#and hannibal is pulling his hair and giggling and rolling around in his bed like get a GRIP

[ghostdrinkssoup]

why do all the killers in s1 want to date hannibal so bad. he’s the hottest girl in school and they’re all down horrendously bad but he’s obsessed with will, the sad loser in the corner who doesn’t even notice him… what in the high school romcom is this

#there is so much dating imagery in this show #‘the killer is peacocking for the ripper’ okay ??? damn they all want him #tobias literally serenaded him. wrote him a love song and a visual poem #and what does will do? he just sits there and says the most deranged shit you ever heard #whispers the edgiest lines under his breath and darts his eyes #and hannibal is pulling his hair and giggling and rolling around in his bed like get a GRIP #hannibal is not god’s strongest soldier that’s the message of the show #for a cannibal he has horrifically poor taste in men #hannibal #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannigram #ghost speaks

[chibi-tofu]

Hearts In Boxes

A Very Hannibal Christmas AU

(Domestic Hannigram. Stealing each others clothes. Awful Christmas Puns. Doggos. Hannibal being a shit. Will being a flirt. An apology. SO MANY BOXES. Mainly fluff and a bit of smut.)

Hannibal stretches out Will's shirt and has to apologize. V cute.

Crop Top Hannibal.

(Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, kinda new to writing.)

-----

December.

Hannibal started noticing his winter wardrobe getting smaller bit by bit. Starting in mid October up until the 15th of December, The day he caught Will red handed! Will was making coffee and preparing the dogs’ food and seemed to be wearing a lavender button up. While it seemed slightly big on him, he looked stunning. The fact that he was wearing a silver chain and that the button up was only buttoned halfway distracted Hannibal from registering it was his shirt. The next day Will was wearing a dark navy sweater that he knew would get noticed. As it was the one Hannibal would store in his car for if it got below 45 degrees outside or if he got blood on his current outfit. He was wearing it paired with some ridiculous boxers with dog paw prints on the back while reading by the kitchen counter. Hannibal was amused and decided to play along as he stood in front of Will and put his hands on the counter on either side of him. “Darling, Is that my sweater? It looks rather familiar.” Will smiled and gestured to his torso “This? Is it? I had no idea.” then ran a hand up the side of his lover “Would you like it back? Now? I do have a busy day. Might have to pencil you in.”

Hannibal loved this game. Really, any game where he could make Will laugh. 

So began the Wardrobe Week War.

Hannibal stealing Will’s beanies, Will stealing Hannibal’s ties. Both stealing and hiding each others shoes, then keys, and even any pair of fuzzy socks. Most nights would end with kisses, a few with “Will, This shirt cost more than your entire wardrobe, I’m not going to rip it off you.” 

Hannibal decided to be a shit on the 21st and wear a shirt that was gifted to Will last Christmas. An ugly Christmas sweater shirt that read “Bah Hum-Pug” with pugs running across the bottom of the shirt. It just barely fit his boyfriend, rising up to show a bit of his stomach when he lifted his arms. So when the blonde stretched this shirt onto his torso he expected Will to laugh and retaliate. Will cocked his head and gave a tame half smile then sighed “You’re a dork. What are we making for dinner?” Not much of a reaction, this was strange but he decided not to bombard him with questions. “I was thinking prosciutto roses on watermelon since the two bottles of Batard-Montrachet were delivered yesterday.” Will pouted a bit “Not the most festive, is it?” Hannibal made a slight twirl with his hand as he boasted “I promise you it will taste incredibly festive, he was dressed as Santa after all.” Will shook his head, kissed Hannibal’s cheek, then stood up “Change and meet me in the kitchen, or you’ll have to fight me for the oven.”  

December 23rd.   

Hannibal was busy trying to find a whisk so he could finish the sugar cookie dough as Will sat at the bar and mixed icing colors. Hannibal asked him if he had seen the whisk twice but his beloved seemed to be stuck in an introspective state. He softly rubbed Wills back as he asked “Feeling okay? There’s something lonesome about you, pet.” Will looked tired, bags under his eyes and his hair slightly mussed. He made a small hum in response and continued mixing the food coloring into the icing. Hannibal dipped his finger into one of the small icing bowls and swiped the tip of Will's nose. Will gasped and did the same with a smirk. Hannibal could still feel how shutdown his lover was and decided he’d talk to him before bed. 

Hannibal leaned against the bathroom door frame and looked at will in the mirror “So...Is the silent treatment your solution, Will?” He questioned while undoing his tie. Will was silent for a few beats before replying. “No, stealing all of your damn ties and hiding them around the house is my solution. I just happen to be brushing my teeth and deep in thought about how to kick your ass.” Will smirked and resumed brushing his teeth as his lover continued undressing. “You know, it was only one shirt. I’m sure you’ll steal one of mine as a replacement.” Hannibal walked up behind him and slowly wrapped his arms around his partners frame. “Hannibal. Dear. Darling. You stretched my shirt into a crop top. It’s rude. If I recall you have a saying about those who are rude.” He smirked and squeezed Will ever so slightly in his arms then lowering his voice stated “Are you planning to eat me, Will?” “Not with utensils.” Will teased. He spit then swished with mouthwash before turning around in Hannibal’s arms. “I’m alright, just tired...and you ruined one of my favorite shirts.” he teased “I just need to sleep it off.” he pulled Hannibal into a hug and felt his boyfriend kiss his neck. A muffled “Come to bed my sweet.” was the last full sentence uttered before they shuffled off to their bed.  

December 24th.

As Hannibal closed the oven after checking on his sugar cookies he heard a sigh. He could barely hide his smile for how his partner in crime was pouting around the apartment. The brunette was stringing the Christmas lights around the tree and huffing every few minutes. He watched as Will disappeared behind the tree and decided to give him some Christmas spirit. He quietly padded to their room while six wagging tails followed him, nearly blowing his cover. After a few minutes of putting together his surprise he collected two items from the bedroom closet then slid into the kitchen. Grabbing two sugar cookies from his first batch, the ones with snowmen on them, he led his troop of fuzzy step children into the family room.

As Will was hanging Hannibal’s ties around the tree he paused when presented with six fuzzy children wearing velvet red collars with little silver bells attached to them. “It seems you have resting Grinch face Will.” The shorter man grimaced and chuckled “Where did you even hear that?” Seeing that his plan is starting to work the blonde stepped a bit closer with his hands behind his back. “The younger detectives use slang around crime scenes. Possibly inappropriate but incredibly entertaining. I’ve also heard the term Velvet Daddy.” Will laughed out of surprise “Please NEVER say that again. Is this you apologizing?” Hannibal sheepishly took another step forward and softly put antlers attached to a headband onto Will’s head. “This is only the first part, the next piece of my apology comes tomorrow. But I thought you might indulge me and our children?” He pulled out his phone  “Take a Christmas card worthy photo with us?” He pulled Will in close and softly kissed his cheeks. “I could put a splatter of blood on our sweaters just for fun.” Will whispered just inches from the blondes lips. “A beautiful idea darling, but where would we get the blood?” Words could no longer be heard over their heartbeats becoming collectively louder. They kissed softly, Hannibal’s face held in Will's hands, while his hands were around the shorter mans back grabbing his shirt with a bit of urgency. 

A few jingles and an adorably loud whiny yawn made them laugh into the kiss. They let go of each other and got ready for the pictures, Hannibal put on a matching set of antlers, and Will got the picture timer set up then grabbed a few dog treats. They ended up laying on their stomachs on the floor with the dogs, the phone took three quick photos. In the first one they were all smiling at the camera while the two men held hands and the second was the same but now the men were looking at each other preparing for chaos. Right before the third was taken Will smiled, counted to three, and said “Go!”. They giggled when they saw the last photo, The children were looking up and even some mid jump as they scrambled to catch the treats the men threw into the air. 

“One more, just you and me?” Will rolled his eyes but held the camera up and was about to snap the picture when his lover shoved a sugar cookie into his mouth. His look of surprise deemed adorable next to Hannibal’s look of pure love and joy in a smile as he held one with a bite already taken out of it up next to him.  

December 25th.

Hannibal was the first to stir as Will unconsciously squeezed his hand. He stared at his person for a bit, just admiring how sweet and relaxed he looked as he slept. He rolled onto his stomach and partly onto Will. He started kissing up Will's side and then his chest, he paused briefly as a hand gently ran through his hair. “Good Morning. Did you sleep well?” Will raised an eyebrow as he remembered just how well the apology wound up going last night “Good Morning, Velvet Daddy.”  he giggled and pulled Hannibal up to kiss him “Yes I slept well, did you?” Hannibal whispered “I slept well, but call me Daddy again and I’ll make sure this night is sleepless.” Will bit Hannibal’s lip “Is that a threat or a promise?” Hannibal got inches from Will’s lips then put his hand around his throat. “Oh darling, It’s the most fun when it’s both.”

About an hour and a half later the two appeared downstairs to make breakfast. Will made coffee as Hannibal grabbed a Labrador sized present “I want you to open this one before we cook.” Will rolled his eyes lovingly “Before food, Hm? Must be good.” He shook it lightly then tore through the shinny red wrapping and opened the box to revel...another box wrapped in the same red wrapping paper. Will tilted his head at his lover but Hannibal just sipped his coffee with a big grin. He picked up the next box and tore the paper again to revel...yet another box. He could since where this was going but repeated the steps again to revel...another. fucking. box. This continued for about fifteen more boxes and will had now been doing this for ten minutes. The boxes were now medium small and he could hold them in both hands. He suspected there were about seven boxes left. He was off by two. 

It had now been fifteen minutes. By this point Will had chugged a cup and a half of coffee, was now sitting on the couch next to Hannibal, and the dogs had begun playing in the mountain of wrapping paper. He had finally reached the last box, wrapped in black matte paper with a metallic silver tag. Will beamed as he read the tag “Beloved.” and the noticed a small black heart at the end that was slightly smudged. He carefully unwrapped and opened the box. Sitting in a deep red velvet pocket was a beautiful pocket knife, the handle made of bone. Engraved on one side of the blade was Will and other side Hannibal . Will teared up a bit and chuckled as he quipped “If you eat me on Christmas, Who will tell the dogs you miss them when you’re at work?” Hannibal put the knife back in the box on the table then took Wills face in his hands “I’m not going to eat you Will, Well not with utensils anyway.” Will snorted as Hannibal smirked. “Our names are on both sides to symbolize we are two sides of the same coin, or knife in this case. We are the same. You are my Beloved.” 

