#remember when the teacup got poisoned? that was so poisoning his teacup core

[skitter-queen]

we as a twigblr can make Mauer's Poisoned Teacup one of the most memorable and iconic parts of the entire book. i believe in us. one year from now new twig readers will say "well all i really know is its a 'biopunk' setting with like funny evil kids, and jessie is there, and at some point sy poisons the preacher's teacup", and when that day comes the world will be truly beautiful

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Scars (Smut)

Scars

Summary: You hadn't seen Will ever since the day he left you to chase Hannibal in Florence, finding out after a while that he got married to someone else. But with the murders of the tooth fairy, Jack asked him to come back to help, and he couldn't stay away anymore, showing up for a visit. Will the old scars of your heart burst open in new wounds or heal completely?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, swearing, spoilers from season 3.

Word count: 3.381

A/n: this is the first smut I write in English, it's not my first language, so I hope it's alright. Any mistakes or anything, just let me know. This is another one with my boi Will, I just love him so much AAAAAA

As I read The Wuthering Heights for the hundredth time sitting in the living room, I heard someone ring the doorbell. I sighed, staring at the clock. It was still early. The person I was expecting would just come in, after all, Alana was a close friend and she knew she was allowed to do so. I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't expecting anybody else.

My dog, Sally, started to bark thunderously, sniffing under the door. I closed the book lethargicly, rolling my eyes as I got up the couch in a lazy mood, walking to the door and opening without asking who was outside, realizing perhaps too soon it was a mistake.

Will Graham stared at me, a light smile in his handsome face that didn't reach his eyes. I felt like something was twitching my stomach, and probably turned albescent. I hadn't seen him in over three years. Alana warned me he was back in town to work on the tooth fairy's case, but I didn't think he would stop by for a visit. Not after so long. 

"Good to see you, Y/n." He tried, obtaining no response of mine. "I… I was just around the neighborhood and I wanted to see you. It's been a while."

"Who gave you my address?" I retorted, probably sounding more hostile than I intended.  He stepped back, scratching the back of his neck, probably already regretting the impulsive idea. 

"Jack."

"Of course he did. What else did he tell you?"

"Was there anything else he should've told me?" I searched his face for any sign of emotions, but didn't get anything that could tell me what he was feeling. The old Will was someone I could always read, no matter what. After Hannibal came along, he just started to show less and less emotions, till his face became a cold mask, his deep eyes empty, opaque. I missed the sweet, caring Will. 

I was just standing there, silent. Sally found some space between my legs and managed to get out the house, launching at Will, wagging her tail and trying to get close enough of his ears so she could lick them. Will laughed lightly, crouching down to pet her. 

"Who's this?" He asked, scratching behind her ears. I crossed my arms, I gave everything to that dog, undying love, a bed, high quality food, and now she backstabs me. 

"That's Sally. She's a stray I took in one year and a half ago. Sally, sweetheart, come inside." I whistled once and she obeyed, running through my legs again. I sighed, stepping away from the door so he could come in. Maybe he wouldn't stay for long if I just let him in. He hesitated, but entered, passing through me. I could smell the air as he passed, he still used the same aftershave. That hurt even more, and I could feel my eyes watering a little. Why did he have to come? Why was he here? What does he want? 

I tried to hide it, opening the kitchen door so Sally could play in the backyard, then walking to the sideboard where I kept whisky.

"Would you like some?" I inquired, still not feeling safe enough to face him. "I'm pouring myself one."

"Sure. Please. Neat." He replied, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching every single movement I made. That made my hands tremble a bit, and I cursed in a whisper when I spilled a little bit of the drink. So fucking clumsy. 

I finally faced him when I felt my eyes get dryer, smiling lightly as I gave him the glass of whisky, neat. Our fingers touched a bit and I sat beside him, albeit a little far, taking a long sip of my glass. We stayed like that for a few minutes, two strangers that used to know each other, love each other. My eyes traveled through his face and I distinguished some new scars, probably from the great encounter with Hannibal Lecter and Mason Verger​ a few years ago. I remembered the way I used to kiss every single scar he had, I loved every part of Will, his scars were part of his story, part of who he was. 

