#would hannibal accept it but look at the rest of will's dogs and feel he is truly the only worthy one

[stranded-labyrinth]

might have the energy to write it, might not, but im putting it out there regardless.

werewolf hannibal lecter, a powerful monster capable of killing many people, a legend feared by all who know of it, yet by day being known simply as a renouned doctor and dinner party host.

and it almost all comes crashing down when, during a full moon, special agent will graham mistakes him for a stray dog and tries to take him in.

[bi-bard]

dodie Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands - Hannibal Preference [NBC's Hannibal]

Title: dodie Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Word Count: 2,731 words

Warning(s): (Will's) mention of attack/murder, (Hannibal's) mention of murder

Author's Note: I was gonna do a third part to "Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe Relationship with the Murder Husbands" but that felt like too much... but I'll do it if people want it.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

**I did not change the pronouns of the lyrics, but this is written with a gender-neutral reader**

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Will Graham:

A Friday in the Life of Richard and Betty

Make a home in nowhere Make a home with me

I never thought that I would find myself at peace while living in near isolation.

I thought that living in a city would always be the best option for me. I would like to believe that many people who grew up in small towns have the same thought.

But here I was.

I was living in a cabin in the woods... and I was happy there.

After everything that happened with Hannibal and Mason and the F.B.I., it almost felt natural for Will and me to pack up and run for the hills.

We found a small place tucked away from the rest of the world. It was a beautiful place. Surrounded by trees, sitting on a lake. It felt like it was too nice to be our reality.

We both still had a thing for taking in strays.

We had enough dogs for a small army.

And we were at peace.

I was out throwing a few toys around in the yard. I was laughing as the dogs all jumped around and barked at me. It was a dream.

I turned around when one of the dogs took off running to the porch. I saw Will standing up there with a grin on his face. I grinned back before starting to walk over to him.

"Morning," I muttered as I kissed his cheek.

"Morning," he grumbled back, wrapping his arm around me. "You let me sleep in."

I nodded. "You looked peaceful. I wasn't going to interrupt that."

He leaned over and pecked my lips.

"I am pretty happy that you're awake," I said.

"Why's that?"

"Because I need to wash the sheets," I replied.

I went to step away so I could head inside. My wrist was grabbed before I could get too far away from him. I was pulled back over to Will.

I sighed at him as he wrapped his arms around me. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Not yet," he mumbled.

"Not yet?"

He shook his head. I chuckled at him.

One of my hands started messing with the hair on the nape of his neck. His eyes closed as he rested his forehead on mine.

"Will," I said softly. He hummed in response. "I love you."

His eyes opened again. "I love you too."

And for just a moment, I accepted that maybe we had earned this life.

The life that was perfect for both of us.

Sick of Losing Soulmates

Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates, won't be alone again I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

"I came here to be alone."

I knew that. I just had trouble accepting it. The idea of leaving Will on his own in that house made me feel sick to my stomach. Too much had happened there for me to leave him there.

"Maybe you should have mentioned that before you ran off," I replied, going to sit next to him on the floor.

I looked out in front of us.

It was like it all was happening again. Abigail was lying on the floor with her throat slit. Will was desperately trying to cover up that wound while he was almost gutted. I was crawling on the floor with blood seeping through my shirt.

I could feel the dull ache in my body again. Like the wounds had never healed at all.

"I'm sorry," Will said quietly.

I closed my eyes.

It took a moment for me to reply, "I almost lost you."

I heard him sigh.

"I can't lose you, Will," I muttered, opening my eyes to look at him again. "I... I can't do that. I've had so much taken from me already. And seeing you on that floor..."

I trailed off, shaking my head.

The attack left something sitting between the two of us. Like scar tissue had built up between us. Neither one of us wanted to touch it out of fear of something breaking open. My confession... me admitting my fear... it was the first time we had actually spoken about the attack.

"(Y/n)," Will spoke up after a moment. I took a deep breath, trying to blink away some tears. His hand found mine, the fingers intertwining carefully. "Look at me. Please."

I turned my face to his.

There was a moment of us sitting in silence for a few moments. I think more had been said in the midst of that silence than had been said in the weeks following the attack. It made me feel ridiculous to admit that.

Slowly, Will leaned over and pressed his lips to mine.

I felt a tear roll down my face as my eyes closed.

Both of us were broken.

We both were covered in our fair share of scars and bruises.

But all we truly had was each other.

And if clinging to Will was the only way to keep me from spiraling, then I could live with that.

Human

Will you share your soul with me? Unzip your skin and let me have a see

Will never seemed like one to share his true thoughts.

He seemed like someone that would layer his thoughts in riddles and metaphors until you forget what you were originally asking about.

I had decided to drive Will home after a case. He seemed exhausted and burdened by something. If I could help in some way, then I was going to.

I had followed him inside, telling him to go shower and change while I took care of the dogs. It took a few tries, but I eventually managed to pull the dogs away from the bathroom door long enough to get them to go outside and go potty.

I took the brief moment of peace to look around the house. It always looked a little lived-in. It was hard to have seven dogs and keep up with housework, but Will seemed to do a pretty good job with it.

My eyes froze on the bed.

There were two towels on the mattress. One was mostly flat while the other had been wrinkled up.

I furrowed my eyebrows. I wouldn't usually be one to question another person's habits, but I felt a need to do so in this situation.

Will walked out in a new set of clothes just as I was letting all of the dogs in. They all ran to him immediately.

"Hey," I said, pulling his attention away from the avalanche of puppies. "Why are there towels on your bed?"

He looked over at the towels. "I forgot to pick them up this morning."

"That's not quite what I was asking."

I saw him tense a bit. He knew that I wasn't going to let this go.

"I use them when I wake up from nightmares," he said. "They've been happening more recently. The towels help with the sweat."

I nodded, just trying to show that I understood. "I... I could stay."

Will raised an eyebrow at me.

"That way if you do wake up, then you aren't completely alone," I continued. "It might help."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

I scoffed. "Well, then it's a good thing that I'm offering."

"(Y/n), you don't have to-"

"I know. But if I can help you somehow, then I would rather try to help you-"

"Why?"

I furrowed my eyebrows again.

"Why are you offering," he explained. "Why are you so desperate to help me?"

There was a pause. A long, tense pause where we were just looking at each other.

"I... I just always feel better when I'm protecting someone," I muttered after a while. "I've... failed at that a few times. Maybe I'm trying to make up for it."

I watched Will's shoulders and chest move as he took a deep breath.

"I'll go, if that's what you want," I mumbled. "I... I shouldn't have-"

Will stepped closer to me. My sentence died on my tongue as my mind registered the lack of distance between us. I looked into his eyes, trying to find some indication of what he was planning.

"You have a scar," he almost whispered. "On your neck... just behind your ear... is that-"

"A result of my failure? Yes."

I didn't see Will's hand move. I just felt his fingertips graze the scarred skin as if it were a piece of fragile art.

I watched his eyes trace the wound. All I could think of was how desperately I wanted to know him. Every scar, every good memory, every time he had moved when he was younger. From the mundane to the life-altering... I wanted to see all of him... know all of him.

"Will..."

He leaned forward slowly, letting his lips brush mine.

It took me a matter of milliseconds to close the distance properly and kiss him. My hands brushed his sides. One of his hands barely touched the side of my neck. His fingers carefully avoided touching my scar. I almost grinned against his lips at the thought.

For those few seconds, we were both lost in our own world. Nothing existed outside of that little house.

I was only pulled out of our small moment when I heard someone sniffing near us.

I pulled away from the kiss and looked down. One of the dogs was next to us, sniffing me suspiciously. I was a stranger in their house. I needed to be checked.

I heard Will chuckle at the interruption.

I looked back at him.

"Are you staying," he asked.

I grinned and nodded, letting my thumbs draw small circles on his side. "For as long as you'll let me."

Hannibal Lecter:

Help Myself

I'll scratch till I'm raw I'll fuck him tonight When it hurts so much more You can say you were right

How long could one's mind keep a person from looking back at what they had done?

I asked that question many times.

I was beginning to doubt that my mind would ever have a good answer for me.

Following Hannibal felt natural. Letting him sweep me up and bring me to Europe with him felt natural.

My mind wanted to be in this state of ignorance. I wanted to believe that I hadn't truly seen all of Hannibal. My life would be so much easier that way.

But there were times when what I witnessed crawled into the forefront of my mind. I could see the blood and the violence and the gore. I could see every part of Hannibal. My stomach would churn, and my vision would be soured.

Hannibal could always see when my mind was drawn into that state.

I knew that I wasn't completely safe with him. When it became necessary, he could kill me with little hesitation. I would be nothing but another victim.

But he would always pull me away from those thoughts.

His arms would wrap around me. His lips find my skin; a line traced from my cheek to my jaw to my neck. He would cover me in love and affection until my mind went blank and I could blindly fall into his arms.

No danger could matter to me anymore.

As long as he was kissing me and holding me, then I could believe that we were perfect.

And when my end came, I knew some part of my mind would say "I told you so. But when I was in his arms, I could live in this state of bliss.

I could allow myself to believe in nothing but the love he had for me.

When

I'll take what I can get Cause I'm too damp for a spark Kissing sickly sweet guys Cause they say they like my eyes But I'd only ever see them in the dark

I couldn't remember how we had gotten onto the subject of my opinions about dating and romance.

I knew that we had been talking about my hesitation when it came to genuine connection. That somehow shifted to me waltzing around Hannibal's office while I preached from my soapbox.

"I just can't deal with the first dates, the getting to know people, the inevitable disappointment," I rambled. "I find all of it so... pointless."

"They're necessary parts of establishing healthy relationships," Hannibal replied. "Long-lasting relationships."

"Maybe I'm not cut out for long-lasting," I shrugged.

"You recognize that you have problems making long-lasting connections, yet you seem dismissive of many major parts," he explained.

"Yup."

"Have you been let down a lot when you have attempted to make those lasting connections," he asked. "Is that why you're so dismissive?"

I paused, a little shocked that he asked so blatantly.

Hannibal quietly nodded when I didn't respond. He looked down at his notes, scribbling something down.

He looked at the clock. "We can continue this discussion at your next appointment if you'd like."

I slowly nodded.

He stood from his chair and started to guide me to the door.

He stopped just before he opened it. "(Y/n)."

"Yeah," I asked.

"You are not unlovable."

I paused again.

Why was it so easy for him to see through everything I said?

If I'm Being Honest

Could you love this? Will this one be right? Well if I'm being honest, I'm hoping it might Could you love this? Did you plan to fall? Well if I'm being honest, oh I bet it's not that at all

I had never been as nervous as I was walking into Hannibal's home for the first time.

I had mentioned my habit of falling into a cycle of three meals that I would eat on a regular basis. Hannibal mentioned that he could help to teach me some new recipes.

He felt a need to give me this cooking lesson in his own house.

And now, I was here.

I was standing on the other side of his counter, watching him cut up a few vegetables on the cutting board. I was waiting for some kind of task.

"Are you okay," he asked.

I nodded. "I'm just waiting for you to tell me what to do."

"I don't want you to get distracted by focusing on one small part of the entire image," he explained. "That's why you're watching."

"Okay," I chuckled and nodded.

There was another pause between us.

"There's something else on your mind," he pointed out. "Care to discuss it?"

He was right.

Everything about this night felt weird. Especially because of some of what Hannibal had said during our sessions. It all felt like it added up to more than simple kindness. I just hadn't wanted to push the subject. I wanted to believe that I was reading too far into it all.

"(Y/n)."

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart rate spike.

"You said that you were certain that I wasn't unlovable," I said. "You insisted on it, in fact."

"I did."

"I want to know what led you to say that."

A grin pulled at the corner of Hannibal's mouth. "Is it not obvious?"

"I'm not typically a fan of assuming someone's intentions or motivations," I replied.

My heart sped up more as he placed the knife he was holding on the countertop and started walking over to me. I tried to stand up a bit taller as he made his way over to me. Something in his eyes told me that my attempt to seem braver didn't work on him.

He stopped just in front of me.

He was waiting for me to move away from him. When I didn't, his hands cupped my cheeks. He leaned in and kissed me gently. I hesitantly kissed him back.

I had never realized how much I had wanted this kind of affection. Not just a kiss, but everything behind it. The emotion behind it. It all felt so intense.

Hannibal leaned back a few moments later.

"Are you okay," he asked quietly.

I nodded. "Yeah. That... That was really nice. That's all."

His smile formed again.

He stepped back again and went back to cooking.

I smiled a bit and turned back to watch him.

For just a moment, I allowed myself to believe that there was more to love than the "bullshit" that I had known.

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Author's Note: "Help Myself" might be my favorite dodie song right now. It is so beautiful and well written. I adore it.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[anamelessfacelessnerd]

Not me rewriting the ending to Mizumono only to have a much better idea halfway through so as soon as I finished the first one I started on the second

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Relationship: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Abigail Hobbs

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Smut, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Mild Blood, Rough Sex, Coming Untouched, Not Beta Read, Dark Will Graham

Language: English

Summary: “I need him to know.” Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes then, searching for the desperation he could hear in his words. “If I confessed to Jack Crawford now, you think he would forgive me?”

“I would forgive you.” It’s clear that Hannibal’s not talking about the murder, but the betrayal. He would still forgive Will for conspiring against him. “If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, Will, would you accept his forgiveness?” The double meaning is apparent. Hannibal was asking Will if he would go with him knowing that Hannibal would forgive him. It’s an invitation. One that Will wasn’t sure he wanted to decline.

“Jack isn't offering forgiveness.” Hannibal wanted to say “I am”, but he didn't. “He wants justice. He wants to see you. See who you are. See who I've become. Know the truth.” Will takes another sip of his wine and Hannibal accepts his defeat. He really hadn’t wanted to hurt Will, but it seemed that it would be the only option.

“Still, I suppose we don’t owe Jack that do we?” Will spoke again.

Notes: Okay, I know I rewrote the ending of Mizumono yesterday, but I had this idea while I wrote it and I couldn't help myself.

“Do you know what an imago is, Will?” Hannibal asked.

“It's a flying insect,” Will replied.

“It's the final stage of a transformation. Maturity.”

“When you become who you will be,” Will said, catching on to the point Hannibal was making.

“It's also a term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis. An imago is an image of a loved one buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives.”

“An ideal.”

“The concept of an ideal always searching for an objective reality to match. I have a concept of you just as you have a concept of me.”

“Neither of us are ideal,” Will says after taking a long drink of his wine. Hannibal considered what Will had just said for a moment. He had nearly trusted an ideal. He thought that Will would leave with him until he smelled Freddie Lounds on him. Perhaps Will was right, neither of them were ideal.

“We are both too curious about too many things for any ideals.” Hannibal paused a moment, feeling a twinge of hesitation for what he was about to ask. It was completely out of character for Hannibal to grovel, but in recent weeks he had grown accustomed to the idea of running away with Will, and he wasn’t quite ready to give the fantasy up. “Is it ideal that Jack die?”

Will matched Hannibal’s pause. Most would not even notice the hesitation, but Hannibal did.

“It's necessary. What happens to Jack has been preordained.” Will’s voice was cold, free from any emotion. In any other circumstance Hannibal would be proud of how well he schooled his expression, but now it just frustrated him.

“We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs. Leave a note for Dr. Bloom, never see her or Jack Crawford again. Almost polite,” Hannibal was nearly begging now and Will knew it. Their eyes locked and at once Will understood. Hannibal knew and he was willing to forgive.

“That'd make this our last supper,” Will said, considering Hannibal’s offer. Now, just days away from the sting that he and Jack had planned, Will still wasn’t sure whose side he was really on. Part of him wanted to be good, he wanted to atone for his sins and clear his name for good, because even though he had been acquitted, there were still those who believed he had actually killed all those people.

The other part of him wanted to become what everyone thought him to be. Though he hated to admit it, he had felt a thrill as he killed and mutilated Randall Tier. Even worse was that now thinking about that feeling didn’t make him feel guilty or sick, only enhanced the adrenaline.

If he was being completely honest, half of the thrill was seeing how Hannibal looked at him when he knew what Will had done. The subtle adoration and pride that he was no doubt allowing Will to see. Hannibal’s gaze made Will feel things, things that he had never felt with anyone before, and he wanted to chase that feeling.

“Of this life. I am serving lamb.”

“Sacrificial? Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” Will snorted.

“I freely claim my sin. I don't need a sacrifice. Do you?”

“I need him to know.” Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes then, searching for the desperation he could hear in his words. “If I confessed to Jack Crawford now, you think he would forgive me?”

“I would forgive you.” It’s clear that Hannibal’s not talking about the murder, but the betrayal. He would still forgive Will for conspiring against him. “If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, Will, would you accept his forgiveness?” The double meaning was apparent. Hannibal was asking Will if he would go with him knowing that Hannibal would forgive him. It’s an invitation. One that Will wasn’t sure he wanted to decline.

“Jack isn't offering forgiveness.” Hannibal wanted to say “I am”, but he didn't. “He wants justice. He wants to see you. See who you are. See who I've become. Know the truth.” Will takes another sip of his wine and Hannibal accepts his defeat. He really hadn’t wanted to hurt Will, but it seemed that it would be the only option.

“Still, I suppose we don’t owe Jack that do we?” Will spoke again. Hannibal perked up almost imperceptibly.

“Perhaps a note will be sufficient. I didn’t want to leave the dogs alone, but they’ll be fine for a while. Knowing Jack he’ll send a cruiser to my place within an hour after I don’t show up in the morning.”

