OKAY so I saw this a few days ago and was like “whatever” but then I smashed my phone in a car door, had to clean up some dead baby bunnies in my yard, and have just generally NOT had a good week. I’m fucking spooked and I’m reblogging this twice to get the universe to stop.
I ignored this too and then i got kicked out of my house. Also reblogging twice.
I’m extremely close to a huge follower milestone that I never would’ve expected to even get remotely near to even after almost three years of being in this fandom. I’m honestly blown away.
We all have that one fic that we were so excited to write, that we had a wonderful time writing, that we are really proud of….and it doesn’t get any attention.
Raise a glass to all those fics that didn’t find their audience.
So all my writing, then?
I just want to add… be patient. I reblogged this ages ago with one particular fic in mine that I wrote one summer. I love this fic. I love it beyond reason and whenever someoene kudoses or comments on it I do a little dance of glee (and i tell them so!).
Recently it was noticed by a couple of people and recced. This is YEARS after it was written. I fell over. I screamed. I danced around the room.
So just… be patient. Love that fic to pieces after the fact. And maybe someone will find it, too.
The morning sickness doesn’t kick in till mid afternoon and Will finds himself on his knees in a bush with a body not ten feet away. He refuses anyone who comes up to touch him, still on edge from his morning with Hannibal.
How dare he?
He still can’t believe his alpha would even have such outdated ideas, let alone voice them, and his distress from learning that makes him not even want to return home.
But he has nowhere else to go.
He gets up, brushes off his knees, and heads back only to feel so many eyes on him he wants to bare his teeth.
“Are you alright, Will?”
He is not weak.
“I’m fine.”
This morning’s body is a beta whose killer is surely an alpha. Will had never felt more feral anger in all his life seeing a murder scene and it fills in his distress quite nicely.
“He’s an alpha,” he scoffs, “This man took something from him. A job, maybe? Something that he held dear but it’s not—”
“Wilbur Edwards,” Jack interrupts, “He works at the interstate. We’ll look into it.”
Will glares at him. “Can I finish?”
Bev reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Will, you ok?”
He pushes her back. “I was talking and Alpha Jack interrupted me. You want to do this yourself, Alpha? I am more than happy to let you take over.”
Jack’s angry scent fills his nose but Will knows the alpha is held back by his own. Alphas very rarely go after pregnant omegas but it’s not uncommon. Will suddenly hopes he does.
He is not weak.
“Carry on.”
Will looks at the body. “It’s not about this specific person. He wanted to show this weak little beta who was boss. He wanted them all to see he’s the alpha. THE Alpha. Maybe he works with all betas, I don’t know. I just know he wanted to be seen.”
“I’ll call the interstate. Everyone else, time for lunch.”
Jack leaves and Bev comes to his side. Will feels no comfort from her presence.
“You ok?”
“No,” he whispers, “No, I’m not.”
“What happened? Did Hannibal–”
“Hannibal acted just like all alphas and I….I won’t let anyone control me. Even if I’m pregnant.”
She puts her hand on his shoulder. “That asshole. What did he…?”
Will looks away from the body and lets out a breath. “He doesn’t want me to work,” Will mumbles, “He wants me barefoot and pregnant I guess? I don’t know.”
Bev is quiet for too long and Will looks at her. “What? You think that’s okay?”
“No, I just….you have the guy, Will. THE guy. I mean I can’t imagine living life as an omega in a sea of alphas but….Hannibal is a decent guy, right? Rich, handsome, and hot as fuck in bed?”
Will laughs. “What does that have to do with anything? He basically said I shouldn’t work. That he’d take care of me if I…shit.”
Bev pats his shoulder. “I mean it’s okay to freak out over asshole things us alphas say, but he didn’t exactly forbid you? It was just a suggestion?”
“Yeah,” Will sighs, “Hey, you think they need me anymore?”
She shakes her head. “No, probably not. Now go get your alpha. Merry Christmas.”
Will leaves after talking to Jack who seems happy to let him go for the day. “Merry Christmas, Will.”
Will nods. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”
He gets in his car and it starts to snow, light flakes that remind him of the night Hannibal and he met at Bev’s. That sad look on Hannibal’s face when he left is a memory Will doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.
The clock on his dash says it’s not yet eleven. He drives to the house and pulls into the garage. A sudden memory of doing that very thing mere days ago hits and Will wants his alpha with a desperation he hasn’t felt since their bonding. He gets out of his car and closes the garage door before he goes into the house.
Hannibal isn’t here he knows, the car would’ve been outside and his presence brings with it his scent. Will rushes up the stairs to their bedroom and takes Hannibal’s pillow, breathing him in.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Winston and Buster come in and climb on the bed. Will pulls them close and gathers the blankets all around him. The effect is better than before but still not enough. He gets up and finds more pillows in the closet, fancy silk things that feel nice against his skin. He throws them on the bed and then goes into the guest room for more blankets.
Still not enough.
He gets lost in the urge for more till he’s taken nearly every blanket and pillow in the entire house. The dogs get off the bed and bark for his attention but Will doesn’t hear them. He presses Hannibal’s pillow to his face and falls asleep.
Things I think about often: Hannibal has truly loved two people in his life, those being Mischa and Will. He is constantly sticking his hands into Will’s hair. Maybe he liked to play with Mischa’s too
A horribly, inexcusably late birthday fic for the incredibly wonderful @hotmolasses, who asked for some ghostly Hannigram smut. Happy birthday, lovely, I hope you enjoy this (even though I suspect it’s far less smutty than you wanted ) <3<3<3
Summary: Will Graham moves into the house of the late serial killer, Hannibal Lecter, against all advice from friends and colleagues. He quickly settles in, despite the odd noises and the dogs acting spooked. He has no idea that Hannibal, bewitched by Will’s beautiful mind and still present, if not living, in the house, has his own designs on the new tenant.
Will had no idea why he bought the house. Other than the price – going for a song on account of its “history” – it made no sense. It was further from work, less outdoor space for the dogs, way more upkeep to attend to. But he had been… compelled. That was the only word that fit the feeling that had consumed him when he stood at its front door, a gnawing, relentless need to own the place, toxic past or not.
It was, of course, against the advice of everyone he knew. Bev had been sympathetic but baffled. Alana had tried to be kind, but there was fear behind her eyes. Jack just snarled while questioning his sanity. None of them had ever come to visit, even professionally. Only Abigail ever came to see him; in fact she spent a lot of time with him and the dogs, snooping through what remained of the opulent household.
Will was still trying to legally adopt her, but purchasing the house of a late serial killer hadn’t helped his case. He was well aware of how it looked, how it only increased the aura of insanity that surrounded him. He didn’t care. The encephalitis was long gone by the time he decided to buy, and he was otherwise lucid and functional. In all the important ways, anyway.
~~~
He was beautiful, the boy. Unkempt and unrefined but bewitchingly pretty, with sad blue eyes and a lush, pink mouth that looked forever as if it had been bitten almost to the point of bleeding. He stalked through Hannibal’s home with a brooding intensity, followed closely by his pack, and Hannibal did not even mind the damage to his floors so striking was the picture he made.
In truth he would have preferred not to share this space in which he was suspended. And in the first few days of the boy’s residence he had made some cursory attempts to frighten him out of the place, spooking the dogs, rattling the windows, shattering a teacup or two. The only response he got was an inquisitive, almost wistful expression that passed over the boy’s face before he set about settling his pack, or sweeping up the damage. But Hannibal objected to behaving like a common poltergeist, and besides, the boy – Will, he learned – did not feel like an intrusive presence. He felt, instead, like an anchor, preventing Hannibal from losing completely all sense of himself, from becoming some spectral abstraction. He felt, oddly, like home.
) <3<3<3
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