Ch. 9: I Do

         Plucking the plastic from the closet, Will frowned. It was a clear plastic onesie, similar to the coveralls he wore when he worked on the docks with his dad. Hannibal stilled while Will examined it. After a few seconds, Will grinned. “No physical evidence…you wear this when you know you’re getting messy.”

         “Mess and Will Graham are two things that can’t be avoided in my experience.” Hannibal grinned, long fingers curling under Will’s chin to bring him into a kiss. “Best to be prepared.”

         “OK, but…” Will squinted. “You weren’t wearing this when you were going to kill Tobias or Cordell.”

         “Those weren’t Ripper kills.” Hannibal scrunched his nose. “Those were more like grocery shopping.”

         “Ah, so this is your fancy murder outfit.” Will’s lips pursed. “Did I ruin your plans for Mason?”

         “I assure you, Mason in a freezer truck and you writhing in front of me was an excellent change to my initial design.”

         Will kissed Hannibal again, soft and slow. “Still…it would be a shame for you to have brought this thing all this way and get no use out of it?”

         Hannibal tilted his head. “Are you proposing sex or murder?”

         “Do you care?”

         Hannibal smiled.

Read the Rest on AO3...

Ch. 7: Put my Name on the Card with Yours? 

        Margot made a considering face. “It’s not surprising. People with similar predilections tend to find each other. I found a woman with a caretaker complex. My brother found his little cabal of sadists and you…found someone who shares your sense of superiority and disdain.”

         “I don’t-”

         “Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me?”

         Will licked his lips. “I…asked about Mason.”

         “You asked if I abused animals like my brother, or if I just turned a blind eye to it.” Margot tilted her head, regarding Will coolly. “And you show up at our welcome reception glaring at everyone over your sunglasses and refusing to mingle until Hannibal spoke to you. Then you were much more engaged, weren’t you?”

         Will cleared his throat. He felt panic. The idea that Margot, who grew up in a world of monsters could see him clearly, and knew what he was sent a shiver down his spine. She knew. She would tell Alana. They would all know. “I’m not like Hannibal.”

         “He seems to think you are, and I trust his judgment.” Margot smiled. “Besides, after a lifetime of Masons, a few Hannibals seem rather refreshing.”

         Will frowned. “You- you still consider Hannibal a friend?”

         “I’m not sure anyone can ever fully befriend a wild animal, but agreements can be made through mutual respect.”

         “You toss the lion some meat, he leaves your stock alone and hunts elsewhere.” Will scoffed. It couldn’t be that easy, nothing so primal could be so civilized. “What happens after Hannibal kills Mason and his crew and you…invite him for dinner?”

         “No.” Margot smiled. “We accept his dinner invitation and bring good wine. I don’t cook.”

         “Does Alana know any of this?”

         “Alana is sweet and beautiful and the love of my life.” Margot’s mouth twisted into a wry expression. “But she has a talent for deluding herself when she needs to.”

         “And you don’t think she should know that her dear friend Hannibal-”

         “Saved her wife?” Margot blinked at Will. “No. No more than she needs to know that her former flame helped me hide a body.”

         Will flexed his fingers, feeling the pull of the sutures. “We all just politely ignore the fact that Hannibal’s a murderer and go on with our days?”

         Margot’s brow arched. “I think what bothers you the most about Hannibal is how little Hannibal bothers you.”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Ch. 6: Two to Tango, Three to Kill

          Will cast a side-long glance at the man next to him. “Am I supposed to dance with you now?”

          Hannibal turned to regard him, eyes warm and a hint of a smile on his lips. “We’ve been dancing all weekend, Will.”

          “Might as well step on your toes a few times, then,” Will sighed, trying to look put out as he offered Hannibal a hand. His heart beat wildly when Hannibal took it, drawing him into a ballroom dance pose, a strong hand wrapping around his shoulder as Will let his fall on Hannibal’s hip.

          “A thrilling proposition.” Hannibal took off, Will staying true to his word and stepping on the smug fuck’s toes as he was dragged around the dance floor. At first, it was accidental, but then Will raised an eyebrow and brought his foot down hard on Hannibal’s as the doctor tried to guide him through what he vaguely thought was a waltz. Instead of hissing, Hannibal smiled, that crocodile expression that did funny things to Will’s reason.

