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harrysfolklore · 3 days

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growing family - verstappen!yn

pairing: verstappen!yn x boyfriend!charles, best fiend!oscar x verstappen!yn

verstappen!yn smau | masterlist | my patreon

You hummed along to the music coming from the speakers of your boyfriend's Monaco home as you stirred some pasta sauce for dinner.

Despite being to Monaco countless of times before, there was something different about being there with Charles for his home race week.

You enjoyed being alone in his apartment while he ran some errands or spent some time training, you felt at home and the company of Leo, the puppy you adopted together made everything better.

However, your time to yourself cooking dinner for you and your boyfriend was interrupted by your phone ringing.

oscar pastry 🥐 FaceTime Video

Frowning because you weren't quite expecting a call from your best friend, you answered.

"Hello mum," he said once his face popped up on screen.

"Mum?" you asked confused, "What are you even talking about?"

"Have you not seen twitter? I'm your kid now, Charles adopted me," he shrugged, "Where's my brother Leo?"

"Oscar are you drunk or something," you laughed at your best friend, "I haven't been on twitter since like, last year."

"Well log in, dumbass," he rolled his eyes and you flipped him off, "Hey! That's not the way to treat your son."

"Gosh stop saying that, we've been best friends since we were 15 it's weird," you shook your head as you opened the twitter app, luckily you weren't logged out because you certainly didn't remember your password.

And the first thing you saw pop up in your timeline was the banter between your boyfriend and your best friend.

"You guys are so annoying," you threw your head back in laughter as you read the tweets, "And you're both serious about it too."

"Of course, I'm a Leclerc-Verstappen now," he laughed along, "Shit, does that make Max my uncle?"

"It does," your eyes widened, "Are you sure you want that?"

"Well I wanted you guys to adopt me so you give me back the attention your boyfriend stole from me, I never consider Max would become my uncle," he teased, making you laugh.

"Come on pastry, we've talked about this," you gave him a serious look, "You'll always be my best friend and me being with Charles now would never change that."

"I know, I'm just messing around," a small smile played on his face, "You guys seem so happy and I love that for you."

As if on cue, you heard the front door open and your boyfriend's voice calling for you, Leo instantly barking and running to the door when he noticed his presence.

"Mon ange, I'm back," he said as he entered the kitchen, Leo cradled on his arm, "Missed you."

He pulled you closer y the waist and kissed the side of your head, making you smile and lean into him.

"Yikes, I didn't need to see that," Oscar's voice was heard from the phone screen, making you laugh.

"Oh hey son," Charles said to him, "How's my new favorite adopted child doing?"

"Hey dad, just calling to check in on my amazing parents and my little brother," he said, glancing at Leo who was now comfortably settled in Charles' arms.

"This is so weird, stop it," you cringed, making both of them laugh and Charles pull you to him again as you covered your face.

"We're a big happy family, mon amour. Ollie, Leo and now Oscar, the Leclerc-Verstappen family."

You smiled at him, pecking his lips a couple of times.

"Okay that's my cue, I don't want to see you guys making out," Oscar said shaking his head, "Good night, mum and dad, see you this weekend."

"Say bye to your brother too," Charles said, moving Leo closer to the camera.

"Bye Leo!"

As Oscar hung up, you couldn't help but laugh at the entire interaction, "So he's our son now?"

"Yes, and he seems to be enjoying it a lot," Charles chuckled, setting Leo down on the floor, "Who would've thought we'd have an adopted son before getting married or having our own kids?"

"Don't get any ideas, Leclerc," you playfully swatted his chest, "We're not adopting every one of my friends who jokes about it."

"Why not? We could build a whole team," Charles teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing it chastely, "We'd be the coolest family ever."

"It's your secret plan to make everyone on the grid your family? Dating Max's sister and now adopting Oscar, you're something else, Leclerc."

Charles laughed loudly at your words, throwing his head back and making you laugh along.

"Well, what can I say," he shrugged, "I'm charming and people love me."

"That you are," you smiled, kissing him gently.

That you are," you smiled, kissing him gently.

"Now, let me help with dinner," Charles offered, moving to the stove and checking the sauce. "It smells amazing, just like you."

"Smooth talker," you teased, handing him a spoon to stir. "Just make sure it doesn’t burn."

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slvttyplum · 19 hours

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easy access was suguru's thing; he loved to just slide his hand in your pants or lift up your skirt and have your bare ass shown. not only was it great for when you looked a little too good that he couldn't resist, but it was just sexy when you wore no panties, like you were telling him to fuck you, which you were.

there was something a little different from sliding your panties to the side and him just sliding himself in; when he just slid himself in, it felt better because you got wetter that way, at least that's what he thought. you were only that wet, practically dripping down your thigh because you knew he would take the bait; it was like putting his favorite treat out; he was going to take it every time.

he was extremely observant when it came to you; he noticed everything you did, down to your mannerisms, which he would mirror subconsciously, so you knew that his eyes would burn through your clothes when he noticed you weren't wearing any panties, his mouth watering instantly.

of course, you didn't intentionally not wear panties all the time; sometimes you just wanted a break for them, but suguru didn't know nor did he care about any of that. if he saw your bare ass, his dick were standing tall. he was like a teenage boy who couldn't control his hormones when it came to you.

even when you told him to give it a rest, he'd pout and just ask you if he could eat you out. with his dick as hard as a rock and cum leaking from his tip, it was pathetic but so fucking sexy.

"please, baby, just give me five minutes." while already getting on his knees, inching closer to your wet core. if he saw an opening, he was going to take it. he used his opportunities, and all you could do was applaud him for his consistency but curse at yourself for still continuing not to wear panties.

you only wore no panties initially when you actually wanted to draw him in, and his dick stretched you out—not him sliding against you in the kitchen one second, and the next he's bending you over and slamming himself against you, and his dick pushing deep inside of you.

"you should stay naked; that'll be better." with that cute smile on his face, joking, but deep down you knew it wasn't a joke; he wanted you pantieless all the time; it was actually insane. asking you not to wear panties when you both went out just in case anything happened. you didn't know whether to be impressed or freaked out, but he never disappointed you when he fucked.

he made up for the soft words he would use when whispering and begging in your ear while filling your pussy out and making the ten minutes he had you bent over worth it.

one thing he really loved was finding you bent down and noticing that you didn't have any panties on, a hue of dark red coating his cheeks, and his hands going straight for his dick that was standing at attention just for you. his hand on your ass as you let out a sigh, but not from annoyance but at the fact that he already fucked you; he couldn't help it, but could you blame him?

you hated to admit it, but if he walked around with no briefs on, you would be on him twenty-four seven, and your throat would be hurting from how much you deepthroat him throughout the day, but that's another story for another day... literally.

all you could do was keep your panties on, but suguru will always find a way to slide them off.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #x reader #jjk suguru #jjk geto #suguru geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #geto smut #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #getosuguru #geto

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erwinsvow · 2 days

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what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

#this was hard to write :(#but i hope i did your prompt justice #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader #tw abuse #tw dv

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httpswritings · 2 days

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jealous girl

alexia putellas x reader [+ jana fernandez]; around 900 words; not really angst, just reader being dumb about jana and alexia's friendship.

You were not a jealous girl, not at all, because you thought jealousy was nothing but a waste of time.

As a family member, as a friend and as a girlfriend, you were very easygoing with the people you loved.

That's why when you felt an unfamiliar envious sensation when it came to Alexia's friendship with Jana, you felt quite lost.

Alexia was very dear to you.

She had been your football “big” sister since you were very young, always making sure you were alright.