“Let us prepare then. I would like to be out of the country before Jack realizes that you are no longer his man on the inside.” Hannibal stood and began gathering plates to bring to the kitchen because of course he would want to leave the house spotless. Will helped him with the dishes and wiping everything down. They caught eyes several times, both revving with the anticipation of what was to come. Will considered apologizing for his conspiracy, but when he looked into Hannibal’s eyes he knew he was already forgiven.

It was a little intoxicating to know that he had this kind of control over hannibal. To know that he made Hannibal beg. He wondered how else he could compel him to beg. That was, once they stopped dancing around the physical aspect of their relationship and finally just fucked like they both wanted to.

Once they were finished they retired to the study to write a note. Hannibal wandered around, collecting particular books and knick knacks that he wanted to bring while Will drafted a note. After much thinking and many balled up pieces of paper, Will finally got it right. When he finished, he handed it to Hannibal to read.

“This will do nicely,” Hannibal said. He slipped the letter into an envelope and sealed it with blood red wax and a stamp that bore his initials.

Will watched as the wax dripped. The flow of the thick liquid was giving him all sorts of dirty thoughts. Thoughts of Hannibal pouring that warm liquid all over his body. Thoughts of being covered in other kinds of red liquid. Will had to take a deep breath to steady himself and bring some blood back up to his head.

When the wax had dried, Hannibal handed the letter to Will, fingers brushing against Will’s skin tenderly.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hannibal said, hand coming to grip Will’s wrist.

“Oh?” Will replied.

“Come with me.” Hannibal led Will upstairs, never letting go of his wrist. Will had only been to the upper floor of Hannibal’s house a few times, and never in the dark, so he didn’t really know where they were going. He had two ideas, one much more enticing than the other, but both equally likely.

As it turned out, neither of his assumptions were correct. Hannibal led him to a closed door at the end of the hallway and knocked.

“May we come in?” He asked. Will didn’t even have time to question who was in there before the door was being opened from the inside. Standing in the doorway was none other than Abigail Hobbs.

“Hi Will,” She said, a small smile playing on her chapped lips.

“Abigail?” Will asked, voice barely audible. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had Hannibal drugged him? Was he hallucinating?

“How are you here? You’re dead,” Will said.

“Not dead, just misplaced,” Hannibal replied, “they never found a body, well, not a whole body at least. It was merely a charade.”

Abigail tucked her hair back to show Will the flesh where her ear had been. It was healed over by now, but it still brought a wave of bile up in Will’s throat.

“You’ve been here this whole time?” Will asked, choking down the anger that was building in him. There was no sense getting angry now, especially when he was teetering on the edge of a new beginning.

“I’m sorry,” Abigail said, tears welling in her eyes.

“I forgive you,” Will said. Abigail took two big steps forward and wrapped her arms around Will’s middle, burying her tears in his shirt. He brought a hand to her hair and stroked, both soothing her and assuring himself that she was really there and really alive.

“Thank you,” Will whispered to Hannibal. He wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for. Maybe for keeping Abigail alive, maybe for bringing him to her, maybe just because he didn’t know what else to say.

Hannibal’s hand came to rest between Will’s shoulder blades, fingertips shooting electricity down his spine.

“I do not wish to rush you two, but we must be going,” Hannibal said, “there is still much for us to do and little time to do it.”

Abigail pulled back from Will and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffling a few times.

“Will, would you care to help me pack?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Will cast one last glance at Abigail before following Hannibal to his bedroom.

“Everything in that top drawer must come,” Hannibal said as he set a large suitcase on the bed. Will began transferring the carefully folded garments from the dresser to the suitcase while Hannibal sorted through his suits to find the ones he liked best.

Will and Hannibal's hands brushed for what felt like the 500th time that night as they both attempted to place clothing in the suitcase at the same time. Their eyes met and there was a moment of contemplation before they pounced.

Will dragged Hannibal to the floor and straddled him, hands balling up around fistfulls of Hannibal’s jacket as he pressed their lips together. Hannibal kissed back with equal fervour, hands sliding back to cup Will’s ass. Will moaned into the kiss and rutted his hips against Hannibals. Hannibal bit Will’s lip, not stopping until he drew blood.

They broke away, panting and breathing each other in. Hannibal brought one hand to Will’s cheek and stroked, the pad of his thumb brushing over Will’s parted lips. Will sucked the digit into his mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin.

Will ground his hips down, ass rubbing against Hannibal’s rapidly hardening cock. The older man stared up at him in wonder, lips parted and eyes blown wide. He withdrew his hand, swiping his thumb along the bleeding cut on Will’s lip until the skin was stained red. Then he brought it to his own mouth, his eyes rolling back as he savored the metallic taste of his lover’s blood.

“You taste divine Will,” Hannibal said, deep voice sending tremors through Will’s body. That was it, that was the breaking point for Will.

“Take your fucking clothes off,” He demanded as he scrambled off of Hannibal to remove his own clothes.

“Such crass language,” Hannibal scolded, clicking his tongue disapprovingly, “whatever should I do about that?”

Hannibal was trying his best to regain some of the power he had lost in this exchange. Will would let him believe that he did, if only to sate his ego, but Will knew deep down that he was in control. He had known since before Hannibal had pleaded with him that he was in control here. Hannibal had several layers to his persona. The first was the polite, yet slightly eccentric doctor who loved good food and opera, behind that was the calculating psychopath cold, and emotionless. His true personality was hidden deep within himself, but Will was able to see it, after all, he had not yet met a person he couldn’t read.

The person that Hannibal truly was was driven by his emotions. Anger and hurt bubbled under his skin, suppressed by years of burying everything akin to a feeling deep below the surface. He was intensely narcissistic and hedonistic. Everything he did was to fulfill his desires. He ate to satiate his hunger, he killed to assuage a compulsion. He acted solely in his own self interests, and right now Will was his interest. That gave Will ultimate power over Hannibal. He wanted Will in every sense of the word, and would do nearly everything to have him.

Perhaps what solidified Will’s control was the fact that he was aware of this while Hannibal wasn’t. Hannibal had spent so much effort repressing feelings that he genuinely believed that they were never there in the first place. Will knew about Hannibal’s nature, not from the beginning, no he was fooled like everyone else at first, but certainly longer than he let on. He only raised the issue with Jack when he was in danger.

Will put on the facade of being overly emotional, of being unstable, but deep down he was something different entirely. That’s why he was so good at “faking” the coldness he showed with Hannibal, it was never fake, the emotions were fake, and Hannibal was none the wiser. This was Will’s game and Hannibal was barely aware he was playing.

“Will?” Hannibal asked, pulling Will from his thoughts. He kneeled in front of him, now fully nude, his erection jutting out proudly from a bed of well trimmed blonde curls.

“Fuck me,” Will insisted, trying to pass his momentary spacyness off as fascination with the admittedly impressive cock that hung between Hannibal’s legs.

“As you wish.” Yes, as Will wishes. Hannibal will do exactly as Will wishes.

Will doesn’t wait for any more negotiations. He turns around and sinks to his elbows, thighs spread wide to accommodate Hannibal. He heard the older man’s breath catch as Will displayed himself.

“Oh Will, you truly are exquisite. Beauty incarnate.” Hannibal mused. Will watched between his legs as Hannibal reached into the bedside table for a bottle of lube. Hannibal poured the lube onto his fingers, then pressed them to Will’s hole, tracing the rim to get it nice and wet.

Will buried his face in his crossed arms to stifle a moan. The last thing he needed was for Hannibal to know exactly how sensitive he actually was and to exploit that fact. They didn’t have much time and Will was really just looking to be fucked.

Finally, one finger breached Will. It slid in with little resistance and Hannibal added a second. His thumb came to press against Will’s perineum as he scissored his fingers. Will let out a choked sob when Hannibal’s other hand tangled in his hair and pulled his head up sharply.

“I want to hear you Will. I want to hear exactly how much you like this.”

“God, just fuck me already Hannibal,” Will begged, “I’m ready, just get in me.”

Hannibal withdrew his fingers at once. Will didn’t even have a chance to get a word out before Hannibal was pressing his cock inside.

“There you go sweet boy, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it. Like you were born to take me.”

Will had never heard Hannibal speak so lewdly before, but he liked it more than he would ever care to admit. Not that he even could right now with Hannibal thrusting into him with punishing force, hitting his prostate every time.

Hannibal still had one hand in Will’s hair. The other was gripping his hip so tight he would undoubtedly have finger shaped bruises in the morning. He brought his lips down to Will’s shoulder, placing a few gentle kisses there, and that would simply not do. Will needed him to be rough, he needed to be fucked hard.

“Harder,” Will grunted, “come on Hannibal, you can do better than that. Do it like I know you want to. Hurt me.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Hannibal panted.

“Fuck yes, give it to be Hannibal, fucking ruin me.”

Hannibal complied immediately, using all of the force he could to pound into Will like he was trying to split him clean in half. He bit down hard on Will’s shoulder, just short of drawing blood.

Will rocked back to meet every thrust, letting out a litany of pathetic noises that he probably should have been embarrassed about. Hannibal was groaning now too, grunting like a beast in Will’s ear as he shoved in impossibly deeper.

Will’s orgasm was so sudden, he didn’t even feel it coming. In an instant his body went rigid as white hot pleasure coiled in his abdomen and he came completely untouched.

After coming for what felt like hours, he dropped to the floor, thighs shaking too hard to support himself any longer.

Once he had caught his breath, Will rolled over onto his back and spread his legs.

“Keep going,” he told Hannibal, “I want you to use me to make yourself come.”

Hannibal didn’t need to be told twice before sliding back into Will. He hoisted the younger man’s knees up over his shoulders to get a better angle as he slammed in over and over again.

At last, Hannibal gave a final hard thrust and spilled inside Will, coating his insides with his seed. He pulled out and laid on the floor next to him, breathing hard and trembling.

“I would have run away with you a long time ago if I had known that was in store for me,” Will panted, struggling to sit up.

“If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said, reaching over to brush a lock of curly hair behind his ear.

Will smiled and kissed Hannibal again. It was softer this time, full of much more affection, especially on Hannibal’s behalf.

“I would sit here with you for eternity Will, but I fear that we must leave soon. We would not want to keep Abigail waiting.” Hannibal said when they pulled away.

“Of course, but first will you promise me something?”

“What is it that you desire?”

“Do that again as soon as we get to wherever we’re going.” Hannibal grinned and cupped Will’s cheek.

“I would gladly have you every day, my dear Will.”

Notes: Listen, we all know who's actually in control and this relationship and it's not Hannibal "Simp" Lecter.

[cadisflya]

27. you can't reblog that post about laps and codependency and expect me to /not/ send this when i scroll down and see it

50 TYPES OF KISSES  /  ACCEPTING

   𝚆����𝙻𝙻 𝙿𝚄𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷𝚂 𝚃𝙾𝙶𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁,  and thinks of the can of peaches suspended in syrup that he’d wanted to crawl inside of as a child, of the honeybees who’d once made a hive in the walls of their rental house in Cohutta, GA. How the honey dripped out from under the trim boards for days and days even after they bees had been removed in a slow, gold-and-effervescent stream. Their mouths taste of the digestif: blackberries and caramel. It’s a dark flavour. Dark, sweet, and analgesic. The kisses that result have a tempered viscosity, a thickness. Expressing the magnitude of a rich internal friction.

   Hannibal’s eyes are sharp and lucid, but glossed, and Will looks at them rather than into them when he pulls back by a fraction, observing while holding a hand against the way he’ll be swallowed down eventually. Will is sharp and focused now, direct, and dangerous. He has something in his possession. Not caught between his teeth, or between his thighs, not under him, pinned down—just on him, over him, freely given. Impossible for it to have been withheld from him, even though he didn’t have to fight or lie to get it: an absolutely undivided attention.

   Not anyone’s attention. Hannibal’s attention. Will finds, with a strangely pleasant sensation in his throat, that it does make a difference to him. That’s curious, and rewarding. Hannibal’s hand skims his throat admiringly as if he can sense it there, Will’s pleasure; his momentary and casual acceptance of their singularity. Their accord. Will had been the one to cross the room to him, to bend over him, to put one knee between his legs on the chair, the other beside his hip, arms caging him on the armrests.

   He kisses Hannibal again and lets their bodies sink close until they rest curved together, heavy with their own weight. Hannibal touches his spine, his hair, cups his skull—all with the attendant confidence of a man who knows the Eucharist intimately, a man who has been in the first pew every morning, preparing for this moment all his life. The consecration of idolatry. Real adoration. The whole beast, not just the bones. Will sags into the touch, and draws his knee around Hannibal’s hip until he his fully straddling him, fully in his lap.

   When he pries his fingers under the back of Hannibal’s neatly-laid collar, Will is happy with the sentiment that they are sharing. He’s happy with the way Hannibal sits still, sets his forearms back on the armrests of the chair, and allows Will to pour over him like water. Like a scientist. Like a dog with a delightfully foul-smelling thing, ready to roll in it. He imagines that every time the eagle comes back to devour Prometheus’ liver, his mouth waters anew. The taste is just as stirring as the first time, and he’s just as ravenous for the texture. After he’s finished, he’s always just as sated. One time or a thousand times, the thrill is all the same.

   Will ignores the fact that, in this scenario he’s constructed in his mind, Hannibal is the Titan and he’s the one whose hungry—who between them has given humanity more? not Will, he can acknowledge that even as he resents it—and pushes his fingers into the hard muscle between Hannibal’s diaphragm and abdomen through his shirt, knobbing the inner ‘v’ of the final four ribs. He presses against the place where his liver would be swelling out if he were opened by a beak. Hannibal doesn’t startle, or tense, only watches him curiously, utterly absorbed, relishing.

   “The Greeks believed the the liver was the seat of human emotion.”

   Hannibal hums in acknowledgment of the fact. Prometheus was punished for his passion. His destructive generosity. Zeus’ eagle is sustained for eternity by devouring the place of that passion every morning; sleeping with a belly full, nurtured by it every night. All he has to do is tolerate Prometheus’ agony—though maybe tolerate is the wrong word. Maybe, like the first little draw of blood, the pain becomes a Pavlovian bell for the both of them. Signaling the start, the end, and the start again. Classical conditioning.

   Arguably, it’s a pretty good life for a bird of prey—until the end.

  He can’t stand to look at Hannibal’s beatific smile. He’s pleased, so pleased, and it fills Will with light. The residual awareness that he inspires such delight just by being present, by willfully engaging, makes Will feel sharper than he has since childhood. Being looked at usually makes him feel muddied. Not now. He’s a wash of still water, reactive and rippling under the anticipation of touch. There’s a simper in Hannibal’s eyes—like he knows what Will is thinking; knows the punishment Will has metered out for him in his mind, and would hold himself in chains just for a chance to make it happen. To witness it. To be put in the stars with it once its over. Hannibal is generous, isn’t he? Hannibal is unerringly generous. Just hours ago his house was full of people. They’d left sated, every one. 

   Will’s breathing is spiking slowly but he settles his weight back easily on Hannibal’s legs and looks at him, hearing his own blood in his ears, measuring the abnormal reaction of his body. Lust is teenage behaviour, love is deeply, glaringly abnormal for him, but he’s glad the other people are gone. For no reason other than bargain-brand petulance, he pulls the silk kerchief from the breastpocket of Hannibal’s now open jacket.

   Will feels full of love for him, enough to be sick on. A flush of colour has darkened his cheeks and his throat and his chest. He can feel it pooling in the jugular well at the base of his throat. It would be a good time—a perfect time, the best time—for the both of them to die.

[meteora-writes]

We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.4

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham Warnings: Pain, Talk of Feelings, Angst, Talk of Murder, Talk of Cannibalism Chapter: 4. Please Understand Description: Jack is still being an irritable asshole. Will and Hannibal make a few things clear to one another. Authors Notes: I struggled with the dialogue in this one, so please forgive me if it sounds a little OOC. Read on AO3

~~~~~ Read Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3~~~~~

“Dash-cam from the stolen cruiser confirmed that Dolarhyde was the last one moving about the property after Graham and Lecter entered the home. No sign of anyone coming or going from around the house or the surrounding treeline after that. If they didn’t fall into the ocean, they sure as hell didn’t climb back up any part of the bluff around the house and leave on foot,” Zeller informs Jack as he walks into his office. “Which isn’t surprising, given there was no evidence of anyone having done that.” The annoyance in his voice is loud and clear. He’s been over all the evidence they got before the storm hit. There’s no way Will and Hannibal got back up that cliff and left the way they came. They fell into the ocean below the bluff without question. No way around it.

“Then find me where they got out of the water and where they went from there. I refuse to believe they drown after everything we saw.” Jack feels ready to start shouting. The urge to bubbling up inside his chest. He’s spent the morning pouring over evidence. Making phone calls. He even tried to contact Alana Bloom and Dr. Du Maurier to get their insight as well as get them both into protective custody. Neither will return his calls and he’s waiting for the agents he sent to their homes to report in.

“Jack, you need to accept the possibility that they didn’t make it out of the water. It’s the middle of February. It was thirty degrees out at the estimated time they killed Dolarhyde. Even with the average temperature of the ocean being higher than the air temperature this time of year, the amount of time it would take them to swim ashore along with the amount of blood they both clearly lost makes their survival rate slim at best. And that’s assuming they made it to one of the nearby summer homes. None of which show any signs of forced entry,” Zeller argues further. He doesn’t like the idea any more than Jack does. But he doesn’t think he can ever look Will in the eye again if he did survive. Not after seeing how brutally he and Hannibal took down Dolarhyde.

“I am well aware of the lack of evidence, Z, and I do not need a science lesson right now. I am aware of what the temperatures were last night and of their odds of survival. Now kindly return to your lab before I get any angrier,” Jack grits out before grabbing a stack of reports from the corner of his desk to start rifling through.

Zeller looks ready to argue, but closes his mouth and walks out without another word. He does however slam the door behind him.

Jack watches him go before heaving an irritated sigh and rubbing at his forehead. He feels a headache coming on. Likely due to too much caffeine. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee as he tries to pour through everything they have on both Lecter and Graham as well as the field reports as they come. He knows Hannibal well enough to know he’s always got a backup plan of some sort. The trick is connecting the puzzle pieces to find out what it is.

It makes him wish Will was there. Which only serves to anger him further. He should have known better. He let Will’s reluctance and the fact that he had a wife and son now convince him that Will wouldn’t go off with Hannibal. That he had changed and he wouldn’t be drawn to him like he was before.

“Because I wanted to run away with him.”

“Part of me will always want to.”

Jack curses under his breath as he remembers Will’s words from years ago.

A buzzer cuts through his train of thought, drawing his attention to the phone on his desk. With a growl of annoyance, he pressed the button for the intercom. “What is it?”

“Sir, Molly Graham is on the line. She wants to speak to you and she doesn’t sound happy,” the agent on the other line informs him.

“Thank you.” Jack briefly looks up to the ceiling and prays that she has some useful bit of information to help them find Will. He picks up the receiver then and clicks over to line two, which is lit up with a waiting call. “Mrs. Graham.”

“What the hell did you do, Jack! Where is my husband!” Her angry voice cuts through the speaker, making Jack wince. He was hoping whoever broke the news to her would do so in a way that explained everything. Apparently they did not.

With a tired sigh, he rubs at his forehead with his free hand once more and begins to explain what’s happened.