He lowered his eyes for a moment, smiling as he saw the book standing on the coffee table.

"Is it still your favorite? Wuthering Heights." He grabbed the book, opening the first page. There was the name I didn't use anymore. Y/n Graham. He gave me that edition as a Christmas gift a long time ago, and I couldn't get rid of it, fantasizing that after such a long time, I could still feel Will's scent in it. 

"Undoubtedly. Every time I read it it's like the first. Except maybe now it's even more bitter." I avoided facing him, staring at the book, suddenly feeling pretty silly. He didn't ask. He knew why. 

"I suppose Heathcliff's still your favorite character."

"Now more than even, guess I finally understand his suffering." I regretted sounding so harsh, but it was said now. Will clenched his jaw.

"So you're saying I'm your Catherine?"

"I don't know. Am I?" I teased, hugging my body protectively. "Why are you here, Will? Why did you have to come? To torment me? You left three years ago after I begged you to stay, you just had to go after Hannibal, pursue your hunt. I allowed you to go, but I couldn't be there when you returned. I didn't even know you would return alive or if I would see a miserable Jack Crawford knocking on my door with grief in his face. I wouldn't bear it. So I left, but I kept expecting you to come find me if you ever got back. Then, Hannibal was finally arrested. I thought it was finally over, but you never came. You left again, and a while later I heard…"

My eyes traveled through his hands and I saw it. The wedding ring. That hurt so much I finally felt tears wetting my face, and dismissed them quickly with one hand.

"So it is true. You did get married." My voice sounded venomous, sharp as a knife. "Lucky girl. We didn't even get to that stage. Engagement was the maximum."

He was silent, allowing me to vent. As I haven't done that a lot with Alana already. His eyes were finally wet, finally some emotion on his face. That handsome face. That face I would never get tired of. I wanted to kiss them away, hold him and tell him everything would be okay, but it wouldn't. That teacup would never gather itself up again. We were two broken souls. 

"I thought you wouldn't want me anymore. I wasn't the man you once met, the man you fell for, I was no longer good for you, if I ever have been. Hannibal changed me in ways you could never understand, ways even I don't understand."

"Hannibal changed all of us. Like a poison ivy that found its way into our cores and grew roots there. I can still feel his damage inside me, like… A cancer. It spreads. It tastes like metal at the tip of my tongue. I saw his face in my dreams for a very long time after you left. I still see him sometimes, not necessarily in my dreams…" I stopped talking as he grabbed my hand, caressing the palm with his thumb. I realized how much I missed his hands. They were a little rough due to how much he worked with them, but it never bothered me. It was ridiculous how much he could still affect me with a single touch, a look. 

"I wanted to start over. Leave everything behind. I wanted to… Flee from that darkness that nested me. But it followed me, as it does wherever I go. I wanted someone pure, so it could contain it, or even diminish it. But you, Y/n… You never left my mind. I could never suppress you." He raised his hand, touching my cheek with cold, pale fingers. That touch made me close my eyes, his voice working like a balsam inside of me. I sighed, totally giving in. 

Will got closer, his lips touching mine with such delicacy. I touched his hair, grabbing some on the back of his neck, pulling it lightly. That made him release a low groan, as the kiss started to get deeper. I moved my body, wanting to stay as close to him as the laws of physics allowed, and when I felt his tongue touch mine, fireworks eclode from my chest, my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's. 

I still loved him, of course I did. I never stopped. All the bitterness he left with his departure started to boil on my chest, becoming something else, something I couldn't figure out yet. His lips moved from mine to my neck, and I moaned a little louder, sinking my nails on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to my thigh and I allowed myself to lie down on the couch, pulling him with me. He lifted my leg and I embraced his waist with them, feelings mixtured inside my chest. That was wrong, he was a married man now. He had a wife waiting for him back home. 

But, for a moment while he stared at me, our foreheads glued together, I saw my Will in his eyes. I saw the Will I first met, the socially awkward man Alana introduced me years ago and couldn't even stare me in the eyes, the kind, caring man I once knew. One single tear fell from his eye, and I knew he was probably conflicted as well. I kissed it away, kissing his lips again, a deep, slow kiss that made my insides chiver. I needed him so much. Even if it was just one time. Just for today. I needed that kind of closure.

