#cato fanfiction

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

anti-hero - c

maroon | snow on the beach | masterlist

Warning: blood, character death

Summary: the one where he realises too late the real price of the games, your life.

Worcount: 2.1k

You couldn’t help the laugh that broke out between your teeth as you sat there, “You’re an idiot, I’m surprised you made it this far,” you patched up the small wound on his side, his t-shirt lifted up as you tended to the wound, dabbing it with water and some of the medicine that had been sent.

He shrugged away at your teasing, trying to hide the smile that was growing on his face, “Shut up,” he would never admit that he was the problem but everyone else would agree in the Captiol; he didnt care, he was still tipped to be the winner.

He watched as you tipped your head back and laughed. There was a smile on your face that he hadn't seen since training. He was sure that he would never get to see you in your happiness and there was an ache in his chest at the thought.

You looked back at him to see him gazing at you, “What’s that look for?” You teased.

The two of you had been working together since the career pack had fallen apart and he had been watching you since he saw you in the Capitol. There was something there that he had never felt before.

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, “What look?” He replied and you could feel the tension brewing between the two of you.

He leant in slightly and that’s when he really took in your face, the small freckles littering your skin, the exact colour of your eyes, the curves of your cheek. He wondered if in another life, he would be able to stare at you forever.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, voice quiet this time as you watched his eyes flick between your eyes and your lips.

Nobody had ever looked at you like this, like they could stare at you for years and years and never get bored.

This was not where you were expecting to be when you had been reaped. Your heart racing in the woods as a boy your age looked at you like that. You had joined the career pack for necessity, not because you wanted to be with them. Now here you were, your own group.

You had joined the anti-hero of the year. He wasn’t someone anyone wanted to work with but everyone at the Capitol believed he would win. One day you would have to watch as he left.

A part of you knew that this would have to end soon.

You didn't care as he leant in and you could feel his breath on your face, “Cato,” you muttered.

He hummed in response, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek, “Yes,” he replied, voice soft and quiet like he wanted this moment to be just between the two of you.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled, eyes flicking back down to your lips, “I was gonna kiss you,” his voice sounded deeper than it had been moments ago.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you thought about it, “Okay,”

You closed your eyes as he pressed his lips against yours, soft and delicate like he was worried he would break you if he pressed against you too hard.

The hands cupping your face had killed several people, blood staining both of your skin and yet here you were, letting him kiss you gently in the middle of the woods.

You both knew the game. One of you would have to die to win. Yet, you didn't care as he pressed his lips harder against yours like it was the only time he would ever get to. He could kill you right now. He could snap your neck like you had see him do but you just let him hold you tighter, your hand going to his hair to pull him closer to you.

You laughed as you pulled away, eyes still baring into his.

He laughed like a kid, giddy and excited. You looked at him and wondered why that was so hard to believe - maybe because he managed to cover up the fact that he was still just a child so often that you almost believed he was an adult.

It felt like a dream that you were going to wake up from soon, screaming for it all to be real.

You pressed another kiss to his lips before standing up. He reached a hand out to stop you, “I have to collect berries,”

”We could head to the lake, try and catch fish,” he suggested. He didn't want you to go off alone.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I will be fine. And its too exposed by the lake,” you walked off and he watched, leaning against the rock.

A few minutes passed and he stood up, a nervous feeling in his chest like it was constricting in on itself as he thought about where you had gone. You shouldn’t have been gone for so long.

He picked up his knife as he walked through the woods, calling your name out like you would reply. You didn't.

He turned the corner when he heard a noise and that’s when he saw the scene in front of him, his stomach sinking.

Clove had you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other holding a knife against your neck. She had ambushed you as you gathered the berries and had knocked you over the head - that’s where the blood on the side of your head was coming from.

“Don’t move, lover boy,” Clove spat the words out. She knew what that comment would mean, how it would get under his skin.

“Cato,” you somehow managed to squeeze the words out and Clove just tightened her grip around your neck.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, pleading for help. A part of you wondered if he was just going to let you go. One of you was going to have to die at the end anyway so why wouldn't he cut his losses now.

His jaw clenched at the sight in front of him. This was not how it was supposed to do.

He took a tentative step towards Clove and she tutted, holding the knife closer to your jugular, “I’d hate to cut her pretty skin,” she pressed the knife slightly into your flesh and you hissed out in pain as she broke through, “Oops,”

“Let her go, she has nothing to do with this,” he watched as the blood bubbled up to the surface, spilling down your collarbone.

Clove chuckled, an evil sound coming from her throat as she tightened her grip on your throat. He watched as you gasped for air slightly at the action and his fist tightened.

He had to do something soon or else you wouldn't make it out. A part of him always knew that he would have to watch you die or vice versa but it had felt so far away.

You tried to say his name again and she squeezed tighter, black spots coming into your vision, causing you to close your eyes.

