#clove kentwell x reader

[nickeverdeen]

The Hunger Games characters getting jealous

Includes: Katniss, Peeta, Gale, Finnick, Cato, Clove

Katniss Everdeen

She’s more insecure than jealous

But if so…

She’d definetly give the person “the stare”

Katniss has a self-doubting kind of jealousy

She’s comparing herself with the other person in some ways

Katniss would indeed need a reassurance from you when the person is gone

Even though she wonn’t admit it

She would just try to bottle her feelings in very unhealthy way

She’ll 100% deny that she’s jealous

“I was not jealous Y/N, I just didn’t really like them”

Peeta Mellark

Tries to act polite

He’s smart and rational enough not to throw hands

Peeta would be really uncomfortable

He is aware that you’re loyal to him, but he can’t help it

He hates being jealous

Peeta would walk up to your side and put his hand around your waist trying to give the person hint

Passive-agressive behaivor

He’d talk with you about it after the person left

Or he just wouldn’t want to “bother” you with it and would try to bottle it up

One of you would at the end bring it up at some point

“So.. you and them? Yeah, right. Sorry”

Gale Hawerthrone

Gale is a very jealous person

He has some insecurities and gets all defensive with the person

Death stares

If the person would flirt with you, man would NOT let that slide

Gale can be rational, but if the person won’t drop it then he can and will throw hands

He’s bittter and snicker more during the interaction

Will deny for his entire life that he got jealous

He wouldn’t even try to cover his jealousy up when being near the person

He’s not gonna talk about it

Just kiss will be pretty much enough to reassure him

“I wasn’t jealous. They were flirting with you! It was enough of a reason for me to act that way!”

Finnick Odair

Even though he doesn’t really have a reason to be jealous he indeed does get slightly at times

Finnick is the most famous guy in whole Capitol, but that doesn’t mean that jealousy can’t get the best of him

Just like Peeta he’d try to act polite

Really, he tries not to be jealous, but he can’t help it

Finnick, feels kinda dumb for being jealous ‘cause he trusts you

He isn’t one to really show it

He’s constantly just bottling it up inside of him

Finnick is prepared for being teased about it later by you, but he doesn’t really mind

Walks up to you and the person and puts his hand on your waist

If the person still wouldn’t get the hint he’d kiss your cheek and call you “love” or “sweetheart”

His sassy side kicks in while talking woth the person

Finnick would let you tease him about it later and he’d probably laugh it off

“Yeah, okay *chuckles* I get your point”

Cato Hadley

Definetly the hard stare or some glances

Cato is the type of a person “punch first, ask second”

He isn’t really insecure, but it does bother him when other people are hitting on you

But if the person isn’t bothering you, he wouldn’t pick a fight with them

He’s more bitter and sassy towards the person

Cato doesn’t really shy away from PDA

So he’s not afraid to wrap his strong arms around you protectively or kiss you

He wants the person to get the hint

If the person is your friend he’d be much calmer ‘cause he doesn’t want to ruin yours and their friendship

Cato can and will flex just to prove the person that they ain’t good enough for you

If the person would dare to touch you in uncomfortable way, Cato would be quick to give them piece of their mind

He ain’t losing you to some jerk from a bar

Extremely affectionate with you during the interigation with the person

“Hey love, who’s that? I see… *hard stare at the person*”

Clove Kentwell

Pretty much like Cate “punch first, ask second”

Clove definetly has some jealousy issues

She very quickly loses her cool when someone starts flirting with you

If you weren’t there, she’d most definetly punch the person

Agressively conforts them

She’s indeed intimidating when she wants to be so the person would probably back off

But if not, things could escalate to the point where she throws hands

You’re pretty much the only person who can calm her down at that point

Death stares

Clove isn’t really into PDA, but at that point she would put her arm around your shoulders or rest her hand on your waist

She doesn’t even hide her jealousy

Will deny her jealousy later at all cost

Clove will talk absolute shit about the person after they leave (unless it’s your friend)

Is very clingy afterwards

If it’s your friend, she’ll get slightly bitter with them, but would calm down

After all, she doesn’t wanna ruin your and the person’s friendship

She’ll start playing with her knifes next to you only to intimidate the person silently

“Hey dickhead! Y/N has a girlfriend!”

[cherryslyce]

Sharp Knives, Sharp Gazes | Clove Kentwell

Synopsis: A dangerous attraction to one of the deadly careers leads to more than you could have bargained for, including unlikely friendships and romance.

Masterlist

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x District 4!Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant (Glimmer lives, careers are OOC because they are not mindless killers). Someone save Finnick before Y/N gives him a heart attack. Marvel is fun to write, even though I'm a Cato fan.

A prickle of anxiety jolted down your spine as you lifted your eyes and met a pair of amused ones. Your eyes flickered down and paused on the grin stretching across her freckled face.

She was undeniably pretty, but the deadly glint in her eyes convinced your fellow tributes to stay away from her. Somehow, you had caught her attention and you would have been endlessly flustered had it not been for the dire circumstances you found yourself in.

“Hey, 4. You look scrappy enough. Good. The last few years your district has produced nothing but disappointments.”

You snap out of your trance and tear your gaze away from the menacing girl from District 2, coming face to face with the smug male tribute from 1–Marvel.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, 1.”

“Feisty. Look, for some reason Clove thinks it would be interesting to bring you into our fold. Don’t look at me like that, she said it, not me. So what do you say? Care to live up to District 4’s legacy as a part of the Career Pack, or are you going to scamper around and die off like a fish out of water?”

The boy finished his (very convincing) speech with a sigh as if you were the terrible inconvenience in this situation. Although, despite how annoyed you grew with him, you respected his skills with a spear and it was apparent he held some begrudging respect for you as well.

“Clove? I thought Cato was your leader? I don’t think he’s open for recruitment, shouldn’t you run this idea past him first?”

“He’s not a dictator, you’ll be fine. Besides, we can all see how valuable you are. You fling around that trident of yours like it’s an extension of your arm.”

Oh. Marvel just praised you. Had you knocked your head too many times on the train ride to the Capitol?

“And then what, you’ll slit my throat in my sleep when I’m no longer of use?”

He smiles a little at your retort before growing serious, an expression so foreign on his face that you couldn't help but wait patiently to hear what he had to say next.

“Maybe. But you have a better chance with us. Who knows, maybe you’ll even win this and get to go home. Bring pride to your district and whatnot.”

You were definitely dreaming. This was the same Marvel who you thought was a bloodthirsty, hormonal time bomb. Turns out he may hate this situation nearly as much as you.

“I’ll think about it. See you at the interviews tonight, Marvel.”

He nods as if expecting your answer, though you catch his eyebrows raising up as you address him properly for the first time.

“See you around, Y/N.”

As he stalks off towards his favorite station--the spear throw station, you look around to see Clove watching you with an unreadable expression. Luckily, it appeared to be less murderous than usual.

Well that’s nice. Better than having her plotting ways to skin me.

It is not until you’re waiting in line for the interviews with Caesar to start that Clove finally approaches you.

“Y/N. Marvel said you would consider joining us in the arena. I look forward to it.”

You gape as you look at the girl, face heating up uncomfortably as you could barely register her words. She looked so…pretty.

The girl looks at you in concealed wonder, eyes twinkling with mischief. You’re confused for a few moments before you make eye contact with an amused Marvel behind her.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Y/N.”

The girl spins around and stalks off towards Cato who’s begun watching the three of you like you’ve all grown another head.

“Smooth. Didn’t know you had the hots for her. I guess you were quite happy that she was the one to ask for you.”

Marvel grins at you, and for once it’s not a condescending ‘I’m better than you’ type of grin. You groan quietly to yourself, too tired to even flinch when he swings an arm around your shoulder and drags you towards the line of tributes.

Well if the other tributes had no idea of your allegiance, they sure did now.

“So you’re with us then?”

“I don’t have any other choice, you’re already clinging to me like a barnacle.”

Cato smiles, oh so minutely, at your remark to Marvel, nodding at you with a reinvigorated respect that he didn’t seem to extend to many.

Glimmer’s pleased grin greets you briefly before she’s being ushered onto the stage, her face morphing into a blinding, albeit fake, smile.

And so it begins. Hopefully Finnick would be able to nab some sponsors for you.

Yeah. Some sponsors would be good right about now.

You were on the verge of just throwing yourself face-first into Cato’s sword.

Glimmer had a close call with a swarm of tracker jackers, and somehow in the mess Katniss managed to escape. To say your allies were pissed would be the understatement of the year.

Seriously, you were sure one of the trees began to wilt after being faced with the withering look Cato sent it.

”Y/N. Go with Clove to gather some wood.”

“Yes, dad.”

Cato looks around before shooting a quick middle finger at you, an exasperated twitch of the lip taking over his face for the briefest moment before defaulting to his usual grimace of contained rage.

You were sure he was somewhat fond of you considering he hadn’t tried to bite your head off yet.

You round on your heel, habitually twirling your trident over your wrist. Clove is not far behind you as you dart your eyes around the trees.

“Once I get my hands on fire girl, I’m going to tear her limb from limb.”

“I have no doubt you will. Can’t say I’m her biggest fan at the moment. She was aiming to snatch Glimmer’s bow, who knows what kind of devastation she would reign upon us if she succeeded. Good thing one of us managed to wake up.”

“Hm, pretty smug for someone who was cuddled up on me all night like a toasted log.”

A laugh manages to slip through your lips and you’re positive everyone watching back at home is convinced you’ve lost your mind. Seriously, laughing from actual joy during the Hunger Games while stranded in a pack of groomed killers is not the sanest of activities.

Honestly, you would give anything to see how Finnick was coping.

You look back quick enough to catch a pleased look wash over Clove’s features.

Before you could even stop yourself, a river of words flew out of your mouth and you were stuck between not caring and being mortified.

“I meant what I said by the way. You’re really pretty.”

Your remark must have caught her off guard as she suddenly stops midstep, an unnerving silence blanketing around the both of you.

“It’s a shame then, that we met here of all places.” Clove’s words held no bite, though the bitterness in her tone was evident to anyone with a good set of ears.

Taking a hesitant step towards her, you slowly and shakily reach down for her hand. Clove looks down at your fingers, swiftly meeting you in the middle and clasping your fingers together.

“It’s not so bad. After all, we wouldn’t have met if not for the games. I’m glad I get to spend what’s left of my life here with you guys.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

Clove’s sudden fury was not aimed at you, but at something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“You’re right, who could have foreseen me getting along with Cato of all people.”

“No. I mean don’t talk like you’re already dead.”

Clove’s stern words take you by surprise, and a sudden tightness constricts your throat as you swallow down a wave of fondness.

She was looking at you like you could actually win this whole thing. Like it didn’t matter to her if that meant she would have to die.

She steps towards you, a vulnerable glint flecking at the usual indifference of her gaze. Her mind was trained to be a killer, but District 2’s Academy did little to train her heart.

You bring your free hand to cup her cheek, breaking into a watery smile. Leaning over, you press your lips firmly on hers.

Suddenly it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that your moment of vulnerability was being televised to the rest of the nation. It didn’t matter that Finnick was probably dragging his hands down his face in exasperation in the District 4 apartment. It didn’t matter that someone could break through the tree line and jam a knife into your neck.

