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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

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For the flower prompts...

Calla Lily (it's my favourite flower) - Something at first sight.

I leave it to you to do any Sandman pairing you have an itch to write. 💜😊

Ooooooo this one is so appropriate for me as one of my fave fics I’ve written (not for this fandom) is called Calla Lillies 💖💖 I also added a little personalized twist on this, just for you 😘

Flower Prompt Game!

(Also, for anyone still wondering, I am in fact still accepting prompts! Gonna be a bit slow and answer one or two a day, but I’m so glad this has been such a hit!)

—---

When Morpheus Endless (and isn’t that the name of the century?) enters the coffee shop in a whirlwind of taut anxiety and indignant rage, Simon Snow does not even say hello, he merely takes up residence at the espresso machine to start preparing the most absurdly complex drink known to man.

“Your man is here,” Penelope deadpans, and Simon rolls his eyes. Morpheus is not his man. He’s very nice to look at, yes, and he may or may not bear a striking resemblance to Simon’s hopelessly secret crush arch nemesis, but they’re too alike in temperament to be anything more than friends. But he can see where the confusion comes from.

When he finishes making Morpheus’s regular order, he calls for his break and walks over, drink in hand, to the corner Morpheus and his terribly bad mood have taken up residence.

“Bad day?” Simon asks, placing the absurdly sweet concoction down on the table where Morpheus has sprawled all his notebooks and laptop. He’s not looking at any of it though, more preoccupied with whatever social media scandal is happening on his phone.

“Cory left me,” Morpheus growls, tapping angrily at the screen. “For Alex Burgess. Who, as you recall, is currently still in a relationship with Paul Mcguire, the unfaithful bastard.”

Simon has no idea who these people are besides Cory, who has come into the shop with Morpheus once. He doesn’t pay attention to the campus gossip. More specifically, the rich people campus gossip. Because Simon is here at the university on scholarship, working part time at the local coffee shop for a little extra spending money, and Morpheus is part of the very small, elite group of legacy family admissions.

No one, not even Penelope, Simon’s best friend since childhood, understands why he and Morpheus get along so well. Simon knows it’s partially because he’s the only one willing to make Morpheus’s stupidly complicated order, and partially because they’re both grumpy bisexuals who fall in love too easily with the wrong people.

“You were too good for him anyways,” Simon replies, plopping down into the chair next to Morpheus.

“Damn right I am,” Morpheus answers, picking up his coffee that is actually more syrup, sugar and milk than anything resembling coffee. And that was after Simon added four shots of espresso. He groans happily as he takes his first sip. “He was awful in bed anyways.”

Simon snorts. “Maybe you should try not dating rich assholes,” he offers.

“No? I should only pine for them hopelessly from across the rugby pitch?” Morpheus answers pointedly.

“Wow, you’re lucky I’m on shift or I’d tip that sad excuse for coffee into your lap,” Simon bites back, feeling the familiar heat of anger rise up in him. Because of course Morpheus knew about Simon’s complicated feelings towards Baz. But he didn’t have to be an asshole about it just because he got dumped.

Morpheus sniffles. “These jeans are Gucci,” is all he says back, before taking another sip of his coffee and letting the subject drop.

———————

Simon’s break is over before he knows it, and not a moment too soon. He and Penelope are swamped by the late-afternoon rush. Simon doesn’t know how so many people could be craving coffee this late in the day, but to each their own. Morpheus had ordered a second cup of his ungodly drink right before the rush hit, and it’s when he’s finishing up that drink and getting ready to leave that half the rugby team decides to walk into the cafe and ruin Simon’s day.

“Snow,” Baz Pitch sneers at him when he gets to the counter to order. Simon rolls his eyes.

“Let me guess, black tea for the blackness in your soul?” he retorts, smirking when Baz’s face goes tight with annoyance.

“Ooooh, this guy’s got you down to a T,” a brunette answers, coming up from behind Baz and draping an arm over his shoulders.

“Shut up Hob,” Baz replies, rolling his eyes and shrugging his friend off before turning back to Simon. “And yes, black tea, but do try not to over-steep it this time Snow.”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” the man called Hob adds, “with extra caramel syrup since Bazzy’s paying.”

“Hob I swear if you call me Bazzy one more time—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll sue me for defamation somehow, hey, can I get a couple of cake pops too?” Hob answers all in one breath. Simon gets the impression the man is something like a golden retriever in human form.

“Sure, anything for a friend of Bazzy's,” Simon chuckles before he turns to work on their order. He can practically feel Baz seething from behind him as he prepares their order.

As he’s getting ready to prepare Hob’s latte, Simon catches Morpheus out of the corner of his eye approaching the counter, and he instinctively starts preparing a drink for him as well. Seriously, how the hell could Morpheus stomach one of these, let alone three in a single sitting?

“The line is behind me, Endless,” Simon hears Baz say.

“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken, Basil,” Morpheus replies smoothly. “There is no line when you’re the favorite.”

