curled around the corners

#3. Satin Possessions (M)

drabble. | #1 | #2 | #3 | #4 | #5 | #6

genre: mentions of smut

characters: sugardaddy!jimin in all his glory

word count: 1118 words

You were utterly beautiful that night – and unfortunately for the males with prying eyes and glittering smiles, you were already taken by the one and only Park Jimin.

a/n: third drabble for my collab with @noir0neko <3 this drabble also features a special someone aha ;)

Originally posted by my-eccentric-mind

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“ The reason Alastor refuses to sleep is because he commonly suffers from sleep paralysis. He most common hallucinations are dogs and hunters but he’s even hallucinationed other misfits like Niffty crying about a break up with a needle and blood around her or Baxter curled in the corner, bits of ice in his hair and soaking wet, shivering violently. When Alastor wakes up, he always rushes to the others to make sure they’re unharmed.”

-Submitted by Anonymous

Sleepy things

Little lights in darkness, dormice, snoremice, silly songs and sad ones, yawns, things to hug, the quiet ticking-tocking of the clock, lying back, puffy purple blankets, big soft pillows, lullabies sung by the distant wind and rain, the memory of a fine dinner, rustling sheets, warm old ghosts, stories from the big book, proprioception swinging gently loose, the gentle wash of information flowing around but not in, pyjamas, cosy nests, curling cats, sunny corners, time, drowsy bee-light, the passage of the moon between clouds, silence, sleep.

A Cagey Feeling - Blue Beetle x Reader

Requested by Anon - blue beetle getting stuck in a cage a fellow girl teammate😶😉


Jaime wakes up with a headache. He opens his eyes to stare at a unfamiliar ceiling. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Jaime sat up slowly to look around. 

‘We have a problem, Jaime Reyes,’ Scarab remarks as Jaime realizes he still wearing the Blue Beetle armor.  

“Where am I,” Jaime asks as his gaze lands on metal bars. Rapidly turning around, he realizes he is locked in a cage.

‘We are currently in an underground cage placed by the Witch Boy. You fell in when you were distracted by the female.’

Jaime’s eyes widen with shock as he remembers you. “(Y/N), where is she?” You moan in response to your name, making Jaime swing around to find you. Curled up in a ball in the corner of the cage, you were just regaining consciousness. “(Y/N)!”

“Ow, Jaime,” you whimper as Jaime hurries over to you. “Do you have to be so loud?” You hold your head, a headache piercing through your skull. 

“Sorry,” Jaime apologizes, helping you to sit up and lean against cage wall. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” you say, taking in your situation. “Where are we?”

“We fell into a trap set up by Klarion. I think we’re in some kind of underground cage,” Jaime explains, sitting down next to you. He made sure to keep a appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. 

You hold your head in your hands while the memory of what happened comes back to you. “Oh, I remember. Klarion was about to hit me with a fireball, but you pushed me out of the way,” you recall, sending a sideways glance at Jaime. Jaime blushes under his armor, but luckily for him, you couldn’t see that. 

“Well, I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Jaime justifies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. 

‘Courting the female will not assist with escaping, Jaime Reyes.’

“Shut up,” Jaime mumbled to Scarab quietly. A hurt look crosses your face as you think he is speaking to you. Jaime notices your expression, shifting awkwardly for he didn’t want to explain what Scarab said. He stands up to check the walls of the cage. “I’ll see if I can find a way out.”

Jaime inspects all the barred walls, pulling and shooting at them with his plasma cannon, but nothing seems to work. You stay sitting on the floor as you were too dizzy to stand up. A vague memory of hitting your head floats into your mind, you touch the spot where you hit to find a nasty bump. 

“I can’t seem to find a way out,” Jaime sighs to inform you before sliding down the wall to sit next to you once again. “Looks like we’re stuck here for now.” You nod in response, resting your aching head against the cool wall.

‘From my scans, the female is suffering from a severe concussion.’  

“(Y/N), are you okay,” Jaime asks, studying you with new concern. He scoots closer to you to press gently against your side. You allow your head to fall onto his shoulder, no longer caring about keeping an appropriate distance. 

Closing your eyes, you find the heat from Jaime’s shoulder temporarily soothes your headache. “My head hurts,” you mumble as Jaime’s hand take yours. Both of you sit like that for several minutes with Jaime blushed like crazy at your touch. Soon, Jaime could feel you shivering against his body.

‘The female’s body temperature is dropping lower than is suitable. Activating armor’s heating system.’  

Jaime’s eyes widen as he felt the suit began to heat up on it’s own. Your eyes open at the sudden heat. “Is your suit warming up,” you ask, slowly raising your head off of Jaime’s shoulder to look at him. Jaime’s arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer to him when he sees how unfocused your gaze has become. 

“Si, I didn’t know it did this,” Jaime admits, squeezing your hand. You shiver again before cuddling up close to his side and returning your head to his shoulder. A small smile creeps up on Jaime’s face as the tingling feeling runs down his spine.

‘Your hormone levels are rising, Jaime Reyes.’ 

Jaime grunts softly in response to avoid disturbing you. He thinks about other things until he feels your body fully relax against his.

‘The female is resting. I would advise a change of position to prevent discomfort later.’

At first, Jaime scoffs at the idea for he didn’t want to wake you by moving you. However, when he saw the position your neck was in, he realized Scarab had a point. Jaime slides you carefully to the ground, insuring your head is not jerked around. He lays you on your side before curling up at your back to keep his warm suit against your body. His arms surrounds you protectively as he tucks your head below his chin. Feeling you breathe slowly and evenly in his arms, Jaime slowly begins to fall asleep. 


“I told you they would get together,” a voice rang out, waking Jaime. He tightens his arm around you to reassure you were still there before opening his eyes. 

“Way to go, Blue,” another voice that sounds like Bart says, causing Jaime to sit up in surprise. You mumble a little at the loss of his warm body against your back. Jaime turned to see Bart standing next to him. 

“Impulse, how did you get here,” Jaime asks, surprised at Bart’s presence in the cage. Jaime looks around to see Beast Boy and Robin standing by a newly opened door to the cage. “Oh.”

Robin entered the cage to kneel down next to you, gently shaking you awake. “When you both disappeared, I activated your comlink trackers only to find you lost them when you fell…,” Robin explains as you awaken. Jaime reaches to help you sit up while Robin notices the bump on your head. He begins to carefully prod at it. 

“So, we just jumped down the hole and searched until we found you,” Beast Boy interjects as Robin pressed the tender spot on your head, making you gasp.

“Ow, stop it,” you say, pushing his hand away. 

Robin’s eyes narrow as he turns to Jaime. “Did she hit her head?”

“Yeah, she was dizzy earlier,” Jaime explains as you lean against him once again. Bart sends Jaime a knowing look that he promptly ignores.

“Then, we better get her out of here,” Robin ordered, standing up. “(Y/N), can you stand?”

You try to get onto your feet with Jaime’s help, but soon become so dizzy, you collapse into his arms. “No,” you answer weakly as Jaime lifts you to carry you. Bart and Beast Boy nudge each other at the sight, chuckling. Jaime glares at them while his face burns beneath the armor. 

“Right, let’s get out of here,” Robin directs before heading out of the cage. Jaime follows him, careful to not jar you unexpectedly. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. Jaime has to admit that he liked the feeling of you in his arms.

Bart appears beside the both of you with a gust of wind. “So, when did this happen,” he teases, raising his eyebrows. Jaime shoots Bart a dirty look while you suppress a giggle. 

“Shut up, hermano,” Jaime warns before hurrying ahead to catch up with Robin. Bart and Beast Boy’s laughter echoes from behind you. 

You unbury your head from Jaime’s shoulder to place a soft kiss on his cheek, and Jaime’s heart almost stops. “Thank you,” you whisper into his ear before settling your head back onto his shoulder. 

‘Your hormone levels are rising again, Jaime Reyes.’  

Jaime let out a irritated sigh at Scarab’s words. He thinks about other things to calm himself as he walks towards the exit with you securely in his arms.  

Scene that popped into my head....

He didn’t know the exact moment when coming to her nightly became routine. When it became as normal and essential as breathing. As entrenched in his routine as putting on his mask each day. But it had.
Every night, no matter what happened during the dark overnight hours, he came. No matter what the injuries or what pieces he had to put back together in his own or his brothers’ psyches, he came. Even when dangerously close to dawn, even as the sliver of pinkish yellow light threaded through the streets and alleys, curling around every corner and curve of the city, he came.
Some nights it was only for a few minutes. Others he could steal hours. Most nights he could at least lay down. Every night he held her.
He would silently traverse the fire escape, checking to see if any of the upper joints needed greasing to keep his movements muted. Through the large bay window, gently pushing it open on quiet hinges and closing it behind him. On the good nights, when exhaustion hadn’t yet crept into his bones, he would strip off his gear and lay it down on the sleek wooden floor below the bay window. Other nights, the gear would thud and clang to the floor, only slightly muted if he remembered to drop it on the rug in the middle of the room. Those nights he would lurch across the room to her, feeling the weight and strain of each muscle as he slid carefully on to the bed. The good nights were ones in which he could still startle her.
He would wrap his arms around her, pulling her to him. Generally it was a gentle and open hold. He would softly kiss her shoulder or the very back of her neck before huffing out a deep breath, resting his chin and cheek within the crook of her neck. He could feel her smile and cover his large, scaled hands with her smaller smooth ones. Sometimes he told her abo9ut the night and sometimes she told him about her day. Sometimes, they would just lay there.
Other nights were different. He would slide on to the bed and paw for her, desperately seeking her comfort and familiar shape. His hold would be tight, his muscles bunching from the effort. He would pull her quickly and tightly against him, pressing her back and shoulders against his thick plastron so he could feel and count her heartbeats. He would slide his legs to form the same shape of her, pressing against the backs of her thighs, trying to mold himself against her and feel all of her at once. He would try to envelope her in himself. He would kiss her shoulder, kiss the back of her neck, and then bury his face into the side of her neck. He would desperately hold her, squeezing his eyes shut against everything else.
He would cry sometimes, the hollow of her neck being the only safe place in his entire world to lay open and vulnerable. It would shake the bed, and she would say nothing, merely hold his arms and lace her five fingers among his three until the tremors eased.
He knew he needed these moments. He needed them more than his meditation, more than his training, more than any skill he possessed.
And some nights he shook from the deep terror that closed around his heart at the thought of losing her.

the sky was the color of faded pink cotton candy, so sweet it would dissolve in your mouth. i remember thinking that’s how your lips tasted when we first kissed atop that ferris wheel, a clumsy meeting of clanging teeth and nervous laughter.

eyes shining a kaleidoscope of neon lights, lips bruised blue by the sugar coating my own, the promise of mystery and hope and something good and new curving the edges of your ragged smile;

some days i think i never got off that carnival ride. maybe in another universe, your fingers are tenderly and nervously curling around mine, and your kiss still lingers at the corner of my mouth. maybe in another universe, i asked you to be mine and you said yes.

—  first love is like swallowing fire // (h.q.)
Dear mystery girl,
With no makeup on, acne breaking out and hair not washed for days, I sat in my work clothes at books a million, drawing freckled boys and reading biographies. And you appeared around the corner, with no makeup on and curled hair up in the cutest sort of way. A sweatshirt and a biography in hand, you came around the corner and stopped for a moment, looking at me, before smiling and continuing. I went back to drawing, cannot helping but think of how adorable you were, before seeing you come back around the corner and lock eyes with me once more, only to turn away again. My heart, it skipped, I must admit. It skipped once more when you came towards me and mumbled a short “excuse me” as I looked up at your round face. “I can’t help but notice you’re very beautiful, I just had to say that,” you mumbled, laughing nervously as I fixed my hair and tried to calm my heart. I laughed gently and muttered a short thank you as you disapear around the corner, slowly as if waiting for more of a response before vanishing again, perhaps forever. I may never see you again, and the stars arent in our favor, but mystery girl, thank you for showing me I’m not going unnoticed. I promise you arent either.
—  I just had my day made
Come Away O Human Child

@untamablesouls

The small boy sniffled quietly, tightening his arms around his legs as he curled up into a ball in the corner. One eye was swollen shut and blood dripped slowly from a cut on his cheek, his clothes turning wet and dark in places that the blows had broken skin. Pressing his head roughly against the wall he held back a sob. Why did he have to be such a freak? He didn’t mean to be like this…. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed out of this storage closet for ages. He heard the adults discussing that some important person would be coming around the orphanage today and hopefully would give lots of money to them. Not that any of the money would go to the kids or for actually improving the orphanage. Because of the visitor, only the normal kids would be allowed to be seen today. The building would be cleaned up, the kids put in slightly nicer clothes and given baths. They would act happy and nice to make it look like this was a perfect place to live if a little short on funding. Hisoka on the other hand, was shoved into this closet, the door locked from the outside. He was a little too freaky, too outspoken, and some of his injuries would be difficult to explain away as children being children. Besides, his freakishness would probably scare away the important person and the matron couldn’t have that. He tried to rub some warmth in his arms, the closet being located against an outside wall on the top floor caused it to be rather frigid. Hopefully the important person wouldn’t stay long, and maybe if things went well the matron would let him out of the closet. 

Styracosaurus, Raul Martin

In the swamp, sounds nestle in small spaces, curl around boggy stumps, and brighten at the turn of a corner. Birds and bugs peep and chirp from latticeworks of branches or within the folds of damp tree bark. And at the styracosaur’s feet, the water speaks and ripples out, undulating in little hills under the duckweed. 

From one tree tumbles the cry of a mother bird—tee-tee-tee-tee-tee-tee-tee—calling to let her fledgling know where the nest is. After another step, the reply of the little bird comes to the dinosaur’s ears—ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee. The baby is not far from the mother, just hopping up the next tree over. 

Dragonflies hover by, their beating wings like origami songs. The sizzle of the flies that sip vapor from the nostrils is less lovely. 

Under a mossy branch, black insects with stubby antennae rattle a mechanical pulse. It’s an alien sound, almost too precise and fast to be organic. The bugs hush when the dinosaur nears. Their timpani are not tapped for his pleasure. 

ISN'T HE PRETTY? ISN'T HE INSANE? (part 2)

summary: in a world where a person’s soulmate has an identical birthmark, police intern phil lester is completely alone; that is, until he starts receiving cruel gifts from a psychotic serial killer. seeking out the comfort of a boy on the phone, dan howell, while desperately trying to figure out the killer’s messages, time is running out by each fractured second.

words: 2.3k

warnings: alcohol, drugs/drugged persons, swearing, graphic/grotesque mentions of blood on animals

a/n: hello friends it’s calista hovvells and abs got her computer taken away right as she finished this sO I AM HERE TO SAVE THE DAY AND POST IT FOR UR READING PLEASURE PLS ENJOY THIS FIC IS THE BOMB.EDU 

part 1

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[dr]OUTLANDER Drabbles: Newborn.

Especially for @outlanderedandoverhere, who asked for a wee scene between Jamie and his ladies. I hope you like, tis only a dribble drabble. 

– — –

The candles fluttered, every breath she took billowing lightly over the flickering flame. Still she slept on, the birth weighing heavily on her well-travelled body. She’d walked halfway across Scotland, all the way back to him. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she curled herself, protectively, around wee Brianna.

Jamie huddled in the corner of the room, watching them sleep. Aching to join them, but eager to take in every inch of her before he did so.

He’d sent her away, meaning for her to raise the babe in the sanctuary of the twentieth century, but she’d disobeyed him. She’d hidden herself away, kept herself sheltered from rumour and speculation, and had waited for word on him before bringing herself home just in time for the birth of his daughter.

Tears fell, unbidden, from his eyes as he realised just what she’d sacrificed to bring him this gift.

He hadn’t expected to survive Culloden, and when he had, he hadn’t expected to ever see Claire or the bairn, ever again. To have her here truly was a miracle.  

A dim orange glow coated the two most important women in his life. The small blast of light emanating from the candles illuminated only their faces.

“*Jamie…*”  Claire whispered, causing Brianna to snuffle and squirm closer to her still-sleeping mama.

“I’m here, mo nighean, dinna fash.” Tip-toeing quietly across the room, he knelt at the side of the small cot and ran his fingers through the loose tendrils of her damp locks, the sweat still staining her brow from the exertions of the previous day. “I’ll ne’er leave ye again, ye and the bairn will always have me, aye?”

Wiping away the moisture that lingered on his cheeks, he knelt in silence, watching his newborn daughter fuss and scrunch her nose in sleep. She was truly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Bree-anah,” he pronounced, his fingers brushing at the delicate curls forming on her tiny head, “ghrèin mo bheatha, mo beag ruaidh, tha gaol agam ort.(*)

She was red, just like him. The tight, soft hairs felt almost unreal against his large hands. Claire had told him it wouldn’t last, that as she grew in those first precious weeks it would fall out and be replaced by thicker, more permanent locks. But for now, he could admire her fresh beauty.

Slipping himself onto the bed beside them, he laid his arm around Claire, encasing her, and Bree, in his warmth. Claire, still blissfully unaware, shimmied herself closer, her body fixated on locating Jamie’s. It wasn’t long before he was snoozing along with them, the gravity of what had happened in that room only a few hours before finally pulling him under. Claire was safe, the bairn also. It might not be an easy ride, but he was willing to lay down everything he was worth to make sure his little family thrived as they should.

Jenny strode into the small room, intent on fetching Claire up to feed the babe.

She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her and Jamie, wrapped up in one another, Brianna snuggled tightly between them.

Pulling the wee plaid blanket over Jamie’s legs, she ran her fingers gently over her brother’s forehead and smiled as he twitched and burrowed himself closer to his lassies.

“Sleep well, all of ye.” She whispered as she crept out of the room, and closed the door gently behind her.

– — –

Gaelic: (*) Sunshine of my life, my wee red, I love you.

When I Come Home

“There’s just nothing I can say that doesn’t make me look like the bad guy because you are a conniving son of a b-” Caroline said as Klaus interjected with a hushing gesture.

“Sticks and stones, Love” he says unperturbed as he leans his forearms on either side of her doorway throwing her an impish grin as she gapes at him.

“You wouldn’t want little Lizzie to hear what Mommy’s been calling Daddy and repeat it,” he said in a mischievously hushed tone as he walked into their home.

“Besides,” he says wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer their noses barely touching, “My mother was a witch.”

“You’re not cute,” she mutters as he pecks her lips chastely in greeting as she hugs him to her snuggling herself to his chest before looking back at him.

“It’s genetic,” he said spotting blonde curls from around the corner before a loving smile popped out of the side of the entrance of the hall.

He gave Caroline a tight squeeze before he let her go chasing after the girl in question, “Lizzie have you been a good girl for Momma,” he asked as he hurried to his knees.

“Nope,” his daughter said with a shake of her head as she hugged her father

Klaus looked back at Caroline with a look that said, “See? Genetic.”

-

Caroline rolled her eyes as she scooted passed them, “Daddy’s home so you can take your nap now,” she said with a playful purse of her lips as Lizzie giggled.

Klaus stood up following her into the kitchen he felt his stomach grumble as he tossed his daughter, “Alright, off to bed with you,” he said in a playful tone as Lizzie kissed his cheek.

“None of that,” he said with a smile as he lead her down the hall to her bedroom feeling her settle into his shoulder a small yawn escaping her.

He sat with her on the rocking chair until she fell asleep on his chest to the sounds of his humming, Caroline was the singer, he could pretend for her though.

-

His stomach grumbled once again the aroma of food wafting through the home was torture as he held onto his daughter not wanting to wake her.

He heard a familiar stifled laugh that made him chuckle in his throat, “She was tired,” Caroline said softly as she made her way to him gently lifting Lizzie up.

Klaus sighed as he watched Caroline settle Lizzie in with her wolf and blanket before striding over to him and setting herself over his lap, “I love you,” she murmured against his cheek.

“And I you,” he said lovingly into her ear nuzzling her neck, “I’m going to maim Elijah for making me leave this morning.” Klaus said hoping to make it up to his wife.

“The new chapter of The Fallen Originals is taking forever to re-write,” he said rubbing his eyes as Caroline straddled his lap, “The graphics are all wrong,” he muttered.

“Hmm,” he mumbled as Caroline kissed his neck her body pressing against his, “Never mind about work,” he said as she nipped his earlobe.

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collsey/micheoff eventual micollsey story - (what should i name this?) - 

part 1 - part 2 

He doesn’t mean to, but as Geoff finds some corner to sit in and curl his body around the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee, he replays the scene in his head.

If he’d have been more awake, he would’ve noticed that the person he was all over was most definitely not Michael. Trevor is slimmer, a little taller, his neck longer. The curve of his ass under Geoff’s palm had been different, the hip against Geoff’s hand sharper and thinner, his weight a little slighter and easier to press into the counter and he’d even smelled different when Geoff had stooped to –

Geoff, he thinks. Stop.

Trevor is a good sport. Surely he’d played along and pretended to flirt with Geoff because it was a good way to defuse the tension of Geoff’s enormous fuckup.

But still, Trevor hadn’t exactly freaked out. He had barely reacted as if anything were out of the ordinary. Hell – his body hadn’t even tensed up under Geoff’s hands as Geoff had roughly sucked a mark into the pale skin of his –

GEOFF, he thinks. STOP.

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Diffident - A Scarlet Vision Oneshot

I have to make it clear that I think this is very out of character for Vision and I struggled with writing this, but I gave this prompt my best shot. It’s not my best writing and it’s short but it’s Scarlet Vision so I hope you guys like it. 


Vision’s footsteps faltered slightly as he reached the 16th floor of the Tower because he knew who would be around the corner, curled up in her favourite seat next to the window, reading intently. A woman he found himself thinking about more often that he would like to admit – Wanda Maximoff. 

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Sparkling Twins (open but AU to anything I have recently done)

Alpha curled around her younger twin Obsidian, they were huddled in a corner away from the other orphan sparklings. They had lost their Creators in a home invasion, the other orphans didn’t like them at all. “I’m scared Alpha” Obsidian whimpered and Alpha rubbed her sister’s wings trying to calm her.

Dean curled his fingers around the steering wheel as he turned the corner. The windows were rolled down while the radio was up obnoxiously loud. His fingers were tapping along to the music as he cut through the neighbor hood. It was a quicker way to the beach. As he drove along he saw a familiar figure. “Hey!” He called out the window and slowing down a little more. “You wanna ride somewhere?”


All of Our Flaws // closed

Stevie sat in the corner of the room, his tail curled tightly around his thigh. Slitted blue eyes watch for his ‘caretakers’ to make another appearance. His body is still covered in half healed wounds from the previous attempts to break his spirit.

A low growl slips through his clenched teeth as a new scent hit his nose. One that belongs to an Alpha of some sort,

cap-steven-grant-rogers