Clove kissed back with the same amount of fervor, hands slowly rising up to hug your waist.

Fuck. You were ready to throw your life away to make sure she made it out of here. And all it took was her pretty little freckled face and her fiery eyes.

After what seemed to be an eternity, you both pull away for air. You gently brush her cheek with your thumb as she gripped your waist tighter.

“I’m going to make sure you go home, Clove.”

Before she could retort, you both snap out of your little moment as voices approach from behind you.

“Fuck. See, I told you! Wood, my ass! They’re sucking face!”

Marvel’s voice rings through the air and suddenly your three allies are approaching you both, donning similar amused looks.

“I guess this note makes a lot more sense now.”

Cato’s words only serve to confuse you until he holds up a sponsor package along with a note.

‘Tell Y/N that she’s killing me -F’

“He has a flair for dramatics.” Glimmer’s words were just so incredibly ironic that you and the others had to make effort to bury the thought.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

[m0nsterqzzz]

The Real Victory

pairing: Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

summary: when you return from the hunger games as a victor, the only thing you really want is your girlfriend

warnings: slapping (?), mentions of killing (not described, just mentioned), the games?

a/n: can you tag someone who asked anonymously? no idea. if so, somebody teach me. whoever asked for this, it's kinda sucky sorry :/ also, wtf is that title? no idea how to write titles lmao

You didn’t want to leave.

You like your home, you like your family, you like your friends, and most of all, you love your girlfriend.

Growing up, it was trained into your heart, soul, and mind that all you were there for was to volunteer as a tribute for the games. You didn't want to, and as a kid it never made sense why the people surrounding you were so eager to give their lives up just so the capitol could have some special edition entertainment.

“Respect. We want people to respect us.” Your best friend Clove had told you when you were just kids. She had this look in her eyes, one that everyone in district two has as they await the time to get their so-called respect.

Still, it didn't make that much sense to you. The capitol would never respect anyone other than themselves, so why would you even try?

Clove became your girlfriend when you were fourteen- though everyone says they knew you two were in love since you were kids. Not everyone understood why you would fall for her though, her unmatched anger towards anything and everything, her ability to kill anyone who looks at her wrong that comes along with her ruthlessness, and her cold, emotionless personality seemed pretty hard to love.

But that's not how you see it. She has a fiery look in her eyes, but it melts everytime she catches sight of you. She has the ability to ruthlessly kill, but you know she'd give her life to protect you.  She's cold and emotionless, but it just gives you reason to spend more and more time with her and in hopes of learning more about her.

The anger she has towards the world was only once directed towards you. The day you raised your hand and volunteered as a tribute for the games. You'd scored well on your final training test at the academy, as did Clove, so no one really batted an eye when thinking of one of your becoming a tribute. The moment you saw her arm twitch in a way that signaled she was going to give her life, you jumped in.

You’d only seen her once after that, a quick three minute visit in the justice hall where she didn't utter a word to you despite your begging before you were ushered onto the train and sent to the capitol. You wondered if she’d ever speak to you again, or if she really just hated you for taking what could have been her chance to prove herself to the capitol and everyone in your district.

Long story short, it fucking sucked.

You spent most of the games hiding in caves, attacking anyone that game along and by the end of it, you had more than enough blood on your hands for the capitols liking. You were sent home with the promise of a nice house and luxury items, but it wasn't much as in your district it wasn't that hard to get them before.

The train speeds through the forest surrounding district two, and you sit in a seat closest to the exit doors, knee bouncing up and down as the large buildings and factories of your home come into view. Almost everyone is outside the justice hall waiting to greet you, but you only want to see one person.

The transportation slowly comes to a stop, your stomach churning as you hear the cheers from outside the closed doors that only get louder when the doors slide open. Your mentor gets off the train, smiling brightly with pride as if it was here that survived. She rolls her eyes, motioning for you to join her on the platform so the train can leave and you can greet everyone.

Grudgingly, you do. With the knife that’s been strapped to your thigh since the moment you woke up in a hospital in the capitol placed snugly under your dress, you follow after her, the noise only growing louder as they catch sight of you. It’s not surprising for someone in district two to win, but they still think it’s amazing every time it happens.

You recognize some people; some friends from the academy, the nice old man who used to sell you and your girlfriend fruit every weekend, the trainer that graded your final test in school to make you eligible to be a tribute. But your gaze doesn’t linger on them for too long. It falls to the part of the group that's parting for something- or someone.

She’s kinda short, but her height doesn’t matter as she practically steps on anyone that won’t get out of her way as she sprints towards the platform you’re on. Clove.

Much to your mentors dismay, you bunch your dress in your hands to lift it up a little higher than the floor so you don’t trip as you run down the stairs and meet her in the middle. You open your arms for a hug, desperate to feel her comfort right now, but she doesn’t hug you. She lifts her hand, swinging it towards your face. It’s all you see before your cheek begins to sting and your head flies sideways, gasps leaving the people around you.

“Why the fuck would you do that?! You’re so stupid!” Clove yells. You’ve been dreaming of her and her voice for weeks, and that wasn’t exactly the first thing you’d think she’d say if you got to come home.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You mumble, and her eyes soften as she pulls you into a tight hug. Her eyes squeeze shut, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other squeezing the back of your shirt like you’re going to disappear if she lets go. Her knees seem to go slack, so you gently fall with her until you're both on your knees, still hugging like it’s the last time.

The crowd surrounding you guys finally starts to disburse, going back to their activities as you and Clove sit there in silence.

“I had to…I had to watch you get hurt. You got hurt and for the first time ever, I couldn’t save you.” She mumbles into your hair, tears wetting your shirt and you can hear the sadness in her voice. It’s not the first time she’s cried around you, but it is the first time she’s cried with the risk of anyone seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

You nod, no words coming out as you go limp in her arms, finally feeling safe enough in her embrace to just calm down.

She pulls a few inches away, just enough so she can look at your face. Her blue eyes scan your face, as if noting every detail that's changed in the time you’ve been apart. Right on your hairline is a small cut that will scar which capitol didn’t bother hiding as you’d never really notice it unless you looked closely- the way Clove is doing right now.

The dark haired girl leans forward, gently pressing her lips against the cut and letting them linger for a second. Her tears wet your face, but you know she’s never felt happier. She kisses your lips after that with a passion that could bring even the most powerful gods to their knees. You taste the sweet taste of the strawberries she loves eating on her lips for the first time in weeks and you feel like crying even harder.

“I love you. I love you.” She whispers the phrase over and and over again against your lips, not daring to let you go once again as she holds you as close as possible without hurting you.

She’s still pissed, definitely, and you know she’s going to make snide comments about your dumb decision for years to come, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re here, not in the arena. You’re with her, not killing a district six boy. You’re here with her, not reliving your trauma for the first time in days.

She’s here.

[kit-kat-katie]

I Knew You Would

A/N: Here's a small drabble that I finished before my exams, so I'll work on that Finnick fic in my WIP when my exams are in the rear-view window. Hope everyone, students especially, are doing well. ❤️

TW: Small mentions of death, reader is worried about Clove

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x Reader (implied romantic)

Summary: After Clove is announced the victor of the 74th Hunger Games, it feels unreal until the moment she comes home. Well, until she kisses you, of course.

"And the victor of the 74th Hunger Games... Clove Kentwell!" Ceasar announces, and although those in your district cheer loud, your voice rings strong and true above them all.

Ever since you've wished her goodbye, you've been awaiting her arrival back home to you. A kiss goodbye wasn't the best place to end things between the two of you, but she'd come back for you again when she won.

If she won.

Your doubts were strengthened in the weeks between the Reaping and the Hunger Games themselves. The competition seemed tough, and there was good traction behind a few of the tributes in Districts where there wasn't a victor in a while.

But who were you to doubt Clove?

Her arrogance nearly got her killed towards the end, which nearly sent you spiraling, but she was able to recover and kill the boy before killing the girl that was her first target. You loved her pride sometimes, but the mentors that trained you were right - it'd be the death of you if you took it too far in the arena.

After that, Clove and Cato scouted out the last boy before it was announced that only one of them would be going home instead of a pair. Although Cato was stronger, Clove was quicker and skilled with knives, so she stuck one right in his heart before he could do any damage.

Clove showed a winning smile to the camera as her victory was announced, and you couldn't help but cheer.

Your Clove would come back home to you.

~

The train station had all sorts of people crowding around the entrance, waiting to take a gander at the newest Victor. You find yourself among the first as you await for her arrival back home.

When the train comes into view, people cheer and clap as it comes to a screeching halt. Before the train stops, you see Clove looking out one of the windows before she spots you. A wide grin spreads onto her face as you excitedly wave at her.

You were in disbelief that she was the one, out of all of those kids, to come home, but it felt so real now.

Clove Kentwell was the 74th Victor of the Hunger Games.

~

After the buzz and excitement died down, people dispersed from the train station as Clove was escorted to her family. They were happily reunited, with tears and all, and she talks with them for a few moments as you look on proudly.

She then gets a small pat on the back from her father before she comes running to you.

You immediately embrace Clove as she slams into you with all of the force in her body. You both go crashing to the ground, but the mixture of laughter in the air assures everyone that you're both okay.

"You came home." You mutter softly as she cautiously lets go of you.

"Of course I did," She smiles before resting her elbows on the ground next to you, "we had unfinished business, remember?"

Ah, the kiss.

You shyly laugh before biting your lip.

"You wanted another kiss?" You teasingly say before gently placing a strand of Clove's hair behind her ear.

"I wanted a better kiss."

Her smirk tells you all that you need as you place your hand on her face.

She pulls you in for a rough kiss as your eyes widen. You deepen the kiss for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of her lips on yours.

"I missed you." Clove breathily admits as her lips part from yours.

"I missed you more." You mumble before giving her another quick peck. "Let's get you cleaned up before your big interview at home, huh?"

"Sounds like a plan."

A genuine smile lights up her face as she helps you off of the ground. You walk, arm-in-arm, towards her new home as you fill her in on every little thing that she's missed.

[alavestineneas]

Forever

pairing: Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

summary: Maybe Clove wasn’t a terrible person. Maybe she was just seventeen. AU, in which Clove wins the Hunger Games.

warnings: typical hunger games violence

When Clove won, people around her were ecstatic - her parents, her mentors, District two and, of course, the Capitol. Sometimes she wonders if she should be too. As soon as President Snow placed a crown on her head, media all over the Panem wanted to know more, tearing her apart with cheap questions. Clove just wanted to rest - she gave them all that they wanted. What's more to say?

"Clove, what are you planning on doing next?" One of the never-ending reporters asks, and she struggles to answer. There was life outside the Games, Clove just was not sure how to spend it now. For a person who won in the arena, she was surprisingly doubtful.

_

"Are you crazy? Clove, what the fuck!?" The girl in front of her yelled.

Y/N, her main competitor in the Academy since they were ten. She was reaped this year before Clove volunteered and now stood in the room reserved for tributes.

"What, Y/L/N, are you jealous again? Oh, I am so sorry to get victor's crown this year. It seems like you lost to me. Again." Clove spatted. Why was she here? To wish her luck? Ridiculous. They weren't even friends.

"No, Clove, listen. It should have been me going into the arena. This is our last year." the tears stained the girl's face. Why was she crying? Was she that sorry not to get a chance to win?

