A short one-shot inspired by @hotsauce418 ‘s brilliant imagination.
Rating: T (omg who is this person and what have you done with Snazzy)
The
children tried to peek out of the windows even as their parents covered their
eyes. The man walking down the road to
the castle wasn’t fit to be seen by children.
He wasn’t fit to be seen in by anyone.
He was cursed, and bewitched; with little more than a cloth wrapped
about his waist for modesty. It showed
all of his charred skin; blackened by constant exposure to fire, and yet
beneath it his muscles were frighteningly powerful, his body unnaturally
healthy. His eyes peered out from under
a mop of dark brown curls, uncaring that those who saw him either stared or
ran.
It was a
wonder to the villagers that he was allowed to approach the castle. Will Graham, the Dragon Consort. To anger him was to bring the wrath of a
dragon’s flaming breath upon you, called by his single whistle. Yet when he stepped up to the drawbridge, it
lowered and allowed him entry.
The
castle servants were no less terrified, but having the castle to protect them,
they sneaked closer glances. Even
beneath his charred skin he was incredibly good-looking; the servant-girls
couldn’t help but stare. Curtesy of the
dragon’s magic, no doubt; as was his perfect health.
He
reached the doors to the throne room, his bare feet making little more than a
soft slap on the stone when he stopped as two guards crossed their spears in
front of him.
Honestly, this could fit right into the A/B/O verse of the other black and whites, or not, seeing as how in my ideal headcanon A/B/O verse, male omega’s are not hairless or feminine, they’re just dudes with different hormones, slightly different genitals and the ability to carry children 😐 sue me. I likes it that way.
For this pic, I like to think Hannibal’s aiming for early morning sex before toddler son wakes up, and Will’s sleepy but always receptive. Yeah, so.
If you like my stuff, please feel free to share it around!
I love your art @liesinpain, and this one particularly inspired me –
A Sleepy Morning by TigerPrawn // @desperatelyseekingcannibals Hannibal AU, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Omega Verse, Alpha/Omega, Lazy Mornings, Morning Sex, parents getting it on whilst they have a quiet moment! Words: 1305 Chapters: 1/1
“Will.” Hannibal spoke his husband’s name softly despite the intention to wake the man. He was sleeping soundly in their large bed, a vision surrounded by the white clouds of their bedding. Beautiful, as always.
Will grumbled, his eyes fluttering but not opening.
“Will.” A little firmer.
“What?” He moaned the word as he rolled onto his side, towards Hannibal. “I was sleeping.”
“Do you hear that?” Hannibal asked, a grin spreading across his face and heart swelling with love at the plume of sleep heavy scent that had arisen as the omega moved.
“I don’t hear anything.” Will grumbled into his pillow.
“Exactly.” Hannibal tried to contain his glee.
Will perked his head up, listening with the keen ears of a parent until he turned his dopey-sleepy smile to his alpha. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
Will let out a delighted groan and stretched against him before rolling onto his back, hands above his head in the total relaxation of someone whose child was still sleeping at a reasonable hour.
“I looked in on him, I think we may have a half hour if we’re lucky.” Hannibal rumbled as he moved, settling between Will’s legs and nuzzling into his neck.
Will hummed his agreement, letting Hannibal spread his legs.
Hannibal was already hard just at the thought of this stolen time they had – the first in a while. And he knew Will missed being able to indulge in sleepy, slow morning sex as much as he did. It wasn’t something they got to experience quite as much these days.
“I’m overtired now, too much sleep.” Will mumbled, despite already being a little breathless. Hannibal felt his affections stirring despite the claim of tiredness. “You’ll have to do all the work.”
Hannibal growled against Will’s neck, mouthing over the now years old mating scar. He enjoyed relaxed and pliant Will just as much as the hungry Will that liked to slam him to the bed and ride him to completion.
“I’d be happy to.” Hannibal murmured, brushing his lips over Will’s skin as he slid his hand between them. He allowed his fingers to graze Will’s hardening length, pulling a happy hum from his husband.
This took me for-fucking-ever, various reasons, but damn, and it’s not even my best work. Hannibalsimago should get an award, for putting up with my shit and having the patience of a saint.
