Archive of Our Own ^beta

The black tuxedo fit him like a glove. The last time he wore something so formal was many years ago. The perfect picture of a groom unveiled before him in the mirror, the man looking back at him. Today is the big day. An opportunity for them, him and his soon bride-to-be, to leave their old lives behind in favour of a future fit for a regular couple. But Will wasn‘t a regular man, and his old life was certainly not one he could leave behind so easily.

Molly wasn‘t without her problems either, but hers were a lot more understandable. Her previous husband had left her with a young son, who would be better off with two parents, while he chased after his heart and a life with another woman.

Not long after that she first met Will. He always treated her with respect, loved and understood animals, especially dogs, which she found attractive, given her love for critters of every kind, kept to himself, unlike the man preceding him, her husband who liked to gloat and hit on others, he seemed perfect...at first glance.

She suspected that Will was masquerading, wearing a mask of sorts when he was with her, but perhaps that was just anxiety from getting into a new relationship so soon after the previous disastrous one.

Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, not screaming or sweating as if he had just woken up from a nightmare, but just sitting there, in bed, next to her, quietly looking at some corner of the room as if he could see something she couldn‘t. She would often wake up in those moments too, not knowing what to do she would just stare at him, until he would eventually stop, apologize, and urge her to go back to sleep. And sometimes, just sometimes it would feel like he could see stuff beyond her humble, normal view even during daytime, lose eye contact and stare off over her shoulder, and make eye contact with something that wasn‘t there, at least not to her.

He interacted with Walter, her most beloved boy, they were polite with each other, but it was clear they didn‘t connect much. Wally must still be too attatched to his biological father, and too bothered by his abscence to let Will in and accept him as a replacement yet. She hoped this would change after the wedding and over a year of living together, make it clear that the boy‘s real father isn‘t coming back.

From time to time, Will would look shaken or lost in thought, but when asked would never share what was tormenting him, telling her it was nothing. But there must have been something, she knew it. He had told her that he used to work with the FBI, catching monsters pretending to be people for them, and that he was involved in a certain case that changed his life‘s trajectory, but that it was all in the past. Feeling unseasy Molly was left with no choice, but to do the only thing she could think of, search up the name Will Graham, and see if anything concerning comes up.

What she found would have shaken most to their core, but Molly wasn‘t like that, she was much braver then people would like to give her credit for. She would not abandon Will. She didn‘t tell him what she found partially because of the concern for his mental well-being, and partially because he proposed the same night and she didn‘t feel like ruining it.

 Whatever happened between him and that man, that thing, must have scarred him for life, physically and psychologically, but she could help him see the light, to be good even if he doesn‘t believe he can be. Its her mission now to give him a normal life, far away from the creature the news articals are so lovingly calling „Hannibal the Cannibal“.

Molly‘s rush to get married again was justifiable and explainable, unlike Will‘s. A desperate attempt to run from himself and his wants, which can be so much more powerful than his needs. He needs to be a good man, a good husband to a good wife. Why? Because that‘s what moral principles on which the world operates demand. The rightious voice he previously thought to be God‘s, chained itself to him, whispering, and when that doesn‘t work yelling, at him to do the right thing. But there is another voice, one more sinister yet somehow more loving, calmly, patiently telling him to give into the carnage, to give into his hearts true desires, to the man that caused him so much pain, but taught him how to feel truly alive.

That voice sounds like Hannibal.

***

Will observed the guests pilling in, one by one finding their seats. He entertained the idea of a marriage before, but never imagined himself actually standing there at the altar, about to give his life away to someone else. How could he? He has already given his life away to something, to someone, else. And his shame was beating him down for it.

Jack, Alana and her wife Margot, as well as several others: students he taught at the academy, colleagues from his killer hunting days, made up his part of the wedding guest list, much shorter than Molly‘s.

Now, waiting for the bride to strut down the aisle, surrounded by shifting movements of the people he barely knew, he noticed something peculliar.