"And give you all the glory? No, thanks. Now stop crying like a kid. It makes you even more pathetic."

Seeing her cry made Clove feel weird. It was weak, not worthy of a career. Not worthy of Y/N and her stupidly captivating eyes.

"May odds be in your favour, Kentwell. District two will be waiting for you."

Clove rolled her eyes. She did not need pity from anyone, but especially from her. ''They are never in yours, surprisingly.''

_

She sat near the fire in the arena. It was almost the fifth day here. Clove was covered in dirt, blood and sweat from head to toe. She wanted to go home.

Laughter filled the stillness of the night. It was a boy and girl from District one. Clove couldn't help but think how weird and unnatural their voices sounded. How could that be viewed as desirable by the nation? She knew the only person in Panem whose laugh wasn't annoying. Too bad it was never for Clove.

For anyone but her. Y/N was the golden one at the Academy. She was pretty and lively, making it almost impossible for the people around to hate her. Everyone was either her friend or wanted to be one. Clove was the opposite of that - most of the kids were afraid to even talk to her, except for a few.

"I am not afraid of you because I know who you are, Clove. Just a scared girl with a lot of insecurities trying to prove something. You can foul anyone but not me."

Clove hated how Y/N always seemed to be right. She was scared. She already killed five people and lost her partner to some kind of poisonous bird. And it was only the beginning.

Suddenly, she heard a scream. Clove jumped on her feet and grabbed the nearest knife. The time-out was over.

_

Almost half a year since her win. Victor's Village was relatively silent at this time. Mentors were either in Capitol or Academy, leaving Clove to herself. She had a house now - a pretty big one. It was awful to look at - she couldn't believe she thought it was worth it.

Clove still sees their faces in her nightmares - they don't tell you about that in Academy. How hard it is to continue living with blood on your hands, the blood of the children who didn't stand a chance against her knives. Some begged her not to kill them, some tried to fight back. It did not matter in the end. She was here, and they were dead. Haunting her for the rest of her life.

Enobaria said it doesn't get better. Clove believes her - now, her mentor has no reason to lie. She was mad at all of them; at her parents, who pushed their only child to almost certain death for a faint promise of glory; at mentors for inciting her to volunteer; at District two citizens who now saw her killing innocent children as one of the greatest things a person can do; at Capitolees who made her retell each day at the arena for their entertainment.

There was only one person who she couldn't bring herself to hate, although it was the most obvious choice. The one that should've been in the Games instead of her. Y/N. One more tricked child that Academy made her hate. She was the most sincere of them, Clove just realised. She was the only one that cried that day. She was the only one to care. Could she know? Clove wasn't sure.

She stood in front of a big wooden door painted dark blue. The weather was quite nice with the still warm sun hitting the tops of the buildings. Clove knocked twice, not sure if it was loud enough for the owners to hear. It was - the door opened with a slight creak, and a middle-aged woman appeared in the door frame.

''Can I help you?'' the woman asked, looking at her impatiently.

''Um, yes. I was looking for Y/N Y/L/N.'' Only now Clove realised how stupid it was to come here. What if it was not her house? What if she doesn't want to see her? What are they going to talk about? What if she got everything messed up?

The woman turned her head and called over her shoulder - ''Darling, the Kentwell girl is here to see you!'' - and turned to face Clove once more. ''Come in.''

''You know, I am sorry, I shouldn't have come, I will-'' Clove started, but the girl on the staircase already noticed her.

''Clove, what a surprise! Come in! The kettle is about to boil.''

There were no chances of retreating now. She was stuck.

_

Clove looked at the sweets in front of her as Y/N paced around the small kitchen. She hasn't changed a bit - maybe, her hair grew an inch longer. Y/N still looked strong and healthy, something Clove wished she could do. She was sure she looked horrible - Clove broke all mirrors in her own house.

It was then that she noticed a small creature on the windowsill. A pair of golden eyes looked at her almost in curiosity. The cat made its way down and rubbed against Clove's leg. ''You have a cat.'' she stated, stunned.

''Yes. Is it that surprising?" Y/N joked, placing two cups of hot tea on the table. ''You can touch it, you know. He bites, but I guessed you are used to it.''

''I'm good, thank you.'' Clove took shifted a little on the chair. The creature made her uncomfortable. She took a breath in before asking. ''When did you figure it out?'' That the Hunger Games were a dead end, she wanted to say. She couldn't. Not here.

Y/N signed, resting her chin on her hand. ''After Ms. Pitthorn's speech.''

Clove nodded. She remembered the day the mayor's wife made a speech on the Day of Reaping instead of him. Her hands and lower lip trembled like leaves under the Autumn wind when she read. Clove was fifteen, so she did not pay much attention. It turns out Y/N did. ''You were always the smart one.''

Y/N dramatically gasped. ''Is that a compliment I am sensing, Kentwell?''

Clove felt her ears grow red in embarrassment. ''I hate you.''

Silence filled the room. Y/N's smile dropped, and she tried to hide her frown in the cup, sipping now-cold tea. Clove didn't want to hurt her, yet it was all she ever did. It was a price for not allowing herself to believe the truth all those years, and maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't say this now, but she can't live with the aching feeling in her chest. She wants her to know.

''I did not mean it this way. Not now, not all those years. I'' - she takes a deep breath of warm air in, avoiding eyes drawn to her -''I think I have been in love with you since we were ten. It is so selfish and so childish it makes me laugh. At first, I was jealous, so I convinced myself I hated you. But that's the catch - I never really could, you know? To be honest, it was quite the opposite - you were the only thought that kept me going in the arena. I promised myself that if I ever was to make it out alive, I would talk to you. I did not want to die with you thinking someone could mean the words I once said.''

She finally mastered the courage to look at the young girl in front of her. Her unreadable eyes were filled with tears, the same tears Clove saw on the day of her Reaping. She hated to notice that she was the reason both times.

''I didn't know what to call it, the feeling I had for you, not until I saw you at that damn arena. I have loved no one else but you in my life.''

It was enough. Clove kissed her, their lips meeting for the first time, but it felt like they belonged together. Clove couldn't even imagine how many times she wondered what her lips felt like, and now she finally knew. They felt like home.

She pulled away, breathless. Y/N was in her arms with her forehead pressed against Clove's neck, still fresh tears staining checked shirt.

''Don't you dare leave me again.'', Y/N whispers, and Clove swears that she won't. For the first time since her victory, she thinks it was worth it. They deserved their forever.

[heliads]

Hey again! Got another idea 👀👀 But could I request a Clove Kentwell x past victor reader (won very young) who lives in the capitol? Reader is good friends with Enobaria and Brutus and decides to check in with the tributes/mentors of that years game to see what's up and to give some tips and tricks. Immediately she hit's it off with the other careers other then Clove (who likes her but has no idea how to go about it), they accidently meet on the balcony and start to warm up with each other (R gives Clove a token since she didn't get one). Later on R watches the games with the mentors and not so secretly cheers on Clove (defo get's her sponsor packages). Clove wins and they reunite, with clove making the first move after realizing her feelings during the game. Thank you, and I hope this isn't too long!

'lessons worth learning' - clove kentwell

masterlist

The Hunger Games is always your least favorite time to return to the Capitol. As if any of the other opportunities are good, though; you can be trotted around like a prize pony, gawked at as a Mentor, or called up out of the blue to reminisce on the good old days when you won your Games and were lucky enough to have the lovely experience of murdering children who had done no wrong other than the simple misfortune of having their name pulled from a bowl.

The Games are worse, though. You stand on a balcony, knuckles tight like bone around the railing. Below you, two dozen children ripe for the slaughter mill around, testing weapons and receiving instruction from their mentors. You’re here for mentorship duties yourself, having won your Games a couple of years back and thus entitling you to spend the rest of your life watching other tributes attempt to do the same or die trying.

Some would call it a blessing. Sometimes, though, you envy the dead back in your Games. Their lives, although ended early, are theirs, and theirs alone. They won’t have to live forever as a poster child of the Capitol, an example of what District can amount to if they just try. That isn’t to say that you wish you had died in the Games– you are a fighter, always have been, and you’d rather bleed a thousand times than give up– but you do wish that you could have won without having to be a puppet for all the Games afterwards.

All the Victors know the feeling. You ache like a dog on a leash, all of you, having trained all your lives to win the Games if you were Careers or at least dreaded them your entire childhood, but upon doing the one task set before you, every pretense of independence was ripped away. What was once a prize mastiff or foxhound is now a muzzled lapdog, dolled up every season of the Games before being shut up in the Districts once the fun is over.

The first year of your Victorhood, you could hardly handle it. Everything was switched around. The jokes weren’t funny, and what was worth laughing at could cost your head. The food was too much and the clothes were too little. It was like living in a backwards world, one where one false step would bring destruction to you and your family.

Thankfully, you had your other Victors to help you. Enobaria and Brutus, also from your home district of Two, walked you through the gilded trials of a successful Victor, and in turn, you mentor the next sets of tributes to be sent your way. You won your Games young, surprisingly young, so Brutus and Enobaria tend to be the ones selected for primary Mentorship. 

Turns out most tributes prefer to be taught by actual adults, thinking them more experienced and a better shot at their own survival. That’s fine by you, by all accounts; the more time out of the limelight, the better. You’re still required to show up to the Capitol, being the youngest Victor in quite a while means you’ll never fully be released from the Capitol’s fascination, but you can be a quiet darling in the shadows any time you like. If there’s one thing the years have taught you, it’s that it is far, far better to be the dusty doll left behind in the toy chest than the one out on display.

This time around, however, Brutus and Enobaria called you up to give the tributes some advice. District Two hasn’t won a round of the Games since– well, since you, and that was more than a couple of years ago. Since you’re the most recent Two victor, you’ll have valuable insights to provide. Supposedly.

Thus, you find yourself leaning against this balcony, watching the tributes prepare themselves to die. There’s a good amount of competition amongst the Reaped ones this year, it’ll be a tough fight. You don’t envy anyone down there for the task they’ll have to face. Both the tributes from One look formidable, plus a good crop of others from a smattering of districts. Of course, your fellow tributes from Two look strong too, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Then again, the girl from Two this year, a certain Clove Kentwell, does seem to be impressing everyone in her path. She’s about your age, and you probably would have seen her around Two more often were it not for the fact that you’re more fond of suppressing memories in the Victor’s Village than training for the Games you’ll never have to enter again. She seems clever, which is a good thing. Clever girls can get themselves out of deadly loopholes. You can speak to that through past experience.

She’s watching you now, actually. It’s no surprise. Clove has been keeping her eyes on you since the moment she was Reaped. At this point, the quiet weight of her gaze on your shoulders has grown comfortable, more like a woolen cloak than a knife in your back. It’s not a hostile gaze either, this, just painstakingly present. Clove doesn’t mind it if you catch her looking. She’s not the type to glance away first. Good. Anything to keep weakness off her shoulders.

Clove’s fingers tap absentmindedly on her legs, then she seems to make a decision and walks up to talk to you. Your eyes flash to the Peacekeepers stationed at the exits, but they don’t flinch. Still, you have no doubt that they’re watching. It’s fine if the tributes want to talk to the Mentors, but you can’t give them any weapons, nor any advantage at all other than a few good pieces of advice. There’s only so far advice will go anyway, but you might as well offer up what you have. At least then you won’t leave this round of the Games as you do every other:  wondering if what you’d done was enough, and then trying to scrub another set of two young names out of your brain for another year in a row.