          “Sorry,” Will mumbled.

          “Are you?”

          Will shook his head. Hannibal’s smile widened. “Then don’t apologize.”

          “I should be sorry.”

          Hannibal inclined his head. “You should be in my bed, or at least writhing on that lovely sturdy sink in the library bathroom.”

          Will shifted his grip, expression hardening. But even as he glared, he found himself falling into step with Hannibal. “I should be calling the police.”

          “Ah. Is the hand on my posterior a compliment or are you frisking me, Will?” 

         Will flexed his hand instinctively, finally realizing that he’d managed to wrap a hand around one of the firm globes of Hannibal’s ass. He gripped it again, enjoying the feel of it. “Does it matter?”

          Hannibal brought their bodies closer, the hand on Will’s shoulder drifting to trace the shell of his ear and tug lightly on the lobe. “Just trying to manage my expectations for the evening.”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Ch. 5: Foursome

        “When will you acknowledge that a wolf on a leash isn’t a dog? I’d think someone who works with rescues should know that.”

         “Anything can be trained. Lions jump through rings of fire at the circus.”

         “Lions aren’t trained, Will, they’re biding their time.” Hannibal reached up and tugged at the man’s curls. Will didn’t pull away. “They either break, or they dream of feasting on the bones of those who thought them tame enough to parade around the ring.”

         “What if they don’t mind the ring?”

         “Then they’re lying to themselves and end up digging up perfectly nice golf greens.” Hannibal patted Will’s chest. “I didn’t dispose of the body on the golf course, Will. You don’t need to look in the rookery, either. It’s nesting season and the area is off limits — we can’t have you disturbing eagles.”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Ch. 4: Technically, You Killed Him...Again

         The room was empty, save for two murmuring figures standing next to a large stainless-steel counter. Will recognized Hannibal immediately, the man’s elegant hands straightening the collar of the bigger man before him. Will crept low, adrenaline spiking as he moved closer to the pair. He grabbed a knife from the counter, testing its weight.

         Hannibal and his companion still ignored him. Will began to feel again like an afterthought, like a part of Hannibal’s game — something to chuck in the lion’s den for the cats to toy with between meals.

         This time, when the blade flashed, Hannibal kept it low. His companion was still facing him, clearly unaware.

         But Hannibal wasn’t.

         He wiggled the blade back and forth at Will’s eye level, waving at Will. The crazy son of a bitch was taunting him. Will stood and saw Hannibal tilt his head and smile at him.

         Will felt fury fill his chest again. Not at the idea of murder — but that Hannibal clearly didn’t take him seriously. This time, he would.

         “Dr. Lecter what are y-” Hannibal’s conversation companion sounded confused. Hannibal raised the blade and Will charged. He swung his knife around the man before him, aiming for Hannibal’s arm. He’d drive it into the meat of Hannibal’s bicep, force him to drop the blade — then they could make out until the police came.

         Will shook his head at the idea that had invaded his very clear plan and that moment of distraction was enough for Hannibal, who grabbed the man before him, spun him around, and held him in the path of Will’s blade. Will didn’t realize anything had gone wrong until he saw blood trickling out of Cordell’s mouth.

         Stepping back, Will stared in horror at his knife, which was buried to the hilt in the man’s chest.

         “Right between the ribs,” Hannibal craned around Cordell’s shoulder to look at the wound. “You punctured the heart on the first stab.”

         He looked up at Will, smiling, letting Cordell drop to the ground. The blade, still gripped firm in Will’s right hand, slithered out of the man as the body collapsed in a heap. “You are an impressive boy.”

         Will blinked, the whirring in his mind settling down to a dull roar. “Why are you killing Mason’s friends?”  

         “Technically,” Hannibal’s smile grew. Will felt a surge of…something. It certainly wasn’t arousal. “you’re killing Mason’s friends.”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Ch. 2: Technically, You Killed Him

         Will swallowed, pulling his mind back from the edge. He should sneak away now. He should go to that bathroom and wait for Hannibal, only a crazy person would kill out in the open. Will shook his head. He wasn’t going to kill. He was going to yell. Yell and maybe get a few good punches in.