~~~~~

It’s sometime in the early afternoon when Will finally wakes again. Not that he really wants to.

His body still aches. Head throbbing sharply with the beat of his heart. He feels like he’s been cracked open and parts of him are spilling out with every beat. The only thing that helps him through the initial shock of pain is the feeling of what is definitely a warm, solid body pressed against part of his back. His sleep-addled mind connects the dots slowly. He knows where he is. Who he’s with. And he’s just too tired and miserable to be bothered or feel much of anything about that fact aside from relief that he isn’t alone.

Hannibal is asleep behind him. Breathing soft and even. Barely audible thanks to the crackle of the fire and the howl of the wind outside. There’s a distinct patter of freezing rain hitting ice somewhere above. The storm they had outrun having arrived a few hours ago blanketed the area in a layer of fresh snow before it changed to freezing rain.

Lifting his head with a wince and gasp at the way the change in position makes it throb and his vision go black a moment, Will steadies himself and looks out the closest window. It’s a dreary shade of gray out as sleet comes down at a harsh angle thanks to the winds that accompany it.

“You really should lay back down, Will. Overexertion will only make the pain worse,” Hannibal mutters sleepily as he shifts on the mattress behind Will. It’s more obvious now that he’s simply resting on his back behind the younger man, his arm pulled over his own chest in a way that allows Will’s back to press against his side. Giving them both a bit of extra warmth and comfort without making either man feel trapped or particularly awkward.

“I don’t think there is anything I could do right now that wouldn’t make the pain worse,” Will replies softly as he lets his head lower slowly back to his pillow. Even that is painful. So much so that he momentarily wishes he hadn’t woken up so soon.

A soft hum of understanding comes from Hannibal, who isn’t making any move to get up yet now that he’s awake. “Perhaps something to eat would do you good? I could prepare some soup if you like?”

Will can’t help but snort a laugh at that. The thought of Hannibal cooking anything that comes from a can feels like a joke. “I don’t need you to make me soup, Hannibal.”

The bed dips slightly as Hannibal sits up, and it makes Will shift and roll onto his back to look up at the older man. “I know you don’t. I simply offered because I intend to make myself something to eat as well. It’s really no trouble.”

Studying him a moment, Will sighs and lets his eyes slip closed. “Please?” he finds himself asking a bit reluctantly. He would do it himself, but the thought of getting up, along with the pain it will cause his head, is unappealing, to say the least. He hates feeling like this. Useless and weak. It makes him miss his dogs. They always distract and comfort him when he feels this miserable.

Hannibal smiles down at Will, watching him a moment before finally climbing out of bed. The cabin is quite warm now. Thanks in part to his keeping the fire going. He had added another split piece of wood before laying down early that morning and added yet another when he woke to relieve himself a few hours later. It’s been maybe two hours since then and the fire is smaller now, but still burning nicely.

There’s a collection of cast iron cookware hanging on the wall over the small wood-burning stove that sits in the corner. Beside that is an old sink with a well-pump for a faucet, and a set of cupboards that contain a few pots and dishes. More than enough to work with for what they need.

“The last time I prepared a meal from a can like this I was a young man just entering university, if memory serves,” Hannibal muses as he sets a pot on the stove. There’s no sign of a can opener, but he finds an old churchkey in the silverware drawer and grabs that to use.

“Somehow I find it hard to imagine you ever eating anything out of a can that wasn’t in some way extravagant or more expensive than my first car,” Will jokes as he opens his eyes and blinks up at the rafters above him. There’s various kind of gear stored up in them. Old looking wooden snowshoes, and what might be fishing equipment. He’s not entirely sure since he can’t get his eyes to focus well enough to get a good look through the shadows.

With a chuckle, Hannibal glances over to Will before grabbing two cans of chicken soup from the small counter by the stove. He had placed most of their food in there before stuffing the small fridge tucked below full of snow and placing their drinks inside to stay cold. “There are still many things you do not yet know about me, Will.”

“Of that, I am well aware,” Will says with a sigh. He lets his eyes slip closed again as he listens to Hannibal putter around across the room. “So what do you plan to do after this?”

The question makes Hannibal pause in the middle of opening a can. He has to ponder it a moment because while he knows what he would like to do, he also wants to know what it is that Will wants. And how that could possibly work into his own desires. “This being?”

“Recovering, here, with me,” Will clarifies tiredly. “I assume once you’re well enough to travel there are people you intend to pay a visit to before relocating to someplace more comfortable.”

“There are a few people I would like to visit, yes… Would you perhaps have an interest in joining me?” Hannibal asks carefully. He knows it would be a stretch to think Will might help him kill Alana Bloom. Killing her can wait for now. But the others? He isn’t going to leave the country without giving them a final farewell dinner.

“That would depend entirely on whom we would be visiting,” Will counters just as Hannibal had expected. He still has his eyes closed. Body language not changing as he lays with the blanket pushed down a bit so his upper chest and shoulders are visible along with his face. He appears relaxed despite the pain he’s in.

“Bedelia Du Maurier and Jack Crawford,” he supplies as he goes back to his work preparing their meal. He knows Bedelia being someone he intends to kill isn’t a surprise to Will. Jack really shouldn’t be either. But then again he’s left him alive in the past so that does give reason to consider he might leave the man alone.

“Jack?” Will asks, finally opening his eyes to look over at Hannibal. “I thought he wasn’t worth the effort?”

“He wasn’t. Even after the trouble he caused me in Italy, I never considered him much of a threat. And I had no intention of causing him harm unless he got in my way again. But it’s become clear that he will never stop pursuing either of us. And to be totally honest, I find many of his actions, as well as his overall treatment of you, to be quite rude.” He can remember every conversation they had regarding Will over the years. Every time Jack referred to Will as a dog or some tool for furthering his own agenda.

Hannibal takes some credit for guiding Will to who he is today. He’s proud of what the other man has become with his guidance. Of the evolution of his design. He probably wouldn’t bother with Jack if he was on his own now, but it seems Will might be here to stay and the man did spend the better part of three years silently gloating that Will had chosen to forsake the life they could have had together. And Hannibal isn’t going to let that stand.

“Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude,” Will quotes Hannibal with a chuckle. He remembers the night that Hannibal spoke those words to him. The look of amusement on his face as he said them despite being frustrated that Will hadn’t killed Mason Verger and instead flipped the script to set the sick bastard up to try and kill Hannibal instead.

“A sentiment I still hold to this day,” Hannibal agrees with a fond shake of his head.

“I think…” Will begins before carefully pushing himself up to sit. It hurts his head, makes the room spin, and his body sway a bit. But he holds himself steady and breathes through it before he opens his eyes and looks over to a worried Hannibal once he’s fully upright. “I think I would like to see that.”

“I have to ask. When Jack Crawford is dead and this is all over, will you try to go back to your family?” Hannibal keeps his eyes locked with Will’s. Reading his reaction to the question. He had briefly considered finding a more delicate way to ask. But he knows Will prefers him to be honest in his questions. So, he’s being honest.

Will’s face twitches like he doesn’t know if he wants to smile or frown. “They’re not really my family anymore, now are they,” he says in a tone that betrays his mixed emotions on the subject of his wife and step-son. Tears well up in his eyes and he has to break eye contact with Hannibal as he blinks them away. It’s too much right now.

“I‘m sorry, Will…” He knows what it means to Will. Having a family. Especially after the loss of his unborn child and then losing Abigail for a second time right before his eyes. It seems if he’s to be involved with Hannibal in any way, it means losing those he holds dear no matter the circumstances.

“I’m only going to ask you this once. Don’t mention them again,” Will says as calmly as he can with a glance to Hannibal before letting his gaze drift down to his hands. He has them folded in his lap. Eye’s roaming over the scrapes and bruises that start on his knuckles and move up his arms. His mind is spinning. Trying to accept the fact that who he is, who he really truly is, isn’t someone that could ever be with them again. It’s what’s best for them all. He’s suppressed his nature for years. He can’t go back to that after last night.

“Of course. I am sorry, Will. It wasn’t my intention to upset you.” He really hadn’t. He cares a great deal for Will. And seeing him hurting so deeply does affect him. Despite his best attempts not to let it. It makes him long to go back to a time when he could have chosen a different path. Saved Abigail and forgiven Will. Left for a life with them. The longing is fleeting. He knows there’s no going back and there is likely nothing he could do to make the loss of his children up to Will.

“I’m not… I’m not going to leave you, Hannibal. Not unless your feelings towards me have changed,” Will says after a few minutes of silence pass between them. It was hard to find the words. Get them out of his mind and past his tongue.

“My feelings for you are exactly the same as they were the last time I saw you like this,” he settles on the answer as he studies Will. Remembering the night Will woke up tucked carefully into his own bed after Mason Verger tried to have his face removed so he could claim it as his own. “I think the real question you should be asking is have your feelings towards me changed since then?”

Will forces himself to look up and face Hannibal then, fighting back the urge to look away and retreat into himself at the intensity of his gaze. Wade into the stream and catch a few fish rather than confront and admit how he feels. “They have,” he finally says, knowing full well that Hannibal can see what he means from the look in his eyes. He doesn’t need to say anything more. And the smile that spreads across Hannibal’s face has an oddly calming effect on Will. It lets him take a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding back.

“Then there are some things we need to discuss once you are feeling up to it.” The smile doesn’t leave his face, even as he turns back to the simmering pot on the stove.

Will watches Hannibal serve up their meal, wondering what will happen from here. His mind sifting through all his knowledge and past experiences with the other man. Trying to find any tells or signs that his feelings aren’t genuine. He finds none. And it leaves an oddly warm feeling in his chest knowing that Hannibal appears to feel the same way.

Read Chapter 5

[bookworlders]

the wedding date - ch. 6

a/n: hope you enjoy! heads up the next chapter will be nsfw 

part 6 of the percabeth fake dating!au 

part 1

“Cheers!”

Piper and her bridesmaids clinked phallic shot glasses with “P GETS J’d” engraved on the sides, and each downed shots of tequila.

The interior of Cabin 10, Piper’s old cabin, had been completely redecorated by Drew and Leo that afternoon. The pink walls and vanities that littered the floor were decked out in various penius paraphernalia. The bridal party, all decked out in clubbing clothes and bridesmaid sashes, all gathered around a truly impressive array of alcohols and cocktail ingredients to pre-game Piper’s hen do.

Leo climbed on top of a pink velour ottoman, “Ahem, attention!” He clinked a hot pink penis-shaped straw against his shot glass, “Welcome to Beauty Queen’s Final Night Out—”

“Ah, ah, ah, no, Leo, that is not what we’re calling it,” Piper chimed, sucking on lime.

“Fine, Piper’s Penis Parade—”

“No.”

“Rest in Peace, Piper’s Innocen—”

“Leo.”

“Fine! Piper’s bachelorette party,” Leo grumbled, “Got an exciting night for you ladies planned. Argus is gonna drive you guys in-land to the club, you’ll dance the night away with an open bar, and he’ll drive you guys back here when you’re all thoroughly blacked out. Be mindful, though, for those in the wedding party, we have a dance lesson in the morning so go crazy, go stupid, but you have to have a functioning body in the morning.”

Even though they were just going to the one-and-only source of night life in Montauk, Annabeth looked at her friends, they looked amazing. She felt extremely good herself in a short, black bodycon dress that showed off her athletic build and her “man killer” heels from college — the alcohol in her system helped too.

As Leo rattled off the list of things to be mindful of during the night, Annabeth leaned over and began to make herself a martini.

Piper, in white jeans and a flowy, low-cut top under her sparkly white “Bride” sash, nudged Annabeth as she plopped an olive into her glass, “Hey, make me one too. A double if Leo is going to keep on talking.”

Annabeth chuckled, glancing over to Leo atop the footrest who had been joined by Drew in listing off the acceptable songs to request to the DJ. She handed Piper the martini glass.

“Thanks,” Piper muttered, throwing it back, “I am exhausted after today, but Leo insisted I have my bachelorette party tonight with everyone here.”

“Today was so fun, though,” Annabeth said, “I forgot how much I missed this place.”

“Percy looked like he was having a good time.”

“Oh? I’m glad, I was a little nervous about bringing him.”

“I could tell. But he’s great, ‘Beth, really. I’m glad you brought him,” Piper said, “I know I only met him this morning, but you guys are good together. I just sense this easiness with the two of you. He seems to make you happy”

Annabeth flushed. Percy did make her happy, “Yeah, he’s—Percy’s a good guy.”

Thalia, who was downing her second drink, piped into their conversation, “We’re talking about Percy? Yeah, Annabeth, Percy. I mean, wow. That is a hot piece of ass, right there. And I like men and women so it takes a lot to catch my eye.”

Annabeth nodded in agreement and grabbed a hard cider from the cooler just to keep from having to respond.

“I mean you always got the cute ones, didn’t you?” Thalia said, taking the cider from her and handing Annabeth her empty wine glass. “Percy, Luke...”

“Thalia—” Piper said.

“But then again, it took you years of pining after Luke for him to notice you. It’s funny how you and Percy, how long did you say, a month ago? Only? And you already brought him to us. I can see why though, he’s so goddamn attractive.

Annabeth’s face and anger flared, “Thalia—”

Thalia rambled on, “Perfect timing so you could have a wedding date because gods forbid perfect Annabeth with her perfect career and perfect life not have a perfect date, too. It was easy though, right, because all the guys fall for Annie! He’s no Luke, though.”

“Enough, Thals. She’s just drunk, ” Piper muttered to Annabeth, rolling her eyes. She could tell Piper was annoyed with her fiancé’s sister. Thankfully, Leo had finished explaining proper night club dance circle etiquette and Drew started blasting trashy pop.

Knock, knock.

“Was anyone missing?” Piper asked, counting heads around the room, “No, all five of you are here, Calypso wasn’t feeling well and Reyna’s down with the boys.”

“I’ll get it!” Thalia said, crossing the cabin to the door, a fresh glass of rosé in hand.

It was Percy.

With the tequila and wine already flowing through their veins, Piper’s bridesmaids erupted in squeals when they saw him — an expected reaction for any attractive man who happened to fall prey to a bachelorette party.

Annabeth stood from Piper’s side and met him at the door, “Hi,” she said, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“Wow,” Percy said, seeing her short, black dress and stilettos, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” Annabeth smirked, this dress was a killer every time. “What are you doing here?” Annabeth was acutely aware of all the girls staring daggers at them.

“You forgot your wallet in our cabin,” Percy said, holding out her black leather wristlet.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t even notice,” Annabeth said, taking it from him. Percy glanced over her shoulder and also noticed their audience. He waved.

“Sorry to intrude, ladies.”

“No, no!” Drew said, clambering over everyone to meet them at the door, “Have a drink with us!”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Percy said, brushing his dark curls out of his face, “I should head over, Jason invited me to join his stag night.”

“What are you guys doing?”

“Just some beers down by the lake.”

“Don’t forget board games,” Piper called from where she was lounging, “Jason will definitely insist on board games.”

“Are you heading down to the lake now, Percy?” Leo asked, “I’ll join you.”

“You’re not coming with us, Leo?” Annabeth asked.

“Please, I may be the Man of Honor, but I still want to hang with my boys. Shall we Percy?”

Percy nodded as Leo ran down the itinerary again with Drew, the acting party planner in his absence. Percy settled his hands on Annabeth’s waist, kissing her lightly on the cheek, “Be safe tonight, okay?”

Annabeth flushed from the kiss, but retorted, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.”

“Ready, Perce?” Leo said, striding towards the door. Percy nodded.

“Bye,” Annabeth said, waving with the hand clutching her wallet, “Have fun.”

The door had barely shut before Annabeth was attacked with squeals about how attractive Percy was.

“Where the heck did you find him, Annie!” “Where can I get one?” “It’s like you bought him at a Build-a-Boy.”