The gentleman sitting in the back row of the church pews looked familliar. Staring right at him was the spitting image of Garret Jacob Hobbs, wearing the same clothes he wore the day Graham ended his life, stained in blood from the bullet wounds Will put in him. As startling of an image as it was, Will didn‘t change his expression, he was good at hiding his feelings behind a facade of calm and collected. The corpse looked at Will and Will looked at the corpse, and then it mouthed something, inaudible, but clear as day – „You see...see?“, and then it was gone with a single blink from Will.

He was used to visions of the horrors he witnessed when he was still active in the field, but he hoped they would stop now that he had his life together or perhaps he didn‘t, but he could never admit that to others, even to himself. So he straigtened up and focused on getting through all this.

But he couldn‘t help but look at the pews again and what he saw was almost enough to overwhelm him completely. Sitting in the third row was Randal Tier, naked and bloody, and his mouth all contorted and stretched, fangs of the prehistoric bear suit sticking out, just like Will had displayed him at the museum where he worked after killing him and taking a piece of him to consume with Hannibal. The row behind him was occupied by Georgia Madchen, the girl he considered a friend and to whom he couldn‘t bring justice to. She was charred and almost unrecognizable, just like Hannibal had left her, burned to crisp for knowing to much.

Will averted his gaze to the seat in which he saw Hobbs. He was sitting there again, smiling as if he knew what was going on. Will didn‘t pay attention to who was sitting near him before, but now he was almost shoulder to shoulder with the prisoner that Chiyoh had killed back in Lithuania or more accurately the man whose death was the result of Will wanting to see if Chiyoh would break her no-kill rule after the person she had kept locked up for years got out and became a threat. Will might not have killed him, but he displayed him like the murder was his, strung him up, made him into an angel of sorts, because he knew that this would mean something, not just to him, not just to Chiyoh, but to Hannibal as well, regardless of whether or not the prisoner played a part in Misha‘s murder. Its astounding, looking back at how many of his actions were made in regard to Hannibal.

All these faces from his past returning all at once, doing nothing, but sitting quietly, attending what should be the happiest moment of his life or at least that‘s what a wedding is to most people. Will dreaded to see the ending to all this, he already suspected whose face he would see as a culmination of this psychological torment he was going through. The face of someone who invaded the most intimate parts of his fracturing mind and built an intricate piece of mental architecture so deep inside his head that destroying it fully is impossible. The face of the man who is partially responsible for all of these deaths.

The uninvited guests didn‘t disappear when Molly started her walk down the aisle, but Will mustered up all of his acting skills to pretend like he didn‘t see them and tried to focus all of his attention on her. She looked truly beautiful, her mother‘s wedding dress was simple in design, but fit her well, truly how a normal bride about to step into a normal marriage should look like.

Walter served as the ring bearer, stood on her side as she walked up the altar stairs, and was finally face-to-face with her soon-to-be husband.

The ceremony had officially begun, and the priest requested them to say their vows. Molly began hers:

„You know how hard these past few years have been to me and Walter, and how much you being there for me– “

It wasn‘t his wish to stop listening, but he couldn‘t help but notice that Walter wasn‘t there anymore, in his stead stood Abigail, fresh red blood pouring down her neck from the gaping wound on her slit throat, and staining the clothes she was wearing during the night she drew her last breath. Melancholy eyes coupled with a reassuring smile, an uncomfortable sight to behold. She was holding the rings as if she knew this was wrong, as if she was happy for him having the opportunity to be content, but knew he was never going to be.

„And I promise I will return the same love to you and keep you balanced even through the most difficult of times, as your friend and as your wife.“

Before he knew it, she was finished, and he missed almost every word. In was now his turn to pledge his vows to her.

„Molly, I have been unbalanced, lost, in need of someone‘s friendship and guidance through all the difficulties I experienced, until I met you. It‘s safe to say that this ceremony is the happiest moment of my life.“ His mind unwillingly jumped to when he first set his sights on Hannibal after almost a year apart in the Uffizi gallery, but he forced those memories out of his head fast enough to not lose his train of thought. „ You are much more than I deserve, and I promise to love and cherish you till death do us part.“

Abigail was still staring at him, and so were the victims of his previous life, but he tried to pay them no attention, they were almost at the end. The priest continued the wedding as proper.