“Look at me,” he demanded and your eyes fluttered open again. You could feel yourself getting weaker and weaker every second but you had to see him again. Your eyes met and he stepped forward again, “Just let her go,”

“You have grown weak Cato,” the girl spat out as she looked at him.

She looked down at you, taunting him as she dragged the knife along the vein on your neck. She could kill you at any moment.

“I’m stronger than you,” he said, “Even your parents didn’t think you would win,”

He gave you a look and you tried to figure out what it meant as he cocked his head to the side, almost like he wanted you to make your escape.

That must have hit a nerve because Clove moved the knife away from your neck, pointing it at him angrily, “I will be the victor!” She yelled out, anger booming through the woods.

As she declared that, her grip on your throat weakened and you took this as your chance to escape. You elbowed her and slid down, rolling to the side. She threw two knives at you as you moved away and you tried to dodge them both.

She went to throw another one and that’s when Cato lunged at her, grabbing her and holding her for a second, her back pressed against his front.

”Come on, you knew she would never make it out. She’s not like us,” she said and he shook his head.

there was an anger in him that he didn't even recognise. There was no hesitation as he snapped her neck, watching the life leave her eyes before he tossed her to the ground.

You knelt up, gasping for breath as you tried to understand what had just happened. You looked at Cloves dead body and then at Cato who knelt down next to you, his hands cradling your face, “I told you to be careful,”

“She ambushed me,”

He nodded, “You’re safe now,” as he looked at you, he knew he would die for that girl. If he needed to, he would give his life to make sure that she would make it out of the area, so that she could get home.

He helped you up and you stood up with a wince, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and supporting your body before your knees buckled.

He helped you lie down, your head in his lap. He looked down to see the knife in your side; it was deep and oozing blood at this point.

“Cato,” you called out and he looked back at your eyes. You had never seen so much fear in his eyes before, “Let me go,”

“No, no, someone will get you help,” he promised.

You closed your eyes, already feeling the drowsiness overtaking you from your lack of oxygen. You knew you weren't going to make it out.

“I wish we met in another circumstance,” you said as he grabbed your hand, placing it over the open wound, and applying pressure to it.

“You would have loved my district,” he said, a slight smile on his face.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you thought about the life you could have had, waking up on Sunday mornings and seeing him lying there, still fast asleep, no worry creased between his brows.

He shook you awake and you looked up to see his brows furrowed, that worry plastered all over his face, “Stay awake, I’ll get help,”

He looked up at they sky, hoping he still had somebody out there who could help him. He yelled for someone to help him, for someone to send them something so that he could save her.

You reached up, blood stained hand coming to rest on his cheek and he looked down at you, “We both knew you’d make it through and not me,”

there was silence between you for a second because you both knew it was true. One of you had to die for the other to win.

“Please,” he didnt know what he was begging for. For you to stay alive? For this to have never happened to either of you?

You could feel the tears spilling over your cheeks, running down your cheeks. You could feel yourself slipping away as you looked at him. You took your last few moments to trace the curves off his face, to remember the way his hair fell over his face, to remember the brightness in his eyes.

“I’m glad we got to meet,” your voice was hoarse and he could hear you slipping away, “Maybe in the next life,”

Your hand slipped off of his cheek, going limp in his lap and he called out your name, trying to shake you awake. A sob racked his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time that he had cried but here he was, holding your body to his chest as he begged someone to save you, for this not to be real.

He had killed people in this arena, their blood staining his clothes, his skin, his soul. Yet here he was, your blood on his face, on his hands. It was everywhere and he let out a scream as he realised that this was the end for the two of you. He couldnt save you.

He screamed and screamed until he saw that the sun was setting even though it had just raised. This was the end of the game and it came with a price. He stood up and took one last look at your body. He pulled his jacket off, laying it over your chest like it would make any different.

Cato leant down once more, brushing your hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He ran away from the scene after that, heading towards the cornucopia with a knife in his hand and blood on his skin. Your blood.

He was going to win.

[welldonebeca]

the devil in the marble - masterlist

Summary: First love is always a little foolish; you look at the person by your side and plan a life with them with the ease a child has at imagining a fairytale. It’s feverish and impatient, with new experiences and new feelings, and a comfort one has never felt before.

After being asked to pose for a statue months before the 74th Hunger Games, Cato falls in love with its beautiful and odd sculptor.

Pairing: Female!Reader x Cato (District 2's Male Tribute)

Warnings: Fluff, falling in love, canon compliant, pre-74th Hunger Games, District 2. Tension. Hurt/Comfort.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Read it now on Archiveofourown.org.

Chapters out on Archive of our own every Sunday.

What if sequel coming to Patreon on October.

(more)

"the devil in the marble" was posted on my Patreon on June 2022. To read all 54 chapters now and have early access to the What-if Sequel "Happier than Ever" as it is posted, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

. . .

Taglist is open.

In the Hunger Games there are no winners, there are only survivors.