Clove reaches the top of the balcony and folds her arms across her chest, eyeing you down like you’re another tribute. It’s a mistake that’s been made before, actually. You’re awfully young for a Mentor, but then again, you were awfully young for a Victor as well.

“So, you’re supposed to be helping me win these things?” She asks daringly.

You nod. “You and your fellow tribute.”

Clove knows this, of course. She’s testing the waters, searching for some kind of reaction. You’re not sure what she wants, but she’ll probably convince herself of it soon enough anyway. Better not to get involved. Better not to get attached. You know how this ends, don’t you? You know better than to enjoy someone’s company if you know they’re going to die.

“You won a few years ago, didn’t you? You were the young one they couldn’t stop talking about?” Clove asks.

You force a smile. It’s as cold and disinterested as you can make it. “That’s me. Although I would have assumed your plan for winning the Games wouldn’t involve rattling off exciting facts about mine.”

“Isn’t it your job to share details about your Games so you can give me a strategy to win mine?” Clove snips at you. She’s fiery. Like you, when you dare to let your spark grow out of the stifling embrace of the Capitol.

“No two Games are the same,” you shoot back. “It’s a better use of your time and mine to consider the current situation instead of mulling over the past. The only things you should think about right now are the present and the immediate future. The next few weeks are your entire life. The past can rot with the rest of the tributes who died because they failed to plan properly.”

Clove whistles. “Charming. Did Brutus and Enobaria bring you here because of your knack for motivational speeches?”

Your grin is bitter. “That, and they knew I wouldn’t coddle you. These are the Hunger Games, Clove. Realism is all you have.”

“Because the Hunger Games are all that will matter in my life?” Clove asks, tone acidic. “Funny, I didn’t think the youngest Victor would have agreed with that.”

“I don’t,” you answer her. “It’s because you’re going to win the Games, and then you’re going to go home, and none of it will have mattered at all.”

Clove pulls a face, disbelieving. “Of course. Winning the Hunger Games won’t mean a single thing in Two. That makes perfect sense.”

“It won’t matter,” you insist, “Sure, it will, for a couple of days. Then you’ll be in Victor’s Village with the rest of District Two’s idols and you’ll blend right in. For months afterwards, you will be flush with victory, knowing you’ve done this spectacular thing, and no one will even care. It’ll be all you can think about, and no one will know. This is the Hunger Games, Clove Kentwell. They matter to you because you’re in them, but once everyone else knows their name won’t be pulled, it’s nothing to them.”

Clove’s eyes have gone quiet. “They’ll have to remember, though. Every year, when they make us do the Victory Tour or go back to the Capitol.”

“Sure, sure,” you say listlessly. “You’ll be one of the Victors. But they’ll forget what year you won, or what you did to deserve it. After a while, they won’t be able to remember if you were the sibling of a Victor, or the lover, or a friend. What do you think happened to me, huh? When you came in here, you didn’t even know my name, and I won just a couple of years ago. Face it, Clove. It all ends after this.”

Clove is silent for a while, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet and wooden. “So how do I fight that? How do I be someone they’ll remember?”

You chuckle bitterly. “You can’t.”

Clove’s face flashes with irritation. “Then why are you here, huh? I thought Mentors were supposed to help us. Is your job just to depress us and then leave? Whose side are you really on?”

She’s started moving towards you with every word, inching forward threateningly. You don’t back down or move a muscle, and when you’re both eye to eye, barely a few inches apart, close enough to see how her chest rises and falls with the brunt of her anger, you bite out at last, “Yours.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clove hisses back.

You smirk. It’s not a nice thing to see. The Capitol has stripped the warmth from your emotions, leaving only blank ghosts of what were once shiny, vivid expressions. “You don’t have to. Look around you. You are in the Capitol. Look at how everyone here looks at you.”

You put your hand on Clove’s cheekbone, forcing her to turn around. You can see it in her expression as she gets what you’re saying, how her eyes harden even more, how she shifts back away from everyone else and towards you again. This, after all, is what it means to be a tribute. The Capitol citizens eye you like a piece of meat, the other competitors stare you down like a hawk who’s caught onto its prey. There are no friendly faces here, just territorial or greedy or both.

“So you’re the better option,” Clove murmurs.

“That’s one way of putting it,” you admit. “I know how it feels to be out there. Alone, despite your Mentors.”

“And you wanted to make sure I felt that, too?” Clove asks, somewhat bemused.

You shake your head. “I wanted you to feel the opposite.”

Clove considers this, then looks back at you again. The hostility is gone from her eyes, replaced with curiosity. “I think I do,” she says.

“Good,” you tell her. “Now we can work together on how to make you win this.”

After that, Clove is focused, her simmering rage honed to a knifepoint’s sharpness. She finds precise techniques to master and practices them over and over again until she’s sure of herself. Those skills that she’s unfamiliar with, she gains a bare capability. She doesn’t need to be good at everything, just not bad at anything. It’s far harder than it sounds, but Clove is all too willing a pupil.

Enobaria finds you later that night. She’s mulling over a drink, and you’re watching the recordings of the tributes’ daily trainings over again so you can spot any weaknesses or potential allies. “The girl seems to be taking to your lessons,” she notes. Her sharpened teeth flash in the low light of the room.

You keep your eyes on the screen ahead of you. “Clove is a proper Career. She makes our district proud. She’s had a lifetime of lessons, and not just mine.”

“Clove?” Enobaria asks, eyebrow arched as she calls out the first name basis. “Getting along quite nicely, aren’t you?”

You elect not to comment, instead focusing on the image of Clove’s form on the recording as she practices with her knives. Enobaria shakes her head, chuckling softly in a manner not too far removed from a jackal when it sights its prey. “I thought you knew better than to get attached to tributes, Y/N. You know Mentors should never fixate on those that will likely end up dead.”

“Of course,” you answer her. “And when you were mentoring me, you never did anything of the sort, right?”

With that comment, you finally look up at her, grinning slightly. Enobaria barks out a laugh, knowing full well that she’d seen you as a sister while you were training. “Get some rest,” she tells you at last. “Your Clove needs you to be functional.”

Your Clove. You can’t deny that you like the ring of it. Enobaria is right to warn you to keep your emotional guard up, though. Soon enough, the week of training is up, and then the tributes are receiving their last words of advice from their Mentors before being sent to the Arena.

You meet with Clove one final time, relating the last bits of information, though the last thing you say to her isn’t practical guidance but a raw, naked hope that she will survive. She promises you she’ll win. You’ve heard many such promises, but for the first time, you believe it.

Then she’s gone, and you are alone with only the other Mentors and Victors to guide you. There’s not a moment to waste, though. Clove has hardly vanished from your sight before you’re racing back up to the viewing stations, where you fling yourself wholeheartedly into the masterful game of winning over sponsors. If Clove has to be out there, fighting for her life, you’ll make sure she’s doing so with the best weapons, medicine, and food that you can bring her.

It’s a terrible thing, sending a friend to die. Worse still when Clove was the first tribute you let through your walls in a very long time. You spent a while winning her over with your experience as a tribute, but Clove won you over too. You watch her as much as you dare, your brave girl, cheering whenever she survives a tricky situation and engulfed in fear whenever she’s in trouble.

At the end of a couple of the longest weeks of your life, though, Clove emerges victorious, the final cannon blast signaling the end of her trials. You swear that you were more stressed during the showdown of the last two tributes than during your own Games, although surely that would be impossible. Clove is brought back from the Arena and immediately checked into the medical wing to handle several injuries from the final fight.

Once visitors are allowed, though, you’re the first one through that door. Clove is in your arms at once. Her eyes are bright upon seeing you, but there’s a shadow that wasn’t there before. She’s a Victor now. It’s not all grand and glorious celebrations. Once the euphoria of still being alive wears off, Clove will have to walk the longer and harder path, the one that doesn’t let you go after a matter of weeks. The memories of this torment will stick with her forever, and the nightmares don’t ease up just because you get older.

Clove will have you, though. Always. You promise her this now, and have just enough time to see the rush of relief in her expression before you’re separated again. Clove will have to be made over by her team so she can be crowned Victor in front of the Capitol. They’ll make her talk about the kills and the narrow escapes, but then she can leave, and so can you.

You watch her from the audience during the interview, then meet her backstage afterwards. She pulls you into a dark corridor behind the grand mess of stylists and Capitol citizens. There are many annexes and mouse holes in the mansions of the Capitol, small places to be alone if you only know where to look.

“You were stunning,” you tell her honestly.

“It’s over now,” she says dazedly. “Isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “You’ll go home. You’ll recover. They’ll drag a few more appearances out of you, but it’s over. You won.”

“I don’t know how to handle this part,” she confesses. “I don’t know how to be a Victor. Will you show me?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “You’ll be perfect at it, just like you were in the Games. You earned that crown, Clove. Be happy. As happy as you can.”

Clove’s eyes shine, rivaling the low glow of the Victor’s crown nestled in her dark curls. Out of some impulse, she reaches up and plucks the gold circlet from her temples before placing it on your head instead. Her hand lingers near your face, dropping slowly from your forehead to your cheek, where her fingers remain, soft against your skin. These are the hands that are responsible for twenty-three dead tributes, and your mouth is the one who taught her how to do it. Still, when it is just the two of you in the quiet dark, you would swear that you and Clove have only ever done good things; pure, too, like falling in love with a girl who grew up loving you, like finding someone to guide through death itself and ensuring that she would walk out the other side.

“I remember that from your Games,” she says dazedly. “You looked good with the crown.”

You laugh quietly. “If that’s all you remembered about my Games, I would be happy.”

Clove’s eyes are dark and large. Falling into them is easy, you don’t think you could escape if you tried. What a sweet way to drown. “If this is all I remember about mine, I would be happy, too.”

You take her hands in the dark. “I’ll help you forget if you help me.”

“Together,” Clove says. “Promise it.”

“Together,” you swear. “Always.” There is no such thing as always, not in the Capitol. Not in this hopeless city, not in this starving country. For a moment, though, for two girls away from the prying eyes of the world, it exists as a bond between the two of them, drawing them inexplicably and permanently together. It’s an oath of blood and gold, a crown that soothes and cuts to the core. Nothing is good here, not in Panem, but you will have Clove, and you will have her always.

requested by @beepboopnel-deactivated20240128, i hope you enjoy!

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[necromelli]

That's amazing! And I absolutely love Clove so win win!! Could you do a blub with Clove x reader using the non verbal prompt #40? It's sender (reader) traces one of receiver’s (Clove) scars / bruises . Thank you so much! And can I be N anon?

this is such a lovely request, n <33

tracing clove's bruises when you're finally reunited after she wins.

tw: implied/mention of thresh strangling clove

clove's arrival home was long waited — you had sat there for what felt like an eternity since the moment she volunteered. you sat and watched every moment of the games, the best your parents let you. but, now she was finally home, back in your arms. safe and sound.