“You have no idea,” Annabeth muttered.

____________

“I will trade you two ballistae for your war elephant,” Frank said, pushing a pile of chips towards Nico.

“Fat chance, Zhang,” Nico said, “We’re not letting Hannibal go for some ballistae.”

Frank and Percy and Jason had gotten on well during capture-the-flag today and invited him to come along to the bachelor party. Percy had felt a little weird crashing since he had met all these guys just this morning, but there was something about being at a summer camp that accelerated friendships — like how when you would meet a kid at the playground and be playing like you were best friends five minutes later.

They had set up a nice spread at the lake dock, beer, chips, cigars (just for show, Nico was the only one he held one in his mouth and it was unlit) and, as Piper had promised, board games. They were playing a game called Siege that Frank had brought over for Camp Jupiter. It was super complicated with lots of pieces and points and bonuses so Percy had teamed up with Frank for the first round.

Leo pulled up a folding chair to their table and handed out beers, “Who’s winning?”

Jason grinned, pushing up his glasses, “Me, who else.”

“My bad, I’m slowing Frank down,” said Percy, “I just can’t wrap my head around the objective of the ‘Octavian’ card.”

“No one ever does,” Leo chuckled, “Doesn’t matter though, Percy came by the girls’ cabin earlier. You’re winning no matter what. The ladies love you.”

Percy grabbed a handful of chips, “Shut up, Valdez.”

Jason shuffled his cards, “He’s right, Percy. You got Annabeth, that is quite the respectable feat.”

“Oh?” Percy said. He recalled Rachel always talking about her roommate during Romeo & Juliet rehearsals, and he remembered seeing her and thinking she was them most beautiful person he’d ever seen at opening night so getting to know Annabeth today had been a dream. He could tell right away she was not someone to be messed with, but it was interesting to hear about her from her childhood best friends.

The conversation had finally pulled Frank away from his card game strategizing, “Annabeth’s scary.”

Will piped up from the edge of the dock where he was strumming his guitar, “It’s true. I’ve known Annabeth since we were seven and one time she punched this one camper in the face when he tried to give her a flower.”

“She always wins capture the flag. One, because she’s an awesome battle strategist, but also because everyone’s too scared to find out what’s going to happen if she doesn’t win.”

At that moment, Reyna, Jason’s best woman, came over, “I started a bonfire if you guys want to roast hot dogs.”

“Oh, heck, yes,” Jason said, abandoning the game, “You’re the best, Rey.” Jason pecked her on the cheek. She lovingly shoved him.

Leo followed him, “Yeah, RA-RA, you are the best.” He also leaned to peck Reyna on the cheek, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t even think about it, Valdez.”

“You want to grab some hot dogs?” Percy asked Frank.

“Nah, I’m good. Still stuffed from dinner.”

“Same.”

Will and Nico also decided to stay behind at the dock with them. Nico was on his umpteenth beer and nicely settled in his chair, and Will leaned against him, still strumming a tune on his guitar.

Frank set down his cards, “How did you and Annabeth get together if I could ask?”

Percy cleared his throat, he and Annabeth had repeated the story many times today, but he still needed to be careful to keep things as vague and close to the truth as possible, “Rachel directed a show I was in, and we met at opening night.”

“I’m glad you made it past her hard exterior, not a lot of people do. She is scary, but it’s because she’s guarded.”

Percy nodded, he loved hearing more about Annabeth, “How old were you guys when you met?”

“I was sixteen, she was seventeen. Being a teenager really just is the worst, I felt all awkward and huge, but she helped me out. She cares a lot, and once she cares about you, well, let’s just say she’s a great person to have on your team. But you know that.”

“Right.” Percy had of course noticed right away that Annabeth was a guarded person, but they were so easy together. He felt a jolt of pride that he too got to experience the softer, caring side of Annabeth that really only her childhood friends experienced.

“Who’s a great person to have on your team?” Luke had wondered over from the bonfire.

Frank reddened. Percy cleared his throat, “Annabeth.”

Luke paused. “Oh, uh, yeah. She is.”

“I know,” Percy said, holding his gaze.

“Look man,” Luke said, “I’m sure someone filled you in, and I know it’s awkward—”

“Oh, I don’t feel awkward,” Percy said, “Sorry if having your ex’s new boyfriend around makes you feel awkward.”

Frank’s head ping-ponged between Luke and Percy.

Luke’s gaze hardened, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about us—”

“Yeah, man, fuck you for real,” Nico barged in, slurring his words, “You really messed up with Annabeth, that was such a dick move. Wasn’t it a dick move, babe?”

Will stood up with his guitar, and hoisted Nico up from the chair, “I think it’s time for us to go and put this one to bed before he says anything else. Come on, babe.”

Jason, Leo, and Reyna returned with a plate of roasted hot dogs and buns. “You two leaving?” Jason asked.

Will nodded, motioning to Nico slumped against his side, “It’s time.”

Percy stood, too, “I’ll go with you. Jason, thanks so much for letting me crash your party. Goodnight everyone.”

As Percy walked through camp back to Cabin 3, he let his thoughts wander to the blonde that had been on his mind since opening night of Romeo & Juliet. He was so surprised with himself when he received that call from her and immediately said yes. Truth was, he had already been planning on asking Rachel for her number. He honestly would’ve been her date to this wedding for free.

_____

Annabeth was so drunk.

She had been pissed at Thalia, and flustered by Percy so she coped by being Piper’s drinking buddy and took shots with the bride all night.

The lovely bride-to-be was currently weeping in her sister’s lap in the backseat of the car. “I just, hiccup, love Jason so much, Drew,” Piper wailed, “There’s just, like, so much love in me for that stupid, hiccup, dumb blonde.”

Drew had taken her sister-of-the-bride duties well and took care of them that night, including rounding them all up from the dance floor to bring them home at midnight. She smoothed Piper’s hair, “I know, sweetie, it’s because of mom. She really fucked us up in the love department.”

Everyone else was also in various stages of inebriation — Thalia was pouty, Hazel giggly and happily, and Annabeth was feeling brave and confident and was laser-focused on one thing — Percy. She wanted to see him and his stupid hair and stupid green eyes and stupid cute smile now. They say sober thoughts are drunken actions, and she needed some action with Percy.

The car dropped them off at the Big House, and they stumbled as a sloppy, bachelorette amoeba to Cabin 10. Drew did her best, passing out makeup wipes and finding everyone sweatshirts to trade for their alcohol and sweat soaked dresses. Soon, Piper and Hazel were snoozing and tucked into a bunk bed. Annabeth had thrown her hair into a ponytail and pulled on a camp shirt and yoga pants. She could always hold her liquor so her peak drunkenness manifested as a confident buzz.

Drew had already slipped on a matching silk pajama set, “Annie, you wanna sleep here? There’s room.”

“No thanks, I think I want to sleep in my own bed.”

Drew grinned, “Use protection, Annabeth!”

_______

Percy’s dreams always took him to the water. He was surfing. He was swimming. He was a kid splashing in the water with his mom. He was swimming with a beautiful mermaid with long, flowing blonde curls. She was getting dragged by the current and getting tangled the seaweed.

“Hey!” bubbles spewed under his mouth, “The seaweed, watch out! The seaweed—”

“Percy.”

“Percy.”

Percy woke up to Annabeth sitting on the edge of their bed,  gently nudging him awake, “Hey, Seaweed Brain.” He sat up.

“Is it time to start getting ready?” he mumbled, wiping away drool.

“No,” she grinned, “It’s like two in the morning. You were dreaming.”

“Oh, um,” Percy flushed.

Annabeth stood and held out her hand, “Come on a walk with me, I want to show you around camp.”

[hostgalli19]

The Cannibal’s Book Collection -  Chapter 3: An Unexpected Pet

Chapter Summary: Will has an unexpected addition to his pack and has unintended consequences that aren't necessarily bad. Note: Afternoon everyone, this is my 6th Hannibal story. I've only been apart of the fandom for 11 days its already affected me. The meaning of "roast (insert name here)" has completely changed and I'm not really sure how to feel. 

Thank you to everyone who has read this story, so far. This story is also posted on FFN and Ao3

Length: 2,542 words (4 pages)  Tag List: @wilfordwarfstacheisbae, @matt10nt, @fuckmethomasshelby, @lamb-and-knife Link

Date: 16/05/20 Time: 3:39 pm – 6:12 pm

Will had no idea how he ended up adopting a Wendigo. He'd found the Monster trapped in a bear trap in the woods around his house. He had no idea why there was even a bear trap in the woods around Will's house. The thought someone setting something like that in his forest made Will's insides boil.

He had done an extensive amount of research on Wendigo's after finding the one in the forest, hoping to avoid any unwanted surprised in the future. He knew the Wendigo had been hunting in the forest but hadn't a real meal in a long time as evidence by him almost bitting Will's hand when he gave the Wendigo one of the meals Hannibal had cooked.

He found the Wendigo could disguise himself as a normal if rather a large dog and had taken to following him wherever he went. Jack had been annoyed Will had brought one of his stays to a crime scene but soon shut up when Wendi growled and snapped at him. Wendi didn't like anyone in the BAU except for Hannibal.

He was strangely okay with the man. Will had been incredibly embarrassed when Wendi had eaten the meat Hannibal had been preparing in his kitchen when they were invited over to his house. It was then that he remembered Wendigo ate human, he always seemed to enjoy Hannibal's food.

It didn't take Will long after that to figure out what Hannibal was and even less time after that to figure out he was the Chesapeake Ripper. The fact they had kidney pot pie when there had been a Ripper kill that day, the body had been missing several organs, one of which was likely in the kidney pie.

None of which Will got to eat as Wendi had eaten it before he could. Will knew he wasn't going to get to eat any of Hannibal's food in the future if it contained even a little human. He didn't bother trying, telling Hannibal to give the rest of what was going to be his to Wendi. He seemed curious but accepted without much complaint. They had regular meals with Hannibal after that.

Will would bring food for Hannibal to cook, any food Hannibal tried to give Will that had even a little human in its Wendi would eat it before Will got the chance.

Will and Hannibal had just sat down to eat when they got a call from Jack request (read: demanding) their presence as The Ripper had struck again, which wasn’t possible as Hannibal hadn’t been out of his sight for the last six hours. He had been teaching Will how to cook. Wendi stealing bits of meat when he got the chance.

Will definitely knew Hannibal hadn’t been responsible due to the kill only being an hour old at the most, that and all the organs were in their correct place though it looked like the Killer had been in process of removing them from the victim’s body. Wendi had whined and whimpered but stayed near Will’s legs.

Will knew Wendy wanted to eat the body but knew he wouldn’t. Will told Jack someone other than The Ripper had killed this person. They were, however trying to copy The Ripper. Jack hadn’t been pleased when he heard that and made the mistake by hitting Will and yelling at him. Everything stopped.

Will said nothing, he was used to this sort of behaviour what he didn’t count on how Will’s rather big dog and Hannibal would react. Hannibal was glaring at the back of Jack’s head like he was imaging killing Jack. Will knew Hannibal didn’t like Jack. Now he knew Hannibal was The Ripper he knew he had been trying to teach Jack a lesson. One he clearly hadn’t learned but he would learn very soon.

He had been more than rude and callus. He was constantly blackmailing and bribing Will into working for the BAU. It didn’t matter what Will’s emotional or mental state was like or what Will himself thought. Jack didn’t care for him and was only using him because he had a useful gift that allowed him to catch the killers the stalked the streets of Baltimore.

Will knew he would never be able to escape the BAU with his sanity intact. Wendi’s reaction to Jack yelling and hitting Will was far more sudden and rather… violent and made everyone freeze in fear. Everyone but Will and Hannibal. Wendi growled and snapped and snarled at Jack after knocking him to the ground, landing on his chest.

He suddenly looked far bigger then he had before and far more dangerous. Was he always that big? Where his teeth always that sharp? Everyone scrambled to get away from the ‘dog’ that really looked like a dog anymore. He looked much more like a wolf and they couldn’t help but wonder where Will had found him, he was staring down at Jack with unnatural red eyes.

He growled one last time, snapping at Jack’s throat in warning before stalking back over to Will and Hannibal. He looked far more intelligent than any of them had been expecting

It took Zeller a minute to realise Wendi was standing between Jack and Will and Hannibal. He came up to Will’s waist. His ears pinned against his head as he growled lowly in a warning. Zeller, Beverly and Jimmy knew Jack’s treatment of Will had the best chance if he didn’t want to end up injured, that was a clear threat and challenge.

Will’s ‘dog’ would kill them if something were to happen to Will or Hannibal. Will didn’t appear alarmed, just surprised as he petted the top of Wendi’s head. He was staring down at Jack, who had yet to get up with a cold look on his face. Far colder than Beverly expected. None of them really understood Will and how he was able to get inside people’s head but found it creepy, but no one said anything.

They knew they would be screwed with Will’s help so tried to be as nice as possible and stay out of his way as much as possible and get him anything he needed.

Beverly, Zeller and Jimmy knew how Jack got Will to help with them with cases. They knew Jack would continue to use Will until the younger man was no longer any use to them, they had no idea what would happen to Will when Jack no longer felt like he was any use to the BAU. He’d more than likely end up in a mental hospital, being deemed insane due to his work with the FBI.

They knew Jack Crawford held no love for William Graham. He never had, he would continue to use the man in order to catch killers and make himself look better but Will would never get the help he truly deserved because if that happened then Will wouldn't be as good at his job which they all knew would wrong.

Zeller knew Jack Crawford held no love for Will Graham. He never had, he would continue to use the empath to catch killers and make himself look better but Will would never get the help he truly deserved because if that happened then Will wouldn’t be ‘as good’ at his job, which Zeller knew was stupid.

Will would do a better job if he was mentally and emotionally stable and had someone to talk to about his problems and that wouldn’t punish him. It seemed Jack had unknowingly given Will exactly what he needed in order to get better in the form of Hannibal Lector who clearly cared about the man. He may not have outright said it but his actions certainly said more than he ever could.

He cared about Will a great deal, how and when that had happened Beverly, Jimmy and Zeller weren’t exactly sure, but they knew he would do anything for Will. They also knew Hannibal Lector was a very dangerous man and not someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. He was after all capable of killing and would if someone pissed him off enough.

Oh yes, they knew he was Chesapeake Ripper but they never said anything to Jack, he hadn't treated any of them well, he never thought about their feelings or waited for their opinions on things, often pulling them away from their families and friends to help with cases in the early hours of the morning or during important events.

Often pulling them away from their families and friends to help with cases in the early hours of the morning or during important events. Jack would continue to message and call them until they answered and come in and helped with whatever case he needed them for. Yelling at them in front of everyone.

He'd certainly done it to Will plenty of times, regardless of the fact Will was most likely up all night with nightmares or hadn’t gotten any sleep.

He was shorter tempered on those days, Beverly always made sure she had coffee on hand for those days, she knew it helped. If only a little. Beverly, Zeller and Jimmy looked after Will, even if Jack wasn’t going to, even if meant ordering strong, slightly too sweet coffee in the morning and bringing leftovers from the night before then they would do it. Jack never seemed to notice.

Will had put on some weight since he’d met Hannibal which was good. He was far too skinny. Zeller knew the Doctor had been cooking for him and couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Hannibal Lector was an amazing cook and everyone knew it. He would look after Will and would make sure he never got hurt.

In return Zeller, Beverly and Jimmy never told Jack who Hannibal was and made sure he never got too close to figuring it out.

They had their own abilities they had never mentioned to Jack knowing how he treated Will. Jimmy had known Will’s ‘dog’ hadn’t been normal, even if back then he hadn’t been as big as was now. Even if he was perfectly friendly, Jimmy had always felt like it was an act, like he was trying to lull them into a false sense of security and let their guard down.

He had never caused Zeller, Beverly or Jimmy any trouble, one more than one occasion Jimmy had seen him lick the blood off the crime scene and even eating any stray chunk of the body. Jimmy never said anything though. They were fine with him as long as he looked after Will and didn’t cause them too much trouble.

Beverly knew he definitely wasn’t a normal ‘dog’ after he had knocked Jack on his arse with ease. He looked far bigger and lot more threatening and dangerous. She knew without a doubt Jack had better be careful otherwise he might end up the ‘dogs’ next meal and Will would have a perfectly good excuse for why his dog had bitten Jack.

"I told you the Ripper didn't do this Jack, all the organs are here, the Ripper would never leave the organs behind. This killer had is more than likely a Copy Cat as the kill is similar to that of the Ripper's but not at the same time, this Killer was interrupted, likely by the person who reported the death. Now, if you'll excuse me I would very much like to go home and have dinner," Will snapped, his eyes cold and hard.

He did not care for Jack at all. Not that anyone present blamed him. Jack Crawford was a horrible man who only cared about his job and no one else. Jack watched as Will and Hannibal got into Hannibal car and drove off, that huge ‘dog’ sitting in the back seat watching him with. Jack shivered.

----------

Hannibal sat quietly as he listened to Will rant about Jack and how callus and cruel he was, he’d known Jack was using him for a long time, he was only helping the BAU and the FBI because it was the best use for his skills and he could help catch killers. He hadn’t set down any ground rules when he had first come to help and his mental and emotional state was suffering because of it.

He had been getting better since he’d met Hannibal, the nightmares were lessening. He was still having problems with sleepwalking but was learning to deal with it. He no longer changed out of his everyday clothes, ensuring the “went to bed” with warm, thick clothes on knowing he would end up outside at some point during the night.

His nightmares weren’t truly nightmares anymore, they had mostly stopped after he’d found Wendi trapped and hurt in the forest. They were now of the cases he was working on or of Hannibal and the small amount of information he had gathered on the man.

