#pure silk material

[shivanesboutique-blog]

A Legacy in Silk: The History of Pure Handloom Silk Sarees

When we think of timeless clothing items in Indian fashion, few can match the feel of a pure handloom silk saree. Among the varieties of sarees, pure handloom silk sarees are special. These exquisite sarees are the best of luxury and tradition, popularly known for their unmatched shine and softness. These beautiful pieces have adorned women for centuries, threading tradition, craftsmanship, and history into a tapestry of art.

The Origin of Handloom Silk Sarees 

The story of the handloom silk saree is almost as old as the fabric itself. Dating back over 5,000 years, silk weaving in India is rooted in the Indus Valley civilization. Legend has it that China kept the cultivation of silkworms for silk production a secret for over 1,000 years before it made its way to India. 

As silk production techniques spread across India, each region developed its styles and varieties. From the regal Kancheepuram silks of Tamil Nadu to the light Chanderi silks of Madhya Pradesh, every handloom silk saree tells a story of its origin and the skilled artisans who bring it to life. This diversity extends to various silk materials, including Mulberry silk, Tussar silk, and silk cotton materials.

Moreover, pure handloom silk sarees are often associated with different regions throughout India and their unique weaving traditions. For instance, the Banarasi silk sarees from Varanasi are known for their gold and silver brocade, while Mysore silk sarees are celebrated for their lightweight feel and subtle sheen.

For more: A Legacy in Silk: The History of Pure Handloom Silk Sarees

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[luxurion01]

Discover Trendy Pure Silk Saree Designs Online: Stylish & Fashionable Options

Explore a wide range of Pure Silk Saree designs online. Find stylish and fashionable options, including designer soft silk saree, pure silk saree, pure kanchipuram silk sarees for ladies. For More: https://www.luxurionworld.com/collections/pure-silk-saree

[samyakk-fashion]

Explore The World of Unstitched Dress Materials Awaits at Samyakk for you!!

Gone are the days of limited choices! Samyakk.com, your one-stop shop for unstitched dress material online, empowers the fashion-forward individual to craft their dream outfit. We offer a dazzling array of fabrics, textures, and designs to bring your unique vision to life.

Explore a Wide Range of Designs at Samyakk.com:

Stay Trendsetting: Explore our curated collection, featuring the latest unstitched dress material designs. Find flowy silhouettes, bold prints, and exquisite embellishments to turn heads for any occasion.

Endless Options at Your Fingertips: Browse a vast selection of fabrics from the comfort of your home. Whether you seek the timeless elegance of silk unstitched dress material, the breathability of cotton, the rustic charm of linen, or the luxurious touch of velvet, Samyakk.com has it all.

Create the Ideal Outfit for Any Occasion:

Effortless Shopping: Say goodbye to endless store visits! With buy unstitched dress material online at Samyakk.com, you can find everything you need at your fingertips.

Sustainable Choices: We offer a wide range of sustainable unstitched dress material, allowing you to look good and feel good for the planet.

Express Yourself: Unleash your creativity with printed unstitched dress material, featuring captivating florals, geometric patterns, or bold stripes.

Find Your Perfect Match at Samyakk.com:

Unforgettable Weddings: Find shimmering fabrics and intricate embroidery to make your special day unforgettable with unstitched dress material for wedding.

Life of the Party: Opt for vibrant colors, playful prints, and eye-catching textures with unstitched dress material for party.

Office Chic: Create professional attire with crisp fabrics and sophisticated patterns using unstitched dress material for office.

Come Into Your Own:

Explore the world of designer unstitched dress material and elevate your style. Add a touch of personality with printed unstitched dress material, or embrace timeless elegance with embroidered unstitched dress material.

Samyakk.com — Where fashion meets freedom. Visit us today and discover the joy of creating a wardrobe that reflects your true self.

Also Check Out:-

[tradeunofabrics]

Discover the timeless elegance and grace of chiffon fabrics in bridal fashion. Our latest blog explores how chiffon is the perfect choice for creating ethereal and romantic wedding gowns. Dive into the world of chiffon and get inspired for your dream wedding dress.

[royallagoon]

Best silk fabric supplier for fashion designers | HTC silk

We take pride in being a leading silk fabric supplier for fashion designers. Now discover an extensive range of silk fabrics with us to fulfill your fashion needs. For other details, call us at +(91)-9820510025.

[illyrianbitch]

An Evening Reunion

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship fluff, lil domestic moments, az coming home from a mission, reader serving cunt in a nightgown, suggestive sexual content, basically dry humping, boners, and allusions to sex

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

based on this ask!! youve done the lords work!!

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The evening was still and quiet, a content feeling lingering in the air as if the world had enjoyed its day and was happily ready to yield to the night.

It had, indeed, been a good day, a really good day. You had no complaints— except one. You missed your mate. Azriel had been so busy recently, chasing fading whispers and potential leads. He was running himself ragged, returning every night exhausted and sore. What would make today perfect for you was something you were sure would make Azriel’s day end properly— a nice, warm embrace.

Faintly, your ears picked up the sound of the door opening, a small creaking that you’d grown to love. Your heart leapt as you pushed yourself out of bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you made your way out of the bedroom and through the hallway.

A window was open in the living room, a decision you had made earlier to welcome the beautiful weather. You had forgotten about the decision until now, until the cool breeze met your body and you shivered, nipples hardening under the thin material of your silk nightgown.

A familiar scent of night-chilled leather and something uniquely him filled the room, carried by the gentle night breeze. You took in a deep breath, letting the air and the smell of your mate fill your senses. A smile began to gnaw at your lips as you rounded the corner, eyes landing on Azriel’s form.

His wings were folded tightly against his back as he shrugged off his jacket, shadows swirling and flickering around his form like restless children. You knew that they got tired on these long missions sometimes, too. Your heart ached at the sight of two beings you loved so dearly being so evidently exhausted.

Sensing your presence, Azriel’s eyes immediately found yours, and the weariness in his face softened into a look of pure affection. His movements stilled, shadows seemingly calming, then, as if sensing his relief. Within seconds, they surged towards you, encircling you in a cool, loving embrace. You laughed softly, the sensation tickling your skin.

You smiled at your mate. “Welcome home.”

His gaze softened even further, a deep warmth kindling within your chest as he tugged on your bond— that divine, beautiful bond.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few long strides. He brought you into a quick, tight embrace, a hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed a faint kiss to your forehead.

When he broke apart with a sigh, you reached up to run a comforting hand over his arm. “Rough day?”

He shrugged, but his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “Better now.”

You gave him a sympathetic glance, brows furrowing at the tension etched into his features. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Azriel only nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he followed you down into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with his heel as you pulled him inside.

Piece by piece, you helped him remove his leathers, fingers softly undoing the buckles and straps. You let out a small laugh at the motions, memories of the start of your relationship bubbling to the brink of your mind— a time where you’d struggle to remove these same buckles and straps, when you’d get so frustrated and curse both your mate and his clothing. Not that you knew he was your mate at that point, but something inside you had convinced you that he was worthy enough of the patience it took to navigate the countless aspects of his fighting leathers.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly, “What's so funny?”

You shook your head, drawing your lips in between your teeth. “Just remembering a time when I couldn’t remove these damned things.”

Azriel let out a laugh then, too. “And now look, you’re an expert.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. Call me the mate of the century.”

He let out another small chuckle, a dimpled smile forming on his face. A wave of silence fell upon you as each piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft clunk, a sound made from both the metal clasps and the hidden assortment of weapons inside. Picking it all up was a problem for tomorrow. You made a mental note of it and stored it away in your mind.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief as the final pieces of his armor fell away. He peeled off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in just his underwear as he took a step closer to you. You tried not to stare at the beautiful form before you, at the ripple of his muscles. Gods, it was a sight you’d never tire of.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you onto the bed with him. He laid back against the pillows, his wings spreading slightly to accommodate your weight as you settled yourself atop him, straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the silk of your nightgown, a cool trail of shadows following and exaggerating his every move.

“Tell me about your day.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Nesta and I walked around town for a bit. We found this little bookstore she loved. And then I baked with Elain. We made those dark chocolate cupcakes you like.”

He hummed appreciatively, hands rubbing gentle circles on your hips. “Sounds nice.”

You started to roll your hips, slowly, almost absentmindedly— a movement that you’d grown used to from other times spent in this same position. “It was. Elain sent some home for you.”

Azriel’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his attention divided between your words and the steady, tantalizing motion of your body against his. “I can’t wait to try them.”

His fingers traced up your sides, one hand gently pushing your hair away from your neck to expose the sensitive skin to him. You shuddered at his touch, at the light brush of his fingertips. His hands were still cold from outside, and the tendrils of smoke, of shadow, that wrapped around his wrist made the feeling even stronger.

“And then we… oh,” you whispered, breath hitching as his nose brushed against your neck, face nuzzling into the crook of it. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin as he traced a path up your throat, a warm ripple of excitement running down your spine.

You tried to stay focused, asking him a question about his day and his input for tomorrow's plans. Cassian’s birthday was next week, and you and Az still had to decide on what you wanted to give him. The plan, supposedly, was to go out tomorrow and finalize your gifts. But your mate's attention seemed elsewhere. You let out a small laugh. “Az, are you even listening?”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, gaze dark with desire, pupils now blown out. “Baby,” he said, “How can I when you look so good, and smell fucking divine.”

You let out a breath as a blush crept up your cheeks, the warmth radiating throughout your body. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, his arousal now evident beneath you, large and wanting. “No, no,” he murmured, his voice husky with need, “Keep talking.”

“Alright,” you responded quietly, but your heart was no longer in the conversation. Instead, you focused on his hardening length beneath you, at the movement of your hips and the growing heat in your stomach. Azriel’s breathing grew more labored beneath you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “And then we—”

You faltered as Azriel began to roll his hips, a whine leaving your lips as his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you into a searing kiss, mouth slotting over yours naturally— needy and eager.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around you as he urged you to continue moving against him— a request you gave into immediately, a pool of desire beginning to wet both your nightwear and his. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against yours, and there was a certain tremor in his muscles— a barely restrained hunger as he started to thrust up.

His hand tightened around your waist, the other sliding down to grab your ass, guiding you with a firm, insistent touch. His shadows coiled around your thighs as you parted from him, heavily breathing against his lips, “I'm getting the feeling that you’ve missed me.”

Azriel’s laugh was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest as his lips remained pressed to yours. “Unbelievably so,” he muttered, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, pulling you even closer.

You let out a sound of protest as he pulled away again, but it quickly turned into one of pleasure as his mouth trailed down to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your shoulder. The strap of your nightgown slipped down, baring more of your skin to his eager mouth.

"S'pretty," Az purred against your skin, fingers delicately tugging the strap down further. "I like this."

“Yeah?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged lightly at his scalp, drawing his attention back to you. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you and you throbbed as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Show me how much.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

whoever sent that ask....i love u and u got me writing faster than any deadline <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

[anantaru]

ayato + a soul sucking blowjob

synopsis. ayato was tired, fatigued and frustrated. arriving home from work shortly after to get finally spoiled by you <3

cw. oral (male! receiving), flustered ayato, fem! reader

you can easily discern certain noises in your place, or specific emotions you feel when you hear them. serving as an illustration— look at when the quick chime of the door being unlocked sparks over your eardrums. what's more, you remember that it's like an unwinding lullaby to you, when ayato lastly arrives home after a long day at work.

the high-priced material of his shoes made a rhythmic click as he walked, which then echoed through the living room when the yashiro commissioner crossed the dinner table to walk towards the couch— nothing else in his mind other than the cloying anticipation to feel you in his arms.

each footfall was unevenly separated from the last and clearly indicating fatigue, no rhythm in them at all. you note that your boyfriend must be utterly tired from his long day, quite spent as he ultimately reaches over to greet you before adjusting his pants to sit down.

"how was your day?" you kindly ask, your smile rumbling with a welcoming affection as you place one hand on top of his muscular thigh, "everything ran smoothly... not to worry," the man assures you after a moment of hesitation.

if there was something entirely true about kamisato ayato— it's that his honesty towards his beloved would only include the details he deemed for you to be okay to know. you were aware of that and really didn't mind, although sometimes you wished you could smooth over the secrets he's forced to carry with himself and make it a little easier.

chewing briefly on his lower lip, ayato searches for your trace, his hands slowly slipping between your legs to rub over the inside of your thigh as he gently exhales through his parted mouth, the clouded sight on his face accentuating his immense attractiveness.

"you look tired, baby," you note, squeezing his thigh, a sensual chime melting on the tip of your tongue when you move as slowly as the petals of a flower opening, silently kissing his cheek before pointing towards the obvious tent in his trousers.

"or… do you want me to take care of this?"

"you— you mustn't trouble yourself with it, i—," ayato ponders out loud, glancing awkwardly to everywhere but your face.

he didn't even realize that he's gotten a little too excited to see you tonight. this hasn't happened in ages and only served as an additional indicator that there was more to the frustration inside of him than he originally let on.

swiftly, and with a touch of silk, you unravel every sharp edge of his strong bravado— and the tension rises beneath the layers of garments he wore, a slight hue of embarrassment catching onto his pale skin.

"i'm just so happy to finally see you, 'cannot control it, i apologize."

his pure admittance coupled with his flustered expressions burns into your heart like liquid gold as he laps over his lips softly when you smile back at him, ready to worship him as if you're born to savor this hallowed moment.

"don't apologize," you remind him, and in the split second that your hand feels over his bulge, every nerve in his body and brain was electrified— as the motion of your palm spoke of a movement coupled perfectly to itself, confident, focused and reverent, "i missed you too."

unhurriedly, you get yourself off the couch before settling in between his thighs, your hands coaxing out a shaky groan from him as you slid them over his legs before hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, freeing him shortly after. at the feeling of his bulging erection being met with the cold air of the room, ayato whimpers, yet what actually made him lose his mind was when you took him in your hand, his glossed pre glazing over your knuckles and sending him into a heady trance. 

he feels how his balls were tightening when you slant your lips forward to spit on his cock, his body starting to ready itself for your warm, wet mouth before you're slowly dragging your tongue over the slit, the feeling of ecstasy coming through him in a controlled wave of pleasure.

in this moment, ayato feels like all the relief in his life settled in his stomach and his worries died down, all the times he had dreamt of you the entire day when he was supposed to be actually focusing on work— not the memories of last night where he had you draped over the mattress, stuffed entirely with his cum. the memories of the night still left him in a tremble, and how utterly beautiful you looked claimed in such lewd manner.

your hand wraps around the base tight enough to heighten the feeling of pressure and bliss on him, a choked rumble coming from above you as ayato covers his face with one arm while the other settles on your head. your hand firmly palms around the base of his erection as you began to gave his tip a tentative lick, never focusing less on how he was reacting to you.

the more inches you decided to swallow, the more you cam into contact with a rich, masculine musk permeating on your tongue at the first taste of him— ugh, ayato tasted so good, and he always took such good care of himself that you cannot help yourself but rub your thighs together, hoping it's enough to pleasure yourself on your own.

to make him further lose his mind, you know what you had to do and proceeded to sweep your tongue across the head several more times until his eyes would turn bloodshot from the little droplets of tears hovering on his pretty lashes.

oh well, he must be so tired, fatigued and frustrated. at the same time, suffusing into the loss of his mind and the hotness of your lips softly pressing into his shaft.

he cannot wait until you take him in your mouth.

which then, naturally you did, yet slow, encouraged by the addictive taste of him filling your senses as you take more of his length into your mouth. you bob your head up and down, the heavy tip of his erection nudging in the back of your throat as you let him guide you up and down with his hand, working the first couple inches of his dripping dick against your tongue until you hit your limit.

for what you couldn't gather inside your wetness, you let your hand make up for the rest, finding a comforting pace as ayato grew so absorbed in watching you please him, it's almost as tasteful as feeling it in the first place.

just how obediently you let him feel around your mouth as his fingers slide through your hair— he hopes he manages to turn you soaked by the end of it, so he mustn't prepare you any further and can sink himself inside of you much quicker.

you lift your eyes to meet his delirious half-gaze before you hollow your cheeks, pulling back with a soft popping sound and a faint rush of adrenaline.

"you enjoying yourself?" you coo devilishly, then cock an eyebrow that destroyed all its softness within your triumphant gaze, "very much so," he smirks back.

boldly, he hides between the beautiful implications of a clouded expression hovering all over his facial features, when in reality, ayato has already planned out the entire night for you two.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[blueberrycig]

dilf art please save me dilf art

i can’t stop thinking abt sugar daddy!art feeling so fucking filthy that he has access to your body at any time.  18+

cw: exhibitionism, somno

your soft bare feet roam his grand home delighting in his riches like you own it. post training, he’ll join you in the pool after you’ve had a long day of being pampered and doted on. he’ll make sure to send the best masseuses, dermatologists, personal trainers, nail artists, you fucking name it, to the house in his absence to maintain how perfect you are for him. you’re so smooth and radiant all the time, with no expectations other than just being yourself. he has people on payroll to do the rest of it.  

he’ll fuck up into you sat on the steps of the pool after placing you roughly on his lap, and your unholy moans fill the sky as maids and personal chefs scurry around the house to make sure everything is perfect for your return inside. he’s obsessed with how you’ve made him lose all inhibitions, not giving a shit about who’s around him or where you are anymore.

he doesn’t want you to lift a finger. just to sit pretty and enjoy the finer things in life, he’ll feed you delicacies from the edge of the earth, drape you with the most expensive materials. he’ll die a happy man with you clambering on top of him like you do, clinging onto his wide shoulders, inhaling his scent in. he’ll thrust into you deeply while shoving your face into the velvet of the couch. your ass will be up for his pleasure, thumbs pressing into your lower back and you’ll drip like honey around his gorgeous thick cock, “who makes you feel this good, huh?” he’ll throw a million dollars into the fireplace that looms over you both just to keep you warm. 

he’ll win games just to drown you in gifts, hitting balls harder with the thought of your pussy behind each serve. he can’t wait to fly home to his sweet girl who feels physically nauseous and deprived of his touch. you keep yourself busy, stealing facetimes from him whenever you can while he’s on tour, letting him mutter how he’s going to ruin you when he’s home. you dip french-manicured fingers into yourself, drenched at the sound of his voice and how it caresses the goosebumps on your body. “please come home, baby, i need you.”

he’s fresh off a red-eye flight when he returns to you, fast asleep, looking so peaceful and unharmed by the world. as long as you’re his, you’ll experience this every night. you’re naked as he slots behind you after his shower, wearing nothing but perfume and cartier resting between your breasts. he can't wait to show you what he's brought you from paris.

you smell like the sweetest pears and creamy vanilla gelato and he’s sure to savour the scent as he runs his nose from your neck, down to your shoulder. he familiarises himself with the silk of your skin, his large hands, rough and strained from an intense open, greedily roam your smooth thighs. 

his dick grows hard at how supple and untarnished you are. pure, clean, polished. 

he’ll push your leg up and plunge himself into your warm, waiting hole. you stir, waking up a little from the sudden movement in and around you, all he’ll have to say is “shh, baby. it’s just me. shhhh…” 

you relax your head back into his hard chest, drowning in the scent of strong soap from his shower. you mumble sleepy words of babble, happy that he’s home, and all he does is shush you softly back to bed. that you need your sleep to stay so lovely. you listen to him as he’s the only one who knows what’s best for you. 

he gently thrusts into you, in and out, in and out. you drift back into the night. your pussy is so nice and warm for him, washing his body with heat as he smothers your neck with his hot open mouth. he massages your tits, rolling your nipples as you make pretty little noises in your slumber.

you dream of him fucking you somewhere far up in a romantic sky, cushioned by cotton candy clouds and his tongue tasting of strawberry.

you squeeze around his cock, cumming twice as hard around the perfect man who takes care of you in every reality.

part two of this ig

[shivanesboutique-blog]

Festive Fabrics & Drapes: The Ultimate Guide to Material Collections & Silk Sarees

When it comes to celebrating life's special moments, nothing can compare to the timeless beauty of a silk saree. And for women who love wearing traditional clothes, these exquisite sarees aren't just a piece of clothing; they're a statement of grace, confidence, and culture. Let's explore the world of festive fabrics and drapes.

Pure Handloom Silk Saree: A Timeless Treasure

In any woman’s saree collection, the pure handloom silk saree is a must-have essential. These masterpieces are more than just fabrics, they're pieces of art with each thread telling a story of skill and tradition. The beauty of a handloom silk saree lies not just in its shine but in its expert craftsmanship.

For a lot of young women today, a pure handloom silk saree is the perfect mix of tradition with style. Whether you're attending a wedding or hosting a dinner party, these sarees effortlessly go from day to night, making you feel like royalty.

Material Collections: A World of Styling Possibilities

As you go deeper into the world of sarees, you will come across a wide range of material collections that can cater to every taste and occasion. From the lightweight charm of cotton to the rich essence of silk, these collections offer a saree for every mood.

One saree that stands out in these material collections is the organza silk saree. With its delicate texture and ethereal feel, organza silk sarees are perfect for those who want to make a statement. They're sophisticated yet playful making them a great saree option for festive celebrations and special events.

Another gem in the world of silk is the tussar saree. Known for their earthy tones and rich texture, tussar sarees are ideal for women who love sarees but prefer a more subdued and refined style palette.

The Readymade Collection: Convenience Meets Couture

For the busy working woman, time is of the essence. This is where readymade collections come into play. Nowadays, readymade collections offer crafted ethnic wear that looks as though it's been made just for you.

These pre-stitched wonders are a godsend for those sudden invitations or last-minute events. With a readymade collection piece, you can look effortlessly chic in minutes, without sacrificing the grace and poise that traditional wear radiates.

The Versatility of Material Collections

One of the joys of exploring diverse material collections is discovering the versatility of different fabrics. By curating a wardrobe that includes various material collections, you're prepared for any event, be it a casual lunch or a wedding event. 

The readymade collection, too, plays a crucial role in this versatility. Having a few good pieces from a readymade collection means you're always ready to step out in style, even at a moment's notice.

Finding Your Perfect Drape at Shivane's Boutique

As we finish our look at festive fabrics and drapes, let’s talk about a place that brings all these ideas to life. Shivane's Boutique is the perfect place for any woman searching for ethnic wear. Whether you’re looking for pure handloom silk sarees or the latest readymade collections, Shivane's offers more than just clothing – it’s a collection of timeless traditional classics.

At Shivane's, you'll get help in choosing from a wide range of saree materials, so each saree you pick looks beautiful and feels comfortable. Whether you love the light feel of organza or the natural charm of tussar, Shivane's Boutique is the perfect place to find sarees that blend tradition with modern style. Every woman deserves to wrap herself in the luxury of silk and celebrate her unique style with every fold and pleat.

For more: Festive Fabrics & Drapes: The Ultimate Guide to Material Collections & Silk Sarees

[priyadigi22]

Designer Chiffon Sarees Which Are Best For Everyday Use

A saree is a basic attire of woman, one may not wear it on regular basis but she surely wears it on any special occasion. These days most women like to wear chiffon saree due to its elegance and sheen. Various varieties of chiffon sarees are available in the market, for instance, plain chiffon, designer chiffon and embroidered chiffon sarees and so on. These varieties are suitable for any type of occasion.

Chiffon Sarees are quickly becoming one of the most popular materials for any occasion. The cloth is woven using a unique process. This results in a fabric that is soft, lightweight, and simple to drape. Although Chiffon sarees seem fragile on the surface, they are rather strong. Chiffon sarees are available in an array of hues and styles. You can simply wear a Chiffon saree to family gatherings, social occasions, weddings, and festivals!

The canvas is wide when it comes to styling a designer chiffon saree. The seamless drape, bright colours, sheer, and texture, make this saree a one-stop solution for fashionistas. Hence, it is a must-have in every woman’s wardrobe.

[luxurion01]

Discover Trendy Banarasi Fabric Designs Online: Stylish & Fashionable Options

Explore a wide range of Banarasi Fabric designs online. Find stylish and fashionable options, including designer banarasi fabric material, pure banarasi silk fabric, banarasi pure silk fabric for ladies. For More: https://www.luxurionworld.com/collections/banarasi-fabrics

[tradeunofabrics]

Welcome to our ultimate guide to choosing the perfect chiffon fabric for your project. Whether you're a fashion designer, a DIY enthusiast, or someone with a creative vision, this blog post will provide you with valuable insights and practical tips to help you select the ideal chiffon fabric for your next endeavor.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

rosé | f. odair

(final part of red wine)

part one, part two

summary: in the final part of the red wine series, secrets are revealed, and miscommunication threatens to tear you and finnick apart.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, blood, minor injury, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing,

notes: i’m sorry this took so long to come out y’all. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this mini fic <3

word count: 4.1k

Finnick believed he had made a lot of smart decisions in his life—like rigging a net made out of vines to ensnare tributes in the arena, accepting secrets as a form of payment from his patrons rather than material goods, and mastering the art of seduction to manipulate his way out of various difficult situations. However, shutting you out was not one of them.

Half an hour had passed since the incident on the staircase landing. He lingered within the mansion’s extravagant walls, where other guests mingled and dined on a range of bizarre delicacies. He couldn’t eat a thing. His stomach churned at the image of your hopeless expression as he walked off. The expression he caused.

It had to be done. That is what he had been telling himself. It had to be done, otherwise, everyone in the Capitol would learn of his feelings for you. Snow would find out and most likely punish you for interfering with the arrangement he had—the sale of his body. And Finnick was very aware of what happened to people who disrupted the president’s plans.

Partygoers would have already begun to spread rumours of the scene in the courtyard. Hopefully, it would just be chalked up to a simple argument between friends. Friends. The label borderline disgusted him. You don’t fall asleep to the thought of someone and think of them the moment you wake up if you’re just friends. Nor do you look for them in every room you walk into.

Even now, Finnick was scanning the lavishly decorated banquet hall for a glimpse of your pure white gown, despite being the one who walked away. It was an instinct at this point. But there was no one in the room wearing white but him; his matching half was still outside, blending in with the winter snow. Or maybe gone home.

One colour did catch his eye though. A vibrant, almost tacky red, worn by a woman who was strutting towards him, her chin held high with pride. Finnick noticed the material of her floor-length gown. Silk. She was wearing your old dress, only the colour was incredibly off, and each hem was lined with red fur, conforming with her implanted whiskers. That was when he realised who the woman was.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline.

“Where’s your dancing partner tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

The bright saturation of her dress was almost blinding as she stopped in front of him. He held back a grimace and plastered on a smile even faker than her voice. “She wasn’t up for it this time,” he lied.

“Well, everyone knows she’s out of touch with our way of life,” she said. Finnick ground his jaw, struggling to maintain his façade. Words could not explain how condescending these people were. “This dress is an adaptation of one she wore quite a while ago. Such a plain thing. I only liked the colour and bodice. The only way I could wear it in public was if I spruced it up.”

He thought back to the dress you had worn. Nobody had even come close to how phenomenal you looked. Where others needed extravagance and flounce to stand out, you only needed a simple red dress. Yet here this woman was, thinking she had the audacity to call you plain.

“I noticed. It’s very… striking.”

“Thank you, darling,” she purred. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes, like that of a wild cat about to pounce and devour its meal. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it.”

His forced smile twitched. “You’re certainly turning heads.”

“Did I turn yours?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Truth be told, Finnick hadn’t even remembered her existence until she walked right up to him. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her that, so he told her that she did. For a long period of time, they bounced back and forth, complimenting and flirting with each other, never dipping below the surface into a real conversation. Not that he wanted to anyway. Not with her. The only person he longed to conversate with was now out of reach.

The woman started talking about colourless topics such as the latest fashion trends in the Capitol and her opinions on the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, all of which made Finnick wish she would just gouge his eyes out with her sharp claw-like fingernails. He couldn’t do anything but stand, smile, and agree. Doing anything else would result in Snow staying true to his very detailed threats

As the conversation continued, his attention began to drift. He surveyed the outfits of everyone in the room, amusing himself by deciding whether or not each person was making a fashion statement or tragedy. Only one person claimed the former title—the one in white.

Finnick watched as you entered the room. The giant golden chandelier cast down a bright light which caused your skin to glow with radiance; its glare enhanced the brilliance of your white dress. This brief moment ignited a fear in him that you had died in his absence because there was no way a mere human being could look so angelic.

“Finnick?” the feline asked, but her voice barely registered in his brain.

Captivated. He was utterly and completely captivated. One after the other, sudden realisations conjured in his mind. The first—there wasn’t a life worth living ahead of him if you weren’t by his side the whole way, and not as a friend or a fellow victor, but as his partner. His lover. The second—he would never let any harm come to you. He would keep you safe from Snow’s clutches, from the Capitol, from anyone who would put you in danger, even if it meant the two of you had to disappear into the vast forests of Panem.

And lastly, he was now absolutely certain that the woman in front of him could never compare to you, nor could anyone else in the ever-expanding universe. You were a basic human necessity to him. Without you, his heart might as well stop beating. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your unwavering support—every part of you kept him alive.

“Finnick?” the voice that went disregarded hissed again.

With a half-empty wine glass in hand, your anxious eyes searched the room. Finnick wanted nothing more than to sprint over, pull you into his arms, and cast away every trouble plaguing your mind. He couldn’t. Almost all eyes were on you, yet you hadn’t even seemed to notice. Only one person finally seemed to gain your attention, and that was Finnick, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on yours.

The neurons firing in his brain signalled him to move and he did. But just as his legs started to walk, a forceful hand jerked his face to the side and a pair of harsh lips were crushed to his. Glass shattered on the marble flooring. Momentarily paralysed from shock, Finnick stumbled backwards, briefly catching the twisted triumphant smirk on the woman’s face before whirling around.

Your face was frozen with devastation; his heart dropped. Splatters of red wine had stained your gown, pooling in a crimson puddle of glass shards by your feet. Quiet mocking chuckles and whispers echoed around the room. Oh, if only he had his trident; they wouldn’t be laughing then.

An Avox rushed forward, attempting to clean up the mess, but you had crouched down with them.

“No, please,” Finnick heard you say to the Avox as he strode toward you. “Please don’t. I can do it.”

But delicate hands and glass shards never mix well. You gasped in pain. A jagged fragment you collected had sliced into your palm, creating another crimson pool in your hand.

Finnick’s strides quickened, eventually leading him to stop and kneel beside you. He wordlessly took your hand in his, cradling it as he inspected the damage. Blood coated his fingers, but he didn’t care. He might as well have cut your hand himself. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for him.

Pink blush overtook your face. For once, it wasn’t because he made you flustered or bashful, but because you were humiliated. He knew how much you disliked attention; now you were at the centre of it. Beside you was the Avox, tending to the mess of broken glass.

“Could you bring me a first-aid kit, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

They nodded and silently left. Finnick returned his attention to you, applying pressure to your wound. Your gaze was lowered, unwilling to meet his own. There was more to your demeanour than just embarrassment. There was sadness. Disheartenment. Neither of which were present when you walked in, only appearing after the feline woman had kissed him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes unmoving.

The Avox returned holding a medical kit; Finnick thanked them, taking the box into his hands. He climbed to his feet, hesitating before offering you a hand up. Much to his relief, you accepted his assistance. And then, without a word, you began walking towards the nearest exit with apparent indifference to the engrossed eyes following you.

Finnick didn’t bother to conceal his icy glare toward the crowd as he trailed behind you and exited the room.

*******

Pain of a thousand unrelenting bees stung the broken flesh of your palm. Even the slightest movement of your fingers sent waves of throbbing agony up your arm. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ache of your heart.

You had entered the mansion in search of Finnick, determined to mend the crack in your friendship before it crumbled completely. What you got instead was humiliation and heartbreak. What you saw was another woman kissing the man you loved, whilst wearing a horrible adaptation of your red gown no less.

The air had been sucked from your lungs. Believing he would kiss you on the dance floor in the courtyard was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream, a pathetic fool’s wish—every term under the sun that defined something not real. At least now you understood why he was acting so differently. Because he had found someone else and that someone wasn’t you.

A lump formed in your throat and you knew tears were approaching. As if your night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Your feet carried you down a long corridor, far enough away from the banquet hall that listening ears and prying eyes were unable to reach. Finnick still followed behind you, though you weren’t sure why he bothered. How could he explain what you saw with your own eyes? Plus, the last thing you wanted was for his new romance to think something was going on between you and him. Only in your dreams.

Unsure of your destination, you decided to enter the first room you came across. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated library, walled with large wooden bookshelves which were filled endlessly with novels and historic paraphernalia. Sitting within the bookshelves was a stone fireplace.

The door closed as Finnick entered behind you, the silence so loud that the crackles from the fireplace reverberated through the room. Your hand still throbbed something awful so you looked down, taking in the gruesome sight of your dress. A stranger might have thought you had just murdered someone. If it were televised, it would have been deemed acceptable.

You sniffled, wearing a small bitter smile. “I ruined Snow’s pretty white dress.”

A few moments passed before Finnick replied. “Red always was more your colour,” he said, his tone anything but playful.

Ahead of you was a great wall of windows; in the reflection, you saw him staring back at you with an unfamiliar expression. His brows were pinched upwards, pronouncing the lines in his forehead, and the corners of his mouth drooped in a slight pensive frown. He didn’t look like the Finnick you knew. This Finnick looked pained. Anguished.

You dropped his intense gaze and ambled across the room. By the lit fireplace was a cushioned stool which you sat down on, eyes staring into the flickering flames. If you were lucky, maybe your dress would catch alight and whisk you away from your troubled life. Okay, perhaps the thought was a little morbid, but so was a broken heart. Of all people, why did you have to fall in love with Finnick Odair?

Cautious footsteps followed behind you, coming to a stop beside your feet. Without your acknowledgement, Finnick crouched down, eyeing the bloody mess of your hands with concern. His gaze lifted to yours, which was still on the fire, and he sighed.

“Let me take care of your hand,” he murmured.

Before you could refuse, you realised contracting an infection was worse than giving in to your stubbornness. So, you nodded.

Finnick opened the first-aid kit and began tending to your wound; his touch was so gentle it was like he was piecing together a broken china cup. Using an antiseptic gauze, he attempted to clean the damaged skin, whispering apologies whenever you winced in pain. After carefully applying a dressing, he began wrapping a bandage around your hand.

You stared into the orange flames, wondering how he would explain to that woman why he left her behind. You wondered when their relationship started and why Finnick continued to shamelessly flirt with you in her absence. You wondered if their relationship would be the end of your friendship.

“Are you in love?” you quietly asked.

His hands stilled at your sudden words, then he continued wrapping the bandage. “Not with her.”

He secured the binding with medical tape and climbed to his feet, placing the supplies back into the kit on a small side table.

Brows drawn together in confusion, you turned to look up at him. “But I thought—"

“Things are much more complicated than they seem,” he interrupted. There was a clear vase of white roses on the table. Finnick toyed with the petals, caressing them between his gentle fingertips. “No one understands me better than you do, and there is no one in this world I trust more. But… there are still things I’ve been keeping from you.”

The troubled expression on his face melted into one of vulnerability. This was a new appearance for him. Finnick was known nationwide for his radiant confidence and charm; he never let his guard down. You have had difficult conversations before, such as discussing each other’s hardships and innermost secrets, but none of them seemed to affect him like this.

“Everyone knows about my visits to the Capitol,” he continued. “How I spend nights with different people every time as if it’s all a game for my pleasure. But it’s not true. It’s not my game I’m playing.” He began walking over to the wall of windows, overlooking Snow’s gardens. “There’s a part of it that no one knows about.”

You rose from the stool, beginning to take slow steps towards him. “Which is?”

The fire flickering behind you deepened Finnick’s features. It intensified the shiny bronze of his hair and enhanced the defined contours of his face, making it easy to see the muscles in his jaw clench with apprehension. He stared out the window so intensely that you were sure his usual green eyes were blazing with their own inferno.

Even full of angst, he was painstakingly beautiful.

His chest inflated with a deep breath. “President Snow… sells me to the Capitol.”

Horror washed over you in monstrous waves. Sells? Only one explanation appeared in your head as to what he meant. You remained silent, praying he would prove your assumption wrong.

“After I won my Games, he saw my success as an opportunity to please his citizens. He began offering me to potential buyers—'admirers’ is what he called them—who soon became my regular customers. They would use me however they liked. Some would pounce on me the second I stepped through the door. Others were relatively tamer. Kinder. They would have me take them on dates or watch a movie with them, but one way or another, it all ended the same way at the end of the night.” He sucked in a sharp uneasy breath before continuing. “Then there were the rare few—the ones who treated me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll for their amusement. They did things that were… unspeakable.”

Nausea churned in your stomach as your mind conjured sickening images. It couldn’t be true. You refused to believe that human beings could stoop to such levels of atrocity to make one person endure so much cruelty. Then again, you lived in a world where children were sent into an arena to fight to the death on live television.

Finnick looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Every word he confessed shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could this have happened to him?

“I’ve tried to refuse but Snow threatened to harm the people I care about—my family, my friends. After I met you, I knew you were added to that list.” He finally turned around to face you, his eyes filled with such anguish, it shook you to your core. “The Capitol owns me, Y/N. Body and soul.”

Despair riddled your entire body. As you stared at him, the image of a teenager appeared in your mind—eyes sea green and hair a fiery bronze. He was just a boy when it started. A child.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Finnick,” you said softly, stopping in front of him. Your eyes beckoned for his; you needed him to look at you, to really take in your next words. “There isn’t a single person alive I think more highly of than you. No one even comes close. Can’t you see? Just having you in my presence makes me feel whole. You make me whole.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as they flickered between your own, absorbing every reassuring word you said into his mind, his bones, his entire being.

“You have brought so much into my life,” you continued. “So much good. And I would never have made it to where I am now without you. So please, don’t ever distance yourself from me because you think I will judge you. I won’t and I never will.”

As the room stilled with silence, a lone tear rolled down Finnick’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing the sob he was keeping restrained within his throat. And then a smile started to grow on his face, small at first, but then it stretched wider and wider, deepening those dimples that you adored so much.

You knew that your words had touched the deepest parts of him. That you had managed to convince him ‘less’ could never be a word used to describe him. He was more. More kind, more genuine, more caring than almost all of Panem.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in awe, looking at you as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe. “Sweetheart, you’re incredible. Do have any idea how rare that is for a person to be? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you in my life, but I swear I’ll do whatever I can to keep you. And if—” His gaze drifted, seemingly wrestling with a decision in his mind— “if that means I have to share all my secrets with you, then I will.”

“Have you got any more secrets, Finnick?”

He returned his attention back to your face. The indecision from moments ago had disappeared and was replaced with certainty, which was underscored by a sort of tenderness that settled in his features.

“Just one,” he murmured. He paused, observing the universe before him and wondering how on earth he got so lucky to have the privilege of having it staring right back at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Electricity shocked your heart like someone had placed a defibrillator over your chest and hit charge. Love? You? He was?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything. Even if saying this means I’m risking everything between us, I can’t keep it from you any longer. God, sweetheart, I love you so much it fucking hurts. I always will, even if you never feel the same.”

Somehow in the span of twenty minutes, everything you thought you knew came crashing down. First, your heart was broken by the thought of Finnick kissing another, and then it was healed. And then it broke again as he voiced his arrangement with Snow. It could never fully heal again while Snow was alive, not with what he was forcing upon Finnick.

But Finnick pieced together every piece he possibly could with his confession, one heartfelt word of declaration at a time.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and hope for your response. Time seemed to stretch out as you tried to find your voice. How do you declare your love as powerfully as someone who just bared their soul to you?

An emotional laugh bubbled up your throat, your eyes brimming with tears. “You idiot,” was what you said, the words spoken with utmost adoration. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Before you had a chance to react, he had moved towards you in one swift step, pulling you into his arms and crushing his lips to yours in a powerful, passionate kiss.

Your hands were quick to cling onto him, desperately terrified that if you let go, he would vanish into thin air. Every ounce of yearning and hidden affection from the past year poured into this one single moment, into the movement of your lips against one another, and the feeling of your hands cradling each other’s bodies.

Emotions were running high. You could taste both your own and Finnick’s tears as they streamed down your faces, salty and palpable with affection. The sheer relief of finally being free to express your love was so unimaginable that you felt like you would be crying with happiness your whole life.

Finnick’s hand cupped the side of your jaw and he lowered his head, deepening the kiss as much as he physically could to make up for all the time he wasted. His lips were soft and adoring, savouring the sweet taste of your lips on his. His other arm tightened around your lower back, pulling you even further against him.

You felt like you were melting into his embrace and happily, you would have. It felt so right, so safe to be held by him. The world outside the library no longer existed; there was only Finnick and you. Your hands settled on either side of his jaw, staining his skin red from your blood-soaked bandage. You knew he wouldn’t care—the blood belonged to you.

And that is how you spent most of the night. In the library, in that one spot by the windows, in each other’s arms. At some point, you ended up sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, both covered in red and feeling blissfully content. Your back was leaning against Finnick’s chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as he occasionally pressed his lips into your hair.

You toyed with the fabric of his sleeves, your head leaning against his collarbone as you watched the flames once more.

“If Snow ever finds out…” you murmured.

“He won’t,” he reassured quietly. “I won’t let him. He’s taken too much from me; he won’t take you too.”

You turned your head to peer up at him, wearing a teasing smile. “Can’t live without me, Odair?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

Once again, Finnick’s lips were on yours, conveying every ounce of immense love he felt for you through his kiss. The only time either of you broke apart was to whisper sweet declarations of your devotion and reverence before returning to each other again. This was when you felt most complete.

When you felt whole.

tags: @queenofspades6 @powellssaturn @bellamybellamyblake @heroinhchicblog222