Will kissed him hard and pulled him close. His nails dug into Hannibal’s sides claiming him as hard as the kiss. “Beloved, Huh? “ Hannibal nodded “Is it as good as Velvet Daddy?” Will laughed hard “PLEASE stop saying that.” “Maybe after Christmas?” Will blew out a puff of air “Finnee. Who gave you the box full of boxes idea?” Hannibal shook his head and scoffed “You’d kill them and me.” Will picked up the pocket knife and put the tip gently against Hannibal’s chest. “Would you like to go first?” Hannibal kissed him deeply and grabbed the knife

 “Where would the fun be in that?”

Happy Holidays Fanibals.               

#hannibal #Hannibal #hannigram #hannigram christmas #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #Christmas #Christmas fic #hannibal au #eat the rude #murder husbands #mlm fic #hannigram fluff

[rawiswhore]

Triple H, Shawn Michaels x Fem Reader- "I Love Men"

December of 1997 would be a transitional time for the World Wrestling Federation.

During that month in that year, WWF CEO Vince McMahon made a speech ushering in a new era of the WWF, an era of antiheroes and edgier content, this era would be known as the Attitude era.

The era that would save the WWF from going out of business, be even more popular than the WWF in the 80's, and introduce us to some of the most iconic wrestling stars of the past 25 years.

This new era was also not like the WWF people were used to in the 1980's and even the 1990's.

No, this new era was a lot edgier, more violent, more oversexualized, and had some shock value.

What was once a kid friendly company that seemed like a live action Saturday morning cartoon and even had its own Saturday morning cartoon during the mid 1980's now wasn't something most parents would want their kids watching.

There were signs the Attitude era was coming about even before Vince McMahon made that speech that ushered in this new era, with Stone Cold Steve Austin being a middle finger throwing brawler, Mankind being a Hannibal Lector-esque psychopath, Brian Pillman pulling a gun out on Stone Cold and turning Goldust's wife into his personal sex slave, Kane being a horror movie villain whose face was burned during his childhood, Sable shedding a potato sack to reveal herself in a bikini that left almost nothing to the imagination and D Generation X being rebellious punks that spraypainted racist graffiti on black wrestler's locker room walls, sticking the Canadian flag up their noses and Triple H making jokes about his penis.

Some have even said the Attitude era began before Vince McMahon made that notorious speech ushering in this new era.

And you were one of the signs the Attitude era was coming about soon.

You were once Hunter Hearst Helmsley's elegantly dressed valet in evening gowns and silky opera gloves, who never said or did anything controversial or shocking.

However, sometimes in 1997, you were caught making out with Hunter in the back of a limo on "Monday Night Raw" as well as looking like you and Hunter were going to get busy as they say, but that was tame in comparison.

By the end of 1997, you ripped off an evening gown the audience was used to you wearing to reveal yourself wearing a skimpier, hooker-like outfit with a miniskirt and tube top, as well as did some moments like bending down and pretending to drop a makeup compact you were holding while you stuck your ass up in the air while Triple H, Shawn Michaels and the New Age Outlaws looked under your skirt and made gestures with their index fingers like they wanted to fingerbang you.

At the end of 1997, you cut a rather seductive and sexy wrestling promo that would lead to the character you'll always be remembered for playing in the WWF/E: a boy-crazy, seductive, slutty nymphomaniac with histrionic personality disorder that seduced wrestlers you thought were sexy.

Basically like a female Val Venis or a wrestling version of Madonna in the early 90's.

This wrestling promo started off by filming your leg covered in a silky red blanket as the camera slowly panned up your body while slow, jazzy music was playing in the background, the camera halting at filming up your body once it reached to you and Triple H's heads.

You and Triple H were snuggling in bed together right next to each other, you were curled up right next to him.

Triple H was shirtless and had his long, flowing blond locks hanging down, not tied with a little ponytail in the back or little braids, and one of his huge arms was wrapped behind you.

You were stark naked under that blanket, but the blanket was covering your nude body below your shoulders.

One of your hands, in particular the tip of your index finger, was horizontally running up and down his bare chest while he was smiling and you were looking at him, grinning from ear to ear.

Your eyes then panned to the camera, introducing yourself to the audience, your voice sounding seductive and sexy, like a phone sex girl.

This promo sounds like and looks more like a phone sex hotline commercial rather than a wrestling promo.

"I lovemen" you gushed, your eyes rolling to the top of your head when you enunciated the word "love".

"Men's bodies produce testosterone; which increase their libido" you explained while the tip of your index finger drew circles on one of Triple H's pecs. "As well as muscle and strength"

Your hands moved to Triple H's massive biceps and squeezed on both of them when you added how testosterone increases muscle and strength.

Though, there's something else that increased Triple H's arms and it ain't testosterone.

Or weightlifting.

You then rolled over, only for the camera to show that you weren't alone in this bed, and lying right next to you was Shawn Michaels.

Shawn, too, was shirtless, and his long brown hair was hanging down, he barely had any facial hair on his face.

The silky blanket was still covering your breasts as well as your naked body.

You snuggled yourself up next to show, nudging him, and one of your hands caressed up and down the middle of his chest, where his chest hair is.

He grinned while you stroked his chest, his chest hair was in between your fingers.

"Some men have chest hair" you explained, "That's not just a sign of masculinity; but perfect to run your fingers through".

The tip of your index finger drew circles in the middle of Shawn's hairy chest while you said that, his chest hair rolling and curling around the tip of your finger, but not enough for his chest hair to wrap around a tight grip on top.

'Tis a shame Scott Hall a.k.a. Razor Ramon is over in WCW (and you don't just mean over in wrestling lingo as something the audience really enjoys), because his chest hair is iconic, and he probably would love this promo.

Scratch that, he would.

Jeff Hardy could've been in this promo as well considering he had chest hair, even back then.

You then rolled your body over and crawled over the silky bed sheets, to where Triple H's genitals are.

When you crawled, you were trying not to show your bare naked breasts, but the tops of your arms were blocking your nipples from being shown.

Your face and head were close to Trips' crotch, covered and shielded by that silky blanket you were sharing with him, you stopped crawling once you were lying right next to his crotch.

"But my favorite thing about men" you started "Is their manhood"

You lifted one of your hands and placed the pad of your index finger over where Triple H's cock is, horizontally running that finger up and down.

Triple H actually was naked in this promo and he and Shawn had massive, blatant boners hiding under those bedsheets for you.

You can see Triple H's erection (or at least a prosthetic) poking and protruding through the silky bed sheets.

Plus, Triple H and Shawn Michaels in general were meant to have erections during this promo considering they play such naughty scamps in the WWF.

"They've got something down there that's hot, tender and juicy" you expressed while you ran your index finger horizontally up and down Triple H's shaft "That's perfect to suck on"

Triple H's hands moved above his crotch where they crossed an "x" shape at the wrist when you said "suck on", your lips grinned and smiled a naughty shit eating grin without showing your teeth.

"And testosterone is also responsible in producing something" you added "That I love as much as I love men"

No, you don't mean pee or worse, poo, because women poo and pee as well.

You mean cum.

Jizz.

Sperm.

Semen.

Spunk.

Skeet.

When you referenced how testosterone produces something you love as much as men, your fingers grabbed onto Triple H's scrotum covered by a blanket and gently squeezed them.

Your finger was stroking up and down Triple H's penis, but not Shawn Michaels'?

And you're grabbing Triple H's package but not Shawn's?

Ah well, Shawn Michaels took his pants off when he was playing strip poker, but Triple H didn't take his pants off.

And Triple H used to always crack dick jokes but Shawn Michaels didn't, even though women in the audience would shriek like maniacs hearing that.

Triple H in 1997 didn't piss you off as much as Shawn did backstage, though Shawn is sexier than Triple H.

"C'mon boys" you said, your eyes looking at Triple H, "I'm sick of talking"

Triple H and Shawn looked at each other and smiled, where you crawled back into bed with them and one of Trips and Shawn's hands grabbed the covers and pulled them over your ass, shielding your ass from being shown on television, and you slid under the covers, Triple H wrapping one of his huge arms around you and pulling you closer to him while Shawn snuggled up right next to you.

You giggled like a schoolgirl and smiled from ear to ear while Triple H looked like he was leaning his lips into yours.

You sounded like phone sex girl all throughout this promo, which was the intention of it.

Jerry Lawler must be drooling uncontrollably watching this promo, but he can go fuck himself.

Despite that the Attitude and Ruthless Aggression eras are the 2 most beloved WWF/E eras ever, one thing about those eras that hasn't aged well and has faced criticism is that most of the female roster were treated as sex objects, not as wrestlers.

Even women who were wrestlers like Ivory and Jacqueline were turned into sex objects sometimes.

But your wrestling promo sexually objectifies men and treats them as sex objects; this promo was you gushing over how you love men, but not for their personalities, but when they produce testosterone and what testosterone leads to.

Y'know, women have breasts you can suck on, squeeze and play with, and pussies you can eat, finger and fuck.

_____________________________________________________________

I originally planned on typing a fanfic where the fem reader is a ringrat that Hunter Hearst Helmsley introduces to other wrestlers, and eventually the fem reader gets gangbanged by the likes of Hunter, Razor Ramon, Shawn Michaels, Marty Jannetty, Bret Hart, Davey Boy Smith and a wrestler named Avatar (who would later on play Al Snow).

But...I've been afraid this fanfic will be too similar to the one where the fem reader joins the WWF and she gets gangbanged by Hunter, Shawn, Brian Pillman, the New Rockers, etc.

#triple h #shawn michaels #d generation x #dx #1997 #90s #wwf #attitude era #wwf attitude #fanfiction

[aliypop]

All Roads Lead To Nowhere

Wordcount: 2,757

Character Count: 15,189

A/N: This is part 7 to Empatia I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warning: Usual Hannibal tendancies 

"Sorry, i'm bleeding on your couch," Abigail grunted as she tried to ease herself in a more comfortable position. Hannibal pressed the gauze pad over her wound, "What was that... I couldn't hear you over the gaping hole in your chest," he looked at the young woman. While holding his hand out for his assistant to give him his surgical needle and thread, he couldn't help but wonder how his wounded deer found its way home. Shanel, on the other hand, watched his hands move, guiding the needle and thread gracefully against the wound area. It was almost like cooking to him a second nature in the form of many talents. 

"What were you doing out there.." Shanel asked in a motherly type of tone.  Watching the way Abigail had reacted almost brought back memories from her upbringing when she would try to "escape" Christoper.

 "I was trying to outrun my past.." she looked up at the other woman hoping she would understand what she meant by her phrasing. Shanel gave her a nod and a teacup, "You'll need it, to take your mind off that troublesome past a bit.." she smiled, walking back upstairs. Hannibal looked back at her then at Abigail as he felt that for one moment in his life, he had everything he could have asked for, but sometimes happiness came with a price that not everyone was ready to pay.