         He sneered at the couple. Tobias’ hands were now under Hannibal’s shirt, fondling that stupid strong chest. Honestly, it just proved that Will was right, Hannibal was a piece of shit. The fact that Hannibal was kissing a friend of Mason Verger was probably an excellent indication that the good doctor was indeed a bit of a psycho.

         The fact that Hannibal produced a knife from his pocket was also a pretty good indicator.

         “The fuck,” Will whispered to himself, the blade caught the light from the flames, a curved linoleum knife. Had that been in Hannibal’s pocket the whole time? Hannibal raised his hand and angled the knife toward Tobias’ neck.

         Will sprang from his hiding place, running toward the couple. He grabbed the first thing he could — a two-foot knight chess piece and swung it for Hannibal’s head.

         In the work of an instant, Hannibal pivoted, and Will watched in horror as he brought the chess piece down on Tobias’ skull. There was a sickening crack and the man crumpled to Will’s feet.

         Will knew he should check on Tobias, fall to the ground and assess vitals, or even apologize, but he could only look at Hannibal. The doctor was smiling at him, that wide, toothy smile, his wild eyes flickering in the firelight.

         “That was beautifully done, Will.” Hannibal glanced down at Will’s hands. “A white knight, how fitting.”

         “I— what?” Will blinked, he looked at the bloody horse’s head, then at the crumpled man at his feet.

         Hannibal nudged the body, lifting a shoulder with the tip of his shoe and letting it flop back to the ground. “Careful next time, you almost struck me.”

         Will dropped the knight, wincing when it landed with a dull thud on Tobias’ body. “I MEANT TO STRIKE YOU!”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Chapter 1: Where’s the Suit? 

         “You’re sure about this?” Will muttered as he scanned the area for a bar. The hotel had set up a little wet bar at the head of the docks, so people could stand in the sun and hope seagulls didn’t shit on them, he guessed.  

         “Will, please, you promised.”

         “I said I wouldn’t object to the wedding,” Will caught the eye of a man behind the bar and signaled for a drink. “This is the welcome reception; I can bitch all I want to now.”

         Alana sighed, she turned and cradled Will’s cheeks in her soft hands. “I am sure, Will. I wish you’d give Margot a chance.”

         Will sighed. “I’ll get a drink in me. I promise I’ll be sociable by the time you bring her over.”

         Squeezing his face like he was some sort of cherished family spaniel, Alana released him. “You’re the best.”

         “I know,” Will tapped the large plastic button pinned to his shirt. It said Best Man in swirling font. “I’ve got the button.”

         “Will! So nice to see you again.” Margot tapped Will with a manicured hand, spinning him from his lovely dream of a fishing boat. Will might have resented the insincerity in Margot’s voice, but since the feeling was mutual, he let it slide. Alana stood next to her, their arms linked, and Alana’s pretty brows furrowed in a warning to be polite. “How’s the animal rescue?”

         “Margot.” Will cocked his head. How’s the family, torture any animals today? probably wasn’t the opening line Alana was hoping for. He took a deep breath through his nose and willed the whiskey through his bloodstream. “Hi.”

         “I see you’re ready for your duties.” Margot nodded and Will glanced down at his chest.

         “Yeah.” Will grimaced. “Where’s the suit? He get one?”

         “The suit is behind you, and quite hurt that Margot didn’t get me a sparkly pin to announce my title.”

Read the Rest on AO3...

Hey!

First, welcome to the fandom:

As far as beta reading goes, I'd say just ask. Both my first and current beta readers were fandom friends who know that my dyslexia made for some disastrous linguistic faux pas (I had Hannibal kissing Will with his TONG, god help me). So as much as I am loathe to be social, it really pays off to just talk to the fandom. You've made one friend already (hi!), and the more you make, the more you'll find grammar-minded people who can tell you when you've lost the plot. I would say we're a pretty friendly group, and filled with super generous readers and writers who won't mind giving you help.