"'m so proud," you murmured into clove's hair, pressing a kiss on top of her head. you could feel the way she melted at the praise, sighing against your shoulder. "you did so well. you were so brave. so strong."

you were just mindlessly caressing her arms, tracing the soft skin. the capitol had already erased the scars, clove's skin back to perfection like she had never been in the games. the only indication she had been was the weight loss, the tiredness, and the bruises that littered her skin. the capitol could get rid of a lot of things, but bruises were the one thing they couldn't.

your fingers trailed down to her neck, tracing the bruises there. big, yellow, ghostly handprints front the district eleven tribute. you frowned, tutted, and planted another kiss in clove's hair.

"careful," clove reminded you softly, and you realized the injury must still be tender. you muttered a small apology, your touch lightening to the point you barely touched her. her arms around your body tightened, pulling you closer. "you don't have to stop. just be careful."

[aza-writes]

Revenge or Revolution

Chapter 1

• District 2 • Six Years Before the Revolution •

My calloused, tough fingers work fast as I braid the feathers around the fishing hook. I tell myself to make the wire tighter in my head before my mom says out loud a minute later.

"Tighter, Ivory! Or, do you not care about winning?" my breath gets caught in my throat. I hate when she uses that tone, it means she's disappointed. I hate disappointing her.

"Yes, mom. I'm sorry." I know better than to reply with anything else. I pull tighter before one wire slips from my finger, unraveling the whole thing.

"It's fine." Her tone shifts as she lets out a sigh. She's still disappointed,  but more subtle in showing it while accepting the fact that I still have areas to improve in. I feel worse now. "Just take a break. Go work on your flashcards."

"Yes, mom." I go into my room away from our "future Victor workstation." My mother came up with the idea when I was very little and I gave it to me as a birthday present for my fifth birthday. That was ten years ago. Ever since I've been training.

My mother has been very controlling with all my training and preparation aspects. She wasn't abusive in any way, she wasn't even mean. I felt love from both my mom and dad. They told me they loved me, but only when it was deserved or earned. It makes sense for love to be conditional, you wouldn't want to love an idiot loser who can't even give you something in return. There are many ways to earn love in my family, but most of them come with being the best at something like getting the best grade in the class or winning one of the many stupid contests they hold at school, and there are a lot. It's one of the many ways competitiveness and drive are instilled in kids in District 2. Not that I mind the competitions, they're mostly fun. They're also a way for me to win another medal or trophy for the case in our dining room. I fill with pride when my mom smiles and announces to our family, basically the whole neighborhood since she insisted the windows had to be open to "let in the fresh air," that she was the mom of a winner. 

And it wasn't that my mom was mad if we didn't win or if we came short in one of the many events or training exercises in a career district, she just added another thing on the list of things my sister, Clove, and I need to improve on. She doesn't do it because of reputation or anything, she was just concerned for my sister's and my future. Mostly mine since I'm older. And her efforts aren't in vain. Even at fifteen, I hold the title for the female with the highest ranking in the district, in all aspects. 

Bow and Arrow: Perfect Spear: Perfect Swords: Perfect Axe: Perfect Knife Handling: Beyond Perfection

Most people specialize in one or two things, but my mom insists I'm a "well-rounded tribute" because you never know what the arena will be like or what weapons will be available. It's also why she has us practice specialties of other districts. Climbing trees like Seven, fishing like Four, simple engineering like Three, and stuff like that. It's what allowed me to beat out all of the older students. If there was one thing they weren't good at, I could capitalize on it. 

It's also why my mom pushed on survival skills just as much as combat. "The poor districts may not be able to fight as well, but they are scrappy as hell. They know how to survive on nothing because they have nothing. So you have to outsmart them." Followed by this speech was an extensive lecture about every victor ever, how they won, and why they won. I've sat through that lecture so many times I'm able to pick up on the patterns of each district. One and Two are similar in how they are the strongest in combat, but Two is better with a variety of weapons instead of just one or two. Three was brains, Four always had something to do with water, and Seven was best with close combat. The rest are a scramble of dumb luck since there weren't many victors from those districts. A lot of them only have one or two victors of each gender that are still alive. 

Even now as I study my flashcards I'm learning about the other districts. My flashcards include plants from every district and every region of Panem where the games could potentially happen. I look at the many plants, roots, and barks and name what it is, their identifying features, and how they can be utilized. Eat, poison, medicine. And if it's poison or medicine I have to then state how it would help or hurt someone. I got these flashcards on my fifth birthday along with the "victor station."

I don't know why my mom makes me go through these flashcards, it's been months since I got one wrong. And I only got it wrong because it was one of the new ones added. 

I toss the deck to the side of the bed as I look at the clock on my desk. 4:45. Clove should be finishing up her training soon. If my training is enough to get me in the games, then Clove won't have to go through all of this. Mom will have her victor, she might let Clove stay good enough to earn respect amongst the District, but not high enough to have her be chosen to volunteer. As much as it is an honor to be chosen to volunteer and win the games, in the end, you're still killing people. 

I go through some of my other decks of flashcards for another fifteen-ish minutes. Identifying soil, matching the bite to the bug then the treatment, and other simple survival trivia that I can't learn firsthand in District Two.

Tap... Tap Tap... Tap Tap Tap... Tap Tap... Tap

Right on time. 

Clove's signature knock echoes from my door, indicating mom gave her approval for her to be done with training for the day. She knocks this way to politely ask if I'm in training or not. Instead of walking into my room and risking interrupting me. I don't know why she started it or even when, but it's been our tradition as long as I can remember. A smile grows on my face, excited I finally get to spend more than a few minutes with her. 

"Come in, Clove." My door opens, Clove peaks in with a small smile on her face. 

"Has Mom dismissed you yet?" Her voice is in almost a whisper, worried she's interrupting me. Even though she did her knock and I gave her verbal confirmation to come in, she still asks. 

I nod my head, even though Mom hasn't come into my room and officially declared it yet, but it's the time she usually would come in. "Yes ma'am, I'm all done." In a millisecond she comes in and hops on my bed next to me. 

Fragments of her uniform are still on, just not as prestige as it was at the beginning of the day. Her shoes, tie, and jacket are off, and her school dress pants have been replaced with softer trousers. The only thing that remains the same from the morning is her hair up and her collared frilly tank top that the younger grades wear, reminding me of her short time between the end of the school day and training. Since I'm older and it's a more formal part of my day, I have designated time to train, but for her, she goes directly from school to a private trainer. Most kids don't start practicing until they turn ten, sometimes they wait until they're twelve. Like me, Clove started her training when she turned five and started weapon and then combat training two years ago when she turned eight. Our training has been almost identical, starting with practice weapons and survival skills starting at five, then combat training beginning when we turned eight. Although we were trained in all weapons, there was an emphasis on knife handling. It was a long and short-distance weapon that provided an extra level of protection. 

Clove sits right next to me on my bed, our shoulders touching. "How was your day?" Her voice is soft. Well, as soft as hers can be. She isn't annoyingly loud, but she isn't weak by any standards. She is confident in herself and her abilities. She's the smallest girl in her grade but she scores higher than them in every aspect. I hope this doesn't mean anything though, that my training is enough for me to gain the win for our family and she can slow down her training. Maybe she can even enjoy her childhood without thinking of how every second she isn't training, she is failing our parents. 

"My day was good. School is school. Training is training." She leans her head on my shoulder and I rest my head on hers. I'm not a fan of any kind of physical touch, but I like Clove's. Her's was comforting. "How was yours?"

Her hands reach for mine. "It was good. I got the highest grade on my history test." 

"Atta girl." 

She smiles softly, relishing in the praise. "Thanks." She sits up and looks at me. I can't make out her expression. It's worrying but also very matter-of-fact. "Mom was mumbling to herself at the victors station. What happened?"

I meet her gaze, a small smirk appears on my face. "I can't make a fishhook." I giggle a bit, trying to make her not nervous. Anytime I'm not doing something perfect, Clove worries. I get it. I have high expectations this year. Not just my family, but the whole district. If I won these games I would get the title of "Youngest Female Victor" ever, giving another "only," "ever," or "first" victor to add to their collection. It's still hard for my district to talk about the 65th Games. Saying it's not fair that the youngest victor is from District 4. They might be able to tolerate District 1, but 4 is unacceptable. Me winning might start a chain reaction of children training at the age of five, producing younger and younger victors. 

Clove's eyes search mine, trying to see if I'm worried or not and if she should be worried too. "But you'll get it, right?" She sounds like mom. So much like mom. 

"I'll get it. Besides, it's not something I 'need' to know."

"Don't say that. You need to know everything so you get in. So you win." Her voice is earnest, stressed. As many people come home to District 2, there are even more that don't.

"Trust me, I'll be okay. And if I need to fish I'll use a spear or something." I snuggle into her, trying to calm her nerves but she is as stiff as a board. Even my reassuring words aren't fixing her anxiety, but I know what will. "Clove?" a mischievous smile grows on my face, " Do you want to grab the nail polish?" 

Her eyes immediately light up and she runs into her room. I hate the feeling of nail polish, but Clove is still at the age where she likes to do girly things. Mom might also like it, an added bit of "flair" for the cameras when I get reaped. Making my stylist appreciate me more thinking "she'll be so easy to work with." 

My life has been planned around these stylist, stylists I don't even know. My mom crafted my appearance around them. She had me grow my hair out so if they want to cut it they can. I keep my skin as clean as possible so it will be easier for them to do makeup. My whole life revolves around the games. 

Clove comes back holding a large, dark red box. "Can I do yours first?" Her smile is wide, we finally have sister time that doesn't revolve around training. Time to relax. 

••••••

Series Masterlist

[sitych]

i have never seen anything for clove on here😭 so could i please request a clove x fem!reader :) #justiceforclove

Oh my god I am so so sorry this took me this long to get to. I was super busy with school and my job. This was a little rushed but here it is!!

Clove kentwell x fem Reader

Warnings: None

————————————————————————

As I watched the sword pierce the training dummy in front of me, I was met with a familiar voice. Well more of a yell.

“SHE TOOK MY KNIFE”

The previous confidence I had soon left and as I watched Clove lash out on some poor younger girl who had apparently taken her knife. For the last two weeks Cloves attitude has been off. She’s been distant and more angry than usual. Like a bomb waiting to explode.

We were a week a way from the hunger games. Knowing she was more than likely to volunteer I couldn’t let her go into the games like this.

“Clove, can you help me get a new dummy from the supplies closet please?” I called over in hopes to get her alone for a bit.

A grunt soon followed as I made my way over to the storage closet. I knew she wouldn’t be happy that I was taking time out of her training, so I decided to speak before she got the chance to yell at me.

“What is wrong with you? Why are you being like this?” I mumbled, in fear of what she would say next

“What’s wrong with me is that your taking time out of my training Y/N. The games are in less than a we-“

I cut her Off before she could even finish. “Is that what it is? The games? Clove you don’t have to volunteer.”

“I do. My parents are making me. I need all the practice I can get if I want to survive.” She grumbled

I could tell the strong facade she was putting up was already failing her. The tears were beginning to well in her eyes and her fists were clenching like she was keeping herself from unraveling.

When I heard her sniffle I hugged her not saying a word.

“You don’t Have to.” I whispered quietly.

“If I don’t I’m going to let them all down. I was raised for this Y/N. This is what I’m supposed to do, but if I die out there and I lose you I’ll never be able to forgive myself.” She began to sob.