 As the night got darker, the silence in the room became thicker. One with Shanel pondering on how to lean the evidence on Chilton, and two how to set Will free and back to his habitat, 

Hannibal, who had agreed to take Will's place for the remainder of his cases, laid there thinking as to how he could get away with all of his beautiful masterpieces, as he pulled Shanel closer towards his person. 

"How would you like to-"

"No." Shanel turned to look at the maroon eyed killer.

"No?" he asked, shocked that she even answered before he finished asking.

"Murder is not on tomorrow's agenda, Lecter.."  she laughed, her hand dangling off the bed.

"It's not on anyone's my pet.." he laughed, kissing her nose.

"Oh no, it's on mine, just not until Thursday." she half-heartedly joked, cuddling deep into the warmth of his skin, taking in his fresh scent of clean linen with a hint of lemon. "Why Thursday?" he asked, taking her hand to his lips, giving it a nice " passionate" nip." If you must know.." she watched the way his lips parted, "Hey, if you're planning to eat me at least make me into a nice alfredo," 

she laughed, seeing his eyes go into complete shock, 

He had never met a woman so full of life and dark humor that he would kill for except for maybe his aunt, who he hadn't heard from in years. "Does your mother know about your agenda." he gave her a soft, tired laugh.

"Good night Hannibal.." she rolled over, giggling at him.

"There's food in the refrigerator, books in the study, of course, in any case of an emergency-"

"Call you or Hannibal," Abigail said, her hands behind her back, watching Shanel pick up her keys from the kitchen counter, "And if we don't answer?" she paused to look at the teenager, 

"Code butterfly," she smirked.

"That's my girl." Shanel smiled, kissing her forehead while walking out the door. 

When she entered her office, she saw two things. One was Carl flirting, and the other was the tattle crime magazine on her desk. "WHO LET LOUNDS IN!" her voice nearly booming through the halls of the building. Susana ducked down, hearing the rage in her voice. Animalistic brown eyes made their way to the younger woman while the room around them was deathly still, "I trusted you.." 

"You can't blame me for your mistake." Susana gave a small chuckle while Carl turned away, "And besides, are you not Will's love toy-" Shanel grabbed her throat, hearing the sweet sound of life mangled in beautiful sounds of struggling,

 "I know where you live.. and I'll kill you if you speak to me again like that.." Shanel laughed, whispering in her ear, taking a nice lick of her ear, "Good, you're scared of me." she heard the other woman whimper under her like a hurt dog. "Y-you're hurting me.." she felt her let go. Although Shanel's day was a bit rough, it wasn't as bad as Hannibals. Playing Will Graham was becoming a challenge, so many ingredients for a  presented in front of him yet so little time to sneak away and take a prize for himself in front of him was a beautifully preserved body apart of a feast for sight. Yet he would do anything to get his hands on it to take a bite of the juicy flesh covered in resin. The aroma was practically killing him to fight it as he dwelled into the scent. Jack stood behind him, watching the way he observed the body almost like it was art.  "Well, did you find anything doctor.," he asked as Hannibal looked behind himself, 

" Preserved while still alive..." he examed some more of the body, "A rare case that can happen," he asked, watching the way Jack looked it over. Hannibal was pleased, to say the least, that he was blending in so quickly. Back in the office, however,  Shanel had quite the news to tell Hannibal about mostly because her receptionist had now gone missing. Which was something Hannibal would have found exciting, but as she saw it, he was busy.  

"Well... this is lovely.." Abigail stood behind the two adults, a butterfly knife in hand just in case she had to kill them both, "Simonetta would have been so proud.." the older woman who resembled Shanel whispered, looking at the portraits on the wall. Next to the woman was a man, he had short brown hair and glasses, 

"Do you think she'll be surprised.."  he asked, watching the way his lover looked him, "Amore, we are her surprise." she kissed him on the cheek. Abigail crept closer, trying to take a slash at the couple.

Abigail wasn't quick enough as she felt the pain surge into her arm. "I wouldn't do that piccola ragazza." he laughed, with a dark expression on his face. As the door creaked open, he leaned in closer, "Let us pretend you didn't try to kill me." he winked, watching her nod. 

Shanel and Hannibal walked through the door exchanging, their interesting days as she took off her suit jacket, not noticing how quiet the house was around her while on the other hand, Hannibal could sense that someone was there the scent of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue went past his nose, 

"Rosalina.," he whispered to himself, hearing the sound of her voice, he hadn't seen her in years though he didn't know that his dinner exhibition had made news to Italy. Sitting in the living room was Shanel, who had made it her duty to relax first before she had gotten all dressed up for the occasion. But sneaking up behind her was someone that she knew very well. The footsteps behind her were silent, and his breathing was non- existent. Before she could turn around and he could plan his attack, she grabbed him into a hug filled with laughter and love. "Il mio piccolo guastafeste!" he nearly squeezed the woman. Shanel chuckled, shaking her head, "I am not a trouble starter, Milo." Hannibal, on the other hand, was stuck with Rosalina.

 "Taking care of my Shanel.." she asked, holding him by the arm. 

"She is my first concern, your highness." he turned to look at her, hist face aglow at the woman who once made him feel like home in his times in Italy.  "You don't have to call me that here," she smirked, taking in his more mature features.  Hannibal couldn't help but laugh at the way she looked at him. Turning his head, he could hear the cold metal clanking of swords in the living room and the sounds of grunts and laughter, "Ah, they've picked up where they left off.." she gestured for him to walk in.  Abigail,  who was keeping track of their score, looked over at Hannibal like a concerned child looks at their parents. 

"Like daughter like father.." Rosalina smiled, not noticing what she had just let slip from her mouth. Shanel looked over at her mother in disbelief. "Like who.," she asked, hoping she didn't hear the phrase correctly. In her mind, it didn't make sense for Milo to be the big F word in her life. It wasn't possible, and she refused to believe that her mother's butler was her dad, but if he were, he would have some explaining to do, like sitting there when her life was slowly leaving her, or sending her away to boarding school when she would have been home, let alone the wards and hospitals. 

"I have so much to do... Hannibal come with?" she ushered upstairs. 

"Shanel, wait!" Milo said, watching her slowly walk out his life again.

Hannibal sighed, watching as she threw another knife, this time catching it. He knew that at times she was one to lash out in anger, and luckily it was something he was good at, "You're taking this a bit hard, Ms. Mahone, what to do we do when we are angry." seeing the look of a shark smelling blood, he realized that his old tricks would no longer work. "Lets, talk this out perhaps." he ushered for her to sit on the bed. She looked up at him playing with her fingers, shaking her leg the things she used to do when they had first started therapy. 

"Well, I was thinking about us.." She got behind him, taking her pearl necklace from behind him.

"Changing the subject, are we.." he nodded, knowing that in time she would take it out on one of their victims. " No.." she looked away from and then back. "Yes..but the point is.." Hannibal sighed, growing impatience with her struggling. Though he couldn't say, he couldn't relate to it.

"DON'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING!" she burst out, hands almost hitting his chest. Hannibal grabbed her wrist, a blank expression on his face watching the way she acted like a spoiled child, not getting her way. She had been excusably rude in the past, but this was going to be his last straw. As she tried to fight, she felt a sharp prick in her thigh.

"Shanel... dove sei.. where are you?" A familiar voice said.  Sat in the middle of the woods was Shanel, covered in blood. Butterflies flew past her, but each one was different.  "Where am I?" she asked, looking towards the sound of familiar footsteps. A hand covered her lips as another one grabbed her waist. As the grasp got tighter, she felt as if they'd rip her in two. Blood began to drip down her dress as she watched from afar two creatures feasting on what looked like her eight-year-old body. Standing there was a Wendigo and a Butterfly Moth creature eating away her eyeballs. 

"Help me! don't let them take me away HEL-"

Shanel jolted out the bed, her mouth dry and eyes wide. Her breathy was unsteady, and she knew why. "Vistaril.. nice.." she began getting drossy again as her head hit the pillow and into a slow thickness of blood. 

" Must I denounce myself as a monster while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you?" the familiar voice said, blood gushing into her lungs and out her mouth. In her hair even was blood but by her feet was the body of Albert and Christopher. Hannibal, who looked at her stone-cold, had in his hand a slaughter knife while the other reached out to grab her. "Well, must I... " he  asked, watching her  reach for the knife, 

" If I kill the rude. While another detests the righteous, what will you have left in my pantheon," he asked.

"The wicked.."

Another prick of pain hit her as she stood up, deep scars on her arm, as she laid there a bit. " Parasomnia.," he mumbled, realizing why she had has tended to squirm around whenever he'd leave her side while sleeping. "Someones up.."  he smiled, "And in time for dinner.," he added, handing her dress over to her. Though something confusing was going on in his heart every time he watched her struggle, it was a pain that made him want to hold her tell her everything would be alright, much like he wish he could with his sister Misha a stinging pain in his arm when it rains. Looking down at his feet, he saw trails of blood mostly from Shanel. Taking his finger to get a taste, he had noticed something different about the blood "Low in iron.. " he smiled to himself, "Perhaps I should fix things.." he then made his way into the bathroom. 

"Why did you do.." 

"To relax you, you went into hysterics  .." he walked closer towards her watching her body language, "It's nar-"

"I know what it is.. you wouldn't be the first to inject me." she rolled her eyes, feeling insecure about her response, "You would know that..." she got dressed, her eyes looking down and away from his. "I was happy once as a kid.. you know I wasn't always a psicopatica." she turned her back towards him, and he felt that pain again, but this time in his heart. The trust he had built was fading. He walked closer towards her trying to hold her hand.

"GET away from me!" she pushed him aside.

"I can't do that." he looked into her brown eyes seeing something he had never seen before reflecting at him. "And why can't you."

" Sometimes, I think of the sun and moon as lovers who rarely meet. Always chase and almost always miss one another." he smiled, helping her zip her dress,

 " But once in a while, they do catch up, and they kiss." he looked at her reflection. "And the world stands in awe of their eclipse." his voice went hoarse while his heart stung in a long-forgotten pain called love. Shanel turned to look at him catching his eyes for her own. She could see it in his eyes that cupid hit him in his murderous heart. " Say it.." she nearly whimpered, her eyes on his lips. 

"I love-"

"Dad... um, Mr. Lecter, the guests are arriving," Abigail mentioned. 

"We'll finish this later?" he looked over at Shanel, who gave him a sigh and a nod.