“Who the hell says you’re the favorite?” Baz snaps

“I do,” Simon cuts in, bringing over the order, and making sure to hand Morpheus’s drink over first. He can just tell Baz is irrationally mad about the whole thing. “Unlike some other customers, Morpheus is a sweetheart.”

“Thank you, dear heart,” Morpheus practically coos at him before turning back to Baz and Hob and smirking. “The cake pops are quite good, by the way.”

“Good to know!” Hob answers cheerily. “Did you want one, by the way? Didn’t realize how large they were,” he adds holding one out.

Morpheus looks taken aback, but accepts the cake pop with a meek thank you and then with their order complete, the rugby team starts making their way towards the exit. Morpheus stares after them as they leave, cake pop still in hand.

“I think I’m in love,” Morpheus says once the cafe has totally emptied out.

“You’re what now?” Simon exclaims, then groans. “Please tell me this isn’t about the cake pop.”

“He has nice eyes,” Morpheus argues. “And if he tolerates Basil’s awful attitude, I’m practically a ray of sunshine in comparison.”

“You're not wrong,” Penelope cuts in, leaning her elbows down on the counter next to Simon. “And if Morpheus can get Hob, maybe he can help you get Baz, Si.”

“That is a terrible plan,” Simon says. “And anyways, Baz hates me.”

“It’s an excellent plan,” Morpheus replies. “And also, you’re an idiot. Basil was ready to stab me with my own fountain pen for touching you so casually.”

“He was not!” Simon squeaks.

“No, he definitely was, I’m with Morpheus here,” Penelope says. “Maybe you two should pretend to date and see how long it takes for Baz to crack.”

“Absolutely not,” Simon says at the same time Morpheus answers “That’s an excellent idea.”

Simon groans.

“I don’t have a choice in the matter do I?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Morpheus replies, biting into the cake pop.

#dreamling #hob x morpheus #dream x hob #snowbaz #baz x simon #sandman fanfic #simon snow fanfic #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling #I have literally only read fangirl and carry on so hopefully I captured the snowbaz pre-relationship dynamic okay for my first time lmaoooo

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cheapbourbon · 9 months

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‘It doesn’t fucking snow in Luxor’ was the working title for this. Really it just entertains me that of the three of them, only Jake is comfortable in the snow, Khonshu and Badr would be miserable. 🤣

Bonus PNG sexy pidgin for all your bird dad needs.

#Jake Lockley #Yehya Badr #Moon Knight #Hunters Moon #Khonshu #Jake Lockley/Yehya Badr #Moon Knight/Hunters Moon #HuntersKnight #I actually googled and the last time I could find it snowed in Ciro was in 2013 #and 2014 in Luxor #so once every hundred years or so #anyways #this is my personal relief from the pre hurricane heat and humidity #I turn the moon cult into softies in snow ^.^#more real comic coming soon once I work the pacing out for this next project have junk art till then

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girl-intrigued · 6 months

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I still find it difficult to believe how many lords and houses supported Rhaenyra during the Dance. Not in an anti Team Black kind of way but like even in the asoiaf so many fans don't like the thought of Sansa inheriting Winterfell because there is Bran and Rickon and Jon, the supposed male heirs. So, to think of the dance almost 250 years before game of thrones and so many lords supporting Rhaenyra while Aegon is the eldest son of the King seems kind of unrealistic to me. No offence but Rhaenyra was named heir before Aegon was born and Aegon is the son of the King, a son Viserys and everyone in the realm longed for, waited for years for a prince. The smallfolk definitely sees Aegon as the rightful King and Heir.

Also Viserys became King for the exact same reason that He was a man and Rhaenys a woman. The lords of the realm chose him as their King because he was a man and to believe the same lords and/or their heirs chose Viserys' daughter and not his son as their King/Queen is not so easy to digest for me at least. Did the realm change their views on patriarchy so quickly in the span of a few years?????

#aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #sansa stark #bran stark #rickon stark #jon snow #hotd #house of the dragon #pre asoiaf #grrm #house targaryen #heirs

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wallwriterstuff · 10 months

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Healing Hands ||Finnick Odair x Female!Reader||

Warnings: Explicit content, 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of non-consensual knife play and blood drinking. Descriptions of trauma, a lot of angst. Talk of Finnick’s prostitution. Fluffy ending. Female Reader so she/her pronouns and body descriptions used.

Word Count: 4280

Summary:

Finnick tries to come home to her in one piece, but when he shatters, its only her that can put him back together again.

“Don’t talk.” He grumbled.

In a matter of seconds since entering her apartment he had her pinned her against the wall, her wrists trapped above her head in one hand while the other tilted her mouth up to meet his in a bruising kiss. He pushed his knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs for him as tongue, teeth and lips collided.

“Finni-“ he cut her off with a sharp nip of her bottom lip, eyes dark as he pulled back and shifted his hand from her cheek to her chin, gripping her jaw firmly.

“I said, don’t talk. Only time I should hear you is if you’re saying your safe word. Tell me.” He ordered. She stared at him with wide eyes, frozen for a moment as her mind raced with a thousand and one possibilities as to why Finnick could be so riled up, but they fled her head as quickly as they had come when he squeezed her jaw lightly and pressed her for an answer.

“Seasalt.” She breathed. Finnick’s eyes were not the gentle, seafoam green she was used to but more of a harder shade today. Whether it was lust or something else she wasn’t sure, as he was never usually so forceful with her, but she couldn’t deny the quiet thrill it sent through her to think about what he might do like this.

“Are you using it now?” he asked. There was her Finnick. For just a brief moment he shone through, his thumb grazing her jawbone as he intently studied her expression for any sign of discomfort or discontent with the situation he’d put her in. She swallowed, taking a deep breathe in through her nose before exhaling deeply.

“No, but…are you okay to do this?” she asked. Finnick’s expression faltered for only a moment, and she saw a storm of grief and aggravation in his eyes before he pushed it all down again, his eyes flickering to her mouth, then her forehead, anywhere but her eyes in case she saw through him.

“I need this.” He huffed, smothering her mouth once more with the sloppy heat of his desire. Whether it was driven by true passion or something else she wasn’t too sure but she let it lead her for now, the underlying hint of desperation in the way he licked into her mouth telling her just how much he really did need this. To feel her. To claim her. To know she was there and whole and his. With a groan, Finnick dropped her hands in favour of getting a firm grip on her thighs, hiking her up the wall and pulling her legs around his waist. She gasped, head thunking back against the wall as Finnick buried his mouth in the crook of her neck next, biting and sucking marks into the skin like he wanted to devour her whole and keep her safe inside him.

Finnick grunted, reaching up with one hand to forcibly tug her shirt away from her collar bone, mouthing his way along the bone before biting down on the fleshy part of her shoulder with a grunt. With a soft cry, she moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair, pulling on the carefully styled strands until they were tousled beyond saving. Heat simmered in her veins as he kissed her once more, setting her down and giving the hem of her shirt a firm tug in quick succession. Panting, she lifted her arms to oblige him, and one hand immediately went to her chest to pull and pinch her nipples stiff. With quiet pants, she kept one hand tugging at his hair while the other raked down his back, making him arch into her. She moaned, feeling his free hand push down into her pants and firmly press against her before he began to rub in harsh, quick movements.

“Fuck, Finnick!” she yelped, eyes screwing closed as she threw her head back, “Fuck, t-too much!” It was a dizzying, overwhelming experience to feel so much of him at once. His mouth was hot against her neck and collar bone, his hand warm and strong on her breasts while the rough and calloused pads of his fingers created a delicious kind of friction against her clit.

“Take it.” he growled, pulling back just enough to press his forehead to hers. There was a light sheen of sweat covering both of them know, his breath coming in harsh little pants as she floundered, desperately looking for something to cling onto and ground her. The ebb and flow of her pleasure was not gentle. It felt more like a shock, quick to come and quick to go, but it was building the all too familiar sensation in her gut all the same. She gasped, pleaded, attempted to move his hand away as her hips jerked, but it was all to no avail. Finnick didn’t move until he was ready to, his fingers dipping down and slipping in with ease. She was soaking wet and squeezing at the intruding digits, close to release and losing her mind at the overwhelming sensation of him abusing that one little rough patch that always bought her such relief.

“Finnick.” She whined, flexing her hips in time with the bruising pace he had set to try and ride his fingers. Finnick’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and she almost whimpered at the sight. He was practically ethereal in the fading light of the early evening. Bronze skin and golden hair glowing in the sunset, he was firm and lean against her, smelling of salty sweat and sea breeze and something so distinctly Finnick she could never quite name. The growl in his voice when he spoke to her was enough for her to lose all sense of rhyme and reason.

“Fucking take it!”

“F-Finnick! Oh!” the noises she was made were loud and obscene. Her thoughts scattered like dust in the wind. Her knees quivered and her body nearly folded in two, jerking and spasming as her orgasm hit her hard. Finnick’s pace didn’t let up, not until he was satisfied he had completely robbed her of the ability to walk, and when his fingers left her pants he immediately began smearing her essence over her lips in a silent demand for her to clean them off. Completely drunk on pleasure as she was, she obediently opened her mouth and began to suck the remnants of her orgasm from his fingers, her eyes locked with his as they both tried to catch their breath. Though her mind was a little hazy, relaxed and sated, she became aware of the feeling of pressure against her thigh, and her hand lazily drifted down to find it was Finnick rutting against her. It stopped when her hand found the straining material at his crotch, replaced instead by her hand massaging the outline of his arousal as his head tipped back slightly and his eyes fluttered closed.

She watched the way his mouth moved, opening and closing a little as he tried to form coherent words. His throat bobbed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he exhaled sharply in a pant.

“Want you on your knees.” He rasped. She reached up to grasp his wrist, pulling his fingers from her mouth slowly until they came free with a quiet pop. His head slowly lifted, eyes watching her as she slithered out from between him and the wall and began to walk backwards, leading him by the hand into the living room. Finnick watched her every move with intense scrutiny, but obligingly helped her unbutton his shirt and push down his trousers before she pushed him onto the sofa. He landed with a huff, reaching for her eagerly as she bent at the waist to press a kiss to his lips. Finnick tried to chase her mouth before she pushed him back against the cushions, moving her mouth instead to his throat where a few gentle bites were left. She couldn’t mark him up, not when he had so many patrons who would become incensed if they thought their favourite toy had been played with by somebody else. It was an unfair part of their dynamic, but she had accepted that the price to pay for being with Finnick was having no claim to her lover whatsoever and wondering whose bed he was in on lonely nights.

Pushing the thoughts away, she focused on sucking the tension from his body via his cock.

The moment she sucked him into her mouth his hands flew into her hair, gripping tightly at the roots as a low moan of relief escaped him. She felt him throb against her tongue as she began to vigorously work him over, her tongue lapping at the underside of a swollen, sensitive head whenever she bobbed back up while her hand pumped synchronously at the base. He had been trimmed recently and the little pinpricks of hair stabbing into her fist were only a minor distraction compared to the symphony of noises escaping him. Finnick had always been one to enjoy quieter moments of intimacy, but the Capitol had changed even that about him – his patrons needed to know their pathetic attempts at pleasing him work ‘working’ after all. Not that he even managed to get it up for them without help. No, that was a privilege he tried to save for her and her alone, but there were days when the Capitol took even that from him to.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” he groaned, “Oh, oh that’s good, good fucking girl.” The rambling praise was new and it distracted her enough she wasn’t quite prepared for him to suddenly thrust up into her throat. She gagged a bit and had to pull back, taking a moment to catch her breath and clear her throat as Finnick thrust into her fist instead. His head had snapped up at the sound of her cough and he seemed tense, only relaxing again when she gave him a nod and a smile to let him know she was alright. She would have been lying if she had said that the praise hadn’t sent a bolt of need straight through her. She needed to hear it again, needed to make him feel good like that again. Closing her lips back around the leaking head of his cock, she gently tapped his hand to let him know he could control the pace, could take what he needed, and Finnick immediately set to work thrusting up into her mouth, a broken string of curses and whines escaping him.

She whimpered quietly, her jaw beginning to ache but the rest of her alight with want. When she peered up at him through her lashes, she got a halo of gold and glistening skin, and she was quite sure that nobody in this world or the next would have ever been able to say no to him. His chest heaved with every gasping breath, the toned muscles of his abdomen twitching and jumping beneath her fingers as she skated them up over his stomach. Finnick Odair was hers. No Capitolite would ever know the planes of his body better than her. No patron could ever tell him secrets he would hold as dearly as he held her own. Nobody could make him come apart like this.

Except he didn’t.

Without warning he pulled her off of him and urged her up, hands immediately shifting down to her pants.

“Don’t you want to-“

“You, need to cum in you.” He panted, his eyes pleading as her heart shot into her throat. This wasn’t the Capitol, there were no fancy injections or pills here to prevent childbirth, and she certainly wasn’t going to risk having to take those herbal teas that did terrible things to your insides just to ensure you wouldn’t add to the infant mortality rate. This wasn’t her Finnick. Her Finnick knew well how she felt about the mere thought of children in their current world and had never pushed the issue, even agreed with her.

“Seasalt.” She spoke firmly, clearly, and Finnick immediately froze, staring at her with wide, unfocused eyes. She crouched in front of him, taking her face in his hands and brushing her thumbs along his cheeks.

“I…I…”

“In another life, I’d say yes, but this is the one we live, so you do it on my back or stomach or no dice, you understand?” she said. Finnick swallowed thickly, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers and whispering an apology. She kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips, and gave him a little smile of reassurance. He reached up to cover her hands with his own, squeezing lightly.

“I understand. I’m sorry, I just…I need…I can’t…Snow…” he could barely stutter the words out, his expression more agonised than usual, and it was all the explanation she really needed. The President had threatened him many times before, and it usually resulted in some outward display of behaviour that wasn’t quite the norm for him. She pulled her hands back to push down her pants instead, letting the soft, cottony material pool at her feet so she could step out of them. Finnick kicked his pants away and was quick to welcome her into his lap, shifting so he could guide her down until she was laying beneath him. Heart fluttering at the sudden tenderness behind his gestures, she gave him an encouraging nod and smile that quickly melted away into a gasp as he pushed into her.

For a moment, they simply stayed that way, two people intertwined, chests pressed together, hearts ricocheting against each other. For a moment, there was no Capitol, or patrons, or Snow. For a moment, there was only their little home, the sound of waves lapping the shore outside their window, their own heavy breathing. Then, Finnick pulled his hips back and gave a firm thrust forward. Her legs tightened around his waist as he found himself a punishing rhythm, moving deep and strong inside of her like the pull of the tide, stealing her breath and giving her life anew with every careful movement. When he worshipped her with every inch of himself like this, she was certain he meant it when he told her he loved her.

“Oh baby.” She moaned, hips meeting his in perfect timing that only made that coil tighter and tighter. Finnick had been mouthing along her collar bone, muffling his own pleasured grunts and groans into her skin, but he pulled back just enough to skim his mouth along her ear, biting and tugging at her ear lobe.

“Right here sweetheart, so good,” he breathed, “Feels so good.” Temple pressed against hers, he increased his pace a little, squirming a bit to push deeper with his thrusts and be closer to her. He held her tighter, fingernails leaving little crescent moons on her skin, but she didn’t care. The gentle pulsing in her core and the sharp pin pricks against her skin mixed well together and simply pulled her that much closer to the edge. Another pant, a whine of her name, the blood in her veins roaring like an inferno as her heart enveloped the rest of her, an overwhelming adoration for Finnick and all his little idiosyncrasies as he dropped a hand to her clit and began to circle it. He was close then, closer than she was, but he’d stave off his own release until she came. It made a pleasant change and only egged her on towards her release knowing that he felt safe and good. Finnick had been through so much physical trauma he didn’t always get to finish, no matter how desperate he was for it.

The gentle pulsing suddenly became a crescendo, her every muscle seizing and her mouth hanging open, a choked whine the only sound that escaped her as she clenched around him hard. Finnick groaned loudly in her ear, his thrust becoming a bit more erratic as he tried to push her through her high, her fingers raking down his back again. He pulled out suddenly, desperately fisting his cock until he painted her torso white, and then he almost collapsed on his side. The only sound was their shared, heavy breathing and the creaking of the sofa as he leaned against the cushions with a puff, his arm slung across the back of the seat so he could rest his chin on his bicep and watched the sun disappear over the horizon. She simply closed her eyes, basking in the pleasant buzzing in her head while her core throbbed its way through a few after shocks.

She pretended not to hear the first little sniffle. Finnick was never one to show her how hard he took it all if he could help it, only ever wanting her to be happy and safe, but he couldn’t shield her from everything, and when she opened her eyes to view him she saw the red rimmed irises staring solemnly at the moon as if it might deliver him some sort of freedom or redemption. If there was anything she knew for sure, it was that Finnick Odair did not need redeeming.

“Snow threatened me, didn’t he?” she asked quietly. Finnick tensed, and then he sniffed, wiping his eyes on his bicep briefly and nodding once. “How bad is the situation?” her question remained unanswered for a while, and she felt her frustration begin to grow when she was forced to call his name and press him for an answer.

“He was going to kill you,” he snapped, his face full of so much horror and anguish when he faced her that it broke her heart, “He was going to kill you if I didn’t…if they couldn’t…” he sucked in a deep breath, his voice wavering as he finally confessed to all that had happened to him before he got home. “They used me, Y/N. Degraded me and beat me and cut me and I just…I had to take it.”

Immediately, her eyes raked over his form, ready to spot any sign of injury and help him soothe his wounds, however he was shiny new and the only marks on him were from her own nails. The Capitol had once more scratched their cruelty into his marrow and then erased all traces of it.

“Oh baby.” She whispered, angry and hurt and sorry all at once. She wished she could protect him better, keep him far away from Snow’s clutches, but there was no chance of it when his grip on Panem was still so vice like.

“They drank my fucking blood!” Finnick raved, standing now and starting to pace as he ran a hand through his hair.

“They what?” she sounded as shocked as she felt, her stomach curdling at the thought.

“They used a knife, they cut me and they drank from the wound, but they call us fucking animals,” he scoffed, eyes wild and brimming with self-loathing, “And I couldn’t do a thing to stop them.” Reaching for her trousers, she used it to quickly wipe away the remenants of Finnick’s release from her skin, and got to her feet to gently grasp his face between her hands.

“Stop. Don’t trap yourself there.” She ordered.

“But they-“

“Stop.” She repeated. His eyes grew wet, shame painted all over his face. His hands trembled when they reached up to grasp her wrists. She hushed him, her thumbs gently scrolling over his cheekbones.

“I feel so dirty. I just want to feel like me again.” He whispered brokenly. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she nodded in understanding and slowly leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He didn’t respond, but his eyes were closed when she pulled back and took his hands instead. He sucked in a sharp breath, looking at her with so much vulnerability that she almost let the tears pricking her eyes spill.

“Let me take care of you.” She said softly. Finnick looked at her for a moment, and then he nodded, letting her lead him to the bathroom. He stood numbly, not willing to look in the mirror at his reflection as she got the shower running. Step one would be to clean all remenants of the Capitol from his skin, whisper her praises and affirmations of love into the abused flesh to replace all the filth they’d tried to fill him with. Finnick remained silent as she washed them both down, her hands running gently over his skin and her lips pressing delicate kisses to the places her hands had been. He took the shampoo from her to help her with her hair, his fingernails scratching lightly at her scalp as he massaged in the suds.

“Is this new?” he asked. She hummed in agreement. “Smells real nice.” The compliment made her smile slightly. Only as he washed the soap away down the drain did she turn to pull him into another gentle kiss.

“It smells like you, like home,” she murmured, brushing her nose against his, “I love you, Finnick. I’m glad you’re home.” Finnick sighed slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. She felt the first wave of chill crawl over her skin as the water began to lose its warmth, so she reached for the dials and turned it off. Finnick was the one to hand her a towel, but she made sure to wrap it around herself securely in favour of drying him off with a smile – she could wait. With his towel wrapped round his waist, he patiently sat on the edge of the bed while she detangled his hair with his comb, carefully styling it to coif up just as he liked.

“Don’t stop.” He murmured. She had pulled the comb from his scalp but realised he must have found the sensation quite relaxing, as his shoulders had dropped and his eyes were closed, not a wrinkle on his forehead in sight. He smiled briefly as she began to comb his hair again with a hum.

“You know, I don’t think it’s possible to make you any more handsome.” She mused, kissing his shoulder.

He snorted slightly, “They always find a way.”

“No, they don’t. You are and always have been enough as you are.” She murmured, kissing at his spine next. Finnick shivered a little. With a hum, she let the comb fall onto the bed and moved to wrap her arms around him from behind instead. He hissed and drew back from her with wide eyes, making her frown in confusion.

“You’re still damp!” he protested. Rolling her eyes, she got to her feet and made a show of towelling off, changing into her usual pyjamas as he watched her with mild intrigue.

“Those pyjamas are new to.” he noted. He’d only been gone a week, yet that was two new changes for him to discover and adapt to. Perhaps two too many given the week he’d had. The pyjamas had been necessary, but she was feeling a tad guilty to have surprised him this much. He hated missing time with her and had confessed that when he came home and found she had moved furniture or bought new things, it made him feel left behind, like a foreign object in his own home.

“My others one were beyond saving. I would have been better off wearing my birthday suit.” She sighed. Finnick smiled faintly.

“I wouldn’t mind.” He assured her. With a grin, she shook her head and pointed to the door.

“I know you wouldn’t, now get out and let’s make some cocoa to take to bed with us, okay?” she suggested. He nodded his head, keeping his hand in hers as they exited the bedroom and went to find the necessary things. He stayed close, finding any excuse to touch her, and she leaned back into him every time with a contented hum, just to remind him she really was glad he was home.

“Marshmallows?” he asked, frowning in confusion as he closed the cupboard they were supposed to be in. She bit her lip, cheeks flushing pink.

“The little table by the armchair. I got snacky.” She admitted. He chuckled and went to retrieve them, looking happier as he dumped a handful into his mug. Only when he was curled up against her, the two of them content to simply sit in silence and appreciate the other’s presence, did he really seem to come back to her. She stroked his hair, humming a song she had sang with her mother once years ago as they baked bread in their small kitchen. With his eyes closed and his head on her stomach, he looked peaceful, like he might be able to rest for once. She knew it wouldn’t last. The nightmares always came, and she would hold him as she always did and lie once more about how he was safe now. There was only one real certainty she had. One fact that would remain constant no matter what Snow threatened or what nightmares ravaged him.

She loved Finnick Odair whole heartedly, even if she had to say goodbye so he could belong to another just three weeks later, as was their tradition. This was their cycle, the never ending loop that had become their lives, but she would endure it, for him, and one day, they would be free of this game they played. Until then…until then, she would smile, wave, and miss the man she loved while he went to love another.

#the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x female!reader #president snow #tw blood #tw knife play #writersfantasy #the hunger games fanfiction #pre-rebellion hunger games #tw prostitution

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swanparties · 2 months

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rip jay gatsby and dorian gray and victor frankenstein and coriolanus snow and jeff winger y'all would have loved lana del rey's "Money Power Glory"

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sleepy-gee · 3 months

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ache - hanahaki!coriolanus snow/sejanus plinth

is it pain, or is it love? he can't tell anymore. all he wants is the antidote.

a/n: these bitches live rent free in my head. also listen to cherry waves by deftones while writing a big chunk of this so listen to that for better vibes while reading <3

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: emetophobia (descriptions and depictions), blood, injuries, illness, cliffhanger ending

It started as a small scratch in the back of his throat, an annoying itch that brought up the constant urge to clear his throat. It brought a rasp with it, making him sound slightly more gruff and intimidating than he normally did- There's an upside to everything, right?

The scratch persisted after a few days, developing into a full-blown cough. Great. Another thing he had to hide in class, along with the rumbling of his stomach and his headaches, while also paying close attention to every lecture given. The boy had refilled his bottle of water more times than he could count, hoping it would help soothe his throat somewhat.

Tigris suggested he take a day off and stay home, but like that would do him any good- If he wants that prize, he has to be there every day. He's gone in with worse, ghastly flu's and killer migraines. It'll all be worth it in the end.

“You look miserable, though.” She pointed out one day, sliding a bowl of her famous cabbage stew in front of him.

Coriolanus stirred the mixture, bored of the conversation already. “It's just a cough and run-of-the-mill stress.”

“You know that's not what I mean.” Tigris sat down beside him with her own bowl. “You look like you've got the flu again.” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Something worse than that, even.”

Coriolanus nearly flinched away from the touch. He was so out of it nowadays. “If.. If it persists, I'll see about perhaps getting it checked out.” They both knew they couldn’t afford it, but hey, a kid can dream, right? The Plinth's do owe him a few favors.. And they'd never tell. They were too kind.. It was a risk, but so was his health.

He knew Tigris wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but it was the best he’d offer her. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Fine.”

ii.

Coriolanus began to worry himself when he started to cough up blood. The first time, he played it off as sinus irritation of some sort, but when he found himself coughing up more blood than phlegm or spit, that's when he realized it was something.

The coughing fits got longer, too, triggering his gag reflex. God, he hated it. The feeling of acid forcing its way up his throat, the shakiness it brought to his limbs. He wasn't weak, per se, just already malnourished, and not being able to keep anything down certainly didn’t help.

He'd have to excuse himself from class at least once a day and bolt down the seemingly endless marble hallways of the Academy just to make it to the bathrooms in time, not even making it to the stalls a handful of times. Blood rinses off porcelain fairly quickly, thankfully.

His mind raced with possibilities. Could this be a stomach bug of some kind? A strange flu? Something entirely different? Maybe he should get it checked out, but he'd have to be subtle when he asked for aid.

The Plinth's. Sejanus.That made his stomach churn, and his throat close up. Breakfast threatened to resurface as he thought of the Plinth boy. They were neither friend nor foe, just two students going about their days who sat next to each other- That's what Coriolanus thought, at least. Sejanus was attached like a puppy. It was endearing in a way. Pathetic in another. He showed the boy basic human kindness and got worshiped in return. It kept his ego well-fed, which was nice, considering he was starved in all other areas.

An elbow nudged his own. Speak of the devil. “You alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Sejanus asked him innocently. Shit.

Coriolanus nodded, swallowing thickly. Here comes more. “Just fine.. Please excuse me.”

iii.

Seeing a regular doctor would do him no good, he deduced as he stared at the blood-stained petal in the palm of his hand. When the hell did he manage to eat a flower? It wasn't a rose petal. He knew the shape and texture of roses like the back of his hand. Was Tigris slipping new ingredients into their meals, and he just hadn’t realized it yet?

He could worry about whatever the hell that was later, for now, he had another handful of lectures to attend to. Tigris had once again begged him to stay home- He had never missed a day in his life, the Academy would understand- but anything less than perfection was out of the question.

Maybe he was pushing it a bit. The constant purging caused him to lose a lot of his strength. Was his hearing always that fuzzy?

Between the hunger pangs and the newfound difficulty breathing, his focus was slipping, too. He needed some sort of medical intervention, but his pride got in the way. Medical intervention also meant getting a loan, and the only rich kid who seemed to like him was Sejanus.

That funny fluttering feeling again. He'd gotten better at suppressing the random gagging, finding it second nature. The scratching got worse, too, borderline painful. Like vines were clawing their way up his throat. Maybe there were some back there, given as there was a flower this morning.

Others noticed his deteriorating state, too. He could tell by the way they stared at him- Most judging, others scanning for information that could be constructed into gossip later. He wanted attention, but not this kind. The only one who actually said anything kind was Sejanus.

The last person he wanted to see. And funnily enough, the one person who made the ache a little better.

Sejanus lived the life Coriolanus deserved. The one that was owed to him by birth. He should hate him.

So why did his heart nearly stop when Sejanus grabbed his arm to stable him in the hallways after he had nearly collapsed from exhaustion?

Why do the little comments he makes have the biggest impact?

iv.

Two months. He's coughing up bunches of flowers now. Carnations, primarily. Some babies breath. A mocking white rose here and there. It's painful. His throat feels torn up beyond belief, lungs never able to gulp down enough air and stomach barely able to keep in whatever he manages to scarf down.

He can't keep going like this. He needs some sort of intervention.

A doctor's visit is too risky. He doesn't need to be known as some sort of freak, harboring a new disease. Maybe a florist? The idea makes him laugh. He has enough for the main pieces of an arrangement. Maybe he'll start spewing leather leaf and eucalyptus, then he'll be able to complete it. What a hilariously morbid thought. It wouldn't look half bad.

There's only one doctor who's crazy enough to possibly understand this, and it's a horrible option, but it's the best he's got- Dr. Gaul. How would he even approach this? “Hello, Dr. Gaul. May I bother you for a moment? I’m purging flowers.” Maybe he had just finally lost it.

If it persisted, he’d go, he told himself. Just another day or two. This was the last thing he needed, especially with exam season right around the corner. He'd lost so much valuable study time because of this goddamn disease. His grades were slipping, too. Not enough to relinquish his position as the top student, but just enough to cause his professors to pull him to the side, and Sejanus, too, the doting idiot that he was.

“I know you're saying you're fine, but I can see it in your face. You're not.” Sejanus said one day. “You look nearly as pale as your hair, and your uniform looks loose on you.”

“Your concern is flattering.” Coriolanus said, not turning away from his locker yet. Damn textbook refused to come out. Maybe it held too much. “But I can promise you, I'm just fine. Snow’s honor.”

“It's not the worst thing in the world to have someone care about you, and to accept it, y’know?” He asked with his district drawl. Why was his heart fluttering?

As much as he hated to admit it, Sejanus was right. His help, he could accept. When the other was nearby, it felt a little easier to breathe and think, his own personal painkiller. Coriolanus couldn't explain why, but the relief he felt overode his curiosity. Maybe he'd have to keep him around more often and sit closer to him in their shared classes. He wasn't awful company.

Coriolanus turned his head to look at the boy, and his world turned upside down. The black dots at the edge of his vision extended their phantom arms and pulled him down into the abyss. He was barely able to register his body hitting the ground.

When he was able to finally swim his way out of the inky abyss back into consciousness, he found himself in Dr. Gaul's office. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling him to get help for once.

He found himself lying on a surprisingly lush bed, in a dimly lit room, sheets soft as silk and pillow so plush he thought it was made of clouds. He nearly groaned with relief as he rolled over. At least his bones could rest. He couldn't day the same for his organs, which felt like they were being torn apart and rearranged with every movement he made.

"Mr. Snow", the Gamemaker' voice echoed from the end of the hallway. The sound of stilettos hitting the ground followed. How annoying. "You've found yourself in an interesting situation."

"Tell me about it." He wanted to say, but even moving his tongue the slightest made him feel nauseous.

"Hanahaki, we call it. The disease of love. Flowers grow in the lungs, squeezing the life out of you one vine at a time." Dr. Gaul said. "Makes you wish the butterflies in your stomach thing were real, hm? Sounds a lot more preferable."

"Love?" Coriolanus swallowed thickly. Love?

"Love. Unrequited.. Or at least, that's what's thought."

Love was the cause of it? Really? That was just pathetic, really. “I don't love many.”

“That's what you think.” Dr. Gaul switched on the lights, causing Coriolanus to squint. They were obnoxiously bright. “The sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner we can get you feeling better. In the meantime, we have medication that should help the flowers shrivel up in your poor lungs. It won't dispose of them completely, but..” She handed him a pill bottle.

Coriolanus eyed the bottle carefully before unscrewing the lid and popping two into his mouth. He barely managed to swallow it before an onslaught of carnations nearly as red as his blood spewed from his lips, falling into the trash can conveniently in front of him. “.. I may have failed to mention that one of the side effects is instantaneous nausea. It's still in your system, don't worry.”

Coriolanus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, careful not to stain his precious school uniform with any of the miserable fluids. "What will cause it to disappear completely?"

"Having the feelings requited, of course. Better fix yourself up quick, you have a guest." The doctor taunted before leaving the room, dimming the lights slightly on her way out. Thank God.

A few moments later, a distressed Sejanus came rushing into the room, looking almost as pale as his classmate. "Coryo?"

"Hey." He attempted a grin. It looked more like a grimace.

"Woo.. Thank God you're okay." He kneeled by Coriolanus' bedside. "You had me worried there. Your skin went all pale and.. You collapsed. Coughed up some blood. Did she say what it was? Are you okay?" It was pure word vomit. The fluttering feeling returned in his heart.

"Yeah.. I know what it is. She gave me some medication." Coriolanus shook the pill bottle, not willing to offer any more information.

"Well, what is it? If I can ask." Of course he would ask.

".. Some silly disease."

Sejanus didn't skip a beat. "Is it curable?"

".. She says so, but between you and me? I don't trust her word on anything regarding this."

"I don't blame you, Coryo." Sejanus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away a strand of drying blood/saliva that sat by Coriolanus' lips. The gesture made the flowers threaten to resurface. "What has she said?"

Coriolanus found himself leaning into the lingering touch against his will. ".. You won't believe me."

"Try me. I saw what I believe was a cross-hybrid between a lady bird and hedgehog." Sejanus snorted, bringing a smile to the others' lips.

".. Unrequited love."

vi.

After a grueling few hours of recovery, he was dismissed to glass, Dr. Gaul having granted him a full pardon like he was a criminal or something. Sejanus greeted him outside of the class, making sure to pay him special attention. The boy became his confidante for everything involving the disease. Somehow, it felt easier to talk to Sejanus about it. About everything, actually. He should've given the boy a chance earlier. He had a nice smile. And a nice laugh.

The vines in his lungs constricted. And that's when it hit him.

#fanfiction #the hunger games #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #mlm #hanahaki #pre canon

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