I unbottoned his shirt, sinking my fingers into the skin of his biceps. He threw it on the floor, going for my clothes, and I thanked myself mentally for a moment for wearing a dress. He'd seen it before, he'd taken it off many times. He lifted the piece of clothing above my head and I threw it away gladly, kissing his neck while opening his pants. He kicked off his shoes, doing the same with the pants and underwear as I took off my bra. He took a while to stare at my body, his pupils so dilated with lust his eyes were almost completely black.

"No one looks at me the way you do." I said, noticing I haven't heard that tone in my voice for a very long time. 

He pulled my panties off and rested his hips on mine, shutting his eyes as he slipped slowly inside of me. I let out a low gasp, trying to stabilize my breathing. Will hid his face on my neck and I could feel his hot breathing and the light scratches of his beard. Still slowly, he started to move inside me, thrusting back and forth. I bit my bottom lip as I tried to suppress a groan, and one of his hands grabbed my breast, his thumb stimulating the nipple. Will knew all my "buttons". Where to push, where to hold, so I could melt in his hands. 

He started to thrust faster and faster, and I could feel the familiar feeling growing at the bottom of my stomach. A few more minutes and I lifted my head up, shutting my eyes as the pleasure started to grow.

"No." Will said almost in a whisper, pulling my chin down. "Let me see your face. I need it." 

I stared at him while we both climaxed, a loud cry leaving my lips and Will's almost louder groan echoing through my ears. He dropped his body on mine, both of us covered in sweat and bodily fluids. We stayed that way until we could breathe normally again, his head on my chest and my fingers playing with his hair.

I wanted to say so many things. How much I loved him. How much I wanted him to stay. How much I've missed him. But he knew. He always knew. After that, we showered together to get rid of the sweat, and even then we couldn't stay away from each other. He hugged me while the water washed our body, kissing sometimes my lips, sometimes my forehead, my neck, my shoulder. I kissed every single one of his scars, as I used to do. I thought I'd seen tears on his face, but it might have been the water pouring from the shower. 

After we finished the shower, he got dressed and I put on a robe, my hair wetting the silk. Will took my face in his hands, kissing my lips with tenderness. I wanted to ask him to stay. He knew that. I wanted him to leave before I made a fool of myself.

He was still holding my face when the door suddenly opened and I pushed him away quickly.

Alana entered, looking from Will to me, and I knew I would get scolded later for that. She noticed, always cunning. 

"Well, just look what the cat dragged in." She said with sarcasm, the door still open. "Hi, Will. Long time no see."

"Alana." He said, seeming surprised. She didn't have time to answer, though. Her son, Morgan, entered the house accompanied by my little world.

"Mommy!" The dark haired child ran to me, bringing a smile to my face as I crouched down to hug him.

"My beautiful boy! Did you have fun at the zoo?" I asked, forgetting about Will's presence for a while. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble, Alana. Henry, did you behave?"

"Mommy, we saw a lion! He roared, and then we saw the giraffes, and the tiger…"

"Look at you dodging my question! Very canny." I laughed, hugging him again.

"He always behaves, you know that. He's a good kid." Alana answered, but she wasn't looking at me. She was staring directly at Will.

I looked at him. His eyes were on Henry, he seemed shocked, astonished. 

"I'll be on my way, then. I'll call you later." She said almost like a threat, making me smile.

"Okay. Bye, Morgan. Send my regards to Margot, Alana, and come to dinner at the end of the week."

"Will do. See you around, Will." She closed the door behind her, leaving me with the two people I loved the most. 

"Henry, this is Will. He's an old friend of mommy's. Won't you say hello?" I brought him closer to Will, and he got down on his knees, his eyes wet. 

"Hi, Henry." He greeted, smiling with joy. Real joy. I smiled back, caressing Henry's hair. "It's nice meeting you."

"Hi." He replied with shyness, hiding behind my body. That made me laugh lightly.