The last sentence made my heart jump. Lose me? Why would it matter if she lost me?

“What do you mean ‘lose me’ Clove?” I said pulling back from our embrace and looking her in the eyes

“I cant lose you. You mean too much to me, and I don’t want to die knowing I never got to..” she trailed off breaking eye contact

“Got to wha-“

In the blink of an eye her lips were on mine and her hands were in my hair. While I stood there shocked. Slowly, I began to melt into the kiss. Hands finding their home on her waist, and my lips fitting with hers perfectly.

As much as we both hated it, we had to part for air.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I died not knowing if you loved me too.” She whispered

Clove was never this vulnerable. She’s never been anything more than a hard headed angry girl. I was shocked. I’d never known she liked me. Let alone love me.

“How long?” Was all I could manage to get out

“Since our first year of training.”

I was speechless. My words were failing me completely.

So it happened again, my lips were on hers. But instead of me being the one caught off guard. It was her.

————————————————————————

Im so sorry it was so rushed. I completely forgot I even had tumblr. I’ll be doing my best to get the rest of my requests out.

I Love You all so much, thank you for being patient with me.

[ghostquartz81]

Hello so I’m Ghost and I’m new to posting on tumblr but I’ve read many headcannons and imagines for the hunger games series and thought I could make my own.

I will be doing Lucy Gray Baird, Katniss Everdeen, Clove Kentwell, Lamina and I might add Cashmere and Annie Cresta in the future because I’ve seen clips of their characters but I haven’t seen their whole characters and don’t want to get anything wrong

If I mess up anything with their personalities it’s because I’ve only seen the movies I’m currently in the process of getting the first book.

I’m open to requests but I’m not really comfortable with writing smut

[lythea-creation]

I Will Win For Us - Clove Kentwell x fem reader (Chapter 3)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

warnings: homophobia, violence, angst

word count: 1.451

----------

As soon as Clove had been brought away by the Peacekeepers her parents and I were thrown out of the room.

Her parents immediately pulled me aside.

“What was that supposed to mean? How can you dare to kiss our daughter?”, her dad inquired furiously.

I did not like the way he was grabbing me by my collar, but I did not do anything about it. It would only enrage him further.

“She kissed me because I'm her girlfriend”, I clarified.

My voice was still shaking slightly from the emotional roller-coaster I was experiencing. It was hard to grasp that Clove was actually on her way to the Hunger Games now.

“What do you mean? Our daughter would have never done anything like that. What did you promise her for doing you that favor?”, her mom questioned.

I groaned in frustration. Her parents had always like me until now but of course that had to change now that the truth had been revealed.

“Clove and I love each other. That's all that's behind it. But we didn't tell you because ...”

Her dad interrupted me while tightening his grip: “Because she was ashamed obviously. Our daughter would never do anything like that.”

“Anything like what? Falling in love or falling in love with a girl?”, I challenged him.

Suddenly his fist met my face.

Luckily nobody could see us where we were standing.

He had let go of my collar leading me to stumble a few steps back from his punch.

I could have blocked it, but I wanted them to feel superior for now.

“Our daughter isn't a freak. There has to be a greater reason behind all of this”, Clove's mom claimed.

“What? That she pretended to love me to get to train with me? She could have done that as a friend as well. This is exactly why we decided not to tell you. But it doesn't matter because I will probably never see her again”, I realized, new tears coming to my eyes.

“Keep your shit together! It is our daughter you're talking about. We just found out that you brought shame over her and our family, now that she finally fulfilled her wish to participate in the Hunger Games”, her mom yelled at me.

“What do you think why she even wished to participate? She wants to make you proud and at the same time gain some independence. She wants us to live in Victor's Village together without you being able to do anything against it. And maybe she also hoped that you would accept her if she won. But here you are judging Clove and me for loving each other”, I ranted.

Tears were streaming down my face as everything came crushing down on me. Clove was not here to comfort me.

“We're not judging Clove. We're judging you”, her dad enlightened me. “And honestly I'm feeling stupid for letting her spend time with you in the first place. How could two incredible people like your parents combine to such a disaster?”

“We should go to your parents and continue our conversation with them”, Clove's mom considered. “Come on!”, she demanded.

I felt utterly humiliated. Defying them was not an option I wanted to take. It would burden my family and I could not do that to my younger siblings.

Reluctantly I wiped my tears away and followed Clove's parents.

On the inside I was devastated. The pain of Clove's absence was choking me. This whole incident did not improve the situation at all. I could not even be grateful for the distraction.

The crowd of people had vanished by now, but my family was still waiting for me.

My mom forced a smile onto her face. “Congratulations that your daughter made it”, she exclaimed.

“Thank you”, Clove's mom replied.

“We're proud of her”, her dad added. “But actually there's something we need to talk about.”

I wondered if they were really proud of Clove or if they said it because it was what we were forced to believe. It was hard for me to imagine parents being happy about sending their child to hell with a twenty-three in twenty-four chance of death.

My mom's eyes traveled over to me stopping at my split lip. Worry was evident on her face, but she stayed silent, just as my siblings did.

“Of course. Do you wanna come to our place? So the kids can go to their rooms”, my dad asked them.

“Sure, but I think your kids should stay with us”, Clove's dad suggested.

Great … a scolding in front of my siblings.

But what had I expected? It was not anything unusual that I had to carry the burden of being the role model for them. And if I made a mistake I was the perfect example for them what not to do … which happened quite often considering that I did not agree with many societal rules of our district.

Clove's parents agreed and soon later we were sitting at the kitchen table together.

“So what do you want to talk about?”, my dad wondered.

“I'm gay and Clove is my girlfriend which they don't approve”, I explained the situation.

It had not been smart to speak up in this moment, but whatever was about to happen now I had at least come out myself. The little control that had been in my range ... I had to grasp it.

“Exactly! She's turning our daughter into a freak. I'm sure (f/n) even tried to talk Clove out of participating in the Hunger Games”, her dad accused me.

I simply nodded.

“(f/n) …”, my mom uttered clearly disappointed.

“What was I supposed to do? Silently watch her fight to most likely die? I love her and don't wanna lose her. I don't get how you can see this whole situation differently. Clove has been a part of all our lives since her birth. How could you encourage her to risk her life like that?”, I raged.

“(f/n), settle down”, my dad demanded.

Anger and disbelief seemed to overpower me at his reaction. Yet I bit down on my tongue to keep any remarks from getting out. The situation was bad enough already.

“That's exactly what I'm talking about. (d/n), I really respect you and your family, but you need to discipline your daughter. She's completely out of control”, Clove's dad proclaimed.

My tears threatened to fall again, although this time I was not sure which emotion was connected to them. I only knew that they were too strong to keep them in.

“She's weak and crying around. And clearly she's been manipulating Clove”, her mom added.

“(f/n)'s just passionate about everything that's important to her. I honestly don't see what's wrong with that”, my mom pointed out.

The joy and relief I felt only lasted for a few seconds.

“You didn't see the way she pushed her tongue down Clove's throat. What are you planning to do then? Announce that your daughter is a dyke? Are you seriously fine with that?”, Clove's dad questioned.

Silence erupted in the room.

My hopeful eyes met my mom's torn ones.

It counted as a sin to be anything but heterosexual here. My love brought shame over our family. How could anything that did not bring any disadvantages for them even be shameful?

“You're right. We can't just accept it. We will take care of it”, my dad ensured Clove's parents.

“Don't you wanna do it now? I think your other kids should see it to know who has the say in this house. And I can help you if you want”, Clove's dad considered.

A pit formed in my stomach. They could not be serious.

But I knew the relationship between my and Clove's parents. Clove's parents had a lot of influence which would only increase now with Clove as a tribute. My parents would not turn down any of their wishes.

My younger sister and brother looked at me with scared eyes. They were twelve and ten.

I did not want them to learn that loving someone led to punishment.

I gulped down my pride and a huge part of my self-worth and identity. “I get that I screwed up. I'm sorry. I never meant to disrespect anyone or bring shame upon us. Please, don't make (brother) and (sister) watch”, I pleaded.

My dad looked at Clove's who shook his head.

“You should have thought about the consequences beforehand”, dad brushed my pleas off. “Come on! Stand up!”

[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.

[cloveswifey]

Mentor

Pairings: Cato Hadley x Fem!Reader

A/n: not exactly sure if this was what you wanted when you requested; hopefully this is good enough. Part 2 will be on its way maybe?

Type: Angst + Fluff

Warnings: blood, swearing, the hunger games, insults, arguing, fighting, medicine.

Words: 1.9k

Request: Cato × reader when he won the 74 and she won the 72 and she's younger than him and they fall in love and ppl are surprised he's soft for her

Y/n had always known that she was destined for greatness. Growing up in District 2, she had been trained from a young age to become a tribute in the Hunger Games. She had learned how to use a bow and arrow with deadly accuracy, and she was smart enough to outwit any opponent who dared to cross her.

As the day of the 72nd Hunger Games approached, Y/n felt a mixture of fear and excitement. She knew that the Games were a brutal and unforgiving competition, but she was determined to emerge victorious.

When the Games began, Y/n immediately put her skills to the test. She used her bow and arrow to take down several of her opponents, and she quickly established herself as a force to be reckoned with. She was smart enough to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible, instead using her wits and her knowledge of the arena to stay one step ahead of the other tributes.

As the days passed, Y/n continued to impress the audience with her skill and her cunning. She was one of the youngest tributes in the Games, but she was also one of the most deadly. She had a natural talent for survival, and she was able to adapt quickly to the ever-changing conditions of the arena.

Despite her success, Y/n never lost sight of her ultimate goal: to emerge victorious from the Hunger Games. She knew that there were still several formidable opponents left in the competition, and she was determined to outlast them all.

As the final showdown approached, Y/n prepared herself for the ultimate battle. She knew that she would need to be at her very best if she was going to emerge victorious, and she focused all of her energy on the task at hand.

When the final battle began, Y/n was ready. She used all of her skills and knowledge to outwit her opponents, and she fought with a fierce determination that left her adversaries reeling. In the end, it was Y/n who emerged victorious, having proven herself to be the most skilled and resourceful tribute in the entire competition.

As she stood before the cheering crowds, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. She had survived the Hunger Games and emerged as the ultimate victor, a testament to her strength and her courage. From that day forward, Y/n would be remembered as one of the greatest tributes in the history of the Hunger Games, a true champion who had overcome incredible odds to achieve her ultimate goal.

As Y/n emerged from the arena, she was greeted by a sea of flashing cameras and cheering fans. She had just become the youngest winner in the history of the Hunger Games, and her achievement had not gone unnoticed.

Alongside her stood Finnick Odair, the dashing and charismatic tribute from District 4. Finnick had won the 65th Hunger Games at the age of 14, and he had gone on to become one of the most beloved victors of all time. Now, he stood beside Y/n, the newest member of the exclusive club of Hunger Games champions.

As Y/n made her way through the crowds, she was praised for her incredible skill and bravery. She had faced off against some of the toughest opponents in the Games, and she had emerged victorious against all odds. Her youth had been seen as a disadvantage by many, but she had used it to her advantage, relying on her quick reflexes and her natural agility to outmaneuver her opponents.

Finnick, too, was quick to praise Y/n for her incredible achievement. He had been in her shoes once, and he knew just how difficult it was to win the Hunger Games at such a young age. He saw in Y/n a kindred spirit, a tribute who had overcome incredible odds to become a true champion.

Together, Y/n and Finnick became the talk of the Capitol. They were hailed as the brightest stars of the Hunger Games, two young tributes who had proven themselves to be the very best of the best. They were invited to all of the most exclusive parties and events, and they were showered with gifts and accolades from their adoring fans.

For Y/n, the experience was both exhilarating and overwhelming. She had never imagined that she would become a Hunger Games champion, let alone one who was celebrated alongside the legendary Finnick Odair. But as she basked in the glow of her newfound fame, she knew that she had truly achieved something remarkable. She had proven that age was just a number, and that anyone, no matter how young or inexperienced, could become a true champion if they had the courage and the determination to succeed.

2 years later

Years had passed since Y/n had won the Hunger Games, but her name was still remembered by many. She had become a living legend, a symbol of hope and resilience in a world that was often dark and cruel. So it was no surprise when she received a summons to President Snow's office, inviting her to mentor the tributes of the 74th Hunger Games.

At first, Y/n was hesitant. She had left the world of the Hunger Games behind, and she had no desire to return to it. But something in Snow's voice had piqued her curiosity, and she found herself accepting the invitation despite her misgivings.

Y/n pov

I soon returned to my home district, after being at the Capitol to fulfil President snows wishes.

As I arrived, Brutus was preparing to announce this year's tributes. She watched from the sidelines as Brutus approached the bowl of names.

But just as he was about to draw a slip of paper, a voice rang out from the crowd. "I volunteer as tribute!" My eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a small, tough-looking girl.

She had dark brown hair and freckles scattered across her face. With a proud smirk, she strode up to the stage.

"What's your name?" Brutus asked into the microphone.

"Clove Kentwell," she replied with a smirk.

"Congratulations, Clove!" Brutus exclaimed, applauding. "Now, Y/n, would you do the honors and select our male tribute?"

I nodded and walked up to the bowl, but before I could pick a paper, another voice cried out, "I volunteer for the Games!"

A muscular blonde man stepped out of his aged-group line and began walking towards the stage.

"What's your name?" I asked into the microphone.

"Cato. Cato Hadley," he replied with a smirk, looking out at his district. He then turned to me and winked before taking his place beside Clove.

As they rode the train to the Capitol, Cato began making fun of Y/n for being younger than him. "How is a younger person gonna teach me anything?" he taunted.

"Age doesn't matter, Hadley," Y/n scoffed.

"Why's that?" Clove sarcastically laughed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey, now. Let's not be rude," Brutus said, trying to diffuse the situation.

But Cato wasn't having it. "You're just a kid. What could you possibly teach us?" she sneered.

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I may be young, but I have experience," she said firmly.

"Experience in what? Tying knots?" Clove scoffed.

"Shut it, Freckles. I could easily put one of my arrows into your thick skull and send you flying across this room," Y/n spat at the small girl.

Clove rolled her eyes, but Y/n could see a glimmer of respect in her gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to prove herself to these tributes.

Y/n, Brutus, Clove, and Cato arrived in the Capitol, ready for the 74th Hunger Games.

As they waited for the parade to begin, Y/n noticed that Cato looked nervous. She walked over to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

Cato nodded, but Y/n could see the fear in his eyes. "I'm just nervous," he admitted.

‘Nervous? I don’t do nervous’ Thought Cato.

Y/n smiled. "I know, but you're going to do great. Just remember to stay focused and don't let your emotions get the best of you."

Cato nodded again, and Y/n could see that her words had helped calm him down. As the parade began, Cato and Clove climbed onto their chariot and rode through the streets of the Capitol.

The crowd roared as they passed by, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. They were representing their district, and she was determined to make them proud.

As they made their way back to the training center, Y/n pulled Cato aside. "Listen, I know you're a great fighter, but you need to be careful. Don't let your anger get the best of you. Stay focused, and don't make any unnecessary moves."

Cato nodded, and Y/n could see the determination in his eyes. She knew he was going to be a tough competitor, but she also knew that he had what it took to win.

As the days passed, Y/n continued to give Cato and Clove advice and support. She knew that they were all in this together, and that they needed to work as a team if they wanted to survive.

Cato was confident as he entered the arena for the 74th Hunger Games. He knew that he was a strong fighter, but he also knew that he had a lot to prove. Luckily, he had Y/n as his mentor, and she had been a great help to him throughout his training.

As the games began, Cato fought hard, taking down his opponents one by one. But when he came up against Thresh, things took a turn for the worse. Thresh was a tough opponent, and he managed to injure Cato's leg.

Cato was in pain, but he knew he couldn't give up. He thought of Y/n, who had sent him medicine to help with the pain. He knew he had to keep fighting, for her.

As the days passed, Cato continued to fight, but he found himself thinking more and more about Y/n. She had been there for him from the beginning, and he had come to rely on her for support.

As he made it to the final battle, Cato knew that he had to win. He thought of Y/n, and all of the help she had given him. He knew that he couldn't let her down.

In the end, Cato emerged victorious. As he stood on the podium, he looked out into the crowd, searching for Y/n. When he found her, he mumbled the words "I love you Y/n" under his breath.

Y/n heard him, and she smiled. She had grown to care for Cato as well, and she was proud of him for winning the games. She knew that they had a long road ahead of them, but she was ready to face it with him by her side.

[kit-kat-katie]

Come Back Home

A/N: As an unapologetic Clove stan, I'm happy to write something for her. I'm thinking about writing for Glimmer too, but idk, we'll see ;)

TW: Fluff if you disregard what happens in the first book :), weapons, fighting

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x Reader (implied romantic)

Summary: As the 74th Hunger Games approaches, you train with Clove to prepare her for what's to come. When The Reaping occurs, Clove makes a promise that you can only hope that she's able to keep.

It wasn't fair.

She was better with close-range combat and could put you on the ground in under a minute.

You were better with long-ranged combat - spears, bows, and anything that could deal damage from a range was your bread and butter.

Still, you try to look as menacing as possible as you stand toe-to-toe with Clove Kentwell. You know you'll get your ass kicked, but you might as well put on a good show, right?

A whistle blows, and she's the first to charge at you. You quickly step aside as you find yourself playing defense - your first mistake.

You nearly step off of the mat as you dodge another swing from her. A vicious smile sits on her face as you realize that you've somehow managed to get yourself into a corner - your second mistake.

Your third and final mistake was trying to do something instead of bracing for impact. You attempted to tackle her, but she quickly moved aside as you came crashing to the ground.

You roll over before Clove climbs on top of you. You feel the heat rise to your cheek as she pulls a fake knife from her training uniform.

You pretend to be in pain as she stabs your upper torso, and you stick your tongue out and play dead as she gets off of you.

You hear her laugh as you tilt your head to her.

"You're an idiot, you know." She says before offering you a hand up.

You nod before taking her hand.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

~

Hand-in-hand, you and Clove make your way to the Reaping - the place where Clove will have the honor of being District 2's female tribute in the 74th Hunger Games. There was no guarantee that she'd be reaped, but she was given the right to volunteer by fighting her way up the ranks.

"You good?" You softly ask before squeezing her hand.

"I'm okay. I'll just miss home, that's all."

"Not me?" You take offense at her statement as she scoffs.

"You're a part of my home, so I'll miss you most of all."

You bite your lip as you approach the Peacekeepers, and you let go of her hand.

"I'll be watching you." You warmly smile at her before giving her a quick hug.

A cocky smile rests on her face.

"I know. All of Panem will be there too."

You don't think the escort can fully read the name out of the ladies' bowl before Clove volunteers. Full of energy and life, she bounces up to the stage and takes Cato's hand. The crowd goes wild, with you included, and the 74th Hunger Games are going to commence with Cato and Clove in them.

~

You're silent as the Peacekeepers escort you inside of a small room. You see Clove say goodbye to her family before turning to you.

"I'm so proud of you." You softly mumble before giving her a tighter hug. "I'll miss you while you're gone."

"I'll be back, I promise." Clove lets go before taking your hands in hers.

"Come back home safe, alright?" You blink away the tears in your eyes as she silently nods.

"I will."

You embrace her again before letting go for good.

"Oh, and one last thing-"

You give her a quick peck on the cheek, which causes a small blush to appear on her face.

"-a good luck charm for my favorite tribute."

[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

[heliads]

Hey! I gotta request something for our girl Clove. So could you do a Clove Kentwell x district 2 reader where they have been close friends since they were young and shared feelings for eachother but were scared to mess it but one day for some reason (ex: family invites them back or smth) has to move back to the capitol. The 2 lose contact and years later meet again in the lobby of the tribute building at night finally catching up on what has happened in their life. Perhaps also finally confessing to each other! I hope I've sent this in in time! Take your time!

'it's been a while ' - clove kentwell

masterlist

After years of living there, the Capitol is just as gaudy and useless as ever. The sheer quantity of ostentatiousness increases exponentially with the annual arrival of the Hunter Games, to the point where it’s damn near unlivable. Then again, when has it ever been somewhere you’d want to stay?

If you had it your way, you would have stayed in District Two forever. If you had it your way, you never would have come to the Capitol at all, not even as a tribute to become its latest Victor. District Two takes great pride in training its children to become winners in the Hunger Games, but you never fell for the whole spectacle. The only thing you had ever wanted was simply to be home, and then that was taken from you.

All your life, you were District. Your parents had ties to the Capitol, you knew that, but they had direct orders from President Snow that they were to maintain the strength of the district government by remaining there. You had assumed that you would go your whole life without ever leaving Two, and then their orders changed all of a sudden and you were gone. Back to the Capitol, although you had never been there as long as you were alive. Away from home.

That was a couple of years ago. It is expected that one would still nurse faint pangs for home, but over the months, everyone seems to assume that your passions would transfer over to such a remarkable place to spend your days. The Capitol is rich in many things, to be sure. The food is sublime, the houses are magnificent, the dresses sparkle.

Still, what it gains in material wealth, it lacks in substance and in soul. What you see as you look around you every day is a garish facade. Everyone here is dripping with wealth, but the only thing they cannot buy is true spirit. If anyone had a heart in the Capitol, they’ve long since sold it off to buy more gems and shoes. Nothing here is worth living for.

And, with the Hunger Games drawing ever near again, you’re painfully reminded of the emptiness of your current life once again. It is pure privilege that you could live here, secure in the knowledge that you’ll have enough food and clothes and shelter to keep you more than comfortable, yet you’d throw it all away if you could just be back in the one place where you actually felt alive.

You walk listlessly in the back corners of someone else’s mansion. Your family has been invited to an opening gala celebrating the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games. You’re decked out in the latest fashions, although your clothes are noticeably subdued compared to everyone else. Although it might bother your parents to no end, you can’t convince yourself to adopt the endless frivolity of the other Capitol residents. Not when you would be sickened whenever you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Apparently all sorts of important people to the Hunger Games are here tonight, Gamemakers and past Victors alike. It seems as if half the Capitol has been brought to this particular event, whether by their choice or otherwise. The main parties are happening a few floors up, with plenty of screens displaying the opening interviews of the latest round of tributes, but you just can’t force yourself to watch. Why get wrapped up in the stories of twenty-four new children when all but one are about to die?

