#hannah-heartstrings

[druidx]

Time, dust, and sword? With Elo or whoever it fits?

Sorry if this is no help. But good job on how far along your fic has come, and good luck with the rest! :D

It's now apparent I'm incapable of writing drabbles. Also I made myself sad with this.

CW: Grief (v. mild) Notes: From Aurianna's POV, Vanilla Fighting Fantasy setting, waaaaaaay in the future. Tagging: @aquadestinyswriting @jacqueswriteblrlibrary

The Sunbeam

Today a man brought me a sword.

I watched as he climbed the bare, rocky hillside to my cave jutting from the oceans of sand. I measured his determination as he pawed dust from his eyes and fought for his footing on the ever shifting surface. He laid the sword at the entrance to my cave and called out, Wisest of the wise, O Lady of the Gold, I bring you a gift in exchange for your counsel. I waited, to see what he would do, and examined him. His skin was ochre, his hair like black silk, his clothes plain with little personal adornment. But what need had he of adornment when he shone, incandescent, with a pure blue nimbus?

He set up camp, a canvas pinned against the rock wall to keep out the sharp sands skittering in the dry air. The sun set and he made himself the thinnest of fires and ate spare rations. In the morning, he checked to see if I had taken his gift, and when he saw I had not, he beseeched me again: O holiest one, O wyrm of grace, I beg you lend me your counsel! See here, in trade I have brought you the sword of a champion – long gone but not forgotten.

Yesterday, a man brought me a sword.

He thought it a fine gift, this champion's sword. Expensive, yes. Powerful – unimaginably so. A gift worthy of monarchs, of sultans, of wizards… yes, indeed. And to another great, golden wyrm, it may have been. But I know that sword. I know the scent of it, I recall its power; how it banished the darkness of an unholy night. How it banished the darkness from the hearts of mortals. I recall the scent of the one who wielded it. I recall her nimbus of blue. Her recklessness, her drive, her love.

He flitted about his camp, the man who would offer me a sword. He spent his evening around the fire whittling and when he rested, I cat's-pawed to the entrance of my cave. With one lengthy talon, I moved it such that it might catch the starlight from above. You know, cor cordium, they never did get that nick from the blade that pestered you so.

Ereyesterday, a man brought me a sword.

Truth be told, he could do with a little more patience. But then, so did we both, when we were new-made. He came to the entrance of my cave, nearly tripping over the threshold. O mighty one! he cried, as though bereft. Will you not heed my plight? My people are beset by foul, undead things. Our leaders are dead, or fled. Or worse. We know not what to do. Please, I beg you. Accept my gift and help me! He fell to his knees in supplication. But, Beloved, do you know – he shone brightest of all when he spoke of his people. "Who sent you?" asked I. He trembled at the sound of my voice, but spoke true: My Nain. The sword was hers. She would come herself, but for her knees. Please, O Lady, tell me how to break this curse of my people. "You do not wish me to do it for you?" A flicker of uncertainty passed over his countenance. Oh, cor cordium. Were we ever that dumb? You… You could do that? asked he. "What is it you craft, at night about the fire?" Hesitantly he pulled it from his pack, a little rodent with wide ears and long feet and fur picked out in detail. It's a sand rat. I saw many on my journey here.

Ah… It was foregone, really, from that point on.

"You wish to offer me a gift in trade for my help, is that correct?" I asked of him. He nodded, fearfully. "Then I would like your little sculpture." But… I thought dragons liked things of power, or wealth? I laughed. "Not all wealth is to be found in expense. Not all treasures are gold. Come, place it here, on this shelf for me." Shaking, he did as bade. I nudged it a little into place. "Take up your sword… What is your name?" Eli, my Lady. The gods do enjoy a little joke, don't they, cor cordium? "Well then… Eli. Take up your sword." He lifted it gingerly, then hurried to the side as I stepped out. I shook out my wings – Bahamut! But I am stiff. You would say I've turned into my Father. Grown ponderous with age. I fear you may be correct. "Climb on and hold tight," I told this Eli. "We shall see what can be done about the unclean things besieging your town."

I had thought my time amongst mortals was done. I had thought those days of derring-do behind me. That sword… it pricked my heart anew. It reminded me what was lost… and what may yet be found. Oh, you'll forgive me, won't you, cor cordium? He did blaze so very blue.

[nine-blessed-hero]

I don't think it's weird. I'm so happy that you like my girl! :D And would love to be able to visit Talis' bakery in game! ^_^

(And maybe validates something I thought of writing, hehehe)

re: the tags (as below) on this post:-

#wishing I could start up oblivion and go find lecrinn in town to chat to #is that weird? to wish your friend's OCs were NPCs in the game you could interact with?

-----

Ah, I'm glad it's not an odd thing to think. And yes I do like your girl, very much. The way you write fluff really gets me sometimes 💖️

If I knew how to mod, I for sure would consider adding her and Talis' bakery to the game 😉️

[It] validates something I thought of writing

Oh ho? 👀️👀️👀️👀️

[emeraldhazeart]

This sounds like a really cute idea. Thank you for the tag 💚

For mine I'm going to go for:

A well lit room with a window overlooking a rural garden/fields (but no livestock - I would get way too distracted watching them 😅)

Solid stone walls in the house so I'm not disturbed by noise if anyone else is home

A sturdy desk under the window, with a comfortable chair and a separate footrest

Drawers in the desk to hold all my notebooks, pens and other writing supplies (I like to do the first draft on paper)

A computer monitor mounted at comfortable eye level, with a parallel stand I can prop my notebook on when I transfer the first draft to the screen

Keyboard with one of those silicon wrist rests for my hands

A designated area on the desk for my cat's bed, so he can curl up next to me while I work

A steady, gentle spatter of rain against the window - only just loud enough to hear

No pressure tags : @durotoswrites @beck-a-leck @friendofbats @acustardduckling @sneakyfox55 and anyone else that would like to join in

Build Your Own Writing Haven (tag game)

I was tagged by @buffythevampirelover here

Rules: without using any images, describe your ideal place to write :)

A porch of a nice house or cottage

It oversees a big garden with a forest or a lake (or both) in the background

It's sunny but the shade of the porch makes it easy to see my screen

It's late afternoon, warm but not too much

I can listen to the birds and trees or put on some music (depending on what my brain needs atm)

I have a nice cup of coffee and a big jug of water with herbs and lemon and maybe a little treat

there are people (my friends or family) somewhere in the house or the garden but they are doing their own things quietly, not disturbing me

No pressure tag for: @fromthechaoticmind, @ronanlyxch, @nieve-en-invierno-blog, @willtheweaver, @beginning-of-wisdom, @astorichan, @writercoracain 

[emeraldhazeart]

Wildflower, I vaguely know what it is but I'm curious about it.

Thank you for your ask 💚

Wildflower is a Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons fic of a girl who calls herself Claire trying to make a new life as a farmer in Mineral Town. But she's got a dark secret that she's hiding from the townsfolk, and inevitably, she won't be able to escape it forever.

Wildflower was the first multi-chapter fic I started since getting back into writing, so it's a bit rusty in places. I've also left it off on a cliffhanger (oops!) since my hyper fixation has gone off to another fandom. But I 100% intend to come back and continue Wildflower at some point.

It's not dead, just out to pasture for now!

[abbygracerecs]

Doctor Who Fic Reccommendations

9th Doctor

I love you - @alloftheimagines

Just One Yesterday - @lovelyfictional-imagines

10th Doctor

A Noble Ship Embarks - @kisstherainwriting

Now that I saw you, I can never look away - @penguinwithitsarseonfire

Danger Magnet - @thepokyone

Deepest Truth - @quietkatie1864

Are you drunk - @iwritefandomimagines

Having the blues - @doctorslove

The way you look at me - @kisstherainwriting

Make a move - @okay-j-hannah

Snap out of it - @gracesimp

Heartstring - @make-me-imagine

Just like old times - @11thsdoctress

Hear my words - @okay-j-hannah

School Reunion - @starfirette this one is smut

11th Doctor

Deep - @marauder-exe

Little Family - @specialagentlokitty

You make me want things I can't have - @iwritefandomimagines

Touchy - @onceuponachole

You've changed - @11thsdoctress

Starry nights are for coffee and contemplation - @cloginthedrain

My point is... -@11thsdoctress

Is it alright to say what I feel? - @11thsdoctress

12th Doctor

Light in the Dark - @i-imagine-my-doctor

Heartbeat - @morganas-pendragons i cry everytime i read this

A Perfect Day - @quietkatie1864

In Another's Eyes - @cas-kingdom

13th Doctor

Come on in - @fabulouspotatosister

Autistic!reader - @x-neurodivergent-reader

Hidden Colors - @timelord-winchester-22b

[notjustjavierpena]

Sucía: Part III - Unrequited

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: So many requests for this one and inspiration finally hit the right spot. This can be read as a standalone piece but I recommend the whole thing.

Summary: Somewhere along the way, you end up in a situationship with Javier Peña. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, unrequited love, situationship, fuckboy!javier, alcohol consumption, various pet names, papi/daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, praises, so much making out, pussy eating, desperate and rough sex, piv sex, possessive sex, face slapping, fingersucking, creampie

Word count: 4.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48859147/chapters/123256180

Unrequited

After you spend a whole night and day in Javier's arms, a month passes, but it never repeats itself, never becomes as tender. You start to think that it might have been a way to lure you in, a highly intelligent skill developed in a predator who wants to keep its prey around for as long as possible. Instead of dating the cop, you become entangled in some sort of strange arrangement and everything about Javier Peña tells you to run for the hills; the handsome forever bachelor with an apartment that has never had the touch of a woman, the man who rests a cigarette so effortlessly between his fingers but never wants to hold your hand. This is despite how you think he should be at the age where men start to panic about not having settled down. He seems so desperate to stress that this isn’t love, even when he coos your name so gently when he takes you in his arms after making your whole nervous system go into overdrive. 

Yet, there’s something about him that makes you keep coming back, makes you ignore the insistence of the warning bells in your head because Papí always takes care of you, right, Nena (babygirl)? And perhaps, it’s the way his hands run through your hair while your back arches, the way he touches you as if he is reaching inside your chest and pulling at your heartstrings, or how his dark, intense eyes watch you as you give yourself to him without hesitation, his gaze peeling back every layer of your insecurities about your physique and making them fade away during the nights you spend together. 

Despite his evident desire, his praises of your body, and your eagerness, he never says the things you actually want to hear. There are no declarations of love, no promises of forever in his moonlit bedroom other than the way he tells you that no one fucks him quite like you or the post-orgasmic vulnerability that makes him let you in on what he did before coming back to life in the Lone Star State. It causes you to make excuses for him; he is a man who has been hurt in the past, who’s built walls so high around his heart that not even he knows how to tear them down. Because he has had to. And now, he is a man who is content with the rough edges of life rather than the soft embrace of love. 

Your friend Hannah, your confidant, tells you to end it, that he is a loser. Your mother and father don't know about him, and when you lie about whose sheets you spend the night in, you convince yourself that it’s for the better. No one who cares about you would want you in this situation, so why do you keep doing it? Maybe the danger is covered by the thrill. Maybe there’s something exciting about the idea of holding your relationship out for everyone to stare at, desperately trying to stress that you should have seen him in the beginning when he first had me!

You are at his door again in the late evening, having dropped everything as soon as he called and changed your jeans and t-shirt into a miniskirt and crop top. It is only so he thinks that this is how you normally dress, wanting to keep up the illusion that you are enticing and alluring even when he doesn’t see you, that he needs to hold onto you otherwise you’ll be snatched out of his grip. 

Maybe you’re the loser here.

Javier opens the door and takes you in, looking like someone repressing a question about where you’ve been since you’re dressed up like this. Nothing in him seems to acknowledge the obvious fact that you want to look nice for him, so he doesn’t compliment it and just takes a step back. His eyes, however, do soften as he watches you step into his home. 

“Can I get you something? A beer? Whiskey?” He asks nonchalantly as you enter the living room and then follow him into the kitchen. His shirt is untucked from his jeans, the knot on his tie loosened, and his hair is slightly tousled from his own hand running through it. You notice the kitchen window has been opened and the ashtray on the breakfast table has a half-smoked cigarette in it. 

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” you say, saving the pleasantries; you know why you’re here and so does he. You just need an in, a way of getting things rolling, so you lean back against the kitchen counter while watching him take out a beer for himself. He takes a long swig of the bottle, a single drop threatening to drip from the corner of his mouth and causing your own mouth to run dry. 

“Long day?” You ask as he swallows his drink, the gorgeous column of his neck peeking out from underneath the collar and tie. You’ve kissed him so many times there. You tilt your head, noticing that it’s definitely not his first drink, “Catch any bad guys?”

Javier nods but doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he sets his beer down on the table before walking to stand in front of you. You feel a bit of annoyance at his silence, so you rest a hand on his wrist when he tries to undo the first button of your cropped shirt, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He tenses up at the invasive question even if you meant nothing by it, simply using it to make him word what he wants from you. He furrows his brow, mouth becoming a thin line for just a second. However, when he opens his mouth, and you’re sure he is going to retort, his voice has gotten a rougher edge, “No, I want you, Princesa (Princess).” 

You know what the use of that pet name means and it’s what you want too, what you keep coming back for if it means his eyes roaming over your body like they do right now, hungry and possessive. You’ll gladly play the part to be worshiped for a night at a time. Your hand falls from his wrist to his belt buckle, your other hand joining to undo it until it makes a clinking noise as it opens. You let the belt hang down to the sides, going straight for the button and zipper instead of wasting time with getting him fully undressed. 

Javier, however, stops you and seems determined to get at least your top off first. He continues unbuttoning it until it hangs open, swearing at the sight of your lack of a bra. His palms go underneath the fabric and grope at your sides, sliding upwards until he can cup your breasts. 

“Papí,” you breathe softly when his thumbs skim over your nipples, and the tension in the air from before seems to evaporate completely. He leans in until you are pressed against the edge of the kitchen table and then captures your mouth in a needy kiss. It is fierce and hungry, taking your breath away from you as you give in to him once more. He makes you squeak into his mouth as he pinches both your nipples, tugging slightly until it stings just a little. It’s a punishment, you realize, for trying to crack the surface of him.

“Don’t ask me that sorta question again,” he says when he needs a mouthful of air, his breath hot against your lips. He stares into your eyes, not scared of holding your gaze this up close, and you can feel yourself shaking your head with wide eyes. He swallows and speaks again, “You don’t want me like that.”

“I know,” you reply with a trembling voice that betrays you in your lie. Just a month ago, you were so certain of yourself and confident in what you wanted from him but the yearning for his touch has only made you weaker since he invited you into his bedroom for the first time. Clearly, he feels it too because his hands remove themselves from your body to lay flat on the kitchen table. 

“You know I can’t,” he whispers while his eyes roam over your face, settling on your mouth that has fallen open. You miss his touch but his hands are immovable on the kitchen counter, almost like he needs you to initiate everything again so he doesn’t feel like a prick. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you promise as you reach up to cup his face, dragging his mouth to your open one to make him kiss you feverishly again. He makes you so wet that it is ridiculous, brushing his tongue against yours in a way that reminds you just how great he fucks you each time. Is that all he thinks he is good for? 

“Tell me to stop,” he continues, his mouth descending on your neck, leaving a trail of spit in its wake while his hands slowly inch closer to your body again. He settles them on your waist, thumbs digging into the soft and exposed skin of your stomach. 

“I can’t, Papí,” you moan with each mark he leaves along the column of your throat and gasp in surprise when he lifts you onto the kitchen counter. He stands in front of you, not fully in your embrace yet, and his breath is hot and heavy against your damp skin.

“And why is that?” He almost seems to be taunting you. He nibbles along the spot where your blood courses through your veins and he can feel your pulse the hardest.

“Because,” you swallow as you realize how hard it is to let him go despite knowing you probably should before you get your heart broken. You’re still here, taking whatever scraps of himself that he’ll offer, “Because I don’t want you to stop.”

“Then tell me you want me like I want you,” he sounds like he is pleading you to slip into the role you usually inhabit. You try not to think about what those words mean to the both of you. His hands lift off your skin. They hover for a moment as if giving you one last out, but when you stay frozen, waiting for more, he places his palms on top of your thighs. He pushes them apart, pulling out the big guns to make your brain stutter in its train of thought. You know what’s coming before he even sinks to his knees. 

You let your head fall back as he disappears underneath your miniskirt with the gaze of a worshipper, one hand having gotten there just moments before to drag your panties to the side. He drags his lazy tongue through your soaked folds, letting it delve into your cunt for a second just for a taste. You are sure you have already made his mustache shiny with your slick, dripping obscenely from merely kissing him because you are so pathetically obsessed with him. You reach to yank your skirt up, needing to see if wetness is smearing his chin too as he moves closer to your clit. 

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair to yank his head up too. He smirks up at you, eyes perfectly dazed with how drunk he is from mixing his liquor with going down on you. The sight of his shiny, satisfied face makes your pussy clench and release on its own, a little moan leaving you even when he isn’t doing anything to you except staring. You know that your meaningless noises are exactly what he wants instead of your attempt at connection. 

You grip the counter with your free hand when he dips his head down again and wraps his lips around your pulsing clit, his cheeks hollowing with how he sucks on the little nub like it is a hard candy. He continues staring up at you through his lashes as he does it, pupils blown wide with desire until the brown in his beautiful eyes is almost completely replaced with black. You watch him eat you out enthusiastically, and you whimper feebly from how each of his licks and sucks is a step further toward your undoing. He loves going down on you but there’s a certain urgency in his work on your clit as if he wants you with scrambled brains so you won’t annoy him again with your feelings, your need of digging deeper. 

You have a suspicion that he only calls you when he is in need of distraction, of replacing the loneliness and frustration he feels in his empty apartment with something that’s bound to end in euphoria. You wonder how his day has actually been. Does it even matter? No one has ever made you feel this way. This wanted. Desired. 

Beneath you, Javier pulls back for just a second and your heart skips a beat, the timing with your racing mind making you fear that he might have read your thoughts. However, he simply heaves for breath. 

“You taste so fucking good, bebita (baby),” he murmurs only to dive back into your cunt with newfound energy. His tongue glides across your clit again, presses harder, and you moan louder, the sound scratching the back of your throat. Your head bumps against the kitchen cabinet behind you, your fingers tightening in his short, dark hair to keep up an illusion of control over his power over you. Yet he just responds with a filthy open-mouthed kiss to your clit as if he wants to remind you who’s really in charge. 

“That feels so fucking good,” you gasp towards the ceiling. However, when you think it can’t get any better, he pauses only briefly to push your miniskirt all the way up to your hips so your thighs can be dragged onto his shoulders. He places a hand on your side, his thumb just below your ribs, and bobs his head slightly while his tongue is tensed up as it flicks expertly against the little nub. You can hear his breathing grow heavy through his nose to keep himself from needing a break and then he works towards making you come. 

When it hits you, it’s almost too much. He latches onto your clit as it happens, coaxing out each little twitch of it while you see stars, body shaking on the counter. You tug on his hair gently, arching into the sensation of him slurping up whatever you give him. and cry out his name in the quiet space. He makes you feel completely overwhelmed and sated at the same time. 

He only pulls back when you start whimpering for him to stop. He sits back a little on his feet, rubbing your thighs soothingly with his face shining in the overhead lights. He doesn’t say anything yet, waits for you to come down to earth with him once more. 

The buzz he has left in your lower body makes you giggle. You cup his face, high on the tingling in your spit-slicked clit, “You eat pussy so fucking well, Papi.”

“And I love eating this pussy out, Princesa (princess),” he replies with no hesitation, seeming ready to spoil you further from hearing that nickname out of your mouth. Gently, he removes your legs from his shoulders so he can rise to his feet again. He leans in, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips until you are breathless all over again. 

You can feel his hands sliding up your sides until they pull your already-open blouse off your shoulders, dropping it onto the kitchen counter as if it belongs in the room. He dips down for another kiss, one that’s just as desperate, just as thorough in wanting you but a realization hits you square in the chest. The intensity between the two of you isn’t just passion; it’s sadness, a mutual understanding that whatever this is, it is all it will ever be. No promises of a future together. 

You moan helplessly when Javier slips his tongue into your mouth, holding your hips tightly while you remove his tie and unbutton his shirt rather hurriedly. You can’t help already aching for more, feeling as if you’ll perish if you don’t consume everything he is willing to give you. He barely gives you time to drop his tie onto the floor, doesn’t give you time either to take a breath before he scoops you up, his broad hands sliding under your thighs to hoist you up. 

Instinctively, you wrap your limbs around him and cling to him. Your fingers thread through his hair like earlier, dragging his mouth over yours again while he takes sure steps toward his bedroom. He is so close like this, the front of his chest rubbing against your bare tits until you whimper from how your nipples harden at the simple touch. He is so hard in his jeans, straining against your barely covered sex. You think he must be aching by now, desperate with his head swimming as much as yours with each step he takes towards the end goal that is his bed. 

You’re right. He doesn’t even reach his bedroom before he has pushed you against a wall, his hips crashing against yours and eliciting a loud groan from his throat. He doesn’t stay on your mouth, moves his lips down the column of your neck until your belly twists with burning desire from each nip of your sensitive skin. 

“Shit, Javi,” you groan as he thrusts his hips into you again, your nails scratching his shoulders until the fabric of his shirt bunches up between your fingers. You yank it down his arms, hoping to have him more undressed soon. 

“Needed you so fucking bad, had to call you,” he murmurs while inhaling the skin of your neck as if he can smell the dopamine on you. He soothes a hickey with his tongue, panting as he repeatedly presses his hard cock into your core. The rough fabric of his jeans against your soaked panties makes you moan, unable to think of anything but him. 

“Take this off,” you push further on his shirt, barely coherent with how your sensitive clit throbs, “Fuck, I want you so much.”

Javier obliges and holds you up by leaning his weight into you. His pulse beats hard in his chest, able to be felt against your own heated skin. He lets the sleeves of his shirt slide off one by one until it finally lies pooling on the floor. It is rare you get undressed with this intensity, almost symbolic of how he is leaving breadcrumbs of you and him in his apartment. 

“I need you to fuck me, Papi,” you beg with a few hungry kisses when it becomes too much to be so continuously empty. His cock is right there and you long for it to stretch you open. He shushes you as you whine and then nods without words.

His grip around your thighs tightens as he hauls you off the wall, using his foot to push the door to his bedroom open. He makes his way for the bed, lowering you carefully onto it when he is right by the edge. 

“Get those clothes off and spread your legs,” he commands while vaguely gesturing for you to hurry up. He stares down at you while you shimmy out of your miniskirt and panties, his eyes heavy-lidded as his hands find the zipper on his jeans in the meantime. He hisses as he drags his pants and underwear down in one go, the graze of his cock looking like it is almost too much with how hard he is. Your head floods with what it will feel like when he finally slips into the heat between your legs. 

“Please,” you let your thighs fall open because you want to see if the delicious images in your head are real, inviting him to join you when the sight of his generous erect cock makes your chest heave. 

“You’ll do anything for it right now, won't you?” His tone drops to something condescending and he climbs onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You nod frantically because of how you see him reach down between your bodies to guide himself to where you need him the most. You feel how he doesn’t slide into you yet but instead teases your slick folds until you try pushing yourself down onto his length. He chuckles darkly, satisfied by your eagerness, and dips the head into you with a ragged breath, “Puta (slut).”

You moan and shake your head, “No.”

“Then why did you just squeeze my cock as I said it, bebita (baby)? You dirty girl,” he taunts, finally pressing fully inside of you with a sigh of satisfaction and relief. You groan alongside him when he kisses the very back of your cunt, your slick walls welcoming his girth even if it stings. 

You grab at his shoulders as if clinging onto dear life, your nails creating crescent-shaped marks in his skin, but Javier gathers your wrists in a firm grip to pin them above your head. The loss of control makes you dizzy with lust, a pleading look on your face as he thrusts experimentally. Once again, the two of you groan in unison at the sensation of finally melting together. 

Javier holds himself up on his elbow, free hand cupping your face to stroke his thumb across your cheek. He kisses your lips in sweet contrast to his name-calling as he starts rolling his hips into you, the lewd sounds of sex filling the room. 

“Mine,” he growls under his breath. 

You find yourself reeling from how completely he fills you up, moving inside of you like he is made for it, and continuously slamming into that one spot that has your vision blurring. God, what is the point in wanting more from him? In needing love that might send him running when no one could ever fuck you like this? It’s a dangerous addiction. He is the only one to make your body sing like this so you nod in agreement. You’re his and you let him know with a loud cry. 

“Tell me who owns this whore pussy,” he demands, not satisfied with a simple nod. His maddening thrusts become sharper and punctuate his words while he stares down at you, waiting for your answer with dark eyes.

“You, Papi, it belongs— fuck, it’s yours,” you gasp, your voice trembling with how well his cock works you open. Your back is sweaty from your raging and rapid heartbeat, your body clinging to the sheets as pleasure builds impossibly fast. 

“You fucking bet it’s me. Can’t you feel how I’m beating her up real good? Fuck, she’s weeping for me, pobrecita (poor thing),” his hips snap impossibly harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with obscene sounds that make your toes curl and your back arch. 

“You’re so deep— oh my God, fuck, Papi!” You squeak underneath him, your head thrown back at a particularly hard thrust. He makes a sound of disapproval, even if he can’t stop himself from kissing the exposed, stretched part of your neck.

“Ojos aquí, Princesa (eyes here, princess),” he commands you but when you don’t immediately react in your cockdrunk state, his hand slips down to harshly grab your chin. He yanks your gaze back to him and your breath hitches at the sight of him. His eyes are burning right through you, filled with authority, and sending a ravenous shiver down to your pulsing cunt. He lets out a guttural moan as you choke his length then smirks in triumph, “That’s it, Don’t make me ask again.”

You’re wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights of a car, nodding your head repeatedly while he fucks you open with a tighter grip on your wrists. He tests your obedience, caressing your cheek sweetly with his free hand for a second before letting it come down in a smack. You whimper and moan at the surprise-sting, brain scrambling to process the mix between pleasure and pain but you don’t let your gaze falter. Your instincts keep your eyes on him even if you want to close them. Instead, you furrow your brow but no more than that, chewing on your bottom lip to deal with it all. 

“Fuck, you’re so good for me. Such a good girl,” he praises, soothing your warm cheek with his thumb where he has just struck you, “Look at you taking my dick so well, keeping those pretty eyes on me like a good little slut. You’re perfect, baby.”

Not removing your eyes from his, you turn your head slightly until the tip of his thumb pokes into your bottom lip. You part your lips, swollen from kisses, and suck on the digit like it is his cock. It’s a lewd sight, your cheeks hollowed while he presses slightly down on your soft tongue until you drool. 

He groans low in his throat, his breathing suddenly sounding like he is much closer than before. He loves it when you’re filthy and he rewards you by finally removing his hand from your wrists. His calloused palm trails down your side until he can slip it under your back to rest it right at the bottom of your spine. The way he pushes your pelvis slightly into the air causes your toes to curl, the new angle making him hit even deeper. You thank the finger in your mouth because you start screaming as you come. 

Despite your arms free, you can do little else but helplessly hold onto the headboard of the bed, feeling as if it is the only thing anchoring you to the bed. Your nails claw at the wood, your mouth falling open enough for a gargled version of his name to leave it. 

Javier pants at the way your walls clamp down on him, squeezing his cock rhythmically as you cry feebly through your intense pleasure. He breathes deeply in through his nose, the way he sometimes does when teetering on the edge of his own orgasm, and kisses your open mouth filthily. His thumb slips out as he does it, smearing saliva on your cheek, and his thrusts become relentless. It almost hurts when you’re so sensitive but you take it until he stills his hips.

“Dios mío, así (my God, like that),” he groans into your mouth but then his head drops to your shoulder as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he pumps you full of come. The warmth of him fills you, and you whine as heat spreads inside of you, your body shaking from overstimulation and aftershocks. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, his weight on top of you so heavenly as you both come down again. 

“You okay?” He murmurs gently, his voice almost sounding concerned due to affection. 

You nod beneath him, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. The question twists like a knife in your chest because it isn’t really what he is asking. What he really wants to know is whether you are still playing by his rules, if this is still casual to you. It’s not. It hasn’t been since he dried your post-orgasmic tears away a month ago. 

“Yeah,” you nod, wishing he wouldn’t ask you that while he is still inside of you, “I’m fine.”

He kisses you softly but the softness is fleeting and a few kisses later, he pulls out of you with a slight hiss. He rolls off of you, leaving you bare in his bedroom and causing you to freeze. 

“Good,” he replies monotonously. There’s a pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, and he reaches for one and his lighter. 

You want to say those three little words so badly but the risk is unbearable. Is it better to have this than nothing at all? Sometimes, you wonder if he feels it too, the hollow ache that settles in your chest each time you untangle, or if he’s already moved on. 

“Stay the night,” he states or suggests as he takes a satisfying drag of his smoke. He turns his head and looks at you, stealing the air from your lungs when he looks like he wants to say something more. You prepare yourself but then he slips out of bed with that easy grace, and you’re left with the fading warmth of where his body has been.

“Okay,” you hear yourself say. You know he just doesn’t want to be alone in his apartment.

Still, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to break through all his barriers, to be the woman of his dreams who could make him stay in every way. You imagine it sometimes during the quiet moments when he’s finally asleep beside you, his face soft as he has his guard down momentarily. You imagine what it would be like if he really let you in but he always checks out before you can even begin to think of demanding more.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[autisticempathydaemon]

Fun fact, I had @frenchiefitzhere’s headcanons in mind when I wrote my card, specifically the hc that Colm and Marie are that couple even after all these years and Milo developed a high standard for romance by watching them 💕

Sky Side Valentine's Exchange!

Now that the day is coming to end I can share the cards from the Sky Side Discord server Valentine's Day exchange! We all wrote cards from the perspectives of each other's favorite characters and then exchanged them! There's a mix of physical and digital cards in here and it was super fun to see how everyone interpreted the characters both in writing and in the card designs themselves. I'm always super grateful for my server and everyone in it. Y'all are truly the most talented people I know and every time I host an event I'm always humbled by how much talent there is in the group. Thanks to everyone who participated and everyone in my server as a whole I love y'all a ton. Happy Valentine's Day! All the cards are under the cut - the person who made the card will be tagged above the card they made! This post might be updated as I think I'm missing a few! Hope y'all enjoy!

@ejunkiet

@carcassofhannah

@/katieb

@autisticempathydaemon

@lovelylonerliterature

@your-local-mom-whore

@kilarthmac

@mars-mell

The next two are mine!

@androgynouspenguinexpert

[03jyh23]

🌷⌇seeds of uncertainty finding our way back part 7; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood, physical violence, blood mentioned, mature language, emotional manipulation

│words: 8.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! i hope you all had a lovely weekend! till now the story was somewhat a slow-burn when it came to certain aspects but it's going to change now! as always let me know your thoughts!

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

│ @originalcupcakenacho │ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │

│ @sweetinsaniiity│ @jennifermakmur│ @mitchii │

│ @hannah-97 │ @hyuckiesgf │ @treehouse-mouse │

│ @eternoange1│@ultrapinkvoidbouquet │ @jycas │

│ @velvetskize │

│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJongho entered the apartment, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid disturbing the sleeping child in his arms. With utmost care, he gently placed Nari's belongings on the corridor drawer, each item set down with a whisper-soft touch. He then removed his shoes, the familiar ritual feeling different tonight, weighted with the responsibility of the precious cargo he carried.

Nari stirred slightly in his arms, her small form shifting against his chest. "Are we home?" she asked, her voice a sleepy murmur that tugged at Jongho's heartstrings.

"Yes, sweetheart, we're home," Jongho whispered back, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. He infused his words with all the tenderness he felt. As he walked, he rubbed soothing circles on Nari's back, a rhythmic motion designed to lull her back into sleep. The door to Nari's room creaked softly as Jongho pushed it open with his elbow, careful not to jostle his daughter. He fumbled for a moment before finding the switch for her night light. A warm, comforting glow suffused the room as it flickered to life. Jongho carefully lowered Nari onto her bed, supporting her head and body to ensure a smooth transition from his arms to the mattress. As he laid her down, he couldn't help but marvel at how small and fragile she looked amidst the sea of pillows and plushies. He took a moment to tuck her in, pulling the comforter up to her chin with gentle, loving motions. As he did so, he found himself memorizing every detail of her peaceful face, from the soft curve of her cheek to the flutter of her eyelashes against her skin.

"Mommy?" Nari's voice, thick with sleep, broke the silence. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, a hint of confusion in their depths as she struggled against the pull of slumber.

Jongho's heart clenched at the sound. He leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper as he sought to reassure her. "Shh, it's okay. Mommy will be here soon," he murmured, his fingers gently carding through Nari's hair in a soothing rhythm. The repetitive motion seemed to calm her, and he added softly, "For now, Uncle is here. Go back to sleep, angel." Nari's eyes drifted closed once more, succumbing to the irresistible call of sleep. Jongho settled himself on the edge of her bed. As Nari's breathing became calm and steady, Jongho took out his phone. Worried that you still weren't back, he sent a quick message: "Hey, is everything okay? Nari's asleep. Let me know when you're on your way home." He tucked the phone back into his pocket, then leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Nari's forehead. Satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, Jongho quietly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He made his way to the kitchenette, his movements careful and deliberate in the quiet apartment. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his mind still reeling from the earlier encounter with Hyunwoo. The cool liquid did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. The confrontation in the hallway played on repeat in his mind, each word, each accusation etching itself deeper into his consciousness. Jongho closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to process everything that had happened. The weight of fatherhood, which had felt so light and joyous earlier in the day, now seemed to press down on him with renewed intensity. Questions and doubts began to creep in, fueled by Hyunwoo's words. Had he truly been absent for too long? Could he make up for lost time? And most pressingly, how would he navigate this complex situation with Hyunwoo's apparent involvement in Nari's life? Jongho shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. He reminded himself of the progress he'd made, of the bond he was forming with Nari. He set the glass down before making his way to the sofa, his body heavy with exhaustion. He sank into the plush cushions, letting out a deep sigh as the tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. For a moment, he contemplated turning on the TV to distract himself from the thoughts in his mind. However, he quickly decided against it, worried that the noise might disturb Nari's sleep. Instead, he allowed himself to relax further into the comfortable embrace of the sofa. Before he knew it, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off into an unintended slumber.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤJongho wasn't sure how long he had been asleep when a sudden cry pierced through the veil of his unconsciousness. His eyes snapped open, instantly alert despite the fog of sleep still clinging to his mind. It took him a moment to register where he was and what was happening. Then, as the cry sounded again, louder this time, he bolted upright, his heart racing.

"Mommy!" Nari's cry echoed through the apartment, jolting Jongho fully awake. He was on his feet in an instant, his fatigue forgotten as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Without hesitation, he rushed towards Nari's room, his heart pounding with concern for his daughter.

As he approached her door, he could hear her distressed whimpers growing louder. Jongho pushed the door open gently, not wanting to startle her further. "Nari, sweetheart," he called softly, stepping into the dimly lit room. "It's okay, I'm here."

Nari was sitting up in her bed, tears streaming down her face, her small hands clutching her favorite stuffed animal. As Jongho approached, she looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Where's Mommy?" she whimpered, her voice trembling.

Jongho's heart ached at the sight of his daughter's distress. He quickly moved to her bedside, sitting down gently and opening his arms. "Mommy's not here right now, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "But I'm here for you. Can I give you a hug?" Nari nodded softly before throwing herself into Jongho's arms, her tiny hands clutching at his shoulders, her small body still trembling. "Shh, angel," Jongho whispered, gently cradling her against his chest. He began to rock her slowly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's okay, I'm here," he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. "You're safe, sweetheart. Uncle’s got you." He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, feeling her gradually relax in his embrace.

As Nari's sobs gradually subsided into quiet sniffles, Jongho continued to hold her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mixture of love, protectiveness, and a newfound sense of purpose. In that moment, he realized just how profoundly he had come to care for this little girl. Being a father, which used to seem scary and overwhelming to Jongho, now felt natural and rewarding. His earlier worries faded away. Instead, he felt a strong desire to be the best father he could be for Nari. He was determined to give her all the love and support she needed.

"Would you like to lay down again, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper as he continued to cradle Nari in his arms. He could feel her small body still trembling slightly against his chest, a reminder of the vulnerability he now held in his embrace.

Nari shook her head, her voice muffled against his shirt as she replied, "No, I wanna sleep in Mommy's room." There was a brief pause, filled with the sound of her quiet sniffles, before she added hesitantly, "Wanna bathe."

Jongho found himself at a crossroads, carefully considering Nari's requests. The rational part of his mind reminded him that it was late, and a bath at this hour wasn't exactly ideal. However, as he gazed down at Nari's tear-stained face and felt her small body still quivering from her earlier distress, his heart made the decision for him. Perhaps the warm, soothing water would help calm her frayed nerves and wash away the remnants of her nightmare.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said gently, his hand moving to stroke her hair in a comforting rhythm. "How about we have a quick, warm bath to help you feel better, and then you can sleep in Mommy's room? Does that sound good to you?" His voice was soft and reassuring, filled with a tenderness he didn't even know he possessed until this moment. Nari nodded against his chest, her sobs now quieting to small, intermittent hiccups. Jongho could feel her body relaxing slightly in his arms, the tension slowly ebbing away. With careful movements, he stood up slowly, still holding her close to his heart. "Alright, let's get you that bath," with Nari still clinging to him, Jongho navigated through her room, his movements gentle yet purposeful. He rummaged through her drawers with one hand, the other securely holding his daughter close. His fingers sifted through the neatly folded clothes, searching for a pair of soft, comfortable pajamas and clean underwear. Once he had gathered everything they needed, he made his way to the bathroom, his steps slow and steady to avoid jostling Nari.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤIn the bathroom, Jongho carefully sat Nari down on the closed toilet lid, making sure she was stable before reluctantly letting go. He turned his attention to the bathtub, twisting the faucet to release a stream of warm water. As the tub began to fill, he reached for the bottle of bubble bath, adding a generous squeeze to the running water. Almost immediately bubbles began to form, filling the air with a soft, comforting scent. The change in Nari's demeanor was almost instantaneous.

As she caught sight of the rising bubbles, a small smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth, chasing away the last vestiges of her earlier distress. "Bubbles!" she exclaimed softly. Jongho couldn't help but mirror her smile, feeling relieved at the sight of her brightening mood.

"That's right, sweetheart," he said, "Lots and lots of bubbles, just for you." He dipped his hand into the water, swirling it around to test the temperature. Satisfied that it was comfortably warm but not too hot, he turned back to Nari. "Okay, little one, let's get you in the tub. The bubbles are waiting for you." With gentle, careful movements, Jongho helped Nari out of her day clothes, then he lifted her with tender hands and slowly lowered her into the warm, bubbly water. As Nari settled into the tub, surrounded by shimmering foam, her eyes lit up with pure, childish delight. The earlier tears were now replaced by a look of wonder as she reached out to scoop up a handful of bubbles, giggling as they slipped through her fingers. Watching her, Jongho felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling so profound it almost took his breath away. At that moment, as he knelt beside the bathtub, watching his daughter play in the bubbles, all the doubts and fears that had plagued him earlier seemed to dissolve. This, he realized, was what fatherhood was truly about - these small, precious moments of joy and comfort. With a gentle smile, he reached for the shampoo, ready to help his daughter finish her bath and prepare for a peaceful night's sleep.

"Alright, angel, time to towel off and put on some pajamas," Jongho said, reaching for a fluffy towel. He helped Nari stand up in the tub, carefully wrapping the towel around her small frame. With gentle movements, he lifted her out of the bath and set her down on the bathmat. As he began to dry her off, Jongho couldn't help but marvel at how natural this all felt now. The initial awkwardness and uncertainty had given way to a sense of purpose and love that filled his entire being. He carefully patted Nari dry, making sure to be extra gentle with her hair "There we go, all dry," he smiled, reaching for the clean pajamas he had brought. "Let's get you dressed and ready for bed, sweetheart." Jongho helped Nari into her pajamas, carefully buttoning up the soft fabric.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThey made their way back to the living room. Jongho intended to lay Nari down on the sofa. However, she clung tightly to him, her small arms wrapped around his neck. Sensing her need for comfort, Jongho decided to sit down with her still in his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmured softly, reaching for a nearby blanket. He draped it over both of them, cocooning them in its warmth. Nari snuggled closer, her head resting against his chest. Jongho began to gently rock her, his voice low and soothing as he started to hum a lullaby. The melody, soft and comforting, filled the quiet room. He felt Nari's body gradually relax against him, her breathing becoming slower and more even. As he continued to sing, Jongho marveled at the moment. The weight of his daughter in his arms, the trust she placed in him, filled his heart with an indescribable warmth. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice never faltering in the lullaby. In the quiet of the night, father and daughter sat together, enveloped in a blanket of warmth and love, the gentle lullaby a testament to their growing bond.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤYou walked into the quiet apartment, your head pounding from an exhausting day at work. Closing the door silently behind you, you moved through the space. Your gaze immediately went to Nari's room, but you found her bed empty. A momentary panic gripped your heart before you quickly looked to the living room. There, you noticed a disheveled tuft of fluffy brown hair on a pillow, soft snores filling the room. Relief washed over you as you approached quietly. The sight before you made your heart swell with affection. Nari was curled up in Jongho's arms, her small form rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Careful not to wake them, you gently adjusted the blanket, ensuring it covered both sleeping figures. You placed a soft kiss on Nari's forehead, yet your eyes lingered on Jongho. Smiling, you ran your hand gently on his cheek, your thumb brushing against his lower lip. The man you loved—or perhaps still loved—the father of your daughter, looked angelic. His arms were wrapped loosely around Nari, her head resting against his chest. You couldn't count how many times you had dreamed of a moment like this, to walk into not a house, but a home—a home that you dreamed of creating with Jongho. Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart bursting with emotion. You smiled, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. God, you would do anything to get to see this each day. The scene before you was everything you had ever wanted, yet it felt just out of reach. Jongho and Nari, were peacefully asleep, looking like the perfect family you had always imagined.

As you stood there, watching them sleep, a mix of joy and longing washed over you. Joy for the growing bond between Jongho and Nari, and longing for what could have been—what still might be, if you dared to hope. You wondered if there was a way to bridge the gap, to turn this fleeting moment into a lasting reality. But as quickly as those thoughts came, you pushed them aside. It was too soon, you reminded yourself. Jongho had only just returned to your life days ago. The wounds still lingered, the history between you unresolved. You couldn't let yourself get carried away by one tender moment, no matter how it tugged at your heartstrings. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. This was a time for caution, for careful steps forward. You needed to focus on what was best for Nari, on building a stable co-parenting relationship with Jongho. Romance and reconciliation were thoughts for another time, if ever. For now, you had to keep your feet firmly on the ground, even as your heart yearned to soar.

You shook your head, chiding your own thoughts. Maybe you could allow yourself to be selfish, just for the next couple of hours. Settling down next to Jongho, you rested your head on his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his neck. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the warmth of his presence. The steady rhythm of his breathing and Nari's soft snores filled the quiet room. In this moment, wrapped in the cocoon of familial warmth, a sense of peace washed over you. It was a fleeting indulgence, you knew, but one your heart desperately needed. As you drifted off to sleep, a small part of you wondered what the morning would bring. But for now, in this perfect slice of time, you allowed yourself to simply be—a mother, a woman, part of this little family unit that felt so right, even if it was just for tonight.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe soft morning light filtered through the curtains, gently illuminating the living room. Nari stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She lifted her head from Jongho's chest, her gaze wandering until it landed on you, nestled against Jongho's side. For a moment, confusion clouded her sleepy eyes. Then, as recognition dawned, her face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Mommy?! Uncle?!" she exclaimed, her voice a blend of excitement and bewilderment. Her sudden outburst broke the peaceful silence of the morning, causing both you and Jongho to stir. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented as you realized the position you were in - snuggled close to Jongho, his arm around you, his head resting atop yours. Jongho, too, began to wake, his arm instinctively tightening around you before his eyes snapped open, suddenly alert. The realization of your proximity dawned on him, and you could feel the sudden tension in his body.

Nari, oblivious to the adults' awkwardness, giggled with delight. "Mommy and Uncle were sleeping together!" she announced, her innocent observation hanging in the air between you and Jongho. Her eyes widened with excitement as a new thought struck her. "Will I have a baby brother now?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with innocent hope and curiosity. You felt your cheeks flush crimson, your eyes darting to meet Jongho's equally startled gaze. The awkwardness in the room intensified tenfold as you both struggled to find an appropriate response to Nari's unexpected question.

Jongho cleared his throat, his voice slightly strained as he attempted to address Nari's innocent question. "Angel, that's not... I mean, it doesn't quite work like that," he stumbled over his words, shooting a desperate glance your way. The situation had caught him completely off guard, and he found himself struggling to find an appropriate explanation for a child's curious mind.

You stepped in, "Nari, honey, Mommy, and Uncle were just sleeping. That doesn't mean we're going to have a baby." You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, acutely aware of Jongho's presence beside you. You silently hoped that your explanation would satisfy Nari's curiosity.

Your daughter's brows furrowed in confusion, her gaze darting between you and Jongho. "But you were sleeping together, like in the movies!" she insisted, her child-like logic unshakeable. Her innocent observation hung in the air, making the atmosphere even more uncomfortable. Nari's eyes lit up with excitement as she exclaimed, "When big mommies and daddies sleep together in movies, they have babies!" Jongho let out a nervous chuckle, running his hand through his hair. The two of you exchanged a panicked glance, desperately trying to figure out how to handle this unexpected turn in the conversation.

"Sweetie," Jongho began gently, his voice soft and patient, "sometimes adults sleep close to each other because they care about each other, but that doesn't always mean a baby is coming. Mommy and I were just resting together because we were tired." He looked at you, silently hoping his explanation was adequate and wouldn't prompt more difficult questions from your inquisitive daughter.

Nari's lower lip trembled as she crossed her arms, a pout forming on her face. Her eyes, wide with disappointment, looked up at both of you imploringly. "But I want a baby brother," she insisted, her voice taking on a whiny tone that tugged at your heartstrings. "Mommy's big and Uncle's big so can you make me one now?" Her innocent request, born out of a child's simple desire for a playmate, only served to heighten the awkwardness of the situation.

You felt your face grow even hotter if that was possible. Glancing at Jongho, you saw his eyes widen in panic, mirroring your own feelings of discomfort and uncertainty. "Having a baby is a very big decision that grown-ups make after a lot of thought and planning. It's not something we can just do right now because you want it." Jongho spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully to ensure Nari could understand without opening the door to more complicated questions.

You nodded in agreement, adding, "That's right, little one. And remember, Uncle and I aren't... we don't..." you trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words to explain the complexities of adult relationships to a child. The situation felt like navigating a minefield, each word potentially leading to more confusion or misunderstanding.

Jongho jumped in to help, sensing your difficulty. "Mommy and I care about each other very much, but we're not together in the way that people are when they decide to have a baby. Do you understand?" His voice was gentle but firm, trying to convey the message in a way that would make sense to Nari's young mind.

Nari's pout deepened, her eyes filling with tears that threatened to spill over. The disappointment was evident on her face as she processed the information. "But I want a brother," she sniffled, her voice small and filled with sadness. The sight of her distress tugged at both your hearts, making the situation even more challenging to navigate.

You pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair gently, you spoke in a soothing tone, "I know, angel. I understand you want someone to play with. But for now, how about we focus on all the fun things we can do together? Just the three of us?" You hoped that redirecting her attention might help ease her disappointment and change the subject to something more positive.

Jongho reached out, gently patting Nari's back in a show of support. "That's right," he added, "How about we start with a special breakfast? Would you like that?" He glanced at you, silently communicating his hope that this suggestion might successfully divert Nari's attention from the sensitive topic at hand.

The little girl's face brightened slightly at the mention of food, her earlier disappointment momentarily forgotten. She looked up, her eyes still a bit watery but now sparkling with a hint of excitement. "Can we have pancakes again?" she asked, her voice hopeful and eager. The simple question was a welcome reprieve from the previous conversation, offering a way out of the awkward situation.

You and Jongho shared a relieved look over Nari's head, both grateful for the change of subject. "Pancakes sound perfect," you said, your voice filled with enthusiasm to match Nari's renewed excitement.

You looked at Jongho as he took Nari in his arms and rose from the sofa. "Ready to make some delicious pancakes again with me, princess?" he asked, his voice warm and playful. Nari's face lit up with excitement, her earlier disappointment completely forgotten. The sight of Jongho with Nari in his arms, heading to the kitchen with such ease and familiarity, stirred something in your heart. It was a bittersweet feeling - joy at seeing their bond grow stronger, coupled with a lingering sense of what could have been.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Jongho's gentle voice. "Y/N? If you want to, you can go and take a shower. We'll prepare breakfast for you. Right, princess?" he said, looking down at Nari with a warm smile.

Nari nodded enthusiastically, "Yes! We'll make the best pancakes ever for Mommy!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm. "That sounds wonderful," you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude for this moment of normalcy amidst the complex emotions swirling within you. "I'll go freshen up then. Thank you."

As you headed towards the bathroom, you could hear Nari's excited chatter and Jongho's patient responses fading into the kitchen. The domesticity of the scene both warmed your heart and made it ache, a reminder of the delicate balance you were all trying to maintain. In the shower, you let the warm water wash over you, trying to clear your mind of the conflicting emotions. The morning's events played on repeat in your head - Nari's innocent questions, the awkward explanations, and the undeniable comfort you felt waking up next to Jongho. You stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. right before walking out of the bathroom, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day ahead.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤThe smell of pancakes wafted through the air as you opened the door, "The breakfast smells delicious," you said as you walked back to the living room, drying your hair with a small towel. "I can take it from here," you smiled at Jongho. "Maybe you'd like to freshen up a bit too?" you asked.

Jongho looked up from the pancake he was flipping, "I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

You hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting him to stay and knowing it might complicate things further. "You're not overstaying," you assured him softly. "Besides, Nari would love to have you here a bit longer." You paused, then added with a small smile, "And so would I."

Jongho's eyes widened in surprise at your words, and he quickly looked down, feeling heat creeping up his neck. The spatula in his hand trembled slightly as he tried to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, attempting to find the right words to respond. "I... I appreciate that," he managed to say, his voice slightly husky. He risked a glance back at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away again. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken emotions.

Nari's voice suddenly piped up from the kitchen, breaking the tension. "Uncle, is the pancake ready yet?" Her question brought both of you back to reality, Jongho cleared his throat again, this time more decisively. "I think I'll take you up on that offer to freshen up," he said, his voice steadier now. "Could you watch the pancakes for a moment?"

"Yes, just give me a second," you said, taking a few steps toward your closet. You weren't entirely sure how Jongho would react, but you felt compelled to retrieve something that had been tucked away for years. With slightly trembling hands, you rummaged through the lower drawers, searching for a box that had been left forgotten, yet one that you couldn't bring yourself to discard. It was a big, unassuming container, but it held within it a treasure of memories. You opened it carefully, as if handling a delicate artifact, and gently took out a few items of clothing, each one carrying the weight of shared history. Standing back up, you felt Jongho's eyes on you. You turned to face him, holding up a pair of grey sweatpant shorts and a dark green hoodie with a shy, tentative smile. These weren't just any clothes; they were remnants of a time when your lives were intertwined in the most intimate of ways. Jongho used to have his own drawer in your room when you were still together, a small but significant symbol of your shared life. You remembered with a pang of nostalgia how you'd wear his clothes while pregnant, finding comfort in his scent and the way the fabric draped over your changing body. These particular items were the clothes he had left behind five years ago, you had kept them all this time, unable to part with this tangible connection to your past. "I thought... maybe these might fit you," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper and tinged with a complex mixture of nostalgia, uncertainty, and a hint of hope. The words hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken emotions and shared memories. "They're yours from... before," you continued, your voice catching slightly on the word 'before', as if it encompassed an entire world of experiences and feelings. "I hope you don't mind that I kept them," you added, your eyes searching his face for any sign of how he might be feeling. The simple act of offering these clothes felt monumental, as if you were extending not just fabric, but a piece of your shared history, a tentative bridge across the years that had separated you.

Jongho's eyes widened as he recognized the clothes, a flicker of emotion passing across his face. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against the fabric as if touching a cherished memory. "You... you kept these?" he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. The air between you seemed to hum with unspoken words and shared history as he gently took the clothes from your hands. For a moment, Jongho stood there, holding the clothes close to his chest, his eyes distant as if lost in memories. Then, with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked back at you. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I appreciate this more than you know." Jongho's fingers lingered on the fabric as if trying to absorb the memories it held. With a deep breath, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours with gratitude "I'll go shower then," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs Jongho emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in the clothes you had given him, the enticing aroma of freshly made pancakes wafted through the air, filling the apartment with a comforting warmth. You and Nari had already set the table, a towering stack of golden, fluffy pancakes sitting invitingly in the center, accompanied by an array of toppings and syrups.

"Perfect timing," you said with a welcoming smile, gesturing for him to join you at the table. The sight of Jongho in his old clothes, now slightly snug on his more muscular frame, stirred a mix of nostalgia and something else you couldn't quite name.

As you all settled in to eat, Nari dominated the conversation with her animated chatter, regaling you both with a seemingly endless stream of stories from her preschool adventures. Her infectious enthusiasm filled the room, punctuated by giggles and dramatic gestures as she recounted tales of finger-painting mishaps and playground conquests. You and Jongho exchanged amused glances over her head, your shared laughter creating a bubble of warmth around the table. The atmosphere was cozy and comfortable, yet tinged with the bittersweet awareness of its temporary nature.

The meal drew to a close, with plates nearly empty and bellies satisfyingly full. Jongho glanced at his watch, a hint of reluctance clouding his eyes. "I should probably get going," he said softly, his gaze flicking between you and Nari as if torn between duty and desire.

Nari's face immediately fell, her earlier joy evaporating like morning mist. Her lower lip jutted out in a heart-wrenching pout, her eyes widening to impossibly large proportions. "But Uncle," she pleaded, her voice small and trembling, "can't you stay longer? Please?" Her imploring gaze darted between Jongho and you, silently begging for intervention, her little hands clasping together as if in prayer.

Jongho's expression softened at Nari's plea, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "I promise I'll be back soon, sweetheart," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "And you know what? I have an even better idea. How about we plan a special day with all the uncles? We could go to the park, and have a picnic. What do you think about that?"

"Really? All the uncles?" she asked, her voice rising with each word, filled with a mixture of hope and barely contained enthusiasm.

Jongho nodded, "Absolutely," he affirmed, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair. "We'll make it a day to remember. But for now, I need to head out. Can you be my brave little princess and give me a big hug goodbye?" Without hesitation, Nari launched herself into Jongho's arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with all the strength her little body could muster.

As Jongho gently disentangled himself from Nari's embrace, you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden flutter of nervousness in your chest. "Nari, sweetheart," you said softly, "why don't you go play in your room for a little while? Mommy needs to talk to Uncle for a moment before he leaves." Nari nodded obediently, her earlier excitement still evident in her bright eyes. She gave Jongho one last quick squeeze before scampering off to her room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Once Nari disappeared into her room, you turned to Jongho, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. "Let me walk you to the door," you said softly, gesturing towards the entryway. Jongho nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he followed your lead.

The short walk to the front door felt charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. As you reached the threshold, you both paused, Jongho turned to face you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Just as he was about to say goodbye, you reached out impulsively, your fingers gently encircling his wrist. He looked at you, surprise evident in his eyes, a question forming on his lips. You quickly pulled him outside, closing the door slightly to ensure Nari wouldn't hear.

Jongho looked at you questioningly, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Is everything alright?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the words you were about to say, words that had the power to change everything. "Jongho," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of your decision. "There's something important I need to tell you." You paused, gathering your courage, your hands shaking slightly as you met his gaze. "I... I've made a decision. I want Nari to know the truth. I want her to know that you're her dad." The words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications and unspoken emotions. You searched Jongho's face intently, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you waited for his reaction. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity as you stood on the precipice of change, the future of your little family balanced precariously on the edge of this moment.

Jongho's eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face in rapid succession - surprise, disbelief, hope. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, as if frozen in time, processing your words. Then, slowly, he spoke, "Are you absolutely sure about this? I don't want to rush into anything if you're not completely ready. This is... this is a big step."

"No," you interjected quickly, not allowing him to finish his thought. Your voice grew stronger, more resolute with each word. "I'm certain about this. I want her to know the truth. You deserve to be recognized as her dad, to hear her call you 'Daddy.' I want this for her, for you... for us." Your eyes darted across his face, drinking in every nuance of his expression, your voice softening as you added, "That is... if it's what you want too?" The silence that followed was electric, you could hear your heart thundering in your ears, and feel the rush of blood in your veins as you waited for Jongho's response.

In this moment, the future of your unconventional family hung in the balance, poised on the edge of transformation.

Suddenly, Jongho's face broke into a radiant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and lighting up with unbridled joy. A soft, melodious laugh escaped his lips, dispelling the tension that had built between you. "God, of course, I want this," he exclaimed, his voice brimming with emotion and barely contained excitement. "You have no idea how much I want it." His hands reached out, gently grasping yours, his touch sending a familiar tingle through your body, awakening memories and feelings long buried. Without warning, Jongho pulled you closer, enveloping you in a warm embrace. The scent of him surrounded you, bringing with it a rush of nostalgia and comfort. Without giving it a second thought, your lips found Jongho's in a tender, hesitant kiss. Your arms wound around his neck of their own, pulling him closer as his hands settled on your waist, holding you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. It started soft, a gentle exploration of forgotten territory. But quickly, the kiss deepened, years of pent-up emotions and unspoken feelings surging to the surface.

Lost in the rush of feelings, you didn't hear someone walking up until you heard slow clapping. The sound, at first barely noticeable, got louder, breaking the moment you were sharing. Your bodies separated as if shocked. As you turned towards the source of the interruption, your eyes fell upon Hyunwoo standing in the hallway, his expression shifted rapidly - shock, hurt, betrayal, and finally settling on a mixture of disbelief and resignation. His eyes, wide with surprise, darted between you and Jongho as if trying to piece together a puzzle he never wanted to solve. The slow clapping, which had initially seemed almost comical, now took on a bitter, almost sarcastic tone. Each clap echoed in the hallway, punctuating the heavy silence that had fallen over the three of you. As the reality of the situation sank in, Hyunwoo's posture changed. His shoulders, usually held high with confidence, seemed to slump under the weight of what he had witnessed. His hands fell limply to his sides, fingers curling into tight fists. The muscles in his jaw worked silently as if he were physically chewing on the words he wanted to say but couldn't quite bring himself to voice.

When Hyunwoo finally spoke, his voice was strained, barely concealing the turbulent emotions bubbling beneath the surface. Each word seemed to cost him great effort as if he were forcing them past a lump in his throat. "Well," he began, his tone a brittle attempt at nonchalance, "isn't this a touching scene." The sarcasm in his voice was palpable, a thin veneer barely masking the hurt that lay beneath. His gaze held a coldness that sent a shiver down your spine. Hyunwoo's voice dropped to a low, bitter whisper, his eyes clouding with a mixture of pain and resignation. "Lovers reunited after years," he said, the words dripping with sarcasm and hurt. "How could I even stand a chance?" A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, the sound hollow "How foolish of me to think that I stood a chance at all."

The hallway suddenly felt too small, too confining.

Hyunwoo's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with venom. "Have fun with your idol boyfriend," he spat, his words laced with bitterness. "But let me know once he leaves you again." He paused, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Hopefully without a second baby on the way this time."

The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Jongho's body tensed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. In an instant, the warmth in his eyes was replaced by a fiery rage. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You fucking piece of shit," he snarled, his usually gentle demeanor completely gone. "You don't know shit about our situation. How fucking dare you speak to her like that? Who the fuck do you think you are?" His chest heaved with barely contained fury as he continued, spittle flying from his mouth, "I may have fucked up in the past, but I'm here now, I'm fighting for my goddamn family. And I won't let anyone, especially not a pathetic loser like you, disrespect Y/N or my daughter."

"Jongho, please..." you pleaded, placing your hand on his chest in an attempt to stop him from lunging at Hyunwoo. But your efforts were in vain; he was too strong, too enraged. In a flash, Jongho flew across the hallway, his hands reaching out to grab Hyunwoo.

Hyunwoo's expression shifted from anger to a cold, calculated smirk. "I wouldn't recommend that... at least not if you don't want me to give a call to one of those gossip websites," he threatened, his voice dripping with malice.

"You wouldn't!" you exclaimed, feeling your own nerves fraying at the edges. The situation was spiraling out of control, and you felt powerless to stop it. Desperately, you turned to Hyunwoo, your voice pleading. "Hyunwoo, please calm down." The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood there, caught between the two men, your heart racing as you desperately tried to think of a way to defuse the situation before it escalated any further.

Hyunwoo's face contorted with rage, his eyes blazing with a mixture of hurt and fury. "You think you can just waltz back into their lives and play happy families?" he snarled, "Where the fuck were you all these years, huh? Living it up while Y/N struggled to raise your kid alone?"

Jongho's jaw clenched, his muscles visibly tightening beneath his hoodie as he shifted his stance, getting ready for a possible fight. His eyes, usually warm and gentle, now blazed with an intensity that could melt steel. "You don't know anything about our situation," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, each word dripping with barely contained fury. The air around him seemed to crackle with tension, his entire being radiating a palpable anger that threatened to explode at any moment.

Hyunwoo let out a bitter laugh that echoed harshly. His face contorted into a mask of disgust and resentment as he spat out his next words. "I know more than enough, you piece of shit. You're nothing but a selfish, spineless coward who abandoned a girl who loved you beyond reason. She was young, terrified, and completely alone, yet she chose to keep your baby. And where were you? Living it up as an idol, basking in the spotlight while she struggled through sleepless nights and endless worries. You don't deserve them, you pathetic excuse for a man. You don't deserve an ounce of their love or forgiveness!"

Both men stood their ground, bodies coiled like springs ready to unleash at the slightest provocation. Their heated exchange hung in the air like a powder keg, threatening to ignite into a full-blown physical confrontation at any moment.

"Y/N, please step back," Jongho whispered urgently, his eyes locked on Hyunwoo's face.

"Absolutely not!" you exclaimed. With swift, purposeful strides, you positioned yourself between the two men, your heart thundering in your chest. Adrenaline surged through your body as you extended your arms, palms facing outward towards each of them, creating a physical barrier. "Both of you, stop this immediately!" you demanded, your voice quavering but resolute. "This is pointless! We need to approach this situation rationally and discuss it like adults." Your eyes darted between them, silently pleading for reason to prevail. Turning to Hyunwoo, your gaze softened with empathy. "Hyunwoo, please," you implored, "This isn't you. I know you're hurting, but this isn't the way."

Shifting your attention to Jongho, your expression became more stern. "And Jongho," you said, your tone leaving no room for argument, "remember who you are and what's at stake here. Think about Nari, think about your career. Is this really how you want to handle this situation?"

The hallway fell silent, both men stood frozen, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they struggled to contain their anger. You remained steadfast between them, your posture unwavering, a living shield determined to prevent any further escalation. The weight of the moment pressed down on all three of you, each second stretching into eternity as you waited to see if reason would finally prevail over raw emotion.

Jongho took a step back, his fists still clenched. Under his breath, he muttered a string of profanities, his voice low and seething with anger. "Fucking asshole... piece of shit... who does he think he is..."

Suddenly, without warning, Hyunwoo lunged forward. His fist connected with Jongho's jaw with a sickening crack, the impact echoing through the hallway. Jongho stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sudden assault, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

You gasped, horrified by the sudden turn of events. "Stop it!" you screamed, your voice shrill with panic. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you watched Jongho recover from the initial shock. His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them as he wiped a trickle of blood from his split lip.

"I won't disrespect Y/N like that, I won't fight with you for her to see, and..." Jongho paused, his voice low and controlled despite the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "Funny how you supposedly wanted to take my place in Nari's life but you don't have any respect for her mother." The hallway fell silent as the weight of his statement settled over you all. Hyunwoo's face contorted, a mix of emotions flashing across his features - anger, shame, and finally, a flicker of realization. The fight seemed to drain out of him, his shoulders slumping as the weight of Jongho's words sank in. He took a step back, his eyes darting between you and Jongho, as if seeing the situation clearly for the first time. "You are not a man, Hyunwoo," Jongho continued, his voice low and controlled. "And let me repeat this again, as I did yesterday: I don't want you near my daughter." With that, Jongho turned away from Hyunwoo and walked towards the elevators.

"Jongho, wait!" you called out, your voice cracking with desperation.

Jongho paused, his hand hovering over the elevator button. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. "Y/N, I'm sorry," he began, his voice low and strained. "But... I really need to go. This... it's too much right now." His eyes, usually warm and inviting, now held a storm of conflicting emotions. "Please understand." You watched helplessly as Jongho stepped into the elevator, his gaze never leaving yours until the doors slowly closed between you. The soft ding of the elevator's descent echoed in the now-silent hallway, leaving you alone with Hyunwoo and the heavy aftermath of the confrontation. Turning to face him, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. His earlier words still stung, sharp, and painful in your memory. But the sight of him now, deflated and ashamed, stirred a complex mix of pity, frustration, and lingering hurt in your chest. His usual confident demeanor had crumbled, replaced by a man who looked lost and regretful. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your scattered thoughts and decide how to address the mess that had unfolded before you.

"Y/N, I—" Hyunwoo began, too soon for your liking, his voice faltering. His eyes darted around, unable to meet your gaze. He opened his mouth again as if to continue, but no words came out. The silence stretched between you, filled with all the things left unsaid.

"I need you to leave," you said firmly, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside you. You turned your back to him, unable to bear the sight of his remorse any longer. Without waiting for a response, you walked back into your apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door closed behind you with a soft click, finally separating you from the chaos in the hallway.

As you leaned against the closed door, you let out a shaky breath that seemed to come from the very depths of your being. The events of the past few minutes replayed in your mind like a relentless film reel, each scene more draining than the last. You felt anger at Hyunwoo's words, worry for Jongho, concern for how this would affect Nari, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that seemed to seep into your very bones. You knew you'd have to deal with the aftermath of this confrontation eventually - there were conversations to be had, explanations to be given, and decisions to be made. But for now, all you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your scattered thoughts and tumultuous emotions.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│♡

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

The Emmrich brainrot continues, and do I ever have plans. Iris and Emmrich will be attending a ball in the Necropolis because I could not resist the siren song of them dancing together. (...or the idea of them later sneaking off into the Memorial Gardens for some--alone time.) ;) As for now, this is not spicy, but I do plan on turning up the heat later. For now, enjoy the intro...

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @dirty-bosmer @hircines-hunter @hannah-heartstrings @skyrim-forever

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @firefly-factory @umbracirrus @theoneandonlysemla @illumiera

@pocket-vvardvark @vivifriend

“What do you think, Manfred? Is it too much?” Iris turns, looking over herself in the mirror in front of her, as she smooths down the velvet and lace of the dress she wears. How was it that she had Neve talk her into putting this thing on. It’s far too—

Hissss. The skeleton almost sounds pleased, or at least as pleased as the undead can, as he rocks on his toes, the tea set in his hands clattering precariously.

“I told you already, Iris. You look lovely. All you have to do is have confidence and walk with your shoulders back, head held high.” Neve walks over to her and pokes between her exposed shoulder blades to make her point. “The Necropolis won’t know what hit them.”

“I’m not trying to impress them. I—”

“Well then, Emmrich.” The hint of a teasing smile curls her lips. “Send him to an early grave, so to speak, of course.”

“I—”

Words are not needed, as a single glance from the detective tells her she shouldn’t even try to deny what she knows. Or rather what the whole of the Lighthouse knows. While their relationship is still new, both she and Emmrich have been dancing around each other for weeks. This is only the unnecessary confirmation the rest of them needed—that he would ask her to the Necromancer’s Ball.

For the third time, Iris picks at the edge of the fine lace lining the almost scandalous neckline of the dress that she is in.

“Stop picking at it or you’ll ruin it.” Neve smacks her arm lightly with a chuckle. 

“It’s just that I have never worn something like this before, and I’ll be going home, and I’m not entirely sure this is proper, and—”

“It’s more than proper, and you look beautiful, Iris.” Bellara nods her head enthusiastically. “You look like a proper,” she puts a finger to her lips in thought, “queen of the dead. Like from one of the serials I read.” She sighs.

Iris smiles at her friend as she laughs lightly. “Thank you, Bellara, but the only thing I’ll be queen of is all the eyes which will stare at me—at us.” She throws her up to her face, being careful not to smudge all of the hard work her friends did on her makeup. She’s certain Neve would never let her head the end of it.

“Let them stare, and let them be jealous. Isn’t that right, Fred?” Neve inclines her head towards him.

Hissss. The tea set clatters again before the detective takes it.

“See? Even your skeleton son agrees with me. Now go and have fun.”

[dirty-bosmer]

2024 Wrap Up

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2024. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by @sylvienerevarine @darcxaosit @inkysqueed @skyrim-forever @hannah-heartstrings @arnaerr Thank you everyone! It was so nice to see what wonderful stories and artwork everyone has been working on this year <3

I have been having a wild (but fun) holiday season and have not been online as much. Hopefully I didn't miss anyone who tagged me already!

The Illusionist: Passion, Purpose, and Penance — part 2 of my oblivion novelization. This fic is centered on my HoK and her descent into the Dark Brotherhood. I started it five years ago as a creative outlet from the stress of grad school and FINALLY finished it this past summer. Very dear to me.

Beyond the Break — My Mathieu Bellamont fic that is 100% angst. I love him as a villain and wanted to explore his psyche from a more sympathetic perspective while not shying away from the whole obsessed, deranged, murderer part lol. It's pretty dark.

Another Night in Bravil: Lucien Lahcance/Silencer filth 😅 It takes place in a post-applewatch, Lucien as Listener AU where the HoK|Silencer is also mantling Sheogorath. Neither know what to do about their new roles or how to move-on from their recent loss, so they get really weird about it.

Slither and Writhe: My Skyrim fic about my disaster, cringefail necromancer Sylawen. Added a couple chapters to this one, and I'm really excited to dig further into the chaos of it in 2025

I took up digital art in 2024! I have so much to learn, but I love it :)

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @elavoria @thequeenofthewinter @wispstalk @miraakulous-cloud-district @ladytanithia @saltymaplesyrup (Sorry if you already did this and I didn't see it!)

And happy new year 🎉🥳🎉

[babyblueetbaemonster]

2024 Wrap Up

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought to the world in 2024. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by beloved @hannah-heartstrings 🩷 Thank you for tagging me :D

Tagging @the-sunlit-earth, @apollinariafh, @thescrolls-haveforetold, @wispstalk, @everybodyknows-everybodydies, @devilrose, @elavoria, @blackmetalsnake, @ijiwaruuma, @m439, @truth-01001001-liar, @falmerbrook, @sylvienerevarine, and anyone who wants to do a wrap up :D No pressure ofc

This year I've brought you all:

The Tumblr Mushroom post

Wizard Pondering his Orb (bonus: I yassify the mer)

Haskill flashing kitty

Acelta with cool shadow

The boys doing War Paint™

Next year? Who knows? Probably still memes XD

Thank you all for being here and wish you all have a wonderful 2025 🎉🎉🎉

[druidx]

if you receive this, you make somebody happy! if you want you can send this message to some of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. if you get one back, even better! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° (But no pressure! ^^)

🌷🪻🩷🌻🌷

Aww TY Han ^.^ Right back atcha, cariad.

[katastronoot]

WIP Wednesday

But wait! It’s Friday *sighs* I never do these on time.

A little commissioned piece I’m working on :)

Tagged by @hannah-heartstrings

[inkoherentwriting]

WIP WEDNESDAY 11/13/24

(I actually have a couple of ill-fated wip wednesdays in my drafts that I forgot but for now I'll focus on the present instead)

here i am! Let's go and see if i can format these tags "properly" this time! as always tags are merely a suggestion; if you don't feel like participating there's no penalty! I understand not having energy and what not <3 (conversely, always feel free to say I tagged you even if you're not on this list!)

tagging: @priafey @avantegarda @hannah-heartstrings @dirty-bosmer (for next time >:] mwahahahaha) @druidx

@thescrolls-haveforetold @azures-grace @thequeenofthewinter @apolline-lucy

the wip below was for day 5 of tes fest but i. as usual. got behind. maybe i'll publish it on it's own (though... are you allowed to post tes fest fics superbly late to the collection???)

I told myself that sitting alone in complete darkness did not bother me because I am an Argonian. Argonians are of the Hist-- as my mother told me from a young age. The Hist is like one massive tree that connects to each and every Argonian; therefore, I was currently being a root of the Hist rather than one of its leaves or branches. Every tree keeps its roots in total darkness for as long as it lives. I told myself this situation would turn out fine and that my mother would inevitably notice I had yet to return home. Tree roots would not let such simple things as being held captive bother them anyway, right? But these indistinguishable noises-- some which almost seemed to be voices-- that were scattered throughout my hearing made the prospect of sitting still very unsettling for me. It was worse with this metal cage keeping me trapped in one little section of Hackdirt’s cavernous underbelly. Awful, awful Hackdirt.

[emeraldhazeart]

if you receive this, you make somebody happy! if you want you can send this message to some of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. if you get one back, even better! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Back at you, friend! :D

Thank you 💚

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Wrong Turn but a Right Deed

CW: Single graphic depiction of a child's death This... is maybe not what anyone was expecting - least of all me. Triggered by this post by @groundrootvegetable. Tagging @hannah-heartstrings and @wispstalk as they expressed interest.

When Martin and his Hero leave Kvatch, it's by way of the sandy heathland at the city's back. It's safer, says the hero; the only dangers are desperate wolves come down from the Highlands. They walk for three days, meeting resistance neither from bandits, animals or terrain. It is only as they crest a small rise, the land falling away in a dramatic sweep and a salt-air breeze rising to meet them, that they realise something is amiss. Martin purses his lips. "Either Lake Rumare is significantly larger than I recall, or we have taken a wrong turn…" The Hero simply curses the Abecean's merry little waves.

Since they're here, Martin suggests going into Anvil. The Hero isn't happy about it, but supplies are needed. With Matius' cuirass rolled in the Hero's pack, they'll simply be a pair of refugees. The hazy mist burns away as they make their way down the cliffs, revealing a sky as clear and empty as the azure Abecean. Despite it being the end of summer, the air warms quickly around them, as if the Gold Coast hasn't quite gotten notice of the changing season. They trudge on with increasing stickiness, halting only when the lighthouse hoves into view.

The sands between them swarm with people. There's laughter and singing and sounds of splashing in the air. In the warm waters, older children frolic while elders swim sedately. On the beach, men play-wrestle and race while women help young ones shape the wet sands into crenelated forts. Their liveliness is incongruous with the horrors Hero and Priest have just witnessed. Both stand, dumbstruck, until a gull's harsh call prompts the Hero into action.

The Hero, eyes intent and wide, says, "You should wait here. There's too many people. We can't risk someone spotting you and commenting on it around the wrong ears." Martin ducks his chin, a pallor under the ruddy glow of his cheeks. "Here." The Hero manoeuvres him around the side of a boulder. "Sit here. You won't be visible, but you can see down the beach both ways. Don't talk to anyone. If you see someone approaching that doesn't look right, you run and hide nearby. I will find you." Martin nods dumbly, siting where he's told, eyes glazed. "And Brother Martin?" His focus snaps back to his Hero, unlooping some trinket from around their neck. "I will come back," the Hero says, pressing the trinket into his hand. Then, just like that, the Hero is gone. Ownerless footprints track away from him and there is nothing for him to do but settle back, watching the people of Anvil frolic from behind his stone barrier.

He's so engrossed with his watch, that Martin starts with surprise when, sometime later, a purple leather ball bounces along the sand, rolling to a stop on his side of the boulder. High voices call out and a child of around ten summers comes trotting after the ball. Lithe but short, dark hair and dark skin, he instantly reminds Martin of a child in the Kvatch congregation. "Hi," the boy grins. Martin's gore rises as he recalls finding his parishioner cloven in two, mere paces from his home. The boy frowns. "You okay there, mister?" Abruptly, Martin realises what he must look like, with blood smeared over his cassock. Heavens' forfend! – what he must smell like. "Yes. Thank you. I… was… helping deliver a child at one of the farmsteads." He smiles. "A healthy little girl. I'm afraid I may have dozed off on my way back to chapel." "Okay," the boy says.

He scampers off with his ball, and Martin thinks that will be the end of it. But no; the boy returns shortly with a flask. Shly, he holds it out. "It's Aloe and Watermelon. Nice and refreshing." Martin finds he has to blink several times before he can take it, his vision suddenly hazy. "Thank you, my child," he says, voice thick. "This is most kind of you." The drink is indeed sweet and refreshing – perhaps the best thing Martin has ever tasted. "S'alright," the boy says, kicking his heel. "Mam says you should always offer a hand to them as looks like they needs it. And you…" He goes shy again, waving a hand to complete his point. "Your mother is very wise, and raising a good son." Martin passes the flask back as the boy ducks his chin, colour rising in his cheeks. "Thanks. And, hey." The boy's head shoots back up with another grin. "If you need any help getting home, ours is the yellow and purple parasol. Just come ask for Lazarus."