#drabble series

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited Masterlist

Summary: You run into a rude stranger at the mall, but this won’t be just another chance encounter. (Lloyd Hansen)

Status: Finished

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

#unsolicited #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #drabble series #lloyd hansen x reader #The Grey Man #the gray man

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [6 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pass takes its toll on the pack.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: i’m having a ridiculous amount of fun with this story, can you tell? as usual, reblogs and feedback are appreciated and always welcome.

The storm rages at your backs as the pack travels west. Wind rips at the furs you have wrapped around yourself, a makeshift shield for the freezing rain. The water stings your hands and face like little needles, and you hunch down over your horse. The rolling hills of the grass sea crest higher and higher until they are hills no longer, but great cliffs that begin to rise darkly in the distance. You swallow a nervous lungful of air, and taste ozone and horse-sweat on your  tongue. 

The Orcs ride close together now, forming a tight shape as they move through the grass sea. What did Carol call it? The zikaegina. Lightning cracks overhead, and for a moment, your eye is drawn to movement—but darkness crashes down too quickly for you to make sense of it. 

A bird? Above the storm? You grip the reins tight, remembering the stag. It’s wild yellow eyes, slavering jaws. 

“The sea is where chaos reigns free, where Halith’s light cannot reach.” That was what they had told you in the chapel. “The further you go, the more godless it becomes.” You shiver. You know only the falsehoods you have been taught by king and country—and the land has been savage, yes, but also beautiful. Halith’s light had never reached you in your father’s house, when you had prayed and begged for it, so why should you care if her indifference cannot reach you here? You look up at the sky, riven into pieces again with a burning bolt—

There are different Gods here, you can feel it. 

The cliffs jut up before you like jagged teeth, spearing the clouds above them. Fog rolls out of the mouth of the pass, so thick you fear you might choke on it. Carol rides up beside you, her back ramrod straight. With one hand she tightly grasps the reins, while the other rests on the pommel of the great-sword at her hip. At the front, Steve silently holds up his hand, forming a tight fist as he slows his horse. The tension is as thick as the fog. You know the horses feel it too as they shift, their ears flicking about nervously. 

I wonder if they hear something we do not. 

“Eyes up, little human. Eyes up.” Carol whispers, her voice barely audible. Though the rain stings your eyes, you do as she says, staring upward into the dark fog. The sounds of wind and rain echo off of the slick rocks, but the air feels eerily still as the storm rages far above you. 

We are not alone here. 

You are reminded of Carol’s warning—other things used it too—and you hunch lower. One of the horses whinnies, the sound echoing up the quiet cliffside. The rider silences it as Steve turns, his hand held up as a sign to stop, to wait. 

The screech echoes all around you, the horrible, piercing noise of it making you clap your hands against our ears to block it out. Trembling, you cast a terrified look at Carol. Slowly, she raises a finger to her lips. Quiet. Above you, somethingskims low through the fog, something dark.

Something big. 

No one moves. The horses stand stock still, and when you look down at your own, his eyes are bright with fear, rolling back and forth in his head. An answering cry pierces the storm, and this time when lightning illuminates the sky, you see it. It clings to an outcropping of rock, crawling silently down the slick stones. It is covered in, dark, wiry fur, with leathery wings that tremble excitedly as it reaches a horrible talon down toward Steve—

Quicker than you’d thought he could move, Steve grabs for his axe, swinging it upward in a clean, bright arc. There is an awful wet, tearing sound as he cleaves the screaming creature in two, black blood spraying his face. His horse whinnies, rearing up as Steve rips the axe clean of the thing’s body. Its carcass falls to the ground, steaming in the cool night air, and for a moment there is silence. 

“Zhut! Ride!” Steve’s bellow trembles in your bones. “Make for the city!”