Will paused. There was a momentary confusion, the sort of blank space that collapses in itself before a revelation. He realized he had been watching the doctor’s hands wrap the bottles of iodine, carbolic lotion and morphine one after the other but with no real focus on their movement.
Teen & Up // M/M // Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter // Tagged: Alternate Universe – Tattoo Parlor, Inspired by Fanart, tattoo artist Will, art dealer and collector Hannibal, exasperated Bev, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Kind of… mostly because Will is oblivious, Developing Relationship, First Kiss Ch 1/1 – 4085 words
There were several things Will Graham couldn’t regret, though sometimes he was sure he should. It was something he was conscious of considering the amount of coverups he’d inked for people who had regretted their tattoo choices of years past.
He couldn’t regret kissing Rachel Godfrey after the Spring formal in Junior High. Could really never regret kissing her brother John three years later during a thunderstorm as they hid under the bike shed. Both those instances came with their own trouble and consequences, but they also taught him a lot too – about who he was and about having the strength to be that person.
He could never regret giving up his place at the police academy to look after his dad. Sure the guy was a bitter asshole, who only got worse as the cancer ate away at him, but he was Will’s only family. Life took him in so many bad directions during that time, but one good thing came out of it – meeting people who helped pull him back together when his dad died. Giving him friendship and support and a vocation. Meeting Jack Crawford and, eventually, becoming his apprentice. He couldn’t regret that decision to stay with his dad, because everything that resulted from it had made him the man he was today.
He couldn’t regret buying this little shop.
It was tiny, all he could afford with the money he’d saved over the years. Enough room for two artists to have a good sized station each. There was only one drawing area and the reception was just a little table with two chairs for waiting customers. But, it was coming together okay, and he couldn’t regret it despite how hard it had been getting to this point. And how hard it would continue to be – considering running a business wasn’t exactly a piece of cake. But Jack had retired and he didn’t want to work for anyone other than his mentor. So he’d decided to strike out on his own, no one to answer to and only his best friend, and also one of Jack’s previous apprentices – Bev Katz – as an employee. Which she was still laughing about, though she hadn’t turned down the job and insisted on calling him “boss” in a rather annoying way.
No, he couldn’t regret anything that had brought him to this moment, despite how much he really hated his damn neighbour.
The proprietor of the art and antiques store across the strip from Will’s tattoo parlour, was a stuck up asshole, who Bev insisted was an actual Count. Though knowing Bev that was likely bullshit. He could almost believe it though – the guy was practically choking on that silver spoon.
Their shops were directly opposite each other across the small pedestrianised street in this upmarket end of town – boutiques and luxury items abound. Will knew that they might get a few neighbours unhappy to accept a tattoo parlour into the area, but it was especially annoying that one of them was able to scowl in at them all day from the comfort of his own shop front.
It had all started three when Will had bought, what had once been, a small barbershop. He’d got it for a steal because it had been run down before having been closed up for almost two years. It had only been sold because the elderly owner had passed. Despite the work that needed doing, it was already pretty perfect – with appropriate plumbing and good layout, even if it did need some work. After two months he was able to open.
But in the month before it opened, he had received a note through the door inviting the proprietor to the local business owners meeting.
And that was when he met the art and antique dealer (and unverified Count), Hannibal Lecter.
OMG! Where do I begin apologizing to @desperatelyseekingcannibals who won my Fanniversary giveaway this summer and asked for Tristhad as Jedi Knights. Queue up some fluff for this one folks because you’re going to need it.
I know MCD is not everyone’s thing, but I hope some of you will give it a shot. I’m really proud of this one. It’s probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written next to Remeber the Ravenstags so thank you @desperatelyseekingcannibals for inspiring me to write it! (And I owe you some apology fluff which is in the works, eheh.) Tristhad works insanely well in the Star Wars verse. It was so much fun! But oh my poor, sweet Galahad. You were too prescious for the Jedi Order!