 Everyone who was anyone showed up at the luxurious dinner party. There wasn't a soul in there that Shanel didn't know except, of course, her parents. She and Hannibal had been socializing all night. It seemed like forever since she had even sat down. That, of course, was until Hannibal had gestured for everyone to migrate like birds to his set to theme beautifully Greek pantheon dining room. Shanel giggled a bit watching, as she noticed the details in Hannibal's food decor of pomegranates, hers having six seeds next to it. "Some say that this very feast is what Persephone didn't eat upon," Hannibal said, standing behind Shanel, his pitch-black suit matching her soft spring pink dress traced with roses in the fabric.

" The story of Hades and Persephone is one of the most well-known love stories in Greek mythology." he pulled out Shanel's chair, waiting for her to sit. "Hades, was known for rarely ever leaving the underworld," he laughed a bit. "But one of the few times he did, he came across Persephone, and he fell instantly in love." Hannibal kissed Shanel on the forehead, his hand resting on her shoulder. "  But Demeter would never allow her daughter to marry the god of the underworld." he then looked at Rosalina and Milo. 

"With each pomegranate seed, I proclaim my love to you." he smiled, holding out a box kneeling on one leg, "With this ring, I confess my dying need to l'amore della mia vita." he kissed her hand. 

"What do you choose, my pet," he asked.

Shanel looked around, her heart fluttering with many emotions eyes staring her down. Her mother and apparent father both looked at her as she looked at the ring. She could hear the mumbling going on from her mother.

"Yes."

#hannibal x oc #Hannibal Lector #nbc hannibal #shanel mahone #New Chapter #new #fanfiction #fandom

[randomwordprompts]

15: “ Don’t die on me– Please. ”47: “ You’re cute when you’re angry. ”132: “ I haven’t slept in four days… ”136: “Give me back my phone! ”172: “ The food looks great but.. There’s something much more delicious i’d like to eat right now. ”

I love can’t stand you! All these damn prompts that I’m not skilled enough to write into one story!! Imma do my best with these though lol. Prompts will be in bold italics.

Amira didn’t mind being short. In fact, she embraced it. But there were times…

“X!”

She wished was a little bit taller.

“Xavier Christian!!”

Now was one of those times. Xavier was holding her phone over his head, all 6’2 of his height towering over her with ease with a smug grin on his face. Amira, for all her credit, was hopping up and down as if that would make up for the foot of height between them. Each time she bounced her little body against his it seemed that his smile grew just a bit wider.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“X, give me back my phone!”

Xavier simply chuckled and leaned down to kiss her pouting lip, something that made Amira pull the offending body part away. She grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him back to her for another kiss, making him groan in surprise. Amira deepened the kiss and looped an arm around his neck, suckling at his bottom lip just the way he liked while she pressed her frame against his. On pure reflex Xavier brought his arms to her waist, eyes closing as the love of his life let out a soft moan into their kiss. Before he could process where her free hand was, Amira snatched her phone and broke the kiss, running off into their house with a loud cackle.

Amira came back to the hospital after everyone went back to the house, feeling an odd need to see her father again before she went home. There was a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she brushed it off as worry. What she saw when she arrived at the suite only proved her gut right. Hannibal’s doctors surrounded him on the bed, grim looks on their faces. The patient in question was looking fairly disheveled, his chest exposed as a tech rolled a defibrillator out of the room. He was taking shallow breaths, but anyone could see he wouldn’t last longer than another day. Just when they were going to have someone contact the family they saw Amira standing at the door.

“I’m sorry Ms. Lector but we’ve done all we can do. It would be best to call the rest of your family so that everyone can say their goodbyes.”

With that Amira was left with her father, calling her mother and telling her what happened. She sat at her father’s side, taking his hand and kissing it lightly before she laid her head on his chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart.

“You can’t leave us yet, you know. You have to see us do all that we said we’d do. Fran’s gonna open their boutique, Jon’s gonna design video game software, and I’m gonna help people with my writing. You’ve always encouraged us to do what we love, so you have to be here to see us do it...”

She sniffled as she let her tears fall, remembering the countless times she’d laid her head on that very spot while her father ran his hand over her head before wiping away tears of discouragement, anger, and hurt.

“Don’t die on me – Please.”

Amira felt her chest tighten as Hannibal’s heartbeat slowed to a complete stop just as her family arrived, her body shaking with sobs as Diana pulled her away with tears in her own eyes, hugging the young woman tightly.

The Lector Household was silent for the first time in years, a dark aura over the home. Diana, Pauline, and Elisha were handling the memorial arrangements along with Will. Francois was in charge of contacting other family members and friends to notify them as well as let them know when the memorial would be, Jonathan was out finding a venue that would be intimate enough but still fit the people that would undoubtedly come to pay their respects. Amira was supposed to be with Jonathan, but she was currently in the kitchen cleaning. She’d been going through different methods to distract herself from the grief eating away her and this was the most recent. The first was cooking, the second throwing herself into her writing, third was rearranging furniture, and now she was cleaning everything in sight.

Just when she was preparing to grab the mop for the floor a wall of a body appeared in front of her, blocking her way. She tried to move Xavier and get around him but he wasn’t having it. His face held badly concealed anger mixed with hurt and worry. He tried to speak to her but she didn’t even look at him.

“Amira, what the hell have you been doing?!”

“Can you please move, I need to finish cleaning.”

“I’m not moving until you talk to me. You can’t just shut me out and igno-”

“I haven’t slept in four days...I can’t eat...why’d he have to die, X?”

She finally looked up at him and when she did his own heart broke. Her eyes seemed as red as her hair that sat in a messy pineapple on top of her head and there were visible bags under her eyes. Xavier sighed and pulled her to his chest, the sound of her cries bringing tears to his own eyes and down his cheeks. After standing there for some time he picked her up and went to her room, holding her in his arms until they both drifted to sleep.

Amira felt a swell of pride when she looked over the dining room table of the food she prepared for the night. She’d made Xavier’s favorite meal, parmesan-crusted chicken thighs and vegetable stirfry, along with a red velvet cheesecake for dessert. Since they didn’t do alcohol she had a bottle of sparkling cider in the fridge keeping cold and two champagne flutes sitting on the table along with candles.

Xavier came home from work just as his fiance had finished loading the used pans into the dishwasher, moving the plates from the warmer to the table. He was greeted with a kiss and a smile along with the smell of her cooking wafting through the air, chuckling as she pulled him into the dining room to see the fruits of her labor. Bringing an arm around her waist he ghosted his lips over hers before finally speaking.

“The food looks great but... There’s something much more delicious I’d like to eat right now.”

Amira rolled her eyes playfully but tugged his bottom lip between her teeth for a moment.

“Well, we can always heat the food back up later.”

With those words Xavier tossed her plush body over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom, the sound of her giggles making him grin.

[victorineb]

Alana Finds Out: Twelfth Night

The lovely @ishxallxgood​ suggested that it would be entertaining if Alana discovered a suspiciously Will-like ornament (as featured top right of the banner above) amongst Hannibal’s Christmas decorations. Thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3.

Alana glared at him. His stupid curls. His ridiculous puppy eyes. His perky little nipples. And as for those wings! Tacky as hell.

Alana was standing in Hannibal’s study, into which she had wandered after finishing stripping the ridiculously over-antlered tree in his foyer. She’d come over to help him dismantle his extensive Christmas decorations, Hannibal having insisted that they must come down before Twelfth Night. Alana wasn’t sure of the punishment for failing to meet this deadline (possibly Santa returned to take back all your presents for retroactive naughtiness) but Hannibal had promised lunch as reward, and she thought there was a good chance she could lure him into bed later, so she hadn’t hesitated to get in her car.

Now, as she held a rather large and completely tasteless ornament that bore an unmistakeable resemblance to one Will Graham (or at least a sparkly, half-naked, fairy-winged version of him) she was beginning to regret it.

She’d been surprised to find any decorations in here at all – it wasn’t a room guests were permitted to enter, and Hannibal seemed to keep the lights and ornaments to the public areas of his house. And the Will-fairy did seem so completely out of place, sitting atop the mantelpiece, that Alana had thought at first that someone must have left it as a prank. But as she looked closer, she could see that not only had it been placed with care, a space clearly made for it, but that it was perfectly positioned so that it could be seen by the person seated behind the desk. And as soon as she was hit by the image of Hannibal gazing moonily at this fantasy version of Will, she realised that it was the same look he always had on his face when talking to Will. Or looking at Will. Or occupying the same general space as Will.

Dammit.

Even after Will had tried to have him killed, it had been that same look: the twinkle in his eyes, the softness around them, the little smile at the corners of his mouth. Hannibal was utterly smitten, and pining away so earnestly he’d ignored his every aesthetic impulse and spent actual money on this hideous, chintzy monument to his crush.

Really, it was almost sickeningly cute.

She was pissed, of course, to have been used as some sort of… stand-in? But it wasn’t as if she wasn’t guilty of using Hannibal for comfort too, after the pain and stress of believing Will to be lost to them. But now he was out, and she’d been wondering why she and Hannibal were continuing this thing between them. The sex was good, sure, but her heart wasn’t really in it, and she’d always had the sneaking suspicion that Hannibal was holding back.

Which made sense, now.

Oh god, did that mean he was thinking about Will while…

As she tried to force down that horrifying thought, her irritation grew, and she snatched up the offending ornament and marched down to the kitchen where Hannibal was fussing over that promised lunch. Advancing upon the counter, she thrust fairy-Will right into Hannibal’s face and snapped, “What the hell is this, Hannibal?”

Hannibal blinked at her, slow like a cat, before an expression of mild bewilderment settled on his face. “Forgive me, Alana, I’m not sure I understand. I believe it is a Christmas ornament.”

“A Christmas ornament that just happens to bear a remarkable, if wildly unrealistic resemblance to the FBI’s pet empath. You and I both know Will doesn’t have a body like that.”

Hannibal suddenly snatched the ornament from Alana’s hands, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I truly have no idea what you’re talking about, Alana, but it is terribly rude to insult someone when they are not here to defend themselves. Besides which, I am sure Will looks perfectly pleasant without his clothes on.”

“Given that some consideration, have we?” Alana snarked, crossing her arms and watching incredulously as Hannibal began to stroke the Will-fairy’s hair.

“Not to mention,” Hannibal continued coldly, ignoring her question completely, “how extremely rude it is to wander the rooms of someone’s house uninvited.”

“Oh really? Because I think that pales in comparison to using one of your oldest friends as a sex substitute!”

They stared each other down for a full minute, Alana practically vibrating with rage as Hannibal continued to fondle his be-winged Will proxy. Then something in Hannibal seemed to deflate and he dropped his eyes to the counter, setting the ornament down in front of him.