„Do you, Molly, take William to be your lawful husband?“

„I do.“ She responds after a few seconds of silence.

„And do you, William, take Molly to be your lawful wife?“

Will had let his eyes down for a couple of seconds, and when he raised them back up he finally saw what he was fearing he would see since this madness started. He saw him. Standing behind Molly, towering over her, stood Hannibal. Unlike the other unwanted visitors, he wasn‘t dressed in the clothes he last saw him in, the coat he was wearing when Jack arrested him in front of Will‘s old house back in Wolf trap. Instead he was dressed in a tuxedo, that fitted him perfectly. The tux was the same colour as Molly‘s wedding dress, with it he was wearing a formal black shirt and a white bow tie. Odd, but striking colour combination, a white tux instead of a black one, but it would be lying to say that it didn‘t suit him. A sophisticated boutonnière accompanied this look. The same sort of burgundy flowers that Molly used for her bouquet, just in a much fancier arrangement of course.

The thing that stood out the most was the blood covering the entire lower part of his face, running down his neck and tainting the, white as snow, fabric. With it, what appeared to be small pieces of flesh. It was if he had just taken a large bite out of something breathing, made of meat, and gore.

Beautiful, as messed up as it was for Will to think, he was beautiful, the blood couldn‘t change that, only enhance it.

The worst part was that Will knew he wasn‘t real, that he‘s the only one seeing him, seeing him wearing something Will had never seen him wear before, another fragment of his imagination, a special treatment that none of the other visions got.

His eyes unreadable as always staring right into his soul, trying to find company in the deserted parts of Will‘s mind palace, he helped build.

This shook Will internally to the point where it became visible to other wedding attendants.

„I do.“ He said, realising that he stayed silent for too long. This time he could barely rip his eyes away from his vision, but managed. He noted the slight discomfort on Molly‘s face and got on with putting the ring on her finger. When he took her hand in his and the ring in the other, he looked up and as hard as he tried to keep eye contact with his bride, he ended up looking just over her shoulder and directly into Hannibal‘s piercing gaze.

Hannibal was so close, he was almost full-body pressing into Molly. If he were outside the bounds of Will‘s imagination, she would be able to feel him breathing against her neck. Blood from his mouth was dripping onto her, and she couldn‘t even tell that her shoulder was now red.

Afraid to make another overly-long break, Will slid the ring onto her finger and let her slide one on his.

„I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.“

And he did. Not before giving one more quick glance to the blood-soaked man standing behind Molly. He could hear the clapping in the audience. Once he pulled back Hannibal was gone, and so was Abigail. When he and his now-wife turned to their guests, the undead ones were gone as well.

He survived this, he is now a husband to Molly, a real father to Wallter, everything he should want to be. There is no turning back now.

***

He and Molly were alone in their house, in their room. They sent Wally off to spend the night with his aunt, from Molly‘s side of the family of course, so that they could have some alone time after the wedding, as a proper married couple.

All the celebrations should have made them tired, but there was more than enough energy for a private after-party of their own.

They were already undressed. Staring at each other, caressing each other’s nude skin, Molly purposefully avoided the scars, he told her he got during various encounters with murderers, but never went into more detail.

“This is it, we did it, everything is only going to be going uphill from now on.” She breathed out against his lips. Oh how he wished for this to be true, but he knew it couldn't be.

“Hopefully.” He kissed her deeply.

Soon she was in his lap, going up and down, and soon she was on her back, with him moving back and forth, slowly, on top of her. He could feel his hair being pulled, and he could hear her voice panting out his name into the dark. It did feel good, but it didn’t feel like he was having sex with a woman he should be calling his wife.