Year 0 - I'm starting to think I'm stuck in a dream, cause we're young and we don't know better

Part 1 / Part 2

Year 3 - I had a dream I got everything I wanted

Summary: Luna and Cato open their house to an interview after three years of privacy. Or: Three years into their marriage, Cato and Luna are tested once again. Warnings: Canon divergence - Cato wins the 74th Hunger Games. Tension. Pregnancy. Children. Fingering. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Posessive sex. Nightmares. Tension. PTSD.

Part 1 on Patreon (2nd of February on Tumblr/AO3) Part 2 on Patreon (16th of February on Tumblr/AO3)

Year 7 - You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness - Coming in March

When Cato is away post-Hunger Games, Luna tries to throw the kids a little party. She doesn't know he's going to come home so soon.

Year 10 - If I smile with my teeth, I bet you'll believe it - Coming in March

Cato and Luna celebrate their 10-year anniversary in a very long and mind-clearing day.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 - on Patreon now.

Year 15 - Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes - coming soon

[ervotica]

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

pairing: cato hadley x fem!reader

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

hunger games masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulls away heavy lidded and breathing hard.

“Caught you.”

[lovebeinaprincessworld]

Tragic Love (Cato Hadley x reader)

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Description: You made it out of the arena, but the Games are never really over.

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), p in v, no protection, talk of death, slight overstimulation, fingering

7791 words

Everything after you had thrown the berries to the ground was a blur. You remembered Peeta collapsing as soon as you entered the hovercraft, being rushed into surgery and a screaming Katniss being taken away. And what you vividly remembered was Cato having to be sedated so that they could separate the two of you. It hurt your heart to see him fighting to stay with you and you were in shock, seeing him being taken away.

You had seemingly been sedated too, because the next time you awoke was in a white room with no windows, dressed in just a nightgown and no idea how much time had passed. You felt weirdly smooth, all scars and scratches and dirt from the arena gone, your hair neatly cleaned and brushed and even your fingernails were clean and shaped perfectly.

Only your memories reminded you of the horrors now. And you truly wished Cato was with you, holding you close. But you had no idea where he was, and there was no way you could get to him if they didn’t want you to.

An Avox boy brought you a bit of soup, and you must’ve at least been out a few days considering that filled you more than enough - your stomach shrunken from lack of use. When the door opened again and the boy picked up the tray, you could suddenly hear loud commotion from the hallway.

You couldn’t make out what the voices were shouting, but you just knew it was Cato. „What’s going on there?“, your voice was a bit scratchy, and the boy looked at you with wide eyes, scurrying out of the room quickly. With furrowed brows you looked at where the door previously was and willed yourself to stand.

You were surprisingly steady on your feet, padding across the room barefoot and moved your arms around infront of the wall in hopes the door would open again. After a few minutes of trying you gave up, when suddenly the door did open and two exasperated mentors stood in front of you. Cecilia and Enorbia looked exhausted and you just stared back wide eyed.

Cecilia did crack a smile after all, even going as far as pulling you into a hug. „Congratulations honey, you did it“, she whispered and you couldn’t help but hug her back when it sank in that you would actually be going home. Your brain didn’t yet register that the games were over, the Captiol building feeling just as dangerous as the arena to you.

„Where is Cato? Is he okay?“, you turned your worried gaze to Enorbia when Cecilia let you go and she gave you a little smirk. „Yeah he’s just fine, a bit too fine if you ask me“, she rolled her eyes and you were confused. Too fine?

„What she means is that he won’t calm down“, Cecilia explained and you were worried again, „everytime they take him off the sedatives he flips out and won’t let anyone near him, demanding to see you right away.“

„Which is messing with our plan to have you reunite when the Victors are presented, but we decided to keep him from long lasting bodily harm - not sure how long Brutus can hold back anymore - we’ll take you to him“, if even his mentors seem unnerved he really had to be going crazy over there. But you could understand him, if you would’ve been the type to outwardly show and demand what you wanted you would probably act the same. Instead you had locked your desire to see if he was fine away - your were incredibly relieved you could see him now.

„Come on“, the women motioned for you to follow them and follow them you did. You didn’t have to go far, just down the corridor and then the door with loud voices behind it opened in front of you and a stone you didn’t know was there fell from you heart when you saw Cato standing in the middle of the room aggressively arguing with Brutus and Woof - who seemed to try to mediate between them.

Brutus noticed you first. „Thank god, now you can finally calm down, there she is, you lunatic“, Brutus crossed his arms and stepped back, Catos eyes immediately finding you and the breath was knocked out of you when they met yours.

You only managed to take a step towards him when he was already in front of you, pulling you into his arms immediately. You closed your eyes against the onslaught of emotions almost overpowering you, but here in his arms everything felt bearable, like nothing evil in the world could reach you. „Thank god you’re okay“, he murmured into your hair, his big hands holding your head to his chest securely and your hands gripped his shirt tightly. He was wearing the same color clothes as you, just a shirt and pants.