“I must apologise to you, Alana. You are not and will never be a substitute for anyone. But I have not been honest, to you or myself.”

The sincere regret in Hannibal’s voice softened Alana’s anger immediately. “Hannibal… when did you buy that thing?”

“I… believe it was not long after Will’s imprisonment.”

“Uh-huh. And how much time have you spent staring at it instead of working?”

Hannibal hesitated, reaching out to pet the ornament again before catching himself and placing his hands flat against the counter. “I had to move it out of my office, it was distracting me during appointments.”

Alana stared at him and then burst out into laughter. “Oh dear, you’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

There was a smile tugging at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. “I think, perhaps, I do.”

“Even after…” she gestured vaguely towards Hannibal’s wrists, “everything?”

A sly smile slid onto Hannibal’s face. “It is always good to know one has the attention of one’s beloved.”

“God, I always knew you were weird but…” Alana looked at Hannibal, considering. “Can lunch wait for a bit?”

Hannibal looked mildly disapproving for a second but relented with an only-slightly-put-upon, “It will keep reasonably well in the oven.”

“Good.” Alana grabbed his hand, pulled him round the counter and started in the direction of the living room, calling, “Don’t forget your boyfriend!” behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hannibal snarl a little but snatch up fairy-Will as he went past.

Once they reached their destination, Alana shoved Hannibal gently into a sofa, ignoring his protests, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She held her finger to her lips, shushing Hannibal who was watching her with a sort of tightly-held panic in his eyes. Which increased to outright terror when the call connected and she spoke.

“Hello, Will.”

“Alana? What’s going on?”

She arched an eyebrow at Hannibal, letting the corner of her mouth curl in a little smirk as she said, in a deadly serious tone, “I need you to come to Hannibal’s house.”

Hannibal’s mouth dropped open and he made to get up off the sofa but Alana planted her foot directly in the centre of his chest and shoved him back down again, only barely suppressing her laughter at the outraged expression on his face. Good day to wear pants.

Meanwhile, Will was objecting from the other end of the line. “Alana, why… what do you need me for? You don’t even want me going near Hannibal.”

Alana rolled her eyes and enunciated slowly for the benefit of the oblivious empath. “I need you. To come to Hannibal’s. Now.” And then, just to make damn sure the idiot fish took the bait: “He’s been acting… off. Not like himself today. He’s-”

And then she cut off both herself and the call.

“There, that ought to get his ass in gear.” She looked down at Hannibal. “And we’re broken up now, by the way.”

Hannibal was openly staring at her, seemingly stunned. After a moment, though, he tilted his head, scrutinising her carefully. “Do you intend some form of reckoning, Alana? Because if so, I must assure you that Will has no idea of my feelings, nor any inclination to reciprocate. He has done nothing to incur your wrath.”

Alana set herself down on the sofa next to him, leaned over, and flicked him on the nose. This caused Hannibal to do a perfect impression of an offended cat, right down to the way he scrunched up his face, and Alana spent several minutes giggling at him as a result. When she finally calmed down, she put her hand over Hannibal’s – who was pouting even more than usual – and rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can feed me lunch and tell me how long this little crush has been going on. And in return, I’ll tell you why I think you’re wrong about that whole reciprocation thing.”

Around an hour later, they were just finishing a rather illuminating lunch (which left Alana seriously questioning her observational skills), when the front door burst open and Will’s voice resounded through to them.

“Alana! Alana!”

“He just barges in without knocking?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Hannibal had the grace to look sheepish at the implication.

They both turned as Will rushed into the kitchen, a frantic expression on his face and one hand on his gun holster. Alana was impressed – she must really have been convincing on that phone call.

Slightly out of breath, Will skidded to a halt and stared, his eyes flicking between Alana and Hannibal, evidently trying to work out what the hell he was missing. Eventually, he grimaced and snarled out, “Ok, if this is some kind of weird couple-bonding activity, I don’t want anything to do with it and I will shoot anyone who insists.”

“We’re no longer a couple, actually,” Alana replied mildly, watching for Will’s response with interest (as was Hannibal, practically falling out of his seat leaning forward to hear).

Surprisingly, he didn’t immediately start screaming in frustration, but simply looked from one to the other with cool incredulity, his gaze lingering only a second too long on Hannibal. “Fine,” he said, finally. “So what, then, the fuck?”

“There’s something we need you to look at, in the living room,” Alana told him, rising to her feet and beginning to walk in that direction.

“O… kay. Don’t want to do the dishes first?”

“I believe they can wait,” Hannibal told him, voice a little weak, which drew a suspicious glance from Will (possibly more for the mess left behind than the voice). He followed along easily enough though, flanked by Alana in front and Hannibal behind.

As they entered the living room, Will let out a little bark of laughter as fairy-Will – seated carefully in the middle of the sofa – came into view. “The hell is that thing?” he asked incredulously.

Alana ignored the question and pointed at the seat to the left of mini-Will. “Sit,” she ordered Will, who quirked an eyebrow but obeyed without question. “And Hannibal, you sit there,” she added, pointing to the right cushion. Once both men were ensconced in a fairy-Will sandwich, she took the seat opposite them and gestured towards the offending ornament.

“I found him sitting in pride of place in Hannibal’s study. Any thoughts about that?”

Will, yet again, stared between Alana and Hannibal with a bewildered look on his face, but received no explanation in return. Finally, he looked back down at his miniature doppelganger and smirked.

“So, you want me to figure out who put it there? I’m really better with murderers than pranksters but I’ll give it a shot. I don’t suppose you’ll have had Price or Zeller over for dinner, because they’d be my first-”

“Nobody left it here,” Hannibal reprimanded him, albeit gently.

“Oh, so you…” Light dawned in Will’s eyes and he looked away from Hannibal, chastened. “It’s… very festive?” he added, weakly.

Alana threw her hands up and made a very pointedly exasperated noise. “Look closer, Will. Doesn’t it remind you of someone?”

Inevitably, instead of doing as suggested, Will did that thing with his eyebrows instead. Alana wondered if perhaps it was some rudimentary form of communication that came easier to him than words. She was just considering developing her own dialect consisting of picking up the fairy and beating Will about the head with it, when Hannibal gently lifted it and placed it in Will’s lap. They shared a glance and Alana rolled her eyes for possibly the thousandth time that day, before Will turned his attention to the ornament.

He traced a finger along its curls, unknowingly mirroring Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal himself was watching closely, his entire being seemingly focussed on and yearning for Will’s reaction.

Eventually – possibly encouraged by Alana’s none-too-subtle toe tapping – he carefully set fairy-Will on the floor by his feet and then dragged his eyes up to Hannibal, a blush colouring his cheeks.

“You bought this… brought this thing into your house… because it reminded you of me?”

Hannibal hesitated for a second and then purred, “In fact I find everything reminds me of you, dear Will. Rare is the moment you are not in my thoughts.”

“O-oh.” There was a pause, heavy with tension, and then a tiny smile appeared on Will’s face. “You know I don’t look like that without clothes, right?”

The noise that came out of Hannibal was one Alana had never heard him make before, nor anything remotely like it. It was almost a giggle, almost a whine, and Will looked equally as surprised by it until Hannibal leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

“Finally,” Alana muttered, averting her eyes a little. Or, attempting to: it became a little difficult not to stare when Will climbed into Hannibal’s lap and they both started moaning without any care for volume.

“Ok, you both are gross and it’s time for me to go.” She was reasonably certain neither of them heard her, given that Will seemed to be testing Hannibal’s reaction to hair-pulling (definitely favourable), and turned on her heel to leave. However, a thought struck her and she turned back to scoop fairy-Will up from the floor (carefully avoiding the bodies writhing on the sofa), and carried him out of the room with her.

“You’re coming with me, Will junior. You’re too young for that kind of party.”

#hannigram fic #hannibal fic #hannibal #hannigram #my fic #alana finds out #alana bloom #alana bloom is done with your hannigram nonsense

[we-are-conjoined]

Hannigram + date night!

another prompt from @krey-9-jorce! they drew the sweetest fanart of my hannigram + vacationing fic oml i’ve had to look at it several times just to make sure it’s real!! many thanks for the prompt and the art!

Note: this fic is a bit darker than my last two - will is definitely dark!will so he and hannibal are murder husbands, well, murdering their way through europe. i doubt anyone in this fandom minds that but if you do, this is your warning to read carefully! also they’re using their regular names (even though i doubt they canonically would, being on the run and all) because i’m lazy lolol. there’s one reasonably defined OC as well but she’s basically irrelevant.

“This is the young man I was telling you about, Dr. Lecter,” Ina Hoffmann called. Her heavily accented English carried much louder on the waves of champagne she’d been downing all night. As she made her way through the crowds, her bouncing brown curls and spangled dress caught the attention of every gentleman (and quite a few ladies) on the dance floor.

Those same eyes turned almost immediately afterwards to the man she was dragging - by the wrist, no less - across the room. They looked him up and down, eyed his fine Italian tuxedo and dark curls not quite masking azure eyes, and turned to one another with curiosity and dismay.

Is he the new one? Has she already moved on so quickly from that wealthy lawyer? Ah, her parents must be absolutely fed up, were just a few of the whispers shared in Luxembourgian behind manicured fingers.

The man Ina had called turned at the sound of his name, a thin smile alighting upon even thinner lips at the sight of the young debutante. He nodded away the guests he’d been entertaining and gave her a slight bow as she approached.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember any singular young man, Ina - you have so many, you know. Please, introduce us?” he asked. The remnants of his native language hugged every word that spilled from his lips, and gave a wholly pleasant chill down the spine of every woman near enough to hear.

Ina giggled prettily and pulled the dark-haired man forward, slipping her hand from his wrist into the curve of his elbow with a very particular subtlety. Dr. Lecter’s eyes flicked to the motion for only an instant before returning his gaze to her’s - he’d seen that motion a dozen times from her, and used it plenty himself.

“Dr. Lecter, surely you must remember this one; it’s Will Graham, of course!” Ina crooned, and closed her eyes for a moment as if overcome with emotion. “Is he not one of the finest gentlemen you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

Will Graham grimaced just shy of imperceptibly, but held out his free hand to meet the one Dr. Lecter offered amicably enough.

“Yes, I’m Will Graham. It’s all right if you don’t remember my name, Doctor,” Will said, “I’ve certainly heard enough about you to remember yours.”

“I do apologize. I don’t usually forget a name so easily, but you know our Ina. She speaks of so many things at once - it can be hard to keep track. ”

“I understand. That’s one of her many good qualities, in my opinion. She has so many, it’s hard to know which is my favorite,” Will disclosed, and transferred his gaze to Ina as though she were a small poodle preening for attention - with just enough emotion to satiate her spotlight cravings.