"Baby, why don't you go upstairs and draw a picture of that lion you saw? How about that?" I asked him, kissing the top of his head.

"Okay, mommy." He started to climb up the stairs as Will still stared at him, seeming amazed. 

"Is he… Is he…" Will tried to formulate his words, emotion breaking his voice.

"Yes. He's yours. Not difficult to notice, right? He looks just like you." I replied, wiping the tears away. "I found out I was pregnant a few days after you left. When you came back and Hannibal was arrested, I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to stick with me just because of the baby, so I just… Didn't. He was about a year old when I found out you got married. Alana is his godmother, she helped me so much. She and Margot. He's just a little younger than their son, Morgan, they're best friends. Henry's very smart. He's a joyful child. He's kind, caring to others. He reminds me of you all the time. He's my biggest accomplishment."

Will's face was blushed from crying, but he smiled through the tears, cleaning his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Mommy!" Henry called from the top of the stairs, crayons on his hands. "Can I show Hannibal the drawing?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grimaced, feeling Will's gaze on me. He wasn't supposed to find out that way, I didn't even have the time to tell him slowly so I could try to explain what made no sense. 

"Ahn… Sure, honey. Sure. If you want. Now go to your room for a bit, okay? Mommy will see you in a minute, and then you can show me the drawing." I waited until he entered the room, hearing the door shut. I turned myself to Will.

"Did I hear it right? Hannibal?" Will raised his voice a little and I gestured him to keep his voice down. "Hannibal has seen the kid? You're taking him to see Hannibal?" 

"I know how it sounds, just let me explain…" I asked, noticing the change in his eyes. They were once again cold, but sharp. He was angry. 

"How do you explain this? Y/n? Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes! Yes, I fucking have! I lost my mind when you left, goddamnit!" I screamed, covering my mouth, hoping Henry would not come out of his bedroom. "Hannibal was the last link I had with you. So I sought comfort with the only one who would understand what was like to lose you. Because no one fucking did. Even Alana couldn't help me. So yes, I turned to Hannibal. Because he knows what's like to love you, to ache for you. And you don't get to judge me for that."

Will's eyes were wide, like he couldn't believe what I was saying. 

"Besides…" I sniffed, rubbing my face with my hands "Hannibal cares for him. I know it. And Henry just adores him, Will, you should see…"

"My God, listen to what you're saying, Y/n! Listen to yourself!" He grabbed my face with his hands a little roughly, making me hold his wrists. "He's a killer. He's a cold killer. Can't you see how dangerous it is?"

"Well, we're all fucking killers!" I pushed him away, breathing hard. "Or have you forgotten about it? The night we killed Randall Tier? You really think that wouldn't stain me? Or maybe you do, and that's why you married another woman, with all her purity, because you couldn't bear to see how much you and Hannibal have broken me!" 

He kept staring at me with that look in his eyes, the cold, sharp look that made me shiver. For a moment, I felt the danger of him trying to take my kid away. Would he even consider that? No. No one would take my child away from me. He was mine. 

"This was a bad idea, I should've never allowed you to come inside. Please, leave." I asked, pointing to the door.

He stayed put.

"Will, you better leave. Now. I'm warning you." I stepped away from him, but he pulled me closer, hugging me tightly. I hid my face in his chest, sobbing, hitting him weakly on the shoulders with my fists. "Just go, please. Just go."

"We'll figure it out. Everything will be fine." He kissed me for the last time, letting me go. I knew he would be back. He stared at me once more, and finally left, closing the door behind me. 

"Mommy, why are you crying?" I heard Henry's voice and turned to look at him coming down the stairs, kneeling to hug him. "Please mommy, don't cry!"

"It's okay, baby. Mommy is fine. Everything will be okay. How about a nice bath before we go see Hannibal, uh? Let's go."

"With bubbles?" He asked, clapping in joy. I smiled back to him, caressing his hair.

"With bubbles. Lots of bubbles." I kissed the top of his head and rushed him to the bathroom, an uneasy feeling pumping on my chest. I knew that wouldn't be the last time I saw Will. He would be back. Yes, he would.