Chaos erupts around you, but it is as though time has slowed to a crawl. You watch, horrified as more dark shapes drop from the sky above you, descending on the scrambling pack in a flurry of hungry claws and teeth. The rider in front of you loses his head in an instant, the bat-thing slamming into him as its jaws open unnaturally wide. You blink, feeling his warm blood on your own face as it bites down with a sickening crunch, its snout and chest covered in sticky red. It turns those big, hollow eyes to you, a long tongue darting out to lick at the blood staining its face. You have no time to reach for the bow at your back as it lunges for you, talons outstretched—

The beast’s black blood joins that of the Orc rider’s on your skin, stinking and acrid as Carol’s blade lands with a dull thunk. One of its claws lands in your lap, and you scream as it twitches. You sweep it to the ground, and Carol grabs you by the shoulder, shoving a short, curved blade into your shaking, bloody hands. 

“Ride!” She screams the word into your face, pointing forward into the mist. You snap the reins, holding on for dear life as the horse rears back, hooves fiercely pawing at the air. You and Carol take off, with her swinging the sword around your heads, trying to fend off the screaming, hungry swarm. The blade in your hands would be little more than a dagger for Carol, but for you, it is a short sword, light enough for you to wield with a single hand as you cling desperately to the reins. 

Claws clip your cheek, your shoulder, your horse screams—you don’t realize you’re airborne until you hit the ground, the breath knocked out of you. You scramble up to your feet as your head spins. There are three of them, attached to the writhing body of your horse not twenty feet away. Your ears ring with the sounds of battle around you, and the sour tang of blood burns in your nostrils. Others, your own.

“Run! You must run!” Carol beckons you forward, and your thighs burn as you run toward her horse. You can hear another of the creatures behind you, its wings beating against the wind as its claws narrowly miss the skin of your back—it crashes into you, sending you sprawling into the mud for the second time. It lands on top of you, it’s bloody jaws frothing as it snaps at your face. You grab for the sword, straining as its rotting breath rolls across your cheeks—

The creature squawks in pain and then goes still and limp on top of you. Its blood leaks down onto your hands from the hilt, your sword buried in its chest.  Numb and dizzy, you stare up at the seething sky above you. 

“Up, my brave warrior,” Steve replies, rolling the body off of you. He swings you up into his arms, seating you firmly on his horse in front of him. “Eyes forward.” He hands you the reins, brandishing his axe. “I will do the rest.” You do as he says, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. You don’t stray, not when the axe whistles through the air above your head, or when the narrow pass widens out back out into the grass sea, the creatures screams echoing behind you. 

to be continued…

next

#cevans fandom #cevans fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers au #Orc!Steve Rogers #Orc AU #dark fantasy #steve rogers smut #boxofbonesfic #bones drabbles #drabble series

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 3

Warnings: groping, insecurity, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don't want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don't want me in their notifs)

You don’t know what to do. How do these things work? Do you just take your clothes and go? Do you wait until he wakes up?

You’re really not sure what happens next. You've only seen the morning after in movies and they don't exactly reflect real life.

You’re stuck beneath his arm, slung around you from behind. The scent of his sweat and yours clings to the blankets. You hug your chest as you stare at the wall and try to untangle the riddle of how to proceed.

You shift one leg against the other and repress a groan. He’s left you sore but delectably so. Each brush of your thighs reminds you of how he felt inside you, all the same inspiring a sense of hollowness.

As you try to ease the weight off your shoulder, he hums and his arm curls around you. He pulls himself closer, flush to your back, and you freeze. The soft hair along his chest presses against you and his bicep bulges as he squeezes you tight. He nuzzles behind your ear and you feel a twitch against your ass. Oh.

Maybe there’s more? Maybe it isn’t over? But you know that men often have some nocturnal activity uninspired by reality. 

You slip your arm from under the blanket and touch his wrist. You contemplate escape. You don’t want him to wake up sober and realise what he’s done. You don’t want to ruin this. 

You try to lift his arm but he merely holds you tighter. He elicits a growl that whisks against the shell of your ear. You give up almost at once. His nose brushes your lobe as he breathes you in.

“Don’t leave,” he purrs, gentle but firm.

“I… should,” you eke out.

