• Hannibal: Will, your mind is incredible
  • Hannibal: you're so intuitive
  • Hannibal: here have some soup
  • Hannibal: take care of yourself, Will
  • Hannibal: Will, you're too handsome for that aftershave here I bought you a new one
  • Hannibal: your shirt makes your eyes so blue, Will
  • Hannibal: here I drew a portrait of you, you can have it, I have 49 more
  • Will:
  • Hannibal: *coughs* for practice of course
  • Hannibal: art requires time and practice
  • Will: I see
  • Hannibal: *stares*
  • Will: ...why are you always so nice to me?
  • Hannibal: wh-
  • Hannibal: I'm not being nice I'm being GAY
  • Will: ?? OH
  • Hannibal: *sighs*

Don’t imagine Hannibal daydreaming about Will.

Don’t imagine hannibal running his hands through Wills hair.

Don’t imagine hannibal kissing Wills neck.

Don’t imagine hannigram holding hands.

Don’t imagine Will unbuttoning hannibals shirt.

Don’t imagine hannigram kissing roughly.

Don’t imagine hannibal kissing Wills forehead.

Don’t imagine it. Just dont.

hannibal ficlet - post cliffdive

The salt of the water stung Will’s sinuses, burned its way down his throat when he tried to gasp. He still felt like he was falling, but now he was also drowning. He opened his eyes and they stung too, but he could see the dark form of Hannibal above him, around him, sinking down with him. Hannibal’s eyes were looking back, like black holes in a galaxy. His hands had moved to grip Will’s throat. It was tender and condemning, loving and final. Water filled Will’s mouth, and then so did Hannibal’s tongue.

He drowned.


He woke gasping and choking, trying to swallow down the salt burn in his throat.

“You fainted, Will,” Hannibal’s voice said from somewhere nearby, and it sounded amused, fond. “How very damsel in distress of you.”

It was blood running down his throat. Not salt water. The stars in the night sky stared down at him from above, and firm paved ground lay beneath him, not ocean. His face and shoulder were flooded with agony.

Will turned his head and saw Hannibal standing hunched near the cliff’s edge, bare-chested and bloodied in the moonlight. There was a gentle clink of metal, a soft hiss of pain, and then Hannibal’s form loomed above him, blotting out the stars.

“Where’d your shirt go?” Will’s voice was fluid-logged and slurry. He was still struggling to pull his mind out of the dream, the fantasy, of going off the cliff. Of sinking under the water. Under Hannibal. He hadn’t. They hadn’t.

Hannibal smiled, a red-wet flash in the darkness, his partial nakedness making him seem all the more primal, predatory. He reached down to grasp Will’s good arm. “Put to better use,” he said, and pulled Will dizzyingly upright. Will saw that Hannibal had folded the shirt up in a compact square and strapped it to his stomach wound by cinching his dress belt around his waist. Dots of blood were beginning to seep through the fabric. It matched the blood streaking across Hannibal’s mouth. His mouth would taste of it, just as Will’s did.

It wasn’t just the fall or the drowning that was twisting in Will’s brain. It was the feel, the power of Hannibal’s kiss, phantom though it was. It had all felt so real, as real as standing on solid ground and grasping Hannibal’s arm did now.

“We must leave.”

Clinging to Hannibal’s bare skin made him think about drowning again, about Hannibal’s tongue in his mouth and how it had felt more invasive that the water in his lungs. But no, that was all wrong. He didn’t drown, they didn’t fall, they hadn’t kissed. He’d thought about killing Hannibal, but he’d never thought about kissing Hannibal, before they’d killed together.

The water, the drowning. The kiss. This could be the dream. It felt less real, less right, than falling off the cliff.

Hannibal’s hands were suddenly cupping Will’s face, making Will look at him. “Will. You’ve done so well tonight. Now we must go.”

