[healingjuice]

[weltenwellen]

Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

[wcrriorhearts]

"i did not need to know that", annie mutters under her breath and lifts a brow, gaze lifting up to meet finnick's. he is one cocky bastard and extremely full of himself, something she will not support by swooning over him like all of the superficial girlies that seem to enjoy his presence at parties. even though he is undoubtedly incredibly handsome, it has already gotten enough to his head and she doesn't need to tell him that as well. if anything, he needs a little bit of a damper to remember he's just a boy, not a god. a boy who is apparently attending lavish parties, right before he's going to send her to her death in the arena. at least one of them is enjoying themselves here.

his throw with the bracelet is impressive, she gives him that, but when she turns to face him, she can clearly say that he is on something again. his pupils don't react to the light as they should and once again she questions how much fun he actually has here and how much is facade. it also makes her immediately weary of him, because she has lived with an ad dicted uncle for ten years now and suffered his abuse, knowing that depending how bad this is for finnick, he will not be able to mentor her at all. addicts are usually far too self centred and controlled by their drug issues to care about anyone else, let alone capable of doing so.

"maybe if you'd take less drugs, you wouldn't walk into furniture and your legs wouldn't hurt", she points out but takes off his other bracelets, which look ridiculously expensive. she twists one between her fingers to assess the gems, coming to the conclusion they're real sapphires. they're chosen wisely to make his eyes pop and also have almost the same color as the ocean in four during summer days. everything at the capitol seems calculated. "what happens today? more...pruning while i am drugged into oblivion?" the memory still makes her shudder, or rather the lack thereof. it makes her want to crawl out of her own skin and claim back what used to be hers.

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐍 is written all over her face, as it is the rest of the people he talks to from district four. odair, nineteen, victor of the hunger games, sex symbol slut and well on his way to becoming an addict, it wasn't even something his father could accept. he tries not to think about his family, wound no longer fresh but still bright red and puss - filled, infected as finnick waits and hopes his dad ( or at least his sister ) will come back to his home in the victor village, apologising for their abrupt and somewhat cruel departure. annie could whisper under her breath all she pleased at his unnecessary comments — though odair was sure she had been the one to ask — it didn't change the fact that he was her mentor and would be by her side up until the games.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❛❛ yeah ? ❜❜ he quirks his brow with a grin; she didn't need to be a supporter of his habits, but finnick hadn't even wanted to take what that creep gave him. in addition, what happened to apologise for being impolite because what he did was none of her business. ❛❛ not why my legs hurt, but whatever ❜❜ he would need to swing by remake in the morning, but that little detail was one he'd leave unsaid. cresta is free to imagine whatever she likes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ with his wrists finally free of chains, he's on to removing rings, then to his ears. it's easy enough to remove the backing, but painful to pull out the bar, blood that had coagulated clinging to the metal, more ready to spill — just another reason to go by the hospital and be repaired; no one likes damaged goods unless they're the ones breaking him. ❛❛ you'll meet prep, then get ready— ❜❜ he leans down, in a motion akin to leaning for a kiss, but instead holds out of the three necklaces decorated similarly to the bracelets for annie to remove while he talks. ❛❛ that's all before ten; after that, it's parading in front of the capital, then we’ll have a look at the training centre ❜❜ hopefully he’s gotten that all in correct order…

[wcrriorhearts]

he looks grotesque in his clothes, the jewelry reflecting the light as he sheds it, because annie remembers what he used to look like back home. finnick odair was always popular, a courtesy of his good looks and career life, but he always fit in with his style. right now he looks like a typical capitol fuck boy, but she assumes he just learned to adapt when he is here. unlike his tributes, finn has been to the capitol many times before and understands their way of living much better. to annie all of this is absurd, a lifestyle she wouldn't even want to have if she could afford it. as a little girl, she grew up extremely wealthy and had all the luxuries anyone could wish for, but none of that came remotely close to what she sees here now.