He had been trying to order his mind a bit, hoping it would help him deal with the nightmares. It had. He was getting better at packing the memories away into the different boxes and rooms around his house. He had used the forest to store some of the memories.

Will had been trying to organised his mind a bit, hoping it would help him deal with the nightmares. It had. He was getting better at packing the memories away into the different boxes and rooms around his house. He had used the forest and the river were distractions and protection. His dogs were also added in. Wendi was his last defense. Things changed after he added Wendi. Hobs finally left him alone.

The other ghosts left him alone. He knew he was safe in his own mind, though he was careful when creating his mental world, trying not to wander too far. His body tended to follow his mind. At least he no longer woke up feeling cold. He had been shocked when he had first woke paralyzed and unable to control his body to find Wendi had followed him.

Stand instead of crawling along the ground like he usually did.

He grabbed Will’s wrist and lead him back towards the house, making sure he didn’t trip and helped him to bed before curling around him. Will thanked him for the next day and had explained that he sometimes got sleep paralysis. He was awake but unable to control his body.

Note: Thank you for reading. I should have the next chapter up soon

[readerstories]

Moving day - Will Graham x gender neutral!reader

Just fluffy stuff :) Gender neutral. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3)

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 952

Request: Hi! Could I request a Will Graham X Reader where the reader just moved in with him and they are just having a good time. thanks.

Do u still accept request? If so, would you mind writing more hannibal/reader & will/reader? I so enjoy what you write for hannibal reader insert fic. I need more of them in my life. Please?

Moving boxes might be the most boring thing you know, even if it’s for something as good as moving in with your long time boyfriend. You love him with all your heart, but moving boxes sucks.

His 6 dogs doesn’t really help the situation, running between both your legs the whole time, excited because of all the moving of stuff. It wasn’t many big things, since you didn’t need to bring things like furniture, but it was still quite a bit of stuff.

When you finally finish, you both dump yourself down on the nearest flat surface, luckily it’s the couch. Although you are sure even the floor would have done the trick too. You sigh and lean your head on Will’s shoulder, trying not to close your eyes for too long as not to fall asleep.

“You are not going to fall asleep on me are you.” You hum, not moving and inch.

“Don’t tempt me.” Will chuckles at that, you feel his shoulder move. You look up and meet his fond eyes and smile.

“What is that for?”

“I just love you, that’s all.”

“Even after moving all my boxes?”

“Even after that.” You smile back at him, leaning up to give him a kiss.  He returns it, a hand sneaking into your hair. Breaking apart you rest your forehead together. At that moment your stomach gurgles, hunger making it’s prescence known.

“Someone hungry?” You can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Shut up.” You grumble, getting up from the couch to find your phone. Will stays right where he is, content with watching you. With a triumphant ‘Aha!’ you find your phone under his jacket.

“What are you doing?” 

“Ordering pizza from the one place that will come out here.” Will groans, letting his head fall back on the couch. Willson comes and licks his hand to get pets. He gets them.

“I thought you said their pizza was shitty?” 

“It’s passable as food, and I’m to lazy to cook right now, so pizza it is.” You call the place and place your usual order, as usual they say 40 minutes. Hanging up, you make your way over to the newly set up speaker system and plug your phone in. Before you start the song you found, you gesture to Will to get up.

“What do you have in mind know?” 

“We have some time to kill, so I thought we could dance together like on our first date. Like old times you know.” Will snorts, and you start the music. He takes your hand in his, his hand on your hip, yours on his shoulder and start to sway to the music.

“It’s only 3 years ago, it’s not that long ago.”

“Possible ancient by today’s standard, if all the dating shows on tv is anything to go by.” Will grins at your statement.

“I thought you stopped watching those ‘garbage’ shows?” You can feel him trying to make quotation marks without letting go of you anywhere.

“Well, yeah, but they’re weirdly fascinating.”

“Mhm.” The noise from Will is non-committal, since he chooses that moment to drag you closer and and hide his face in your neck. You let him, closing your eyes, just swaying to the music with him.

When the current song ends and the next one starts, he pulls away to give you a look. You grin.

“Hey, I thought we could relive another moment from our dating history while we wait. Remember when you got super drunk at that club and challenged me to a dance battle?” He groans, still holding you like you were dancing to the slow song from earlier.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Well, I am, so.” You let go off him and push him away a little.

“Dance off.” You smile at him, he smiles right back, shaking his head at your antics. And with that, he actually starts dancing.

His dancing is terrible, you can’t help but laugh. He challenges you right back, and you can’t say yours are much better with how much you are both laughing. 

The next 40 minutes go by in no time, dancing with and against each other, dogs trying to join in on the fun as well. Your dancing is only interrupted by the door bell when the delivery guy finally makes it. 

The dogs run to the door, and must greet the guy before you are able to get through them all and pay him. You make sure to tip well as usual before shooing them all back inside. You hold up the pizza in the air triumphantly when you make it back to Will.

“I got our food, let’s eat!” Will chuckles, you set the pizza down on the table, already filled with plates at Will’s doing. You both dig in as soon as you’re seated, too hungry to say anything in between bites. 

When the pace slows down, some pieces even make their way under the table to the dogs, not that neither of you would admit it. Shouldn’t teach the dogs bad habits and all that. 

When you are done, Will gets up to do the dishes. He gives you a kiss on the forehead when he passes you. You lean into his warmth, content and full.

You watch his back from your seat, saying nothing, just watching him washing dishes with the sleeves of his flannel rolled up while talking to the dogs. It really hits you in that moment that you have moved in with a man you love. It hits you so hard, that you just have to say it out loud.

“I love you.” Will gives you a smile over his shoulder.

“Love you too.”

[onsand]

@dralanabloom said  :    ‘ are you sleeping better? ’

     IT’S EARLY STILL,    and the coffee shop is filled more with empty spaces than customers.    they’re scattered through the small room like detritus  —  a woman with thick plastic headphones tucked into the corner by the shopfront window,  two college-age men in rumpled clothing bending like ferns over one of the small round tables in the middle of the floor...    mostly,  people step in and step out again,  heavier a steaming cup or a small paper bag.    will tends to be that sort of person;  if he were alone,  if alana hadn’t agreed to come here with him once they paid their dues at jack’s crime scene,  he would’ve joined that number.    would have preferred the transience  —  he feels out of place here,  like he’s stitching himself into the casual kind of existence he’s never quite been able to achieve.    would prefer to have drunk his coffee on the walk back to the station,  or in his room at the motel.

     alana doesn’t seem to share that discomfort,  and her ease spreads to will.    like the emission and reception of some calming pheromone.    when he’s with them in wolf trap,  his dogs can sense his nerves  —  his own tension sets them on edge,  just as their comfort loosens his misgivings.    THERE’S AN ECHO OF THAT HERE  —  some reverberation of pack mentality.    will wipes his fingers on a thin white napkin and sits back in his chair.    his sausage and egg sandwich sits half-eaten on its wax paper wrap,  quickly cooling.    he’ll take it with him when they leave,  doesn’t like the idea of throwing perfectly good food to waste,  but he can’t stomach it right now  —  doesn’t have the appetite.

     “ not particularly. ”    blunt but not intentionally rude  —  he looks over at alana for a moment,  gaze resting on the soft chocolate curls tucked behind her ear.    she always looks put together,  even when roused from slumber in the middle of the night to set her eyes on scenes that’d send most people’s stomachs churning.    an eternal softness about her appearance,  like the veneer of silk or velvet over steel.    this close,  he can nearly smell her shampoo  —  or product,  maybe  —  and though he hardly has dr. hannibal lecter’s nose,  it smells vaguely sweet.    fresh.    strong enough that he wonders if she’d had the time to shower this morning,  or maybe had done so before she went to bed.

     “ dr. lecter thinks it’s stress, ”    he says,  picking up his coffee cup and turning it over in his hands.    he runs his fingers over the ridges in the sleeve,  feels out the lip where it ends and drops off into the smooth cardboard of the cup itself,  worries that almost-sharp edge.    “ lack of control  —  a bright red bicycle rolling down a steep hill with cut brakes. ”    he lifts his gaze  —  tries for a smile,  though it sits on his face more like a grimace.    bitter,  self-deprecating.    he chases it away with a swig of coffee.    “ starting to think he's got a point. ”

                     MEME      /      ACCEPTING

[elfnerdherder]

Opus Dei: Chapter 4

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A warm, genuine thanks to my patrons: @sylarana @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @frostylicker Duhaunt6, Superlurk, Mendacious Bean, and Laura G.! <3 May your Friday be fun and fucking fantastic.

Chapter 4: Extemporaneous

It always began with questions. The drugs prescribed made it difficult to handle the questions. Fog that spread, a head that dipped to whichever way the mind wanted to take him. It made lips glue, though, emotions difficult to handle in hands that didn't know how to hold them.

"Are you having nightmares?"

Will stared at the point fixed just beyond their shoulder. Dr. Lattic was their name, and they were as pleased as punch to have an intelligent psychopath like Will Graham in their clutches. They liked to tell them that whenever they appeared to witness him take his medicine.

"One of the orderlies thought they heard you crying out in your sleep." They made a note on their legal pad and observed him over their reading classes set to perch just at the edge of their nose. "Are you dreaming of the illness, or the things you've done?"

Jared Freeman paced behind Dr. Lattic, and Will tracked where he supposed he'd wander if he was stuck in such an interview as this. That they'd presume to understand him, that they'd suppose they'd ever seen into a mind like his...

"Dreaming of what he did while you slept under the blue," Garrett Jacob Hobbs whispered, just beside the doctor's ear. He was a rat. "What did he do to you whenever blue lights made you sleep?"

"I can't say that your cooperation will ease your sentence, given the things you've done, but if we can make you come to terms with some of the things your troubled psyche made you do, there might be something we can do to ease your experience here," Dr. Lattic said, tilting his head. A different tactic.

"Fool's gold," Jared snarled.

"The things done to you," Garrett Jacob Hobbs corrected. "You only enjoyed hurting the ones that tried to hurt you first."

The bloodstains on Hobbs' shirt never came clean. Will dreamed of washing it in a cold stream of thought, but it never came clean because you can't wash away bullets once they've been fired, and he'd learned that the hard way. He wondered if Abigail would have helped, if the monster under the bed hadn't decided to eat her, too.

"Silence for another session, I see. Perhaps we should lower the dosage. Your eyes are unfocused, and I wonder where your thoughts are directed today."

He was wheeled through two security doors before he's dumped into his cell, the cuffs released from his hands and feet only after he's laid back onto the bed. It's degrading, but emotions are fog. He can't grip one enough to feel it, and he lays in the damp of the low-budget facility midst the screaming of one of the other inmates whose lunch wasn't delivered at the right moment pertaining to their OCD.

-

Will visited Wolf Trap National Park when the body could only fix so much of the house. Things had to be taken slow, no matter how much his mind raced. He wondered if the ideas had begun to fester yet, if Hannibal had taken his bait. 

He sat at the park and did as he often did, as he often had to do. It was a flat, open area with small spattering of oaks and sugar maples. Some Bradford Pears  lined to the right threatened to stink the entire place up soon. A few people walked, mostly young adults or the elderly with small children. The playground nearby entertained the children as their guardians gossiped and caught up on old news. The latest body found was suspected to be the second body in the new Chesapeake Ripper wave. Much of the gossip, it seemed, circulated that, from hands that gripped and folded the newspaper article to mouths that puckered and pulled. Hard to talk about death at a park. Things were cheerful, there.

He thought about calling Molly, but it seemed in poor taste to call someone just to waste their time. Dating was commitment, dating was honesty and vulnerability and hands clasped just to walk down the grocery aisle. Still, she'd smiled so brightly when she realized he wasn't trying to be condescending. She looked like the type to like dogs. 

He thought about time and hobbies and let his fingers idly scroll through his limited contacts on the phone. The Chesapeake Ripper probably wouldn't want him to date. Maybe he'd kill anyone that got too close to Will like he did last time. Maybe he wouldn't only until Will's guard was down.

It was the bird that caught his eye, even though he was supposed to be people-watching and letting the time pass. It limped along, not like the other birds around it that hopped for the worms bursting from the earth fresh from Spring rain. He stared for a moment, then another as it registered. When the bird tried to hop again, he stood from his lonely bench and slid his jacket off.

It was a male cardinal, bold and ruby red against the green. Its leg was bent oddly, and when it fluttered in panic at his approach, he stilled. "Easy," he murmured, and he wished it could be so easy as that. Say something, and it come true. Easy, and the bird was eased. Catch him, and the killer was caught.

He tossed the jacket and made the clumsy effort of scooping the bird up, all awkward elbows and quick hands. Its plaintive cries were muffled, and he straightened the arm of his jacket to try and give the bird some air flow. 

"H-hey, hey," someone called, and Will turned to see a small-statured man with narrow shoulders and an uneasy expression. He stood hesitantly on the sidewalk, and he gestured once he had Will's attention. "I saw the bird...are you gonna h-help him?"

"Do you know how to help him?" Will asked. "Or do you know someone that can?"

"I-I can help him," he said, and his face brightened.

"You can?" Will smiled, and the cries of the bird didn't bother so bad.

"Follow me, I can help the bird..." 

And just like that, Will found himself in the care of one of the stable hands that worked with the horses at the park. He managed to catch as much as they worked their way past the park, past the stables, and back towards a quaint white house whose trim matched the stables perfectly.

"Back here," he said, and the closer they got the brighter his face became. Behind the quaint white house sat a barn, and when Will ducked inside, he was greeted by the sound of dozens of birds, a disarming cacophony.

"Here, y-you can set him here." He gestured, and Will complied.

"Do you take care of all of these birds?" he asked, turning around. Now that the surprise of them wore off, their calls seemed more interwoven, less chaotic.

The man carefully unfolded the jacket and made quick work of securing the bird. "Yes." 

Will smiled. "What's your name?" 

"Peter." He glanced up, then away and smiled, his hold on the bird careful and gentle. 

"I'm Will. I'll let you work...can I see him when you're done?"

"Ye-yeah, just wait out there...I'll call you in, he'll be okay."

Will headed out of the barn and gave Peter his space to work. A bale of hay sufficed for a seat, and he listened to the trailing calls of the birds inside, each secured in their own cage. Chickadees, scrub jays, a pigeon, doves, robins; maybe a caretaker on the grounds. Will had made a point not to look at the dent in the back of his head when he'd followed him.

Bird casts were delicate things, and Peter Bernadone took delight in Will being fascinated by it. He was humbly surprised by the care Will took in waiting, and they sat outside of the barn for awhile. Will felt a gentle disposition in him, as well as a genuine kindness.

"I love the animals, they...they don't do harm."

"They can do harm," Will said, thinking of Winston. He hadn't done harm until Agent Crawford decided to find out just who his previous owners ha been.

"Not like us...n-not like humans," Peter disagreed, and he watched a horse in the corral just across from the barn. "Humans are the only...the o-only ones to intentionally do h-harm. Animals don't have that, but we do."

Will couldn't argue that. If the latest killing was the Chesapeake Ripper, that artist hadn't stabbed himself in the chest before removing the kidneys. At least the animals wouldn't have let it go to waste.

"Is that why you work with animals? Because they're better than people?"

Peter laughed and looked down at the cage where the cardinal rested. The small cast dwarfed his stick-thin leg, but he'd assured Will it would heal. "Gotta p-protect them from people."

"We also have to protect people from people," said Will. "I think you're onto something.

He left the park a little while later, but only after asking Peter if it was okay if he came back.

-

The news could be savage when it wanted to be. When it couldn't speculate farther on the latest killing to hit DC, it ruminated on the infamous Will Graham and how he was now alive and well and on the roam. Was he truly innocent, or an acolyte, the news wondered? Could he return to his life after four years of incarceration? Would he begin to amass a wealth of death to rival the Ripper's before the jury was out?

Insomnia was a bitch. When he dreamed, he dwelled on the shadows filling the hollows of Hannibal's cheeks. Awake, he lay in a half-coherent doze on the couch and let the TV drone, anything to keep him from thinking too much. He was tired, but not tired enough. The news speculated on his absence from any media outlet. A month free, and the victim wasn't ready to start talking yet. If he started getting cold calls, he'd have to change his phone number. He wanted his story to be as old and stagnant as a standard traffic stop.

Work was easy, mindless, and the house was looking great. University classes for credits were pending, and should he get accepted he'd be allowed to swing right into a summer semester and begin getting his degree. A GED in the cell wasn't as impressive as a diploma across a high school stage, but he'd take what he could get, should they let him in. At the end of the day, bosses just wanted to see a degree. How you got it was irrelevant.

"--membered, displayed, I mean, if we analyze this realistically then the only indication that it could be the Chesapeake Ripper is because their kidneys are missing!"

"So you're saying that you don't think it's the Chesapeake Ripper's latest kill?" the newscaster asked.

Their interviewee fluffed their coif lightly. "I'm just saying that it's a bit presumptuous this early to say. It could be, but normally this form of psychopath is a tad more...violent in his attack. A single stab wound?"

"A single shot," Will corrected her in the otherwise quiet living room. As if he could have stopped at one, should he have decided to pull the trigger.

"The kidneys are a tell-tale sign, though. Our analyst, Brice Hoey, can confirm that there are currently no other known serial killers in the area that take organs as trophies."

"It's too early to tell," their guest pressed, and they shook their head. "If there was more information on the crime scene, we could confirm if the Chesapeake Ripper's other calling signs are there, but until the next report is released, I can't put my stamp on the case."