Dr. Lecter chuckled, thoroughly amused, as Ina blushed and gave Will a flirtatious tap on the shoulder. She seemed entirely too high on the night and he wondered if he should call a cab; however, he decided against it immediately. The light in her eyes was engrossing, and the thinly veiled disdain in Will’s was even more so.

“You’re far too forward, Mr. Graham,” she laughed, “and I don’t think I’ve had quite enough champagne to allow so many compliments.”

“Please, Miss Hoffmann, I was just on my way for another glass myself,” a dashing but unknown young man said, stepping up behind her with impressive alacrity. “Would you like to accompany me on my search?”

Ina shrugged with glee and, after casting one more glance at the two men she was leaving, took the arm he offered her.

“Don’t go anywhere, you two!” she cheered as her new conquest led her away. “We’ve still got heaps to discuss!”

Dr. Lecter and Will waved until she turned back around and was absolutely occupied with another flight of fancy before lapsing into a thick, still silence. 

Will lapsed into more than that - he let out a barely-there sigh and lifted a hand to his bow-tie, running a finger underneath his collar in a desperate attempt to ease the itch that had pursued him since the moment he’d closed the last button.

Hannibal was there before he’d even gotten halfway around the base of his neck. 

“Don’t,” he chided, taking Will’s hand in his own. “You’ll ruin the knot. I spent far  too long on your tuxedo for you to ruin it as soon as we meet again.”

Will gave him a calculated glare - however, it was met with a warning eyes that bored into his like a needle, until he relented and released his collar.

“This is your idea of a date?” he murmured after Hannibal finished fixing his ‘hard work’. “We’ve been on the run together for how long now? And the first time you agree to take me out, we have to spend the whole evening apart?” 

Will tried not to sound too petty, normally - he didn’t want Hannibal getting any strange ideas - but tonight he couldn’t help an inkling of a genuine whine circling the edges of his conversational tone. 

He really was warranted a good critique of Hannibal at this point. After they’d fallen from the cliff, their intentions towards each other had been utterly clear for the first time - Will loved Hannibal. Hannibal loved Will. The two years they’d spent as more than enemies or friends had been captivating, electric, and perfect - utterly transcending even the most whirlwind romances. 

But even the most captivating, perfect, and transcendent relationship required a real date night every now and then.

Hannibal didn’t mind that their only outings together always ended in someone ending up thoroughly dead; in his opinion, there was nothing more alluring than Special Agent Will Graham doused in the blood of another human being, and their killing sprees always ended with the two of them tumbling passionately into bed together, so what was the problem?

“The problem,” Will had said a few nights prior to the present, as they’d strung up the limbs of a notably rude stock broker, “is that I want to spend time with you doing something everybody else might consider normal.”

“We are a million light years from normal, darling,” Hannibal had offered his usual reply, panting at the exertion of speaking and stringing, and it was met with an irritated grunt from the patch of darkness next to him. 

But eventually Will had worn Hannibal down with much, much compromise. They had to go to a place of Hannibal’s choosing, and Will was required to wear and do precisely as he was told.

“Will this be how all our time together is spent?” Will asked suddenly, and Hannibal glanced to him, surprised at the darkness in his voice. “Forced to pretend we don’t know each other? Will I have to break the hearts of every feebleminded debutante and kill every police officer in Luxembourg before we can spend any real time together?”

Hannibal heard it in Will’s voice - a sigh, a desire, for something that wasn’t what he was saying outright.

“Is that what you want, Will?” he asked quietly, enticingly, “could you be, perhaps, bored?” He stepped closer, right up against Will’s shoulder, enjoying the heat that rolled from his skin in crackling swells.

Will remained stubborn for only a moment before closing his eyes and leaning just slightly in Hannibal’s chest. Their suits brushed so lightly that neither of them felt it, but the proximity was enough to send both their heads spinning with intimate desire for the exact same thing.

“Take responsibility, Hannibal,” he murmured, just barely a breathe.

Hannibal heard, and he understood.

“Have you encountered anyone rude tonight, darling? Do you suppose anyone has acted particularly disgracefully?” 

The words slipped from Hannibal’s lips like silk sheets falling from a bed, or a snake slithering through the bars of its poorly-made cage, and were met with a lip-biting smile from Will.

They seemed to nod without movement and fell into step with polished dexterity, one that came with an extreme understanding no one else in the room could even begin to understand. The two of them drew the eyes of many who once again sizing them up, trying to comprehend their intrusion into Luxembourgian high society.

Will set a surreptitious glare around the room, picking up on every exit their venue offered. Many of the doors were tall and exquisitely engraved and filigreed - and flanked by at least two servants more than happy to hinder his and Hannibal’s subtle escape. 

“There,” Hannibal breathed into his ear. It sent a thrill down Will’s spine and he narrowed his eyes in the direction Hannibal had subtly gestured - a much plainer exit, with only a single extremely disinterested employee standing nearby. 

“We’ll drug them, then?” Will whispered, turning his head as though trying to find someone, but speaking directly into Hannibal’s ear. “Tell the servant they’re drunk, call a cab, and be on our way?”

Hannibal gazed upon him with a look so intensely and unabashedly proud that Will had to resist the urge to chuckle.

“So, dear,” he said, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s shoulder and turning back forwards before anyone was the wiser, “what’ll it be for dinner tonight?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking ‘who’?” was the reply Will received, and he bit down on his inner lip - hard - to resist the excitement that rolling in his stomach when Hannibal pressed a small, nearly invisible knife into the palm of Will’s hand.

They both paused at the edge of the dance floor and surveyed the scene before them. It was of Ina Hoffmann, their sweet, silly debutante who had ordained to think she could introduce them, twirling in the arms of a young man who clearly hoped to receive something from her that she would never give. 

For them, it was the perfect excuse to steal her away - to rescue her.

“Perhaps she thought we would duel for her hand?” Will asked, and hummed pensively at the thought.

“She was a sweet child,” Hannibal said, and then turned to Will with a smile that was utterly familiar but remained entirely seductive. “You can break her heart and kill her in one night; two birds with one stone, as it were.”

“More like one bird with two stones,” Will replied, and with that, they glided across the room to meet their debutante with the ease of a vulture descending upon prey.

Fin.

disclaimer: the last line about “one bird with two stones” is NOT MINE. i can’t for the life of me remember who made the edit i saw that was titled that, but i was 100% inspired by ANOTHER POST for hannigram’s last banter. i don’t want take any kind of false credit, so please keep that in mind!  

let me know if there are any typos or errors and i’ll be happy to change them immediately!

#i hope you enjoy it #it was so fun to write them into a high society setting #poor ina though lololol #they really did 'rescue' her and then kill/eat her that night #oops #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal fic #fanfiction #my fic #hannigram fic #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #dark!will #post-s3 #hannibal season 4 #murder husbands

[wyrm-wolf]

Of Flowers & Death Drabble II

I am a big nerd for this au and so is @le-wendigogo so here have some more *throws fluff at you*

~~

Such beauty, and such grace. Among those walking apes, he is but a burst of blooming flowers in the desert. A wild thing among domestication, dancing and flaunting along with the people of the town. They do not realize what lovely creature is dancing with them; hips swaying, arms flowing along with the movement of the crowd. Neon lights flashing a multitude of colors, music thrumming and buzzing in the air, people dancing and laughing. The smell of smoke and alcohol fills the air, keeping it stale and soggy, while the people standing around them sweat of lust and greed.

And yet, the only thing Hannibal can do is watch his flower dance.

Watching as his beau swirls around the crowd, head lost in the music, eyes closed as he just moves with the rhythm. Hannibal sits, drinking his beer as his flower danced among the heathens. He smiled as Adam eyes locked onto his own, blue like the clear lakes that once were alive in those ancient times, grinning as he twirled away from the group he was dancing with. Moving, sauntering, stalking over to where Hannibal was seated, avoiding any hands seeking to touch, to caress the embodiment of beauty.

Adam stands before him, cheeks flushed rosy red, swaying on his feet, back and forth, to and fro, smiling widely as he takes his lover’s hand. Holding his hand, Hannibal delicately brings Adam’s hand up to his lips, placing a smooth kiss onto his hand. Lips parting open, as Adam breathes through his mouth, eyes closing, head tilting at the feeling of soft lips on his skin. Caressing and igniting those wildfires that burn inside of him, making him take the great leap, just a few steps closer to death.

A few steps closer to love

And in a flash, Adam found himself enveloped in those strong arms, arms that have carried the dead, and fought men and monsters for centuries. A nose pressed against his curls, soft whisper of breath before Hannibal pulled back to smile at him.

“You’re drunk.” he stated, getting a small huff from Adam, and a roll of the eyes.

“So, this is a club after all.” Adam pokes back, twirling around in Hannibal’s arms, continuing to sway and move with the beat. Dancing in his own little circle, in own little space if peace and clarity.

Hannibal does nothing to stop the beau from dance, swaying hips and mischievous eyes, almost sinful as it is majestic. He takes the beau’s hand, slowly leading them to the back door, keeping an eye on Adam as his head swirls with the music, twirling under the street lamp’s dim light while they walk to Hannibal’s bike. Strapping Adam’s helmet on he watches as Adam’s fingers come up to caress the floral design on the side of the helmet, it was a gift from Hannibal, something to ‘keep his pretty head safe, in case of an accident’. Adam loves it, he loved him, and just smiled as he sat down in front of the motorcycle.

Stranding off to the side, Hannibal took a smoke out, lighting one up before their ride home, to their seclusive little home. A place where Adam wasn’t bound to wearing stiffly clothing-no matter how much he loved his soft flowery sweater, they were nothing compared to being free of clothing-he would walk around their little kingdom, checking on the garden he started, smiling as he sung to the flowers. Hannibal had never understood what he meant by singing to them, but if it made his beau happy, he was content to watch and listen as Adam sung in the ancient tongue of their people.

“The stars are pretty tonight.” Adam hummed, his head tilted back to watch at those twinkling lights.

Hannibal hummed, tossing the cigarette to the ground, stepping on the little thing before moving over to his bike. A hand caressing down Adam’s long pale neck, before his lips came down, flooding down his neck with kiss. Listening to that feather soft gasp, as Adam’s hands jump up to cup Hannibal’s cheeks. Making a small noise, before pulling him up for a kiss, both of them sighing in content. Soft lips over rough ones, sliding together into one wet kiss before they have to pull away for a breath. Hannibal moves behind Adam, sitting down on the seat as he starts up the bike, and like that their rolling down the street. Wind in their hair, and love in their hearts.