Back in the ancient times there was a google doc with beta names on it, but now I think all the cool kids are on Discord or Twitter. I'm not on Twitter, but I believe there are a few Beta channels on the Hannibal servers I've seen - if you need an invite, I can help you out there.

Honestly, the best way to find a beta reader for your stuff might still be to make a post - either on Tumblr, Twitter, or whatever - tag your fandom, and ask if a beta is available. I think the biggest key is to be clear on what you're looking for (ie: Constructive Criticism, Grammar Help, Refining Dialogue, A Combination of Those) and what your time frame is. Also giving a little elevator pitch of the fic - "I'm writing a oneshot where Hannibal is actually a Flemish Giant Rabbit and Will is a carrot...anyone want to take a look and give me thoughts?" - might help find someone with a similar sense of humor/interests that you have.

Either way, I'm extremely excited for new content in a fandom that is absolutely overflowing with talented creators. I'm sure the fic is going to be an awesome addition.

I'm very sorry about your migraine. Perhaps it will help to know that I sobbed as I wrote it - like huffing, snuffling sobs that made my husband look at me all:

I hope you enjoyed the fic, beyond the headache! Thank you so much for reading!

Winners! Spacedogs Giveaway!

I had the random drawing for the Spacedogs gifts and we have winners!

First place was @mckitterick, who will be getting this lovely stuffie:

Second place was @evertonem, who got a prize I forgot I had (it sucks to get old, kids):

Finally, third place goes to @hannibalseclectictiecollection, who gets a prompt of their choice - pray for them, we'll see what lunacy I come up with.

All prizes are shipped and if you all had fun, maybe I'll do this again sometime!

I'm finally posting another Spacedogs fic on the 14th! To celebrate, I thought I'd do a giveaway.

Have you ever wanted a little Adam Raki for your home? Here's your chance. Reblog this and on the 15th I'll pick two users. One gets a corgi stuffie in a spacesuit, the other gets a prompt fill!

Here's the stuffie (Louise for scale):

Happy Valentine's Day to my fannibal family.

         Hannibal looked up from his sketch when he heard “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!”. Hannibal wasn’t sure if being the director of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane required a petulant sense of humor, or if Alana still hadn’t gotten over the defenestration, but either way, a plastic-talking Santa had appeared just outside of his cell on December 1st. The lurid red creature had a motion detector that, when tripped, caused the thing to wish a Merry Christmas to all and pat his bloated belly.

         Tasteless.

         Hannibal had refused to react to the thing but did find it useful as it alerted him any time the door opened. Today, it brought tidings of Dr. Bloom herself, walking up to his cell with a wry smile twisting her bright red lips.

         “Good morning, Alana. I see we’re still trying to find a shade of red that suits you.”

         Alana’s eyes narrowed, but only for a moment. Hannibal stilled. She thought she had the upper hand. How interesting. “Merry Christmas, Hannibal.”

         Hannibal smiled. Ah, so she’d brought another little Christmas trinket in hopes of annoying him. “There are 18 days until Christmas, Alana. Are you giving me my present early?”

         “It’s really a present to me.” That smile had grown smug on her lips. She held up a piece of cardstock. “You got a Christmas card and I thought I should pass it along.”

         Hannibal raised a brow. “I was under the impression that you and Jack Crawford carefully monitored and censored my correspondence.”

         “We do.” Alana waved the card slightly in her hand. “But you’ve been reasonably good for three years…and we both thought you deserved this.”

         Hannibal put his charcoal down, careful not to smudge his latest drawing — a perfect copy of Caravaggio’s Christ at the Column, save for one of the torturers replaced by a plastic Santa Claus. “Did Bedelia send me a card?”

         “I’m afraid not.” Alana’s heels clicked neatly on the floor. She rarely approached the glass of Hannibal’s cage, but she must have been feeling especially self-satisfied with her little jape. She pressed the card to the glass at Hannibal’s eye level, securing it firmly with two pieces of tape — a five-by-seven blot in the middle of his view.

         She stepped back, but stayed still, watching Hannibal intently. Clearly, he was expected to inspect the card and react. Hannibal stood, walking around the table to get a closer look at the card. It was remarkably banal — a postcard-style holiday greeting with four family photos and some trite wish on it — hardly anything to get upset by.