"We could always ask Will Graham," the newswoman joked.

"I think any information from him would have to be verified before it could be taken as fact," they replied. "Encephalitis is a serious illness, and coupled with the other traumatic things that happened to him at a young age, it's difficult to say if we can trust--"

Whenever the topics steered towards his mental state, Will would find it in himself to let the silence of the house keep him company, instead. The expanse of it yawned, and there were no repairs to be easily made. He needed a distraction.

-

Maybe that's why Will found himself pouring two cups of coffee one Friday morning a week or so later instead of one. Part time ensured he'd have time for some classes before Summer arrived and let him begin college in earnest. Hobbies. Busy hands. He'd called Molly and had the brutal pain of leaving a voicemail. All that courage, wasted in the face of a busy schedule. He'd stammered once before hanging up. Likely she'd been watching the news, too.

"You won't return my calls," Jack said, accepting the cup. 

They sat out on the porch while Winston trotted about the yard, sniffing through the hesitant grass. Spring was trying its best in Wolf Trap.

"I won't," Will agreed, sitting down in the chair next to his. He'd re-stained them one evening, and they looked better than new.

"Have you watched the news recently?"

"I have," said Will.

"Then you know there's another body."

Winston was older, and it was apparent in how he didn't wander too long before trotting to Will and laying down at his feet. What was he, seven or eight? Will reached down and rubbed his ears affectionately.

"That's a nice dog you've got there, Will," Jack tried again.

"Same dog as the one you branded me a killer for," Will said curtly. Then, throwing somewhat of a bone, "he's a good dog. I didn't expect him to remember me."

Discomfort sat stupid between them for a time, each one sipping their coffee with grimaces. It was uncertain if it was the strong coffee or the silence that made it bitter. Will knew exactly what Jack wanted, only it was the very thing he didn't want to give. He had busy hands, only they didn't want to be busy with something like Jack and his manipulations. His mind was trying to confuse the two, though. It reasoned how much it wanted to do already.

"You see this person the way no one else does," Jack tried for a third time.

"I just interpret what I see in front of me."

"So just interpret something for me."

"Am I the only poor bastard you could corner on such short notice?" Will wondered incredulously. "Seriously."

"Who else would I ask?"

"Specialists, therapists, hell; ask Alana Bloom."

"I have gone to specialists, detectives, therapists, doctors, and every behavioral analyst known to hell and creation. None of them see him like you do. None of them saw the others like you did, Will. Otherwise I'd have never used you." There was a catch in his voice, something that seemed to surprise even Jack. "I'd have...never asked you to look if I didn't think you were saving lives."

"You think maybe I see him like no one else because I've spent the night at his house?" Will wondered. Ever thought it was because I've fucked him?

Jack ground his teeth. "I think it's because you look at things from a perspective uniquely yours. I think you pay the price for it, but you do it."

"And don't you wonder if I ever get tired of seeing things that way?" he asked, ashamed at how his own voice betrayed him. "Maybe I'd just like a simple life where I don't have to feel that way all the time. Shouldn't you care about something like that?"

"He's hurting people, Will," Jack needled, and it's there that Will was forced to feel the sunburn ache of Jack's guilt. "The longer I take to find him, the more people he hurts."

Winston made another round in the yard, and Will watched him halfheartedly chase a bird. "I'm not leaving this porch," he said. "And I don't want to see pictures, either."

Jack snatched the bone offered. "Okay."

He set his empty cup down and left Will to his own drink, the grounds fine enough some had seeped through the filter. He wasn't too experienced with making coffee, but he was trying. Learning adulthood was one step at a time and one Google search with each failure. He hadn't had a lot of people-watching in the hospital. He didn't have a lot to go on when he was learning how to get the stains out of a white t-shirt or timing the coffee grinder to keep the beans from turning to dust.

"The body was found in their workshop," Jack said, and he looked out across the field. Will wondered what memories Jack held of this place in comparison to his own. Ones no uglier, that was certain. "The victim is an artist, Sebastian Bibee, displayed in front of his work station. A young artist, one up-and-coming. No criminal history apart from one minor-in-possession."

Will thought about it; the news hadn't gone much into detail on how he was displayed. He was glad he'd had the thought to forbid pictures. Pictures would have made him see, and he didn't want to see Hannibal's wrath after being threatened in his own home by something so artlessly tasteless as a gun. "How was he displayed?"

"A single stab wound to the chest and a small surgical incision in the back. He took the kidneys."

"How do you know it's the Chesapeake Ripper, then?" Will asked dubiously. 

"That's what I'm talking to you for. The media's looking for answers, but I won't give them one until I know for sure."

Will stood up and took Jack's empty cup, using that as an opportunity to think as he went through the motions of making another one. When he set it down, he leaned against the post on the porch and frowned, cramming his hands into his pockets. 

"Could have been someone harvesting organs," he said slowly. He thought of one of the late night guest speakers on the news. "Normally they leave them alive, though, don't they?"

"Yes."

"Could've gone wrong."

"The painting on the easel was Jael and Sisera," he said, and his expression sobered as he looked Will over. "Does that mean something to you?"

"Should it mean something to me?" 

"I'd show you a picture if I thought it'd help," he offered.

"I'll look it up later," he promised.

Jack looked out over the field, and if his memories of those awful days haunted him, it didn't show on his face. Only time did. Time, and a bitter sense of wounded pride. Will wondered how much crow he'd had to eat when the time came that he'd realized Will wasn't the killer. A dark part of him wished he'd lost his job over it, but the FBI takes care of their own. The good old boys club, and Jack was just trying to be a good, old boy.

"It's a bible story," he explained. "Jael promises aid to a defeated Canaanite leader, Sisera, and while he sleeps she drives a peg through his head. One of my guys said it's pretty symbolic."

"Pretty something," Will grimaced. 

"You think you're in danger, saying it's him?"

"No," Will lied, only it was the kind of lie he'd practiced in the hospital, the kind orderlies didn't think to look for. "I'm not the only thing that revolves around this guy, Jack. He was killing long before me, and he'll kill long after if he's not caught."

"I don't think that's necessarily the case," Jack argued.

"Who says he's not threatening to kill you? Lull you into a sense of security, then drive a peg through your head just when you think you're getting close."

It was like being at the crime scenes again, only Will wasn't eighteen and sick and terrified and naive. Age didn't feel like wisdom, but it made it easier to talk back to Jack, to pick up his ebb and flow of speech and accidentally mimic it. He wondered what they'd done with the FBI jacket he'd used to tote around--likely rotting in an evidence locker somewhere.

Jack scowled, and he sat on that for a bit. "...What's that mean for the body?" he asked the coffee mug.

"Fuck all about the body, it's just another tool to him. Humans are tools to him."

Winston trotted back once more and laid down.

"Who's he trying to direct it at, then," Jack mused. "Me or you?"

"I bet he's hoping you ask me that, and you did." Will grinned. "What's that say about you, Jack?"

Jack stewed on that, and he didn't finish his second cup of coffee. They watched the breeze tease small shoots of tall grass out in the field. 

"How's he choosing them?" Will murmured, more to himself than Jack. 

"Don't you know?"

"If I knew, I'd have found him a long time ago." Will chewed on his thumb, stewing. Some symbolic, some close, some far away and strangers. "I wonder what connects them."

"We're looking for connections, but apart from the ones that all had relationships with you they don't have any correlation. Seemingly random, even before you came along."

Will had nothing for that. He thought about the artist, and he resisted the urge to ask for a photo.

When Jack left, he didn't promise not to call, but he didn't say they'd be in touch soon either. Will took it as a bit of a win, and he went back to mend a bit of fence he'd noticed needed repair while they talked.

Will looked up Jael and Sisera on his phone long after Jack left, and he stared at it for awhile, thinking. Thoughts leapt like the fish in the river back behind the house, plentiful and  distracting, and he supposed that if it was the Chesapeake Ripper's response to Will pointing a gun at him, it was time that he toss the line in again. He had a fish ready to bite.

Jael, knelt, poised, her lap the pillow Sisera lay his head to sleep. The expression on her face was not violent as she pressed the nail to his ear. For a moment, he saw it much like her carving thoughts, ideas, beliefs into him. He blinked, and the hammer just above would surely strike too hard to be of any aid once she had finished crafting his mind. Surely the mallet would strike, and her creation would be obliterated? Surely everything would be destroyed in the aftermath of her actions?

An artist recreating it, only they were interrupted. Had he finished the painting? Was Sebastian stopped halfway, a single stab wound to the chest the only thing keeping him from finishing his work? Jael's mallet never striking the nail, dust never again beaten from the marble. Frozen on the canvas, she looked to Will much like Hannibal, carving secret things into whatever dark crevices he could find. Had Will killed him that night, would Hannibal's creation have been considered finished? Or would Jael's hammer have fallen and taken Sisera with her in the end?

Will couldn't have said, but he thought about it long after. Insomnia was a bitch, and so was Jack Crawford. 

[bi-bard]

In Different Universes - Will Graham Imagine (Hannibal)

Title: In Different Universes

Pairing: Will Graham X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 889 words

Warning(s): mention of past trauma

Summary: [Season 3] (Y/n) and Will had each been handed a rotten hand of sorts. The only thing that seemed to pull either one of them through it was each other. Now that the pair of them have seemingly escaped the holds of Hannibal and their old lives, the pair tries to find peace in a small, secluded cabin.

Author's Note: I have toyed with this idea for a while. It was like there were a hundred ways to write it. I wrote this as a kinda-sorta crossover (it feels silly, but I thought it was cute). I went this way in the hopes of referencing things like the Skam universe. I hope I did that idea justice.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE

---------------------------

(Y/n) had lived in isolation before.

With their mother many years ago.

(Y/n) could vividly remember how excited they were about the idea of leaving. Of finding a place that was simply more exciting. More interesting.

Some would say that (Y/n) had succeeded. Meeting Hannibal was definitely more interesting than most other things that (Y/n) had experienced. Sadly, the twist in (Y/n)'s story quickly became more horrific than interesting.

So, they ran back to the solitude they had once been so desperate to get away from.

This time was different. It was going to be different.

Because this time, they had Will with them.

The pair had already been hiding away. In Will's secluded house in Wolf Trap. After everything that had happened, they both needed a change of scenery.

They found a cabin tucked away in the woods, hours away from the rest of the world. No serial killers or FBI agents. Just a collection of dogs and some attempt at peace and solitude.

It felt natural for the pair of them.

Will was the closest thing that (Y/n) had known to a best friend. (Y/n) was one of the only people that Will thought could understand what he had been dragged through. They were both convinced that this was the only living situation either one of them could deal with for some kind of extended period.

One morning, (Y/n) was sitting out on the porch. A mug in their hands and a blanket wrapped around their legs. Will came outside a few moments later, going to sit next to them on the bench he had put there. A few of the dogs came out to join them, finding places around their feet.

At the time, they were still somewhat new to the area. It was nice. The weather took some time to adjust to, but the quiet of their cabin in the woods made that adjustment seem minuscule.

"Do you ever wish that we hadn't met," (Y/n) asked quietly.

Will looked over at them. "What?"

"We... We only met because of tragedy," they explained. "I just... Sometimes I wonder if certain things could've been avoided if we had simply never met."

It took Will a few moments to form some kind of response, "No."

(Y/n) looked back at him.

"I don't believe that us meeting is the reason that so much tragedy and death happened," he continued. "I think that Hannibal is at fault for that. Well, most of it. He was the common factor between not just our meeting, but through all of the death that followed."

(Y/n) looked down at their cup of coffee. They were still struggling with a lot of self-blame from what happened around them. It seemed inevitable. After being so close to Hannibal for so long, it sometimes was hard for (Y/n) to accept that they had no true control over what Hannibal had done. That they could never had stopped Hannibal's drives and desires. Not truly.

"I think we would've met even if Hannibal wasn't involved," Will added after a moment of silence. "Us meeting was inevitable."

(Y/n) scoffed.

"That sounded like you," he made the joke before they could.

"Oh, absolutely," they nodded.

"I meant it though," he muttered.

(Y/n) leaned over and rested their head on Will's shoulder.

Will let out a sigh, his shoulders falling a bit as he did.

"You're my best friend," (Y/n) mumbled.

"You've mentioned that."

"I know, but... I... I just want to make sure that you know."

Will grinned. Through all that had happened, (Y/n)'s true nature peeked through. Just for a moment. But it was there.

He let his head rest against (Y/n)'s. A calm, slow morning. Something neither one of them was used to.

Will was right.

(Y/n) and Will were meant to meet. Whatever entity that was in control of the universe seemed to have the pair of them in its good graces. Their paths crossed in almost every story you could think of.

As Will and (Y/n) sat together, drinking coffee on their little porch, other stories were also in motion.

One version of Will and (Y/n) were preparing for a murder trial that was causing both of them to lose sleep, even though both of them would tell the other to get some rest before going to court.

Another pair were curled on the floor of a small house, (Y/n)'s arms wrapped around Will as he confessed everything he had done. Sobbing and yelling and desperate attempts to explain that he was doing what was right for the movement.

A third pair were taking turns rambling facts about space back and forth to each other in a small apartment in New York.

A fourth was running around a castle, (Y/n) making fun of Will for the group of fans that seemed to be able to predict where he was going to be.

A fifth version of (Y/n) was just finding a bloody and exhausted version of Will, wrapping their arms around him and almost sobbing at the idea that they had almost lost him.

All of them had unique stories and lives. Each different. Yet the same basic idea... the pair of them were meant to meet. Meant to find each other. Maybe not romantically, but just as important.

The pair truly were some version of soulmates.

---------------------------

Author's Note: This feels silly and dumb, but I wanted to write it and I thought it fit pretty well in this little series. It also felt like a good way to break up the really heavy shit that this series usually handles.

Oh, and see if you can guess all projects referenced in this (I didn't change the names because it would've created quite a bit of extra work)

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[victorineb]

Hannigram A/B/O Big Bang 2019 - Brouillé

So excited to finally be posting my entry for @hannigram-a-b-o-library‘s Big Bang 2019! I was partnered with @nonexistenz who has created some wonderful art which you can see on their blog or with the rest of the fic over on AO3.

Here’s a snippet to whet your appetites - hope you enjoy!

***

Hannibal feels no compunction in wandering through Will’s house, placing his hands all over Will’s belongings. It’s not as if he will ever know and Hannibal is hardly going to let such a golden opportunity slip through his fingers. One can tell so much, after all, from a person’s home – even his, he suspects, may have one too many racks of antlers for comfort, though he believes it reads more as “eccentric European” than “serial killer.” Will’s home is, just like its owner, utterly lacking in refinement but possessed of an unvarnished charm that Hannibal cannot help but appreciate. There are things he would change, of course – the untuned piano is a waste of a humble but decent instrument, and the spartan bed shoved into the corner is utterly unacceptable. Perhaps he should arrange for Will to be too drunk to drive home the next time they dine together, persuade him to stay in one of his guestrooms so that he might feel the benefit of a good mattress and linens with a thread count higher than double digits.

The house itself, though, is clean and neat, remarkably free of dog hair or smell, and Hannibal can see the appeal of such a sanctuary for someone like Will. The world presses ruthlessly on him from all sides; here, there is space to breathe and time to do it. Here, Will has no responsibility to anyone but himself and his pack.

He continues to drift through the room, taking in the pedestrian art and the eclectic literature that hints at the roots of Will’s lyricism. He recalls Will’s automatic, defensive ascent into his office library during their first session and thinks of how much more happily he might sit amongst the more personal collection at Hannibal’s home. He would be fearful to touch the rare editions, at first, but easily coaxed into pulling out a particularly interesting volume, eyes lighting with hunger and joy. He would soon lose himself in a novel, or perhaps some poetry, and Hannibal would quietly draw out his sketchbook and capture the moment, smiling indulgently when Will caught him, protesting that he could not stop himself from immortalising this moment between them. Later, he would draw from memory the look on Will’s face at his words, the blush on his cheeks, the hope in his eyes.

He bypasses Will’s untidy bed without a glance, instead homing in on the set of drawers which he imagines hold Will’s meagre, crease-filled wardrobe. He cannot imagine Will taking the time to hang any of the garments he clothes himself with, though he must have at least one suit, given his occasional duty to appear in court. Hannibal shudders briefly at the thought that he might turn up as an expert witness clothed in plaid and that dowdy blazer he wears to teach in. He must find out if this is the case and gently persuade Will of the value of a good suit. Or, if at all possible, convince him to let Hannibal introduce him to a decent tailor, perhaps secretly take care of the bill, let Will protest the gift but eventually accept with a shy smile…

Inside the drawer is a sight that makes Hannibal smile himself. Will’s clothing might be plain and utilitarian, and often covered with creases, but that, apparently is no reason not to fold each item with the same care and attention Hannibal would give to one of his own bespoke suits. Rows of immaculate white t-shirts, placed with the same precision one would find in a high-end boutique, catch Hannibal’s eye in particular. He recognises them as the same items Will was wearing the morning Hannibal surprised him with breakfast, the morning their great adventure began, and surmises that this drawer holds Will’s nightwear. He supposes that Will prefers to keep these items near, in case of the need to change following one of his nightmares. He wonders if Will bleaches them to keep them so white, if the scent of his sweat and fear are still clutched deep within their fibres.

Unthinkingly, he reaches into the drawer and pulls out the top shirt, holding it to his face and breathing in. No bleach, only the faintest trace of salt sweat, and none of the bitter fear he had expected. Instead, what Hannibal inhales is the pure, unsuppressed scent of alpha.