You were such a talented girl, always playing at an advanced level compared to girls your age, like Jana, Pina, and Bruna."

That's why you had always been so close with Alexia.

There weren't any girls' your age around, and she felt very comfortable to be with.

The time passed by, and you weren't the youngest one in the team anymore.

It took you some time to adjust, but nothing to worry about.

Jana was a very happy and loving girl.

She was very talkative and always willing to help anyone.

That's why you were deeply upset with yourself for feeling such a horrible emotion towards someone like Jana.

Alexia noticed something was off with you, but she couldn't get you to speak about it.

She didn't insist anymore and hugged you.

Her hugs were very comforting, and you felt like your eight-year-self after hugging her.

She was around when you fell playing and hurt your ankle.

Alexia rushed to hold you and shushed you until you calmed down.

Since that day, you created a very beautiful bond not only with her but with her family, including her sister Alba.

You thought that Alba could feel threatened because Alexia was giving you a lot of attention, but she was very excited to have you as a friend, even insisting Eli to half-adopt you when both of you were still young girls.

The days passed by, and it was very obvious that you were annoyed by something.

Alexia wanted to give you some space during training, so she paired up with Jana.

You were infuriated by her movement, the worst part being that you were behaving like a child, and not like a twenty two-year-old woman.

You paired up with Frido.

She was very sweet and patient, but you were getting on her nerves.

You excused yourself and headed to the changing room.

You had told Torre and Jona that you were going to leave early, and you'd catch up tomorrow.

Alexia realized you were missing, and she didn't waste time in pairing Jana with Frido.

You were on your way home when she began calling and messaging you.

Ale <3

Amor, is everything okay?

Ale <3

Torre told me you weren't feeling okay.

You felt awful for not responding to her, but it was better than telling her: It's actually because I'm jealous about my teammate because my best friend is not spending all her time with me.

Alexia went to your house and still got no response.

Ale <3

Please, open the door 🙁

Ale <3

I can take care of you if you're sick

Ale <3

I just want to know if you're alright

Ale <3

Please, I'm very worried 😔 😢😥

You smiled when you saw the emojis.

You loved to tease Alexia about the amount of emojis she would send.

You stood up and opened the door, and Alexia's face broke your heart.

Her eyes were teary and she was visibly upset.

“Tell me what's wrong, please.”

You hugged her and lost yourself in her arms.

She was the big sister you never had.

You never knew what sisterly love was until you met Alexia, and then Alba.

Did you overreact? Definitely.

You had to be a grownup, whatever was wrong with you was not an excuse to leave training early.

“You're going to laugh—”

“I'm won't. Please, tell me what's wrong.”

You sighed, prepared to be laughed at.

“I missed you. I've been very jealous of Jana because I've felt replaced. I know it's childish and embarrassing, but it's what it is.”

Instead, you received a punch on the arm, not too hard but enough to surprise you.

“Have you gone mad? I thought something had happened to you. Like I was prepared to fight anyone at this point.”

You couldn't look Alexia into her eyes.

Alexia, having calmed down, started to laugh as you tried to escape of her embrace.

“Alexia, fuck off. You told me you were not going to laugh.”

“I'm laughing because you're very adorable. I love Jana, but you're my best friend. Alba would kill me if she knew how you had been feeling.”

“Alexia, this is ridiculous. I'm supposed to be mature, at least a little bit.”

“For me, it's not ridiculous. I'd be fuming if you replaced me with someone else. I've told you before: you'll always be my little football sister. No matter if you're eight or fifty years old. There's nothing nor no one who will be able to change that.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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dixons-sunshine · 2 days

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The Importance Of Secret Keeping | Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader

Summary: When Rick brought in the former Woodbury residents, Daryl tried to stay away from them. However, a little girl had made him her unofficial best friend, and she revealed some pretty interesting things to him about you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: This isn't the best because I couldn't really focus while writing this, but I wanted to get this done. I hope you like this nonetheless!

“Daryl, are you a tree?” Hazel asked innocently, skipping alongside the archer who had just returned from his run.

Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise at the six year old's question. He sent a nod in Rick's direction, before extending his hand to the little girl to help her bound up the stairs that lead to the cell blocks.

“No, I ain't a tree,” Daryl replied to Hazel's question, pushing open the door that lead into the cell blocks.

“I didn't think so,” Hazel responded instantly, using her hand that held Daryl's to swing their arms in a childlike manner.

Daryl's lips twitched up into a small smile at the girl's antics, allowing her to swing his arm as they walked. “Then why'd ya ask, kiddo?”

“Because Mama said you have arms like tree trunks,” Hazel replied, before giggling and shaking her head. “Silly Mama. She thinks you're a tree. You should tell her you're not.”

Daryl's eyes widened in shock at Hazel's confession. He stopped in his tracks and withdrew his hand from the small girl's grip, making her turn around and look at Daryl in confusion.

“Daryl?”

“Yer mama really said tha'?” the archer questioned in surprise.

“Yeah! Mama says a lot of things about you. She talks about you with Michonne all the time,” Hazel happily told him. “Her thinking you're a tree is silly, though.”

Daryl hummed in acknowledgement, willing the blush spreading across his face to go away. He started walking again and Hazel bounded next to him. “Wha' else does yer mama say 'bout me?”

“She says you have a cute butt,” Hazel began, before making an over exaggerated disgusted face. “Butts are gross.”

“Yeah, butts are gross,” Daryl chuckled, leading the six year old into the cellblock and up into his own cell. “Dun' know why yer mama would think mine s'cute.” He allowed Hazel to rush into his cell, her attention instantly going to the boardgame they had been playing the day before.

“Are you going to be my new daddy, Daryl?” Hazel asked suddenly, eliciting a confused scoff from the man.

“Why ya askin' tha'?” he inquired, sitting down on his bed. He toed off his boots and grabbed some jerky he had made, before flopping down onto his back, the thin mattress offering some form of relief for the tired archer. He began chewing on the dry meat, turning his attention back to the young girl.

Hazel climbed onto the bed, making herself comfortable by his feet. “Because Mama said that you have daddy vibes.”

That caught Daryl off guard. He choked on the jerky, his airway cut off. He sat up and hit himself against his chest, soon successfully ridding his airway of the thing that almost killed him. He looked at Hazel in shock, the little girl looking back at him in confusion.

Catching his breath, Daryl shook his head at Hazel. “Nah, I ain't gon' be yer new daddy. Yer mama must've been talkin' 'bout someone else.”

Hazel shook her head in disagreement. “No, Mama was talking about you, Daryl. She said your name when she said that.”

Daryl looked at Hazel in shock and slowly nodded. He had a hard time believing that you, the no-nonsense lady who was one of the very few Woodbury residents who actually knew how to handle herself against the dead, had taken an interest like that in him. There was no way that the woman he had taken an unexpected liking to, a liking that had soon morphed into something that wasn't platonic, liked him like that. He just couldn't believe it.

“Mama also said she'd look better in your shirt,” Hazel said, interrupting his train of thought.

Daryl inhaled sharply. He thought about her words for a moment before nodding to himself, picturing you in his shirt. “Yeah, she would,” he mumbled to himself.

“What?” Hazel asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Daryl quickly shook his head. “Nothin'. S'nothin'.”

As if appearing out of thin air, you showed up at his cell, quietly knocking on the doorframe. Hazel's attention shifted towards the door and she quickly clambered off the bed. She excitedly sprinted towards you and you caught her in a big hug, placing a small kiss on top of her head.

“Hey, Baby,” you greeted her, looking up at Daryl and sending him a shy smile. “Hey, Daryl.”

Daryl, now cursed with knowledge about what you thought of him, could feel his cheeks heating up. He sent you a small nod. “Hey.”

You looked down at your daughter again, about to usher her out of the cell with you, but she saw someone walking outside, and she wiggled herself out of your arms to run to that person. “Michonne!”

“Hazel!” you called out to her, peeping out of the cell just in time to see Michonne embrace the girl in a hug.

Michonne looked up at you and waved you off. “I got her. I'll get her settled down for the night. You say goodnight to your crush.”

You ducked your head in embarrassment and sent her a crude gesture with your middle finger, eliciting a laugh from her. “Fuck you, Michonne,” you mouthed to her, watching her leave with Hazel.

Shaking your head, you turned back around and almost ran into the archer. Daryl steadied you, and you could feel the heat seeping from his hands to your arms.

“Ya alrigh'?” he asked you, his blue eyes gazing deeply into yours.

You nodded, your breath leaving you due to the close proximity you had with the man. “I'm good,” you whispered in confirmation, your heart speeding up.

Daryl, overcome by a rare sense of confidence, hummed and smirked slightly. “Ya sure? My tree trunk arms didn't chaffe yer shirt or anythin'?”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you took a step back. “What?”

“Ya need my shirt instead? I bet ya will look better in it than any of yer own shirts.”

Realization dawned on you. “Hazel—”

“Yeah,” Daryl cut you off, smiling slightly at the way your eyes widened. “Said ya think my butt looks real cute, too. She said other things too, but m'not gon' embarrass ya any more.”

“God, she really exposed me, huh?” you laughed shyly, ducking your head to avoid the archer's eyes.

Daryl moved forward and cupped your chin, lifting your head to look at him. The air between the two of you shifted, an unexplainable electricity forming. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, silently asking for permission.

However, before anything could happen, Hazel came bounding into Daryl's cell again, Michonne hot on her tail. Daryl quickly pulled away and took a step back, and you straightened yourself.

Michonne looked between you and Daryl with a knowing smirk. Daryl blushed and ducked his head, while you pursed your lips and sent her a warning glare. “Don't even think about it,” you mouthed to her, moving away from Daryl to pick up your daughter. “What are you doing here, Baby? I thought auntie Michonne was putting you to bed.”

“I want you to do it, Mama,” Hazel explained, lowering her head to rest on your shoulder. She waved at Daryl, giggling into your shoulder. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Nigh',” Daryl greeted her, sharing a shy nod with you. “I'll, uh, see ya tomorrow, righ'?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, casting your eyes away from him. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

With that, you turned and walked out of the cell with Michonne, leaving Daryl alone in his cell. The archer, confused by everything that happened, sat himself down on the bed. However, he chuckled to himself when he heard your voice from down the hall.

“Hazel, how about for tonight's bedtime story, I teach you about the importance of keeping secrets?”

Yeah, Daryl thought, Hazel definitely wasn't lying. And he took that as an invitation to finally confess to you.

Which he did, that very next day, while you were on watch duty.

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handweavers · 2 days

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something that comes up for me over and over is a deep frustration with academics who write about and study craft but have little hands-on experience with working with that craft, because it leads to them making mistakes in their analysis and even labelling of objects and techniques incorrectly. i see this from something as simple as textiles on display in museums being labelled with techniques that are very obviously wrong (claiming something is knit when it's clearly crochet, woven when that technique could only be done as embroidery applied to cloth off-loom) to articles and books written about the history of various aspects of textiles making considerable errors when trying to describe basic aspects of textile craft-knowledge (ex. a book i read recently that tried to say that dyeing cotton is far easier than dyeing wool because cotton takes colour more easily than wool, and used that as part of an argument as to why cotton became so prominent in the industrial revolution, which is so blatantly incorrect to any dyer that it seriously harms the argument being made even if the overall point is ultimately correct)

the thing is that craft is a language, an embodied knowledge that crosses the boundaries of spoken communication into a physical understanding. craft has theory, but it is not theoretical: there is a necessary physicality to our work, to our knowledge, that cannot be substituted. two artisans who share a craft share a language, even if that language is not verbal. when you understand how a material functions and behaves without deliberate thought, when the material knowledge becomes instinct, when your hands know these things just as well if not better than your conscious mind does, new avenues of communication are opened. an embodied knowledge of a craft is its own language that is able to be communicated across time, and one easily misunderstood by those without that fluency. an academic whose knowledge is entirely theoretical may look at a piece of metalwork from the 3rd century and struggle to understand the function or intent of it, but if you were to show the same piece to a living blacksmith they would likely be able to tell you with startling accuracy what their ancient colleague was trying to do.

a more elaborate example: when i was in residence at a dye studio on bali, the dyer who mentored me showed me a bowl of shimmering grey mud, and explained in bahasa that they harvest the mud several feet under the roots of certain species of mangroves. once the mud is cleaned and strained, it's mixed with bran water and left to ferment for weeks to months. he noted that the mud cannot be used until the fermentation process has left a glittering sheen to its surface. when layered over a fermented dye containing the flowers from a tree, the cloth turns grey, and repeated dippings in the flower-liquid and mud vats deepen this colour until it's a warm black.

he didn't explain why this works, and he did not have to. his methods are different from mine, but the same chemical processes are occurring. tannins always turn grey when they interact with iron and they don't react to other additives the same way, so tannins (polyphenols) and iron must be fundamental parts of this process. many types of earthen clay contain a type of bacteria that creates biogenic iron as a byproduct, and mixing bran water with this mud would give the bacteria sugars to feast upon, multiplying, and producing more of this biogenic iron. when the iron content is high enough that the mud shimmers, applying this fermented mixture to cloth soaked in tannins would cause the iron to react with the tannin and finally, miraculously: a deep, living grey-black cloth.

in my dye studio i have dissolved iron sulphide ii in boiling water and submerged cloth soaked in tannin extract in this iron water, and watched it emerge, chemically altered, now deep and living grey-black just like the cloth my mentor on bali dyed. when i watched him dip cloth in this brown bath of fermented flower-water, and then into the shimmering mud and witness the cloth emerge this same shade of grey, i understand exactly what he was doing and why. embodied craft knowledge is its own language, and if you're going to dedicate your life to writing about a craft it would be of great benefit to actually "speak" that language, or you're likely to make serious errors.

the arrogance is not that different from a historian or anthropologist who tries to study a culture or people without understanding their written or spoken tongue, and then makes mistakes in their analysis because they are fundamentally disconnected from the way the people they are talking about communicate. the voyeuristic academic desire to observe and analyse the world at a distance, without participating in it. how often academics will write about social movements, political theory and philosophy and never actually get involved in any of these movements while they're happening. my issue with the way they interact with craft is less serious than the others i mentioned, but one that constantly bothers me when coming into contact with the divide between "those who make a living writing about a subject" and "those who make a living doing that subject"

#you dont have to read all this im just ranting to myself #like this goes on for a while im just warning you

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sceletaflores · 3 days

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younger!pervy!patrick stealing your underwear 18+

i blame @poppy-metal for my nasty patrick zweig thoughts, this is for you bae. also extremely extremely inspired by icon @murdrdocs, your fics changed lives thank you for your service.

it's pure fucking luck when it happens.

art wouldn't stop complaining about having to take his dirty laundry to the communal room on his dorm floor that housed all the washers and dryers. patrick doesn't know why the fuck he offered to take it up for him in the first place, to shut art up? to make him happy?

who gives a shit anyways cause while he's taking arts stupidly full hamper to the laundry room and following the half-assed directions given to him, he bumps right into someone as soon as he steps foot through the already open door. when he cranes his head around the edge of art's hamper he nearly jumps with fucking joy at what, or more-so who, greets him.

he knew who you were already. art wouldn't stop blowing up his phone with texts about "the hot new chick with an out of this world backhand and a killer fucking rack!". so as soon as he got off the bus in cali and stepped foot in art's cushy dorm room he obviously demanded he take him to one of your matches, and holy fucking shit.

you absolutely obliterate the poor girl on the opposite side of the net. running her up and down the court like a chicken with its head cut off while you stay calm and collected.

he could come just watching your perfect form as you hammer another excellent serve at your opponent, but something has to be said for the fucking outfit you're wearing. the tight tank of your dress does show off your, now proven, killer fucking rack but goddamn that skirt should be illegal. even the flowy pleated fabric can't hide the thick curve of your ass underneath, bouncing as you take off to chase after the ball.

he's white knuckling the edges of his seat the entire match, using every ounce of willpower in his body to not pop a boner in the middle of the fucking stands and even more willpower to not look over at the smug fucking grin plastered on art's face as he watches him. safe to say, you've been on his mind ever since.

now, you stand in front of him holding your own hamper with an apologetic smile on your face.

"shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't even see you." you say, way too chipper for 9 a.m on a sunday.

patrick is the epitome of a cocky, arrogant asshole. he has girls in nearly every state practically begging to choke on his dick without him so much as raising a finger in their direction. he's beyond smooth. he has every sleazy line known to man on the tip of his tongue at all times, yet when he goes to speak he can't manage anything besides a weak mutter of, "s'alright." he mentally punches himself in the balls for letting your bambi eyes and dick sucking lips get the better of him.

you give him a nod and one last friendly smile before stepping around him and making your way down the hallway. patrick watches in damn near agony as you go, ponytail swinging behind you in time with the sway of your hips.

patrick lets out an all suffering groan, dropping his head to his chest in defeat. "fucking dumbass.' he admonishes himself quietly, letting himself wallow in misery before making to take a step forward when suddenly he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

it takes him a few seconds to register just what he's staring at, but when it clicks he nearly has a fucking heart attack. there on the floor lays a pair of lacy white panties, your lacy white panties. it takes him all of a millisecond to drop art's hamper on the floor carelessly and practically dive to snatch them up. as soon as his fingers touch the fabric he can feel himself chubbing up in his sweats. he runs his fingertips over the hem, feeling the familiar rough texture that was snug against your body so recently makes sparks go off near the base of his spine.

when patrick hears lively conversation and footsteps heading his way he shoves the panties in his pocket and snatches art's hamper off the floor to start haphazardly shoving his clothes in the washer.

when he finally re-enters art's dorm room he's met with his best friends face staring at him suspiciously. "what the fuck took you so long?" art questions, brow raised as he watches patrick stumble over to his bed and plop down a little too roughly. patrick's reply is simple.

“got lost."

it's only later, when he's back on the train heading for his latest stop and digging into his pocket in search of his lighter that he feels it. the lacy fabric of your panties still stuffed deep into his pocket. his breath hitches in his throat and before he knows what he's doing he's up like a shot and speed walking to the back of the cart.

he's in the bathroom a mere five seconds before he's ripping his fly down and furiously stroking his hard as steel cock in a cramped train bathroom he can barely stand up fully in. it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's busting in the fucking sink with your dainty white panties balled up in his fist and held against his nose as he inhales so heavily he might fucking pass out.

patrick has already found, and requested you, on facebook by the time he makes it back to his seat.

-------------

taglist!

@yuenity @callsign-artemis @ebodebo (who each put up with me ranting about this so wonderfully love you guys mwah)

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ghouljams · 1 day

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Make a Meal

This is for @glitterypirateduck 's Ghost challenge :) I completely misread the "Making a meal for the other person" as "Making a meal out of the other person" and then was too far gone in my writing to reign it back in.

I guess this fits "A lustful moment turns unexpectedly romantic/meaningful" and "Accidentally falling asleep on each other" better...

Simon is eating you out in slow strokes, nestled nice and cozy under a blanket while you read. It's a lovely low thrum of pleasure. There's no rush, no need to make you come, just Simon indulging himself. Feeling you, tasting you, enjoying you. He's always like this when he comes home from deployment. Months in the field with just military rations and his mask take a toll on him, one you can never hope to understand, but you're determined to help with in any way he needs. Which includes helping him find his center again.

When you'd first started dating you'd thought his homecomings would be more explosive. You'd thought all the pent up need and months away from you would harden him, make him fuck you with an animal need that couldn't be sated until you were sobbing into his shoulder. And it was, until you realized how tired he was. Until the first time he's slumped into your embrace in the entryway and muttered about doing right by you later. Then it had been enough just to help him to bed, to lay with him and feel the gentle unspooling of his muscles against you.

He never slept his first night home, and you'd wake up with his hand low on your stomach, his fingers stroking over the soft skin until you asked if he needed anything. He always hesitated before shaking his head. (You're so different from him, always so different, that's why he liked you, why he took to you so quickly. You were nothing like his work, nothing like the people he knew: gentle, kind, quiet when he needed it, and soft in all the best places. He could never get enough of you to last him through deployment no matter how short it was.) It would take him a solid week to get back to sleeping normally with you, a week of asking what he needed and getting nowhere. Really you should have known, Simon's always been a show rather than tell kind of guy.

The first night he spread your legs, sand still clinging to his hands, fresh from the airport, really it was closer to morning than night. He shushed you with gentle reassurances and a promise that he wouldn't disturb you. "Please love," He'd added, "won't even know I'm 'ere." You were half asleep but you helped him get your sleep shorts off, and spread your legs for him, tried to rouse yourself back to wakefulness enough for sex, but it never came. Simon settled between your legs and pulled his tongue against your slit in gentle strokes, letting warmth pool between your legs without any of the immediate need you so often found when you were awake.

His tongue flicked against your clit, gentle, almost teasing, before resuming its careful exploration. The feeling registered and then settled into a constant buzz, a soft heat that ebbed and flowed. Something you could fall back asleep with, he was so gentle with you, worshipful. When you woke up in the morning his head was resting against your thigh, his ribs expanding and contracting with the soft breath of sleep. It was the first time you'd seen him sleep so well, so soon, after getting home. You didn't hesitate the next time he crawled between your legs.

Now it's a routine, one you've done a dozen times at least, and one you've been able to witness the entirety of. It's the sort of thing Simon will do for hours, a meditation between your soft thighs, a reminder that there's something under the mask even when he can't find Simon hiding behind Ghost anymore. He's always gentle with you, his tongue touching you like you're something delicate to be savored. Sometimes you come, often you don't. It's not for you.

You love it though. The times when Ghost gets home in the middle of the day, when you can pick him up from the airport and drive home with his hand settled heavy on your thigh, are the times you like best. When you can enjoy the company more than the sex. When you can feel the way Ghost's breathing softens as Simon comes back to you, the slow drop off of his attention until his head slumps against you and you know he's fallen asleep. Sometimes you'll scoot down so he can rest his head on your stomach, other times you'll find his cheek already pressed to your thigh, still others you lift the blanket and he's face down against the mattress snoring away.

You turn the page in your book, feeling the way the low buzz of pleasure throbs as your eyes skirt over the start of a smutty scene. Simon must feel it, his tongue pausing before he drags it up to suck on your clit. You jerk at the sudden pressure, pull your moan back into a whine that only seems to encourage Simon. His tongue flicks against your clit between hard sucks, tracing purposefully over your slit to wiggle against your entrance. He works you up so quickly after teasing you for so long, and mumbles for you to keep reading, to ignore him. As if you could when his mouth sparks a fire in your stomach that he has no intention of putting out.

You keep your eyes on your book even when they start to go fuzzy, even when you have to read the same sentence twenty times just to get it to stick in your mind. Simon scrapes his teeth against your clit, pushes his tongue into your pussy, squeezes your thighs with huge rough hands, and all but begs for you to come on his face. It always takes you by surprise, the slowly tightening spring he'd been winding snapping under his consistent pleasure, making you whimper and gasp as your hips buck against his mouth. He drinks down every drop, slurps at your pussy obscenely until you try to close your legs.

It's never enough to get him to stop. No, Simon goes until he's satisfied, until he's full of you, sated enough to fall asleep. His tongue careful when you're still sensitive, avoiding your clit as he cleans you up. You make a note of the smut and skip a few pages ahead to get back to the plot, not willing to disturb your wonderful boyfriend a second time.

Your only complaint, if you even can complain, is that he's so damn heavy when he sleeps.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost challenge #f!reader #afab!reader

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cameronspecial · 19 hours

Note

Helping rafe to use a fleshlight🫦

Helping Hand

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Sex Toys

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: I didn't research for this and an info video for a fleshlight had me giggling. Like, tell me why it has erectile dysfunction aid.

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t a prude. He liked to fuck just as much as the next guy; however, before Y/N, he had never used sex toys. His arrogance made him think that only guys who couldn’t get it up would use them.

She, on the other hand, loves the tools that can help heighten the pleasure for both of them. So she has been working toward getting him to bring the toys into their sex lives. It began with having him watch her use a vibrator. She used it to stimulate her clit, but when it came to penetration, Rafe stopped her and brought her to her release himself. The next step was being able to use a dildo to penetrate herself. It took everything in him not to take it out of her and throw it out the window. As she used the imitation dick, he got turned on by the sight. Maybe, letting her use the toys wasn’t so bad.

Rafe’s upcoming business trip has her scanning an adult toy website she can use while she is away. Her eyes land on a particular object and it catches her interest. This could be the perfect next step in her plan.

———

The night before his trip, he is folding clothes to pack. She tip-toes into the room in her purple silk nightgown that he leaves and her hands are behind her back. Déjà vu comes over him. He is familiar with this view. He rests the pants in the suitcase with a sigh, “What am I going to watch you fuck now? Is it one of those full dummy things? Please tell me it’s not that, they freak me out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she does. “Nope. Actually… it’s something for you,” she confesses, raising her hands to reveal the toy. His eyes narrow at the object.

It’s a black cone-shaped object. One end is rounded and the other is flatter with a bump as well as a red scoop-shaped thing attached to it. “What is that?” he questions. She steps forward with a bashful smile, spinning it around so he can clearly see the end with the scoop. “This is a fleshlight. One of the best on the market, Baby.” She hands it over to him so he can inspect it. He identifies the bump as an imposter labia and clit. In between, folds is a hole and looking inside of it shows tiny bumps. He moves on to the red scoop, which also has the same bumpy surface as the inside. “It’s a fleshlight,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips to butter him up. His eyes widen and he throws it onto the bed. “No, no way. I’m not using that.” She pouts and plays at the hair at the base of his neck. “Aww, come on. I bought it just for you, with my own money. Are you telling me you aren’t going to use my gift to you, Baby?” she whines. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and bats them in the way she knows gets him to do anything for her.

His bottom lip nestles between his teeth and he surrenders. “Fine. I’ll try it out.” She jumps up with small claps of her hand, “Yay! I promise you’ll love it. It will make phone sex so much better.” He doesn’t say anything and just strips down. He settles onto the bed with his back against the headboard. His head tilts to the corner of the bed across from him and she hops on. She rests her feet under her bum, spreading her legs so he can see her pantie-less pussy. “I wanna watch you use it.”

He obeys. His hand grabs the toy and he spits into his hand to help with the friction. After he rubs the saliva over his shaft, he replaces his hand with the toy. The silicone feels strange against him, unlike the warmth and wetness he is used to. It doesn’t feel pleasant, yet it doesn’t feel amazing either. He pumps himself a few times while staring right at her. He quickly gives up and throws the toy to the side. “There I tried it and I don’t like it. So, can you come here to take care of this,” he whines. She plays along, crawling over to him and throwing her legs over his hips. When he reaches down to line himself up, she leans over to his bedside table and pulls something out. She straightens up and shows him the bottle of lube and a remote control. “That’s because I was hiding one final piece of the puzzle.” She pours the liquid on his length, cupping it to spread it all over. Then, she guides the fleshlight onto him. He moans at the re-entry. She reaches between them and places his balls onto the red silicone.

She shifts so she is straddling one of his thighs and presses a button on the remote. It begins to vibrate. The intensity near his balls and tip has him thrusting slowly upward. She smirks at the motion. This is working. His eyes flick to her vagina and she begins to ride his thigh. Her moans add to his enjoyment and he doesn’t bother to hide his anymore. His hips speed up, causing her to giggle. “If you think this is good, wait until you feel what happens when I press this button,” she teases. Her finger hovers over it before applying pressure. The trinket works on its own to suck him into its grasp and the bristles brush against him. “Oh,” he lets out, grabbing onto her waist to give him something to do. She lets him help her move, “See, you like this.”

The muscles in the Adonis belt spasm and she knows what that means. She presses the button three more times, speeding up the pace of the toy. His thumb falls to her bud and he circles it at the same speed. She collapses onto him with her forehead against his shoulder as they are both brought over the edge. They both pant in silence while they come down from their highs. She leans back to look at him with a grin, “So, what do you think?”

“I think that maybe it doesn’t hurt to have a helping hand.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron smut

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xoxosimp · 2 days

Text

On Your Wrist

Synopsis: You and Bucky are in the early stages of your relationship, and he has some trouble getting the perfect gift for you.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: soft mob bucky is a warning, mention of sex, Bucky’s petname for reader is “light”, mediocre writing

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble LMAO but my brain said nawp. This is HEAVILY inspired by Young Sheldon and the song “ Loveeeeeee song” by Rihanna

~~~~

Love was a phenomenon that didn't come easy for Bucky Barnes to understand.

He didn't understand why he was so wrapped up in all things you. The way you laughed, your sweet smile, how you managed to hypnotize him with just a look in your pretty eyes; if he could drown in you, he would.

Bucky’s world was nothing but materialistic. The more dirty money he made , the more cars, watches, and houses he grew to love. The women he used to spend his time with loved all of those things, too. But no dollar amount could begin to describe the love James Buchanan Barnes has for you.

It was almost silly how fast Bucky fell in love with you. He found himself doing things he would have never done before falling in love with you. He would make breakfast for you even though he has a private chef. The benefit of being the head of a criminal organization was people waited for him. So there was no meeting he couldn't postpone, all if it meant Bucky could spend more time with you.

You were his light in his dark world. Before being with you, his purpose was to lead. To kill. You gavee his life meaning he’d never thought he would experience. If you were an angel, he was the devil that would bow to you and repent.

Diamonds and gold were no stranger to Bucky, but the six-figure tennis bracelet he had in his pocket made his hands damp with sweat. You and Bucky were still early in your relationship where he wanted to impress you. And diamonds are very impressive.

He was leaning against his Maserati, waiting for you to get off work so he could take you to dinner, for no other reason than it was Tuesday and he loved you (not that he’s told you yet).

Love was a phenomenon that stopped time whenever you looked at Bucky. It was a look of love and adoration, that nothing else existed except for you and him. It was a look that was shared between soulmates.

You say goodbye to your coworker and greet Bucky with a hug. He tilted your chin so you could kiss him. If it was Bucky’s choice, he’d have your lips on his all fucking day. You pulled away and smiled at him. “ How was your day, Jamie?”

“ Better now that I’m with you, light”.

You wrapped your hands around his waist. “ Where are we going for dinner?”

“I was thinking May’s?” he suggested.

“ Oh thank gosh,” you sighed, “ I have been craving fries all day.”

He chuckled and led to the passenger side to open the door for you. “ I have something for you first, light.”

“ Is it chocolate?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Bucky took the box from his pocket and gave it to you. Your face lighted up but dims. He can't distinguish the look on your face, whether it’s unhappiness or anger, the smile you wore doesn't quite reach your eyes.

“It’s-It’s beautiful Bucky,” you managed to stutter out.

He raised an eyebrow to communicate a “But?. “It’s too much.”

Bucky was a little taken aback. The women he used to surround himself with would have taken it without hesitation. Some would say it was not enough. “ Nothing is too much for you,light,” he said firmly.

“ I could never give you something to equate to-to this-”

“ And you don't have to,” he interrupted softly, “ I wanted to get something for you, so I did,” he shrugged.

He saw you gulp and close the box. “ You got something for me that costs more than a house,” you said.

“That’s not the only reason you’re rejecting my gift, light,” he stated matter of factly.

“It’s not my style,” you mumbled. “ Are you mad?”

Bucky cupped your cheek and you leaned into his warmth, “ Well I’m not ecstatic that you rejected my gift, but I’m glad you feel safe enough to tell me .”

“But if you say I can't take you out for dinner, then I’ll be really sad, doll.” That pulled a chuckle out of you.

Bucky opened the car door for you to sit. “ I’d hate to see you sad, Jamie,” you stated.

“It’s too much,” your words replayed in the back of Bucky’s mind.

As much as he’d love to hear those words spilling from your lips when he’s fucking you deep into his mattress, this was a sign he needed to hold back a little. As much as he wanted to impress you, he didn't want to scare you off.

I can tone it back, Bucky said to himself.

~~~~~

After coming back from a work meeting, you found a box with your name on it. The only logical answer is that it’s from Bucky. Any secret admirers you could have had were too afraid of Bucky Barnes to profess their love.

You sighed as you opened the box, waiting for a more expensive gift than the last one. If he was bothered by your rejection, he didn't show it. Dinner with him was as lovely as it always was.

You weren't insecure that your boyfriend made more money than you, because as cliche as it was, it’s the thought that counts.

In the box was a small string bracelet, decorated with blue and black beads. In the center were three white beads with the letters “JBB”.

Your smile was so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. You reached for your phone to send Bucky a thank you text, but a deep voice startled you.

“ I like to see my light smile,” Bucky stood on the other side of your desk.

“ What are you doing here?” you giggled as you made your way over to embrace him.

“Thought I’d take you out for lunch,” he said casually, then placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for the bracelet, Jay,” you said as he took the bracelet and put it on your wrist, straightening the beads.

“ Anything for you, light” Bucky mumbled as he kissed the inside of your wrist.

Hopefully the next diamond he gives you, he’ll put it on your ring finger. Cross his fingers you won't reject that one.

#bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff

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dduane · 3 days

Note

I found Spock’s World at half price and showed it to me dad and he was like >:[ don’t get that one it’s not good

And then I had to ask myself who I trusted more regarding whether I would enjoy a Spock-centric novel… you or my dad who would be horrified and perhaps offended if he knew the slash fic I have personally written in my life… hmm…

Anyway so I got Spock’s World 😂

If I was in a flippant mood I'd suggest that the people who put the book on the NY Times best-seller list, and kept it there for two months, might have known something your dad doesn't. (Not to mention the people who carefully chose me, over all the other writers then working with them, to do the first Star Trek hardcover.) But that approach is way too easy a reach.

Additionally, I have to be careful about the subject of parental opinions about children's reading, as I have significant negative bias. My own (adoptive) father's takes on my reading preferences were far less than helpful... so as soon as I realized what way his personal wind was inevitably going to be blowing, I made it my business never to allow him to see anything I was reading at all. (Or writing, either. He was firmly on the "It'll never come to anything, it's a waste of your time, and you should give it up and get serious about your life" side of things. To which I silently said "Yeah, no.")

But do I know Spock better than your dad does? I'd say, even leaving my other writing aside, that that's a fair bet. :)

So see what you make of the book. Some people like it: some don't. It's the readers' business to make that call.

I will allow myself this much of a brag, though. I learned not too long ago, in the course of casual conversation, that one of the very best writers I know—one routinely now praised as one of the best writers of the last century, only slowly and belatedly being acknowledged as such—had been recommending Spock's World to other writers: some of whom I didn't know then, but who're good friends of mine now. And frankly, finding out about this turned my brains right around in my head. This man was doing that? Talk about your utterly unexpected validation! Sheesh. It's worth more than any amount of gold.

Anyway: have fun with the book! (And mind the meter-high glass spiders.) :)

#Spock's World #Star Trek #Star Trek novels

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giamee · 2 days

Text

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🫀 )

there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb

header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.

BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.

what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?

he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.

but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.

he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.

and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.

but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.

if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.

IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.

he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.

you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.

you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.

there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.

maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.

the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.

the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.

you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.

DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.

he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.

and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.

and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.

and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.

you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.

and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.

but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.

he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.

and he's right, unfortunately.

you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.

𝜗𝜚 genshin impact masterlist

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 3 days

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pls tell us you have more Ghoul Thoughts on the way🙏🏻

General NSFW Cooper Howard Headcanons 2

Prewar!Cooper Howard

Has a little-bitty bit of an intox kink. He'd never do anything untoward, but I think if he had a partner who didn't party much, it would turn him on a lot to watch them getting all warm-faced and losing their inhibitions after exactly one drink. Working in Hollywood means that sometimes you have to go out and attend functions to mingle and rub elbows, so he's pretty good at holding his liquor. Seeing someone who isn't stirs something up in him, and he's not good at rejecting your advances when the two of you get home like he should.

Shibari kink. Doesn't know that's what it's called, and hasn't really read up much about it, but really gets riled up seeing you wrapped in his lasso. One day you find a book about it, and you show it to him as a half-joke. Soon you're wearing a harness made out of that rope underneath your clothes.

Erotic grooming, anyone? This man will jump to help you wash and brush your hair in the shower. He finds it incredibly intimate, and would help Barb take care of her hair when they were together. He's also very happy to help you shave...

The Ghoul

Can we talk about how lazy this man would normally be during sex? He's 260+ years old and spends all day walking for miles in the desert heat and fighting the entire Wasteland. He would absolutely have you riding him/doing most of the work 90% of the time. And you know what? I support it. He deserves a little spoiling, so hop up and go nuts. But make no mistake: he's still the one in control.

Insanely possessive and only tries to hide the parts of it that he thinks would be truly off-putting. He knows he can't literally stop every single man in the world from interacting with you, looking at you...but if he could, he would. Big into marking you up with hickies, bite marks. Scent marking around other ghouls. The idea of tattooing or even branding you makes him hard as a rock, but he'd never bring it up first, too afraid it'd scare you off.

In the same sort of arena, he's obsessed with fucking his load back into you, be it with his tongue, his fingers, or his cock. You did the work of getting it out of him, you earned it; you're keeping it. Better have the Radaway ready.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard headcanons #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #prewar!cooper howard #vaultghoul #ghoulcy #fallout tv show #fallout prime #submission

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rimunagenius · 2 days

Text

So Bad

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 2.5k

ʚ warning: RPF!! , slight angst?, fluff, sexual tension, two idiots inlove trope

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: sorry this took too long to put out guys…i’ve been trying to write but it’s been so stressful since i broke my foot. i missed a whole week of school so i was trying to catch up and do homework, while doing the current assignment, while doing college classes, and trying to write…it’s been ROUGH. anyways…hope you like this!! it’s a little short but the next part is gonna be long !! just a heads up

Part 5

| Series Masterlist |

The plane ride to Albany was a little tense. You wanted to go in support of the team because this was a game on neutral ground. You guys had made it to the elite eight and that was something you all wanted but had to fight like hell to get. You were only an assistant trainer, theoretically, you didn't have to be here, but you wanted to be here for Kate and the girls. Your best friends. The girls managed to make sweet sixteen and won, and now it was time for the elite eight.

You and Kate haven't talked about the night in your living room. You guys just seemed to pick back up where it was to begin with. Jada thought it was great but was also concerned about the will of self-control you two had to have.

Caitlin eventually found out, pressing Kate about why she had been a ray of sunshine for the last month. She had become the biggest shipper and supporter of you both. Her, Jada, and now Gabbie had known and it felt okay. No hard feelings or bitterness.

"What room are you staying in tonight?" Kate whispered as she tried to put her face in the small gap between your seat and the side of the plane, you both having window seats in stacked rows.

"Uh, might have to delete this from the vlog, Kate." You give her a small pointed look as you turn your body, pointing to the small camera you had been using to record a vlog for an Athletic Trainers day in the life.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." Kate laughed, knowing how that might have sounded.

"No, it's fine. But I'm technically under staff, not a student, so I'm staying on the same floor as Lisa, the assistant coaches, and other staff. Why?" She had a small frown after she realized you guys weren't on the same floor tonight.

"Because I want to sleep close to you." You were quite confused as she had never had this issue before. It was okay on past travel games because she had Caitlin or Jada, but she was sort of attached to your hip since that night, but you didn't think it was going to be a problem.

You looked around, seeing AJ and Molly asleep right next to you, before looking back into the crack between your seats. "Isn't that against the whole, not starting a relationship thing, Kate?" You gave her a soft smile, finding it cute and endearing that she wanted to be close to you.

"I never said we had to share the same bed, I just said I wanted to be close to you. You know, like the apartment?" Your guys' rooms were right next to each other's in the apartment back home.

"I promise you'll be okay Kate. You can call me in the morning and I'll go to your room to get ready if you want me to?” You suggested, turning your camera completely off after you stopped recording. You set it down inside the bag at your feet before sliding on your headphones.

You had Chappel Roan playing, the irony in the song that was blasting through your beats, ‘Good Luck Babe!’, and your arm resting on the armrest where you had previously had your face talking to Kate when you felt a hand tap your forearm. You lifted your head from resting on your fist and looked down. Her hand extended palm to you. You frowned softly, appreciating the small acts of affection Kate was always willing to give you.

You got up on your knees, and looked over the seat, spotting Kate's head resting against the back of your seat, looking down on her phone, sacrificing better posture just to simply be close with you. You sat back down normally, sparing your exposure to spying on Kate, and placed your hand in hers. You two interlocked your fingers and held hands.

You both knew this wasn't out of the ordinary. But something felt so different about it this time. Knowing the connection you two share and the love you two have for one another is something that hangs a thick fog of tension and uncertainty about what to do with all the emotions. You took a picture of your hands, wanting to capture the small moments of intimacy.

You truly loved this girl with your whole heart and you were so willing to give it all to her if she wanted it.

A free day in Albany was granted before getting back to work the next day. So the staff, including you, and the team were free to explore together or separately. It was a lot of the girls' first time in New York so everyone wanted to go sightseeing. You had been looking for an outfit to wear, not much to throw together since you packed a lot of lounging clothes and your Hawkeye gear for the games, when there was a knock at your door. You assumed it was Jada having talked to her on the phone not that long ago talking about getting ready, letting her know what room you were in. "Coming, Jada!" You shouted from the edge of your bed, throwing your clothes back in your suitcase.

"Not Jada." Kate smiled when you opened the door for her and let her in. You laughed and told her it was because you were also expecting Jada.

"Kate, I cannot find an outfit." You looked too stressed for a small team exploration outing. You sighed as you proceeded to dig through the suitcase some more.

"Relax, you'll find something. Let me see what you have." Kate walked over, standing impossibly close next to you while she helped neatly pick out clothes and placed them on the bed still neatly folded. She picked what seemed to be your black flare leggings and your all-black long-sleeve. "That's cute. What shoes did you bring?"

You looked at her, jaw dropped. There was no way the most plain, midwestern masc, was dressing you in something cute. You pointed to the black and yellow dunks that the Iowa staff gifted you this season. "Okay, wear those shoes with your Iowa puffer vest? Basic but still you." Kate shrugged, mumbling a small 'I don't know though.'

"I love it. Thank you, Kate." You smiled softly, disappearing into the bathroom. She nodded softly, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing some clothes back into your suitcase, before sipping on the water she had in her hands. Your phone pinged.

Notification from Jada, texting she was on the way up to the room. "Jada's on her way," Kate said, pausing after seeing your lock screen. The picture of you and Kate holding hands. Her cheeks turned red, sudden butterflies in her belly and her palms growing clammy, it didn't help you came out of the bathroom, fully dressed. You looked so beautiful…she was in deep.

"How do I look?" You asked, posing with hands on your hips. You saw how red her face was, and the way she just slowly dragged her eyes up your body. It made you shuffle of nervousness, suddenly so nervous under her gaze.

"So gorgeous, sunshine." The nickname gave you butterflies, not having heard in a while. Not since before you confessed your feelings to her. Suddenly that name felt like you were carrying a new title to her.

"You think? Looks like you know to dress after all." You teased, and she stood up before taking your hand and spinning you.

"Oh, yup! This fit is so cute!" She needed to act normal, especially before Jada came in and noticed the tension between the two of you. It's like you both just wanted to hurry up time and get to the good part. You wanted each other so bad but you two made a deal. After the tourney, you could be together. You were almost there.

You spun back around to face her, immediately wanting to kiss her. You two stood so close, your self-control wearing thin as you saw her eyes dart from each of your eyes, down to your lips, and doing it all over again. One hand of hers now ghosting your hip, wanting to pull you in closer.

"We can't, remember?" You don't know why you said it. You should've let it happen. You could've but Kate said you two should wait, so you needed to say something.

"Why not?" Her whisper sounded desperate.

"Because you said so."

"When do you ever listen to me anyways, gorgeous?" Her lips were so impossibly close to yours, you damn near almost fell to your knees. Her other hand found your waist, her slowly inching your chest against hers when a knock on the door was heard.

She dropped her hands from you, your body already missing the feeling of her and the sensation she forced through your whole body. Catching your breath, you walked to the door and opened it for Jada who was accompanied by Gabbie and Caitlin.

"You guys ready to sightsee!" Caitlin's enthusiasm through the roof as always, made you laugh as you walked away from the door to grab your shoes next to your bed. You didn't miss the way Kate watched you saunter through the room. Neither did everyone else.

"Yes, I just need my shoes, and I'm good to go." You slid your shoes on, grabbed your purse, and ready to walk out the door. The three girls walked out, you following. You felt a hand grab yours, pulling you back slightly.

In turn, a piece of hair fell into your face, Kate wasted no time in moving it back to the side of your face before handing you your phone and room key. "Left it charging, and this right next to it."

"Oh, thank you." You both were blushing. You two always seemed to be whenever you were around each other. Something about the other just made your body have a reaction, instantly feeling warm and welcomed in the other's presence. You two truly couldn't describe it, but you both knew it was real.

You five spent the whole day walking into local coffee shops, and boutiques and just enjoying the scenery that Albany had to offer. You guys ended the night in front of billboards of Caitlin, taking pictures of her and her success and the impact she's had on the game. You all took pictures of each other and with each other. One of your favorites was you on Caitlin's back, kissing her cheek, while she did her signature hands out in front of her billboard where she's shooting her record-breaking logo three.

You guys even got strangers to take pictures of all of you lined up with each other. You guys were having so much fun. Missing days where basketball wasn’t the main focus for once.

"Hey, we're going to go to that place real fast, Gabbie wants lemonade and I want a soda." Jada told you before she and Gabbie walked off. You looked to check on Caitlin, who was taking pictures with fans, making sure she was alright. Some fans were acting crazy earlier that day.

You and Kate kept pointing at places you could see from where you were standing. "Oh my god, are you Kate Martin?" A girl walked up to Kate, she couldn't have been older than twelve and she looked so amazed at the six-foot blonde next to you.

"Yeah! What's your name?" Kate was beaming, she loved kids. There weren't many in her family aside from little cousins but she didn't see them often, just Carson, but he wasn't old enough to talk yet.

"I'm Audrey. But I'm a huge fan. Everyone likes Caitlin, and I do too, but I think you're pretty cool too." Audrey was nervous.

"Oh, my. Thank you, so much! I bet you're pretty cool, too." Kate bent down, trying her best to stay at eye level for the girl so she didn't have to look up.

Two adults approached you guys, who you assumed to be Audrey's parents, and smiled as their daughter beamed at meeting her favorite player. "Sorry, she spotted you and took off. I hope she's not bothering you, guys." The parents apologized, not wanting their daughter to invade your guy's space, especially Kate's.

"No, not at all! She's so sweet." You said, smiling at the girl.

"Can I get a picture?" Audrey asked.

'Of course you can!" Kate was excited that people noticed her too. She’s used to be in the shadow of Caitlin, and she was happy there. But to know that people loved her as much as you and the team did was another level of belonging she loved to feel. The parents pulled out their phones and took a picture of their daughter. A smile on all of your faces.

"I can take a picture of all of you if you want it?" You offered, wanting the parents to have the memory like their daughter, and the evidence to go with it. They thanked you as you took a picture of the family with Kate.

You could tell this was a good experience for Kate. You loved to see her being recognized for the skills she also brings to Iowa women's basketball. It was cool to see it outside of Iowa too. Kate and the girl said goodbye, but not before signing the girl's white Converse. She wasn't going to leave without it. I wouldn’t either fr…

That's when Caitlin came back, sighing after all the photo ops she just partook in. "Cait, I know you're tired but lets get a pic with us three?" You asked softly, a warm smile hoping to convince the girl.

"Oh my god. Let me take a picture of you guys. I can't be in another picture…if I am I don't know if I can do it without wanting to smash my own head with the phone." You laughed out loud, Kate hunched over laughing next to you. Your cheeks are now red, from the breeze and the laughter, Kate with her beautiful wide smile you adored, smiled for the picture. Caitlin said something else behind the camera, you didn't catch it but the look on her face made you giggle, so you turned your head when she took the picture.

"Aw, man! Take another one, I moved." You pouted before moving closer to Kate's side, smiling wide. After the pictures were taken, you looked at them while you three waited for Jada and Gabbie to get back so you could start heading to the hotel. You scrolled to the first one, butterflies in your stomach when you saw your head tucked in close to Kate, her smiling big into the camera. It was so cute, you didn't have the heart to trash it, the next one was normal, and the last one was you smiling at the camera and Kate looking down at you.

This was definitely your new favorite picture. You sent the pictures to her, listening to her phone ding as they came through. A soft smile on her face as she looked at them. You sent her the last one, with a small text.

sunshine ☀️💕

"You look like you're in love with me, Martin."

bear <3

"Kinda hard not to be."

Neither of you couldn't stop smiling the rest of the night.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 day

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AITA for saying I'm not rich?

Wait stop hear me out

So the thing is, my father is wealthy. Or at least he made enough money to have two Ferraris and a boat, which to me are the most useless things because why would u spend that money on this when u could spend it on food or commodities but details

When I was young, any time I asked for money or something, he'd make a huge deal about it. He'd make me feel awful, so awful that I just stopped asking for anything at all, starting from my teenage years to my college years, and I survived entire months, living alone during college, with 50 dollars to get by. For groceries and bills. And yes, he was nice enough to pay for my rent (170 dollars back then) but every time I'd be the worst piece of garbage for asking him. Worst thing was, I wanted a job, but he had this delusion that any sort of job that would take me, basically customer service, i wanted was "underneath my daughter" so he legit didn't let me and he'd go to big, big hoops to not allow me to do so

I'd never buy clothes or other necessities: I spent my teenage years just putting together what I got from relatives to make some savings, and I'd survive on that. He'd go splendid on my birthday and christmas, I guess, he'd buy me things, but I came to dread those days because the thought of him spending money -and how he reacted to it- always sent me into a blind panic so yes even though I got nice gifts I was never happy about it and I really really don't like my birthday

So I was always the girl who had two Ferraris to my friends, and they'd always get mad at me when I honestly told them "actually Im not rich" or "I'm sorry I'd rather go to the cheaper place" - because I legit thought i wasn't - and called me an asshole. But This was my father's money and I lived with him, but I rarely saw an actual dollar, everything I bought was with my savings and I spent years and years accumulating it, hoarding it. So I lived in this fancy house, but I'd wear 3 dollar pants and worn shoes because that's what I could afford with my money.

Note that even paying my school fees was a nightmare to me, because my father openly said I was a parasite and screamed at me but whATEVER

So um, my friends always said i was an ass for saying I didn't have any money, when my father was swimming in it. But when u survive on the allowance ur aunt gave u for an entire month, u really don't feel like it? and I always always felt so bad about it, because it felt like they were right and I was an asshole for pretending I don't have money. Except I didn't. I really didn't. That was all his, not mine, and while he did pay school and college flat rent, he was always making sure I knew what a burden I was for it. So yes, I'd still say I was actually not rich - even though I was lucky enough to have someone pay for me.

Anyway yeah AITA for saying I'm not rich? Tbh I really don't know if I can consider myself that, when it's not mine and I've never actually used it, it doesn't feel like it, but some tell me that's my privilege and I guess that could be right

Note: I am a grown adult now, I live on my own, pay my own things and have my job. And he's happy that he doesn't have to pay for me anymore, is baffled by my relationship with money (I don't like spending it ahah), not so much about me not living with him though. (The weird thing is he wants me with him, but not to take care of me which, honestly, valid) I do have a better relationship with him, but we never talk money because I live on minimum wage - ironically enough in costumer service - and he doesn't, so to me spending 60 on groceries is a lot (150 bills destroy me honestly, so winter is a joy) and he always, always mocks me for it. It's weird how he goes around with a Rolex and snuffs me for wearing Primark pants and then people constantly just... Think I have money at all and get mad at me when I say I don't

Anyway yeah AITA for saying I'm not rich? Tbh I really don't know if I can consider myself that if it's not mine, if I've never actually used it, it doesn't feel like it, but some tell me that's my privilege and I guess that could be right

#aita #am i the asshole

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azrielbrainrot · 22 hours

Text

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

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