„Are you okay?“, you asked not pulling away yet and your voice stifled by his chest, but he still managed to hear you. „Yeah, now I am“, he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, and you could hear the other people in the room moving towards the door. „We’re going to give you a moment“, Cecilia said, ushering a still angry Brutus out of the room, the others following.

„You better be acting like hell when you’re 'reunited' boy!“, Brutus called just before the door closed and it was quiet in the room except for Catos heartbeat thundering under you ear. Cato relaxed a little now that you were alone, moving you two backwards until he was leaning against the bed, with you standing in between his legs.

„Heard you caused quite the ruckus?“, you smiled, your hands finding purchase on his chest and his on your waist. „Couldn’t help it, I had to see you“, he grinned and then as if he knew you were waiting for it, he leaned down, softly pressing his lips to your own, the familiar prickling in your stomach, the tingling on our skin making you sigh and lean into the kiss even more.

„I can’t believe we made it out“, he sighed between kisses, one hand moving to your face and pulling you into a more passionate kiss, your hand slipping to his biceps and taking note of how his muscles only seemed to have grown in the arena. „Yeah“, was the only thing you could say, pushing any and every thought of what this would mean for the future away - especially the one that you would both be living in different Districts.

————————

When you looked in the mirror while your prep team was hustling around you, you saw how much you had changed. It had only been a few weeks since you left home, and you looked significantly more mature, a bit skinnier too and while your eyes still had that kind look, they simultaneously reflected the horrors they had seen.

The interview with Caeser Flickerman and the big reunion were about to happen, and your brain was going haywire with thoughts about what would happen after. You still had your interview tomorrow, but after that you would get on the train home - Cato getting of in District 2 and you in District 8. You wouldn’t see him until the Victory Tour and after that you’d only see him once a year as long as you two were mentors.

It felt like a nightmare, you were able to make it out together and now you were going to live separate lives far away from eachother. You doubted the Capitol would make an exception for one of you to move Districts, and even if the would that would mean one of you had to leave behind their family, which was at least just as devastating as not seeing eachother.

„Come on, we have to go honey“, Aspasia seemed to understand your gloomy mood more than your team, but still firmly urged you towards Cecilia and Wuff. „Thank you“, you squeezed her shoulder lightly and followed your mentors to your platform under the stage.

You could already hear the audience going wild, impatient to finally see the four winners of these years hunger games. It was still crazy to you that the gamemakers let all of you live, but you were immensely grateful nevertheless. „Come here, give me a hug darling“, Woof grinned uncharacteristically and you stepped into his arms with a sense of doom.

He buried his mouth close to your ear in your hair, seemingly not wanting anyone to see what he was about to say and your heartbeat surged without him even starting. Something was wrong. „You’re in trouble (Y/N). The Capitol is furious having been shown up like that in the arena, they’re the joke of Panem“, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear and you did your best to freeze your smile in place and not to let anything show.

He let you go and gently urged you into Cecilia’s arms. „You need to convince them you were so desperately in love you didn’t know what you were doing. Your love story is definitely more believable than Katniss and Peetas but you still need to watch it“, she whispered, hugging you tightly before ushering you onto the platform that would take you up to the stage with a pounding heart.

You knew what she meant with more believable - you and Cato were from different districts, and Cato didn’t profit from you relationship at all, so people wouldn’t think you pretended to be in love to have advantages with sponsors or anything. But you were still deathly afraid at the thought of the Captiol being angry with you, knowing what gruesome retaliation they committed in the past.

The four of you were probably in much more trouble than you could comprehend, but the platform was moving after everyone from the teams were introduced and then you had to smile convincingly. As soon as you could be seen, the light blinding you for a moment, the crowd went wild, screaming all of your names, whistling, clapping, cheering.

You were entranced by the sight for a moment, before suddenly being swept into two strong and familiar arms, giggling between the kisses Cato pressed to your lips and holding onto him tightly. Cecilia was right, you didn’t even have to act. His big hand was cradling your face gently, while the other was holding you close by the waist, not planning to let go anytime soon.

The crowd was going crazy, and you could only imagine Katniss and Peeta looking similar to you. Caesar tried to interrupt Cato after a few minutes, but considering he was much taller and stronger, Cato just ignored him and didn’t even budge in favor of keeping on kissing you. You didn’t complain. Finally Cecilia did manage to get you to get him to move over to the couches Katniss and Peeta were already waiting on for you, cuddled together and wearing grins that seemed just a bit over the top.

The two of you sit together, Cato pulling you close, one arm securely around your waist and the other laying on top of your lap, gripping your thigh firmly with a smirk, making the crowd whoop. You blushed, while Caesar started with a few jokes and then you watched the summary of the games.

It was hard to keep a positive face while watching all those horrible moments again, basically reliving them and you were glad you had Cato next to you. Seeing your own reaping was weird, and it was terrible to watch every single death again, especially the ones from the tracker jacket nest that Katniss dropped on the careers shortly after you left - and damn were you glad that you did, and that Cato followed you.