“Mmmm,” he burrows his nose in your hair, “why?”

You swallow. You don’t have an answer for him. It’s Saturday. You don’t have work and your friends won’t be awake till noon with how much they drank. So what do you tell him? I should go before you see me?

“Stay,” he hooks his leg around yours and pulls it back, “for me, bunny.”

Your cheeks bloom with heat. Bunny? That’s cute, it doesn’t quite fit you, does it?

He runs his fingertips up your arm, a trail of goosebumps speckling your skin. His fingers dance along your shoulder before he slides beneath the blanket. You hold your breath, tense as he delves further, following the curve of your body to your waist.

“Please,” you choke out, “don’t–”

You frantically reach beneath the blanket and stop his hand as he touches your stomach. You cringle as his rough palm brushes your middle. He hums and rolls his hips.

“What? God, you’re so hot, baby,” he kneads your stomach.

You blink and your lips part dryly. Your heart flutters as hot adrenaline surges through your veins. Could he really want someone like you?

He drags his hand from beneath yours and traces the line of your pelvis. He draws circles there, inching closer and closer to your cunt. You shudder as he keeps your legs parted, his own still curled around your knee.

“Curtis…” you murmur.

“Shh, bunny, just… relax,” he coaxes as he cups his hand over your pussy.

You gasp as he spreads your lips with his index and ring fingers. You bite the tip of your tongue as he presses his middle finger against your clit and flicks. Your hips spasm and you squeeze his forearms. You feel his tendons and bulging veins against your palm. He’s so perfect but he treats you better than.

He rolls his fingertips around your bud, keeping a stirring pressure as he huffs into your hair. You heave as your insides coil in delight. He snarls as he urges you on, playing with you until your whimpering and desperate.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” he growls, “I know you can cum for me. Hmm?”

You squeak as your muscles string tight. Your nerves storm in your core and ping off each other as the tension builds. You clutch his arm tight as you brace yourself for your orgasm.

“You want me to put it in? You gotta cum for me, okay? You gotta be ready for me, bunny.”

You moan as your walls quiver. You want him and your body clenches at the thought of having him. You push your head back as you surrender to him. You squeal as your climax crashes into you, shaking your body as you buck wildly against his hand. He purrs and helps you through, rubbing your clit until you're weak and senseless.

“How do you want me, baby?” He trails his hand along your pelvis, wiping your slickness up to your hip.

“I… I…” you can’t answer. What can you say? You just want him.

“Can I have you like this, baby?” He wiggles his dick against your ass. He rigid and wanting.

You gulp and nod, moaning out a slew of gibberish.

He inhales and holds in the air. He reaches to your thigh and pushes your leg higher. He hooks his other arm beneath you as he shifts even closer. Your head lolls on the pillow and you arch your back as he guides your body.

He snakes his hand down and tilts his pelvis, catching his tip between his fingers as he frames your cunt. He rests his cheek against your head as he inches into you, letting out his breath as he slowly buries himself as deep as he can. He holds himself there as you squirm and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing good,” he preens as he pulls back, “hmm, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” He slides in again and once more stays sheathed in you, “do you feel how you fit me so perfect?”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #dark!curtis everett #au #drabble series #drabble #The DUFF

[mininovia]

drabble [2]

c.w. f!reader, angst, implied unrequited love (both ends), some comfort

"you deserve better."

the weight of his words hit you just as hard as the look in his eyes when he says it.

jotaro isn't the type to meddle in other people's business. always sticking to his own lane, never interfering unless it directly involves him or his loved ones. and even then, those battles are carefully picked based on how severe the threat is and if they can be resolved without his involvement.

your love life has never been any of his concern before. romance in general is not something he thinks he's suited for—not with the life he now leads, carrying a torch that's worth less than the weight it bears—and he's never once thought anything different. he of all people shouldn't have a say in how you handle your relationships with other people.

so how is it that this is what gets him to speak up? the sight of you crying over someone that's clearly not worth your attention, or efforts or care. doesn't even need a name to know that whoever you were just on the phone with didn't deserve the chance to break your heart.