"people usually do that in their rooms and not in public areas", she says just as nonchalantly and watches him struggle with the bracelet on his wrist. "you're very loud in the middle of the night. i wanted to make sure carter wasn't on his way to off me in my sleep. have you never opened a bracelet before?" she steps closer and reaches out to unclasp it, before he rips the fine jewelry in two with his attempts. maybe he wouldn't care. who knows if he has to pay for anything they make him wear here. annie notices that her wrist no longer hurts after her 'procedure' and that all bruises have vanished along with it. even though it is pleasant not to be in pain anymore, it feels like all traces of what has been done to her for 10 years were erased to wipe away all guilt off her uncle's hands.

"what is this place? why aren't there...guards?" the lack of security still confuses her, though she assumes there has to be an invisible system in place that will prevent them from venturing too far. given she only just woke up not too long ago and doesn't know how she got here, none of this makes sense yet. she puts the bracelet on the counter and sits on one of the barstools. "is there a light switch somewhere or are we going to keep sitting in the dark?"

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 shrugs. plenty had seen him nude, and it wasn’t as if he’d been expecting anyone to be awake; he certainly wouldn’t be in their shoes. but whatever that guy had given him felt like caffeine straight to the vain, where the needle jabbed in still sore, along with his legs, especially where he crashed into the chair — man, how he would rather be asleep right now. ❛❛ he won’t try to kill you ❜❜ there were of course precautions in place to prevent such a thing. while annie’s door might not have been locked, her district partners had been; only one can leave while both mentors aren’t out of their rooms, the other locking atomically. the windows could open, but a force field prevented anything but wind from passing through. anything sharp could only leave the drawer when it was a mentor reaching for it — plenty had already tried to kill themselves and the other contesters, and if by some miracle that did happen, there would no longer be any family to win the games and return home to. ❛❛ usually, everyone’s busy undressing me, so it’s never me removing them ❜❜ holding out his arm; sea eyes watch as annie effortlessly removes the bracelet he’d been just about ready to break.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❛❛ the fourth floor of the tribute tower ❜❜ he glances over to the large windows, which provide what little light they have from the booming capital. not the best view, but they can still see out pretty far. lifting the delicate chain between his fingers, finnick grabs the removed bracelet and, in one swift movement, throws it across the gigantic room, hitting the motion - sensing light switch with exact precision. ❛❛ legs hurt ❜❜ he quickly supplies with a grin. bright room making the bags under his eyes more prominent, and the marks on his neck look redder. finnick then lifted his other arm for annie, still decorated with a couple more bracelets. ❛❛ give me a hand ? ❜❜

[sswork-arc]

› 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

go to pinterest and search: “celebrity”, “outfit”, “quote”, and then “aesthetic”. put the first result of each to get your vibe !

tagged by: @soulwaned thank you !!

tagging: @wcrriorhearts , @deadlynightshcde , @belovedblossoms , @rcmancedawn and anyone else who wants to join in ~

[isutoburu-archive]

"i am counting on that rematch of ous!" he would work hard and become stronger until then! ace has a fair idea now where he needs improvements but he knows his own stubborn mind , he still would continue to be reckless , likely challenging one of the other two yonko. deep down , he already has set his mind on white beard , had been like that ever since fishman island.

the fire fist stretches his arms and legs a little, he feels still sore from their fight but his heart is light and he's ready to go on. "do you mind if i take a nap?" it's out of question, the raven-haired knows the familiar exhastiong slowly washing over his body. arms fold behind his head as he lays back down.

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍 is contagious as he thinks about their future. sure, ace will leave come morning for who knows how long, but he will return ! wano would be freed, yamato would be free and finally, leave the island. when that happened, he’d go with ace on all his adventures, even joining the spade pirates. after years of despair, suddenly yamato’s future was looking bright, something to finally have hope for…

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❛❛ huh ? no way you’re tired again ! ❜❜ the taller frowns slightly, watching ace lay back. there was only a couple hours till morning — until he’d be alone again — but if ace was really getting tired… ❛❛ only for a bit ! i still wanna talk, okay… ? ❜❜

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 rules when entering a place of worship; allowed to view marvel statues, mirrors of gods, but always at a distance, followers unworthy to blemish such creations with human touch. of course, such restrictions would apply to a man like doflamingo, only allowed to be touched when he was the one demanding so. even when it was his adored corazón, the single man in the world who shared the king's blood, who often got away with things others would be slaughtered for, there is only so much rocinante could get away with. with a mood as changing as the tide, and violence that knows no bounds, those who anger such a god can only pray, hoping their creator would grant them mercy. doflamingo wouldn't kill his younger brother, his usefulness unbounded as long as he continued to remain as he was, silent, compliant, and always obedient at his maters side. everyone in the family knows as much, that corazón would never be cast aside as long as he stayed as he was. but he wasn't immune to an older brother's wrath, so as a hand reached out as doffy tried to brush past, he snapped.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ turning in a swift and precise motion, doflamingo looks ready to strike — make quick work of roci just like he had their father all those years ago. he sees red, ignoring signed apologies as he continues to approach, like cornering prey, only stopping when his brother is against a wall. ❛❛ rocinante ❜❜ he begins, hand reaching out as he grabs the other's jaw, blunt nails and palm digging into soft skin. ready to bark something out to seal the younger fate. but instead, hidden eyes squeeze shut; there is no point in killing his brother over a bad mood, and this he knows, but oh, how there are so many other factors that encourage his desire to see roci's blood splattered on the pristine white of the wall he's pressed against. ❛❛ I'm sick of this— ❜❜ his head tilts towards the hand previously signing apologies, his grip tightening. ❛❛ if you're sorry, say so with words. ❜❜

@belovedcorvid continued from here !

[belovedcorvidarchive2024]

[SNAP] The receiver innocently asks about the sender’s well-being, and the sender responds with an angry outburst, snapping at them to mind their own business. ( with doffy 👀 )

❣ | Memes :: This One | Don't You Dare Pity Me

----

A distant part of Rocinante wondered if this outburst was punishment for something he'd done days ago, quietly resented and held close, or if it had nothing to do with him, no trigger at all. With his brother, it was never easy to tell for sure... until it was. Which would have been worse?

In retrospect, it was a very bad decision to reach out and try to touch him as the other turned to push past him, ignoring the question he'd signed once, twice. A holdover, perhaps, from when they were both small and his brother could still be comforted, or reasoned with; for sometimes, in spite of knowing better, when he looked at Doffy he still saw that small, deeply angry kid that needed somebody. He'd been formidable even then, the same kind of unpredictable, but now he was dangerous. Now angry hands with their razor-edged, wicked precision struck out at the hand he'd offered in concern, a steel trap with a hair trigger snapping shut on something unsuspecting and bird-bone thin.

He backed up in lock-step with Doffy as he moved toward him, wide amber eyes watching his face incredibly, unabashedly close - keeping his own face as neutral as he could manage while dread burned up through his veins like a venom. Offending hand still outstretched, he didn't even initially noticed that the other had signed repeatedly ' i'm sorry, i'm sorry ' . Part of him, of course, thought that maybe he had been made: that his cover had been blown and now his brother was going to get back at him for it personally, before making him into some kind of example. Making that kind of worry visible would be a definite death sentence though, so he would have to navigate incredibly carefully in the next few moments.

[wcrriorhearts]

the noise of something crashing startles annie in the midst of her breakdown. she has not taken time to explore the room, let alone anything outside yet, so she isn't sure if this is a hotel situation, of if she is sharing the place with the other tributes. maybe they're already starting to kill each other off. when there's no second crash from outside the door, annie holds her breath and listens closely. clearly someone is moving there, but it appears as if the loud noise was an accident. tentatively and without knowing why, she rises from where she has been sitting on the floor and slowly makes herself towards the door, hand hovering above the knob once she has reached it.

for some reason, annie expected the door to be locked. the capitol treats them like spectacles, not humans, so she was almost sure they'd lock them in like animals in a zoo at night, so they cannot move freely and potentially endanger the games with their actions. it would be so easy for them to just choose suicide over this, or start eliminating their competition before the show has even started. when the door gives way at a gentle tug, annie is surprised, but not comforted by it. no matter how pretty and luxurious the place is, it's still a cage, or they'd be able to walk out and go home.

to her surprise it is odair who has apparently walked into furniture on his way in and they stare at each other in the dim light of what appears to be a communal area. there is a fruit basket on a table and no doubt snacks in the fridge. dirty dishes in a sink indicate that carter woke up long before her and ate, or perhaps it was the other mentor. looking at finnick, he just came back from a night out. his outfit indicates that much and here is annie, standing awkwardly in the doorway in a pyjama she never put on herself, cheeks blotched from crying and tear stained. for some reason it is then that she notices her hair has been trimmed and her fingernails painted. what a farce. "what are you doing?"

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 each of his fingers, three bracelets per wrist, multiple golden chains around his neck that dipped down to his bare chest and an earring for each ear — blood from the needle forced into his flesh before the jewel was marring their iridescent surface — he sat wearing more in gold than fisherman would see in their lives. finnick’s previous outfit was gone, now dressed in nothing but what looked to be extremely uncomfortable dress pants. he stayed still for a long moment, each task he had set before himself currently too daunting to begin.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ trying a couple of times, finnick is unsuccessful with unclamping the miniature clasp holding the bracelet to his wrist with one hand, so he brings it up to his mouth, holding the chain between his teeth in an attempt to make things easier. still no use, and as he’s just about to give up, one of the four doors opens, and miss cresta steps out. she’s dressed much more appropriately for the time than he is, though he can tell from experience that her clothing isn’t that of which she choose herself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛ undressing ❜❜ he replies with so much nonchalance that one would almost think it was annie who stumbled in half naked, causing a ruckus at two am. but finnick only shrugs, lowering his arm as he smiles, giving his tribute a wink. everything about the teen is ridiculous; he is in absolutely no position to be as confident as he is, but that had always been a part of the famous odair charm. he could smirk and wink his way out of any situation, conversation, interview, and even the hunger games. ❛❛ and you ? I mean, you’re free to watch, but you’ll be needing rest for today ❜❜ he can see clear as day that she’s rattled by the fact she’d been unconscious and stripped bare for a group of strangers, treated less than human because that’s exactly what she is to these people; — they both are — live stock.

[weltenwellen]

Ruth Awad, from “Let me be a lamb in a world that wants my lion”

[herztakt]

@sleeplesswork ; closed starter

trafalgar's figure rests against the balcony's railing, golden eyes watching the buzzing streets of the city underneath them, fingers tapping impatiently against the material. the third corazon is often a man with thin patience when it comes to obvious threats, it's something that has been grown over the years within him. he knows his impatience amuses his master, especially since law knows his place ; he might gladly do something but he'd never act against the will of the tall blond. however, doflamingo knows that carefully groomed cruelness is there, trafalgar would act in an instant once the order is given to finish it for the family. the most recent headlines in the newspaper are almost hopeful maybe, he finally can.

"why's it so difficult for the world government to handle those annoying children? they will only ask you again to take care of it, as always, making the warlords handle their ugly businesses. how have they maintained their rule for so long?"

there's a hiss, but he has no issues showing his distaste, no if they are alone the man from the north is much more open to expressing them. he wonders how many more years doflamingo wants to wait, for that change he speaks of to come, so he'd finally set the next plans in motion. it feels like an eternity since they took over dressrosa so effortlessly.

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃 in a tangle of silk sheets the finest berry can buy, the king hums, his bare skin soaking in the warm dressrosan sun. he cares little for his corazón entering his chambers, still nude from the last guest who's duty had been entertainment. hidden eyes watch the younger man, his grin lazy but amused, little law always busy brooding over one minuscule thing or another — today he seemed annoyed on his master's behalf, the worst generation ( nothing but a bunch of meddlesome children, really ) kicking up another fuss which will eventually be pushed onto the warlords to deal with, therefore dumped on doflamingo.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ he laughs a rich and velvety sound, laying his head back against the abundance of pillows. ❛❛ come now, corazón, they provide us with a fun … pass time ❜❜ there are many perks of being king, all the lavishes diligently indulged by the blonde, but he's impatient, and it's inevitable being the king of one measly country won't please a god for long… but currently, he's satisfied, though it's anyone guess how long. ❛❛ perhaps a drink, you're much too tense for so early in the day ❜❜ it is neither a question nor an offer; doflaimngo is demanding law fix his mood before it dares to put a damper on his.

[wcrriorhearts]

annie retreats to the compartment that has been given to her, which is much more luxurious than the place she has rotted in for the past 8 years. her actual home used to be lovely. her father and mother were two of the richest people in four and she had everything she could have wanted, but it was a far fall from there. having the privacy of her own bedroom here is already a win, if only this was the compensation for killing her in a few weeks. makes her appreciate it a lot less. nonetheless, annie sits down on the soft mattress and pulls down the blinds on the window, just so she doesn't have to watch the landscape zoom past in dizzying speed. everything about this situation is awful, but she chooses to ignore it for a few hours. she has been fed for the first time in days, the bed is soft and she is utterly exhausted, so she allows herself to curl up in bed and fall asleep for the rest of the train ride, because there really isn't much else to do anyway.

the arrival at the capitol is overwhelmingly fake and staged. everyone is painfully cheerful and hyper, which puts annie off immediately. the tributes are shipped off to a facility to make them look presentable and annie already dreads it after finnick's account of things. they are cross with her when she tries to fight the injection they are trying to give her, but annie is not strong and so she can feel a needle enter her neck after a brief struggle. the effect kicks in almost instantly; the whole room spins before her eyes and she falls unconscious, oblivious to the work that they do on her in the following hours. maybe it is better that way.

when she wakes, she is in a comfortable bed, dressed in comfortable clothes and it is night outside. her heart hammers in her chest in a panic, because she doesn't know where she is, nor what has been done to her. frantically, annie searches her body for the signs of abuse she has born on her skin for years, but they are all gone. her wrist is intact, her body - except for her head - entirely hairless and she has been scrubbed clean. a beauty procedure others would perhaps paid for, but annie feels violated. they treat tributes like animals and even though all of her wounds are gone, she has never felt more raw and torn open than right now. crouching in a corner next to the twin bed, she sobs, knees pulled up to her chest, fighting the urge to claw off the perfectly pink skin they have covered her scars with.

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, the reaction of these crowds is always so. finnicks stylist had been correct; people went crazy for odairs messy look, drooling at the simplisticy, they couldn’t even see as much skin as they were used to, but what they could was more than enough to catch any eye. rows of brightly coloured wigs assault their gaze, walking through loud cheers and screams. it is a sight no one from a district could expect, especially with the context that these thousands of people are excited to watch them die — he doubts those from the capital have ever wanted in their life, never known hunger, hard work and certainly have never faced fear. — annie and cater are taken to one car while the two victors another; the rest of the day after that’s a blur. the drive is painfully slow, everyone filling the streets, fighting to catch a glimpse before the cameras can.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ finnick is taken to a large hotel while erik is chauffeured to the tributes tower. the hotel smells nice, and strangely clean; floors are carpeted with lavish red, polished marble titles peeking from beneath. there’s no one working, so his best guess is this whole place has been rented out. a loud ding pulls sea glass eyes to the elevator doors sliding open, out stepping an old man. his hair is dyed blue, falling out and pushed back into a style to hide the fact, his suit similar in colour, he has no strange tattoos, but his skin is pulled so tight it looks ready to pop. his voice is just as hard on the ears as his appearance to the eyes. finnicks stomach churns, but he smiles nonetheless. his client laughs; he says he owns this building and decided to kick everyone out just for odair, so finnick pretends to feel honoured. the man is some head game marker. he calls finnick over, wrapping some lavish necklace around his neck, and then the door closes, and they’re headed up to the top floor. he would like so badly to run, but the teen knows far better. it’s his job to entertain this man, and he won’t fail.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ returning to the tribute tower late, everyone seems to have long gone to bed. the elevator ride to floor four feels too long, his skin too clammy, and the jewels he’s been given freezing against his warm skin. his legs are wobbly as he crashes against one of the pulled out chairs, table still messy from a dinner he missed. finnick winced, a mixture of pain and the loud sound catching him off guard. miraculously, he stays upright, walking over to the kitchen counter and sitting atop it. then his eyes are drawn to all the doors, one for each mentor and tribute; they don’t indicate who might be inside or which is allocated to odair. removing all this jewellery and entering his room without disturbing anyone is certainly going to be a fun task…

[wcrriorhearts]

she has almost expected him to be at the beach, because it is the one place that seems to recharge his battery. finnick odair is a district 4 child through and through, born and bred by rogue waves and sandy beaches. her has salt water in his veins and no place brings him more serenity than the sea. annie was never like that. her parents kept her away from the ocean when she was a child and even though she learned to love it later on, the capitol has ruined that love again. now she is afraid of the water and even gets startled by the sound of it, especially when the sea roars in stormy nights. it is no surprise to her, however, to find him sitting in the open door, oblivious to the cold night air that floods the living room.

summer has reached its tentative wings out across panem, but the nights still get cool. annie is glad she brought her blanket as she approaches, sitting down on the floor next to him. "hey", she greets back quietly, smiling at him in the dim moonlight. she wraps one of the corners of the blanket around his shoulders, because she can see the goosebumps on his bare arms, snuggling close to him. the silence that stretches between them now is not as uncomfortable as the one previously and so she just sits quietly, listening to the waves crash against the shore behind the dunes that hide the sea from view. when she tries to forget about the arena, she can understand why it helps him calm his mind down.

"i am sorry i asked you so bluntly. but i felt like we need to talk about it, you know? every time i reject your advances to sleep with me, you look a little hurt, but i do it, because i had suspicions about what you do at the capitol and didn't want you to relive that trauma at home. can you understand that?" her voice is quiet as she speaks, her hand finding his again and she laces their fingers. "i love you, finn. and because of that, i care much more about your well being than sleeping with you. i don't need it to be with you. i understand sex is a currency at the capitol, but you don't need to buy my love with it. so i need to know how you feel when you come home and are with me. do you like it? or does it secretly make you feel bad?"

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 stretches between them, if it can even be called that, the ocean and wind more than happy to speak as they don't. If he closes his eyes, it almost feels like they are on the sand together, watching as the waves pull back, only to come crashing down again. that's something desperately finnick would like, for the pair to run off to the beach, climb on one of the no - trespassing docks and dump into pitch - black depths. even if annie just sat safely on shore, he'd be happy, but it would worry her, in the dark, unable to see if he swims out far. finnick was born a man of the sea, with beauty taken from the ocean herself; he's made of salt and brine, while the capital expects him to be sugar. that's what the capital needed him to be: sugar, someone sweet, easily devoured by even the most underserving recipients. but he was a victor, a murderer, a survivor; finnick wasn't what they needed, and that's something he suffered for. but that was his secret, not his grotesque sexual history or his love for annie; finnick odair was bitter, lethal in large doses, something no one was allowed to know but himself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ finnick allows himself to lean against annie, the cold practically seeping from his skin. there are parts of him that still don't understand, just like how he'll sit and comfort annie through her harder moments and never realise what it was like to watch her district partner beheaded, how it felt for the ocean to turn her back on him. every aspect of intimacy had been ruined; he couldn't be home and not have what happened in the capital linger over his head. can't not think about his games and how many pillows he was forced against. annie has always been too smart, and she's absolutely right; he'd been trying to buy her love with sex, and the realisation of that has so many emotions flooding to the forefront of his mind. he feels terrible and probably has been making annie feel that way.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❛❛ i- ❜❜ bringing a rough hand to his face, he wipes at his eyes, letting his palm dig into soft skin. it takes a minute before he talks again, voice sounding unsure— when has anyone asked if he's alright being close to him, how their touch makes him feel ? ❛❛ I like it- I like being with you. I should like sex with you. ❜❜

[soulwaned-arch-deactivated20260]

one  after  another  after  another.  it  was  like  a  revolving  door  of  vistors  that  she  didn't  want  -  all  to  tell  her  the  exact  same  thing.  her  eyes  rolled  and  she  looked  away,  settling  her  gaze  on  the  far  wall  so  that  she  wasn't  actively  glaring  at  finnick  while  listening  to  him.  how  many  times  was  someone  going  to  tell  her  those  very  same  things  she  heard  now?  her  fingers  curled  into  fists  at  her  side.  she  wouldn't  lash  out.  

❛❛  what  if  it  was  annie?  ❜❜      katniss  knew  it  was  cruel  to  ask,  to  put  that  possibility  into  his  head  but  it  was  all  she  could  grasp  at  in  the  moment  when  it  came  to  comparisons.      ❛❛  would  you  be  okay  with  just  being  told  that  you  couldn't  see  her?  ❜❜      her  head  turned  back,  she  let  herself  look  at  him  again.      ❛❛  you'd  just  accept  it?  ❜❜                    

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 wouldn't do much; no one in the world could say anything to make the girl's pain disappear. the only person she wanted to hear 'it would be okay' from was currently strapped to a bed, spewing all sorts of terrible words he'd been tortured into believing true.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ her words are sharp, lashing out, but finnick doesn't mind; she has all right not to want to hear whatever crappy condolence he has. he got annie back, and katniss lost peeta she must hate him as much as she does the rest of the adults are telling her it's for the best.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛ I don't know, katniss ❜❜ he's thought about it, after seeing peeta the idea crossed his mind every hour. he really shouldn't tell her the first thing that crossed his mind when he imagined such a scenario, but it's probably already crossed the teenager's mind. ❛❛ …if she'd come back and said she wished I was dead, I’d die, but what if she got better and blamed herself— ❜❜ emotion manages to bleed into his voice, but his expression remains flat. mags is gone. he hadn't spoken to anyone in his family in years; they were dead for all he knew. annie cresta is his entire reason for being alive so long. he couldn't have pushed through countless nights if it weren't for her waiting at home for him. ❛❛ i don’t know what I’d do… sorry, I don't have anything more than that, probably why they didn't ask me to talk to you. ❜❜

[sswork-arc]

if mercy’s abound, I’ll be safe, I’ll be sound; and the devil won’t know of the love I just couldn’t let go.

[wcrriorhearts]

it is a hard topic to discuss for both of them, more so for him though, and annie isn't sure if she has done it the right way. maybe she shouldn't have been the one to force him to say anything, perhaps she should have waited until he was ready, but they have been close for over two years at this point with no word from him, so she isn't sure he would have ever said anything voluntarily. which is understandable, because even though her abuse was different when she still lived with her uncle, she still hated to speak of it in front of others. it made her feel raw and unraveled, vulnerable and weak. it must feel similar to him, though finn might also be worried that she will leave him now in the wake of finding out the truth.

when he says that he will go downstairs, annie knows he is trying to flee from the situation and her first instinct it to tell him to stay and continue this conversation, but she accepts that he needs space to gather his thoughts. finn never reacts well to pressure when his emotions run high, so she only nods and lets him go. there is no way she will find sleep tonight, until she knows they will be alright, so once he has left the room, she just lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how they will proceed from here. her own heart still aches at the thought that so many women and men have touched the body that should be hers. even though annie knows none of that is his fault, it doesn't change the fact that it makes her sad.

he doesn't return upstairs and after a long time - or at least it felt like it - annie decides to go looking for him. a chill breeze comes in through the window that tastes like salt and she decides to take her blanket along, wrapping it around her shoulders to stay warm. her naked feet barely make a sound as she patters down the stairs to the kitchen and living room, no light indicating where he is, aside from the silver sheen of moonlight that illuminates the hallway. "finn?", annie asks quietly, not wanting to startle him in the dead of night, because perhaps he has just fallen asleep on the couch.

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 the room doesn't make him feel better, but it at least means finnick doesn't have to keep looking at annie's expression, doesn't have to keep talking. he's always been loud, non - stop conversation, especially with those he cares about; he probably would have continued, sharing details he wanted to keep to himself. there were some things he wanted to share: how he thinks about annie every single moment apart, or the way he's trying to cut back, avoid going to a party high and instead going straight back to his hotel after a client. what else does annie suspect ? finnick isn't entirely sure he wants to know that just yet. his stomach is still flipping as he makes his way down what feels like endless stairs. and as his bare feet hit the cold tile, he suddenly wishes he was back with annie, feeling her warmth. but rather than retreat to their bedroom, he walks to the sink, staring down at the small pile of dishes he decided to leave out.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ finnick doesn't realise how long he'd been gone, having left the sink at some point to hide in the living room. he opened the front door, letting the house flood with the ocean's salty breeze; even from here, if he held his breath, he could hear the louder waves as they crashed. the urge to leave the houses, walk down to the shore and feel the cold water against his skin is strong; it's a feeling that never really goes away but was particularly strong in that moment. outside is cold and pitch black save what little of the land the moonlight cast a soft glow on. he won't go, knowing it will worry both mags and annie, so instead, he sits at the door, feeling the cold air against his skin, night clothes doing little to block it out. he stays like that, trying to catch a glimpse of the ocean from where he is to little avail. finnick doesn't even notice he's so far gone in his own mind until that familiar soft voice is calling for him; for a second, he almost thinks it was his imagination, the wind conjuring up a sweet sound. it takes a second to register that he'd probably been gone so long that annie decided to come looking for him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎leaning so the couch no longer obscures his vision of the hallway, he sees her there, worried and wrapped in a blanket for warmth — it's only then he feels the goosebumps freckling his skin. ❛❛ annie… ❜❜ he rubs his hand along his arm, warming a little, but makes no attempt to move. the floor's nice, and if he stands, he can already tell his legs will fail on him. ❛❛ hey ❜❜