When they get home, the first thing Adam does is flop down on the bed, toeing his shoes off as he turns his head to nuzzle against the soft fabrics. While Hannibal takes the time to remove his boots, and jacket, before stepping into the room. Breath catching at the sight of his lovely little nymph, nothing can compare to his beau, his sweater hitching up to reveal the pale blushing skin of his chest. Cheeks flushed from the alcohol, as he hums a few notes to himself.

“As always, you are a sight to behold.” He comments, hanging up his jacket, as Adam rolls over to his side.

Adam scoffs, grinning to himself as Hannibal removes his shirt. “Flattery doesn’t get you anywhere in these ages, Hannibal.”

“Oh? I must say, it can get me very far.” he grins, sharp teeth like a shark, as he crawls onto the bed, leaning over Adam who only looks innocently up at him. Leaning down to pepper kisses over Adam’s cheek, before whispering, “It got me you, didn’t it?”

Adam giggles, playfully he tries to push Hannibal away, only for the man to grin, and lay down beside him. Leaning forward to brush their noses together, causing Adam to duck his head a giggle some more. That laugh, oh how it hits the heart, like the soft sound of wind chimes dancing along in the wind. Hannibal reaches up to run his fingers through those lovely curls, reminiscing those time where Adam’s curls were filled with blossoms. Only to be pulled from his thoughts by nimble fingers tracing over his cheekbones, pulling him in close for another kiss.

“I suppose so.” Adam grins cheekily, laugh at the little frown Hannibal gives him, before pecking his lips with another kiss.

Hannibal smiles, hands dipping down to run up under Adam’s sweater, smoothing back down his sides with a little pressure ao he can get a few chuckles from Adam. Living together for years has made him know every inch of Adam’s body rather well. Adam nuzzles up under Hannibal’s chin, soft warm breath ghosting over cold skin, as he closes his eyes, already starting to get lazy from the alcohol.

“I think it’s time for you to take a name, flower.” Hannibal mumbles, lips brushing over Adam’s forehead, as he breathes in that lovely earthy scent if his. “I’ll water the flowers for you.”

Adam nods his head, “Will you song to them for me?”

He freezes, halfway off and on the bed, as he was going to go water the plants. Head turning back to look down at his lovely beau, his sleepy little nymph, cheeks flushed and eyes closed. Head laying on his outstretched arm, as he starts to slip into a slumber from the alcohol he drank. Hannibal reaches down to push a few strands of hair behind his ear, placing a kiss over his forehead as he whispers to him.

“Anything for you, my flower.”

And with that, he lets the nymph lay quietly, moving over to the window that has the flowers. He doesn’t sing at first, studying each growing seed before finally he starts a low note. He sings a song of old tongue and dead words, a song that hasn’t been sung for ages and eons. One he knows by heart, as it is his own song. Of mourning and loss, funerals and grief, the song of Death itself is not the mournful note people have come to hear it as. But a cheerful whisper in the winds, that follows in those dark winter nights.

#hannibal #hannitowers #greek au #my writing #adam towers #hannibal lecter #hannibal au #basic instinct 2

[captainnightflyer]

Bear My Mark Upon Your Soul, part 3

Chapter 3 is finally here!

Read on AO3

Will was distracted on the next day, barely responding to Abby’s excited chatter. She was going on about their plan to visit the next village on market day in a fortnight and how she could buy linen for a new dress and Will only half-listened, nodding and staring off at the distance.

“Will… are you listening to me?”

He blinked and smiled distractedly at her.

“Sure, Abby.”

She was staring at him, blue eyes narrowed.

“No, you aren’t. What are you thinking about?”

Will sighed and decided to tell her outright.

“I had a visit last night from our mutual friend, the stag…”

Abby stood up abruptly, knocking back her chair.

“What? Did he come here? No, Will, please, you can’t go!” she flung herself in his lap and wrapped her thin arms around his neck, tears already rolling down her cheeks.

“Call down, Abby, no, he doesn’t want me to go yet… come on, stop crying and listen to me!” He hugged her tight, just like when she was a little girl and she would curl up in his lap, her head tucked under his chin. At thirteen, her legs were too long and she was too tall, but still she managed to make herself small enough to fit.

“He was in my dream… or I went someplace else in my head, I don’t know. He said he doesn’t plan to collect soon, Abby. He said he wants to… talk to me.”

Abby pulled back enough to look him in the eye, incredulous.

“To talk?”

“Yes, I know, it’s… weird. I think he’s lonely, you know.”

Abby blinked slowly, considering, until a giggle broke out.

“It figures he would be. I’m not sure how good a conversation rabbits can provide.”

Will giggled too and soon they were both laughing, Abby slipping down from his lap to the floor and holding on to his knees as they both gasped for air and tried to calm down.

Finally, she wiped her eyes and stood up. “Dear brother, you know how crazy this whole thing sounds, right? The wild stag-god wants you to keep him company, because he’s lonely. Does he know that you don’t talk much more than those rabbits?”

Will’s expression sobered and he reached out to stroke her cheek.

“If it means I can spend more time here with you, I can make the effort, little bird.” He didn’t want her to be upset, thinking how his days were numbered now and only Hannibal knew the number. So he shooed her out quickly with a hand on her back, “Go water the pumpkins now, let’s see how big you can grow them!”

Abby was right; Will had never been one to talk much. However, he just found most people were not interesting; it was easy for him so see through them and their little minds either bored or repulsed him.  Hannibal was something else altogether. Wild, terrifying, incomprehensible, and intense – yes, but Will could never imagine he could be boring. So despite his assertions to Abby, he thought that talking to him would not be that much of an effort.

***

That evening, having made up his mind, Will crawled into bed and closed his eyes; as he drifted off, he called out softly in his mind, “Hannibal!”

When he opened them, he was in a small wooden cabin. A merry fire was crackling in a small hearth; there was a narrow bed in one corner and a sturdy wooden table with two chairs right in front. Hannibal was sitting in one of them, carefully whittling a piece of wood. He looked up at Will and smiled. The feathered cloak was gone and the white shirt’s sleeves were rolled up. His eyes were still a disconcerting red color, but they didn’t glow and burn as usual. His hair was tied back and several strands have escaped their trapping, framing his face. Will blinked several times and offered a timid smile of his own. If he didn’t know exactly who stood before him, he never could have guessed.

Hannibal placed the knife and wood on the table and stood up.

“Welcome, Will. I believe this is the most human I can present myself,” he made sweeping gesture at himself and then the cabin.

Will felt strangely touched; he didn’t know yet what exactly Hannibal was, but he understood that he was as close as it gets to primal force of nature. Yet this… being had made the effort to make himself look human, to create this human environment so that Will would be comfortable. A treacherous voice whispered in his head “Calming the lamb before the slaughter…”, but Will shook it off.

“Thank you,” he said quietly and approached the table. „Is this a real house? I mean, does it exist somewhere or did you just imagine it?”

“A lone hermit came to my wood once. He was tired of people and asked for permission to live here, with the animals, under my protection. He didn’t seek to kill, he only wanted to be left in peace, so I let him. He built this cabin and lived in it until his last breath. It lies in ruins now, for it has been many years since he passed, but when he was alive, this is what it looked like.”

Will looked around the house again, with a new perspective.

“Was he your friend, this hermit?”

“I don’t know if friendship is a concept which applies to me. I used to come several times a year, when the seasons changed and my feathers wouldn’t settle and my antlers itched… I would take this form and visit him in this house, and have a cup of mead. Would you like some?”

Will blinked and there was a pitcher of mead on the table, with two cups. This is a dream, he told himself, though he wasn’t sure Hannibal couldn’t do that in the real world. He imagined the stag wandering through the forest, restless, until he finally decided to seek companionship. Will took the pitcher carefully and poured mead into both cups. Then he pushed one towards Hannibal and took the other for himself. The mead was strong, spreading warmth through his chest and belly.

“What did you talk about, with that man? Did he tell you why he ran away from people?”

Hannibal inhaled deeply before taking a sip from his own cup.

“He ran because he was different; he was the odd one out, the freak.” Hannibal’s throat clicked on the final consonant, making Will wince. “He was a big man, but gentle. He would never hurt a living thing, but his people hated him because his mind was different and he saw too much.” Hannibal leaned closed to Will and captured his gaze, voice dropping lower, “Like your mind is different, Will, but you are so much more than him.”

Will shook his head and drew back with a frown, “There is nothing wrong with me.”

“Did I say anything about wrongness? I only said that your mind works differently; it fascinated me even the first time we met, it was so full of sharp edges and oubliettes. There is a particular manner in which you see people, no? Try to look at me now; try to see me.”

Reluctantly, Will stared Hannibal in the eye. Initially nothing happened, he felt like he was trying to climb a wall of obsidian, jet black and slippery as glass. Then Hannibal blinked once, slowly, and suddenly Will was gasping, drowning in the feeling of power, wild hooves beating through the undergrowth, warm blood in his mouth and underneath it all an ocean of sadness which made his eyes tear up and his heart clench in sympathy in his chest. Hannibal blinked again and it was gone, replaced with the black obsidian wall.

“Remarkable…”

Will was struggling for air, tears flowing down his cheeks, trying to disengage from the tidal wave of emotions which had slammed through him.

“What… what was that?” Will asked, despite knowing the answer.

“That, my boy, is what I am. Who I am. I allowed you just a small glimpse but oh, how well you saw me.”

Hannibal leaned over the table and raised his hand, carefully wiping away Will’s tears.

“I did not mean to upset you so much… I may have underestimated the depth of your gift, Will. It is truly remarkable.”

Will trembled at the touch, still feeling the power coiled behind the deceptively normal exterior. For a moment, he had allowed himself to forget who he was dealing with. Still, he was not afraid of Hannibal; instead, his fascination grew with every encounter. He refilled his glass, gaining some time to collect himself, and decided to share a bit of family history.

“They say that my grandmother was a seer. I don’t know if it’s true or if it means anything. I don’t see the future, just too much of the present.”

“The gift of seeing can take many forms. It is not always passed on, and it can skip several generations. I have met seers of some renown, but they pale before you like candles to a raging bonfire.”

There was genuine admiration in Hannibal’s voice and Will flushed, ducking his head. Never in his life had he considered this a gift. It had always been more of a curse for him, a burden that he had to carry and doomed him to being mostly alone. To have someone not only accepted, but appreciated that part of him, was quite a novel feeling and he didn’t know what to do with it. So he fidgeted a little, trying to think of something to say. Hannibal seemed to see through him, as always, and saved him from trying to put his thoughts to words.

