#cato hadley fanfic

[ervotica]

could I please get a Cato x soft/quiet gf reader she’s really good at hiding and when he’s training or even talking with friends she sneaks a kiss when he’s not looking and disappears until one day he finally catches her and gives her a real kiss💓

pairing: cato hadley x fem!reader

summary: you hide from cato when he wants a kiss. he always finds you in the end...

hunger games masterlist

Cato has always thought you're charming in a sort of elusive way; you're not a particularly social creature, quick on your feet and opting to hide and duck out of people's line of sight before they've even spotted you. It's endearing, truly, but it tends to frustrate him when all he wants is a kiss from you.

Cato's practicing his knife throwing in an empty field lined with dummies. He brings his elbow up and over his head before letting the blades cut through the air and thwack as they lodge themselves in the targets every time. You watch, entranced - perched just out of his line of sight - as his muscles ripple and flex with his movements; you imagine how they feel under your touch, his warm skin under your hands.

He's just thrown the last one when your cold fingertips graze his waist; his t-shirt has ridden up to expose a pale sliver of skin: ridged abs and a line of blonde hair that disappears beneath his low hung shorts.

He reaches out but you're too quick, ducking under his armpit and snaking up his front for a chaste peck before you're off again.

"Hey!" he yells as you disappear up a nearby tree. "Come back!"

He crosses his arms and plants himself at the roots of the tree, glaring up as you keep climbing. You giggle, traversing the length of a particularly thick branch and wrapping your legs around the width of it in order to hang upside down. Your hair forms what can only be described as a halo as you swing from side to side and grin.

"Cato," you hum, sing-song voice taunting him. He creeps closer and tries his luck in catching you. You're faster, snapping back up to lay horizontally on the branch, too high for even your hulking boyfriend to reach.

"Come here!" he huffs, brow knit as he stares up at you. You only scrunch your nose and raise an eyebrow and his tone changes like the flick of a switch. "Baby, please. C'mere."

You only shake your head and wiggle your fingers at the blonde boy and he seizes the opportunity, locking his fingers with your own as they reach for him enticingly. Your eyes widen and you shriek as he tugs and you come toppling down rather unceremoniously.

Of course he wouldn't let you fall and you land in a heap in his arms, hair static and frazzled as he sets you down.

“Cato!” You scold. “That’s not funny!”

He presses his chest close, his face burying in the juncture of your neck as he kisses and nips at the soft skin there.

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” he murmurs, big hands squeezing the fat of your hips. “You kept hiding from me.”

You pout and push lightly at his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

“Awh,” he coos, pressing a thumb to the plush flesh of your lip before he’s leaning in for a kiss. No chaste pecks or soft, fleeting moments- he’s determined to get a real kiss from you, all tongues and teeth and heaving chests as he steals your breath.

The only sounds to be heard are the whistling of wind and the soft smack of your mouths as he kisses you with fervour. Your hand comes up to his neck, fisting the short hairs at the nape to pull him closer. You feel his smile against your mouth.

“This is all I wanted from you,” he snarks, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as you chase his lips to keep him quiet.

“Shh,” you whisper, eyes fluttering as he bites into your bottom lip and soothes the pain away with his tongue.

He pulls away heavy lidded and breathing hard.

“Caught you.”

[twobraincellkentwell]

WAIT I’VE JUST REALISED THAT I NEVER POSTED THESE PHOTOS ON HERE!!

I present you… Alexander Ludwig with myself (dressed as Clove). Doing my service to the clato fandom one photo op as a time!! And with my best friend (our Katniss - yes she’d got roasted, no she didn’t mind)

[7s3ven]

LACY. cato hadley

( master list )

IN WHICH… Clove Kentwell can’t help but compare herself to Cato’s ex. They may have dated a year ago, but she sees the way he still looks at her.

“Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me. You poison every little thing that I do”

—

“Cato, are you listening?” Clove placed a hand on her boyfriend’s muscular arm, her eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t usually worried but with how distant Cato had been lately, she couldn’t help it.

“Huh?” Finally, Cato turned to her. “Yeah. I’m good. Sorry, I’m just tired.” But his eyes didn’t fail to trail back to her. Clove followed his line of sight, feeling a sudden burst of jealousy.

He had been paying more attention to her than Clove.

Y/N L/N, District Two’s prized possession. A delicate beauty none the less. And Cato Hadley’s ex-girlfriend. It had been a year since the two broke up but he was still gazing at her from time to time, which angered Clove.

She had tried to bring it up with him, but he brushed her off. “Cato.” She tugged on his shirt, gaining his attention. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” The pair were sitting in a small cafe that happened to be Y/N’s favorite. She was always sitting in the corner, laughing with friends.

“I thought you liked this place.” Cato tilted his head to the side.

“I do.” Clove glanced down at the cinnamon spice coffee that she adored, “But I… want a change of scenery.” All she wanted was one day where she didn’t have to witness Cato eying up Y/N.

“Uh. Yeah. We can leave.”

Clove did her best to hide her sigh of relief. They stood up, pushing their chairs back. Clove grabbed her drink and practically shoved Cato out the door.

“What about that dessert place you like?” Cato questioned. Only, Clove didn’t like desserts. She liked warm and hot things; like hot chai lattes and spicy soup. Y/N was the one who liked desserts.

“I’m not in the mood for cold things.” Clove smiled, cooly playing it off. She couldn’t help but loathe Y/N for influencing Cato this much and leaving such a huge mark. But it was partly her fault for falling in love with a guy who wasn’t over his ex.

“Do you just want to go home and watch a movie then?” Cato suggested. Finally, he remembered one right detail about her. Clove silently nodded, taking another sip from her cup.

Cato abruptly paused. “Hey, your friend is friends with Y/N, right?” Clove wasn’t even disappointed at this point.

She heaved a light sigh. “Yeah. I guess. They talk.”

“Great. I need to return some things to her but I don’t know her new address. So do you think you could ask your friend?”

“I’m not really comfortable with you being around Y/N.” Clove fiddled with her fingers, which was another trait she had gained from her relationship with Cato.

Cato quietly scoffed, but not in a rude way. He smiled. “It’s just a few things, Clo. I’ll be in and out like that.” He quickly snapped his fingers. Clove rocked back and forth on her heels before giving in.

“I’ll ask but I can’t make any promise.” She uttered, the light in her eyes dimming when she saw Cato grin wider.

Y/N was the type of girl nobody could compare to with her stunning E/C eyes and lingering perfume that hung heavily on her skin.

She was Heather Conan talked about. She was Lacy Olivia referred to. And in a way, she was Clove’s rival.

“Excuse me.”

Clove’s heart practically dropped after she heard that all too familiar voice. Cato seemed to spin around impossibly fast.

Y/N stood behind them, softly smiling. “I think you left this.” She held up a hardcover book that Clove had forgotten to grab despite it being her favorite.

“Oh…” Clove quickly reached for it, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Thank you.” She choked out. Y/N sent her another smile that made Clove feel sick. How could she be so perfect?

“Cato, I found some of your stuff in my closet.” Y/N turned to the blond-haired boy. “Would you be wanting it back?” Clove almost prayed for Cato to ignore her. To not reply. But Cato opened his mouth anyway.

“I have some of your things too. I was planning on asking Clove’s friend, Aria, for your address.”

“Oh, Aria! She’s so nice. She let me borrow her perfume once.”

It was like Clove wasn’t even there. She clenched her hands into fists as she watched the two converse like they were old friends. They somewhat were but their dating history made it weird for them to be speaking so casually.

Cato was hanging off every word Y/N said which left Clove alone. She almost shrivelled under all the pitying looks people passing by gave her, but she continued to stand tall.

“I’ll meet you there then?” Y/N asked, her perfectly tinted lips curving upwards. Her makeup was always perfect, unlike Clove who preferred to wear none at all. Suddenly, Clove grew self-conscious.

Did Cato like feminine girls? Clove looked Y/N up and down, noticing her neat outfit. The H/C-nette was wearing a skirt while Clove was dressed in loose fitting cargo pants. Her gaze flickered to Y/N’s hair. Every strand was placed perfectly while Clove’s hair was simply pulled back into a messy ponytail.

“Yeah. See you.” Cato bid Y/N farewell. He looked at Clove again, who was losing her confidence the more she compared herself to Y/N. “You ready to go?”

Clove hid her insecurity behind a smile. “Yeah.” She muttered, her voice quieter than she planned it to be.

The couple always watched movies at Cato’s house. His family had a spare room that they used as a small movie theatre. Clove leaned against Cato and despite him allowing her to do so, she knew he wished she was someone else.

“So, what were you and Y/N talking about?” Clove carefully questioned as the movie had begun playing. She felt Cato shrug.

“Not much. We were just arranging a place and time to give stuff back.”

“Why do you still have her stuff?”

“I must’ve forgotten about it.”

The pang in Clove’s heart told her that he was lying. She saw the way he hugged a pink hoodie to sleep. It wasn’t her’s, and it didn’t smell like her either. Clove’s perfume was heavy and mature while the hoodie smelled airy and floral… just like Y/N.

Clove did her best to focus on the movie. She would get lost in her thoughts from time to time but always came back to reality when Cato shifted around.

Clove yawned and slightly slouched, letting the cushions of the couch engulf her. She glanced at Cato who was too focused on the screen to notice.

She suddenly paused the movie, confusing Cato. “Are you leaving now?” He asked, watching as she stood up. She shook her head.

“Cato, we need to talk about…” Clove paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Some things that have been happening recently.”

Cato raised his eyebrows, indirectly telling her to continue.

“Lately we haven’t been the same. I mean, I’m training more and you… you seem distracted. Did I do something wrong?” Clove had never felt more vulnerable than right now.

“I mean… you did eat salt and vinegar chips with Oreos.” Cato quietly chuckled.

“That’s not what I mean!” Clove exclaimed, “And that was a dare just so you know!” She pointed a finger at Cato. “You keep looking at her. And don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m referring to.”

“What? Y/N?” The way Cato immediately caught on unnerved Clove. “Clo, she’s just a friend. Not even that. I only talked to her today because I needed to.”

“I see the way you look at her. And…” Clove had to take a minute to compose herself, “I know that you wish I was her.” Cato said nothing, confirming her theory.

“Clove.” He uttered after a moment. That was the first time he had called her by her real name in a long time. “I’m dating you. Not her. I”- Clove unexpectedly cut him off.

“Then why does it feel like we aren’t dating?!” She shouted, her voice slightly shaking. She was glad no one else was home. “Why does it feel like… I’m a replacement?”

“You aren’t”-

Clove didn’t let Cato speak. She launched straight into another scolding. “Why are you always looking at her?! And ignoring me! I’m your girlfriend, Cato! Me! Not her! So why do you pay more attention to Y/N than me? You hardly even talk to me now!” If Clove was a normal girl, she would be sobbing. But her parents taught her to keep her emotions, especially her sadness, at bay.

Cato remained silent, staring at her with the same look of pity everybody else did. All Clove wanted was for him to look at her the same way he looked at Y/N.

“I’m sorry, Clo.” He uttered. Clove took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for whatever was next to come. “I just can’t love you like I love her.”

“I see.” The brunette whispered. She quickly gathered her things, blinking away small tears.

“Clove. Come on.” Cato stood up as she walked away. “We can talk about this. Where are you going? Clove.” He was annoyingly insistent on following her.

Clove spun around, staring right into Cato’s eyes. “I can’t be her, Cato. So maybe it’s best if we split up.” She was prepared to leave but Cato grabbed her wrist.

“Y/N.” He uttered without thinking. His grip loosened on Clove’s wrist once he realized his mistake.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” Clove unlocked the front door, stepping out. “Just… leave my stuff on the doorstep and I’ll do the same.” She closed the door behind her and allowed herself a moment of weakness.

Cato stood on the other side, listening to Clove’s quiet sobs and sniffs. He slowly backed away. He knew that deep down, Clove was right. He did wish she was Y/N.

He glanced at the box Y/N’s stuff. It sat at the bottom of the stairs, almost collecting dust.

Maybe it’s for the best, he told himself. He had already hurt Clove enough. There was no reason for him to pretend that he loved her as much as he still loved Y/N.

[melusinealarice]

Somewhere in Panem with the victors the 74th year

Katniss climbing the tree

Gloss: Really Haymitch, this is the girl that got an 11 as a training score??

Cato falls

Haymitch: At least she got up the fuckin tree.

Cashmere: It’s fine someone else will get her.

None if the carriers climbing

Enobaria: You gotta be kidding me.

Johanna and Finnick join on the couch

Johanna: Even Finnick’s kids could climb a fucking tree,

Finnick hiding laughter

Brutus: At least our kids made it past the blood bath, can’t say the same for either of yours.

Johanna: I bet you wish they’d kept one of mine around right about now.

Gloss: its fine, she’s a sitting duck, they can just shoot her, its not like she can dodge it, or move.

Glimmer misses shot

Haymitch: Did that girl ever hit any target with her arrow? Because mine did.

Cashmere: We told her to grab a short distance weapon, she has no aim.

Enobaria: that’s embarrassing, for the careers. Cato will get her, he doesn’t miss.

Cato fires arrow and misses

Brutus: Oh my god, I can’t watch this, im getting second hand embarrassment.

Haymitch: Can none of your kids climb a tree???

Cashmere: I guess not.

Marvel throws spear and misses

Finnick: None of them can aim either, this is just sad

Peeta: lets wait her out, she has to come down at some point.

Haymitch laughing hysterically,

Some time later

Katniss starting to cut down tracker jackers

Gloss: Did all our kids seriously fall asleep,

Cashmere rubbing her temples: Yea, they did

Johanna: Who sleeps that heavily in the arena??? Shes making so much noise how are they not awake?

Enobaria: She’s gonna die from those jackers before that nest falls,

Nest falls and careers scatter

Brutus: I need another drink,

Glimmer dies

Johanna: HAH HOW DOES IT FEEL HAVING YOUR CAREER BE TAKEN OUT BY THE DISTRICT 12 GIRL!

Cashmere: no comment,

Some more time later

Katniss plots with rue to blow up food

Gloss: they aren’t gonna fall for that.

They fall for it

Haymitch: you were saying?

Enobaria: This year sucks

Katniss kills Marvel

Johanna (drunk) : HAH BOTH OF YOUR TRIBUTES TAKEN OUT BY THE 12 GIRL!

Gloss: Ok im leaving now.

Cashmere: yea i think im also gonna head out…

Johanna (drunk): LOOSERS HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

Finnick: ok Jo, come on, that’s enough for you,

Takes her alcohol

Johanna: no fairrrr, you never take Haymitch’s alcohol

Haymitch: he knows not to mess with me

Finnick: Every time you get drunk, you end up in a fist fight, or breaking something, or both, Haymitch just passes out.

Johanna: OH WHAT YOU WANNA FIGHT LETS FIGHT!

Finnick picks Jo up and carries her to the elevator as she continues screaming and fighting

Haymitch to Brutus and Enobaria: Haha, your tributes arent as cool as mineeee,

Brutus: at least our girl doesn’t look like she wants to vomit getting close to her supposed lover.

Finnick returns

Enobaria: that was fast?

Finnick: I locked her in her bathroom,

Haymitch: Didn’t she just break down the door last time?

Finnick: I handcuffed one of her hands to the pipes and the other to the door.

Elevator doors open revealing Johanna, drenched in water, still handcuffed to a pipe, and the door.

Finnick: I give up. *sits down*

Brutus: what the fuck is wrong with you.

Both Finnick and Jo simultaneously: A lot.

[welldonebeca]

the devil in the marble - masterlist

Summary: First love is always a little foolish; you look at the person by your side and plan a life with them with the ease a child has at imagining a fairytale. It’s feverish and impatient, with new experiences and new feelings, and a comfort one has never felt before. After being asked to pose for a statue months before the 74th Hunger Games, Cato falls in love with its beautiful and odd sculptor. Pairing: Female!Reader x Cato (District 2's Male Tribute) Warnings: Fluff, falling in love, canon compliant, pre-74th Hunger Games, District 2. Tension. Hurt/Comfort.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 Chapter 9 on Patreon (3rd of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 10 on Patreon (10th of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 11 on Patreon (16th of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 12 on Patreon (23rd of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 13 on Patreon (30th of March 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 14 on Patreon (6th of April 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 15 on Patreon (13th of April 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 16 on Patreon (20th of April 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 17 on Patreon (27th of April 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 18 on Patreon (4th of May 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 19 on Patreon (11th of May 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 20 on Patreon (18th of May 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 21 on Patreon (25th of May 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3) Chapter 22 on Patreon (1st of June 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3)  Chapter 23 on Patreon (8th of June 2024 on Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 28 /Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34 / Chapter 35  (on Patreon)

(more)

"the devil in the marble" was posted on my Patreon on June 2022. To read all 23 available chapters now and have early access to the last arc as it is posted, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

. . .

Taglist is open.

[peapodslvr]

WHAT IT’S LIKE DATING CATO HADLEY

@yomamaslays4lyfe for writing this w me 😛

he’d rather lose the hunger games than let you die

possessive

obsessed

angry sex

make-up sex

would show you his skills (in bed or training)

instead of clove you both got picked from the 2nd district

grew up together

dated as freshman, broke up, then the love rekindled when you both got picked

THAT look when seen you in the dress for the interview

always has his arm around your shoulders, or waist - especially when marvels around cause he’s a man whore

mark you as his

when the other career tributes weren’t around you too would have sex (and your whole district saw)

veiny hands. better when in you

those muscles when he picks up smth heavy gah dayum

man spread w u in between

if another man touched you, they’d be his main target in thg

freaky

PULLING ON HIS HAIR

panting

comes off as dom but is sub when it comes to you

when y’all were younger he was a class clown

letting you do his makeup

before being in thg when you two would drive around and he’d back out of a spot and put his hand behind the head of your car seat AND DRIVING W HIS HAND ON YOUR THIGH

takes you in the backseat

make-out sessions oml

THAT JAWLINE - WHEN YOU KISS IT JSKSKSJSISKS

hes big asf

when he died you just laid with him

after he died you let katniss kill you cause you couldn’t live w/out him (lowk giving romeo and juliet)

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 1

Summary: In which Cato falls for a tribute from 10.

____________________________________

Chapter 1 : The Reaping 

“And no matter what happens, just know that you’ll be alright. You’re going nowhere.” Amaranto, your older brother tries to sooth you. His man hands on your shoulder, making you look him in the eyes as he attempts to stop your sobbing. Teary eyed you just nodded your head. That was easy for him to say. He had reached the cut-off age only three months ago. 

“I swear it’ll be alright.” He pulls you into a hug, his tan arms squeezing you to the point where you let out a small laugh. 

“Alright…” You reply, wiping away your tears. 

“Come on, maybe work will distract you.” He says, picking up his tin foil container which held the rice and eggs you had packed him and yourself. 

It’s a little past 6 in the morning. The sun barely pushed the dark blue sky away to take its place. The reaping wouldn’t  take place for about another 7 hours or so. Giving people enough time to cry over their loved ones, or finish their final trades before more peacekeepers flooded the area. The two of you decide to go into work today, even though they give off reaping days to the younger workers. You nervously headed out, eyes fixated on the pale yellow of your house, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time you saw it. 

District 10, your home, never seemed more somber than on reaping day. The only other time you saw people’s moods this down was when the Capitol decided to take the horses away from the district as a punishment to those who tried to escape on them. Noises of chickens, cows, and pigs echoed throughout the empty space as you and Amaranto walked through the desolate farming sections. You had assumed the farmers were either at the markets trying to buy feed for their livestock, or out in the bar trying to get over the fact that their best farm hands could get taken from them. 

The smell of fresh manure filled your nostrils as you neared some of the dairy cows. You hesitantly stopped, trying to keep in line with your routine, your hand reached up and rubbed the snout of a large spotted cow. Its markings were peculiar, since they all looked like rounded shapes rather than blotches of ink. “What I’d do to trade places with you.” You told the cow. Dairy cows were prized in this district, they were the only cows that weren’t sent off to be packaged into meat. They were the ones who got to live a long peaceful life, while their counterparts were met with a bloody fate. 

“Come on (Y/n), the faster we get there, the faster we can eat lunch before the reaping.” Your brother said, already miles ahead of you. 

District 10 was divided in its work. There were jobs in the production of  dairy and eggs, the slaughterhouses, butchery , farming, breeding, and then there were the  people who actually raised the livestock. Before making leather was moved to district 8, it belonged to 10. The breeders and farmers were people with a little bit more money than the rest. The breeders being where the smartest of 10 would use their knowledge of science and splicing to breed superior meats to send off to the capitol. Most kids in 10 spend their first few years working as farm hands and helping around in the creameries. The older ones take jobs in the killing and cutting  of the meat. It was a shame that so much work went into something that its citizens couldn’t even have. The only good thing about 10 was that they got the capitol’s scraps. Small eggs the size of a cotton ball, cuts they deemed too disgusting to eat, cheese on the brink of its expiration, the list went on and on. 

Amaranto and you worked at the slaughterhouse. Ever since your dad broke his leg, you both had to quit your jobs at Farmer Alfie’s and trade in your coveralls for white rubbery aprons. The slaughterhouse always smelled metallic. The smell of iron was one that would stay with you for as long as you live. The ceilings held fans, but they only helped so much to drive the smell away. Metal decorated walls and tables greeted you as you walked in. Your job was to drain the poor animal of its life. Walking past the pen of the to-be-killed animals felt hypocritical of you. You related a bit too much to the poor bovine creatures. Afterall, just like them, you were born to die. 

“Dad’s in the building next to ours cutting up some lambs.” Amaranto said as he placed his lunch box in his locker. “And you know where to find me.” He finished, closing up the locker and turning to look at you. “If you feel like you can’t handle work today just go look for him or me ok?” He spoke, his kind voice reassuring you. Amaranto worked out with the men killing them. They were under the close eyes of peacekeepers, since their job was the only one requiring guns. 

“Alright…” Was all you could muster up.

“Damn (Y/n), you’re quiet today.” Clarabell, the girl who was sweet on your brother, spoke from behind you. She was your coworker, and quite literally your only friend. “My my, and why is it that you are wearing that gorgeous top to work?” She asked with a fake scolding voice. 

“She’s nervous about the reaping.” Amaranto told her as they both exchanged a flash of worry about you. 

“I thought I’d get dressed before coming in today, since I don’t think I’d get out in time to change.” You had gotten up early in the morning to go out of your way to put on your reaping clothes. It’s not like you anticipated the event, rather you felt that getting ready earlier would be better than struggling to change an hour before the reaping. 

“Oh come on (Y/n)-ie, you know nothing’s going to happen right? The chances of you getting picked are like the chances of your brother deciding I’m finally lady-like enough to marry.” The girl said, trying to throw some humor at you. 

“C-can we just work?” Came your reply, dry and hasty. You didn’t want to talk about the reaping anymore. You just wanted to distract yourself from your possible death sentence. 

Clarabell gave you a sympathetic hug, draping her dark red hair on your face as she nuzzled into your shoulder. “Sweet girl, you’ll be fine.” She said, then going to grab her apron. You followed, grabbing your own and shakily putting it on over your baby blue gingham dress shirt. 

“No- no, here.” Clarabell said as she  took off the shirt she was wearing. “You are not getting your pretty little self all bloodied before the reaping.” She said, tossing the shirt at you. 

“I can’t.” 

“Oh I think you will.” And like that her shirt was now on top of yours. It was stupid of you to wear your best shirt to work, now making people sacrifice theirs for you. Saying goodbye to your brother as he turned and left for work, you finally tied your apron on, and the two of you joined the others for work. 

Time passed and the sun arose. Its heat raining down on 10. The only perk about working here was that they were always blasting cold air into the building. The clock seemed like it was against you, time moving both quickly and at a skin crawling pace. Clarabell tried to distract you, but the deep feeling in your stomach only sunk further. Eventually you couldn’t handle it anymore, and went to go speak with your father. 

You hung up your apron. You hadn’t noticed how bloody your clothes had gotten until you took it off. “Damn.” You cursed looking over at the redhead. “I’m sorry Clara- I’ll wash it and bring it back to you I swear.” 

The older girl just laughed, “It��s alright, now go on- enjoy yourself, go frolic with the sheep, or kiss some boys-” She teased as she waved to you. 

You walked alongside the dirt path that connected the slaughterhouse and the butcher’s corners. Many of the men recognized you as your fathers daughter, greeting you as you sped through the halls and into the area where your father was sitting. Your heart stopped when you saw him, on his wheelchair working on slicing some skin off of a cut of meat. This was probably the last time you’d see him like this. 

You didn’t know why, but a feeling of impending doom told you that you’d be chosen as one of the kids to die in the arena. 

“Hey Papa.” You greeted. His dark head of hair shifted up to look at you. He smiled for a brief second, his serious expression returning. “What  are you doing here (N/n). Didn’t they give you the day off?” He asked, his voice deep and old. 

“They did, but Amar thought working today would distract me.” Your eyes shifted from the meat he was cutting to his face. 

“I see.” He spoke. 

“Just wanted to check up on you.” You tugged at the sleeves of your shirt, failing to realize that you hadn’t washed the blood on your hands thoroughly enough and staining the light material. 

“Thank you dear.” You knew why your Father wasn’t saying much. In fact he was just like you, not speaking much because he was scared. He was scared to lose you like how he had lost your mother. 

“I love you Papa.” You said, reaching out to hug him. 

“Look, you’re going to be fine. If you get picked or not, you’re from 10. Remember that. The district of hard-ass cowboys alright? Now you’re a badass (Y/n), so don’t let fear get to ya.” He said, turning around to hug you tight. 

Tears fell down your cheeks at his words. Nodding your head you agreed with his words. You couldn’t let fear get to you. Everyone had been saying that your chances of getting picked were slim, so they must be right. 

… 

The cries of children and mothers alike took the place of the bleating animals. Peacekeepers were now circling the district, lining up people with their guns as they ushered them to the square. The commotion made for some of the animals to go loose, but no one cared about them anymore. All that mattered to the peacekeepers was getting everyone to go witness the death of two children from home. 

You were already in line waiting to get your finger pricked. You watched as some of the older kids looked more relaxed. Your heart sank when you met the eyes of a teary eyed 12 year old. She looked at you with a scrunched up red and puffy face. All you could offer her was a somber smile. 

“God I know how them cows must be feeling.” A blonde girl spoke to her friend behind you. Flashes of the meat cows came into your brian. You had watched Amar do his job a while back, shocked at how he was able to go through with it. 

All you remember is the cow’s poor innocent eyes as it awaited its fate. The gun was raised and aimed smack dab in the middle of its head. 

Boom 

You jumped at the feeling of a needle puncturing your skin. You went to lick it, once again failing to notice the blood on your hands. Of course. You had forgotten to wash this off after helping your dad out with a few of his work. Sighing with no other choice, you wiped your hands on the sides of your shirt. Making your way to stand with your age group, you looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone familiar. 

Met with Clarabell ’s green eyes you felt more relaxed, soon catching a view of Amaranto’s face. He looked stern, serious, almost like your father. In fact he was the exact clone of your Father when he was younger. Speaking of which you couldn’t find. Your Father must have been further back. A part of you was glad you couldn’t see him. You knew you’d burst out in tears if you did. 

“Welcome, Welcome!” A sultry voice came from the stage. Everyone turned their attention to the announcer. It was a tall asian man, wearing a tan outfit consisting of pants longer than his legs, and a dress shirt littered with feathers that made it seem as if his whole upper body was a chicken. Along with the outfit he wore a hen on top of his slicked dark indigo hair. Pradain Alcomore, District 10’s announcer. Nobody could stop staring. Had he dressed like this in honor or in ridicule of the district?

“Boy is it hot.” The announcer then said, wiping the sweat of his brow with a handkerchief. He placed it back in his pants pocket, returning to holding the microphone. 

“Welcome All to the annual reaping.” He said scanning the crowd for a reaction. “As you all know, a male and female tribute are to be selected to participate in the 74th hunger games.” He said with a toothy grin as he made jazz hands to the crowd. “Right then, roll the tape!” He commanded.  

As he ordered the tape you had all memorized begins to play, its music the only thing making sound aside from the sniffles of children. 

“Wonderful, that never gets old.” He giggles to the crowd as he gets their attention back. 

“Alright then, let's begin shall we.” He dipped his hands into the fish bowl, swirling it around a couple more times than was necessary. 

Being one of the poorer districts meant your name was in there more than you would’ve liked it to be. Amar scolded you when he found out what you did, but he figured since he managed to survive the reaping you would too. You only hoped he was right. 

You watched as people held hands in nervousness, awaiting to hear the first name drawn. There was a deadly silence. 

Pradain opened the slip, a smile on his face as he announced to the world the female tribute from district 10. 

“(Y/n) Cuernos.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream but not a drop of voice came out. The ringing in your ears began as people around you began to back away, allowing a path to be made in front of you. The path that would lead you to death. 

Clarabell’s soft sobs were what lured you back into reality.  She mouthed the words sorry as you passed by, turning around to see if your brother was crying too. When you did find him he was on his knees, a friend of his trying to console him. You could only imagine what your father was thinking. As you looked around you spotted him, his face as serious as ever. You knew if he made eye contact with you he’d burst out yelling, so you continued to walk the path up to the stage. 

“Come Come dear, time is ticking.” Pradair says as you step up. The cameras follow you, focused on your back as you walk. “My what a fashion choice.” He speaks as he notices the blotches of red staining your shirt. 

You can’t cry. You can’t. And as you feel your face get warm, look up at the gigantic screen displaying your fear filled eyes. Your hair is braided into two braids, it makes your face look gigantic. The baby blue gingham shirt stained with cows blood looks exhausted, making you look like filth in the eyes of the people watching, or so you assume. The overalls you thought to wear covered the cowboy boots on your feet. You never noticed how long the pant legs were. You hadn’t noticed how much you looked like your mother. 

“Onto the boy!” Pradain then says as he shuffles to the other end of the stage to pull out the male tribute’s name. 

“Buckley Wheaton!” He calls out and you watch a mother scream for her boy. He’s around your age, though muscular and older looking. No doubt he’d be the winner out of the two of you. He went to school with you, only speaking to you when asking for answers to questions. Other than that the two of you were total strangers. The brunette looked unfazed, but deep inside you knew he was as scared as you. 

“Let’s give them a hand!” Pradair says, and the people only place their hands to their hearts. 

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned For Better Epilogue: I Vow I Will Always Be Yours, For We Survived the Great War

Here we are. The end of an era. I have..so much to say.

First of all..if you do not like the canon epilogue you will not like this. If you do not like the choices Katniss makes you will not make the choices they make.

Secondly...This fic took me exactly forty weeks to write. That is intentional, as forty weeks is the length of an average pregnancy is forty weeks. This is my baby. You have all travelled with me from the middle of my third year until the middle of my residency interview season. I hope you will continue to follow for what comes next, but this is my baby. Today I release her into the world for the last time, and I am incredibly sad about it. Thank you for loving her with me.

Third.. I hope along this journey you have grown to empathize with the four careers of the first Hunger Games Book. I hope you see them as the children they were, I hope you have even grown to care about them. I am a careers apologist (one of the OGs thank you very much) and I hope you have all opened your hearts to them, as well.

Finally.. thank you. I will never be able to thank you all enough for your endless support and comments and likes and reblogs and asks. Thank you to you all. I of course want to give shoutouts as usual. There are so many people beyond this list. Who I don't know well, or I don't talk to enough to want to bother them with a tag (like you @dukeysquid I dont want to bother you). But you are ALL seen. You are all loved.

I cant give one to the og, who has to keep her socials clean, but you know who you are. You are the first person I ever told about this fic, and have been around for allll the changes. Thank you friend.

@mollywog a TRUE og who has stuck around even though this fic is far far from her usual andher cup of tea. She's a real one. I love her. I thank you, friend.

@cyansadness another OG friend. I don't even know what you're into these days..but thank you for listening to the earlier iterations.

@bodyelectric77 a NEW friend, who has given me such insight on Enobaria and the older careers. Thank you for taking a chance on this fic which is not in your usual wheelhouse.

@crookedlyniceperson I am so sad for my last set of memes, but so thankful for the memes that brought us together. Thank you, and I cannot believe the insane AU in our DMs that I'm going to bring up after this immediately in the DMs. Thank you.

@clarascrabarmy ANOTHER OG who I always feel like i'm bothering, but I could COUNT ON YOU to read these when I was dropping them at 4 am when I was on night shift. I love you, and I thank you.

@lwveless my little college baby I dont know if you're even around but I wanted to give you love for loving Marvel with me.

@kentwells a TRUE BACKBONE of this fic. A sounding board of all my insanity. I want you ALL to know that the outcome of Glimmer and Marvel (Namely them not being back together) is entirely her fault <3 It was her idea and it is her fault. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Ultimately, I cannot thank @ohhowwehavefallen enough. In the last nine months you have become one of my legitimate besties. You have supported me here and in my actual life beyond anything I can put into words here. Our constant, non stop Clato aus and talks literally keep me going on my bad days. I love you. I thank you. And of NOTE: She is entirely responsible for the wedding rites of District Two. I struggled so much creating them, it took me forever to figure out and I owe the answer to you. I owe this fic to you. I love you. Thank you bestie.

Fun facts:

The kids at the end are not named because it is hard to name them but I have ideas <3

There are jokes for most of my friends here

The sequel is called Picket Fences, Sharp as Knives (High Infidelity, Taylor Swift)

Alright.

AO3

tumblr masterpost

Title from The Great War, Taylor Swift.

The End.

Thirteen months after the end of the war

“Clove, stand still.”  Glimmer clicks her tongue, hands tugging tighter the fabric at the small of Clove’s back for emphasis. “If you fidget I can’t get these buttons. I don’t know what I was thinking when I added them, knowing Cato’s probably just going to rip them off like a heathen–”

“Oh no he won’t, Glimmer, you have no idea how much he’s going to love it.” Clove assured, taking in the length of her body in the mirror. It was the first time she had seen the dress too, and unsurprisingly Glimmer did far surpass any expectation she had. “You missed your calling with design, seriously, this is insane. You made this?”

The ivory crepe fabric was fit like a second skin through her thighs, where it fell freely to the floor, even fanning out a little behind her. The trail end of the train had little windows of lace, with the entire trim a continuous border of hand placed lace appliqués. The top of the dress was similarly overlain with lace, a few pieces trailing up at her hips before coming to cover the entire top half of the dress. The thin v-shaped straps were made of the intentionally placed lace, and though the entire back of the dress was open from the middle of her back upwards, a couple appliqués seem to float along the top of the fabric. Even the open sides are overlapped with the ivory design. The most unexpected aspect may be the deep cut of the sweetheart neckline, and the large strip of open skin from her neck to midway down her sternum.

“Of course I made it Clove! It’s just for you! I even used the lace from that dress, like you wanted. I was worried I didn’t have enough but with the open neckline I made it work.” Glimmer hooks the last button with the use of her littlest finger nail, pushes herself to standing. “It’s going to be the only wedding dress I ever make, though. It’s an honor but I was so afraid of messing it up. Besides…everyone else is dead, already married, or not going to be.” 

Clove turns to the side, catching the back of the dress in the mirror so she can fully appreciate it. She could not, no matter even if she wanted, wipe the smile that stretched across her face. “I know you think the deep plunge is a lot, but I don’t want to ruin it with blood–”

“I know, I know, you District Two freaks have a fucking blood ritual.” Glimmer bristles, taking her hand to wipe at Clove’s side, to swipe away some of the golden glitter from her own dress that transferred in the hustle and bustle of getting dressed. “You know in District One we just exchange jewelry like normal people.”

“We do that too.” Clove teases, bringing her left hand up to wiggle her fingers in front of Glimmer’s face. There was certainly no lack of the jewelry aspect either, with a flashy, oval shaped diamond with the equally shining gold band that had come to live on Clove’s left hand. “And it’s not a District Two tradition, Glimmer, it’s a District Two Victor tradition. We are the only ones that are left– we’re also the only two victors who have ever married each other. We have to do it.”

Glimmer grabs at Clove’s left hand, running her thumb over the diamond with a reverence only a girl from One, especially one with no marriage prospects of her own, would manage. “I just want to know how he got it. The diamond mines in one have been closed from the war, this should be impossible to get. I’ll never get my hands on one of these, and my cousin worked in gemstone acquisition. I should theoretically have a whole closet full.”  

If she can smile any bigger, she somehow manages. Clove twists at the ring on her finger, exceptionally excited to add another band underneath in just a short hour. “He’s had it for years. From before the war, back before the Quarter Quell....he had it since the seventy fourth games.” 

“I don’t think anyone loves anyone else more than he loves you.” There is a wistful edge to her voice that Glimmer tries her best to tamper, though the loss of love still does not sting any less even now, almost exactly one year after the end of the war. “It’s extraordinary.” 

Clove grabs Glimmer by her wrists, wrapping the woman’s arms around her waist so they were half hugging, still facing the mirror. Glimmer rests her chin on top of Clove’s shoulder, careful not to disrupt the soft, free flowing curls that were still cooling at her shoulders. “Thank you, Glimmer.” 

Clove takes a moment to soak in Glimmer, too. She would have laughed, and maybe stabbed, anyone who told her two or three years ago that Glimmer Belcourt from District One would be standing here getting her ready for her wedding. And yet, here she was. 

Looking at their reflection in the mirror she could see there was finally a little bit more to Glimmer, far more like the girl she met in the capitol, and not like the starved skeleton of a girl she found in district thirteen. Her hair was perfectly curled and incredibly shiny. Her skin had the healthiest, most intrinsic glow to it, with the most beautiful pink flush in her cheeks. Even the gold shimmery ball gown– yes, ball gown– that she wore only added to the warm tones in her skin. Oh Glimmer, how she did indeed shine once again. 

“Glimmer? Why did you pick a glittery ball gown for a wedding in my backyard?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, craning her neck to make eye contact with Glimmer directly rather than with their reflections. “It is summer, isn’t all that tulle going to weight you down.”

Glimmer cracks a smile– a genuine, gorgeous smile that Clove had not seen since a time before the war, a time before Glimmer’s heart was broken, a time long ago on a rooftop in the capitol– and gives half a shrug. “I don’t think I'm going to get many opportunities after this. I always wanted to wear one.”  She steps back, giving a little spin for Clove to truly appreciate her hard work on her own dress. It was solid gold, glitter covering every spot of the tulle underneath. The dress sat just off her shoulder like a princess, and truthfully the dress moved around her like something of a fairy tale. “Cash always got to wear big princess dresses in her interviews and parties and stuff after she won. I was so jealous, and when I won I was so so excited to get my turn. Cash was always in pink and I was hoping I’d get the same..they skipped the ballgown stage with me and went right to the– yeah. I just…always wanted to wear one. They never let me be pretty, it was always sexy and sultry and glamorous. I just wanted to be pretty.  And today is my last chance… Thank you, Clove. For letting me have this.”

Clove’s hand slips down to grab Glimmer’s and gives the softest squeeze. “You look so, so pretty. You look beautiful.” 

“You look beautiful, Clove. Thank you for letting me be part of this. Even though I am your only friend–” Glimmer teases, smile never leaving her face, revealing that it is truly just a joke.

“Oh way to ruin me trying to be nice,” Clove taunts, but turns to face the mirror once again. “Thank you, too, Glimmer. For all of it. The dress. Being here. Buttoning me in.”

“Of course! Now, I think I'm about done…oh! Do you need lipstick, I know you’ll just get it all over him, but–”

“Blood ritual, Glimmer.”

“Right. Freaks. Okay!” Glimmer reaches down to fan Clove’s dress out behind her, gently running her hand over Clove’s bare arm. “Okay. You look beautiful. Enobaria should be in soon to do your hair… I’ll see you out there.” She pauses, taking a moment to appreciate her months of hard work, finally coming to a head on Clove’s body. She lets out a content little sigh, approving of her work, approving of the little victor girl in front of her. “I’m just… really really happy for you, Clove.” She squeezes her arm one last time before slipping out the door, a flurry of gold and glitter.

Clove takes her final moment alone to look at herself in the mirror. She looks more adult than she ever has in her entire life, in a tight white dress, long dark curls free around her shoulders. It is different than any other time she has been dressed like this in her life. There is no Capitol makeup obscuring her freckles, no intricate twists and pins in her hair.  Notably, of course, are the faded scars along her shoulders, elbows, wrists. In a different world her scars would be wiped away, her skin unblemished and holding no evidence of the horrors she endured. Now her skin bears the proof of her survival. 

She had begged Glimmer to give her sleeves to cover them. Glimmer in return had insisted there just wasn’t enough lace for sleeves, and even if it were untrue, maybe now Clove could see that she was right to deny her request. 

Her moment alone is only brief, when the bedroom door in her usually untouched Victor’s Village house flies open again. This time, another blonde flurry of tulle rushes in, this one only half the size of the last. 

Cora rushes in, in her little white dress. It’s gorgeous, too, with layers and layers of tulle with beautiful hand beading on the edges that make her look like she wears snow covered rose petals. Glimmer clearly spent excessive time on this dress, too.

“What else am I going to do with my time?” Glimmer had asked when Clove insisted she didn’t need to go to all these lengths for them. 

Clove turns from the mirror to look at her sister in law, and with the girl’s ever increasing height she doesn't even need to kneel to hug her any longer.  “Oh you look like a princess, Cora.” She pulls her into her arms, leaning down to kiss the top of her perfect, ringlet curls. “An absolute princess.” She does crouch down just a little, holding Cora’s angelic little face in either of her hands to look at her from eye level. 

“Cato’s jeeeeealous I get to see you and he can’t.” Cora gives her a mischievous smile, one that Clove had seen on Cato hundreds of times and hopefully would see hundreds more. “You look soooo pretty Clove..” Cora reaches her hand out and gently touches the lace on Clove’s hip. “This is so sparkly.”

Clove puts her hand on top of Cora’s, squeezing so gently. “Glimmer really knows what she’s doing, huh?” 

At the mention of the blonde woman Cora somehow lights up even more. When Cora met Glimmer it was like the stars aligned for them both. Glimmer, who needed to see this beautiful little girl grow up safe, loved, and far from the grasp of the games and the capitol and Snow’s best clients. Cora, who thinks she has a real life princess in her family, to teach her all the things Clove never got to learn as an orphan girl. “She has a pretty princess dress, too, Clove.”

“You should tell her that, she’ll love to hear it.” Clove straightened herself, afraid to wrinkle the tight fabric of her gown. “Thank you for coming over to see me, since everyone’s probably having so much fun over with Cato.”

Cora gives a little half shrug, bouncing forward onto her toes before rocking back onto her little mary jane heels. “Marvel is lying on the couch saying he’s sick, and he won’t get up. Finnick is telling him to rally.. What does ‘rally’ mean, Clove?”

Clove’s eyes go wide, and she would not be shocked if alarm is written on her face. That is not something she was anticipating explaining to Cora for at least seven or eight more years. “You know, you should ask Cato when you go back, that sounds like a boy thing.” 

The little girl accepts that answer, and nods enthusiastically. “Okay! Oh! Clove! I have a present for you!”

“A present for me?” Clove kneels down to her height again, disregarding the fear over wrinkles and creases in the fabric. There was so much more in life than the perfect press of a dress. “That's so sweet, Cora, you didn’t have to do that–”

“It’s yours though!” Cora digs into the little pocket of her dress, fishing out a little silver pile that she holds out in the palm of her hand towards Clove. “You told me to keep it safe, see? Do you wanna wear it?”

It takes all in Clove not to grab the necklace out of her hand, to snatch it and keep it safe as soon as she recognizes what it is. She doesn’t have to, because Cora unclips it for her and gestures like she wants to secure it around her neck for her. With a nod, Clove pulls her hair out of the way, and blinks hard, willing away tears that would otherwise ruin the minimal makeup she was amenable to wearing. Clove runs the tip of her fingers over the script C, the sterling silver chain tarnished and worn, emblematic of over twenty years of wear. 

Clove pulls her in, both hands around her little shoulders as her hand comes to cradle the back of her head. “Thank you, Cora Jade. Thank you so much for keeping it safe for me.” She kisses the side of her temple as the door flies open once again. 

“Clove lets get this- oh! Cora. Cato is looking for you.” Enobaria warns before she steps into the room. “Something about getting to sample the cookies–”

“Bye Clove!” 

The little girl nearly runs out the door and out the door before Clove can process it, and she is left staring at the doorway where Enobaria enters.

“God damn, look at you Enobaria” Clove calls out, pursing her lips and looking her mentor up and down. Enobaria rolls her eyes but leans on the door frame. She’s opted for a well tailored black velvet suit, except that her skin is completely bare underneath the jacket that is held together with a single gold button. Her natural curls frame her face, tamed only by the gold victor’s crown around the center of her forehead. “You look hot.”

“Yeah, well, were you expecting me to be in a ballgown like Glitter, she looks ridiculous. I didn’t know we were playing dress up today.” Enobaria flashes her a coy grin, a grin that is no longer serrated like a shark, but restored to her natural, blunt smile after the war. No need to upkeep a defense when the threat is eliminated. 

“Oh be nice, she feels pretty, Baria. Let her feel pretty.” Clove warns, holding her hands out to take the bundle of flowers that Enobaria brings her in her left hand. “And it’s Glimmer, You really should know her name if you’re going to continue to sleep with her sister.”

“Chill, I know her name. And I'm kidding, I had to talk Cash out of feathers this morning. You’re welcome.” Enobaria’s eyes roam from her toes to the tip of her head and she gives just the slightest nod of approval. “You look like such a grown up.”

“I’ve been an adult for a minute, Baria.” Clove reminds her, but does turn her head to catch her appearance in the mirror once again. She feels almost vain for the way she keeps looking at herself, but if there is ever a moment to feel that, it’s now. “I feel like I wore a lot of dresses on the tour that showed a lot of skin, too-”

“And you were a child, then. A little girl playing dress up, even if you didn’t think so. Now, you look like such a woman. You are just beautiful” Enobaria comes behind Clove, and brushes her hair back off of her lace capped shoulders. She looks at their shared reflection a little longer, and Enobaria can’t help but imagine Clove’s mother would have looked all the same. 

“Noone uses that word very often for me, but you all keep saying it today.” Clove shifts the flowers in her hands– she isn’t entirely sure what they are but they are red and white and there is no rose in sight– and swallows her pride as she locks eyes with Enobaria. “You told me I was going to thank you, one day. Back when you told me you were pulling us from the same games. You said I’d thank you one day, and I guess that day is today. Thank you. For not letting us kill each other, or die together. Thank you for keeping me alive my entire life. In so many ways, I wouldn’t be here right now, if you hadn’t been there.” 

“Keep telling me I'm right, I like to hear you admit it.” Enobaria teases, but gently squeezes both of her arms. “I’m proud of you, Clove. Do I wish it were literally anyone but Cato, yes, but I'm still proud of you.” Before Clove can refute, she turns her away from the mirror and to face her. “I’m kidding. I’m not kidding about the fact that we all know you should have chosen something other than white to wear considering what you did on national television–”

“Enobaria!”

“I’m proud of you. I mean it. Now. Lift your chin.” Enobaria nudges the tip of her chin up with her knuckle, before reaching to lift the golden band of metal from inside her suit pocket. 

She centers Clove’s head, before gently and intentionally placing her well earned Victor’s crown along the top of her head. Once it is settled she pulls her loose curls to the front, untucking pieces from behind her ear. Once she is happy, she places her hands on Clove’s shoulders and twists her to face the mirror. “There. You’re ready. The last Victor of District Two..”

It had been a debate, how many of the traditions to follow. District Two had enough Victors that they had their own marriage traditions. It was questionable, if in a world without games did it really make sense to wear the crowns and say the lines? Ultimately they decided, yes. Because before they were here, before they were considered rebels, before they were even victors…they were partners. Partners who gave their entire lives to end up here. 

“Thank you.” Clove emphasizes again, nodding at herself in the mirror. The dress, the flowers, the crown… he’ll love it. “I think i’m ready.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you down there then. If you change your mind just say the word, we can sneak out the front.” Enobaria promises, stepping back, giving her one final look over before turning to leave. “Good luck.”

“Wait!” Clove freezes, suddenly overly aware of the pounding in her chest, the deafening sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. She has not done any of this alone, and she will not start now. “Will you walk with me?”

Enobaria pauses, and cocks her head as if she’s debating it before cracking a smile and holding out her hand. “Thought you’d never ask, kid”

Clove is unsure if she blacks out in the following moments or if time skips on her, but the next thing she knows is she is on the other end of a short aisle from Cato. 

Cato. Identical crown on his head, perfectly tailored black tuxedo clinging in all the right ways. She notices the white button down underneath is unbuttoned most of the way down his chest, and if she weren’t so aware of the blood pounding in her ears she’d make fun of him for it. 

She wants to kiss that absolutely infuriating smirk off his face, and she’s about to. When Clove looks up and catches his eyes with her own she is sure her heart stopped. She’s vaguely aware of Enobaria to her right, holding her arm and guiding her the twenty or so steps, but all Clove really can recognize is him.

She doesn’t absorb their friends line either side of the short aisle, in perfectly floral lined chairs. Johanna making a face, or Annie and Finnick waving with their baby. She doesn’t notice that Glimmer is sitting directly beside Marvel, her dress acting practically as a blanket over Marvel’s hands. Cashmere and Gloss are there, somewhere amongst the florals. She does not notice Cato’s mother in the front or little Cora in her lap. There are others– kids they went to the academy with, friends of his parents– but none of them matter, not now. 

All Clove knows is that the second she’s in reach of him, he grabs her by the forearms and pulls her into a burning, heated kiss with a hand on her face. Clove half heartedly tosses the flowers in her hands in the general direction of Glimmer, and grabs firmly on the unbuttoned edges of his shirt to pull him into her. 

“Hey! Not yet.” Brutus interrupts from his place at the head of the altar and the laughs of their friends pull them out of their locked embrace. 

Even when they pull away, his hands are still on her hips, holding her flush against him. “Hi.” He whispers, a boyish smile spread across his face, a joy in his eyes that she isn’t sure she’s ever seen. 

“Hi.” Clove whispers back, a heat in her face that she is all too aware of as she catches the way his eyes are trailing down the front of her dress and her body. 

Brutus must repeat himself once or twice before finally reaching out and breaking the reverie in which they stare at each other by nudging Cato’s shoulder. 

“For the third time…” He starts, and the distinct howling laugh of Johanna firmly plants them in reality. “I never thought I would be officiating a backyard victor wedding a year after a war ended the Hunger Games.” Brutus explains, before giving a jerk of his head to signal Clove to take a step back away from Cato, who is still holding her body against his. She obliges begrudgingly, knowing the moments they have left apart are counting down by the second. 

As Brutus begins to read from a long book of District Two traditions, Clove feels Cato tighten his grip on both of her hands. “You look incredible.” He mouths, and Clove can’t help but feel the blush rising to her face again.

“Like the lace?” She mouths in response, and sees the recognition fall over his face as his features soften just enough for Clove and Clove alone to notice.  

“Like I was saying.” Brutus raises his voice, once again snapping the two of them back into the moment beyond just themselves. “ In District Two, we are not known for verbal displays of love. We do not have deep professions of love through vows. This tradition is rooted deep in the history of District Two Victors. We are raised and trained in bloodshed. We are also aware of the vulnerability of allowing someone to raise a weapon against us, and trust them so entirely not to cut too deeply. This is particularly special for these two, for many many reasons. As all of us know, they are the only two District Two Victors to marry each other, and they will be the only ones to ever do so. What is most special, of course, is that these two were raised to be partners. I remember the day we paired them up, this giant monster of a boy and this feisty, scary little girl. They hated each other and then when they didn’t hate each other was when it became a problem for Enobaria, myself, and the other trainers. We made them too good of partners, because here we are today. What you’re about to witness is the blood oath of Victors. It is tradition to use their weapon of choice. Cato, will be first.”

Their hands fall as Enobaria comes and first, places the hilt of a sword in his hand, before slipping the handle of a knife into hers. Vaguely, Clove can hear Glimmer go “oh my god an actual blood ritual’ from her place in the front row of chairs, followed by a whispered “fuck I hate blood” immediately after from Marvel. 

Clove takes a step back, making room for the duration of the silver blade of the sword between them, and tilts her chin up to give him space. She does not flinch when the sharp tip slices through the top layer of her skin overlying her heart, she does not unlock her eyes from his when she feels the sticky warmth of blood pooling and dripping down the front of her chest. It’s not deep, but it’s enough to sting. Her eyes are locked on his, never once breaking when she feels his thumb wiping through the blood on her chest.  She feels like prey and a prize at the same time, with the dark look in his eyes locked on her. He breaks their locked gaze to look down at her hand, where he slides a solid gold ring onto her left hand, resting securely above the diamond she already wears. 

She does not even wait for instruction that she is next. She steps forward and the knife in her hand closes the space between them, and Clove cannot help but flick her wrist into the shape of a C as she slices into the skin directly over his heart. She hesitates, for only a moment, watching the blood run down the plane of his chest, before she too runs her thumb over the blood. Clove cannot get her hands to work fast enough as she grabs his left hand in both of hers, and works as fast as she can to get the gold band on his hand, to claim him as hers, hers, hers forever. 

Brutus is talking again, but it doesn’t matter. He’s got her by the waist, and she’s holding his face in her hands. She brings her bloodied thumb to his lips, smearing his own blood along his lower lip as he does the same to her. 

“I love you.” He whispers first, pressing his forehead against hers, pulling her body against his, taking careful care to only touch the bare skin of her back with his bloodied finger, not daring to stain the lace she wears. 

“I love you.” Clove responds, and is somewhat aware of Brutus in the background formally announcing them as married in the rites of victors. Cato Hadley and his wife Clove Kentwell Hadley.

 Her thumb hovers over his lip, before she threads her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re my partner.”

“You’re mine.” Is all Cato gets out in response before he crushes his lips into hers. 

The taste of blood and each other is familiar and enchanting and all exciting all at once. 

It tastes like victory. 

Pictures, dinner, all of it passes in a blur. 

It’s nearly night now, and drinks are long past flowing. Cato’s mother has taken Cora to Clove’s house for the night, allowing the adult behavior to come out in full force. 

Clove is pressed into his side, his arm around her hips, hand firmly grasping the top of her thigh, when the sun starts to go down and Marvel makes a point to gather everyone’s attention.  

“Hey guys, you all unfortunately know who I am. Noone asked me to speak, in fact Cato explicitly begged me not to this morning, and Clove threatened that if I did she’d cut off my-”

“Anyway!’ Glimmer interrupts, taking the champagne glass from his hand and holding it at her side and out of his reach. “I also was told not to do this. But I planned this whole thing, and so I think I can say whatever I want. Besides, you owe us this, because we did keep watch while the two of you fucked in the middle of the Hunger Games. Also, the world was convinced for a little while that all four of us were-”

Marvel interrupts before she can continue to ramble on.“Originally, we were going to do this separately. I was going to talk about Cato, she was going to talk about Clove. I’m sure no one's expecting Glimmer and I to be doing this together..this is quite literally as close as we’ve physically been to each other in months.” Marvel begins, and turns his attention directly to Cato and Clove. 

“What are they doing?” Clove gets out through clenched teeth, pseudo-rage flashing in her eyes. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the pure joy she felt, but she couldn’t find it in her to actually be angry with them. 

“Embarrassing themselves.” Cato pulls her closer, and leans them back in their chairs. “What's the worst they could say?”

“Noone expected us to be friends! We all could have so easily ended up in the same games, all of us dead.” Glimmer begins, a giggle escaping her that had Clove not been with her all day, she would have assumed to have been nervous. But no, that was the giggle of a drunk girl, who had been drinking mimosas since sunrise, that is about to recount something horrendous. “But by all accounts..things worked out for us. The stars aligned, fate stepped in..whatever you want to say. And I know Clove didn’t like me the day I met her. I can’t blame her, I looked at her and said we should have a double wedding and look where we are! They’re married and me and Marvel here can’t look at each other for more than five minutes without one of us leaving in tears–”

“He was drunk crying about her this morning. He had three shots and went down, going on and on about how he threw away the love of his life.” Cato leans over to whisper to his wife, who whips her head over to look at him with wide, amused eyes. “Finnick was literally holding his head in his lap like..stroking his hair. It wasn’t even eight a.m. yet.”

“I heard about that… You need to teach your seven year old sister what rally means, by the way.” Clove admits, poking him in the knee playfully. 

“Well one of us wasn’t stupid enough to throw away the best thing we’d ever have.” Marvel gets out, and Clove gasps so loudly at his repetition of the words Cato just whispered that everyone whips their head around to look at her this time. “Anyway! Clove also found me exceptionally annoying, and it’s okay, everyone does!”

“But what Clove has never heard about, is this story. We met Cato during his tour, of course, and he was this cocky kid. We thought he was just a standard District Two victor, nothing special.” Glimmer goes on, this time bringing the glass she confiscated from Marvel to her own lips and draining it. Clearly, the slip from Marvel left her flustered, too. “But, then it was the seventy third games. And Cato would not shut up about how good this girl was. He never looked away from her on screen. He stole all the sponsors talking about how incredible she was. He thought he was being so nonchalant and sly about it…but we all knew.”

“And I remember getting a knock on my door in the middle of the night. It was Glimmer, but I was positive it was someone saying Clove died and that Cato was coming to kill us all. Because I knew, if Clove had died, every single one of us, our tributes, and anyone else he could get his hands on, we're going to be dead.”

“And then it was down to the final few. I remember him sitting on that on that couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together so so nervous. And she threw this knife and she missed and I saw the color drain from his face. The fear in his eyes when he thought you were going to die, Clove, I wish I could say that was the only time I had ever seen it.” Glimmer shakes her head, the curls in her hair starting to slowly fall and frizz around her face like a little halo. “But then she won. And most of us were there when it happened, most of us remember the way he jumped up. And Clove, without thinking, he pumped his fist in the air and he said “that's my girl.” And we had all known. But the look on his face..I’ll never forget it. That boy was so deeply in love, and today I am so sure he still is.” 

Marvel clears his throat, and it is clear from the way his face drops that there is a serious turn about to be taken. “I mentioned that we were originally going to speak only for one of them. But, it is a disservice to the way they love each other to do that. I went through the worst experience of my entire life with Clove, in the capitol, and Glimmer similarly can speak for what she went through with Cato. We’re so uniquely privileged to have seen the way you both love each other so deeply. Most of you know, or unfortunately were part of, the horrific things we went through in the Capitol. Clove…she had it worse than maybe anyone. We all know that Clove is incredibly stubborn, and incredibly strong. What I am unfortunately aware of, myself, is the extent of what was done to her. It is not my story to tell. But I know that all those fuckers wanted was to get her to scream, and she refused. She wasn’t going to give them that. The only thing Clove ever asked for, wanted, and she’s going to kill me for exposing this, but the only time I ever saw her cry in those entire months of torture…was Cato. It was towards the very end, and I was scared, truly scared, to know they had brought her to the point of crying for him even alone in her cell... because I thought that meant we were all going to die if even Clove was at her breaking point. There is a deep, deep, incredible trust and love between them, beyond anything I have ever seen.”

At some point Glimmer had started crying, because it is through heavy tears that she concludes her aspect. “We are so lucky, to be witnesses not only to today, but to the way you two love. Through multiple Hunger Games and forced separation and a war..there’s never been a moment where I thought of you as separate. You are always Cato and Clove. Please don’t kill me for saying this, but I mean it, when I say you are my best friends. I do not think I would be alive without the two of you feeding me and pushing to keep going. I’m also really really excited for you two to have babies for me to be Auntie Glimmer to, I’m already in my fairy godmother dress, so if you two could like…hurry up with that and maybe give me a girl in like…nine months I’d really love that, thank you. We love you guys.”

Marvel’s hand experimentally finds the small of Glimmer’s back, and she doesn’t flinch away. He grabs a champagne glass off a table and raises it infront of him. “To Cato. And To Clove.”

Glimmer interrupts with a smile on her face that juxtaposes the tears running over her cheeks “to Cato and Clove.”

When Cato turns his head to look at Clove, who’s curled into him, he notices the way her eyelashes are clumped and wet. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up.”  Clove warns, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand, before she more properly turns her body to fully lay against his side. 

Enobaria takes the moment, then, to stand up while the attention is still drawn all while drawing the attention away from Glimmer and Marvel, who seem to be heading towards the bar set-up together. She’s also clearly enjoyed her night, her jacket now unbuttoned (and missing the single button), the fashion tape underneath holding it closed, but more notable was the pink lipstick faintly visible along her neck and collarbones. 

“I..couldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass you.” She starts gesturing towards Clove. “As everyone here knows, I raised Clove. We can say I was a mentor to her, but in reality, I helped raise her. I met her when I was twelve, and she was two. Her mother was my mentor, and we all know that her mother is not here with us now. I only feel so inclined to do this, because of the fact her mother isn’t here to do so. I remember Clove as this tiny tiny toddler, about the same height as now. I remember the day her bitch of a grandmother dropped her off at my house to teach her how to throw knives. What she didn’t know until right now is I really had no idea, and actually had to ask Cashmere and Gloss how to teach her. But hey, clearly, I made her a victor anyway. And then… there was Cato. This little infuriating prick of a kid, who broke her clavicle the day they met. I knew he was going to be a pest in my life, ever since. They were the best partners though. They knew each others moves, their strengths, and their weaknesses. They were good and then when they were teeangers exactly how good of partners they were became all of our problem. Clove..she was traumatized. A dead teenage mother will do that to you. I was not worried about her…repeating…that statistic. Until fucking Cato Hadley won the games and came home a cocky Victo.  And then…I caught her sneaking out of his house the day he got home. I about killed her. I went home, and I called Cash, BEGGING her to help me figure out how to keep her from getting pregnant too. Cato, Clove, remember to thank Cashmere for all the years of risk free sex, later.” 

“Maybe she should also be thanking Cashmere for all the risk free sex, look at her right now?” Clove murmurs, and the shaking of Cato’s chest underneath her is all she needs to know he is holding back a laugh. 

“I was ready to kill Cato, because I was sure he was going to distract her from her last year of training. But to his credit, and I hate saying that, he pushed her harder than even I did. I remember telling him to back off, and when he didn’t, I was so hopeful Clove was going to get over him. Clearly..I had no such luck.” Enobaria gives a smile that is so soft without her filed teeth that it nearly does not look like her. “When she was in the games, and Cato and I went through the fear of losing her together…I decided he was okay. If she was going to pick one, at least he was a victor, too. And as much as I hate to say it..he loved her then, too. When they went into the quell..I knew they were not going to come out without each other. I wanted to kill them, and I do mean that literally, when I saw them covered in that blood and going into the cornucopia, but then…everything went to hell. I was in the dark about them the entire war. I did not know if they were alive, I did not know if they were dead, though I assumed that they were. I’ll never forget when one day, when she appeared on that stupid video and she looked..off. One of the worst moments of my life was when I heard her scream for him in the background of that video. Because I knew…I knew he was not there. I did not know if he was alive, but I did know that if he was, he was going to get to her and get her home. And he did. I cannot believe I am about to say this, but I am so happy to see you marry each other. I am also very glad it is now and not because you were seventeen year old teen parents. Above all else…I am so proud of you both. Cato…Clove..you are both my victors.” 

At the conclusion of her speech, Clove pushes herself up just in time to meet Enobaria half way as she leans across the little table to hug her. “Thank you, Enobaria.”

One of the biggest joys of their wedding is to watch their friends enjoy themselves. 

“Annie!” Clove grins, throwing her arms open to offer the redheaded woman a hug. “Thank you for making it, I  know it has to be hard with the–where is that baby of yours?”

“Oh, Glimmer has him.” Finnick explains, taking his turn to hug Clove as well. He nods his head to the corner of the room, where Glimmer is seated at a little table, gently rocking the three month old baby to sleep. “She also gave us the whole Aunt Glimmer Fairy godmother talk this morning.”

Glimmer is in fact swaying in her chair, clearly singing some song to the boy. The longing in her face is evident, even from across the room, from the way she offers her finger to the baby in her arms to how she holds his bronze covered head intentionally above the glitter of her dress so as to not irritate his baby skin. 

“I think she should just have one herself.” Annie remarks, leaning her head against Finnick’s chest. “I think she’s meant for it.”

“Yeah, well, she’s missing half that equation.” Cato recalls, pulling Clove’s back to his now entirely bare chest, his shirt having lost the rest of the buttons throughout the night. 

“I don’t think she will be for long.” Finnick suggests as Marvel settles himself in the seat directly next to Glimmer, reaching out to tickle the bottom of the baby’s pajama covered foot. Glimmer gives him a smile before redirecting her attention to the baby, but Marvel, oh Marvel never looks away from the expressions on Glimmer’s face.  

Johanna finds them as they’re sitting next to the cake, in their own little world, spooning bites of the confection into each other's mouths.

“Okay, Lovebirds, where are all the hot people for me to go home with?” She remarks, slamming herself down in a seat across from the two of them. 

“Nice to see you too, Jo.” Clove murmurs, wiping icing off the corner of her mouth gracefully. “I dunno, I bet Glimmer would be down.”

“Are you serious? Her and Marvel literally snuck off into your house fifteen minutes ago. I don’t want to get in bed with them.”  Johanna scoffs, shaking her head. “I thought Cato would have a hot brother or something here..”

“Wait Glimmer and Marvel did what?” Cato interrupts, holding up a hand to stop her from continuing with her subject change. “In our house?”

“Well, in Clovey Girl’s house I think. Marvel had a plate full of cake and a bottle of the good stuff in his hand too, like the kind of shit Haymitch used to hoard at the games…speaking of Haymitch! You didn’t even invite them? Miss Mockingjay I understand, but after all Peeta went through with us..” Johanna clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Cold even for you two.”

“We did invite them, Johanna.” Cato defends, reaching behind them and getting another slice of cake for him and his wife– oh he could say it in public now— to share. 

“Katniss is still on District Twelve house arrest. Peeta didn’t want to come without her. He did make the cake though. That kid can bake.” Clove swipes her finger through the ivory icing, before dolloping it on Cato’s nose. “We tried.”

“Ugh, you two are so gross. I’m going back to the bar.” She pushes herself to a standing position, surveying the room before straightening her dress. “....congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks, Johanna.” Cato calls as she walks away, before pulling Clove fully onto his lap. 

“We did it.” He teases her, pressing kisses along the juncture of her neck and shoulder, “You’re my wife, Clovey.”

“I’ve technically been your wife for years.” She turns so she faces him, her arm languidly draped over his shoulder. Clove strokes his cheek with her thumb, and flashes him a wicked grin. “Now it’s just public.” 

“Are we ever going to tell anyone we did this before?” Cato’s hands come to rest on her hips, squeezing, promising of what is to come later in the evening as he leans forward and once again starts kissing from her jaw down her neck. 

She lets out a delighted gasp at the feeling of his lips on her.  “Absolutely not. This is for them. That? That was for us.”

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this. 

It is worth saying that life blooms through the cracks of a broken nation, love takes root in the rubble and ash. It is life itself, it is love embodied, that is a true pioneer species rising like a  phoenix amongst ash riddled towns.

It is the passage of time that lets life and love flourish in the new panem. 

It is friends in District One. Marvel who remembers the way cold aches in the very core of Clove’s body, and always has extra blankets casually lying out for her to take without ever needing to ask.

On a beach in district four, It is Glimmer and Finnick, watching her blonde little girl and his bronze haired little boy playing along the shore, with no care in the world other than their mission to find whole sand dollars and laughing in delight as hermit crabs scurry across their toes. Two children who, along with their siblings and friends, are free. Their childlike innocence intact, their bodies forever their own. 

It is Johanna in District Seven, who finds that she had more in common with career victors than she thought. Or maybe, Cato and Marvel just make her feel like a fucking genius when it comes to women, and thats good enough for her. 

In District Twelve it is a baker and an ex-revolutionary, who are never quite expecting for literal career killers to show up to a tiny little bakery on the edge of the seam. They come looking for cinnamon rolls and maybe tease Peeta a little too much about the status of his relationship. Peeta never turns them away (even if Katniss does pretend not to be in the shop that day, sometimes).

And in District Two. 

It is in the combined efforts of Brutus and Enobaria, in establishing a recreation center for the surviving children of Two. It is far from the training empire it once was, let there be no mistake, but it gives a playground to the ghosts of the victors they once were. It serves as a memorial of sorts to the nearly one hundred and forty tributes who did not come home to District Two.

Cato and Clove, above all else, are happy. 

These days, Clove does not have much use for throwing knives. 

The ache in her body, the sharp pain in her wrists simply isn’t worth it anymore. 

Clove Kentwell Hadley still never misses, but she is so much more than a girl with perfect aim. 

Clove is the friend of the only surviving victors, she is the sister to the most affectionate Hadley she knows. 

They are Aunt Cove and Uncle Cayo to the identical little daughters of their best friends, who wrap their tiny arms around their necks and smother them in honey blonde curls and pure, unfiltered adoration. 

She is half of the best dinner parties– Clove makes the best food, but Glimmer plans the best parties. (It’s a bold statement to call them parties when it’s the four of them and the only other career victors, but Glimmer won’t have it any other way). 

And she is loved. So, so, so loved, by the only man she’s ever trusted, wanted, and needed. 

Clove is no longer just the girl who never misses. 

In fact, three years after the end of the war, the only time Cato finds Clove throwing a knife is in their kitchen. 

Her only goal? 

Trying to earn the brilliant, infectious laugh of their blue eyed, blonde haired infant son in her arms. 

This is the life of a victor. 

The end. 

[alavestineneas]

☆ masterlist ☆

Hunger Games:

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Nothing we can do - chaper 1, chapter 2, chapter 3 - finished

Soul - one-shot

Johanna Mason x fem!reader

Together - one-shot

Alive - one-shot

Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

Forever - one-shot

Silence - one-shot

Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Losing dogs, prt 2 (Poisonous bites) - finished

Glass and mirrors, prt 2 (The start reborn) - finished

Cato Hadley x fem!reader

Home - one-shot

House of the Dragon:

Aegon II Targaryen x OC series:

 King’s will - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - paused

Dune:

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader

i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest -> and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room? -> prt 3

[lost-in-beacon-hills]

I love the Hunger Games books so much. But one thing I don't get is the Careers are horrible people mentality or the Katniss is evil and two deserved the win mentality.

I love Katniss and the original story so much. But I also love Cato and Clove and Marvel and Glimmer.

I don't like how more often them not when I read a fic or look for Fandom content of one of the characters there's likely bashing of the other side. Can't we enjoy every character and wish that they had gotten a chance to be children?

[ervotica]

hey babes, since we both have a raging crush on cato could u do something where a guy is harassing you and he comes to ur rescue 😍 (cliché ik but like he would be so hot doing it, we love a protective man) 

pairing: cato hadley x fem!reader

warnings: cato is possessive and hot, the district 6 boy is a jerk (idk if this is accurate to canon at all but idc sue me)

hunger games masterlist

You're watching Cato practice throwing spears with Marvel on the first day of training. You observe the way his biceps flex, pushing the veins out of his arms as he lifts the weapon over his shoulder and puts his weight behind the throw- you really do pity the ones who will be on the receiving end of him in the coming weeks.

You glance down, twisting a knife between your fingers, watching enraptured as it glides through your digits and light bounces from the metallic blade, throwing a myriad of whites and blues across the other weapons hung on the walls.

You don't hear the boy sneak up behind you, his broad hands coming to rest on your waist in a place he most definitely should not be touching; your elbow drives back into him instinctually as you spin to face him, and you pin him to the wall by your forearm. It's the boy from District 6 - Jason, you recall. He's seemed to be keeping a low profile until now, until his disdain towards Cato has seemed to reignite in a bout of fury. And, well, he has to take it out on someone.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He hums noncommittally.

"I think they call this making alliances, sweetheart," Jason says, grinning crudely. Your blood is running hot, rushing in your ears as you push against his neck with your arm and bare your teeth.

"You call me sweetheart again and I'll cut your eyes out. I don't care where we are," you spit, stepping back. "Leave me alone."

His hand bunches into the back of your t-shirt as you start to retreat and he yanks you backwards; your back hits the wall with a loud thump and you hiss, kicking out at him as he presses his chest to yours and rakes his eyes over every inch of your body.

"You don't wanna do this," you laugh, a smirk creeping onto your face that you just can't hold back as you let him hold you there and wait.

"Why's that? I don't see anyone else around," he murmurs, his face so close you can feel his hot breath. "Just you and me."

You raise your eyebrows before you're tilting your head and screaming over his shoulder.

"Cato! Cato!"

Cato's head snaps up and he thrusts the spear he was using into Marvel's hands; he's across the training room floor before you can even shriek his name again.

Jason doesn’t have time to as much as step back before Cato is behind him, chest heaving in a barely concealed fury, pale face flushed and ready for another fight. Jason is lifted seemingly out of thin air by only the back of his neck and he starts to thrash as he’s tossed across the hard training room floor.

“Are you stupid?” he seethes. “She told you to leave her alone! You’ve just sealed your fate, you’re the first one I’m coming after when we get to that arena.”

You creep up next to him, leaning coyly against Cato’s shoulder as you stare down at the District 6 boy.

“I told you. You shouldn’t have done that,” you tease. Cato's thick arm comes up and over your shoulders protectively as he holds him to the floor with his boot clad foot.

"Come on," Cato says. "We're leaving."

His grip is like iron around your hand, his knuckles white as the blood drains from them. You can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves - shoulders squared, jaw ticking.

He drags you all the way back to the tribute quarters, slamming the door closed behind the pair of you and spinning on his heel to pace the length of the room.

"Cato, c'mon," you murmur. "He's just an asshole. He can be the first one we kill in there."

"It's more than that," he groans. "Why does he think he can come and talk to you like that? That prick has overstepped more than once."

"I know." You tug him back towards you and cradle the side of his neck; he's hot, and his pulse thrums under your touch. "It doesn't matter anymore, he's a prick and we'll get rid of him."

"Okay," Cato whispers, leaning down to brush his nose against your own. You hum and push out the creases in his forehead where his brow has knit. His eyes soften at the gesture, and you smile in response, scrunching your nose as he rubs his cheek against yours. He grumbles.

"Stop being so pretty, I'm trying to focus here."

You laugh and wrap your arms fully around his shoulders and neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to slot your lips between his. His muscles, coiled tight and tense, start to relax at your touch. He presses into you, deepening the kiss, hungry for you. He's consumed by it, by the possessiveness he feels over you, by the rage that Jason laid a hand on you at all. You lose yourself in it: in his smell and his touch and how he feels against you enveloping your senses. Reluctantly, you pull away and grin at him, knuckles brushing his sharp cheekbone.

"C'mon, we gotta start making a plan for the games. I'll put Jason first on the list."

[twobraincellkentwell]

please write anything abt cato im in a drought of fics for him

Absolutely anon, you don’t have to ask me twice! Local Cato simp at your service🫡

Any specific fics? AUs or THG scenarios??

[theology101]

Domesticated Predators - Catoniss Politicking

Two Victors deciding that enough was enough

Also me proving that I'm unable to focus on the projects I'm deeply invested in and instead my brain is filled with Rot the like of which has never been seen

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Hunger Games Masterlist

general masterlist pinned

Cato Hadley - I'll keep us safe

Adding more soon!

[clairesbookstack]

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

GASOLINE

❛ I think there's a flaw in my code

These voices won't leave me alone

Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold

Are you deranged like me?

Are you strange like me?

Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?

Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?

Pointing fingers 'cause you'll never take the blame like me?

And all the people say

You can't wake up, this is not a dream

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being

With your face all made up, living on a screen

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline ❜

-halsey

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 2

Summary: In which Cato falls for a tribute from 10.

A/n: This is on ao3 too btw. Also, sorry for the slow start I kind of want to semi-flesh out the story, but Cato comes in the next chapter.

Pt.1

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Chapter 2 : The Train Ride

Your legs shaked up and down as you waited inside the Mayor’s building. You sat in the lounge room where all the tributes were sent to say their final words to their families. ‘This is it.’ You thought to yourself as your head spun. The room felt as if it was closing in on you as the paranoia set in. Grumbling came from your stomach and you couldn’t tell if you wanted to throw up and shit your fear away. You told yourself to keep breathing, but you were finding it harder and harder to do so. 

“Five minutes.” The peacekeeper said to your brother and father as Amaranto flung the door open. He wheeled your father in who still had that thousand yard stare. 

Scared didn’t cut how you were feeling. Emotions are unpredictable, and you were prone to outburst when you didn’t know how to handle them. Letting out a loud sob you began to bang on Amaranto’s chest, your fists landing on it surely making bruises. “YOU LIED!” Your angry weeping began, “YOU SAID I WOULD BE FINE!” Another yell. Of course it wasn’t his fault, but you needed someone to blame for the circumstances you were put in. 

“No no no, listen.” He tried calming you down, but you only flailed in his arms. “(Y/n) I SAID LISTEN!” He yelled again, but you still threw punches at the poor boy’s chest. 

“ENOUGH!” Came the bellowing voice of your Father, stopping both you and your brother. 

“(Y/n), You are not going to die out there.” Your father spoke. 

“W-what?” Your voice cracked. 

“You heard me girl. You’re not dying in that arena. You’ve got skills, just need to fine tune them and apply them to the games.” He spoke, his dark eyes fixing on yours. “Just think of them like animals.” 

Just think of them like animals.

Amaranto also looked shocked. It was his turn now to console you. 

Your body has gone limp. That rush of adrenaline was long gone and you sat on the floor confused as to what he meant by skills. You were the bottom of the barrel when it came to working in the slaughterhouse. The only reason you hadn’t been fired was because Clarabell was always there picking up your slack. 

“Papa’s right (N/n).” Amaranto spoke,  Grabbing one of your braids he sighed, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes, “You’re not dying out there. You’re gonna come home to me and Papa, and live a long life. Hell, you may even come home to a farm of your own! Just like you’ve always wanted.” He started to break down toward the end and it shattered your heart. The last time you saw Amaranto cry like this was when your mother died. 

“Pa. Amar.. I love you.” You said. Their words were sweet, filled with hope, but they couldn’t distract you from what you already knew. You would die in there, and leave the two of them poor and mourning over your dead body. 

The last three minutes were dedicated to you hugging them in silence, with the occasional “I love you” thrown in the air. Eventually your five minutes were up and you were so blinded by your tears that you couldn’t even tell that the peacekeepers were coming in. 

“WIN! (Y/n)! COME HOME! GET ROPE!” Amaranto yelled as he was forced out the room by the peacekeepers. His last words struck a memory with you. Rope. You hadn’t used one since the 6th grade. Before you could reminisce on the past, Pradian came into the room, his chicken-like top off and instead replaced with a lavender blouse. “Ready dear?” He asked with that Capitol accent. 

Wiping your tears away with your sleeves you nodded. It was difficult to walk, you were still weak from all the distress. At one point during the walk to the train you toppled over, the only thing preventing your body from meeting the floor was Buckley’s wall-like body. It was embarrassing how he had to escort you all the way to the train. 

Meanwhile Pradain kept criticizing the smell of 10, the heat of 10, and how “Those cows would look cuter in pink.” 

“He’s weird huh?” Buckley whispered into your ear trying to lighten up the mood. 

“I’m not sure that’s the right word.” You told him. 

In the distance was a sleek metallic train, it stretched for miles. As you approached the doors of the cart you would be going into, a man and woman stepped out. You recognized them as Ramsey Peckett and Dolly Gleewood, previous victors of the games. 

“I’m sorry you got picked.” Dolly said sympathetically as she wrapped her arms around you. 

“I’m Ramsey. I’ll be your mentor.” The man said as he reached to shake Buckley’s hand who was just a few inches shorter than him. 

“Alright Alright, save the chit chat for later- we’ve got to stay on schedule.” Pradain shoved his watch in the face of the two mentors causing them to roll their eyes. They lead the two of you into the train. 

It looked almost surgical. Silvery metallic colors decorated the cart, white couches were perfectly placed across from each other, the table was a dark wood- one you didn’t recognize. The only color in the room were lavender and teal flowers set in the center of the table, surrounded by lidded silver plates. 

“Go on, eat up- I know I am.” Pradain smiled, the blue on his lips making his teeth seem whiter than they were. He sat down on the table and removed the lid from one of the plates exposing the precious delicacy. It was a honey colored ham, surrounded with herbs and the prettiest tomatoes you’ve ever seen. 

Buckley didn’t hesitate, he sat himself down next to Ramsey and practically devoured a whole cantaloupe. 

“Aren’t you going to eat dear?” Dolly asked, confused as to why a starved girl like yourself wasn’t touching the lavish confectionaries in front of you. 

“I will, just don’t think I can hold it down yet.” You told her, opting to take sips from a glass filled with orange liquid. It tasted delightfully sweet yet had a nice tang to it. “What is this?” You asked her as your sips became more fervent. 

“That’s peach and mango juice.” Dolly said, cutting into her own slice of ham. 

“Calm down boy, food ain’t going nowhere.” Ramsey scolded Buckley, who was still scarfing different foods down his mouth.  He reminded you of the pigs when they would come out to eat. The way they wouldn’t leave room for air. 

“You’re gonna get yourself sick, We don’t want that now do we?” 

Buckley hesitantly stopped. He started to actually chew his food and you watched with awe as he shut his eyes enjoying the flavors of the Capitol food.

“‘S good.” The boy said, the freckles on his cheek stretching as he fit the food in them. 

“Right so then, how about we get to know each other first let's say… 15 minutes, and then we’ll move onto the actual mentoring.” Dolly spoke as she looked over to Ramsey for approval. 

“Are you both our mentors?” Came your voice, which was quiet compared to the chewing of your fellow tribute. 

“No. I’m assigned to Buck here, and you’re all Dolly’s.” Ramsey corrected. “We could join together and mentor the both of you if that's what you want, but remember only one of you is going to come back.” He said with a stress filled sigh. 

Buckley put his utensils down at that comment. Suddenly the food didn’t seem as appetizing. 

There was silence in the room. Both you and Buckley couldn’t look at each other for a while. Eventually you picked up your own fork and began to slowly fill your stomach with food. You were hesitant to try any of the meat since you knew it came from 10, and it just felt wrong for you to eat it, so you opted for just fruits and grains. 

“I’m alright with a joint mentorship if (Y/n) is.” Buckley said finally, causing both the mentors to look at him. 

You wondered why he said that. He most likely didn’t see you as a challenge. Buckley Wheaton was 6’3, muscular, and had the most honey brown hair you’ve ever seen. His whole body was littered with freckles, and his eyes matched that of his hair. You wondered what they fed that boy back in 10 to make him as much of a unit as he was now. Rice, you assumed, since that was mostly what was available. 

The mentors turned their heads to look at you now. You were in the middle of eating a berry that was colored like an angry red. “Sure.” 

“Not much of a talker.” Ramsey said, eyeing you.”Good luck getting words from that one Dolly.” He laughed. 

Dolly only smiled at you sweetly. 

“Nah, (Y/n) is such a talker.” Buckley came to your defense. “Shoot- 8th grade? She wouldn’t shut up about how she was going to write to the Capitol and ask for our horses back. She’s smart too! Top 5 in our class back when we graduated.” He told the mentors. 

Sure you weren’t on bad terms with Buckley, but you also weren’t buddy buddy with him. Your curiosity only grew as to why he was being so damn nice to you. 

“Buckley’s got strength. He’s agile too. Saw him pick up a cow once after chasing it down town for a while.” You spoke. “Rumor has it he’s got good aim too. You know, I saw him  once, when I was with my Papa, he and some of his buddies were messing around with some slingshots, tryna aim at some bean cans” You chewed some food before continuing. “And he knocked down every single can to the ground.”  

Buckley looked at you with a toothy smile. 

“Aww how cute.” Pradain cooed from where he sat.  

“So what's it like being a victor?” You turned your head to look at Dolly, whose curly hair was being tied into a bun. 

“It’s about as comfortable as it gets.” She says, “It’s great until the reality of it all sets in.” She speaks, her hazel eyes looking longingly at the table. 

“Well that’s grim.” Pradain side eyed her. “Ramsey, give me a happy answer.” He rested his chin on his hand as he turned his attention to the male victor. 

“It's got its perks. I mean for one you get a whole house to yourself… you don’t have to worry about starving anymore.” He listed. 

“How come we don’t see you around in the district?” Buckley asked, wiping a drop of food from his shirt. 

“No need to be out.” Dolly says, “The attention it attracts is a little too off putting.” 

“Yeah, the only time we ever really come out is during the night.” Ramsey says, “Of course that’s just personal preference, but like Dolly said, we have everything we need back at home.”

“Then there’s the visits to the Capitol.” Dolly says, sounding a little irritated. 

“Pft, you speak about it like it isn’t the most grand place to be. The Capitol is luxurious, filled with the most up to date technology and the highest fashion in Panem.” Pradain flaunts his nails around. 

“Enough Victor talk. Let’s get into mentoring.” Dolly gets up and excuses herself to the white couch where she waits for the rest of you. 

…

A few hours  pass by. Most of it is filled with questions on how to win the games, how to survive, how to not get caught by the careers. The mentoring is then interrupted by Pradain’s squeal of excitement. 

“We’re here!” He gets up to look over at the window. “Come! Come!” His hands go to both yours and Buck’s shoulder as he pushes you two alongside the window. You see a wall of brick before your eyes get punctured by the white light reflecting off the Capitol’s walls. 

Millions of faces painted almost like clowns fill your range of view. Buckley can’t help but burst out into laughter. You on the other hand look quite disturbed. The people on the other side, however, seemed delighted to see you. Their mouths formed into triangles as they hollered to greet you.

“Welcome to the Capitol!” Pradain says gleefully.

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