Instead, you slink around below, where the lights are dim and you don’t have to worry about being seen. Your parents will be busy upstairs, where they’ll be too lost in the bubbling crowds to find you. Tomorrow, if they question you about where you were, you can lie and say you were up there with the rest. With these crushing throngs of partygoers, they would have absolutely no idea if you were telling the truth or not.

You’re not the only one down here, either. Although the significant majority of the Capitol is very interested in the results of the Games, there are a couple of people here and there who cannot stand the idea. Haymitch Abernathy, the District Twelve mentor, will spend most of his time upstairs wining and dining potential sponsors, but on occasion he cannot stomach the eager discussion of his own district’s children as lambs to a slaughter and he hides down here to catch his breath and sneak a sharp mouthful or five from a flask at his hip. 

Other Victors occasionally dip down the stairs when they’re sure they will not be found. They all have the same look in their eyes, and respond with the same flinching terror when they hear a loud bang like the cannons that announce dead tributes in the Games. This whole thing is a horrific show, and you can’t bear it any more than the others. Although you may be a Capitol citizen now, in your heart you will always be District. Your oldest friends were the ones sent in to die.

In fact, last year someone closer than a friend entered into the Games. Sometimes, as a child, you’re fortunate enough to have a best friend, someone who means the world to you because you mean the world to them. You’re past friendship bracelets and always remembering each other’s birthdays. This person is everything to you. The idea of forgetting them is impossible. Whoever you are, there will always be some part of you made up of them, all the insignificant habits and odd pronunciations you picked up from them.

This person is your world, and then you leave them for the Capitol. The day you had to tell Clove Kentwell that you were leaving District Two might have been the worst of your life, except for the day you left the district behind entirely. Although you had limited notice of when you were leaving, you still dreaded the hour in which you would have to inform your best friend that the most inseparable pair in all of Panem was about to be split up for good.

It is hard telling your best friend that you’re never going to see her again. It is harder still when she’s stopped being just a friend in your mind. Your feelings for Clove have changed over time, shifting from emotion to emotion without your approval, but in the end, you know for certain that you love her. You’re also fairly certain that Clove loves you back, but neither of you ever said a word about it to each other.

After all, how could you? The chances that either of you would be reaped for the Hunger Games were quite high, as was the expectation that you would volunteer. And even if you weren’t sent into the Games, the risk of confessing when the other didn’t feel the same way was catastrophic. You could destroy the friendship forever, and worse, still have to live so close together. The remnants of the glorious thing you once had would hang about you forever, choking you out whenever you dared to think about it. All of your days would be spent grieving Clove even while she still walked your streets and passed by your house, and then you would grow up and apart and the whole thing would be lost forever.

It was too terrible a fate to bear for both of you, and so you never said a word about it. You regret that sometimes, especially after you moved, but there’s nothing more to be done about it now. You are here, Clove is there, and never shall the two paths cross again.

That’s what you had thought, at least, and then last year you had been at a party celebrating the beginning of the seventy-third annual Hunger Games, and Caesar Flickerman had announced the two tributes from District Two, and one of them was Clove. You remember that night perfectly, how you spent the entirety of that evening frozen in place, unable to move a muscle while the rest of the party around you danced and cheered and placed bets. Your best friend was going into the Arena, and there was nothing you could do to save her.

You never saw Clove while she was in the Games, for better or for worse. Random strangers weren’t allowed to see the tributes, and since you live in the Capitol and Clove is from Two, that’s what you would always be:  strangers. Even though you knew everything about her, from the way she laughed to the exact balance of the syllables of your name in her mouth. Strangers, that’s what you were. Forever separate, never to meet again.

The course of the Hunger Games was immensely difficult. Each day you spent obsessing over the footage, trying to make out if she was injured or hungry or dead. Each night, you had to be all but dragged away from the monitors, so addicted were you to watching your girl. Even after they took you away, you could hardly sleep a wink. In the mornings, you rose early and ran to the live recordings of the Games, torn to pieces by the thought that she might have died while you were away.

In the end, though, Clove was victorious, and you watched from afar as she was paraded around and all but worshiped by the adoring Capitol and District Two. No amount of words can adequately describe the relief you felt when you knew that Clove would survive, although it was shadowed by the knowledge that even as Victor– especially as Victor– Clove would never be able to escape the hold of the Capitol.

You’ve seen many Victors come and go. They’re paraded to and from the Capitol whenever the Hunger Games are so much as mentioned, brought up every time so they can give their takes on the latest round of tributes or the design of the Arena or merely an update on what they’ve been doing since their latest publicized appearance. Once the Capitol tires of them, they’ll be allowed to return to their Districts for a couple of months before the TV cameras are sent out again to catch a glimpse of a Victor in its natural habitat.

She’s here now, probably, with some of the other Mentors or forced to mingle at any of the dozens of events happening across the Capitol. The thought turns your stomach. The on camera bits had been Clove’s least favorite part of being a Career, you’ve known that since you were a child. Clove dreamed of volunteering for the Hunger Games just like any other good District Two girl, but she’d told you fervently that she despised the interviews and all the acting fluff.

You’d been able to see that for yourself, too, while Clove was involved in the seventy-third Games. Although it may not have been apparent to any other onlooker, the advantage of the years you’ve spent by her side is that you know exactly when Clove is uncomfortable or unhappy, and she was just that while being grilled by Caesar Flickerman. Her mentor had trained her properly, and her impeccable demeanor never shifted, but you could see the tightness in her hands, the strain in her eyes. Clove didn’t want to be there any more than you wanted to be watching her.

A champagne bottle pops somewhere upstairs, causing the ceiling to rattle with a chorus of shouts. You’ll probably have to go up there sooner rather than later, or you really will be in trouble for skipping. To clear your head, you push open the doors to the house, letting the cool air wash over you. Just one lap around the mansion, then you’ll entertain the rest. You just need this one last moment of peace if you have any hope of survival.

You’re not expecting to see anyone else out here, but halfway through your circuit, a shadow crosses your path. You move out of the way automatically, not wanting to bother or be noticed by anyone from the Capitol, but you’ve hardly started moving again when a soft, careful voice says,

“Y/N?”

Instantly, you freeze in place. It’s been a long time since you last saw Clove Kentwell in person, but you’d know her voice anywhere, that precise cadence of syllables, each and every inflection like a feather-light touch upon her words.

You turn around slowly, and there she is, taller than you remember but no less stunning. Her eyes are more guarded than they used to be, but maybe that’s what you deserve for going away for so long and leaving her with a gaping hole in her armor.

“Clove?” You ask in return.

Hesitantly, you drift closer. You’re waiting for her to step back or leave, maybe, anything befitting someone you no longer quite now, but she doesn’t go. She doesn’t get closer, either, no delighted embraces for a long-absent best friend, but Clove’s never quite been that type anyway.

“It’s been a long time,” you say, when it becomes apparent that she’s waiting for you to do something.

Her brow twists. “Hasn’t it?”

The question is daring. After all, it is your fault that so much time has passed since the two of you crossed paths. You were the one who left, she was the one who stayed. It is perfectly reasonable for Clove to have nursed a grudge all this time.

“I didn’t want to go,” you remind her. “Trust me. I begged my family to let me stay, but they wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

“I do trust you,” Clove says softly. “I always have.”

The words twist in your heart like a knife. You’re not sure what to say to that, not sure even that you can say anything to it, not without losing yourself, so you briskly change the subject. “I saw you in the Games. You did well.”

Clove scoffs. “There were a couple of sloppy kills. I could have done better.”

This makes you laugh. It’s just like Clove to have won the Hunger Games and still have pointers for herself on what she could have done better. “You had an excellent showing, Clove, and you know that.”

Clove arches a brow. “You saw my Games?”

“Every minute,” you admit. “I couldn’t look away. I was scared that if I did, you’d die. I’ve lost a lot of you, Clove Kentwell. I didn’t want to lose your last moments, too.”

She’s quiet for a while, and it occurs to you that you might have overstepped. Ducking your head, you mumble something about heading back inside, and move to brush past her. Clove catches at your arm before you can go. Her grip is as steady as always, radiating quiet strength without having to hurt you. She’s never hurt you. Not in all those years of training and playing around has she harmed so much as a hair on your head.

“Wait,” she says suddenly. “Don’t go yet. You– you haven’t told me what happened to you yet.”

You frown. “What?”

Clove shakes her head slightly, her dark curls catching in the moonlight. “You saw how I’ve been in the Games last year, but I don’t know what you’ve been doing. It’s been years. Don’t you know how many times I’ve thought about you? Wondered what you were doing? If you were making friends you liked more than me?”

“Never,” you pledge immediately. “I’ve talked to people here, but none of them could come close to you. They don’t get me, not like you do. Everyone here is cold and insincere. Sure, they’ll pretend to tolerate me so they can get to my family’s money, but they don’t actually like me. Not like you did.”

Clove’s voice comes quietly in the dark. “No one could like you like I did.”

Your eyes dart up to her. “Clove–”

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ve done enough running. I wanted to tell you when I knew you were moving, but you were gone too fast. I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance so I have to take this one while I have it. I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for years.”

A firework goes off overhead, the remnants of someone else’s late night party. It feels as if the red matter between your ribs has been tossed up there in the sky, made glittery and meteoric so everyone can see and delight in the cascade of bright emotions rippling through your heart. It is one thing to imagine that Clove might have feelings for you, to assume that you enough of her mind to decide what she thought of you, but it is an entirely different matter to hear her confirm it after all this time.

“I love you too,” you say in a sudden rush.

The corner of Clove’s mouth pulls up into a victorious smirk, so familiar an expression that you can remember a hundred other times you’ve seen this exact impression, heard her voice tinged by triumph in this same way. “I knew that, obviously. I just wanted to make sure you know I loved you first, that’s all.”

You laugh. It’s a giddy sound. You don’t think you’ve laughed for real since you arrived at the Capitol, and your voice is a little hoarse from disuse, but it gets easier in moments. Everything is easier around Clove, it always has been. “You loved me first? I didn’t realize it was a contest.”

She snorts. “Everything is a contest, Y/N. We’re Careers.”

Your delighted mood slips away from you once you remember where you are, what you’ve become since you saw her last. “Am I? I’m not in Two anymore.”

Clove’s dark brows narrow. “Of course you are. You grew up with me, you think I don’t know who you are? You’re one of us, Y/N. You’re part of me, and you always will be.”

A soft, tentative smile starts to slip back onto your face. “Always, huh?”

It’s dark, hard to see Clove’s expression, but you swear you can still sense the heated flush as it creeps onto her cheeks. “Always.”

The voices from inside the house are starting to grow more insistent. “We should probably go back inside,” you say reluctantly. 

In a perfect world, you would stay outside forever, talking happily with Clove while the fireworks flared overhead. Then again, in a perfect world, you never would have left District Two at all. However, when Clove takes your hand, and you walk side by side back into the house, you start to think that maybe you’ll have some semblance of your perfect world after all, one in which even the distance can’t stop you and Clove from being together. Victors are always in the Capitol, after all. Your paths will cross again, and this time, you will have nothing to fear. Not even separation.

hunger games tag list: @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife