#alpha!will graham

[stutteringandmumbling]

Oooh I'm a happy camper tonight, I just found a fic with Alpha!Will and Omega!Hannibal and it's a royalty/arranged marriage AU I'm gonna have lots of fun reading this tonight 😁😁😁

[highermagic]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Hannibal and Will are leaders of allied gangs, and were friends at one point - until Hannibal almost killed Will and sent him to prison. Now he needs Will's pack, his numbers, to stop his own pack being overrun. Will might never trust him again, but there's no reason they cannot keep things professional. At least, that's what Hannibal tells himself, as he enters the BSHCI to ask for Will's help.

[highermagic]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The first chapter of Daydreamer and the Shadow Man part three is up!

"Hey, short-stop!" Will blinks in surprise. It's Chris – Will's cousin, who Will had stayed with, along with Chris' father, after his own father had died. They haven't really spoken in years aside from exchanging Christmas cards and the kinds of gifts people give when they don't really know what the other person likes, like cologne and flower arrangements and coupons for whiskey tasting.

Will still remembers how it felt to have his first shot of Fireball, sat by his drunken, black-eyed and split-lipped cousin on his little bed, and he hopes Chris' tastes have improved somewhat.

"Um. Hey," Will says, clearing his throat and remembering himself just a beat after the silence stretches on too long. "Chris. Wow. It's been a while."

"Too long, my man, way too long," Chris replies, with the casual drawl that would suggest they're a lot closer than they actually are. Even when Will lived with them, their age difference and relatively late involvement as pseudo-brothers meant they led very separate lives. "Hey, what are you doin' weekend after next?"

Will's brow creases. "Um. Nothing that I know of. Why?"

"Well y'see, this sweet-sounding lady called me up last night, right? Said she was a friend of yours and was telling me all this super interesting stuff, like how you're apparently getting married and I thought 'Gee, that's kind of weird. Seems like the kind of thing me'n'my dad would'a been told about', you know?"

Will winces, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and, silently, pushes a curse to the back of his teeth. "Oh." He clears his throat. "Well, yeah, that's true. I mean, about a wedding. But we don't even have a date yet – I was going to send out invitations when we did." Which isn't entirely untrue. Will and Hannibal haven't set a date – or rather, if there is a date, Will is blissfully unaware of it, because Hannibal knows the idea of planning something like this makes him want to behave in a way certainly unfit for polite company.

"Mhm." Chris' tone isn't exactly convinced, but he's enthusiastic enough when he brushes past it. "Well, not exactly my point. You're getting married, and I don't even know the lucky lady's name!"

Will swallows. "His name is Hannibal," he says.

[highermagic]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

"Single Omega household seeking a primary caretaker for high-school aged female. Must own vehicle for chauffeuring, errands, and other duties as necessary. Room and board provided, and a stipend for necessities available for negotiation. Must have open availability and be willing to submit to a background check and drug test. Immediate start." Then a name, and a phone number. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

He cannot say what made him decide to call. Maybe a desperate need to fill the endless void of his days, currently. Maybe because he'd have to sell his house to cover the damn hospital bills and funeral expenses. Maybe because taking care of an Omega is something he's been doing for years, now, and the idea of a daughter that is already fully-formed, to watch over, will soothe the awful ache in his chest seeking something to take care of. Maybe it was a whim, a stroke of chance, that led him down this path. 

First chapter is up!

[highermagic]

Sweet Tooth

Hannigram ABO D/s AU

When Hannibal feels the first sharp sting of it, he is, fortunately, alone.

In his study, the fire blazing bright despite the overly-warm weather outside, he shifts his weight, a tendril of warmth that has nothing to do with the fire running from the base of his neck to the small of his back. It dances down his spine, falls and curls like a rope artist in a circus, settles low in his belly. His fingers tremble, and clench around the stem of his wine glass, and he looks up from his book and sets his eyes on the fire.

"…Interesting," he murmurs.

He says it the same way a commander might order to drop a bomb on a city. He sets his glass down, carefully, and waits until the sensation goes away. He curls his fingers up tightly, rests his fists on his thighs, and forces his hands flat against the soft material of his suit pants. They slide down to his knees, then back up, and he breathes out as the feeling fades like a contraction.

The clock on the mantle reads that it's just past ten at night. He has several hours before his natural sleep patterns are due to rear their head, but he feels abruptly drained, and tired, as he has come to expect from his thorough research on the subject. It is, unfortunately, an unavoidable trick of biology, but one he had not expected for several more years.

He pushes himself to his feet, wine forgotten, and goes to his appointment book. He has several patients scheduled over the next few days, and on the next page noting the beginning of the new week, he circles the date and makes a note to keep that week clear.

He will be in no condition to tender and cater to his patients, if he even makes it that far.

He has prepared for this, of course. No self-respecting Omega of his stature and skill would deign to let themselves be taken by surprise. Although, again, he has not expected his final heat to approach for some time, it is one of those occurrences people prepare for like Doomsday. He has plans, and bags packed, and knows what he will need to do, to make sure he makes it through the ordeal with minimal discomfort.

The first step will be to hunt, to stock his fridge and his stores so he will not go hungry.

The second step will be to find a suitable companion.

Read the rest on AO3.

[highermagic]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 1/3 | WIP | Hannigram ABO 

Summary:

After Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Will can't reconcile Abigail's death. He's done - with all of it. He needs to escape, to return to the only place he has ever felt safe and wanted. That place ends up being a sleepy town on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, where he spent one summer as a child, exchanging riddles and letters with his dearest friend: the Shadow Man.

Notes:

Happy Omegaverse day! This work is thoroughly tagged and noted but I am more than happy to answer any questions regarding it based off of the tags and notes on the first chapter.

Excerpt:

"That was some good police work out there, Will."

"It didn't feel like good work," Will says, sullen and withdrawn. He hasn't slept in what feels like days. How can he, when as soon as he closes his eyes, all he can see is the gush of her blood staining his hands, the terrified and trusting look in her eyes? She had believed he could save her, right up until the light went out while he screamed himself hoarse calling for a medic.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. You've saved the lives of countless future victims."

"I don't care," Will hisses. Jack had followed him to his home, when it had gone three days without answering his phone calls. "I'm done."

"Done?" Jack's eyes flash, flickering red with anger. Will's head feels too hot and one of his dogs, he can barely see which one, licks his hand. It's probably Winston. He's a good boy. "You can't be done."

"And yet."

"What will do you?"

"I'm leaving," Will says. His bags have been packed for days. He doesn't want to take much with him. The listing sign at the end of his driveway should have been a clue – is Jack really that willfully blind? "I'm done with this. You borrowed my imagination and now I'm taking it back."

"There are other killers out there, Will," Jack growls. "Ones only you can catch."

"Yeah, well. Find someone else." Jack's snarl could have rattled the resolve of a grizzly bear, but Will won't budge on this. Her eyes pierce him like the wound in his shoulder, dealt by Hobbs after he'd slit his daughter's throat. Will could have shot him – he should have shot him – but his rage had gotten the best of him and now his shoulder is all fucked up and it will take a while to heal, but it will heal. "If the killers are smart enough to outwit you, I say let them."

"Where will you go?"

Will sighs. He's starting to get tired. The painkillers he's on tend to knock him out. "Away," he replies.