Their movements shifted and sped up. He laid his head in the pillow underneath, just for a few seconds, he stopped and caught his breath. He raised his head back up only to be greeted with those stunning embers that make that Devil’s face so hard to look away from. Hannibal was beneath him. He is fucking Hannibal Lecter.

Despite the saying that eyes never lie, Hannibal knew how to do it, to lie with his eyes. But this time, he wasn’t lying; he wasn’t hiding anything, pure adoration, loving surrender, was all that he was omitting. He was panting softly, with a gentle smile, not that of malice, but of reasurement on his face, urging him to go on, do what he knew he wanted to do for some time now, even if he felt shameful and dirty because of it.

Anyone else in his position would have stopped, but Will didn’t stop. Instead, even if subconsciously, he gave him the most loving gaze he had all day. One that Molly thought was meant for her. Instead, he placed his hand on her breasts, Hannibal’s chest, caressing it ever so slightly, before sliding it up to the neck and pressing a bit firmer. He knew that what he was seeing wasn’t real, that it was just his hurt mind playing cruel tricks on his vision, but he could pretend that it was. Before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth, leaned down and let it meet Hannibal’s.

Their lips locked, and stayed like that for a moment, soon the intimacy was deepened with the introduction of tongue, and even more so after Will toped it off with a single thrust forward. As a reward, he received a moan directly into his mouth, the voice was undoubtedly Hannibal’s. Will separated them to see if he hadn’t turned back into his wife; he hadn’t. Hannibal was still there, with him, in the most vulnerable position he could be in – naked and at the complete mercy of the man who fantasised about killing him more than once.

So Will continued as before, back and forth, moving his hips; the only thing that had changed was the receiver. The pace was steady, and the noises they let out intertwined together; it became unclear whose pants were whose. In the meek light of the room Will got a good look at his new lover or rather an old one never given the proper chance. He never truly allowed himself to see just how stunning of a man Hannibal was. Sex with men in general was an idea he had entertained, but never committed to, assumed that was simply not his preference, and that those thoughts would pass as a part of that phase. He grew up in the Bible belt, despite not being overly religious now, that still must have affected him more than he gave it credit for.

He pressed another full-mouth kiss onto the man, before feeling that he was being flipped. They changed positions, but instead of it being Hannibal on top of him, it was Molly again. He didn‘t let disappointment take over his face, but he certainly felt it.

They were both close to the finish and she got off and sank lower. Eye contact broke as she teased, kissing his hipbones and all around his cock. He couldn‘t help, but throw his head back, and after he lowered it again it was Hannibal‘s eyes he met once more. Teasing, tearing hip apart slowly, his right hand gently stroking him, his left one brushing Will‘s inner thigh, soft lips pressing kisses up from his base to his tip, leaking, almost there. He took it into his mouth, unlike Molly his eyes remained on Will‘s as he did so. He began moving his head up and down, flickering into Molly and then back. It felt like he was turning into Molly and not the other way around, despite her being the one who was actually there. He felt more real, more like he belonged there.

It took Will all his power to not shout Hannibal‘s name when he came. Instead he shouted nothing at all, just gasped out loudly. Hannibal was gone, Molly was on the floor, from the sounds of it, happy that she could make him this worked up, if only she knew the truth.

Once they cleaned up, they laid in each other‘s embrace, she was tired, asleep by now, if the wedding party didn‘t do her in, then this definetely did. But he couldn‘t sleep, he didn‘t know if he hoped to see that dammed man in his dreams, or maybe nightmares, or not. There was plenty wrong with him, that he knew. He dreamed about a man, another man, was turned on by him more than his own wife, what made the situation even more difficult was that the man‘s name was Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal the bloody cannibal.

He is still out there, locked up under Chilton‘s and Alana‘s care, in their overdesinged nuthouse, The Baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane. He did say he wanted Will to always know where he was. Maybe one day, he will start up his car and instead of going back home, he will take a detour, to visit an old friend...no, more than just a friend. But that is uncertain, the only thing that is clear now is that he is lying here with a woman whom he regreted taking to the altar just for the night, perhaps the first of many yet to come.