elijah hewson
ryan mcmahon
josh jenkinson
robert keating / bobby skeetz
steve harrington
jonathan byers
robin buckley
finn wolfhard
joe keery / djo
jj maybank
alfie buttle / ab
arthur frederick / arthurtv
george clarkey
dallas winston
sodapop curtis
darry curtis
top 3s!
films:
stand by me (1986, dir. rob reiner)
this is england (2006, dir. shane meadows)
sinners (2025, dir. ryan coogler)
books:
frankenstein (1818, auth. mary shelley)
normal people (2018, auth. sally rooney)
the picture of dorian gray (1890, auth. oscar wilde)
songs:
motorcycle boy (2024, cred. fontaines d.c.)
little things (2025, cred. inhaler)
dream brother (1994, cred. jeff buckley)
dream blunt rotation except it’s me, elijah hewson, bobby skeetz, gary titchfield & alfie buttle and instead of it being a blunt rotation i smoke the whole j and stare at them silently and perhaps a lil bit of pete dunham in the corner too
summary: hearing your name be picked was never ideal, especially not for your people.
content: mentions of death , reader is specifically 18 years old , fictional district eleven members , angst , mentions of loss of parent , physical disability , poverty & malnourishment , corrupt government , undertones of racism (canon district eleven treatment)
notes: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES AHHHH gosh i loved reader and arthur sm but very excited to be doing reader and alfie !!! my goal is to complete the entire hunger games au before sotr comes out which sounds doable but …
SILENCE LAID THICK over the fields surrounding your home. Not even the crickets that resided amongst the lengths of sharp blades were creaking half as much as they normally did. This type of silence was the impending type. The type that told you everything without even having to ask.
Despite the sun blaring through your torn, lace curtains, you still felt all life and joy drain from you. The light was supposed to be a sign of hope and fresh starts, a new day to begin from. Except this day had the opportunity to be the beginning of the end. It would be for someone, just hopefully not you.
You didn’t have the time to wallow in your own anxieties and come up with fifty solutions for things that hadn’t even happened yet. You had responsibilities, children, to look after.
Your knuckles wrapped on the rotting wood of their bedroom door, “C’mon my little bunnies, up you get.”
You sought out the bathroom, allowing yourself to have a quick bath and brief brush of your teeth before dressing yourself in something similar to what you wore every year on this damning day.
Beige or brown, short-sleeved but long at the legs, creating just enough air flow to keep you cool (if you were lucky).
When you got downstairs, the dining room and kitchen was empty, but the living room was occupied by your father and his wheelchair.
He was facing the outer window, overlooking the rest of the District as much as possible. You looked at him with a forlorn expression before sighing and turning away.
“Reader, Kelda did an accident!” Blodwyn exclaimed as she came trotting down the stairs.
“Okay, I’ll sort it.” You replied before shouting up the stairs, “Phel, can you come and sort breakfast out please!”
“Okay!” Your brother shouted back from the bathroom.
You scaled the stairs once more, making your way into the cramped room that held three beds and a makeshift crib. Really, it was makeshift. It was an old, rickety cot that your dad had nailed twigs into the side of to make safety bars so Kelda wouldn’t roll out of it in the middle of the night.
He’d done it shortly after his accident when he was feeling especially useless and self-pitying.
Making your way past your youngest brothers bed (who’s ear you made sure to twist on the way, causing an ‘Ow!’ before he finally got up) you reached into the crib, hauling Kelda into your arms before laying her down on the carpet in the middle and starting to sort out whatever mess she’d made of her nappy.
“Reader, the milk is chunky.” Phelim sighed, standing in the doorway with his shirt half buttoned up.
“Then be resourceful and make something up, or just eat it and deal with it.” You huffed, strapping up a new nappy and cringing at the lack of remaining ones in the packet.
“… Do you want me to go down to the centre after the reaping and—“
“No.” You said firmly, shaking your head, “Under no circumstances do you ever risk putting your name in that bowl more than necessary. Do you understand?”
“But you—“
“Do you understand?”
Phelim sighed, looking towards his younger brother, who was currently dressing himself backwards, and nodded.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good. Now help your brother get changed, I’ll sort out breakfast.” You kissed the top of his head before grabbing Kelda once more and heading back downstairs.