That’s all it takes. One. Deep. Breath.

The story continues on AO3.

[queerhannibal]

I've always wondered what Hannibal, Abigail, and Will's life on the run could've been like had Will had agreed without hesitation to go with them and run away with Hannibal and their "adoptive" daughter. I've always enjoyed stories in fanfics where we see bits or glimpses of the murder husbands with Abigail living here or there under alias names/new made up identities, being a family living together. What do you imagine it would have been like if the thought ever crossed your mind?

It definitely has crossed my mind many times!! It’s really hard to know what that would have looked like since we never actually got anything close to it in the show (just a lot of desire for it) but it was also surprisingly close to actually happening so it’s fun to contemplate

(As I’ve said before I don’t really think the whole murder family shtick would have been the best thing for Abigail but it’s still fun to think about)

I never got the impression that Abigail particularly liked murder and stuff and I can’t imagine Will being comfy with pressuring her to murder unless she indicated she actually wanted to, so I don’t imagine her killing alongside them or anything

But I do picture Will and Hannibal killing together, at least eventually. Will maybe wasn’t entirely ready for that in season two when this was a possibility, but he was getting there and I figure he would get there faster if he’d given in to his affection for Hannibal

I imagine they probably would go to Europe, although they’d definitely keep a lower profile than Hannibal did during the Italy arc; Hannibal in Italy was a desperate man with nothing to lose, and Hannibal with Will and Abigail would be a man who had just about everything he ever wanted (which is definitely something he’d work to protect)

I imagine Will and Hannibal would go from platonic to romantic almost immediately—honestly I think once Will found out Abigail was alive he was 100% willing and inclined to kiss Hannibal so like if that happened under better circumstances (sans stabbing) a kiss almost certainly would occur, or at least a kiss would occur soon after. And from there I mean like they’re gay and in love and both grownups who like sex so like I imagine things would get physical in short order

Hannibal hadn’t really had a chance yet to realize exactly how far he’d be willing to go over his love for Will but I feel like he’d get there. And for Will it was always a matter of fighting his feelings: none of the bullshit they went through was necessary to get him to a place where he could really love Hannibal, he really loved Hannibal all along and didn’t want to give into it because of the bullshit. If we reduce the bullshit we increase the ease with which Will accepts his love for his stupid terrible soulmate

It’s a lot easier to accept his love for a man who mistreated him and killed his friend than it is to accept his love for a man who did all that and also murdered his daughter in front of him while he was bleeding out on the ground after being stabbed by that same man, who then tried to saw his head open to eat his brain, is my thinking

So Hannibal and Will would be gay and happy with each other and I figure things would probably at least be sort of okay for Abigail since Will has some concept of how to be a reasonable human being and it’s not like Hannibal wanted to make her life awful or anything

They’d probably send her to college or at least help her to gather the skills to do something she wanted to do, and she’s a generic-looking white girl who everyone thought was dead so she wouldn’t really have to keep that low of a profile on her own. And of course there would be plenty of money to support her so she wouldn’t have to rush to find something she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing

Hannibal would probably have trouble with the idea of her going away to college but I feel like Will would probably convince him it was a bad idea to just keep her confined to the house all the time and like she’s a smart girl, she knows what the consequences of turning them in would be

Maybe eventually she’d get married to some nice person who never has any idea what her fathers are/were and someday hannigram get to be grandparents. That would be a nice, reasonably safe way for them to get to be in the life of a baby that felt like Theirs without doing something as dumb or immoral as letting Hannibal Lecter be responsible for the raising of an actual child (not to say I don’t love fic where they have a baby bc lord help me I do I’m just sayin that’s really not the ideal environment for a child to grow up in)

I don’t know really, I imagine it would be a pretty normal life, all things considered. They’d have too many dogs and they’d kill people but they’d have jobs and a house and be too proud of their daughter’s accomplishments just like any parents

[dailyspark]

2k of “I’ve had a brain scan before and this is not my brain” au where Will figures it out, set during “Buffet Froid”, taking some lines at the start directly from the show, up until it diverges away. // posted as chapter 4 of my hannigram fic collection on ao3

~~

Sitting across from Hannibal was familiar, it felt safe. If there ever was a place where he could be honest—so much more honest than ever, ever—it was here. Talking about Abigail was painful, but necessary. “Abigail ended Nicholas Boyle like a burst balloon. She took a life.”

“You’ve taken a life.”

There’s a bit of a cold look in Hannibal’s eyes at that and Will can’t help but respond in kind, “So have you.”

~~

“Do you feel alive, Will?”

“I feel like I’m fading.”  

~~

“I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger.” Leaning against the ladder, hoping for stability he wasn’t feeling. Will could only look at Hannibal, approaching.

“You have to honestly confront your limitations with what you do and how it affects you.”

Close, so close, Will could feel breath catch in his throat. Hannibal had him between the ladder and the rest of the room. Making their universe, this conversation, everything. Trying to push him away, saying, “If by limitations you mean the difference between sanity and insanity... I don’t accept that.” A fleeting eye contact with Hannibal, and he had to look away, over his shoulder. Wanting to escape this conversation. Move past it. But, but there was something. Something important to it.

“What do you accept?” Hannibal, always prompting, always wanting his interpretation. Making Will admit to things. This is why he liked him so much, why he could be honest in this setting. While it made him want to escape the situation, he knew the conversations were much more useful, they made him confront things otherwise he would keep buried.

“I know what kind of crazy I am and this is not that kind of crazy.” Unwilling to see the doubt in Hannibal’s face he turned away, “This could be seizures. This could be a tumor.” Pushing away from the ladder, closer to Hannibal, continuing the desperate plea for it to be something medical, “A .. a blood clot.” Everything but the diagnosis of mental illness.

“I can recommend a neurologist.”

~~

Getting through the MRI was a lot more nerve wracking that Will expected. Hallucinating pulling Beth LeBeau under her own bed. He really was done with today. Contaminating a crime scene, upsetting Jack and turning his concerned gaze on him had been a lot.

Being rude to his face wasn’t as nice either. He truly disliked disrupting this ‘stability’ as Jack called it. Teaching and trying to catch the killers—saving lives—no matter how it was bad for him, ultimately was good for him.

And then Dr. Sutcliffe had to go and lie to him.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically.”

Will frowned at the scans, looking them over. No. They were wrong. He stepped closer, looking at the pictures of the brain, listening to the doctor continue talking.

“Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.”

Something was very wrong. Will had had a brain scan before, in New Orleans, and he remembered it. Too well in fact, it had featured in his nightmares for long enough, that he could tell with a certainty that the brainscan Dr. Sutcliffe was showing him wasn’t his.

He needed time to think, to consider things. Will didn’t need to play up being upset, all he had to do was muddle through, “So .. what I’m experiencing is psychological?”

~~

The realization hit him not ten steps later, outside Dr. Sutcliffe’s office.

The reason for him lying, the reason for someone else’s brain scans, the two of them talking and talking while Will was in the MRI machine, the curiosity of the human mind under duress. It seemed so unlikely, but at the same time so fitting.

Will gulped, almost stumbling, moving the two steps required until the closest bathroom and got inside one of the stalls, gasping. Trying to have breath in his lungs.

The one person who knew so much, a doctor none-the-less, and skipping over all the medically valid options, repeating that all of this, all of it was mental illness. The betrayal hurt.

Hannibal was the first person Will had thought of calling as soon as he realized that Dr. Sutcliffe lied, he was the first and the last person Will would have trusted with this. The person who held all the power in this situation.

He was here, somewhere in the building, looking for Will, no doubt.

Almost hyperventilating, Will slid to the ground, hugging his knees. The chill from the floor tiles eventually brought him back. It chilled his thoughts as well. It also let him feel the subtle tells of a fever. So this was definitely medical. And something to be deal with now, instead of later.

He disliked leaving the case, but it had to be done. He hoped that evidence turned over enough to help apprehend the killer before he could be back at work.

And Hannibal. Well, Will would think what to do with him later. This betrayal was unnecessary, but it intrigued him as well. Why would he want to manipulate the situation such.

~~

Hannibal had tried to reassure him, but Will brushed him off, almost running away from the medical center, ready to get as far as he could.

He drove home.

While the mystery of Beth LeBeau’s murder would have lured him back to the crime scene, he put his survival first.

Feeding the dogs, he called the closest neighbours he had and arranged for someone to come feed them and walk them until he got back. He could have asked Alana for it, but she was too close to both the FBI and Hannibal.

Better that no one knew where he was going until he had some answers.

~~

Richmond was in the opposite direction of Baltimore. He was running away from Hannibal, wanting the distance between them to be more than real.

Checking himself into a hospital turned out to be easier than he expected—having a seizure in the emergency room instead of I-95 let him admitted and sent for another brain scan. Having non-FBI affiliated health insurance also didn’t notify anyone who might be looking for him. Realistically though, no one would, not until sometime tomorrow when he would fail to show up for a meeting with Jack at Quantico.

Until then all he had to do was wait for a doctor to say what exactly was wrong with him. A persistent thought kept saying that they would not find anything, and he had overreacted. That Hannibal would not betray him, that all of this was really stress of returning to field work.

Staring at the ceiling, trying to filter out rambles from his roommate from the other side to the privacy curtain, Will tried to unravel why would Hannibal and Dr. Sutcliffe pull something like this. Because on his own he wouldn’t have—something pushed him, and that something was most likely Hannibal. He had the presence for it. Manipulation.

Will remembered asking Hannibal if he was trying to alienate him from Jack. It had followed his first sleepwalking episode.

~~

Encephalitis.

The full diagnosis has a longer name, but Will had stopped listening. He was relieved, feeling tears in his eyes. Something was wrong with him, and not mentally. Hearing the doctor list the corresponding symptoms he has to flinch at each and every one.

Fits, if fucking fits. Despair has a particular taste in the air. He has a wish to grab the nearest phone, dial Hannibal’s number and scream ‘liar’ towards him, never listening to explanations. He curbs the wish, nodding towards the doctor and the proposed treatment.

~~

It’s Alana that find him first.

He’s on a second dose of a medical cocktail, floating between consciousness and darkness. The stag keeps walking past his room, huffing a cold breath, throwing snow to the ground. Will has to remind himself that Hannibal wouldn’t actually do anything to him. That he wasn’t that kind of person.

But why would he lie? Why would he betray Will so? Why was Will suddenly afraid of him?

A smile towards Alana when he felt more awake. A return smile made him blink again and realize that it was actually Alana there, and not another hallucination. “Hi.” Extending a hand, he pulled the glass of ice chips closer to him.

“Hi.” She seemed stuck someplace between confused and upset and relieved, Will couldn’t pinpoint it. It was probably all three at the same time. He could imagine the reason for confusion easily, but at the moment the upset and the relief were harder.

“I’m gonna be alright.” He tried to reassure her in return.

“Yes. Why are you here, Will?” A frown, and the confusion overwhelmed all other emotions.

“Umm, because I’m sick. Alana ..” He lost the end of the sentence, unsure what he wanted to say. Keeping quiet and letting Alana talk seemed more important at the moment.

“No, I mean why are you here, in a hospital in Richmond? I—I tried calling Hannibal, but he hadn’t heard from you either, not since your session. I had to get Jack to search area hospitals until we found you.”

Will blinked. Another lie. The last time he had seen Hannibal was after Dr. Sutcliffe’s false diagnosis. Was he right to fear for his life?

“Did .. does Hannibal know I’m here?” Will swallowed a few more ice chips, avoiding Alana’s gaze.

“I called him as soon as we knew. What is going on, Will?”

With a sigh, he turned back towards Alana. Finding a soft smile from the depths of his feelings, Will shook his head, “Nothing. I just .. needed to get away from everything. And then—I had a seizure in the er. The docs sent me for a brain scan. After that, well, they wouldn’t just let me go.” Shrugging, he felt the IV lines move, reminding him about their existence. Them and all the drugs were being pumped into him, to battle everything the encephalitis had already done to him.

~~

A week in the hospital, and Hannibal hadn’t visited once. Alana had insisted of transferring him to a hospital in Baltimore, but both Will and doctors objected.

It was on a drive home that Will had to stop at a rest stop, to vomit into the bushes.

The Copycat killer, the missing organs. Linking it up with the Chesapeake Ripper had seemed easy after that. Recalling that first breakfast with Hannibal, the protein scramble, and Will had to retch once more.

Stumbling back to the car, he slumped against it, pulling a water bottle from the back seat. Returning home mean a return to work, to his dogs. It also mean a return to Hannibal, to the Ripper.

He knew logically that there was no evidence. None. Miriam Lass had been looking into private medical records of Ripper’s known victims, and he was more than sure, that Hannibal had already corrected whatever it was the she uncovered.

Getting Hannibal to confess would be useless. If he was this careful, this connected to the current investigations, he wouldn’t let it slip, no way. Confronting him would no doubt end in Will’s death. Tobias Budge had proven that.

Back on the road, Will tried to understand his motivations. Why lie about Will to Alana? Why the deceit with the brain scans? Why, why, why? What was his agenda, his purpose in manipulating Will?

Whatever it was, Hannibal seemed to be pulling away from him. Will taking control made him pull away.

He recalled a conversation, one session before their last, about how they were both killed. How much had Hannibal talked about it. That, and alienation from Jack, getting immersed in the minds of the killers, Hannibal almost prodding him closer and closer to it all.

Was Hannibal trying to groom a companion? An opponent? Or was he simply playing with food? Will was determined to find it out. Having the knowledge gave him advantage.

He could show Hannibal, that he wasn’t the only one good at manipulation. At playing with food.

~~

Will had been home less than three hours when Jack called him. Abel Gideon, the supposed Chesapeake Ripper had broken out of custody.

Well, this was bound to be interesting.

[dralanabloom]

it wasn’t very often that perry cox let himself be seen. physically, yes, everyone could see him, and he made damn sure of that. constantly parading around like a proud peacock, strutting his stuff------maybe, just maybe  that’s why alana was so fond of him, when she was a child, her parents somehow allowed for her to attempt to raise a few peacocks-----------they’re stupid birds------------but they made her happy. but really, he didn’t let anyone see inside of him. 

alana took his vulnerability carefully. she didn’t take the opportunity to make a jab at him, like they usually would do back and forth. there was plenty of time to be had where they could do that. she held his words like precious cargo, and watched as he sunk down to the floor, hands running through his curls, head between his knees. their eyes met. 

she lets out a soft sigh and sits next to him, white lab coat tucked underneath her carefully. she waited in silence to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. after a minute or so, she speaks. ‘ i don’t talk a lot about my life before i came here. in fact, i actively try to forget it ever happened. maybe not healthy, but we all have our coping mechanisms. ’ she’s looking at him the whole time, kind eyes. ‘ i was told that i was catnip for serial killer's-----------verbatim. and after----well----- ’ she can’t even say it, but she’s thinking after what happened with hannibal. ‘ i thought it was true. i really did, i thought that was my fate, that i was walking around with one big bullseye on my heart, and the other right on my forehead, tempting my mortality as every day went on. i felt cursed too. ’

 a hand, slowly, carefully, almost as though trying not to spook a frightened stray dog, and rests upon his knee. ‘ you’re not cursed perry. you are good at getting in your own way, though ’ she tells him softly. ‘ your walls are high. ’ and she understands why. she’s not trying to patronize him, only to sympathize and just--------------let him process. ‘ why do you feel cursed ? ’ she hopes that after sharing with him, he’ll share back. maybe allow himself to be vulnerable. even just a little bit.

*      ╰       ⋮     “it’s like i’m cursed or something.” ━━  a meme (accepting)  ━━ @witchedhours​ (dr perry cox)

[madsmeetsmisha]

Hannigram/In My Dreams

Pairing: Hannibal x Will Summary: After falling from the cliff, Will wakes up badly injured in the hospital. How should he deal with a life without Hannibal ... Words: 4172 Warning: Angst, SMUT

A/N: Don't worry !There will be a happy ending! ^-^ And like always I am grateful for my wonderful beta reader @brokenfannibal

The first thing that Will perceived was a constant unpleasant beeping.

He had no idea where the sound came from and how to turn it off.

It took all his willpower to open his eyes. The bright light in the room dazzled Will and he wasn't able to see anything at all. But he sensed the agitation around him. Will could feel it but he could not figure out what it was about.

"Mr. Graham! Mr. Graham, can you hear me?” an unknown voice wanted to know.

Before Will could even try to answer, everything around him turned black again.

Next time he opened his eyes the annoying sound had disappeared. This time it was nearly dark in the room. Only a small light in front of his bed glowed. He was alone. The clearer his mind became, the more he felt the pain. His right cheek pulsed in pain, his head hurt and his whole left side felt numb. What had happened? Did he have a car accident? When he looked around he realised he was in a hospital.

Suddenly the door opened. A light beam fell into the room and a woman, probably the night nurse, entered the room.

"Mr. Graham! You are awake. I'll get Dr. Moore right away." She disappeared immediately.

Will briefly closed his eyes. It was exhausting for him to keep them open any longer. Not a minute later the nurse entered the room together with the doctor.

"Mr. Graham. I am glad that you are still with us.", the gray haired man greeted him. "Do you remember anything?"

Will tried to recall what had happened but he couldn't remember anything. He didn't even know why he was in hospital.

Slowly, he shook his head.

"You fell off a cliff. To be honest, I cannot explain how you were able to survive. You must have a very attentive guardian angel. Before, there was apparently a fight. You have a cut in your cheek. The impact on the water caused you three broken ribs, a fracture of the left lower leg and the left arm and you also have a heavy concussion. Unfortunately we also had to remove your spleen. We had to put you in artificial coma for three days. I think we should make some medical tests with you tomorrow, but it looks like you've been very lucky, Mr. Graham.”