but all too late, he realizes he's crossed a line that he can't take back. a wall he painstakingly built brick by brick over the years is now crumbling over three little words. and he's seeing it first-hand in the way your tears have stopped, eyes widening just a bit as your lips part in a wordless whisper of "what?".

an embarrassing heat crawls from his neck down his back, and his hands, now clenched tightly at his sides, gather with cold sweat. though a guarded expression instinctively descends over his face to mask his internal dilemma, he knows it's pointless. the deed has been done.

unwillingly, against all odds, he let a sliver of the love he holds for you seep through and reach you.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro kujo #drink: black tea #was listening to dream girl while writing this lol #drabble series

[look-i-love-u]

Galladrabbles - Ratchet

This week's @galladrabbles for @mzshko's prompt "ratchet" is a bit of a stretch. But I hope it still works as part of my ongoing drabble series, which you can read from the beginning: HERE

||||||||||||

Does Mickey know? Surely not… but - what if he does and he just doesn't care?

Also what does he look like? Ian's been barely resisting the urge to check out the dispatch department.

“Hey?! Nurse Ratched? You there?” Mickey's voice crackles through the mic. 

Just like at work…

“What?!” Ian swallows hard. “Nurse? Who..what are you talking about?!”

“Your cleric, Ian! My guy’s bleeding all over the floor. Get to it. Chop chop!” 

“Fuck. Right. Sorry.” Ian makes some Healing happen.

“What's with you today?”

“Nothing! Nothing… just… wondering…”

“About?”

“Ehm… I… your character? Does he look like you?” 

#galladrabbles #gallavich #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #drabble #drabble series #gallavich gate 3

[writercole]

Summary: The end of two strangers and the beginning of the end. Words: 285 Warnings: Fluff. Kiss. Bob fucking Floyd. A/N: I think this is the best kiss scene I've ever imagined.

Bob texted her within two hours of leaving the airport. His eagerness to spend time with her that wasn’t thousands of feet in the air inside of an aluminum can drove him straight to the squadron leader’s office, finding out their start date and time.

She agreed to dinner with him that same night, just a casual thing at a little diner not far from base.

“You don’t even have to change. You looked beautiful drooling on my shoulder,” he flirted, sending a wink emoji before panicking that he was being too forward.

Bob sat at a table for two, his leg bouncing as his fingers fidgeted with a glass of water. His eyes darted to the door every time it opened, shoulders deflating every time it wasn’t her.

Until it was her. He swore that he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in a t-shirt and jeans. When her eyes met his, she smiled so brightly that she outshone the sun. 

It seemed crazy that a decade could pass and feelings stayed the same. And yet, here he was, still smitten by the girl tossing rocks into a stream. 

“Robby, promise we’ll see each other again,” she said as the train continued to rattle past.

“Of course we will,” he whispered as he stepped closer. His hand cupped her cheek and his lips met hers, a soft kiss shared between strangers, fireworks erupting behind his eyes. A moment so perfect his eyes didn’t want to open immediately, surely this was a dream. When they did, they found her with the same surprise and wonderment he felt reflected his own.. “A kiss like that can’t be the end of two strangers.”

#cole writes #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob #drabble series #something like that #top gun maverick

[the-masked-ram]

False Immunity Part five- Hiei x Fem Reader

CW: Soft Hiei, Fem Reader, SFW

---

He leaned back against the tree trunk just outside your college, his mind drifted back to that day.

He almost regretted asking that. You didn’t return to the temple the next few days and Hiei was getting antsy. He scoffed, that was a word he’d never used to describe himself and he never thought he ever would. Yet here he was confused, excited, and even eager to meet a human.

“Detective, how do humans court?”

That elicited a surprised and fairly dramatic response from everyone around the table except the fox. Kurama lifted his eyebrow slightly, but that knowing and infuriating smirk only grew. This time he wasn’t trying to hide it though. He tilted his head and carefully placed his teacup back on the table in front of him. Hiei hated how calm he was, though he hated worse how the Detective and Buffoon were both looking at him like he’d grown three heads.

“What the hell did you say?” Yusuke asked, coughing around the gulp of tea he had swallowed wrong.

Hiei scowled, he loathed repeating himself, “How. Do. Humans. Court? I assume it’s different than demons.”

Flowers… chocolates… dates… it was too much to consider. Demons were so much easier. Shows of prowess, strength, feral flirting behaviors that would get both parties’ yokai flaring, and then eventually the mating marks. But demonic pairings never came with emotions, these feelings he had, were different. They were muted, but they were there. The desire to protect, the desire to know, and the desire to bring out that smile in your face, selfishly have it directed towards him.

What was a date? Why did everyone recommend flowers? They died and were relatively useless, unless they were in Kurama’s hands. These chocolates he understood, they at least provided sustenance and pleasure like his sweet snow did. He pursed his lips and tucked his hands behind his head, turning his gaze to the front of the building where you’d be exiting soon enough.

He saw you soon, stepping from between the massive doors of the Ningen school. Or university as Kurama called it. Keiko followed close behind, laughing brightly. She swung her bag though you walked so differently. Even though smile on your face was a little less jovial, it was still soft, still welcoming. Your movements were a little less carefree, a little more subtle, and Hiei took it all in.

Kurama would have a field day if he knew. Hiei’s lips twisted in a snarl of disgust. Maybe he could just start with a greeting. He may be out in public, but he was still dressed like a human for the most part, the only thing that stood out was his hair and his eyes. Yet he could always brush that off as some sort of… what did the humans call it? Dress up? No that was wrong.

He shook his head as he stepped off the tree limb, feeling awkward when he didn’t have the sensation of his cloak rippling in the wind around him. Instead, there was the stiffness of a leather jacket and denim pants.

“Oh Hiei!” Keiko gasped, pressing a delicate hand over her chest.

He was always intrigued how something so soft and fragile could control someone as strong as Yusuke. He nodded at her all the same and his eyes then flicked to you.

“Hello,” you said quietly, your smile growing slightly as you gave your attention to him.

Hiei felt a surge of warmth bloom deep in his stomach. A thrill he refused to acknowledge at that time.

He nodded to you too but also added a quiet, “Hello.”

He knew you’d appreciate it, something so simple, something so innocent that brought that bright and beautiful expression to your face. What was wrong with him? He walked away without saying anything else. Blending into the crowd of students and leaving the two of you behind, bewildered.

Something he normally never said. Usually, it was a grunt at most, but he doubted you understood how important that single word was. Still, he watched as your fingers tightened on the strap of your bag and your eyes darted to the side. Human cues he couldn’t quite understand, even though he tried to rack his brain for information.

That smile though, it glowed brighter, something no person should possess. Something that threw him for a loop. Keiko stood beside you with surprise written all over her features. It was just a start, something small that he knew was insignificant to a Ningen, but to him was, to most demons, it was massive step. He didn’t know why he was trying, but something inside him rattled his cage, screamed at him to do so.

#sfw #yyh #yuyu hakusho #hiei #hiei x fem reader #drabble series

[dawnrider]

A new drabble addition for A Bushel and a Peck!

Little bitty Izayoi is not about to be left behind for anything!

Come Too! on AO3

#dawnrider fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #Modern AU #A Bushel and a Peck #drabble series

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Your responses have seasoned my month with joy. I cannot thank you all enough.

Created for the 14 Days of Valentines community project, hosted by @muddyorbsblr.

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Includes: Fluff, drinking

Summary: You have a date with mischief

You pace before Wanda. She sits, legs crossed on your bed with half your wardrobe strewn around her. "Are you sure this is the one?" you ask, holding up a velvet dress. "It's not too presumptuous?"

"I'm sure he's the last person you have to worry about that with," she titters, shifting to help put away the other options.

You roll your eyes. "I mean presumptuous about where he's taking me. I don't want to look like I expect caviar just because he's royalty."

"Breathe," she enunciates. "First of all, the guy wears gold armor, which is entirely impractical by the way.

"Besides, you should've seen him today. He was questioning Stark about where to take you. I even heard him ask 'Brother, if I wear this tie instead, am I still "dressing like a witch?"' He wants you to expect caviar. And champagne for that matter."

"Ok," your shoulders relax a bit. He's nervous too. Unexplainable, but it's endearing all the same.

Wanda zips you into the dress, its fabric a forest at dusk. "And you should wear the black thigh-highs. They'll keep you warm and show some leg when you walk."

"What would I do without you?" you give her a hug and hear the knock.

"Wait for another sex god to land in your lap," she answers with raised eyebrows.

"Wanda," you hiss as you go to get the door.

☕

The trip to Hudson Yards takes a minute at most. Greetings exchanged, he asks, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," tumbles out, to your surprise as well as his. He pulls you tight against his chest, your knees buckling at the heat of him. A flash of green, the scent of snow, and you land gracefully before Peak restaurant's host station.

The man at the head of the line shoots Loki an angry look before stepping back apologetically. A young woman glances up from her seating chart and asks for your reservation.

"Laufeyson," he replies smoothly.

As she leads you to a window seat you ask, "How on earth did you get us a window reservation in a day? Was it..." you gesture.

"Magic?" he smirks. "Quite unnecessary, darling. My silver tongue is more than enough to persuade most ears." The twitch beneath your skirts concurs.

The first course is spent in awe. Sipping mulled wine between bites, you can't decide which view is better, the metropolis below you or the god across the table.

Over your entree he asks which places in the city are your favorite, if you've ventured Upstate, and about the novel you're reading. Hesitantly, he tells you his first year with the Avengers was mandated by an extradition agreement. After completing his sentence, he chose to remain in New York, describing the 3,000-lightyear move as the "gift that keeps on giving."

By dessert you're nearing desperation, completely enthralled. The way his lips encase that spoon, his hums of pleasure with each bite of crème brûlée. 'What must it feel like to be that custard?'

The meal complete, Loki helps you with your coat. "As much as I hate to cover such a breathtaking dress, we can't have you getting cold." When he's satisfied with your ensemble, he leads you out to The Edge.

☕

One hundred stories glow beyond the icy barriers. Loki removes a glove, his hand turning cerulean as raised markings snake along the skin. He presses the tips of his fingers to the glass, absorbing the frost to reveal the city.

You encase his other hand in a death grip. "Darling," his palm warms your cheek, turning your face to him. "I would never allow harm to touch you." His eyes speak sincerity, and he bends to seal the vow.

His lips are satin, their need barely harnessed as they press against your own. Your mouth submits, opening at the caress of his tongue. The taste of cinnamon further ignites your core, melting you into him.

Your back hits the glass, chest heaving against him. You wind your fingers through his raven hair, eliciting a sinful gasp as you grip his locks. An involuntary thrust betrays his desire, ridged and obvious, despite your clothes.

His hand grasps your sides, straining between ingrained decorum and the impulse to explore your curves. He drags himself up for breath, eyes molten lust, and steadies his resolve. "I must take you home. I would be abashed to get overly familiar."

A/N: Thank you for reading! I love every one of you.

Tag list: @peaches1958, @javagirl328, @loopsisloop

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the list.

Next part

Main masterlist

#14 days of valentines #community project #loki god of mischief #loki odinson #loki #marvel loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki series #mcu loki #god of mischief #loki/you #loki/reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #drabble #drabble series #admiral at the bow of nails #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #dandelion fluff #wanda maximoff #fluff #fluffy drabbles #slow burn #date

[elevenharbor]

Promise to You (5762 words) by elevenharbor Chapters: 55/? Fandom: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy TaleRating: General Audiences Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/Sesshoumaru, Higurashi Kagome & Sesshoumaru Summary: A story about cherished friendships, a mother's redemption, a father's undying love, and a forgotten promise made under a particular willow tree. Told in 100 words. [Prequel to "The Moon is Beautiful"] * ch. 43-55 up! *

Childhood AU sesskag drabble series update! I'm tackling this first before i continue with The Moon is Beautiful since technically Promise to You is a prequel to TMIB (also I have to revisit that script since it's been a while and my memory is dusty.)

Thanks for reading!

#eleven drabbles #promise to you sk #sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #drabble series #100 words #childhood friends #young sesshoumaru #young kagome #best friends #the plot thickens #fanfiction #sesshomaru and kagome #sesshoumaru x kagome

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected Masterlist

Sequel to Unsolicited

Summary: You must come to terms with life with Lloyd Hansen and all that comes with it.

Status: Complete

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44

Part 45

Part 46

Part 47

Part 48

Part 49

Part 50

Part 51

Part 52

Part 53

Part 54

Part 55

Part 56

#lloyd hansen #sequel #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble series #drabble #the gray man #series

[disorganizedkitten]

There Is Magic In Every Living Thing 1

Harry Potter | 2021 | 546 | Ao3 | Masterlist | Next

Theodore's dorm in Slytherin House consists of two Necromantic disasters, three idiots, and one Theo. Surprisingly, they haven't burnt down the castle yet. (Or maybe not surprisingly, since the pyromaniacs are mostly in Gryffindor Tower. Still, they haven't managed to reduce the school to rubble, so that's good.)

“Hey, your family crest is being carved into the wall.” Theo looked back down at his book, having figured out what the scraping noise and sudden magical presence was. He was on his stomach on his bed in the Slytherin sixth year dorm, Harry was to his left, upside down on his own bed for some general reason that probably hadn’t been put into words yet. Theo tried not to worry about it, as a rule. And Blaise was sitting on his bed, playing with either potions, chemicals, or colored water. Theo also tried not to worry about that. It was probably blood.

 “Who’s family crest?” Blaise asked.

Theo glanced up from his book again at the distracted tone. Harry didn’t respond. Theo glanced pointedly at the same wall. “The one you share.”

 Something clattered to the floor from Harry’s side of the room. Huh. He was holding something?

 Rustling and the bouncing of springs from behind Theo informed him Blaise was moving too, and he watched the two brown boys reach the wall with nearly-matching levels of inhuman grace. The final line of the Peverell crest finished being carved into the wall. Harry, the idiot, reached up and touched it.

 He didn’t get thrown across the room, but that didn’t relax Theo. He kept them in his peripheral, ready to cast a spell if something moved wrong. Death may not be his domain, but he could weaken the dead by funneling away their power if they dared attack his friends.

 Another line was carved into the wall. From his angle, Theo wasn’t sure what it was. “Oh,” Harry breathed, as the wall continued to be vandalized. “Are you okay?”

 Theo gave up on being subtle and sat up properly. Ah. That didn’t seem to be dead people. Lily Potter probably had some physical scrying spell, most likely based off blood, and was using it to write Harry this message. The idea that most people lauded her as the paragon of a Light Witch when half of her spells were blood magic was ridiculous.

 “Do we need to come at you from this side?”

 Theo hoped so. He wanted to participate in one of her rituals.

 “I’ll let Con know. Be safe.” Harry’s eyes turned green again, and he glanced over at Theo. “So apparently mum and dad are missing because they’re in an alternate universe, and they’ve decided to wreak havoc.”

 Theo looked at his best friend and then shook his head mirthfully. “Can you believe they’ve pretended we’re the bad influence in your life?”

 Harry snickered. “Denial, it’s gotta be.”

 “Don’t know why,” Blaise hummed, tone smooth and teasing. “I’d be happy if my kids turn out like us.”

 “We are truly amazing human specimens,” Harry agreed, fluttering his eyelashes at Blaise.

 Theo snorted, a knee-jerk peal of laughter that would rarely be seen around anyone else. He opened his eyes to see Harry looking at him, amused and questioning. Theo grinned. “Human.”

 Harry caught the joke that time around, and while he laughed Theo looked over at Blaise. Blaise’s signature Cheshire grin was in place, dark eyes genuinely happy.

 Theo hadn’t seen that very often this year. He smirked back, but it didn’t last long before a full blown grin took its place.

#TMLT #There is magic in every living thing #Jaymeow writes #Theo Nott #Harry Potter #Blaise Zabini #theodore nott #Slytherin Harry Potter #Crossposting spam #Drabble series #Tuesday updates #usually

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place. 

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal. 

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #mcu #marvel #captain america #sam wilson #natasha romanov #au #tattoo au

[seungfiles]

doctor, doctor masterlist

summary: fresh out of your fellowship, you’ve never felt so alive - a new and rising neurosurgeon, placed at the prestigious Silverwood Medical Hospital. of course, there are bumps in the road - quite a few of them, indeed - but at the end of the day, it’s the same smiling thirteen faces that greet you and soothe your soul. a simple laugh, a quick glance, a soft caress of hair - wait, is it a potential romance you’ve got on your hands? or perhaps… daresay… a love quadrangle?

pairings: ot13 seventeen x reader (platonic and romantic), ??? x reader

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life, medical au

ch. 1 surgeries and ramen and pining, oh my!

#seventeen x reader #ot13 x reader #??? x reader #drabble series #svt x reader

[look-i-love-u]

Galladrabbles - Movies

Wohoo. A @galladrabbles before Sunday or Monday. I feel quite accomplished. Thanks for the prompt "movies" @mmmichyyy.

This is part of my drabble series Gallavich Gate 3. You can read it from the start: HERE

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Some moments in this game just hit too hard. Ian felt it before but never like this. Having something in your brain that controls you. Has the power to ruin your life on one hand - making you feel invincible on the other. Plus the stories of loss and grief. Of bad pasts and unsure futures.

He sighs.

Mickey's quiet too.

“Mick? What will we do when we meet?”

“Whatever you want, Red”, comes the soft reply.

It sends a shiver down Ian's spine.

“Dinner and a movie?  Coffee shop? 

Mickey chuckled. “You choose. I’ll just show up and look pretty.” 

#gallavich #Galladrabbles #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #drabble #drabble series

[writercole]

Summary: Sometimes, reuniting is like riding a bike. Words: 341 Warnings: Fluff. Kiss. Bob fucking Floyd. A/N: It's the end. And so much better than I originally thought.

As far as first dates went, this one was a success. Conversations flowed without awkward silences, both sharing bits of their lives from the past decade, catching up on the important events. Bob insisted on walking her to her car despite the fact that it was only a few feet from the front door, and right next to his.

“You know, I spent the entirety of boot camp regretting the fact that I left without having any way to contact you,” he admitted quietly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his khaki pants.

“I might have been a little disappointed when you didn’t,” she agreed, her stomach flipping as she looked into his eyes. “But something about tonight felt a little…”

“Fated?” he offered with a soft smile.

“Fated,” she whispered. She noticed the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, the way his eyes dropped to her lips and back to her eyes. Stepping forward, she rose on her tiptoes, her hands sliding up his chest. His hands found their way to her hips and pulled her close before his lips brushed against hers gently.

It was like no time had passed at all. The edges of the world fizzled away as their mouths moved with one another, the sparks of what could have been reigniting with the way her hands wrapped around his neck and tangled in the short hair at the back of his neck. Their heartbeats synced as his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her into his chest as he backed up two steps, leaning against his truck.

The moment ended naturally, their bodies still pressed together and their faces less than an inch apart. Their eyes fluttered open slowly, astonished smiles on their faces.

“Is it really that simple?” His voice was so quiet she barely heard him over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“It’s like 1, 2, 3,” she grinned, “leave for boot camp without contact, find each other on a plane, never let go.”

“I can do that.”

“Promise?”

“For you? Absolutely.”

#cole writes #robert bob floyd #bob #bob floyd #top gun maverick #drabble series #something like that