new wip wednesday
i wanted to get the first chapter of this done as an early bday present to me because ive been talking about this fic for foreverrrrr but its not gonna happen because im bad at measuring time and effort 😮💨 but look! hunger games au fic!
Anakin pushes his face into his neck, letting his lips press against his pulse for a moment.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, recognition and warning rolled into one tone.
But Anakin wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed the man in his arms to so easily twist away. He wouldn’t even be here now, pressed up against him with the scent of saltwater and lilacs and leather filling his nose, if he let one warning word distract him from his goal.
So instead he pushes further, wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and takes the skin beneath his lips between his teeth. The soft fabric of their pants brush together, so loud in the stillness of the kitchen that it’s deafening—that it’s almost loud enough to drown out the catch in Obi-Wan’s breathing.
But Anakin has trained himself over the past five years to listen for all the small ways that Obi-Wan Kenobi capitulates, so he hears his sigh, feels the slump of his shoulders against his own as his head sways forward and then back.
Anakin takes his time worrying a bitemark into his neck, just at the edge of his beard. On the holos that will film Obi-Wan’s face today, it’ll look like a shadow.
But Anakin will know. Obi-Wan will know.
“Anakin,” his lover murmurs, and Anakin’s hand moves from his waist up to stroke down his arm, corded with tense muscle. Fisherman’s muscle. Victor’s muscle too.
Not today, he means. It’s obvious in every line of his body. It’s obvious in the fact that he left the bed so early in the morning when neither of them must work. It’s obvious in the distance in his eyes, the frown across his lips.
Today is not a day where Obi-Wan will accept pleasure from anyone’s lips or hands, undeserving as he feels to be on the receiving end of such a kindness.
Anakin’s left hand falls to cover Obi-Wan’s, tangling their fingers together. His are rougher than Obi-Wan’s, working man’s hands now that he is twenty-one and a man of the sea like most are on Stewjon. The rough drag of his calluses over the hairy knuckles of Obi-Wan’s hand makes Anakin swallow a smile. Victors of the Hunger Games are forbidden from working laborious jobs. They’re meant to languish away in their Coruscanti-funded manors, with idle minds and idle hands, picking at paints or design stencils or any number of different government approved hobbies
Obi-Wan Kenobi is not made to be idle. He has no patience for painting or sewing, for cooking or jewelry design. Luckily for him, Stewjon is the fourth planet from Coruscant, on the edge of the inner rim, and it’s rather small, rather ordinary. In the colder months, during the few months of the star year where the galaxy is not forced to care about the Hunger Games and its Victors, he can slip away to the ocean. Fish and sail like he was born to do, Stewjoni through and through.
But Anakin is out on those choppy seas year-round now that he’s four years finished with his compulsory education. His hands are rougher than Obi-Wan’s and they always will be.
Anakin likes it. Likes the way Obi-Wan’s softness contrasts against his own rougher places. Likes that he can sneak away from Obi-Wan’s manor in the blue of the pre-dawn light, first to the sea and then to the market, and Obi-Wan will be there when he gets back. Likes that when he leaves, his lover is curled up asleep in their bed. And when he returns with the fattest fish from his haul, Anakin can cook it for him too.
He likes that he is the only thing Obi-Wan needs. He provides. He cooks for him. He feeds him. He touches him with his rough hands, to dirty him and then to clean him up. Everything that Obi-Wan needs, Anakin is the person to give it to him.
He supposes he has Coruscant to thank for that.
He’s not stupid enough to say that—ever, but especially today. Especially on the day of the Reaping.
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This post was inspired by lucky lefties district deep dive, so please go watch. I left a similar post in a comment under her video but I wanted to expand on it since I spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about the career districts.
I’ve seen people online with the opinion that 4 is different from the other Career districts somehow. That they either aren’t prone to sending up volunteers or that their tributes aren’t as cut throat.
I personally hate this theory however I can see why people have come to such a conclusion.
In the books the two district 4 tributes are never named and both die very early on despite having supposedly trained their whole lives to survive this sort of thing. Also I doubt the movie helps as in the films the male district 4 tribute is extremely young and is killed by Cato during the bloodbath.
The girl dies later to the tracker jackers along with Glimmer and I think the impression people form because of that is something must be different about 4. Why else would their tributes be so young and die so early?
In the books Katniss does however, mention that it is strange that the district 4 male died so early on and we know he’s 18 unlike in the films, and it’s not hard to imagine that the girl from 4 was simply unprepared when the nest fell on her like Glimmer.
However, I also think the district 4 Victors we end up meeting only serve to confuse people further. We don’t meet many of the district 4 victors but the ones we do see aren’t exactly what you would expect from a career district. Mags who is extremely old, fragile and kind by the time we come to meet her in catching fire and Annie who is described frequently to have suffered a complete mental collapse during her own games.
They’re not exactly the paragon of strength, intimidation and glory that we associate with Careers like Gloss or Enobaria.
Finnick is definitely the most stereotypical career out of all of them, at least in appearances and stature, but throughout the books we learn that he is incredibly kind and gentle despite what we’re lead to believe spending most of the first few days in the games caring for Mags and ensuring Katniss’ safety by playing up her pregnancy for the Capitol.
It’s hard for us as the audience to really reconcile the fact that 4 is like 1 and 2 because we actually get to know the tributes from their and we learn that they aren’t as one dimensional as we’re lead to believe with the others.
So yes I do believe all 3 were careers. I think Mags probably formed a pack similar to the one we see Coral forming in Tbosas she was probably an earlier example of a career. Meanwhile Annie I believe suffered a similar breakdown to Cato after Clove died.
I don’t like how people assume that just because she was well trained and prepared that she somehow wasn’t still susceptible to trauma. If she was a career then we can assume she grew up close with her partner and like how Cato and Clove had a close relationship. Watching him die so brutally would’ve had an affect on any teenager career or not.
Finnick is definitely the hardest to see being a career ironically enough and that’s simply by virtue of the fact that he was 14 years old when he was reaped.
If the whole point of career tributes is to ensure your district wins and is granted the food and wealth that the Capitol gifts to the victors as a reward then why let a 14 year old child volunteer?
The only reasons I can think of is
1. Either he was some sort of prodigy (though I still find this confusing as wouldn’t waiting for him to turn 18 and sending him up with assurance that he might win not be better than sending a half trained 14 year old and hoping he’ll be the first?)
2. He got unlucky. Maybe the reaping system is employed some years or they don’t always manage to get volunteers, though I find this unlikely it is definitely a possibility.
3. Or (and this is more of a personal theory btw) like 1, 4 tries to play the social game with the Capitol and figured sending an attractive, prodigy 14 year old would stir up interest (and provide Finnick with a good storyline for interviews) while also ensuring lots of sponsorships based on his looks.
I personally believe the third theory though there’s not much evidence so I would take it with several grains of salt.
However even with all that sorted I believe that district 4 does train their tributes in a slightly different way then 1 and 2 however I think this comes more from a place of culture and propaganda than anything else.
Since district 4 runs the fishing industry they obviously have access to the ocean. They’re one of the only districts to do so barring maybe 5 and even then 4 has access on a much larger scale. This is bad for the Capitol.
Of course it’s said that Panem is the only surviving nation from after the world changed but they could easily be lying and either way, having a whole district with the potential to utilise the only bit of the world the Capitol doesn’t and cannot have complete control over if they ever decide to rebel means that district 4 is a threat.
I think that the Capitol places a lot of emphasis on inter personal relationships in the district, I also believe that like 11 they are probably heavily monitored, especially on the ocean and that whippings, beatings and executions are probably commonplace as the Capitol wants to discourage any attempts at escape.
I think district 4 has a very close knit community, and that the Captiol does everything it can to tie them to their homeland, establishing roots and connections that mean many people in district 4 don’t want to leave their home.
However I think this is also a double entendre because the close sense of community between district 4 citizens means that they get especially frustrated when their children die in the games and while I’m not saying that the other districts don’t care about their kids as much, something we see, at least in district 12, is a very defeatist attitude towards the games. The kids reaped there have given up before they’ve even made it into the arena and I imagine it’s similar with a lot of the other poorer districts, just accepting their grim reality and not bothering to try and fight. It’s implied in catching fire that 4 outright rebels and on Katniss’ victory tour she describes them as one of the districts angry at the Capitol. I believe this is because the strong emphasis on community bonds and connections means that the citizens in district 4 don’t take the abuse lying down so much as other districts like 12.
This is why I also believe the district 4 focuses primarily on survival when training volunteers. And I don’t mean survival techniques like how to start a fire or stop an infection because I don’t think the Capitol would allow those types of skills to be taught, but I think district 4 basically teaches their tributes to do anything they can to make it home.
We see it with Coral in Tbosas movie where she breaks down sobbing about how all her kills couldn’t have been for nothing. I think this feeling of doing what you have to to make it home ends up being a driving factor behind their teachings.
They’re taught to put morals aside and that even if they’re in an alliance the only one safe to trust is their own partner. Maybe they’re also taught to use whatever they can to endear them to the Capitol, whether that be their looks or their skills in the arena.
So while they’re equally as indoctrinated as 1 and 2 I believe that a lot of their training is focused on doing whatever they need to in order to live.
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☾༓Hold You Close✧.*ೃ༄ Chapter 1: The Reaping ☾༓
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Warnings: Typical Hunger Games violence. For the sake of the story Finnick is sixteen and District 4 is not a Career District.
Word Count:
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" Fin?"
"Hm?"
"Tomorrow's The Reaping." I sighed.
He chuckled, untangling the barnacle covered net.
"Really?" he answered not looking up at me. "I had no idea."
I rolled my eyes. "C'mon Finnick, be serious." I pouted slightly and absentmindedly picked at a barnacle on my own net.
"Sorry love." he said still not looking up at me continuing to twiddle wit the nets.
Our nets were always like this. Tangled, knotted, torn, and covered in barnacles. We blamed it on the capitol for not caring for the districts enough, which was true, but it was really our fault. See, Finnick and I constantly goofed around. We always fished away from everyone else, we never got caught. Or at least we believed so. And really if the peacekeepers or capitol knew, they'd do something by now.
At first we'd be focused. Honestly. We'd actually fish, actually chatting here and there. But then...one of us would decide to mess with the other and from there the boat would tip and we'd both end up in the water laughing and splashing each other, nets tangled over us.
After a successful day of "fishing" we would swim and splash around, not that we didn't already do that all day. It was a different type of fun at this time of day: the sun setting on the horizon, the waves gently hitting our sides, and the sand tickling our feet. I always looked forward to this.
"Tomorrow's The Reaping." I repeated.
Finnick's face fell slightly, and he tried to cover it up with a joke again.
"I heard you the first hundred times, love." he grinned, but noticing your disapproving look, dropped the act, and looked back down at his nets.
"We're only fifteen..." he mumbled.
Finnick suddenly put down his nets, drawing your attention.
"How many times did you put your name in?" he asked looking deep into yours eyes.
"Nineteen times. Why?"
He sighed and went back to his nets. Then it dawned on me.
"Finnick..."
He stayed silent.
"Finnick...Finnick how many times?"
"It doesn't matter." he mumbled.
"Yes it does Finnick. How many times? Answer me." I said firmly.
"Fifty - five." he mumbled.
I gasped, and instantly regretted it. I knew that would make him feel bad.
"Oh Finnick!" I immediately jumped up latching on to his neck, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Oh, Finnick why?!! Why would you do such thing?" I knew why.
"You know why." he mumbled.
"Oh Finnick! I'm so sorry!" I sobbed.
"It'll be ok. We'll be ok."
Finnick's family lived on the poor side of District 4. His family having almost no money and barely enough to buy foods at times. My family wasn't any better, but I only had my mother and grandmother.
Finnick had more people to care for. A drunkard for a father, who waisted most of Finnick's earnings on alcohol. His mother didn't love him. Or any of her children for that matter. Finnick cared for all of them. I don't know how he did it. He had to younger brothers, one of which was an infant, and a little sister. All of them which I had met. They were very sweet and polite, surprisingly, considering the parents they had. I really didn't know how any of them survived. There were six people in the family, and Finnick took care of every single one of them.
"We can run away." he said pushing me slightly away to look into my red and swollen eyes, and wiped a stray tear away.
"Run away?" I chuckled.
"You laugh at me, but I'm serious." he grinned.
I just shook my head.
"Look. We take my siblings, we can take care of them, you always wanted children anyway, and we run to district 12. Beyond that is freedom. Can' t you see it. Just us on the run. Away from this awful life.
"Finnick..." I stroked his cheek gently. Boy, did that man have an imagination.
He sighed. "I know, I know. But it's not impossible.
I smiled at him, mesmerized by his stormy eyes.
"Y/n...whatever happens tomorrow..." but he was cut off by the bells of the city hall. It was time to go.
"Guess we gotta go." i sighed standing up, not really wanting to.
He nodded in agreement.
"What were you gonna say?" I asked.
"Oh nothing. I forgot anyway." he grinned.
"Ok then." you smiled. You didn't believe him. Something was troubling him.
You hugged him goodbye. "See you in the morning. Don't be late!" you scolded jokingly.
He merely chuckled. Waving you off as you headed opposite directions, the sunset almost fully set behind you by now.
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That night I couldn't sleep. Something felt wrong. Like something was going to happen.
Only when I saw the sun begin to rise did I finally fall asleep.
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When I woke up, a dress was already layed out for me. Probably by mother.
It was a beautiful sea green shirt dress that went down to mu knees.
Before putting it on I made sure to wash and then gently put on the dress tying the bow in the back.
As I looked at myself in the mirror, my mother walked in.
She smiled.
"You look more beautiful in that dress than I ever did."
"Thank you." I whispered.
She walked over and gently combed my hair and twisted it into a tight bun.
"Beautiful."
"Thank you mother."
My grandmother walked in as well commenting on my dress and how she remembered my mother in the same dress walking to her first reaping as a little girl. She told that story every year, and I listened patiently every time.
"C'mon Y/n...It's time to go." my mother said, gently pulling me by my arm as we headed to the main district square.
The walk there was silent. Each of us in our own thoughts.
I watched people walk out from their small houses. Little children's faces pale and eyes deep with worry and anxiety. My own emotions began to overflow as my gut began to have a weird feeling, like something was going to happen.
When we walked to the square, which was surrounded by shops and small buildings, most of which were closed due to the 'important' day. Slowly, the residents of District 4 began to trickle in and disperse into the specific, roped of sections.
My mother and grandmother got lost in the crowd of adults as I tried to spot Finnick's messy hair while slowly walking to the 16 year - old females.
The area became more and more cramped as more people trickled in, latecomers ushered to the back of the roped off sections.
As more sixteens gather around me, we merely exchange curt nods, barely knowing each other.
Next to the stage the mayor silently sits with his two sons and wife.
On the other side sit the previous victors of District 4.
As the town clock strikes twelve, the mayor begins reading the speech. It's the same one every year. How Panem rose up from the ashes, the uprising, punishment, blah - blah -blah...
I zoned out, searching for Finnick in the sea of seventeens. He was one year older than me. I spotted him in his sea green pants and white button up. I had to admit, he looked dashing.
He smiled, a blinding white smile, and gave me small wave.
I smiled back and drew my attention back to the now end of the mayor's speech and the reading of the list of the previous victors. In the past sixty four years we had exactly three victors, all three of which were sitting to the right of the stage.
Soon Cressida Cotrell, our District's escort, took the podium.
"Happy Hunger Games, my lovelies! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Her bright and sparkly lilac hair made my head dizzy as she walked back and forth across the stage in the sunlight. She goes on a little about what an honor it is to be there and so on.
I look back at Finnick, and think about his fifty - five names in the glass bowl and how the odds are not on his favor. And I maybe he's thinking the same thing because I notice his face darken slightly. I felt my heart squeeze. I wanted to reassure him. That there were thousands of other slips in the bowl.
It's time for the drawing. "As always: Ladies first!" she chirps and crosses to the glass bowl of girls' names. She reaches in, digs around, and slowly took out a slip of paper. The crowd draws their breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous.
Cressida Cotrell crosses back to the podium and in a loud, clear voice reads out the slip of paper out of thousands of other ones.
"Y/n Halloran."
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A/N: Hello guys! I had SOOOO much fun writing this and I have more up my sleeve, bare with me, I promise it will get better. Please comment! And let me know if you would like to be on the taglist! Thank you!
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