#hammer pendant

[akolnoix]

looking at my keykid sketches and decided to combine the two hairstyles i was deciding between

[blogtib]

[powdermelonkeg]

Firestorm, aka Karlach/Gale, aka, local wizard learns how to play Doom

[primordialfireforge]

Pendants fresh from the forge, ready to be shipped to their new customers. Grand thanks for everyone for the support! Cheers.

[ivaldisonsforge]

Thors hammer pendant (mjolnir) Thor's hammer pendant reconstruction Romersdal, Bornholm, Denmark.

In Norse mythology, Mjölnir is the hammer of Thor, a major Norse god associated with thunder. Mjölnir is depicted in Norse mythology as one of the most fearsome weapons, capable of leveling mountains. In his account of Norse mythology, Snorri Sturluson relates how the hammer was made by the dwarven brothers Sindri and Brokk, and how its characteristically short handle was due to a mishap during its manufacture.

[mjolnir-viking-jewelry]

Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Runic mjolnir pendant replica from Kobelev. Handcrafted sterling silver Thor hammer necklace. Viking jewelry gifts.

[gesray]

Vintage 14K 925 Sterling Silver Opal Pendant Necklace Marked Signed, Contemporary Hammered Sterling Silver Jewelry https://www.etsy.com/listing/1762072861/vintage-14k-925-sterling-silver-opal?click_key

[rusticahouse]

To complete the transformation, incorporate iron lamps and traditional Mexican decor elements into your bathroom. Iron lamps, whether wall-mounted or as iron pendant lights, bring a touch of old-world charm and durability. Their intricate designs and warm lighting complement the vibrant colors and textures of the Talavera tiles and copper fixtures. Additionally, consider adding Mexican decor pieces such as handwoven textiles, pottery, and rustic wooden accents. Woven baskets, colorful rugs, and ornate mirrors can further enhance the cultural ambiance, making your bathroom a delightful retreat that reflects the soul and artistry of Mexico. By thoughtfully combining these elements, you create a unique and inviting space that not only pays homage to Mexican heritage but also provides a luxurious and serene experience.

[madisonetjenifer]

Home Bar L-Shape A large-scale transitional l-shaped dark wood floor seated home bar remodel featuring an undermount sink, recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, granite countertops, white backsplash, and terra-cotta backsplash.

[cohibacubancigars]

Boston Kitchen Great Room Open concept kitchen - mid-sized 1960s galley medium tone wood floor and brown floor open concept kitchen idea with a single-bowl sink, flat-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, wood countertops, black backsplash, stone tile backsplash, paneled appliances, an island and black countertops

[dinosus]

𓆝 𓆟"Threads of Devotion" 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Summary : How each Arcane character might feel if the reader called them their favorite person Pairings : Violet, Ekko, Jayce, Victor, Jinx x Reader Warnings : Too much fluff A/n : I'm trying ways to make my posts attractive and more approachable, so i hope this is a tiny bit progress ! ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Vi (Violet) 𓆉 ⋆.˚𓇼 ⋆.˚𓆟

Vi stops dead in her tracks. She was mid-conversation, her usual cocky demeanor on full display, but your words—“You’re my favorite person, Vi”—hit her like a sucker punch. Her brows furrow slightly, almost as if she didn’t hear you correctly. “Say that again?” she asks, her voice lower, more serious. You repeat it, softer this time, and it’s like watching a storm give way to sunlight. Her tough exterior crumbles just a little, enough for you to catch the faintest pink rising to her cheeks. She exhales through her nose, shaking her head like she’s trying to brush it off, but her lips curl into an unguarded, lopsided smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she mutters, hands finding her hips. Her fingers fidget slightly against her belt, betraying the nerves she rarely lets show.

There’s a pause before she steps closer, her shadow falling over you. Her scarred knuckles brush against yours, hesitant, searching for permission. When you don’t pull away, she grips your hand with a firmness that’s comforting rather than overwhelming. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” she says, her voice rough, almost cracking, “but… thanks. That means more than you know.” For the rest of the day, she’s quieter, stealing glances your way with a softness that’s rare. You notice the way she keeps you within arm’s reach, as if silently claiming you as hers. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Ekko ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Ekko stops in the middle of adjusting his goggles, the usual smirk on his lips faltering as your words register. “Wait, wait,” he says, holding up a hand like he needs a moment to process. His brown eyes, bright with youthful energy, widen, and for a split second, he looks utterly vulnerable. “You serious right now?” His voice cracks just a little, his usual smooth confidence giving way to something rawer. When you nod, his grin comes back tenfold, wide enough to rival the light of the sun. He laughs, the sound bubbling out of him uncontrollably. “Man, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” But it doesn’t stop there. Ekko steps closer, his movements brimming with energy, his curls bouncing with each step. He plants himself in front of you, arms crossed, but the playful gleam in his eye is unmistakable. “Favorite person, huh? That’s some serious stuff,” he teases, though his voice softens at the edges. His fingers tug at the chain around his neck—a small, nervous gesture—as he leans in, his tone dropping to a near whisper. “Guess what? You’re mine too.”

Later, you find him tinkering with something in his hideout. It’s a small, intricate pendant, the gears moving in perfect harmony. When he hands it to you, there’s no mistaking the pride in his voice. “A favorite deserves somethin’ special, right?." ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jayce ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Jayce freezes, his broad shoulders going rigid as your words sink in. He was mid-laugh, hammer slung over one shoulder, radiating the confidence of someone who’s used to leading and inspiring. But this? This was different. He turns to face you, the sunlight catching the gold accents of his armor and the stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. His dark brown eyes search yours, the vulnerability there stark against his usual bravado. “You mean that?” he asks softly, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper. When you nod, his lips part in a smile that’s so genuine it could melt steel. His laugh comes next, warm and boyish, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “Wow,” he breathes, rubbing the back of his neck. “That… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” For all his brilliance and ambition, you can tell your words have touched a part of him he doesn’t often let show.

He sets the hammer down with a soft clink and steps closer, his larger frame almost shielding you. His hand brushes against your shoulder, tentative at first, before it settles there firmly, grounding you both. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone a mix of admiration and affection. “Guess I’ll have to work extra hard to keep that title.” ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Viktor ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆

The room goes still. Viktor’s pen stops scratching against the paper, suspended mid-air as if your words had reached out and taken hold of it. His head tilts slightly, golden eyes peering up at you through strands of messy brown hair. “I—what?” he stammers, the faint tremor in his voice betraying his disbelief. It’s rare to see Viktor, the ever-focused genius, so utterly disarmed. He sets the pen down carefully, as though afraid any sudden movement might break the spell. “You’re joking,” he says, though the slight hitch in his tone suggests he desperately hopes you aren’t. When you shake your head, his lips part in a soft, almost boyish smile—one that carries no trace of his usual guardedness. “Your favorite person…” he repeats, testing the words as though they were foreign. His slender fingers, ink-stained and delicate, fiddle nervously with the edge of his sleeve.

“I… don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favorite anything,” he admits quietly, his accent thick with unspoken emotion. There’s a long pause before he meets your gaze fully, his eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “Thank you. Truly.” Later, you’d find him working late into the night, crafting something small but exquisite. When he finally hands it to you—a delicate charm inscribed with intricate patterns—it’s accompanied by a shy, almost bashful smile. “For my favorite person,” he murmurs, the words soft but heartfelt. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jinx ✩°｡‘(* · * )⸝

Jinx’s entire body reacts to your words. Her head snaps up, her electric blue hair flying as she whirls around to face you, pink eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait, WHAT?!” she screeches, her voice high-pitched and chaotic. She grabs your shoulders with both hands, her grip firm but not painful, as if she’s trying to ground herself in the moment. “Did you just—did you just say I’m your favorite person?” Her face is a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, glee, a flicker of doubt, and then unrestrained joy. She laughs, a sound that’s wild and unhinged but full of genuine delight. “Oh, man, you’re not pulling my leg, are ya? Swear on it! Swear on a cupcake!” When you assure her, she lets out a triumphant whoop, throwing her arms around you in a tight, slightly chaotic hug.

But as the laughter dies down, something softer emerges. Her hands linger on your shoulders, her manic energy settling into something more vulnerable. “I mean… that’s cool and all,” she says, trying to play it off, but her voice wavers. “Didn’t think anyone’d ever say that to me.” She pulls back, her grin still wide but tinged with something deeper, more fragile. “Guess that makes you my favorite, too.”

Later, you find a crumpled piece of paper in your pocket, a messy doodle of you and her, surrounded by stars and hearts. At the bottom, scrawled in her uneven handwriting, are the words: “Faves 4ever". ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Hope you enjoyed >:D !! (yes i edited this post lol) ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ IGNORE THESE <3

[blogtib]

[nastybuckybarnes]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: How can what's done be undone? Let's watch.

Warnings: Language, PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, Angst,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: I made y'all wait for this one lol. I hope you enjoy. Yes, there will be more so dont you worry. i really wanna try hammering out more of this and tbp cause i may or may not do another 12 days of ficmas or somethin but we'll see!

~*~

When Task Force 141 finally heads into the basement to free you, the scene before them has more than one of them sick to their stomach.

You're curled up in a ball, whispering to yourself in a language they're not familiar with, and when you finally catch a glimpse of them, it's like gas to a flame.

You're pleading, begging in that same language as you slowly back up, shaking your head at them as tears fall down your cheeks.

The words are desperate, spat with haste and fear, and it hurts Ghost's heart to know that the first time he's hearing your mother tongue is when you're trying to escape him.

"Mouse, it's me. You're safe, please. Please, s'just me," he tries, getting on his knees to seem less imposing.

You only scramble back further, holding your hands out in front of you in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself from danger that doesn't exist.

The blood on your hand catches his attention and he's immediately looking for the source.

"You're hurt. Let me help, please."

You're hiccuping and sobbing, beyond consolation at this point and he's at a loss.

Slowly, he glances over his shoulder to his teammates, the ones who were so quick to follow the traitorous finger that was pointed in your direction.

Soap's eyes are on you, full of sadness and guilt, while Price has his eyes cast down to the floor.

They were just trying to protect their team. Their family.

An idea pops into Simon's head, and he slowly brings his hands to the chain around his neck.

He pulls off the necklace and holds it out in front of you, watching closely as your gaze slowly focuses on the silver pendant.

Your fighting lessens, breathing evens, and then you're reaching out with trembling fingers, gingerly brushing against the warm metal.

A soft word falls from your lips in the same language you were speaking before, and new tears well up in your eyes as you grab the necklace from him and hold it close to your chest.

Slowly, he backs up, motioning for the other men to get out of the way, and then he's swinging the cell door open as wide as it can go and carefully peeling his mask back.

Your wild eyes are focused on his face as he slowly reveals himself to you, and you feel your stomach flip.

"Simon?" You croak, voice scratchy and hoarse.

"S'right, little one. S'me. C'mon out now, you're safe."

You glance over at the other men in the room, your lip wobbling slightly.

"Don't look at them, look at me. Eyes on me, m'right here 'n m'not goin' anywhere."

Reluctantly, your eyes meet his again and he nods encouragingly at you.

Soap can feel his stomach tying in knots with every moment that passes, every word spoken between the two of you.

He never expected this to be the result of his accusations. Of his efforts to be a good soldier.

Slowly, you crawl toward the door, pausing every few seconds as if bracing yourself for an attack.

When you get to the doorway you take a deep breath, holding it as you cross the threshold.

And then a sob bubbles out of your chest and the dam breaks.

You're hiccuping and crying, reaching for Simon desperately, and he all but yanks you into his arms, shushing you quietly.

"I-I didn't do it!" You gasp, bloody hands grabbing handfuls of his sweater.

Simon only nods, rocking you gently in his arms.

"I know, lovie. I know."

"I-I'll be good! J-just don't... don't bring me ba-ack here, please!"

Price's jaw clenches hard, hard enough to almost crack a tooth. His hands are in tight fists by his sides and the lump in his throat is getting harder and harder to swallow.

Simon hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with your personal information, your history, but in their search for you, they found your sketchbooks. It wasn't hard to piece together your past after that.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe. You're never going to come back down here, I swear it. Let me take you upstairs."

Your entire frame is trembling in his arms, your bloodshot eyes focused on the men over his shoulder.

Your pupils are wide and your gaze is piercing, sharper than a blade and harder than the walls that seem to be closing in around you.

"Not safe," you whisper, tugging at his sweater then pushing out of his grip and crawling away.

"You're safe, Mouse."

"No, no not safe! Not here! Not with them!" You hiss, glaring at the men behind him.

"I try so hard! But everywhere I go you-you people... you try to hurt me! You lock me in cage! I do nothing wrong!" You're shouting now, voice hoarse and broken, but it makes Soap wince nonetheless.

You look between the men, the soldiers, and push yourself back until you hit the bars of the cell.

"I know your time here hasn't exactly been the easiest, but I swear I won't let anyone else hurt you," Simon tries, holding his hands up in surrender as he scoots closer.

"This... all of this... is because I met you," you finally whisper, the words slicing Simon to his core.

Because you're right.

From the kidnapping to the Corporal in the shower to the accusations. None of it would've happened if you'd never met the man.

"Her thigh" Gaz says softly, eyes focused on the blood darkening the fabric of your pants.

That snaps Ghost out of his feelings and his focus is on you once more. Your safety, your wellbeing.

"Mouse, you're hurt. Let me help you, please."

You glance down at your leg, the still-bleeding wound from yesterday, then cover it with your hand.

"Don't need help."

"You need medical help. Food, water. Please, Mouse." He glances over his shoulder at his teammates. "Leave."

With that one word, the three of them are gone, leaving you alone with your Ghost.

"S'just you n me now, little one. You know I'd never hurt you. Let me help you. Please."

You swallow hard, looking at him for a long silent moment before dropping your gaze back down to your thigh.

"I'll take you upstairs, we can go straight to medical and then-"

"No."

He frowns.

"No?"

"I-I don't want to see... anyone else. Only you."

He nods immediately, inching toward you carefully, as if you're a wild animal that could lash out at any moment.

It's not like he couldn't handle it, couldn't overpower you. But he wouldn't. Even if you did decide to lash out, he'd take it. S'what he deserves, after all. He should've been faster. Should've convinced Price sooner, killed both Jacobs and Matthews in that alley the first night he met you.

But he didn't.

"Can I touch you? I just want to see how bad it is." He motions to your leg.

Slowly, you give him a nod, watching through puffy eyes as he gets close enough to inspect your wound.

His hands are gentle when he touches you, tilting your leg to the side then looking back up at you.

"Let me take you out of here. Please."

"Where?"

"With me. Our quarters."

Ours. Not his. Ours.

Yours.

That's where you belong.

Up in your quarters with your Ghost and far far away from here.

Far from the holding cells that remind you too much of the cages you used to call home.

Far from people who would hurt you, lie to you, betray you.

Ghost's words from what feels like only days ago ring out in your ears, taunting you, humiliating you.

Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you.

The man's own words when he'd cleaned that Corporal off of the bathroom floor.

You've saved my arse.....I owe you.

This is how they repay people?

Simon, upon seeing the distant starry look in your eyes, smooths his bare fingers over your wrist, tugging you gently toward him.

You follow wordlessly, lost in thought, in your mind, and he seems to recognize this.

"M'gonna bring you upstairs. Straight to our quarters, yeah? Nobody's gonna be around, I'll be quick."

He takes your silence as understanding and tugs his balaclava back on, then pulls you up into his arms and heads out of the basement and up the stairs.

A shiver rolls down his spine when he emerges in the hallway.

All of this bears an eery closeness to when he first brought you to base.

Your limp body in his arms, the looks from the poor few stragglers around base, the determination in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

He hates it.

He hates that his team, the men he's supposed to be closest with, are the ones who've brought him back here.

The ones who've pushed you to this.

But he's not absolved of wrongdoing in this.

No, he's the one who closed the cell door behind you. He's the one who locked you in your deepest traumas.

He turned the key and tucked it in his pocket.

He's just as much to blame as they are.

His self-loathing comes to a momentary pause when he finally pushes open the door to your shared quarters.

He sets you down on the desk, much like he did the day he came back to find Corporal Jacobs dead on the bathroom floor, and grabs his first aid kit.

Expert fingers slip the blade of a knife into the tear in your pants, and then he's cutting the fabric away from your leg and spraying the wound with antiseptic.

His eyes dart up to your face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort as he begins bandaging your wound.

He finds none.

Your eyes are still distant, as if you're not really here with him, and he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

"Mouse?"

Nothing.

Swallowing hard, he reaches for your face, smoothing his fingers over your cheek and jaw. To anyone looking, he's composed, but you feel his fingers tremble the tiniest bit as they meet your skin.

Your eyes flutter to his, pupils dilating slightly as you focus on him.

"You with me?"

You blink a few times then slowly nod, eyes staying focused on his.

"Yes... here... with Ghost."

His eyes get sad for a moment before he nods, tugging off his balaclava and dropping it onto the ground.

"Simon. You're here with Simon."

You let out a quivering sigh and nod, reaching forward to touch his face.

Red stains his pale cheek and you look to the source, brows pulling together when you see the blood on your fingers.

"What...?" You inspect your hands, the blood covering them, then drop your gaze to the half-covered wound on your thigh.

"Oh."

"Looks worse than it is. Just gotta stay off it a bit," he says softly, getting back to work until your wound is wrapped.

You say nothing, your gaze shooting back to your hands. Specifically, the necklace in your left hand.

"Want me to help put that back on?" He asks after a moment, watching the way tears fill your eyes as you nod.

He takes the necklace from you and carefully reaches around your neck, leaning in close to watch himself clasp it.

You're engulfed in his scent as he invades your personal space, and you can't stop your hands from darting out and grabbing onto his sweater to hold him there, to pull him close.

When the necklace is secure, he pulls back just enough to fix his footing, and then he's yanking you to the edge of the desk and wrapping you in his strong arms.

He hunches over the desk, dropping his head to yours and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head.

You wrap yourself around him, in him, as much as you can, pressing your face to his chest and burrowing into him deep enough to taste his soul.

He pulls you closer still, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he lets himself feel you. Really feel you.

Feel you in your pain, in your trauma, your helplessness. Feel you in your trust, your fear, your love. For him.

He feels you as much as he feels himself now, and all he wants is to take your pain away. Strip you of it even if it kills him.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds you close until you begin to tug away. And then he's taking your hands in his once more.

"I'll run you a shower, yeah?"

You nod wordlessly, eyes cast down as silent tears trek down your cheeks.

He moves swiftly, turning the water on and testing the temperature.

When it's finally warm enough, he returns to you, reaching for you only to freeze when you flinch back.

Refusing to meet his gaze, you slide off of the desk and step around him, cringing away when dusts his fingers over your arm.

The rejection stings, but he knows he has no right to feel hurt.

"I'll stay right here 'till you're done."

You say nothing, only close the bathroom door and turn the lock.

Simon ends up staying there for hours, long enough to realize that you're not coming out of there anytime soon.

With the lights off, he leans his head against the door separating you.

"I'll be right out here, if you wanna come out. Make sure I save a spot on the bed for ya, yeah?"

You say nothing.

He can hear the steady sound of your breath so he knows that -physically, at least- you're okay.

Sighing softly, he slides his hand down the door then turns away and takes a seat on the bed.

He sits there for a few minutes, hoping he'll hear the lock click, that you'll come to bed and the two of you will be able to put everything behind you.

But he's never been a big dreamer.

Instead, he settles down in bed, his eyes locked on the bathroom door, the faint light shining through the cracks.

Simon goes to bed that night with a full bladder and an empty bed.

[bywons]

﹆ WITH AND WITHOUT — LHS

⌕ where lee heeseung realises he messed up too bad

𖦹 pairing. toxic!bf! lee heeseung x f!reader w.c. 0.7k tw/cw. cursing, implications of cheating at end genre. angst/hurt sru's note. pls don't let this flop TT ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

heeseung's head aches more than ever, and for every second that he stares at the minimalist silver pendant sitting still between your collarbones, it's thin silver chain hugging your neck ever so softly, it aches even more.

and now it's the time for his heart. he physically cringes out of guilt when he watches you retract your hand away from his. he just wants to hold your hand in his, wants to embrace the soft warmth that once felt like home, that cosy and cordial sensation that gave him butterflies.

but now that is long gone.

it started with heeseung really. from your shoulders missing the embrace of his arm to his cheeks missing your tickling, feathery kiss. neither of you know when this started; an invisible wall growing between you two, and all you can do is sit and watch, letting the wall increase the distance you've already built in between you both.

“you should focus on the movie instead”, your tone is boring, maybe even annoyed. or maybe none, heeseung simply doesn't know. he can't concentrate on whatever's playing in front of him, his eyes are fixed on your necklace, sending such visuals to his brain out of which he can only think of scenarios that hammers his heart even more.

the pendants’ a heart. it's a fucking heart.

“yeah, i am”, heeseung lies, again. just like the way he lied to you three months ago saying he would definitely attend your birthday party albeit his rough basketball practice.

you searched for your boyfriend's compelling face for hours that evening. waited for him the whole night, an hour passed by, then two, then three. every face in your apartment left and the one that should've been there by your side on the couch, holding you in his arms and kissing you all over, was not there. lee heeseung indeed broke his promise that day, along with a piece of you.

“really? what just happened right now then?”, you yawn, munching on the caramel popcorn, a flavour you didn't really like. but heeseung is unable to answer your question right now, he doesn't find enough words to formulate a sentence and explain why he didn't really know what was going on in the movie. his eyes just mindlessly read over the subtitles at the bottom of the screen not really getting the context behind it, there are more vital thoughts in the back of his head, eating him alive in this moment.

heeseung mentally curses himself for instances that took place months ago. instances which once broke your heart, you cried over it, burying your face in the pillow and then eventually forgetting about it. instances that heeseung never cared enough to think about twice before going to bed, or use to reflect on his actions or even think about it.

but suddenly heeseung wishes he could go back in time and return to your birthday party that evening, he wishes he was not that casual to flirt with your best friend in front of you, he wishes he hadn't caused those meaningless arguments with you, he wishes he'd never told you that his ex was better. heeseung wishes he was a better boyfriend for you.

“this one new?”, and heeseung's eyes are back on the necklace you were wearing, it's dainty silver heart infuriating him even more and he can't find the reason why. why the fuck can't he recognize the necklace?

“this one?”, you very well know which one he means when you point at the silver necklace on your neck, or else why will you be sitting with your cardigan pushed all the way down to your collarbones? “you gave it to me, don't you remember?”, you smile.

“not really”, heeseung trails off, a smile from you felt odd after days of cold shoulder from you. it doesn't feel genuine though, so he returns another fake smile hoping you wouldn't notice, “maybe i forgot.”

heeseung can never forget, never ever when it comes to you. he might have been the worst boyfriend ever but he's dying for your touch right now, maybe playing hard to get in your own relationship got him? he can't bet on being ‘good boyfriend’ all over again, he knows he fucked up. but he can bet on one thing though.

he swears and he swears to god and all his 23 years of life, he has never bought that necklace for you.

‘cause why the fuck would it have a ‘J’ engraved on it?

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111 @ashtxrie nets! @/k-labels

[ivaldisonsforge]

Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Romersdal mjolnir pendant. Sterling silver Thor hammer necklace. Handmade mjolnir replica from Bornholm.

[mjolnir-viking-jewelry]

Mjolnir pendant (Olaf cross) Our Wolf Cross is a re-creation of a famous Icelandic pendant worn by both pagan Vikings and Christians alike. It is a symbol of the cross and Thor's Hammer coming together in an open cross within the cross, celebrating the life force of the sun. The wolf's head marks respect for animal cunning.