[wcrriorhearts]

the breaking of her heart at his words should have been audible, but it cracks in two silently when he admits that he hates it, solidifying what she has already assumed. there is a sickening sense of relief in her to know that he is not willingly cheating on her whenever he is away, but she pushes it aside quickly, ashamed for even feeling that way. he deserves so much better than this, but she now understands why his family acts like they no longer know him. they must know what happens at the capitol and judge him for it, which makes annie furious on his behalf, because how dare they. there is no need to ask why he feels obligated to do it, because there is only one reason for victors to dance to the tune of snow's fiddle and that is fear. he has people to protect and she is one of those people. what a sobering thought to know that she is bringing this on to him, even though she never expected him to, nor demanded his protection. but that is the kind of good hearted, noble person finn is.

"maybe now you understand why i hesitate to sleep with you. i have...suspected it for a long time, even before we started being together like this and i...don't want to be like them. i don't want you to have to think of the capitol when you're with me. this is nothing i need to love you." even though he has never shown it, annie understands there must be a certain degree of trauma attached to intimacy for him, even when it is with someone he loves, even when he initiates it. and she'd rather let him work through that trauma with time and space than pressure him into swallowing it down, just because they started dating and he thinks she expects him to sleep with her. There are more things she wants to ask, but she doesn't. She knows what she needed to and everything else is for him to talk about when he is ready. "look at me, finn", she says softy, lifting his chin with her free hand so that he has to raise his gaze. "this changes nothing. except giving me a better understanding of what you might need from me."

[sswork-arc]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 and caring about someone had become tantamount to having intercourse, having that intimacy. it was a belief too deeply rooted for a single conversation, even a hundred, to wash away. it’s just something that comes with relationships; it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t want it ( he never wants it ) because finnick will in order to maintain what small connections he has. mags is all the family he has left, the rest locking him from his own home only for the once teen to return to their belongings gone. after winning the games, you aren’t supposed to work or go back to school, so eventually those connections fizzled out. then annie crept up on him, and now odair would be willing to die if it guaranteed her happiness, if she’d visit his gravestone from time to time, go to the ocean where his body would be resting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ she’s speaking again, and despite his head feeling like it’s submerged underwater, he listens. annie admitting she’s suspected it somehow feels worse than the act of telling her himself when he’s done so much to keep it secret. sure, he knew she’d catch on to him not liking all his secret trips to the capital, but finnicks always explained that as he gets homesick relatively easily — which he does. was it too quixotic to hope they could go their entire relationship without her catching on ? to have annie ignore all the signs, kiss over the marks left by others, hold his hand even when he tries to pull away ? his mind supplies that she still doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t want to explain, doesn’t know how and doesn’t ever want to have a conversation about this again.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wet ocean - coloured eyes meet hers, nodding softly. ❛❛ yeah, i know ❜❜ his lips twitch in a rather pathetic attempt at a smile, and all too soon, he’s pulling away from all points of contact, getting off the bed. though a moment later, he’s leaning back down, planting a chaste kiss against the top of annie’s head, always finnick to try and comfort others rather than himself, though perhaps the small gesture does bring the older boy some comfort, as he stays like that for a long moment before whispering against brown hair. ❛❛ you should go to bed; I’m just gonna go downstairs for a bit ❜❜