Their faces were so close together he could smell the blood on Hannibal’s breath. It was at once intoxicating and repulsive, and so similar to the dream still playing over in Will’s mind. Will knew what he had to do, then. To decide whether this was some kind of afterlife dreamstate, or reality. He reached up and cupped Hannibal’s blood-sticky cheek, drew him down so that his mouth covered Will’s own. Will felt Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath, a rare indication of surprise, and used that moment to invade Hannibal’s mouth just as had been done to him, underwater. Will was amazed to find that Hannibal allowed it, allowed Will to breach his defenses so easily. That wasn’t like the dream at all. It occurred to him that perhaps Hannibal had done that all along with Will, made allowances, risks, that he otherwise wouldn’t have. It gave Will sense of power, not unlike killing the Great Red Dragon together had.

It didn’t feel like drowning at all.

Interviewer: “We always see with this character, there’s a little bit of this dark underbelly pulling him towards Hannibal and towards what Hannibal represents.”

Hugh: *places his hand on his belly where Will would have the scar Hannibal gave him*

Can we talk about the fact that Hugh did that? That he places his hand where Hannibal left a scar on Will and where Hannibal clung to Will’s shirt in the final scene of The Wrath of the Lamb? Like, Hugh hears ‘belly’ and ‘Hannibal’ and ‘pulling towards’ and he reacts with that gesture. Let’s talk about that gesture because look at the way he does it with that caress and how he makes a little grabbing motion and how he bounces his leg. 

Someone? Anyone? I just, I really, really need us to talk about this ok?? 

Epistolary Romance

Based on a prompt. I lost the prompt source, but saved the prompt? Partial credit, I suppose. The gist was this Hannibal and Will leaving each other notes. 

         Hannibal paused by Will’s bedroom door. A heap of clothes were lumped into the middle of Will’s mattress. Hannibal squinted, there was the shirt he had just laundered – and the pair of slacks. He pressed his lips together, Will must have grabbed the clothes from the dryer and chucked them onto the bed on his way out the door.

         Hannibal stood in Will’s doorway, fingers lightly tapping the jamb. He probably shouldn’t enter Will’s room, it would be a bit of a violation. He turned to leave, but thought about Will, his beautiful rumpled boy who always look like he pulled his wardrobe from beneath a tire.

         With a firm shake of his head, Hannibal strode with purpose up to the pile. Will may not take care in his appearance, but that didn’t mean Hannibal couldn’t. He smoothed out each item of clothing, shaking out the wrinkles before meticulously folding each garment.

         When three neat stacks of clothes were arranged on Will’s dresser, Hannibal surveyed the rest of Will’s room. The bed was unmade. The area rug was turned up at the corner. The lamp shade twisted at an odd angle on Will’s nightstand and somehow every picture frame in the room was askew.

         Honestly, how on earth could one person cause so much disorder in one day?

         Hannibal thought back to their weeks on the run. Will had been so conscientious, carefully cleaning wounds and checking stitches. Even back in Wolf Trapp, Will had kept his home in ordered chaos. Everything had its place, and was covered in dog hair. This sort of behavior seemed odd.

         Grimacing, Hannibal set about restoring order to Will’s room.

         On his way out, Hannibal straightened one final picture, an awful oil painting of a German pointer Will had fallen in love with at the flea market. There was resistance when he tried to move the frame. Carefully, Hannibal felt behind the frame, finding tape. He pulled coming away with a scrap of paper stuck to his fingers. He squinted at Will’s chicken scratch handwriting.

         Persnickety fussbudget

         Hannibal’s mouth twisted into a grin.

Keep reading

So I’m casually meandering my way through the Hannibal Auction pages, my soul low-key shriveling up as my eyes soak up the current prices, and I see that shirt Hannibal wore while playing the piano in his apartment in Florence. 

You know, the ‘ugly’ one:

(See? Even Hannibal regrets his fashion choice!)

And I thought to myself, “Gee, I wonder what the actual pattern of that God-awful thing is?  I mean, it’s so dark, I can’t tell what I’m looking at…let’s take a look!”

So I open the little linky thingy and:

Lake?  Mountains?  BOATS?!?  

Hannibal Lecter, a serial-killing cannibal ‘who don’t need no man’, is dressing up for his ex-not-boyfriend-but-still-soulmate, Will Graham.

anonymous asked:

I have no idea if you're still doing fluff therapy but I just got some really terrible news and I found out my grandma is in the hospital. If you wrote some cuddly fluff that would make my day ❤

Hello nonny, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandma. I lost my grandma a couple weeks ago and I know how hard it is. You and your family are in my thoughts. Here is a bit of sweetness for you. I hope it helps. <3

Will woke to the taste of salt on his tongue, a cool breeze coasting over his skin. He’d made love to Hannibal out on the patio, and after they’d fallen asleep tangled up together on the chaise. Now, Will was alone in the dark and shivering.


Will padded naked through the open doors and into the kitchen. His eyes searched the dark for Hannibal, coming up empty. Just as he was about to reach for the light, Hannibal wrapped around him from behind.

Will startled, but settled at once. “Where did you go?”

“I was only gone a moment. Fetching a blanket.” Hannibal slipped the blanket around Will’s shoulders and spun him around.

Will squinted against the dark. “You put on clothes.”

“Is that not acceptable?”

Will smiled and wrapped Hannibal up in the blanket with him, nuzzling into his neck. “It is not.”

Will lead Hannibal back to the patio and sprawled out on the chaise. “I want to feel your skin,” he said. “Come on.”

In the soft light of the moon, Hannibal slipped his shirt above his head and tossed it to the ground. He gazed down at Will, skin illuminated in silver flame. He shoved his pants and underwear down, kicked them away, and Will welcomed him with open arms.

Cocooned in the blanket together, WIll pulled Hannibal close against his chest. Their skin warmed with the heat of one another.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” Will mumbled into Hannibal’s hair.

“Would you care for something to eat, then?”

“No.” Will held Hannibal closer still, curving one leg around his thigh. “This is nice. Stay with me.”

In the distance, waves crashed. The night closed in around them, cool breeze and warm skin and salted air. Something delicate and unspoken broke between their bodies, an understanding, melding in the tandem drumming of their hearts. Breath flowed from Hannibal’s lips to Will’s mouth. The moon’s light folded beneath the clouds. Darkness held them as they held each other.

[hannigram fluff therapy]

anonymous asked:

There's a prompt that I thought about, maybe you'll be interested? Bedannibal are forced to sleep in one room when they first met.

what do you think: Bedelia first night spent in Hannibal shirt, because she forgot anything else to sleep in? I love your sweet writing <3 

Thank you dear anons! ♥ I am sorry this took so long. I have combined the two prompts into one very tropey fic. I was saving this story for @electric-couple prompt challenge. Enjoy!

Arrangement between colleagues

“I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do.”

Bedelia has lost count of how many times she has heard that sentence today. She stares at the young brunette behind the front desk; her eyes are sharp like a pair of polished sapphires, making the woman uncomfortable, but Bedelia does not care.

This day has been the most absurd one she has ever experienced. She left Chicago that morning after a rather boring conference, but now it appears it had been the highlight of her weekend. She landed safely, yet her luggage did not, lost somewhere in the Chicago airport. On top of that her connecting flight had been cancelled.

Now she faces a night in this unpleasant airport with no prospects of finding a room.

“I am sure there is another hotel,” Bedelia’s voice is calm, but laced with ice shards, piercing with every word.

“I’m sorry- “the woman hesitates to utter those words again, “There are only two and they are both fully booked.” Her smile is meant to be professional, but now it’s only nervous.

Bedelia is preparing to ask to speak to the manager; she knows it won’t do much good, but she is determined to exhaust all options. This day cannot get any worse.

“Dr Du Maurier?” She thought wrong.

Continue reading on ao3

I Enjoy Your Company

Name/URL: worthypie
Fandom: hannibal
Genre: fluff
Comments: this is a hannibal x reader fic I wrote for myself a while ago :)

Warnings: slight mention of murder, otherwise none. unless you consider exercise a trigger ;)

Word count: 915


       I woke up to what sounded like eight birds blaring their song, so I sprung out of my bed to slam the window, just to realize it’s only 6:30 in the morning. Begrudgingly, you stomp your way downstairs into the kitchen to find your dashing host fixing you breakfast. “Ah! Finally awake, I see? I’m thoroughly surprised those chicks didn’t wake you earlier,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Aw, I didn’t know they hatched! I hope I didn’t scare them out of the nest by slamming the window.” “Well, (Y/N), we can go out later and make sure that didn’t happen. But for now you need to eat before your food gets cold.” I moved to the stool behind the island where he set my food down across from him, where he was making his own breakfast.

      Hannibal Lecter and I have been good friends for the past few years, we worked together in the medical field before he left to focus on psychiatry. We lost contact for a little while after I moved to Canada for a job opportunity, but I moved back to the States when I was asked to become part of the criminal science team in Quantico, Virginia for the FBI. Hannibal happened to be there the same day I arrived, and things kicked off from there. He had invited me for dinner last night, and in our time having fun, I may have had a little too much to drink, and as much as I wanted to go home, Hannibal offered his guest room to me. So, naturally, I passed out on his couch. “How are you feeling this morning? You had quite a meal last night, can imagine anyone who drank that much would be in a very different mindframe the next morning,” he said with the same sly smirk he always wears. “Well it may surprise you that I am no lightweight, plus the amazing hospitality from my host helps too. Thank you.” “It was my pleasure. Now, what is on our agenda today? I need to let you know, I must stop by my butcher’s shop later this afternoon, and you are welcome to come, only if you are comfortable in doing so.” I immediately stopped my chewing, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He hasn’t asked me to go “hunting” with him in a while, not that I ever could I’m far too moral for that. “I appreciate the offer, but I actually have some errands to run this afternoon. Maybe some other time, when I’m ready?” A pang of disappointment glimmered through his eyes for a split second before guilt replaced it. “Not to worry, I completely understand, I’m sorry for having pressured you. But we could go for a jog through the park if you like?” “Sounds wonderful! Let me run home and change my clothes and I’ll meet you out there, okay?” He smiled a rare toothy smile, “Of course, (Y/N).”


I was stretching when I heard a car pull up behind me. I turned and waved to the shorts-and-t-shirt clad Hannibal, who was also carrying two water bottles. “I checked on the birds before I left, four healthy baby robins are now hatched and with their mother,” he said as he handed me a water bottle. “I think you may have scared them out of their eggs when you slammed the window.” I laughed at him, he may not have much of a sense of humor, but he has his moments with puns and insults that go over many people’s heads. “Well, are you ready?” I asked. “Only when you are!” “Alright then, let’s go!” We started off at an easy pace, sharing bits of conversation as time went on. As our talking died down, I thought of a devious idea. I slowed down until I was nearly at a stop, pretending to have a stitch in my side. Hannibal jogged back to me, “Are you okay?” “Yeah…fine….just needed to-..to take a breather.” I fake panted back. “In all of the years I’ve known you, I have never known you to take a break,” he stated, beginning to jog ahead of me. “WELL YOU’RE RIGHT ABOUT THAT!” I broke into a dead sprint down the sidewalk we were running on, trying to get to the 2 mile mark before him. I heard him laugh, but then I heard his footsteps quicken and become louder, so I pushed myself harder. My lungs started to burn but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of winning, not after all this time. We were both pushing and shouting at each other trying to knock the other one off course, but I dodged one of his pushes and his momentum carried him off course. “Ha ha! I win! In your fa- OOF!!” “Not quite!” Hannibal tackled me and began to furiously tickle me to the point of almost passing out. We both laid on the grass, our laughter quietly dying down to a comfortable silence. I closed my eyes feeling the suns rays tickle my face, when I felt a hand close around mine. “I enjoy your company, (Y/N). This was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he said with that same smirk. “I had fun too, Hannibal. We should do this again sometime,” I said back with a goofy smile on my face. “Soon hopefully,” he said, as he kissed my hand.


Hope you liked it!