All of a sudden the memory was back. No! This was not supposed to happen. Why was he alive? And where was Hannibal?

"Hannibal! What about Hannibal?" Will wanted to know. He tried to get up, but his left side ached too much.

Admiringly, the doctor smiled at him as he answered. "It looks like you've actually managed to turn down the Chesapeake Ripper, Mr. Graham. But Mr. Crawford will tell you more tomorrow. I believe he has a thousand questions to you. In any case, I guess he is already impatient to talk to you."

NO! No, this could not be true. Will shook his head. Tears flooded his eyes. Hannibal Lecter could not be dead while Will was alive. He didn't want to live in a world where Hannibal Lecter no longer existed. His heart was pounding in his chest. The monitor showing his vitals immediately sounded alarm.

"Mr. Graham. Please calm down." The Doctor came closer. He glanced at the night nurse, who quickly left the room. Will knew she would return with tranquilizer.

But he wasn't able to calm down. The thought of Hannibal being dead was worse than anything. He hadn't even considered it could end like this. The real reason why he had thrown himself and Hannibal off the edge of the cliff had been that he couldn't bear the thought of being separated forever should they be captured. Not after he had finally realized how much he loved Hannibal. And now it was even worse. Hannibal was dead while he had to live.

 "Did you ... have you found his body?" Will knew he was clutching at a straw.

The nurse returned with a glass of water and some medicine.

"No, Mr. Graham. No body was found. However, at this point the water is a several hundred feet deep."

The nurse handed him the medicine and the glass of water. Will accepted both gratefully. He wanted nothing more than to forget.

 It was almost a week later when Jack visited him. Will assumed that Dr. Moore had delayed the visit earlier. Will told Jack everything that happened that evening. He didn't bother lying. But Jack didn't want to arrest him.

"You killed Hannibal. I will be grateful forever. Let's leave it at that.", he said.

Will didn't know what was in Jack's report, and to be honest, he didn't care. He wouldn't even care if he had been put back into jail. Will felt as if his life was over. The only small light was the thought of his dogs. But it would take some time before he would be able to return to Wolftrap. First, his bones had to heal so that he would be able to climb the steps to his house without help.

After two endlessly long and monotonous weeks in hospital and another three weeks in a rehabilitation clinic, Will was restored so far that he was allowed to go home.

It was nice to be back with his dogs. Alana had kept the house in order and filled his refrigerator. She came by every second day to look after him. Will knew she worried about him. But he couldn't pull himself together.

He tried to tidy up the house from time to time and not neglect his hygiene completely but even this minimal effort consumed all his energy. It was as if Hannibal had taken all of Will´s vital energy with him to the ground of the sea.

One dark night he thought of ending what destiny had not done at the time of the fall off the cliff. But he could not bring himself to do it. Something held him back.

The nights were worst. His dreams nearly drove him crazy. Not because he was dreaming of Hannibal's death, but of how it would have been if he was still alive. If Will had run away with him. How it would be to live with Hannibal. Every day. To fall asleep next to him every single day. To live with him like a real couple, to kill together. His dreams were unbelievably realistic and the loss that flooded his lungs every time he awoke in the morning was suffocating. He knew he had made the wrong decision. He paid a high price for it. And he would keep on paying every day for the rest of his life.

 It was about half a year after the fall from the cliff, when the dogs began to bark one evening. He went down the stairs and found Chiyoh there. Surrounded by dogs, she stood with a gun in her hand.

"Did you come to kill me?" Will wanted to know quietly.

"Yes." was her simple answer.

Will nodded. And for the first time in months he smiled.

"I didn't dare to hope that you would come to end it." Will's statement seemed to make Chiyoh insecure.

"You look as if you were already dead. I thought you had returned to your life with your wife and were glad that Hannibal is finally gone.", she said after a while.

Will rubbed his eyes with one hand. He could not prevent himself from laughing and crying at the same time. "Whether you believe me or not, I hate that he's gone." Will replied.

"Did you suppose you both survived the fall?", she suspiciously wanted to know and aimed the weapon back at his head.

"No. I didn't think we would survive. But I was hoping both of us would die. I never wanted to survive. Without him. Without Hannibal, nothing makes sense. Even when he was imprisoned, I always knew where he was. I can not stand the thought that he just doesn't exist anymore. So please do what you came for. Please end it. I am more than ready to leave this world." Will's voice was just a whisper.

But Chiyoh lowered the gun. "You should take a shower and shave. A haircut could not hurt either. You look as if you had spent the last few years alone in the forests of Canada. Far away from civilization. Hannibal would be horrified."

Will couldn't stifle a laugh. Of course she was right. Hannibal would be horrified by his appearance. After a short time his laughter merged into crying. For the first time since Hannibal was dead, Will could give in to his tears. He collapsed completely and crouched on the ground. His face hidden in his hands, he cried about the loss of Hannibal. When, after an hour or so, there were no more tears, he looked up for the first time. Chiyoh had gone. Will assumed that she had realized that living represented the greater punishment for him.

Strangely enough, her visit caused Will to move on. He took a shower, changed clothes, and shaved. The dreams didn't stop and he didn't really feel better, but he managed to get something like regularity into his life.

It was two weeks after Chiyoh's visit, when Will woke up very early and felt something different. For a short time he thought that he had heard the dogs. But at the moment everything was quiet. It was only half past five in the morning. Outside the window it was still dark. Will did not know if he should try to fall asleep again. Nature demanded its right and Will decided to go to the bathroom. When he came back to his bedroom, he noticed a figure sitting at the edge of his bed. Hannibal!

Oh, Will thought, I'm still asleep. This is just a dream.

This would again be one of those dreams that left him cold and empty after waking up.

Hannibal just sat there and watched him. Amazed, Will realized that Hannibal was dressed differently than in his previous dreams. He wore no tailor-made suits, but a thin gray sweater and brown trousers. Since he knew that he could not escape the pain in the morning, he at least decided to make the dream beautiful. It was his dream. He could do whatever he wanted to. Determined, he went to Hannibal and sat down in his lap without saying a word. His brain seemed to have decided to be particularly creative, because Hannibal had never been so surprised in any of his dreams. Will ignored Hannibal's gaze and lowered his lips to the other man's. He tasted good wine and Hannibal himself. Will was intoxicated with how realistic this dream was. His tongue stroked over Hannibal's lower lip to ask for admission. It was astonishing how Hannibal's whole body stiffened under Wills touch. After a few seconds the older man seemed to relax. With a groan, Hannibal slightly opened his mouth. Will slipped his tongue inside and deepened the kiss. He buried one of his hands in Hannibal's hair and pushed him closer. The other hand found its way under Hannibal's sweater and stroked his flat stomach and hairy chest.

Wait! What? Hairy chest? Will had never imagined Hannibal could have hair on his chest. But he didn't get the time to think about it, as Hannibal lifted him to the bed. Will was now lying on his back. Close to Hannibal, who was above him. For a brief moment, the two men looked into each other's eyes. Hannibal's pupils were blown wide, so his eyes were almost black. How could this dream feel so real?

Hannibal passionately closed the distance between them and lowered his lips on Wills. His hands wandered under Will's T-shirt. Will couldn't do anything against the embarrassing sound that escaped from his lips. But it didn't matter. In the end this was just a dream. Even if it felt so damn real. Even if he knew that the pain would crush him again in the morning.

He wanted this.

They broke the kiss, only to catch breath again. Will sucked on Hannibal's neck. He tasted the salty skin and wondered how this could be possible. He never was able to taste in his dreams before.

“Will”, Hannibal whimpered.

“Oh God, Hannibal. I miss you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”, Will confessed.

Hannibal shushed him softly. “It's okay, Will. I'm here now. It's okay.”

He cupped Will's face with his hands and placed kisses all over Will's face. He moved down to Will's neck leaving a trail of soft kisses until he found Will's weak spot. Will couldn't stifle a moan when Hannibal started sucking and leaving a mark.

“Hannibal...I” Will's voice was a whisper compared to the loud moan that followed when Hannibal rolled his hips against Will's growing bulge. Hannibal eagerly started moving the younger man's shirt upward, exposing his torso. The cold air sent shivers down Will's spine. With the younger man's help Hannibal got rid of the shirt and tossed it away. His hands slowly moved down until he stopped at the waistband. He hooked his finger underneath before getting completely rid of Wills grey sweatpants. Will was only left in his boxers and the bulge was clearly visible against the fabric.

“You're wearing too much!” Will breathed against Hannibal's lips, while fumbling with the hem of the sweater. Hannibal got the hint and quickly removed it alongside his pants.

“Better?”, he asked.

Will wasn't able to answer because Hannibal already sealed their lips in a passionate kiss, leaving them both breathless. Will couldn't get enough of Hannibal's taste and tried to pull him even closer.

One more time Will remembered that this was only a dream and therefore there was no need to be shy. He quickly pulled Hannibal down and swapped places to be on top. Then he started kissing Hannibal's chest down to the elastic of the underwear, earning a deep moan from the other man who looked at Will with dark eyes. Will palmed Hannibal's clothed member before pulling the last layer of fabric down. He never would have been so bold in real life. Hannibal pulled Will back on top of him and thrust his hips hard against the younger mans. Will let out a desperate moan.

“Oh God, Will.” Hannibal gasped.

Yes, this felt insanely good. More than a dream should. But Will didn't complain.

He looked down at the other man with hunger. His gaze moved from Hannibal's eyes to his chest and to his hard dick. He wanted to worship every inch of Hannibal's body, wanted to taste his salty skin. Slowly Will moved his mouth upwards to suck at the other man's nipple. Hannibal's helpless gasp encouraged him to go on. Will kissed his flat stomach, his hips, sucked a mark at one thigh. And finally his mouth found his way to Hannibal's cock. At first he slowly licked from the shaft to the tip. Slowly closing his lips around it, earning a deep groan from Hannibal. He sucked lightly on the head of Hannibal's cock and pumped it with hard strokes.

“Ohhh!” Hannibal moaned. He arched his back and his hand found a way into Will's curls. Satisfied with how the older man responded to his actions he moved further taking more of Hannibal's member in his mouth and sucked hard. Bobbing his head up and down trying to take in as much of Hannibal as possible. It felt amazing. Of course there was no gag reflex, because this was a dream. Right?

“Will, wait...” Hannibal stopped him with hoarse voice between moans.

“I want to feel you inside me.”

Will's eyes widened with lust as he heard the other man's request. He let go of Hannibal's member with a last soft kiss against the tip befor moving at Hannibal's height to bring their lips together in a lustful kiss. Hannibal started to yank Wills boxers down, finally revealing the others dick. He wrapped his hands around Wills cock and started moving them up and down. Hannibal seemed to love the noise Will tried desperately to hold back. It only animated the older man to quicken his pace, receiving a loud moan from Will. But before Will could reach his climax Hannibal stopped his movements, earning a disapproving grunt from the younger man. Will decided to stop the teasing and quickly flipped Hannibal on his stomach so he was facing the pillow. Wills other hand found it's way into Hannibal's hair pulling it so he had better access to Hannibal's neck. He left wet kisses down Hannibal's neck, sucking there until he left a mark that would be visible for the next weeks. Without stopping his work Will reached for the nightstand to pull out the lube. Of course there should have been some preparation. But this was only a dream and Will was so close. He spread a big amount of lube on his cock and brought lined it up to push in slowly. Will didn't expect the overwhelming feeling of being inside the other man.

“Fuck, Hannibal. It never felt so good in my other dreams.” Will had to concentrate not to fall over the edge right now.

Hannibal looked back with a smirk on his face.

“You... you dreamed of me like this. Will, please move.” Hannibal tried to move his hips on his own to encourage the other man and Will started to thrust in. Slowly first but more and more erratic after a short while. But then all of a sudden Hannibal stopped him.

“I wanna see you, Will. Let me ride you”, he suggested breathlessly.

Quickly they changed places. Hannibal was on top of him, his hips moved up and down. Will knew he wouldn't last much longer. He looked at Hannibal's lust blown eyes, his beautiful body, his dripping hard cock. Will took the other mans cock in one hand and stroke it up and down synchronized to the rhythm of Hannibal's trusts.

Hannibal arched his back and let out a deep moan.

“Will.. I`m gonna...”

And seeing the other man come undone like this sent Will over the edge as well. With Hannibal's name on his lips he came inside the other man.

Hannibal collapsed next to Will. It took a while until they caught their breaths. Will cuddled close to Hannibal. He wanted to feel him close as long as possible.

"You're still not sure if this is a reality or a dream, am I right?" Hannibal wanted to know as he gently caressed Will's back.

"No."

"Does it matter? No one can tell with certainty whether they are really awake, Will. Many philosophers have already racked their brains about this problem. Isn't it more important whether it feels real?"

Will placed a kiss on the other man's chest and inhaled the typical smell of Hannibal. "It feels real," he replied, snuggling up closer to Hannibal. "It's just ..." Will tried to explain.

"You've had this dream many times," Hannibal completed the sentence.

Will nodded. "Yes, and every next morning I was alone again."

"Did it feel the same way this time?" Hannibal asked.

"No, this time it was more real. Everything was more intense. There were details this time, which were not there the other times. Details about ... about your body that I didn`t know. "

Hannibal smiled. "You're clever, Will. Of course it could also be that you have caught up with these details in a conversation with Alana or someone else and the mentioned details could have worked themselves into his subconscious. they are working with your brain in the dreams. But I promise you that this is not a dream and I will not leave you again."

Will thought of Alana's visit the afternoon before. It was true that they had talked about Hannibal. About Alana's relationship with Hannibal. Could it be that Alana had mentioned Hannibal's chest hair? Will couldn't remember.

"Now go to sleep, Will. Tomorrow will be an exhausting day."

Will straightened and looked questioningly into Hannibal's eyes.

"Why? What are we going to do?" He asked.

"We're planning your suicide," Hannibal replied calmly.

Will looked quite astonished. "What?"

"Not really, but it would be better if nobody will look for you and me in the future. So it's better if they think we both are dead." Hannibal explained objectively.

“Oh”, Will replied. “I commit suicide because of your death.”

Hannibal kissed Will's forehead. “Not for real. But let them think so.”

"Where are we going?"

"Wherever you want, Darling. But I would suggest we start in Argentina, then possibly Spain. Or maybe Scotland. Chiyoh can arrange everything. If you can imagine spending the rest of your life with me. You know what that would include." Hannibal looked at Will, expectantly and a little nervous.

Will smiled shyly. "That sounds like a marriages proposal," he said blushing hard.

"It is," Hannibal replied sincerely.

"Yes, of course I want that. With all it includes, Hannibal." Will recognized relief in the other man's eyes.

At this moment Will knew he wouldn't survive it this was a dream again. If he would wake up alone. He would never survive the pain and the loneliness.

 epilogue

Alana entered Jack's office. She had not been there since Will's death. Of course it wasn´t fair, but she blamed Jack for Will's suicide. He had borrowed Will's empathy. He introduced Hannibal to Will. All this would never have happened if Jack had listened to her. She knew she could never forgive him. Hannibal's death changed Will irreversibly. Everyone had noticed. But secretly she had always hoped that he would recover. She would never forget the last message from Will.

"Don`t be mad with me. I had to go. Please take care of the dogs."

Needless to say, Will's last concern was about his dogs. How else could it be? With a very bad feeling in her stomach she went to Wolf Trap with Margot, but when they arrived, Will had already disappeared. He had not taken anything with him. No clothing, no personal things or hygiene items, nor his passport or his mobile phone. Everything was still there. As if he would come back at any moment. But Alana knew immediately that he wouldn´t. Jack's team found Will's car on the beach. Close to where he was found after the fall. His shoes were on the beach. The trail led into the water, but it did not lead back. Without a doubt, Will had finished what fate had falsely failed to accomplish. The realization that she could not prevent Will's suicide still hurt her. Even after one year.

 Jack sat behind his desk as she entered the room without knocking.

"Alana, nice that you had the time to come," he greeted her. "Please take a seat."

"What do you want Jack? What is so important that you wanted me to come here?"

"It's about Will and Hannibal. I think ... " the FBI Agent began.

"Jack! You are obsessed. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are dead. For over a year. They are both drowned. You have to stop." Alana couldn't understand why Jack wouldn't let go.

"Alana, we have never found their corpses. None of them. They could still be alive. There were also ... "

"Jack no! I don't want to hear it!" Alana jumped up from her chair. A sharp pain passed through her hips. But she did not care. She took her cane and went towards the door.

"Alana, there have been murders that clearly match the two. It started in Argentina, then Spain, then in Scotland ... We must, we should ..." Jack rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"Jack." Alana gently tried. She took a few steps toward him. "Jack, you have a problem. You are obsessed with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. I think you need help. You have lost your wife, and the events a year ago were too much for us all."

"I know they are still alive, Alana. They are Murder Husbands, just like Freddy Lounds described it in her article back then." Jack's voice was nothing more than a murmur, but Alana could feel it. She sighed.

"I'm sorry Jack, but I don't believe it. Of course, I can't keep you from chasing after spirits, but I don't want to hear about it anymore. I let them go months ago."

She left him alone in his office. Of course, she was aware that there was a small chance that the two were still alive and Jack was right. She should have worried, Hannibal had promised to kill her. However, the thought did not fill her with fear, Will would never let anything happen to her. She knew that. The possibility that Will could have finally found his happiness with Hannibal filled her heart with joy.