“I can see I have given you some food for thought. We don’t have to talk right now, though I appreciate the company.” Hannibal smiled, flashing his teeth, and continued whittling slowly. Will sipped his mead in the quiet of the cabin, taking the chance to observe. He could not tell Hannibal’s age, and anyway it was just his human form. He was probably much older than Will could wrap his mind around. His muscles shifted under the plain white shirt and he worked and Will’s eyes kept straying to the long, dexterous fingers carefully manipulating the knife. Why would a wild forest god know how to whittle?

“I can feel you staring,” Hannibal said with amusement, not taking his eyes off his work. Will flushed and mumbled an apology.

“I don’t mind. This is just a pastime I have not indulged in a very long time, as I have not felt the need of having human hands. I find it soothing. It is something my father taught me.”

Will looked up sharply.

“Your father?”

“Yes. But I am afraid this is a long story.”

Hannibal stood up and Will followed suit. He was reasonably sure that the time for him to go back and make good on his debt was yet to come, and still, he felt compelled to ask, “Is it time?” certain that Hannibal would know what he was talking about.

Hannibal smiled softly, “No, not yet. But it is time to wake up. Here, this is for your sister.” He handed over the small piece of wood. Will took it, shivering again as their fingers brushed, marveling how Hannibal’s hand was warm and rough, just like a normal human hand. He hadn’t really paid attention what Hannibal was making; it was a figurine of a rabbit sitting on its rump, completely lifelike. He smiled, imagining Abby’s delight and a bit sorry that it was only a dream and it was not a real gift he could bring her.

Hannibal just chuckled, as if reading his thoughts, “You’d be surprised. Go now, farewell, Will Graham.”

When Will woke up, it took him a while to get his bearings; he was not in the wooden cabin, he was I his house, in his own bed. It had been a dream. That did not explain the small rabbit figurine clutched tightly in his fist.

***

Hannibal closed his eyes and the cabin disappeared, dissipating into the trees surrounding the clearing at the center of the Raven’s Wood. Dawn was breaking already and the birds chattered in the trees, announcing the new day. Instead of reverting to his stag or raven form immediately, he chose to roam the forest as he was, walking on two feet, moving branches aside with his hands. He found it easier to focus, thinking about his conversation with the boy. There was so much more to Will than his appearance suggested. To the ordinary eye, he looked like a normal young man, almost nondescript. Hannibal was everything but ordinary and he saw deeper than that. Will’s mind was fascinating, more than could be said of almost any other human he had encountered in countless years. They were all base, sniveling swine, filled with avarice and cruelty, caring for nothing but themselves. Hannibal felt no compassion for them as he gutted them and decorated the trees with their entrails. Will was like nothing he had seen before. The boy could see, his mind sharp and merciless as he dissected the souls of his fellow humans and found them lacking, unworthy of his time. He did claim that people tended to avoid him, but Hannibal was certain that Will himself did a lot of avoiding. And there was a darkness brewing underneath that all, a primal force which made Hannibal tingle when he felt it through their link; it was delicious. Will was unique, and Hannibal found himself eagerly expecting their next conversation.

#hannigram #hannigram fic #fantasy au

[wyrm-wolf]

Swan Princess

Ah, yes another day. I won't lie, I'm not all to happy on how this one turned out, but whatever. Cursed. That's how Hannibal's life had been for many years. Cursed as a boy by his own rudeness, he vowed that when he found the witch who place the curse on him he would seek revenge. But for now he would spend the rest of his immortal years living as a stag in the morning, and a man when the moon rose up. It was a miserable, lonely life, as hunters would chase after him in the morning, and at night would be his only time to catch up on drawings or human activities. So when months turned to years, and years turned to decades, Hannibal had decided just to remain in one place so he wouldn't have to worry about new stories to tell. And that's when he met him. It had been a slow stroll through the woods in the afternoon, when he stopped suddenly, ears perked upwards at the sound of crying. Following the sound to it's caller Hannibal had found a small human boy crying, alone, in the deep woods. He watched the boy, taking in the beautiful sight before him. The boy had pale skin which was red at his cheeks and ears, a cascade if dark curls covering his face and swayed with his every movement. Stepping out of his hiding spot, Hannibal trotted over to the boy and shuffled at his curls. The boy cried out at the soft touches, but when he saw it was just a friendly stag he calmed down, letting the stag sniff at him as he made small hiccups. And when Hannibal heard the boys small laughter from licking his tears away, his heart practically melted, and those eyes of his, were they just the deepest blue he has ever seen. Hannibal leaned back up, and used his antlers to motioned for the boy to follow him. Then trotted back the way he came from, he didn't have to turn back and check if the boy was following him, since he felt the small hands hold onto his fur as he walked. "Who lives there?" The boy asked, not really thinking the stag might be able to talk. Hannibal snorted, and stepped inside the house to shed his animal skin to become a human, when he stepped back out, after he out some clothes on, he heard the little boy gasp at the sight of him. "Why are you all alone here, little boy?" Hannibal asked, his thick accent sounding rough on his unused tongue. "My father had brought me out here to teach me how to hunt, he told me to stay right there and that he would be right back. But...b-but he never came back." The boy said, starting to cry once more. Hannibal hushed the little boy, pulling him into his strong arms, and rubbing smooth circles into the boys back. When the boy's sobs had turned into soft hiccups he spoke again. "I can take care of you if you want, and you can live with me. I will not be your father, but I can promise to always take care of you." Hannibal stated pulling the boy away from him, so he could look into those lovely blue eyes. "On one condition, you tell me your name." "Will. My name is Will." Hannibal smiled, kissing Will's sift curls, as he turned to walk back into the cabin he was residing in. "Well then Will, I can tell you that thing's are starting to look up." Thinking this had all been a pleasant dream, Hannibal was delighted to find the small boy tucked under his arm in the morning. He made a quick dinner, before waking Will and told him he had to run out to town. Unbeknownst to Will, Hannibal was only stepping out to shift into his stag form. Years ago he would have screamed from the pain, his bones shifting and elongating. As sharp bones grew out of his skull, and fur free on his body. But now he sighed, and let the transformation consume himself. And when he went back inside he found Will eating his food with the delight of a starved child. He did, however, look like one. Hmmm.... He'll have to make sure to give the boy more food, but for now he would rest and watch over Will until the moon rose once more. Will was a delight. Out of all the miserable things in Hannibal's' never ending life, he had finally found peace. And it was a small little boy who's curly hair was soft no matter how much he played in the dirt, who had a love for all animals-mainly dogs-and had a mind of his own. After Hannibal had taken the lost boy in, he began to teach him all the things he knew. At first it was slow, since obviously Will's father hadn't thought about sending the boy to school, and he had no clue how to read or write. But soon Will was able to read, write, and speak six different languages, and was having long complex conversations about life. Oh, what a wonder it was to have Will around, he loved Hannibal's cooking and never asked where he went all day. Especially since he was always there with Will, even if he wasn't in his human form. Will was a smart boy, yet he could never figure out that the entire time Hannibal was the stag all along, but he never said anything, mainly because Will sometimes Will would tell the stag things he never told Hannibal himself. Like the one time Will hurt himself, and had tried to hide it from Hannibal's observant eyes. "One day when I'm older I'm going to make Hannibal a gift, because he always makes me something. So I want to make him something specially, but I don't know what to make him." Will had said one day, resting on the stag's back, as Hannibal sniffed at a green patch of grass. "Maybe I'll bring him food one day, I'll go on a hunt and bring him back the finest meat ever." Hannibal would have smiled if he was human, but settled for just nuzzling his boys curls. Will giggled, and pushed his nose away softly. "I love you too." Will yawned, laying against Hannibal's warm body and sleeping. The years passed faster than Hannibal had noticed, and soon his happy boy was a proud man ready to start a new life, but Hannibal didn't want to let go of Will. Each night he feared that his boy would wake up the next morning, and tell Hannibal he was leaving, but each morning Will would smile and prepare the coffee as Hannibal was quick to make the breakfast since it would soon be time for him to leave and shift once more. And yet the fear continued to plague him. But there was no need to hold onto the fear for long, as a new day rolled around and Hannibal was following Will in his stag form around the forest. His boy had sat down, and stared past a flowing river. "Do you think Hannibal would love me? If I told him I loved him?" Will had asked, looking to the stab for guidance. Hannibal at first was thunderstruck at the question, before giving a slow nod. Will sighed, looking past the river once more. "I bet he wants me to go, so then I wouldn't bother him anymore." Hannibal snorted, pushing his snout against Will's chest and nuzzling into him. Will laughed, hugging the stag right back, and kissing his head. "I know, you love me as well." Will sighed, stroking Hannibal's fur. They stayed in each other's embrace until night fall, Hannibal knew that he should leave to turn back human. And yet he couldn't pull himself to move away, so he stayed in Will's embrace, even as his body turned white and glowed. Even as Will gasped and pulled back slightly. Even as Will stayed watching him turn back human. "Hannibal.... you're..." " Yes, I am. I have been ever since a witch has cursed me to be like this for ages. Will, I love you, and I always have. Ever since I took you into my care, I've loved you ever since." Hannibal smiled, running long fingers through Will's uncombed curls. "So that's how your always knew I was hiding cuts from you, and here I thought you just had a sixth sense." Will laughed, before leaning in to kiss Hannibal. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed until they had to pull back for air. "You are even more remarkable than I ever dreamed of, Will." Hannibal sighed, nosing at Will's forehead. "What should we do now?" "Well, I do know of a lovely wine I've been keeping in the cellar that might go good with dinner tonight. And maybe we could have a little more fun afterwards?" "Oh, you sly little snake." "Always, for you." That night the two embraced each other like long most lovers would, and when they were sated they laid entangled in each others arms until they fell asleep. Little did they know that a certain red head witch had seen the whole kissing act, she chuckled waving her hands to release Hannibal of his curse. "I never said you wouldn't be like this forever, Hannibal." She snickered before leaving. And when the sun rose up, Hannibal gave Will one last kiss before standing out in the sun awaiting his transformation. And waited And waited And-hey! Why hasn't he turned into a stag yet? "It's broken." Hannibal mum bled to himself. "The curse...Will you broke my curse." "I did?" "Yes, you beautiful, remarkable boy. I knew there was something about you, the minute I laid eyes on you." "Dies that mean we can get naked, and go back to bed?" "Yes. It does." "Great, because I never want to wake up this early again. Now goodnight Hannibal, because I'm not waling up until the crack of night." I hope you enjoyed, because tomorrow's will be full of dogs and betrayal.

#my writing #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibaleverafter