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priceyprice · 4 months

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Prof! Price

Christmas ver [18+]

Prof!Price would've been going to one of his favorite stores after classes and buying a Christmas gift for his precious lover.

It would be a lie if he said he wasn't thinking about her present a month ago. He's been observing her —more than he does daily— and trying to guess what she needs, what she wants or what's perfect for her.

Of course, he would've given her the moon, the sun, the entire universe, but for obvious reasons, he couldn't. And even if he could, no sun can shine brighter than her. No star can outshine the ones she has in her eyes.

He describes her as the moonlight in a quiet garden of lilies of the valleys and acacias.

He would've gone to his favorite jewelry shop, looking through the necklaces and bracelets, trying to see what would complement her.

That's when he stops at the ring section.

Oh my, of course he thought about a beautiful wedding ring wrapped around her finger while he made love to her in a beach house, marking the beginning of their forever.

But it's too soon for that.

Professor Price has reached a mature age that makes him want to establish with his partner and live the rest of his life with her. He already had his days of youth, so he's pretty much relaxed now. But of course, she's much younger than him, and she needs to explore the world.

She's still a student.

She's his student.

So he bought a ring, but not a wedding nor an engagement ring. He bought a promise ring.

He was hoping she would accept what he had in mind.

When it's time to open the gifts, it would be the two of them together sitting in front of his Christmas tree —he told her to decorate how she wanted to because everything she does he will like it— and nothing but his fireplace giving the only source of light.

She went first and took her present in front of her. "Okay, so... My gift is very common for you, since you have a collection and always try to match it with your clothes. But I really want to give you this."

John took the present with a confused smile and opened it, seeing it was two classic black watches.

"I love them, but why two of the same?" He noticed how her cheeks started to get that color he loves so much. "Because they are couple watches."

His eyes go back to the watches again, and this time, he saw the strap of a watch was slightly different than the other. His chest burst with so much joy.

She got them matching watches.

Couple watches.

He looks up at her with a big smile. She smiled, but it was very obvious she was nervous. "I understand if you don't like it since it's a simple watch compared with the ones you have and-..."

Her lips snapped shut when he took her hand and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. "This is the best watch I have ever seen. I love it so much. Thank you."

She stared at him, feeling happy that he liked the watches.

John took the watches out of the box and took her wrist, placing a soft kiss before placing the watch. He also took his watch out of the box and put it on.

She placed her wrist beside his wrist and smiled. "I like it."

"I love it," he said with a big smile.

Price has a lot of watches. He likes to use them and combine them with his clothes or shoes in a really classy way. His friends even gifted him watches, and he liked them. But this watch was his most precious one.

Because it was from her.

And everything that comes from her is worshipped by Jonathan Price.

He took a deep sigh and placed the box aside to take his present. He could see how she looked curiously the box, trying to guess what's inside of it. "I will give you this present, but I need you to close your eyes, Love."

She closed them with a little smile on her face and a cute little blush on her cheeks. Price opened the box, took out the ring, and took her left hand in his. "Open them."

Her eyes landed on the morganite ring, and her heart nearly stopped.

"Is that...?"

"I want to give you this promise ring as a symbol of my love for you. I can't give you an engagement ring because I want to kiss you, hug you, and hold you without feeling the need to hide from anybody. I give you this ring and promise to replace it with a beautiful engagement ring the same day you graduate, and I'm no longer your professor." He grabbed her finger and slowly put the delicate gold ring and kissed it before looking at her again. "I already lived my college days, but you still need to explore and meet more people, so when you're not ready to take it to the next step you can always bring back the ring to me and-..."

She took his head in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, his words dying on his tongue. "I'll wait until graduation. I'll wait all my life if it means to be with you."

Price smiled, his beard moving and cute lines showing in his eyes as he passed his arms behind her back and pulled her into his lap, kissing her in a slow way. "I love you."

"I love you too."

This was a big step the two of them wanted to take in their lives. They will have to overcome prejudice, criticism, couple problems, personal problems, and more.

But they can agree in one thing;

They wanted to be together until their last breath.

She passed her arms around his big shoulders, "I'm going to look for my phone in the room. Wait for me here." Price nodded, letting her go from his lap.

Little did he know.

Her phone was on the sofa.

A few moments later, she's back in the living room, but Price didn't notice her presence because he's too focused on the watch, trying to adjust the hour.

"John."

He looked up with a smile that disappeared within a second when his eyes fell on her.

She was in front of him with a sexy red lingerie. His eyes roamed every inch of her body, noticing how it hugged every curve perfectly and made her skin stand out.

Definitely, red was her color.

The fabric was delicate, and it has a few red flowers on it. But he could still see her skin below that fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Price felt that familiar painful throbbing starting to appear down there, making him uncomfortable in his pants.

"Do you like it?" She asked in a shy voice, trying not to look for too long at his blue orbs.

He just sat there, observing her in silence. He wasn't believing this was all for him. She looks so beautiful and sexy.

Price also noticed how she was standing, looking slightly nervous, so he decided to take out his hand for her. She took it but gasped when he pulled her into his lap, passing one arm behind her back. His eyes looked again at her body, smashing against him with their chests pressed. He could feel the softness of her skin even though he has a shirt and she has a bra on. "You look like a goddess."

He puts two cushions on the floor from the sofa that was behind him before pushing her down to the cushions without taking eyes off her figure. He took his shirt off and put his thighs on either side of her parted legs.

Her blush didn't go unnoticed. No matter how many times they did it, he always had the same effect as he did for the first time when she saw his body.

"And I'm going to worship you like one."

Without any warning, he smashed his lips with hers, going for a deep kiss. Their tongues danced with each other, trying to assert dominance, but eventually, she gave in. His hands roamed every inch of her body, stopping at her hips while hers were on his short hair, caressing it.

He angled himself in between her legs and started to do light thrusts, making her gasp between kisses. "J...John..." she said in a soft voice, as if she was pleading for something.

He broke the kiss, and his eyes fell on her face, staring at her as if Pierre-Auguste Renoir painted her and asked Michael Angelo to sculpt her. She looked so beautiful under him, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, skin glowing, and her hair spread against the cushion. She really looked like a goddess.

Price thrusted this time a little deeper, looking how her eyebrows frown together as her mouth fell open with a moan slipping off her tongue like it was honey.

He lowered himself again. This time, his lips grazed her neck softly, leaving her with a tingling sensation. "You're so beautiful," he said between kisses, now thrusting her a little faster. A quiet moan escaped from her lips when she felt the rough material of his jeans against the fabrics of her panties. "Oh, John..."

His jeans were about to burst at any second. It was almost painful for him. He wanted to take her right there and fuck her senseless, but he's a patient man. He wanted to take his time with her.

Although he's not sure if he's going to last much.

His lips kept caressing her skin downwards, stopping at her chest. Light kisses grazed the soft flesh of her breasts. She arched her back, getting closer to his mouth when she felt his lips giving a kiss with a little suck directly to her clothed but visible nipple. A moan escaped from her lips as her eyes fluttered closed when he did the same with the other one.

"You're so sensitive, love. Look at how hard they are."

"It- It's because... you're tea- teasing me, John." He chuckled darkly, and she wriggled under him when she felt his breath fans on her nipple.

His lips kept giving light kisses to her ribcage, then stomach, then going down until he got to her pelvis stopping for a few seconds before smirking on her skin and keeping his trail until he's just in front of her intimate area.

Her hands flew to his hair the second he gave a light kiss to her clothed heat, hips buckling slightly. "Oh my..."