Warnings: Major Character Death, Drug Abuse, Grief/Mourning, suicidal thoughts
Summary: It is a time of terrible strife at the dawn of the Galactic Empire. Pockets of insurgency have risen in almost every system, from Coruscant to the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim. On the planet Orto, former Jedi Knight, Galahad Dulacson struggles to stay one step ahead of the dreaded Darth Vader and his team of assassins while mourning the loss of his fellow Jedi and companion, Tristan. Updates every Sunday.
Ragged clouds shrouded the moon. Only the faintest silhouettes were visible, of monstrous ancient trees which bulged and sprawled across the night. They made hideous shapes, like clawing desperate creatures, clamouring for attention.
Bev tried not to give them any. She had her own battles, and could not afford the distraction.
Even the darkness seemed a barrier; thick and oily and insidious. She fought through its unnatural power, digging her toes into the mulch to propel herself on. Dry leaves scratched at her as she passed; twigs crackled and broke and cut her feet. Still she moved, gripped with fearsome agitation, straining to see through the gloom.
Something yanked hard at her and she stumbled, almost fell. It was only her nightgown, caught on a branch. But there was no time to waste; a sharp tug and it was torn free. She had to keep on, keep looking. There was danger in the forest, and not just for herself…
A howl in the distance confirmed it – a terrible sound, one borne of twisted screams and unseen terrors. But a distraction, only; something to lead her away from her quarry.
Wings brushed her face, rushed past her cheek. Again, and then again, but she could not be swayed from her purpose. There was a clearing ahead, a pool of pitch-dark shadow. No pale glimmer relieved its unbroken mass, no sound betrayed a presence – but she knew what she sought lurked within its depths.
There was something in her hand, though she could not remember carrying it – a long piece of wood, sharpened to a crude point.
The clouds parted, and revealed the moon’s pearly face.
With it came a sight which made her heart seize. In the clearing, her dear friend, almost a sister, limp in the grasp of a fiend, its foul breath covetous at her neck. Will whimpered once, and the creature’s teeth pierced her tender skin. Blood spilled, soiling her thin nightgown, and the creature bent to drink deep.
Bev gripped her stake tightly, determined to end the creature’s enchantment.
Before she could move, Will’s eyes fluttered open, and her lips parted in a long low moan. Something fell from Will’s hand – a stake of her own, abandoned. She reached a hand to the creature’s shoulder, to pull him in, closer, into her swooning embrace…
A sharp tap on her forehead woke Bev with a jolt. There was drool on her chin, and an empty packet of chips crumpled under her arm. She rubbed at her face and found crumbs in her hair.
Will threw another Cheeto – it hit her on the cheek this time. “You missed the best bit,” she said. “I can’t believe it – call yourself a horror fan?”
“Ugh,” said Bev, struggling to sit up. “I feel like the undead. How long was I asleep for?”
“Don’t know,” Will said. “But you missed Dracula being brought back by that girl’s blood draining all over his shrivelled corpse.”
“That is a good bit,” Bev agreed. “Not good enough to throw Cheetos at me though.”
“You were snoring.”
On the TV, Christopher Lee towered silently over a nightgowned girl. Will wasn’t paying attention, caught between grinning at Bev and tapping her phone with orange-powdered fingers. Texting Hannibal, of course.
Bev blinked a few times, still groggy. “I had a weird dream that was you and Hannibal,” she said, pointing at the screen. “One of those really bizarre detailed ones.”
Will looked up. The girl on-screen was now obligingly offering her slender neck to Dracula. “This is because I told you he’s a Count, isn’t it,” she said, flatly.
Bev crossed her arms. “You seemed to be enjoying it quite a lot,” she said. “And who the hell has a Count for a boyfriend?”
There was a silence, then Will said, “I am not asking him. Stop trying to make me.”
“Oh please,” Bev said. “Please please please. He’d look great in the costume. And then there’s the accent and everything. You could be one of Dracula’s brides.”
“No!” Will shook her head. “No way. All because of your party. If you want to so bad, you ask him.”
“Alright then,” Bev said. “I will.”
Will heaved an exasperated sigh, crunched another Cheeto, then aimed the entire bag at Bev’s head.
****
[Note for new readers – Bev uses female pronouns for Will (who is genderfluid in this AU)]
Mostly reblogs and random words 