Rue’s death was especially tragic, you didn’t even know that her and Katniss were allies but you liked the girl from district twelve even more for that. Watching the scenes of you and Cato kissing was kind of uncomfortable, but the audience loved it so you just smiled shyly. It became clear to you more and more the further you got into the summary why Peeta and Katniss did have to prove themselves more than Cato and you, your own love story just appearing more natural. But you could definitely see that there was something between them, Peeta at least was seriously in love.

After the moment with the berries, and the end of the Games, the anthem played again and you stood when Presdient Snow himself took the stage. The crowd went wild again, and then you could hear the confusion when they saw there was only one crown. But then he gave it a twist, and it separated into four individual slender crowns, and the crowd uhhed and ahhed excitedly.

He started with Cato, reaching up to place the crown on the tall careers head, before stepping infront of you with a smile that gave you goosebumps. He placed the crown on your head, his eyes snakelike, but when he placed the crown on Katniss head who was standing next to you, you could see a shift, and you knew even if all of you were willing to eat the berries, she was the one he blamed, she was the one he saw as the instigator.

————————

The Victory Banquet was as uncomfortable as one would imagine, shaking hands with sponsors and talking to everyone for hours, but at least Catos angry stare kept men from trying to dance with you, so you only danced with him a few times (which was a nice break from the turmoil around you). Katniss wasn’t so lucky, and you could see her cringe in the arms of a stranger a few times.

What was at least something positive, was that Cato and you were staying on the same floor, you had moved into the female tributes room on the floor from District 2, which was a weird feeling considering the last person wo slept here was Clove.

You would have your private interview with Caeser tomorrow at 12, Katniss and Peetas turn was after you at 2pm, and so Brutus had sent you both to bed immediately after dinner, not giving you alone time with Cato whatsoever. He still seemed a bit pissed at how Cato acted when you got out of the arena.

Now you were laying in bed wearing some comfortable pyjamas and the only thing you wanted was Cato. You couldn’t sleep, your thoughts running way to fast with everything that happened and all the things that could happen, and you were contemplating sneaking over to Catos room.

Everyone else should be in bed by now, you hadn’t heard any movement from the other side of the door the last hour, so after contemplating for another 30 minutes you finally got up and carefully slipped out of your room. Sneaking through the hallway you prayed that you wouldn’t encounter Enorbia or Brutus (you were pretty sure Cecilia and Woof wouldn’t make you go back to bed) and when you turned the corner and almost made it, you ran into somebody.

You would’ve screamed in shock if a big hand hadn’t muffled the sound - thank god because you really didn’t wanna wake anybody. „It’s just me“, a familiar voice whispered and Cato slowly took his hand of your mouth. „You scared me half to death!“, you hissed, but he only chuckled quietly and pulled you into his arms without much resistance from your side.

„Were you coming to see me?“, he smirked and you couldn’t help but blush eventhough he was obviously on his way to you too. „Couldn’t sleep“, you mumbled, and he pressed a kiss to your head. „Seems we had the same idea then“, he whispered, „come on.“

He picked you up effortlessly and carried you towards his room bridal style, closing the door behind him quietly and moved the both of you under the covers, before wrapping you in his embrace securely.

„What are we gonna do Cato?“, you finally broke the tense silence between you, knowing you had to talk about it. You pulled back a bit and saw how he only closed his eyes in agony instead of answering. „We won’t be seeing eachother for months, and after the Tour…“, you let the sentence hang in the air, not being able to say out loud how you would only see eachother once a year without choking up.

„Brutus says they want to play our lovestory from the tragic side“, Cato finally broke his silence, „he says…he says well never be able to be together.“ It was what you had anticipated, but hearing it out loud, made it real - and the pain that came with that was almost as intense as when you thought Cato would die. Because once one of you wouldn’t be a mentor anymore, you would probably never see eachother again.

Before the two of you could sink any deeper into your despair, Cato pressed his lips to yours in desperation. „Let’s just forget about that tonight“, he panted between kisses, his hands gently gliding underneath your night shirt, „please.“ The agony in his voice could’ve made you cry if it weren’t for the heat pooling in your lower body, when he took your shirt off.

Maybe it was best to be as close as possible tonight, try to savor it, try to savor him. You quickly got rid of his shirt, your hands roaming over his muscles. They moved beneath his skin when he pulled down your Pyjama pants, throwing them somewhere and leaving you only in your panties.

Breathlessly he pulled back, his eyes taking in every part of your body, seemingly trying to burn every detail into his memory. Cato wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget him, because he sure as hell would never forget you. Even the thought of you moving on with some boy from you district made him see red, pushing you onto your back and kissing you in a way that feels like he’s trying to show your body on an instinctual level who you belong to.

He needed to make you cum, needed to feel your body comply with his actions, needed to know that you would always be his. His lips skipped your breasts, his body moving straight towards where you needed him most. In his desperation he tore your panties straight off of you, making you yelp in shock, before it turned into a moan when he dove straight in without giving you room to breathe.