She babbled mindlessly down your ear, tugging at your partially dried hair.
“Kel, don’t, bunny, that hurts.” You tutted, sitting her in a chair with five pillows stacked on top of each other and making a mush of browning bananas for her to eat.
“Feed her, please.” You held the fork out to Blodwyn.
She nodded, wiping her own mouth with the back of her hand and standing up, starting to feed her baby sister while you made your way into the living room.
Hesitantly, you called out to your dad, waiting for any sign of movement before proceeding forwards.
“We’re all having breakfast in the dining room.”
“Okay.” His voice was gruff and hoarse, having not been used in a while.
“Would you like to join us?”
“… I think that would be quite nice, yes.” He nodded.
With a triumphant smile, you neared him, taking hold of the handles on the back of his wheelchair and manoeuvring him into the dining room.
“Daddy!” Kelda beamed, knocking Blodwyn and her awaiting spoonful to the side.
“Kelda!” She snapped.
“Don’t shout at her.” You retorted, “She’s one. She doesn’t know better.”
Blodwyn grumbled under her breath but continued to feed her baby sister while you chucked some food onto a plate for your dad and handed it to him.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Reader?” Oisin frowned.
“That’s okay. You guys need to fill your bellies.”
“Reader, I’m scared.” Blodwyn whined, tilting her head in your direction and basically nuzzling her forehead against your arm.
“Why?” You sighed, crouching beside her chair.
“What if you or Phel get reaped?”
The question caused the entire room to freeze. Even your dad halted the spoon nearing his mouth.
You shared a look with your brother.
He pulled a disgusted expression, “Don’t be so stupid, Wynnie. This is Reader’s last year. Once she gets past this, we don’t have to worry about her leaving.”
“Yeah, you’ll never be able to get ready of me.” You grinned, booping her nose with your finger.
“What about you, Phel?” Your sister added.
“I won’t get picked. My name isn’t in there enough.”
“Both of your siblings will be fine, Blodwyn. Don’t worry.” Your dad gave her a tender smile, “Now eat up.”
She seemed satisfied by her dad’s words and nodded, tucking into her breakfast.
You mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to him, and all he did was rest his hand on top of yours.
That was all the assurance you needed.
Missing meals didn’t mean anything to you if it meant your siblings had full tummies. They were growing, they needed the nutrients.
An alarm blared from outside, disturbing the domestic peace within your shack of a home.
It caused your blood to run cold and all your siblings to share frightened looks.
The front door of your house was kicked in, and armed men in fully white suits came barging in.
“Get up and go! To the square now!” Their voices boomed, aiming their weaponry at your family.
“We’re going!” Phelim snapped, gathering your younger siblings while you swept Kelda up out of her seat and placed her in your father’s lap as you wheeled him out of the house.
She was trembling in his arms, eyes shining and lower lip vibrating with the fear that coursed through her tiny body at the sight of the Peacekeepers.
You parted ways with the youngest three, giving them all a firm kiss on their heads and hugging them.
Kelda wailed for you as she found herself back in her dad’s lap as you trekked away from her.
“It’s okay, Kel. She’ll be back in an hour!” Oisin whispered encouragingly.
You took Phelim’s hand, holding it tightly for the short amount of time you had left together.
“Find me after.” You whispered to him.
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And then your hands were free, watching your brother walk towards his section that was bombarded by an excessive amount of Peacekeepers.
They lined the streets of District Eleven, their eyes always scouring over the labour fields behind their helmets, staring deep into the souls of the people that resided amongst dirt and insects and just enough food to keep them alive.
Once your finger had been pricked as a sign of attendance, you made your way forwards into the centre square, lining up in order of age. Youngest closest to the stage, oldest further back.
Had this been any other district, you would’ve been frightened about your ability to actually see the stage with you being so far back. But, you knew these people. They were all equally as malnourished as you, meaning their growth was stunted and they barely took up much room.
When Vespera took her place on stage, a sour snarl overtook your face.
You knew she was about to deliver the same languid, boring, hope-bringing speech that she did every year.
Before that though, of course, this stupid, Capitol-enforced video began playing on the screens in front of you.
Nonsense about taking back control, honouring Panem and being united as one after the trying times your ancestors faced during the Dark Ages.
Yeah, segregated districts seem very united.
When the video came to a close, you looked across the courtyard, miraculously finding your brother and locking eyes.
You shared amused, yet bored, smirks before turning your attention back to the stage and the woman standing on it with her bright blue hair and obnoxiously orange outfit.
Previous victors stood behind her. Two, to be specific.
Seeder and Burdock. Female and Male.
No one could remember the games that they won. One in the first decade, the other in the second. That’s all that was recollectable about them, because victors didn’t matter in this District.
Whether you won or not, you were still below the Peacekeepers that controlled the place. You still had to work, slave away under the oppressive sun, because the people in the Capitol needed their bread and their meat and their milk.
Victory wasn’t real.
Anyone would be stupid to think otherwise.
“Welcome, everyone! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour!” She chimed, smiling as bright as the jewellery that adorned her neck and wrists.
Silence rang throughout the centre square.
Not a cheer, nor an excited exclamation was heard.
Just damning silence.
Vespera cleared her throat awkwardly, “Now, the time has come for us to select one strong, feisty young man and woman to honour and represent our wonderful District 11 in the 31st annual Hunger Games.”
Her heels clicked against the concrete stage, echoing around and ringing in your ears.
“Ladies first, of course!” She guffawed like she’d said the most amusing thing in the world.
Her hand reached down into the fishbowl, fingers dancing along the cards holding everyone’s names.
Sickness ran through you at the thought of her dragging this out purely for audience retention.
You knew the Capitol liked seeing Districts 10, 11 and 12 suffer. They always had, and they probably always will. It was likely that it would get worse with time.
You just wished someone would be brave enough to actually do something about it.
Vespera finally grasped a piece of white, folded card, pulling it out of the fishbowl and holding it close to her chest as she returned to the microphone.
You could’ve heard a pin drop. That’s how quiet it was.
Everyone was standing still, waiting with bated breath to see which of their fellow citizens had the dishonour of facing their end this year.
The call of your name in itself felt like a death sentence, but the parting of bodies and turning of heads in your direction was like crossing your T’s and dotting your I’s on the certificate itself.
Breaking down was the only thing on your mind.
You didn’t have it within you to walk to the front and stand in front of your peers, in front of your family, and cement the fact that this was likely the last time they’d ever see you alive in person.
“Come on now, don’t be so shy! You’re a big girl after all!” Vespera cooed, beckoning you closer.
The shuffling of feet towards you and the clicking of guns was what caused you to start forwards.
Your eyes were glued to the front, not daring to turn and find Phelim amongst the boys.
“Ah, wonderful, darling!” She grinned, taking your hand to help you up the stairs and subtly speed up the process of getting you on stage.
“Isn’t this exciting, boys and girls?”
A lone tear found its way down your cheek as you stood beside her on stage.
This couldn’t be happening.
Surely this was all just an awful dream.
“And now for the male tribute!”
Your attention wasn’t on the rest of the ceremony in the slightest.
It felt like an out of body experience, the way your chest tightened and your eyes flitted around the courtyard, everything becoming such a blur you almost made yourself vomit.
“Tarragon Farley!”
He was the same age as you. You knew that because you were in the same class at school. Before you left and had to start working.
When he joined you on stage, you turned to look at him, the both of you sharing the same doomed expression.
You knew what your fates were.
It didn’t matter if either of you pulled in sponsors.
You were doomed.
A mere nod was passed between the two of you before Vespera announced the ending of the ceremony.
The sound of shuffling feet on gravel sounded throughout as everyone began to filter out of the central square and Peacekeepers took a hold of your bicep to pull you into the District Hall.
“No! Reader!” Blodwyn screeched from the very back, “No, you can’t take her!”
The Peacekeepers wasted no time on pulling out their weaponry and barking violent orders.
“Hey!” Phelim exclaimed, stepping in front of them, “She’s eight! Back off!”
There was a pause before he was struck with the butt of the gun.
“Phel!” You shouted, pushing out of the Peacekeepers arms and attempting to make it towards your brother.
You made it surprisingly far before another stepped in front of you, barrel pointed right at your chest. You felt the cold metal on your skin even through your shirt.
“Get inside!”
“My family—“
“If you want to keep them from getting hurt, you’ll get inside!”
With a small whimper, you obeyed the orders, finding yourself being pulled by them anyway, shoved through hallways and into a dingy room before the door slammed shut behind you.
The panic flared in your chest, burning hotter and hotter until your palm was rubbing over it while you tried to control your breathing.
“Reader!” Blodwyn barged into the room, immediately finding your midsection with her arms and sobbing into your stomach.
“Oh, Wynnie.” You whispered, crouching to her height and holding her tightly.
“You have to win! You have to come back!”
Your jaw hung loose, trying to find the words to respond.
Realistically, you had no chance. You were severely disadvantaged in multiple categories, but Blodwyn didn’t see it like that. She thought it was all a level playing field.
“You can do it.” Phelim interrupted.
When you looked up at him, you found that his cheekbone was looking bruised already, and he continuously shifted his jaw like it was aching.
“Phel …” You stood, approaching him and tilting his head to get a better look at it.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He shook you off, “You can win, Reader. You can. I’ll hold it down at home, I promise. I might not be as good as you, but at least it’ll be temporary. When you come back it’ll all go back to normal.”
You pursed your lips.
It was wishful thinking at best, but you hugged him tightly anyway.
Moving back to the floor, you were in front of Oisin as his bottom lip trembled violently.
“You come back?” He sniffled, “So we can play in the fields again?”
“I will try. Just for you.”
“Okay.” He croaked, seemingly content with that answer. “And Kelda needs new diapers.”
You chuckled softly, “I know.”
“How do we get that?”
“You leave that to me.” Your dad said, drawing your attention to him.
“Daddy.” You whimpered, moving towards him.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“I’m so scared.” You admitted shakily, “I wanna— I …” You looked to your siblings and back before lowering your voice, “Daddy, I’m gonna die in there.”
He shook his head firmly, “Don’t be saying stuff like that. You could win.” He took your hands into his, holding them firmly, “You know how to thrive on next to nothing. You’re good at hiding, you do it all the time with Oisin in the fields. Use what you know.”
You brought a hand up to cover your face, sheltering the rest of your family from your face being the epitome of distress and fear. Tears fell down your cheeks at a rapid pace, your chest wracking with sobs.
“Come here, now.” He sighed softly, taking Kelda from his lap and handing her to Phelim.
You must admit, it did feel strange to be sat in your fathers lap again despite being grown enough to work 12 hours in the fields, and you were shocked that the pressure of your weight didn’t have him groaning in discomfort, but you supposed that’s what came with a lack of any feeling waistdown.
You definitely didn’t weigh the same as you did ten years ago, but being perched in his lap all over again certainly made you feel it.
“Look at me, Reader.”
Reluctantly, you did so.
His eyes were soft, glossed over with unshed tears so that he didn’t fill the room with anymore grief or worry.
“You look just like your mother. You know that? And she was … a beautiful soul.”
You nodded, swallowing audibly.
“Use that.” He prodded at your chest, directly over your heart, “Use your soul to get favouritism. Sway them. Be your soft, gentle self. Remind them of humanity.”
“I can’t fight.” You sniffled.
“Hide. It’s been done before. You can hide and you can win. I believe in you.”
His hands framed your face, rough from experience, wrinkled with age.
“We all believe in you.”
It was Kelda’s fussing that snapped you out of the moment.
Clambering off of his lap, you retrieved the baby from your brother and held her for possibly the last time.
She clung to you naturally, her whining soothing instantly as you shushed her and pressed kisses to her hairline.
“Sissy.” She cooed.
“Yeah.” You whispered, nodding and flattening your nose to her temple as more tears fell and you looked to Phelim, “Please don’t let her forget me.”
His hand found your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, “She won’t need to.”
The door smashed inwards, and you weren’t filled with warmth like you were when it was Blodwyn. Instead, the blood was drained from your face and terror struck.
Kelda burst into sobs along with Oisin, whereas Blodwyn started screaming for you.
The Peacekeepers weren’t exactly gentle with your father and his wheelchair, shoving him along in juddering motions despite him having a two year old in his arms.
“Careful with hi—“
The door was slammed in your face.
The only thing you could hear other than your own ragged breathing was your siblings' wails and panicked shouts.