         His step faltered when the smiling faces in the four pictures became discernable. Will Graham and his family grinned at him from cheap cardstock.

Read the Rest on AO3...

This is like...the kindest most wonderful thing ever. Thank you.

I'm utterly honored that you read my fics, and I love that I could play some small part in expanding your English word list (even if I fear my writing is 90% dick jokes). Thank you so very much for such a lovely comment and I'm counting it as an early holiday present!

Chapter 7: Balance

         Will sighed, watching as Hannibal made more adjustments.

         He’d come to find Hannibal waiting for him, smiling and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Will had known then it was either a body or some weird sex thing.

         Lucky for him, it was the sex thing.

         While Will opened himself in the bathroom at Hannibal’s request, he heard alarming sounds of dragging and metal scraping. He’d been kidding about the Iron Maiden, he hoped to hell Hannibal knew that.

         When he emerged, Will stopped dead. “You don’t do things by halves, do you?”

         Hannibal grinned. Before him was an enormous set of four mirrors, each set in a gilded frame and hinged to one another. Hannibal had moved them so they formed a semi-circle in their bedroom, coiling around a chair. The cannibal in question stood naked beside the chair, eight reflections of his ass surrounding him. He gestured to the seat as if he were at a formal dinner. “Will! Your chair is ready.”

         Will nodded at it. “That’s from the dining room.”

         “It is.”

         Will’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to sit every guest we have in it, and watch me blush at the memory of what we’re going to do on it.”

         Hannibal blinked impassively. “What we did on the dining room table didn’t seem to bother you when we had Jack to dinner.”

         “It didn’t bother me, it incited me.” Will had suffered through an interminably long dinner, images flooding Will’s mind of Hannibal licking inside of him as he rubbed his cock where Jack’s place setting had sat.

         They’d broken eight pieces of Hannibal’s bone China that night. When Hannibal had shut the door Will had thrown the man across the dining room table and taken him with a shout, pressing a shard of plate against Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal had kept the shard, of course, tucking it away with the box of lures he’d been given throughout the year they’d been together.

         “I enjoy inciting you.” Hannibal waved at the chair. “And you enjoy being incited.”

         With that, Hannibal stepped around the chair and sat on it, patting his lap. Will glanced at the eight Hannibals in the mirrors dubiously. He could barely handle the one he had. And yet…

Read the Rest on AO3...

Chapter 5: Fear of Commitment

         Will reared up when he heard the knock on his door. He clicked his Spotify off, Berlioz stopping abruptly. “MY OFFICE HOURS ARE CLEARLY MARKED ON THE SYLLABUS!”

         Bev’s head popped into the office, eyebrows high. “If you fail me, I’m telling Jack.”

         “What do you want?”

         Bev’s eyebrows drew together. “Wow. What happened with Hannibal?”

         “I don’t fucking care about Hannibal Lecter.”

         Bev slipped into the office, shutting the door behind her. “Oh yeah, I can see that. You’re just sitting here seething about him.”

         “DON’T TELL ME-”

         “DO NOT RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME WILL GRAHAM.” Will’s eyes widened. He sat back in his chair like he’d been shoved. Bev reeled forward, rounding his desk to shove a finger in his face. “I’m not your boyfriend, I’m not Jack Crawford, and I’m not one of your students. I’m not going to tolerate your shit just because you’re in a bad mood.”

         Will let out a harsh breath through his nose, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry.”

         “Fine. Accepted.” She smacked Will’s head lightly with a folder. “New forensic reports on the Maestro. I can leave them with you and get back to the lab, or we can talk about the bug that’s up your ass. Your choice.”

         Will stared at her for a long moment. She really was the only friend he had in the world that didn’t expect him to play fetch. “Hannibal kicked me out last night.”

         “Oh.” Sitting the folder on the table, Bev rounded the desk and took a seat, folding her hands in her lap. “Like get out I can’t talk to you right now? Or get out and never darken my doorstep again?”

Read the Rest on AO3....

Hi!!!! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes!

I'm not sure which fic is my favorite. Post It and The Long Weekend were the hardest to write, so I'm pretty attached to them. I also really love Playing Chicken and Mongoose Day, because they're the silliest things I've ever written. I'm also pretty partial to Feathers. so yeah, I guess have a thing for Nigel...

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! Here's your micro fic:

"I'm going to get you for this."

"You told me I could plan whatever I wanted for our wedding as long as it was under 500 dollars."

"WELL I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D LET TATTLECRIME SPONSOR IT!"

"That shows a lack of imagination on your part, don't you think?"

"We're going to get caught."

"Don't be silly, Freddie isn't live streaming the event. We'll be on our honeymoon by the time she posts anything." Hannibal lowered his chin. "Freddie? Is the ring light washing Will out?"

Freddie adjusted the flash. "I think it's the sour fucking expression on dream boy's face."

"Hmmm, you may have a point." Hannibal nudged him. "Will, these are our engagement photos. Smile."

"I don't feel like smiling."

Hannibal leaned in, the cannibal's lips brushing his ear. "If you smile, I'll make her our honeymoon feast."

Will felt a slow grin form on his face. He leaned close to Hannibal and smiled at Freddie.

Happy Birthday to you too, birthday twin! I hope you had an excellent day. as for the answer, my ideal fic is almost always one that will live in people's minds. What would it include? For me, I just like writing things that are emotional and funny. I'm out here trying to recreate the feeling I get when I watch The Birdcage for everyone else.

And...you sent me a GIF! So here's a ficlet to go along with it.

Nigel glared at the second hotdog in his hand before taking a huge bite. Fuck Darko and his 'hold my hotdog for one second, fucker' bullshit, Nigel hoped he starved.

The bosses were letting them manage the shipment to New York, the youngest fucking distributors in the history of the group to get that honor. They'd given the product to their American contacts and should have been knee-deep in pussy and coke by now, finding good pizza.

But no, fucking Darko wanted to "see the big apple".

Twat.

Nigel took another bite of both hotdogs. So now, instead of girls and drugs, he was watching his fucking friend, the one he'd seen nearly beat a man to death a week ago, twirling on rented ice skates in the middle of Rockefeller Center. Nigel had fucking refused. He'd put the skates on, he'd taken the disgusting hotdogs Darko had bought them (just floating in water like turds in a toilet), but he'd cut his own balls off before he twirled around an ice rink getting jostled by a group of tourists wearing the same University of Michigan sweatshirts.

"Excuse me."

Nigel turned to tell whoever was bothering him that he would cut their tongue out and use it as toilet paper, but his voice caught in his throat when he saw the most beautiful angel in the world not a foot from his face. The boy had chocolate curls and vivid blue eyes that were darting around as he nervously wrung his little hands together.

It was like the earth moved. In fact, it was just like the earth moved. Nigel didn't realize he was falling until his head hit the ice. Those perfect blue eyes floated over him again as the boy peered at him from the other side of the rink wall.

"Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah, yes, gorgeous I'm fine." He wasn't fine. His fucking head hurt and he was pretty sure he smashed one of those disgusting hotdogs into his last clean shirt. Still, he smiled, trying to look seductive as he struggled to his feet. "What can I do for you darling?"

"Oh, um, your friend over there smacked into me while he was twirling on the ice. He spilled my hot chocolate. He told me to go see you and you'd buy me another or suck my cock..." The boy pursed his lips together. "I'd like a hot chocolate, please."

"You sure you don't want a cock sucking."

"That's not necessary."

"Maybe not, darling, but it's more than welcome."

The boy seemed to consider this. "Maybe after the hot chocolate? It's very loud here, and I find it hard to get aroused when I'm stressed."

"Well let's get you out of here and into some hot chocolate, then, shall we?" Nigel stood. "If you can help me get to that bench, I'll put my shoes on and we can go someplace quiet, drink some hot chocolate and talk about that cock sucking offer."

Nigel held out his arm and to his surprise the boy took it.

"I'm Adam, by the way."

"Nigel. Nice to fucking meet you, Adam."

They toddled toward the skate rental place. Maybe New York wasn't so fucking bad after all.