#bottom!will graham

[love-songs-for-emma]

they call me freddie lounds with the way i be constantly reporting on these bots

[highermagic]

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

Post-Fall Addams Family Inspired One-Shot | Patreon | Ko-Fi

Will hums, and says, "You knew I would choose her." His eyes lift, from memory irrelevant to the here, to the now. They slide, past hips, past chest, to meet his monster's dark, tender gaze. "The second you saw her, you knew I would see her. That I would act."

"In your righteousness, I am somewhat able to predict you," Hannibal concedes. Will supposes that is fair – they've had a long, long time to learn each other, bone to skin now. Perhaps deeper, where the soul lies. They are both intimately aware of each piece of sinew, each tendon, each artery a human body holds, and Will still has yet to figure out where the soul is meant to sit.

Will smiles, off-kilter, his cheeks dimpling. His right one dips in twice; flesh and scar. He leans back on the bed, to his elbows, shows Hannibal the long line of himself, only barely clinging to modesty with a strip of Rorschach-red sheets pooled in his lap.

"You don't like that I recall her so easily," he whispers. Hannibal has gravitated to him, the iron in his chest pulled to the rotating, molten core in Will. Their compass points change, their stars align. Hannibal's hand reaches out, grazes Will's knee with fingers so reverent they almost hurt. "You don't like that I used my hands."

He lifts one, showing the stain, the fine yellowish rise of his fingerprint, the crease of lighter pink where his knuckles have curled, where the blood has smeared. Around his nails, it looks brown. In the darkness, his palms are black.

"Were you jealous?" he whispers.

Oh, but jealous is not the word. That implies threat, implies competition, and Hannibal needs not worry about either. Still, his nostrils flare, and there's a soft bulge in his jaw when he says;

"I'll confess, darling, that I would rather your hands never touched another living thing."

[highermagic]

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

Hannigram | Complete | NC-17

Summary:

What happens when a group of serial killers pick the absolute worst targets? Will is already having a pretty rough night, since Hannibal proposed to him and Will said 'No' for reasons he still hasn't quite figured out yet. It's not their fault - they couldn't have known - but sometimes people have to learn lessons the hard way, and Will could definitely use some stress relief.

Excerpt:

Hannibal smiles, more genuine this time. He enjoys toying with Will, no matter the circumstance. "Perhaps it would be good for us," he says, and Will frowns, brow furrowing. "Clearly the amount of affection each of us share is one-sided, or at least out of balance. I have an abundance of it. It's selfish to demand it all for yourself and then discard it at the same time."

Will grits his teeth, setting the wine glass down lest he break it. He bows his head and rests both hands on the back of the chair, locking his elbows and hissing. "I knew you were angry," he says. His eyes go to the ring box and he lets out another frustrated growl. "You think I don't love you?"

"I'm not sure how to look at what you feel for me," Hannibal replies.

"How to look at…" Will shakes his head, huffs a bitter breath, and raises his eyes. "This isn't some Goddamn Rorschach test, Doctor Lecter. Don't make this any more than what it is."

"And what is that, Will?" Hannibal asks. He has his hands on the back of the chair where Will was sitting, mirroring Will as Will glares at him. Will thinks he can see a hint of amusement flicker in his dark eyes. He has always loved toying with Will.

"I…" Will looks down again, straightening up, and he heaves a tired breath and closes his eyes. His throat feels tight and his head is hot. He rubs a hand over his forehead and his nails catch on the scar Hannibal left behind with his saw. He swallows harshly. "I never wanted to hurt you," he says. "I'm too tired to play these games right now."

Hannibal huffs, and Will sees he's smiling when he opens his eyes. "I have finally found the end of your cruelty, then," he murmurs.

"And yours continues to abound," Will whispers. He meets Hannibal's gaze, helpless. Hannibal's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with the first flickers of pleasure. "Have you no mercy for the man you claim to love?"

"Mercy? Some, yes," Hannibal says. He straightens up as well and circles the table, taking Will's hands in both of his. He raises Will's knuckles to a kiss and Will presses his lips together, fingers curling around Hannibal's, his eyes wide and searching. "Love? Limitless."

Will swallows. "Show me," he breathes, and Hannibal lets go of his hands. Will's finds their place naturally on Hannibal's chest, curling in his shirt as Hannibal cups his neck with one hand, his other sliding effortlessly into Will's hair and knotting gently. He pulls Will in and Will is helpless to resist him.

[highermagic]

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

Hannigram | Explicit | 6k

Werewolf!Will AU

Hannibal and Will have an arrangement. Hannibal doesn't ask where the blood and the bodies come from, and Will doesn't ask what happens to them when he's a human again.