His tongue spread your folds with a groan, his lips wrapping around your clit immediately and your back was arching with the intense pleasure that flooded through you. „Cato“, you whimpered, trying not be too loud and your hands found purchase in his hair while he mercilessly stimulated your clit with his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to approach your high, the familiar feeling in your belly rising. You were about to give him a warning, when suddenly his teeth grazed your clit and you were thrown over the edge with such an intensity that your thighs clamped around Catos head while you were grinding your pussy into his greedy mouth.

„Good girl“, he growled when you came down from your orgasm, but he didn’t let you catch your breath. He was a bit more gentle, but he still flattened his tongue against your overstimulated clit, slowly moving and holding you in place so you couldn’t twitch away.

„Cato“, you whined, pussy clenching around nothing and you weren’t sure if you wanted to move towards the pleasure or away from the tongue moving against your swollen and sensitive folds, „it’s too much.“

„Shh baby, give me one more, I know you can“, he hummed against your pussy, the feeling spreading through your body liked fire, even your fingertips tingling with the sensation. You only registered his fingers when they were knuckle deep inside of you, curling into your sweet sport and stretching you out.

You didn’t know up and down any more, god this was so much more intense and overwhelming than your first time, and you could only guess how much Cato held back then. Not that you were complaining that he wasn’t holding back now.

His fingers were relentlessly moving in and out, your cunt clenching tightly around him as if you couldn’t wait for him to replace his fingers with his cock. But he needed to feel you cum for him a second time before taking you fully.

You were already so riled up that it didn’t take very long, he expertly stroked the spongey spot inside of you while his tongue lapped at your clit. You were whimpering, trying to keep your moans quiet and when you finally snapped and came hard around his fingers, you had to clutch your hand infront of your mouth to suppress the sounds escaping you.

After helping you ride out your second orgasm Cato finally pulls away from you for a moment to shed his pants, his rock hard member already leaking precum. You were still panting when he laid down on top of you, his cock sliding through your messy and wet pussy, coating him enough to easily slip inside of you.

„You ready?“, he asked, lightly nipping at your neck and you were momentarily stunned by how much in love you were with him. „Yeah“, you stared up at him lovingly when he pushed himself onto his forearms above you, „I love you.“

Catos heart stumbled when he heard you, no matter how many times you’d say it, it would always make him feel like the first time you did. He kissed you gently, sliding into you steadily and your breath hitched. „I love you“, he mumbled against your lips, starting to move right away, not being able to hold back - fortunately you were so wet you didn’t really need time to adjust.

His hips found their rhythm, pounding into you hard but oh so good. You tried to soak it all in, the way the head of his cock relentlessly brushed against that one spot inside of you, the way the stretch burned so good, and the way his hand snuck down between you and started circling your clit so perfectly you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts anymore.

Cato could tell the both of you wouldn’t last very long, emotions were running too high and he could feel you clenching around him tightly as if to pull him in even further. He littered your pretty face with kisses, one hand grabbing your thigh and pulling your leg higher up around him, the changed angle making you moan so loudly he had to quiet you with a kiss.

And then suddenly you came, gripping him so hard he followed you right off the edge, pushing into you as far as possible and spilling his load deep into your still fluttering pussy, making a satisfied hum leave your lips.

He buried his head in your neck, almost being overwhelmed by his emotions. This felt just like the night on the rooftop, the possibility of barely seeing eachother again looming over the two of you. But here in the dark, in eachothers arms, you were able to push it aside in favor of holding onto the other and reveling in the feeling.

——————————

The private interview with Caeser without an audience went as good as it could’ve, but that also meant that you were back on the train and in less than an hour Cato would be the first to get off in District 2. You were currently sitting in the back of the train, in something resembling a sunroom, big windows lining the couches that were put in there.

You were lying in Catos arms, both of you dreading the moment Enorbia or Brutus would come to tell you it was time. You had managed not to cry just yet, but after many gentle kisses and caresses the door did slide open and it was Brutus who delivered the bad news. Cato had to go.

He even looked a bit emphatic, and now that you were following him through the train towards the door where Cato would get off, you couldn’t help your tears anymore. Cato was walking in front of you, holding your hand tightly so he couldn’t see the tears silently running down your face and you tried to calm down before reaching the door and wipe them away.

You didn’t succeed. When you stopped and Brutus gave you a moment while going to collect Enorbia and Catos team, he turned around and his face fell wenn he saw your tears. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again and just pulled you into his arms. Then you really couldn’t stop the tears anymore.

„Its gonna be okay love“, he whispered, and you could hear people starting to pour into this part of the train, his prep team, mentors and so on, but they were giving you two space. You didn’t say anything, your throat closing up anytime you were even thinking about letting him go, so you just held on tighter when you felt the train pull into the station.

„Cato we need to go“, Enorbia said next to you, and you could hear the train door whoosh open, probably giving the cameras outside the perfect view of the tragic couple. You could hear the crowd cheering for their victor and forced yourself to release Cato.