He gave another light kiss, this time to her entrance. "Lord... Price..."

"What?"

"S-stop... teasing and...just..."

"And just what?"

"Fuck I don't know! Just... do something..."

He went back down, and this time, he went for a open mouth kiss. Her back arched again when she felt his tongue licking her wetness throughout the thin fabric. His tongue felt hot. Her hips buckled again when he gave a deep kiss to her bud. "Oh my gosh..."

His lips sucked her folds like it was the last thing he would've tasted her. She cried at the feeling of the roughness of the fabric and the rasp of his beard in contrast to his soft and warm tongue.

It was driving her crazy.

His hands went to either side of her hips, grasping the hem of her panties. "Lift your hips, love," he said in a husky voice. She lifted her hips, and he pushed her panties down, disposing them on a corner of the living room, not caring where it went.

He went back to look at her before running a finger through all her wetness.

"You're so wet, love."

"Price..."

A loud moan escaped from her lips when a finger disappeared inside. "Oh my... yes..."

She didn't even have the time to adjust when the second finger was already inside. Her hips buckled up, but he held her down with his other hand. "Does it feel good?"

"Ah!... yes... it- oh my... it feels so good..."

He smirked at the same time he kept thrusting with his fingers, feeling her walls clench at him like her life depended on it.

"Ev... everything you do... feels fuck.... feels so good."

His blue eyes darkened. "Everything you want, I will give it to you. Like the goddess you are."

His fingers increased his pace, making sinful sounds with her wet skin. She moaned, feeling that familiar knot in her lower belly.

Price could feel her clenching around his fingers in the unique way she does when she's close. "Are you close, my love?"

She nodded, throwing her head back in ecstasy. "Oh... yes, I am..."

His fingers picked up a much faster pace as her hips buckled, and she wriggled beneath him. "Price I'm going to-..."

Then he stops.

"Fuck! Price?!" She raised her head and looked at him with a glint of anger in her beautiful orbs. He smiled and put his body on top of her, careful not to crush her with his weight. "I was so close and you-..." Her words died when she felt his tip going up and down her folds.

Oh this is better, she thought.

Without any warning, he slams his hips against hers, taking a cry out from the depths of her throat.

"Oh my gosh... Price..." She puts her arms against the floor. His pace was deep but slow. It was like he's sending a message within his thrusts.

An intimate way to say that he loves her, so much.

One thrust made her arch her back, and he used that opportunity to attach his mouth to her clothed breasts. His tongue swirled around her sensitive bud, damping the fabric with his saliva. She whined at the feeling of the rough fabric and his tongue against the sensitive skin. She's pretty sure tomorrow she couldn't even put a normal bra on without whining about rubbing against her.

Price raised his head to look at the beautiful sight under him.

Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes staring at him as her mouth tried to form a coherent sentence, but it was a failure to do so when his length was almost kissing her cervix.

But what caught his attention was something else.

The ring.

It was shining with the light of the fireplace as it hugged perfectly the tone of her skin.

It almost looked like an engagement ring.

A flash passed through John's mind. His dream of making love to her with her engagement ring on was so much like this. He caresses her lower arm and slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. The watches touching each other.

"I love you."

His pace increased, and she moaned loudly. "Oh, I'm close again..."

"You too, baby? Let's come together." She nodded rapidly as he picked up more his pace. The sound of skin slapping was getting more and more louder as her moans filled the entire living room.

"I'm so close Price."

"Me too, love." He said with a low growl when he felt how she was clenching him. "Fuck..." He said feeling how tightly he felt inside of her.

"I'm going to-..."

Then they snapped.

Price puts his forehead against hers as their orgasms hit them with so much force that it only came a quiet moan in each other mouths. Her wetness getting in his pubes and happy trail while his load oozes out of her, leaking to the floor and the cushion beneath her.

Price collapsed on top of her, his head on his chest, while she caressed his hair with her nails. He plants a soft kiss on where her heart is and smiles. His thumbs drawing circled in her hips.

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas, my bear."

Their rapid breathing was the only thing they could heard until a giggle comes out of her mouth.

"What?"

"We didn't lasted long."

He chuckled at that. "I don't fucking care."

He's right. Price doesn't care about that. In fact, he doesn't care about anything in this world if it means being with her like this, in the privacy of his home with his head resting against her chest and still inside of her like it was meant to be for the rest of his life.

This was the best Christmas he's ever celebrated.

Two weeks later, he's in his classroom writing on his board the new topic for the new semester. His face is serious, and even some students find it scary. He turned around and looked at the entire class. "Good morning, students. Today's the beginning of a new semester. We have so much to do, so get your notebook and start to write."

The students started to take out their notebooks with zero motivation, but no one said anything, not wanting to get on his bad side.

His eyes stopped on her for a second, only to find out she's already looking at him. She raised her finger and tapped her watch lightly.

He turned his back around to the students and started to write. His smile never left knowing the significance of the watch he had in his wrists as she's using the ring he gave her.

That was their way to show the world they're together.

The masterlist of this series is in the John Price Masterlist.

I'm so sorry for the late post, lol. I was having problems with my tumblr.

I apologize for mistakes or misspelling. Any suggestions are appreciated.🫶

#captain price #john price x reader #john price #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #fanfic #cod 141 #prof price #professor price

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violetpixiedust · 2 years

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thinking about stevie who wears one of shy!reader’s rings on his right pinkie. he’s not much of a jewellery guy, unless you count his late grandfather’s watch that routinely sits atop his left wrist, secured with a crafted leather strap in a neutral shade of brown. so it’s glaringly obvious when one day a familiar dainty gold band with a petite, pastel pink gemstone accents the boy’s right pinkie. it glints cheekily with nearly every movement he makes, causing each member of the gang to suck their lips together in amusement when they first notice it. or in eddie’s case, shoot the silky haired boy a shit eating grin, prompting steve to roll his dusky amber eyes with a whisper of a smirk in response. the ring corresponds with four other dainty gold bands with similarly coloured gemstones that decorate your delicate fingers. one particular heart shaped morganite jewel never fails to sparkle the brightest as it rests over steve’s sun kissed cheek whenever you kiss him. silently claiming him as your love to the leering women of hawkins’, despite your anxiously thrumming heart. steve doesn’t mind though, far from it actually. he craves the possession that seeps through the cracks of your shy sweetheart persona, knees buckling with the knowledge that you routinely prioritize marking him as your own over preserving your bashful nature. the animalistic urge to claim you right back doesn’t take long to possess steve, much to everyone’s disgust. besides eddie’s, because let’s be real, he finds the entire pissing contest between you two very entertaining. steve would often pull down whatever high collar you were wearing to conceal his mark, perhaps if you had school or work that day, since the frigid autumn weather of indiana allowed you to do so. it wouldn’t matter where you were, however steve liked to do this in public more often than not. he would brush the heart shaped love bite he crafted beneath your jaw with his rosy lips, touching up the mark every week without fail to make sure everyone knew that you were his and his only. you would always chastise him for the juvenile action, despite never explicitly telling him to stop. only ever hiding the flush that cascaded over your doll-like face within the crook of his neck, shyly whining when he pointed out the fact. steve would smirk wolfishly as he pulled you out from the haven of his freckled throat, his veiny right hand cradling your jaw before murmuring hotly, spearmint flavoured breath washing over you. “just gotta let them know what’s mine, hm? you understand that.. right, angel?” the weight of your own ring that adorned his pinky finger would intentionally kiss your kitten soft skin, fluttering you back down to submission much to steve’s sly pleasure. needless to say, everyone in hawkins’ was painfully aware of your relationship.

#i just want a heart shaped love bite from steve there i said it!#also he can’t wait for summer #he would hide all of your concealer ♡#pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚#steve harrington brainrot #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x girly!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #possessive!steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington

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strayfoxxchan · 1 year

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Pairing: skz!Bang Chan x f!reader

Genre: Song Fic if you squint, Fluff? Comfort? Idk

Content Warning: Mention of alcohol, mention of harassment

Soundtrack: Morganite Wings - Dvii

A/N: Thanks @/thevampywolf for proofreading!

Don't you want to know what it feels like?

Being exposed in these lights

I see it in your eyes

Think that we'll be reaching for the heavens all night

So hold on to this feeling 'till it's over

Know that you won't love me when we're sober

This is all so temporary

It'll all be gone before you know it

But let's not get it twisted

I still love your faded kisses

And even if it's just for a moment, I want it

Let's make this last 'till we both feel something

There was something about a live music show on a Friday night that gave you just enough energy to make it through the weekend. The dim lights, the pulse of human bodies moving in sync, the sounds of an overjoyed audience… There was nothing like it.

You’d made it a routine of sorts. Even if the group playing at the local club wasn’t one you knew, you still tried to get dolled up to go out. Your mental health hadn’t been the best lately; the stressors of being an adult, living on your own for the first time, and working a 9-5 in a big city weren’t as much of a dream as you had expected it would be when you left home. Doing something like this was an excellent excuse to pull yourself out of mundanity at least once a week. It was just a bonus if you did happen to know the group or artist that was playing. Tonight was one of those nights.

Standing at the back of the venue gave you a better sense of scale: it was a small club with a smaller stage, but people were packed tightly together like sardines. The artist didn’t take up much room, armed with only a guitar and a small production setup. Despite that, the audience was rabid. You found yourself swaying side to side, half-finished drink in hand, eyes closed and taking in the vibe.

A hand snakes around your waist, but you are here alone. Your eyes snap open, and you wheel around, pushing the stranger away from you.

“What the fuck,” you growl at the man. He looks back at you with a grin, reaching back to you and grabbing your wrist. He has a vice-like grip that you just can’t shake off. You struggle with him briefly before another man walks up, holding the Chesire man and pushing him off you. He’s wearing a baseball cap and a face mask, obscuring his features.

“Get off of her,” the muscular man growls as you look on in disbelief. For a moment, you’re convinced an all-out brawl might break out. The two stare each other down, the Cheshire man starting to get in the masked man’s face. The masked man doesn’t back down, which seems enough for the Chesire man. He shoves passed the man in the mask, butting his shoulder against him as he walks away.

“Are you okay?” He says, reaching his hand towards your shoulder but stopping short.

You came to this club to decompress, not to cause issues. Instead of answering, you head straight back to the bar. You perch on a stool, burying your head in your hands. The man follows behind you.

“Why did you do that? I could have protected myself,” you grumble through your fingers.

“I promised I would protect STAY,” he laughs, motioning at the Wolf Chan keychain hanging from your purse.

You drop your hands and arch an eyebrow, staring directly at him. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”

On occasion, you’d wondered if the “K-pop superhero disguise” was effective in any way, and now you knew. The longer you stared at his eyes in the dimly lit bar area of the venue, the more you recognized him. You reach up and bat the brim of his baseball cap down over his face.

“Are you crazy?!” Your eyes dart around you. “Isn’t someone going to recognize you?!”

“You didn’t,” Chan laughs momentarily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Protect STAY,” you scoff, rubbing your face.

“Y’gonna thank me?” His eyes gleam, and he’s smiling under his N95.

“Thank you, Christopher. You are relieved of your protective duties,” you wave your hand back at the crowd. “Enjoy the show.” You were too shocked to process what was happening.

He sits down on the barstool beside you. “So… you come here often?”

“Oh, we’re doing that?” You can feel yourself flushing. Thankfully, the lighting is awful, and you’re optimistic he can’t see it. You down the rest of your drink for courage before shoving it away. “Why yes, yes I do.” You give a mock-flirtatious flick of your hair.

“Wait, do you really?” He laughs. “How often?”

“Every Friday,”

“You know that much music?!” He looks aghast (you think).

“Not even a little bit.”

“Then why?” There’s a sparkle in his eye that you can’t quite decipher. He rests an elbow on the bar and rests his chin on his hand.

“I just… like the atmosphere, I guess. When you’re feeling less than alive, sometimes the beat of the bass and the crowd's pulse moving in sync is just the right medicine.” You look away wistfully for a moment. “But I do love this guy,” you motion at the stage.

He holds a hand out towards you. “Dance with me?”

“Dance with you?” Your eyes widen.

“Thank you isn’t enough. Dance with me,” Chan says, a touch more forcefully, still grinning.

“I can’t dance,” you stare at him, taking his hand and sliding off the barstool. The lightness in your head from the alcohol was making you brave.

The two of you have danced for ages. Chan dances with you as if no one is watching and forgets everything around you. You forget that you can’t dance. For a moment, you’re the only two in this club.

You stand on your toes and let your lips touch his mask; it’s more of a smile than a kiss. “On behalf of STAY,” you say, loud enough for him to hear over the music.

It shocks him enough to stop dancing briefly. Then, emboldened by your courage, he pulls you close and slides his mask down his chin.

“On behalf of me,” he smiles, dimples on display before kissing you.

#bang chan #chris bang #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x reader #christopher bang #bang chris #christopher bahng #skz scenarios #skz #stray foxx #stray kids imagines #stray kids #fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan

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punkeropercyjackson · 10 days

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Gonna be petty for a minute and complain about the fact that the ONE Bluepunk(Percy and Hobie,platonic)post not by me said Hobie would be friends with Percy because Percy is a skater boy

I am so sick and tired of the skater boy allegations against Percy because 1.She's transfem-coded and hates masculinity and most men in-text and 2.Even if not to his level,she is a legit anarchist like Hobie is!!!She's anti-authority because she grew up facing nonstop ableist and classist bullying and to a lesser extent emasculation from her tormenters too and had an abusive stepdad,she hates richness as a concept and billionaries personally(Rachel dosen't count,she makes it clear she wants to destroy her dad's company when she gets older + It's implied Percy joined her at protests and charities),she's been a beater of bullies of ALL SIZES including fucking gods????Which is kinda the whole plot of series?and she even did the same thing for Nico and Hazel Hobie did for Gwen and Miles by providing shelter and care for an abused queer minor + 'I see a black kid in trouble and i'm gonna help them out' typa of beat and she's a real friend to them too instead of treating them as tokens.Do i even to remind y'all of how hyperpopular afrolatino Percy was and still rightfully is because like with her being a tgirl,there's so much subtext in the books it makes way more sense than her being white and also like it it's pretty much universal approved by the irl group

Sigh.Yeah,they'd be instant best friends and close enough to see eachother as family but Not Like That.Hobie probs thinks Avril is a loser in canon and Percy never brought her up in the books but she DID give Nico a Ramones shirt as a gift and has 'I am impertinent' and 'The sea does not like to be restrained' to Hobie's 'I hate the a.m,i hate the p.m,i hate labels' and 'I don't believe in consistency' and you can shove in a joke of Percy wanting blue laces for a Secret ReasonTM she won't tell and Hobie is giving big time mama's boy and has adultification trauma as a core aspect of his character.Percy makes blue food for Hobie and teaches him to do black glamrock looks like hers.Hobie diy's personalized blue beads for Percy and teaches her how to play the guitar.They shit talk posers together and she goes to his shows and they play video games on her emulator and go to the beach every other saturday and she visists his dimension on the regular to get a taste of Tartarus again and he gets a celestial bronze AND mystical morganite sword that disguises itself as a guitar with a stygian iron and Mrs O'Leary and Spidermutt have playdates and Percy and Hobie are afro-dominican/jamaican/caribbean solidarity

Yeah okay i'm good now but also sidenote Sk8ter Boi qualifies as more of a sexyman than The Onceler at this point,WHERE IS THE GRIP COMING FROM,IT'S BEEN OVER 20 YEARS??????Anyway i love Hobie and his hot older sister

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tornrose24 · 4 months

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Behold, my crystal/gem collection that I started this year! (Should you consider one for yourself, I HIGHLY recommend getting the ones that appeal/call out to you the most, given how much they can cost if you aren't careful with your selection.) While they might not gaurantee what they offer, they still felt nice to have around.

In the center we have:

Blue Lace Agate the shy gem

Peach Adventurine the ‘shut the loud negative voices out of my head’ gem

Iolite the face your issues gem

Clockwise we got:

Howlite the ‘get rid of anxiety and go to sleep’ gem

Lemon Chrysoprase the success and ‘increases fidelity and fertility’ gem

Adventurine the ‘I got this for like 50 cents’ gem

Red Jasper the LGBTQ friendly gem

Morganite the ‘help you find a soulmate’ gem

Dalmation Jasper the good luck and ‘is good with animals’ gem

Grossular Garnet the ‘make your imagination become a reality and I make you think of mint chocolate chip’ gem

(Ok the next two are Lepidolite and Rubelite but I honestly forgot which is which. Rubelite is supposed to be a passion/courage gem and Lepidolite is the ‘face emotional trauma’ gem)

Turritella Agate the ‘give you access to past lives and connects you to homeland/ancestors’ and ‘I also got this for 50 cents’ gem.

Cinabrite the ‘fllow your dreams’ gem.

Plum Agate the ‘will help you with job seeking’ gem

Carnelian the ‘I got this near Yellowstone at a giftshop’ gem

Snowflake Obsidian the ‘also from Yellowstone’ gem

Sodalite the writers and teachers as well as ‘I’m also good for students but I wont guarantee you’ll pass that exam’ gem

#gem collection #crystal collection #i used to be fond of crystals and gems as a kid #gems #crystals #most of these I got for reasons #they might not do much but they feel good to hold for a bit

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the-slumberparty · 1 year

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Gemstone Asks:

ALEXANDRITE

Alexandrite are known to change colour and believed to possess magic and bring balance . What part of the creative process do you feel brings balance to you? What is the most magical part of creating for you?

AMETHYST

Amethyst is said to bring calmness. What do you finding the most calming atmosphere for creating?

AQUAMARINE

Aquamarine is used as a defense against negative energy and known to bring courage. What are ways that you work through or avoid burn out as creator?

CITRINE

Citrine represents generosity. What is the best compliment or comment you’ve ever received on a piece you’ve created?

DIAMOND

Diamonds are the hardest and most resilient of the stones. What do you believe is your best work that still stands up today? What do you like most about this work?

EMERALD

It was believed that emerald could assist in seeing the future. What future pieces or ideas do you look forward to writing the most?

GARNET

Garnet symbolises trust, lifelong friendship, loyalty, and passion. Who are some creators you admire? What do you admire most about them?

LAPIS LAZULI

Lapis Lazuli is known to represent honesty, harmony, and self-awareness. What was your greatest learning opportunity as a creator?

MORGANITE

Morganite is associated with innocence, joy, peace, and confidence. How would you compare yourself now with yourself when you began to create?

OPAL

Opals are often described as otherworldly. What’s an unusual or new idea/concept/trope you would like to explore in your creative process?

PEARL

Pearls can take any amount of time from six months to years to form. What does the typical creative process look like for you, from clam to shining pearl?

PERIDOT

Peridots are associated with fire and sun. Write or create a piece that includes these elements.

PINK TOURMALINE

Pink tourmaline is believed to reduce stress, anxiety, fear, and depression. What are ways you have overcome these emotions when facing obstacles in the creative process?

ROSE QUARTZ

Rose quartz is said to be a healing stone. Talk about your favourite comfort fic/creation. Either that you’ve created or consumed.

RUBY

Ruby’s are often compared to fire. What’s the fire that drives you to create?

SAPPHIRE

Sapphires are known as an honest stone. What’s a moment of honesty that helped you in your creative process?

SPINEL

The Spinel is an optimistic stone. Do you have an ultimate goal for creating? What is it? If you could do anything, what would you do?

TANZANITE

Tanzanite is believed to transfer negative energy to positive energy. Was there ever a time you were able to turn a negative experience or obstacle into a positive outcome in your creative process?

TOPAZ

Topaz is said to bring confidence and good fortune. What is some advice you have for fellow creators?

TURQUOISE

Turqouise is seen as grounding those who wear it and bringing good results. What is the best advice you’ve gotten as a creator?

#week 2 #ask game #navy and roo's sleepover #writer event #creator event #reader event

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waiting-on-a-dream · 4 months

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 (𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝟑 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚)

Suzume: When is Taro-kun coming for me?

Haruto: Um.

Suzume: Is he coming?

Haruto: He's on his way. In the meantime, let's talk about what brought you here in the first place.

Suzume: How long before he gets here?

Haruto: Let's see if he can get here after I extract your music video. During your last interrogation, you said that you had to kill to protect your boyfriend.

Suzume: Yes. She wouldn't stop bothering him.

Haruto: Stalking?

Suzume: Hm, yes.

Haruto: Really?

Suzume: Taro-kun told me he told her to back off multiple times, but she kept trying to flirt with him. It made him uncomfortable.

Haruto: That's what he told you?

Suzume: What?

Haruto: Taro-kun sounds like a strong guy. Why did he need you to handle things for him?

Suzume: He didn't. I just did it for him.

Haruto: Why?

Suzume: To protect him.

Haruto: Is that all there is to it?

Suzume: Yes. I want him to be happy.

Haruto: I think you did it so he would appreciate you.

Suzume: ...

Haruto: Am I wrong?

Suzume: You don't know what you're talking about.

Haruto: Don't I?

Suzume: Taro-kun appreciates me as I am.

Haruto: Your trial 1 music video indicates otherwise.

Suzume: He- He gets angry sometimes, that's all.

Haruto: You guys argue?

Suzume: It's easier to let him get it out of his system.

Haruto: So you let him yell at you.

Suzume: We tolerate each other's outbursts.

Haruto: I'm sure even you recognize signs of abuse.

Suzume: I'm not an angel either.

[Bell rings, mechanical sounds in the back.]

Haruto: There's plenty you haven't told me yet.

Suzume: Let my music video speak for itself.

Haruto: Fine. Prisoner 004, sing your sins!

[MV description - SEVER]

"Being with you, my heart goes aflutter.

Is this what love feels like?

I've never felt anything like it."

The MV starts with Suzume hanging onto her boyfriend's black silhouette as they walk through the monochrome maze of mirrors from her first MV. She's properly drawn and coloured, her face fully visible. All the mirrors they walk past are shattered.

"This feeling, I think I've gotten addicted to it.

The rush, the pain, the happy bappa-bump of my heart.

Am I doing it wrong?

I wish I could give you a happy love story."

A scene of Suzume and her boyfriend sitting side by side in a living room, watching TV. A few love letters, decorated with pink hearts, are laid out messily on the table in front of them. The frame glitches, revealing the letters to be overdue rent bills. The wallpaper begins to peel off, revealing moldy walls beneath.

"This isn't like any generic love song,

there's a problem in the shape of me.

But you don't see it. You don't see it so it'll be alright.

Until someone comes along to ruin our love."

The camera cuts back to Suzume and her boyfriend's silhouette in the maze. A gold silhouette appears, wearing matching pendants as Suzume, down to the piece of morganite. Suzume gasps, gritting her teeth as she stares down the gold silhouette.

"Why are you okay with this?

Even though she won't leave you alone.

If its for the sake of protecting you, I'll do anything."

The camera seems to be in Suzume's pov now. She stalks closer to a blonde woman in an alleyway. Clouds shroud the moon. The woman fixes her hair, turned away from Suzume who slowly creeps up behind her. Suzume raises her bat. She goes for the legs first.

"Is this okay? For me to be your knight in shining armor.

I hope I didn't do anything too wrong."

Suzume raises her head, breathing heavily, golden glowing liquid splashed across her face. The camera zooms out to show a gold silhouette lying on the ground, bleeding the same golden liquid. The frame glitches, split seconds of the golden liquid being shown as blood and the silhouette as the woman.

"I didn't think you would go this far," Taro presses his fingers to his cheek, deep in thought. Its the first time his face is being shown.

"The rush, the pain, the happy bappa-bump of my heart.

This happy love story, don't let it end yet.

What do I do? I've never felt anything like this."

Suzume's eyes widen, expression morphing into one of uneasiness. Taro turns away from her, distracted with something else. "DON'T LEAVE ME" flashes all across the frame. She reaches for a boxcutter in her jacket pocket, clasping her fingers around it.

┊ ⇄ ◁◁ II ▷▷ ↻ ┊

#suzume at the end of her t2 vd: its too late. I can't be helped.#suzume during t3: taro-kun is coming for me right? 🥺#suzume's delulu side has taken over we lost her #I have. been procrastinating on this for a month now #prisoner 004: toma suzume #prison guard: suzuki haruto #milgram #milgram oc #milgram project #ocgram #I'll be leaving some stuff about suzume's crime unconfirmed because its in character for her? to be vague and stuff :))

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willshipanything-blog · 1 year

Text

Rules of the Game- Chapter 21

Little different this chapter! I was planning on a few vignettes- little snapshots of Al and Y/N together. I reached out to some lovely mutuals on Tumblr- if they wanted any particular scenes, and got a few ideas I was able to put in alongside some pre-planned little scenes. If you don't see your requests here, it may make an appearance next chapter, which will also have a similar structure! ✌✨🖤

Thanks to @fierytteokbokki @drag-ghoul @grabberwife42 @gremlinology @reborn-ghost and others for their contributions! 💜

Turned out a lil' sweet and sad, but hope you enjoy!

Chapter 21- Still Life (1)

TOUCH

Mornings after the game were always when Al seemed to be at his most gentle, his most nurturing. Down he’d come, carrying both breakfast and an assortment of pills, lotions and ointments to soothe your aches and sores from the previous night’s escapades. This morning was quite the same, and you smiled sleepily and sat up against the wall as the metal door’s creak woke you from a restful sleep. As expected, Al (wearing only the grin this morning) plopped himself beside you on the mattress. The discernable dip momentarily- only momentarily- caused your eyes to flicker towards where he sat, where that cursed knife lay in hiding just below. He hadn't noticed it. A plate of buttered toast and eggs held in front of you thankfully dragged your eyes (and your mind) from that unsavory thought.

You found you were ravenous (likely helped by last night’s activities) and ate quickly. Al allowed you to wolf down the food before trying to make conversation. With your belly full, and a warm cup of coffee in hand, he finally spoke to you.

“How’s my little dove this morning?” His kind words floated out from behind the false grin; always in such a good mood after a night of Naughty Girl.

“I’m good Al,” You replied, imitating the smile you imagined hiding beneath the mask, “Did you- did you enjoy last night?” You faltered only slightly. Though you took part in the game without shame, your cheeks always seemed to blush strawberry-red when talking so casually about it afterwards.

“Oh, Y/N, more than you could ever know.” That low, husky voice made a sudden appearance and his bright blue eyes seemed to flash menacingly at just a mention of the game (though it could have just been the winter sun streaming through the basement window). His left hand found your thigh and he gave it a soft, affectionate squeeze over the blanket. You gazed down at your ring on his pinky, the small morganite gem shining peachy pink in the morning light. The hold he had on you- not on your thigh, but on your whole being- convinced you that his promise would never be broken again. Would Al ever fully be certain that yours could be kept too? Would you know the answer to that yourself?

“Let’s survey the damage, shall we?” Al said, his lilting tones returned as he reached for a nearby bottle of cream. You placed your empty cup beside you on the floor, kicked the blanket off your body and spread your legs as Al applied the cool balm on your inner thighs, where red welts had bloomed overnight into vivid violets. It might have felt a little obscene were his touch not so soothing, like a nurse tending a wounded soldier after combat. Your battle scars would heal soon enough, and you’d happily suffer them again at Al’s hand.

“The quicker they heal, the sooner you can inflict them again.” You spoke the familiar maxim, almost a sworn oath, setting out the rules of the game.

“If you’d like me to, Y/N.” A soft voice spoke as equally soft blue eyes looked up at your face. Your brows flinched slightly. Al was no longer voicing the inevitability of a future game, nor was he praising you for reciting that unwritten rule. The choice to play again lay in your hands. Naughty Girl commenced at your command; only once it began would the reins be passed to Al, and he would become master of the game once more.

You began to reply truthfully:

“I’d love t-” That word. You’d heard it last night. You thought you’d dreamed of Al speaking those three ill-fated words- ‘I love you’ - in some indistinct, nebulous dreamstate. But that phrase, unlike the rest of your half-forgotten dream, had become so clear, so palpable in your mind, you had to wonder… You’d lost your train of thought admitting your unabashed enjoyment, and looked perplexedly at Al, who was looking back just as puzzled, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah. I’d like that, Al.” You hoped your foolish choice of words and panicked recovery hadn’t marred the intimacy of the shared moment. A simple nod of his head assuaged you briefly, but a lump the size of a ping pong ball rose in your throat as Al began to collect and place things back on the plastic tray. You floundered, moving to grab onto him- you couldn’t allow him to leave on such a sour note.

“Please, Al. Stay a little while. Stay with me.” Your hand clasped around his muscular forearm, and he agreed to your terms with a low, assenting grunt. Putting down the tray, he now moved to grip you, his hands easily encircling your wrists. His fingers rubbed soothingly at the reddened skin where the cuffs had bitten into you. You said nothing, instead watching his nimble fingers work their way around your body, finding their way to your bare thighs, where (with the lightest of touches) his fingerpads traced along the purplish bruises. His gentle touch continued as he traversed those familiar trails on your face- your pinkish scar along the ridge of a cheekbone; your jaw, from your ears down to your chin, the raised scar that he fingered just above the surface of your heart. With each touch came a doting affection: how beautiful you looked that morning, how splendid you made last night, how truly blessed he was to have his little dove all to himself.

Al finally pulled you into him once your whole body had been touched by his hand and blessed with his words. As your head rested against his chest, you heard the steady thud of his heart beneath his jet-black shirt. You relaxed as his soft touches to your neck and chest continued alongside praise cooed lovingly in your ear- you’re perfect, Y/N; you’re so, so special to me; we’re going to be so happy here. He was sincere, and you believed every word. The beguiling caresses and praise enchanted you. Deeper under his spell you fell, and as you did so, the more those dreamy words from last night seemed to solidify, forming into something tangible. If they were really spoken- what then? What you and Al shared wasn’t synonymous with that word- love. Was it?

No, it wasn’t real. If left unspoken, it couldn't manifest itself into something real. You couldn’t let him say it- or allow yourself to respond. This was enough- to care about him, to enjoy him- but no more. You hoped desperately it was enough.

Al wondered if he may have made a mistake- his sweet dove seemed a little uncertain this morning. Of course, she may just be worn out from such a beautifully tempestuous night spent together. But, he figured morosely, Y/N’s demeanor changed suddenly, as if a horrifying realization had struck her. What if Y/N heard those words he’d spoken last night? He wondered whether it was a mistake to speak them aloud- those three dangerous words would certainly not be carried on her sublime lips, spoken back to him in reciprocation.

Maybe it didn’t matter after all. Maybe these little moments, these perfect, intimate encounters with her that he could steal away and keep locked in his memory- maybe that could be enough. Enough to hold her, have her, own her entirely. That was always what he longed for. He hoped so.

TRICK

“C’mon, focus.”

“I can’t do it Al!”

“Yes, you can Y/N.” Al growled through what you could tell were gritted teeth. He’d been patient in your training thus far, but a huff of irritation blew out from behind the mask’s grin indicated his growing agitation at your continued self-criticism.

“Ugh, it’s too hard!” You huffed back indignantly.

You thought you were a pretty patient person, but apparently sleight of hand was not to be your forte. You hated being bad at something, but even you were almost at your wit’s end. You’d brought this on yourself- you were the one who suggested All teach you a magic trick. Even one as basic as summoning a card as if from thin air had you bested: a field of clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades surrounding you on the living room carpet evidenced your failures in stark red and black.

Al had shown you the steps, talked through the techniques to use. It involved cupping your palm just so, flexing your hand a certain way, and snapping your fingers quickly to catch the card. When Al did it, he made it appear as though the card poofed into existence. So far, you had only succeeded in setting up a game of 52 pickup. The only thing stopping you from quitting altogether was Al’s promise of a takeout pizza if you managed to emulate the trick.

“Would it help if you wore the hat?” he teased, lounging on the couch, obviously enjoying your pouting. You shot him both daggers and a cheeky retort:

“Not if I have to wear those stupid glasses too.”

A low, almost inaudible grunt indicated you were oh-so-close to being a little too brazen. You focused your eyes back on the card in your palm, redoubling your efforts as you thought through each step of the trick. Fnap! The 7 of clubs appeared between your forefinger and thumb. You couldn’t hold back a wide, incredulous smile.

“Beautiful, Y/N. Again, a little faster”.

Fnap! The King of Hearts appeared even more swiftly this time. Fnap! 9 jet-black spades materialized in your hand.

“See, dove, I told you you could do it.” Al leaned over to where you sat on the floor, a soft stroke along your jawbone making your blush appear quicker than any card you could summon. “Good job, too- I was getting hungry.”

“Extra mushrooms please!” you hollered across the room, as Al rose from the couch and strode across the room, picking up the receiver on the cream telephone. His temples crinkled beside his blue eyes- a sure sign of smiling. He held up a finger to gesture your silence, and you obeyed, turning to focus on re-enacting the trick once more. You also knew he’d have to lift the mask off to speak clearly on the phone, and wanted to afford him some privacy. You’d told yourself you were content with that arrangement: that, no matter how much Al might test you, push your limits, you wouldn’t do the same with his mask. You’d wait patiently for another reveal, however long it took.

Satisfied you’d got the hang of the trick, you began to collect the cards scattered over the shag carpet, stacking 51 of them neatly on the coffee table before reclining comfortably on the couch.

“Shouldn’t be long, dove-” Al paused after turning to you, his grinning mask returned, “What, bored already?”

You sat up and flashed a wry smile, performing the trick one final time. Your hands gesticulated much like Al’s, imitating the theatricality and panache you’d watched from your suave magician. Fnap! Two crimson hearts appeared in your hand. The very same card you’d picked from Al during his last trick.

You knew that he’d remember. You knew by summoning that card, he’d grab you hungrily, pull you in close and take you to the basement, where he’d perform a magic all of his own on you, have you unraveled completely at his spell and mewling at his incantations. A half-forgotten thought wondered whether Al would hear the doorbell from downstairs, but you had a different kind of hunger now, that only Al could sate.

MASKS

Even as your days and nights with Al hushed into a steady and comforting rhythm- like soothing ocean ebbs and flows- you still often contemplated one of the few remaining barriers between you. It wasn’t the unspeakable things he’d done (which you had sworn to repress), nor was it the fairly obvious situation of you being his captive, his prisoner. It was a physical barrier you meditated on. It was the masks.

Al had always been deliberate about how the masks were used. The smooth blank visage used to be completely unreadable, and you’d rack your brains wondering what tricks he was up to. The maniacal grin once instilled a strange dread, unnerved by his false kindnesses that would be cruelly reversed in an instant. And the frown always meant punishment and the promise of pain.

The seismic shift your relationship had undergone meant the masks no longer clamped your heart in a dreadful, suffocating grip. But still, there was a meticulous system in how Al wore them. Naughty Girl still began with that deep frown, though Al had begun more and more to leave the grimace behind, loosening it in favor of kissing your mouth (and anywhere else on your body he so wished to taste). Mostly, half a mask greeted you in your basement chamber. If Al wore the familiar grin, it usually meant time for embracing, cuddling up on the low mattress to talk. His exposed azures (so genuine and trustworthy), fringed by his soft ashen hair, expressed more emotion than you thought possible. When Al greeted you in the devilled horns, his perfectly crooked teeth gleaming through parted lips, you knew you were going to make love.

But even half a mask concealed things from you. Though you could solve the cryptic expressions and discern Al’s feelings in most given moments, that sculpted alabaster barricade felt sometimes like an impenetrable skin. True, he had revealed his whole face to you, unbroken by that concealing white disguise. But he had done so only once, in a moment of desperation, a sacrifice made in exchange for your forgiveness. You wondered when (if ever) you would see his visage in its unhidden entirety.

Al surprised you when, after a quiet dinner on the mattress, he had left almost immediately after you’d finished eating. He’d been quiet, pensive, but even so, he had left without a word or a gesture, no reason why nor any farewell caress to your needful skin. A game, then? But no- you’d heard the door shut with the usual thud and click. Still, you tried to swing the door open, but it was sealed tight. Confusion grew into worry, which in turn grew into panic. The festering feeling in your gut, which had been banished for so long, had returned, clawing your insides with razor-sharp talons. It wasn’t fear so much as worry that you might have done something wrong; the thought of upsetting Al, unintentionally or otherwise, made your stomach churn.

When the door once again opened (thirty minutes or an eternity? It all felt the same waiting and pacing in unknowing agony) your worry did not cease. Al stood in his mask. His full mask, the one with the blank, expressionless lower half. You hadn’t seen this iteration of the mask in weeks. It felt like when you’d first arrived here; when the pale horned face would appear from behind the door, and you had been so unsure of what sinister intentions were hidden beneath the ghoulish exterior. Given that you had deciphered the masks’ tacit codes, this felt like you’d regressed back to a time when they were as confusing as they were frightening. You didn’t know this game now either. But you trusted Al, and you weren’t afraid anymore.

He approached you slowly, retracting a long, thin piece of fabric from a back pocket. Your feet stayed rooted to the spot, but your arms instinctively rose, hands pressing together. You thought he was going to bind your hands together, but a decisive shake of his head had you flummoxed. You interlocked your fingers, unsure of what to do with your hands, and felt the gold band on your right middle digit. It was a reassuring token; Al wouldn’t hurt you.

Those gentle blue eyes disappeared from your vision and the basement vanished into a black void. Al had placed the fabric over your eyes, moving behind your ears and around the back of your head, where he tied the blindfold in a couple of tight knots. Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed it, trying to remain calm. It was just another game of his- and you always enjoyed them. Reassuring hands met yours, and Al wordlessly guided you back onto the mattress, sitting (you approximated) somewhere in the center. You hoped your smile hid the slight quiver in your lips.

“Do not move the blindfold, Y/N.” You nodded. The phrase wouldn’t have been out of place during Naughty Girl, a playful yet dangerous warning. But Al’s tone was softer, worrisome even. It was a command to obey, but it was also a plea, a beseeching request. You suspected you knew why he sounded so anxious, and was proven right as you felt his lips meet yours. He had removed the lower portion of the mask. His kiss deepened, a hand cradling around your neck as your hands fumbled blindly to grip his thighs. His other hand ran through your hair as he paused, both of you a little breathless from the prolonged kiss. Your foreheads met as you rested, both breathing in each others’ zealous exhalations. He’d removed the horned half of the mask too.

You couldn’t help but lean away slightly, reach your invisible hands to where you knew him to be, and caress his face with the gentlest of touches. Your hands glided over each feature, piecing together the memory of his beautiful face. He was opening up. In his own way, of course: he was still nervous, uncomfortable to present himself to you so candidly. But he was here, in front of you, allowing you to glimpse into a possible future where the masks could be discarded and forgotten. Maybe one day Al wouldn’t feel the need to hide at all. He’d done it once before, out of sheer desperation and amid the threat of losing you completely. He could do it again, in time. Time is something you weren’t short of. For now, you’d be content with this.

AWAKE

When the darkness had been in charge, the Grabber had watched excitedly at the fear and the horror that visited Y/N in her dreams, making her fret and moan, waking in panicked sweat to come face to face with an even worse terror watching her like a ravenous wolf. But as that carnal, sadistic side of Al became restrained, so too did Y/N’s nightmares subdue. He still found he liked to watch her sleep. Sometimes for hours. The night terrors had subsided, and Al enjoyed the quiet, perfect moments where her calm, even breaths were all he needed to hear.

Since growing closer, Y/N often fell asleep in Al’s arms, though still he’d stay deep into the night, enjoying the feeling of her body against him, a perfect fit. Two opposite poles being inevitably pulled together. Inescapable, destined to be. She had woken on occasion to find Al with his strong arm possessively around her waist. He stilled, pretending to snooze soundly, wondering what move she might make. His heart swelled with rapturous delight: she hadn’t wriggled free, but instead rubbed his arm gently, pressing her body deeper into his and stirring no more. Al, unable to hold back his elation, dove into her, planting delicate twilight kisses along her beautiful neck to lull her peacefully back into an ethereal slumber.

Recently, however, Al had noticed Y/N sleeping fitfully on occasion, like something was weighing on her mind once the midnight moon bathed her basement cell in its pale, ghostly light. His little thing seemed to hide any worries in her waking hours, but she was unable to hide her unconscious, involuntary thoughts as he watched her sleeping. He thought things were better than ever, and worried terribly that he’d done something wrong. He almost laughed at this absurd thought. He’d done everything wrong. He would carry the shame of imprisoning her to his final days. But he was sure she had accepted this fate. So what was it affecting her so, forcing Al to soothe and calm her as she fretted and writhed once more in a troubled dreamstate? His worst fear was that she knew- she knew how he felt, and it had broken her.

…

Al woke from his own sleep, his eyes adjusting to the static that buzzed and hummed a low frequency in front of him. Piecing together the scene: he and Y/N had been watching a movie together. They had both fallen asleep on the couch, but she was no longer wrapped tightly in his arms, as he always held her when they lied together. He felt a warmth by his feet, and turned his head slowly in the dim, flickering light thrown across the room by the TV static. There, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, was Y/N, her elbow perching on the back of the couch, head resting on her fist as she looked out of the window. Surveying the outside world through the gaps in the rust-colored curtains.

She hadn’t crept off to make any sort of escape, or gone snooping through the house. She had woken and stayed near to Al, though he knew his dove was thinking of faraway, unattainable things. Impossible wishes that he had forbidden her to desire. As she looked pensively out of her glass cage, the light December snowfall reflected in her bright, wistful eyes. Aside from her slow breaths and blinking lashes, Al might have thought she was inanimate. His own eyes glistened as he comprehended this idea: for all the choices he had given her, maybe she had become an inanimate being, a doll for Al to play with and discard as he saw fit. He prayed to whatever gods were out there she didn’t feel that way; he certainly didn’t anymore. He felt he had watched her covertly for long enough in the midnight darkness, and spoke softly to her.

“Dove?” She startled at Al’s words, looking away from the frosted window and back towards him. Like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Like she thought she might be in trouble.

“You’re still here.” Al sat up, noticing (thanks to the flickering orange street light outside) that her mouth wavered for a moment, unsure whether to speak. She did.

“Where would I have gone?” Watery eyes gazed into him. A punch in his gut at the question. But she was right. She had always been such a clever thing. Where was there for her to go? It might have sounded romantic, forsaking all others to stay with Al. But there was no choice for his dove, and that tore at his insides like a rabid creature. Surprisingly, she broke the awkward and heavy silence that had settled like a blanket of snow between you both.

“Can I go back downstairs Al?”

“Of course Y/N.” Back to the safety of the cell in which he’d so cruelly imprisoned her, the comfort of a mattress so unkindly given. It’s not how Al wanted things to be, but it was away from the even crueler and more unkind temptations of a world no longer accessible to his most precious possession. He loved her too much to ever let her go. Didn’t he?

#the black phone #black phone fanfic #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #the grabber #slasher fandom

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rockingrobin69 · 2 years

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Understandable

If you believe everything you hear, which Harry didn’t, on principle, Draco Malfoy moved out of the city to live in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Also, if you’d have it, he was now gay (!), dyed his hair pink (!!), made a habit of wearing ridiculously tiny crop-tops (!!!) and picked up sculpting as a hobby.

Utterly ridiculous, of course—it was painting, not sculpting. And you couldn’t really call it a hobby. It was what he did for the better part of every day, in the back shed on Harry’s grounds. Harry said he could do it in the main house, hell, in their bedroom, it wouldn’t bother him at all, in fact it would probably be—but Draco smiled and shook his head. Needed his space, he said. And Harry, who couldn’t always understand him, couldn’t even most of the time, got this.

So Draco painted in the back shed, the smallest of the three. He would come back in the afternoons splattered with paint, in his hair (not bright pink but more Morganite, pale and just as shiny), on his face, on the visible slice of his abdomen. Harry would laugh as he tried to lick it off him (“Potter!”), as he resolved to just licking any part of him he could (“Potter—“), as he pinned him at the kitchen door to kiss him properly, everywhere, everywhere. And Draco would laugh too, would say things like, “you’re impossible”, or “honestly, one would think”, or “P-Potter, fuck, oh, fuck".

They would have a brief lunch, soup and a toast, drink their bucketworth of sweet tea. Some days Draco would come back with Harry to help, or they’d go for a walk around the farm, or down by the stream. It was nice in October, fresh cold air, crisp like the leaves they joyfully jumped on, beautiful like the trees. Forever changing colours—Draco would bring his camera, pause every once in a while to stare at something only he could see. Harry didn’t always understand him, but he got this. Wanting to freeze time, to have this one, perfect moment ingrained forever. When Draco would came back with a hungry look in his eyes, with cold, searching fingers, Harry felt the same way.

If you believed the rumours, Harry Potter was in a committed relationship. He lived in a three-house village in the highlands (!), raised Thestrals for a living (!!), photographed in the nude to raise money for charity (!!!), and spoke Parsletongue in bed. Ridiculous, of course—it only happened once, and by accident. Although Draco didn’t really mind. Harry didn’t always understand him, but he thought he might get that: there was some magic, something brutal and free about it, about letting go. Harry’s been practicing. It was going rather well, if he said so himself.

Rumour had it he was doing all right. But you’re wiser than believing everything you hear, I should hope. He was absolutely, entirely, tremendously, happy.

(Day 22 of @flufftober! Find all previous ficlets here, or on AO3)

#flufftober2022 #harry potter #drarry fic #500 words #prompt: “Have you heard?”#fluff #soft #RockingRobin'sflufftober #rockingrobin69

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acesandfairydust · 2 years

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#ts3 #sims 3 #jaceic's game #cider random legacy #gen 8: morganite button cider #morganite button cider #Cute faces

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the-excellent-papyru · 13 days

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Introducing Jade!

Jade is an Out!Code Frisk/Flowey.

Her lore is limited due to her still being a wip.

In her part of the Anti-Void, there's a small community of characters including Ruby (Chara), Lapis (Sans), Topaz (Papyrus), Opal (Undyne), Tourmaline "Tourmie" (Alphys), Morganite "Morgan" (Mettaton), and herself.

She has two forms: flower and humanoid.

In her flower form, she's a Golden Flower with green petals and a teal face. (The golden is found in the leaves. Xanthophylls are responsible, and they are better for photosynthesis in the Anti-Void.)

In her humanoid form, she looks like a normal Frisk with a green flower over her left eye, deep green mid-back length hair, the Golden Locket on a vine instead of a chain, echo flowers in her hair that often speak her thoughts (much to her dismay), her blue sweater without stripes, and red sneakers.

#undertale oc #jade #gemtale

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priceyprice · 4 months

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I loved reading the Christmas fic! it was so cute but all I could think about after was reader giving him back the promise ring when he pushes reader away

I love your writing and hope you had a good start to the new year <3

Oh my, thank you so much, my dear! Happy New Year to you too! I hope you have a good start! I apologize for the late reply. I'm so happy people liked the Christmas ver. I dont know if you have read the version of how things would've "ended" for them. Here's the other version.

The part you're talking about would've been like this (derived from the other version):

Prof!Price

Prof!Price as he's in his apartment, beside his liquor shelf, taking a glass of his favorite whiskey already losing track of how many glasses he had poured to himself.

His apartment was dark. The only thing that brought light to the place was the fireplace in his living room.

His mind was fogged with thoughts about her. How the light from her eyes disappeared the moment he spoke, feeling his lips burned as if the three obnoxious words had had some kind of acid in them.

"Let's end things here."

He will never tell her the reason he broke up with her was because the superiors found out about a student in a relationship with one of her professors, causing her to get expelled and getting her student record damaged.

He actually doesn't care if he gets fired or gets his professor's license revoked. He's already a grown man with many things accomplished in his life.

Unlike her.

She's still pursuing her career. How can he be so self-centered and damage all the sacrifice and work she has done so far?

He couldn't find the guts to do that. He isn't selfish enough to throw all her hard work to the cliff just because he wants to be with her.

So now he's here, rotting in only memories of her because he decided to terminate things.

He doesn't want to get used to the silence of his apartment. He doesn't want to get used to the absence of her presence. He doesn't want to get used to her perfume fading away from his sheets. To the phantom of her skin flushed against his, creating a perfect puzzle as if their bodies were made for each other. To the memory of her smile haunting his dreams every night. Fuck he doesn't want anything of this.

But again, he was the one who made the decision.

So he needs to get used to all of this.

His thoughts drifted away when he heard soft sounds on the floor of his living room.

Price knows those footsteps very well, and he memorized them like it was his own heartbeat.

His eyes went up, finding the one who hadn't left his mind, not even for a second. Who has his reason for living in the palm of her hand, between her pretty fingers.

"What are you doing here?"

It's not surprising to find her inside of the apartment since she knows the password of his door lock. And he doesn't have plans to change it either since the password is her birthday.

She just stared at him without saying anything. Even just two weeks have passed since they had talked, but it felt like a year. Everything was going slow for both of them. Everything was going downhill.

Price sighed, dropping his shoulders in a tired expression when she just stood there in silence. "Look, I don't have energy to talk about the reason I broke up-..."

"I'm not here to talk about that, John." He almost closed his eyes when his name rolled out of her tongue like honey. He missed it so much.

She started to walk closer to him until they were in front of each other. He could now see her face clearly. Her eyes were dull, red and puffy, with slightly bags under it. Product of the sleepless nights crying under her covers.

She was broken.

And it was his fault.

He will never forgive himself for that.

"I came to give you this." She opened her hand in front of him, revealing the beautiful morganite ring he gave her on Christmas day. If his heart couldn't be more broken, this time is shattered into pieces.

A symbol of his love, a part of his heart and soul is in that ring.

A ring he once gave her with the promise of a marriage and a beautiful life together.

But now, it was all gone.

He remembered he told her that if things went south, she could give him back the ring, ending things. He said that with the hopes of never getting it back, but here it is, in front of him shining like it holds the last bit of hope of their now nonexistent relationship.

He took it slowly from her hand. Fingers caressing lightly her skin, feeling that burning sensation reminding both of them those feelings are still fresh, difficult to get rid of them.

He looked at the ring for a few seconds, remembering the joy he felt when she accepted the ring.

"You can keep the ring-..."

"You told me to give it back if something happens and... It happened." Her eyes itched, ready to let tears stream down, but she tried to stay strong. She's tired of crying every night for the same thing.

"Just accept it, John. Please."

His eyes went up to her and saw the pleading look she was giving to him. Price can understand she wants to pass the page and move on for her own good, but a part of him doesn't want her to give up on him. To give up on the devotion he has for her. She will always be his one and only love for the rest of his days. His every breath, every heartbeat will be for her and only her.

So because he loves her so much, he will respect her decisions and let her move on.

He gave her a little smile, making her skip a beat. "I understand. Thank you for bringing it to me."

She nodded without reciprocating the smile. Taking a few steps back, she looked at that familiar spot on the floor in front of his fireplace. The same spot he gave her the ring before saying their I love you's to each other in between moans and kisses. Her gaze went back to him, memorizing those beautiful blue eyes she would always have in her mind, heart, and soul.

"Goodbye, Professor Price."

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I apologize for any misspelling or mistakes. Any suggestions or requests are appreciated. 🫶

#captain price #john price #john price x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #fanfic #prof price #professor price

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