„I love you“, he said one last time, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears away. „I love you“, you chocked out, and then he kissed you for the last time in months, before stepping outside to be greeted by his district and leaving you behind.

—————————

The past months had been agonizing, and it was terrible to think that this was your life now, seeing Cato once a year if at all. It was great to see your parents and your younger brother again, and your were so happy that now that you were a Victor you could provide a better life for them. Your district welcomed you back proudly, but you could definitely feel the underlying tension, the unhappy grumbling people did more openly, criticizing the Capitol.

Your last months had been filled with lots of time spend with your family, who didn’t have to work anymore now that you’ve won the Games, but also lots of time to think and overthink. You and Cato hadn’t had any chance to contact eachother, as contact between districts was strictly forbidden and sanctioned if caught.

But it was almost time for the Victor Tour, and while you didn’t look forward to the Tour itself, you could barely wait to see Cato again. You were incredibly excited to see him again, but also a bit nervous. Since you hadn’t had any chance to talk to eachother, you didn’t know what had happened back in his district. Maybe he thought the long separation wasn’t worth it or maybe he met someone else. Not that you honestly believed that, your brain was - as usual - playing the worst case scenarios.

Your prep team would arrive today, fixing you up and filming your talent for the audience. Your talent was obviously going to be embroidery, it was what you could do best and it also represented you district.

You heard them before you saw them, the bell ringing and your mother welcoming them, your father and little brother had left to go to the market and avoid the Capitol crowd for now - the both of them didn’t like the hustle they brought with them. Your mother didn’t either, but she knew you needed someone there.

„We missed you so much!“, Jaethe basically squeaked, the small man with orange hair embraced you warmly, followed by Loidy and Agatha, completing your prep team. „Aspasia wants us to get you back to a blank canvas, she’s downstairs and left you to our capable hands“, Loidy grinned, already unpacking all the ointments, creams and tools the brought with them. You shivered when they mentioned a blank canvas, that meant every hair on your body was going to get waxed. Ouch. „We have so much to catch up on!“, Agatha added. Double ouch.

—————————

You loved our prep team and Aspasia, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t glad to finally be on the way to the train. You were, of course, sad to say goodbye to your family again, but atleast this time you weren’t in danger of dying. Also there were only a few minutes separating you and Cato, making your heart pound so hard you could feel it.

The Tour would start in District 11, going towards the Capitol and leaving out the Districts of the Victors, which you would seperately visit afterwards. It was much more complicated this year, as the four of you came from different districts.

This would also mean, that Cato was the first one that had been picked up, you had watched his farewell in his district on the tv, the smile not being able to be wiped from your face again. And now it was your turn to be picked up, the train rolling into the station. Somewhere in that massive metal construction, Cato was waiting for you. At least you hoped he was - hoped he was still as in love with you as you were with him.

When the door opened with a hiss, Cecilia ushered you forward and as soon as you took the first step into the wagon, a big hand pulled you in all the way, strong arms tugging you into a familiar broad chest. You knew the cameras were most likely rolling, but you didn’t care, you were just so relieved that Cato seemed to have missed you just as much.

Without saying much, he pulled you away from the others immediately, away from the prep teams, mentors and cameras, towards the end of the train and the sitting area you had to say goodbye in last time. The door closed behind you and you had some privacy, and you were about to say something when he interrupted you with a desperate kiss.

You gasped in surprise, your hands shaking slightly from all the overwhelming emotions, but simultaneously holding onto his shirt tightly. One hand was grasping your waist firmly, while the other was holding your face gently and he was changing pace, his lips moving softer and slower now.

When you finally pulled back panting, you weren’t sure how you ever made it without him for so long, without that deep feeling of belonging and safety, and of course his kisses. „I missed you so much“, Cato rasped, his thumbs trailing your jaw, your eyes meeting his and your lips pulling into a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

„Missed you too“, you whispered, letting yourself be pulled down onto the couch and into his arms again, just enjoying what little time you had together for now. „I don’t know how we’re supposed to live like this“, he sighed, his forehead resting against yours, and instead of answering, you just kissed him again

——————————

You had greeted Katniss and Peeta with a hug when they entered the train, showing a united front to the cameras outside, but also because you really liked them and actually did consider them friends. You were in this together. And now you were sitting through Effie’s summary of the upcoming tour together.

„Yes and of course after we’re done in District 1, you’ll have the great honor to attend and enjoy the party at the presidents mansion thrown just for you! You will be staying in the training center of course, but that’s exciting too isn’t it?“, she was ranting on and on, asking questions without really wanting an answer and eventhough she really romanticized all of this, you couldn’t even be really mad at her, she was just too naive.

„Okay Effie I think they got it, why don’t we send them off to bed they have and early morning tomorrow“, Haymitch finally interrupted her and send you victors a small wink. „Yes, yes you’re quite right, you should get some sleep, go on!“, she ushered you out of the dining room like a ruffled chicken, and the lot of you couldn’t keep in the small chuckles and giggles that left you, on the way to your respective bedrooms.

Peeta and Katniss went into their rooms separately, while you and Cato had to walk down the hallway a bit further into another wagon to your rooms. Instead of going into his though, Cato followed you into yours naturally, sending you a smirk when the door closed behind the two of you.

„I really did miss you“, he hummed, taking steps towards you until he stopped right in front of you. „I missed you too, so much“, you whispered, holding your breath in anticipation when his fingers grasped the bottom of your dress, pulling it upwards slowly. „Gonna show you how much“, he grumbled, pulling your dress over your head and laying you down on the bed. You really missed him, and you definitely missed this too.

——————————

When you were stepping out onto the stage in District 11, the first district of your tour, you could immediately feel the tense atmosphere. Peeta had volunteered to give the speech, and you were glad, because even if you hadn’t known Rue very well, she was the death that hurt the most. You could see how hard Katniss was trying to rule in her emotions at the devastating picture Rues family painted.

„Thank you. We’re honored to be here with you today“, Peeta started reading the speech Effie hat written for him, and your eyes wandered over the disgruntled faces in the crowd, the high number of peace keepers all around, and you wondered what happened here. „And to be with the families of your fallen tributes“, he continued, but stopped for a moment letting his gaze roam over the crowds too. And then he put away the paper with Effie’s speech, and Cato held your hand a bit tighter.

„Though they fought and lived with honor and dignity until the end, both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren’t just measured in years, they’re measured in the lives of people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, for all of us, we know that without Rue and without Tresh we wouldn’t be standing here today“, Peeta spoke from his heart, and you could see the people of 11 appreciated that.

„So in recognition of that, knowing that it in no way can make up for your loss, we’d like to donate one month of our winnings to the families of the Tributes every year, for the rest of our lives“, the people applauded his generosity, and you thought it was a really sweet gesture. But it also was something that’s never been done before, and you had a bad feeling about what the Capitol might think about it, and what might become of this.

„Thank you“, Peeta said, and you were turning to go back inside, when Katniss suddenly spoke up. „I just wanted to say that, I didn’t know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could have killed me, but instead he showed me mercy - he showed us mercy“, she found your gaze, reminding you of the way he sacrificed himself at the end of the games and let you go, a wistful smile on your lips. „That’s a debt we’ll never be able to repay.“

„I did know Rue. She wasn’t just my ally, she was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in a Mockingjay song. I see her in my sister Prim. She was too young, too gentle. And I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry“, a few lone tears were rolling down Katniss cheeks, matching your own, while you held onto Cato tighter.

Suddenly an old man in the crowd whistled the melody you recognized as Katniss and Rues signal from the games, raising three fingers to his mouth and then into the air. Then the whole crowd followed his example. And while you were being pushed from the stage, watching in horror as the old man was dragged onto stage, the people in the crowd screaming and being beaten, you knew your bad feeling was right. Just as the door was about to be shut, you could feel yourself scream when you saw the old man being executed.

———————

Haymitch had ushered you through the Justice Building through corridors and up several stairs, until you were finally in some dingy attic, where you were sure nobody could overhear you. And he looked pissed. Your mentors stayed behind to distract people and deal with the fallout. „You four had a really simple task“, he joked humorlessly, and you knew something bigger than what you knew was going on.

„I never meant for anyone to get killed! He has to know that“, Katniss was in tears and you were trying to hold it together, only managing so with Cato silently being your rock and holding you securely. „What are you talking about?“, you asked, and Haymitch seemed to be just as confused adding, „Who has to know what?“

„Snow. He came to see me.“, and that was the moment you all knew you were in bigger trouble than you thought, „He’s worried about rebellion in the districts.“ Now the scene downstairs made a bit more sense. „He thinks that they didn’t believe our love story. Mine and Peetas that is, because I had the idea with the berries.“

„So he wants you to make them believe it?“, Haymitch inquired, pacing back and forth. „To calm things down“, Katniss was breathless. „You know Katniss, you shoulda told me that before I went out there, and tried to give these people the money!“, Peeta was angry too, and you could feel Cato getting angry behind you. „I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do! He threatened to kill my family!“, Katniss was desperate, but you also had to admit she was thinking of herself in that moment.

„We have families too, Everdeen! People we need to protect, this isn’t just about you, we’re all in this together if you haven’t noticed“, Cato sarcastically spat, while Peeta just covered his mouth and shaking his head at Katniss. „What about them? Who protects them?“, Haymitch pointed out the tinted window, and you knew he was right, „Katniss what were you thinking?“

„I was thinking about Rue“, Katniss was so devastated you had to step in. You gently grabbed Haymitch sleeve, making him look towards your frightened face. „Haymitch please, please can’t all of you just help us make it through this trip? Just help us get through this“, you pleaded with him, and Katniss nodded in support.

„This trip girl? Wake up“, he snapped his fingers impatiently, „this trip doesn’t end when you get back home. You never get off this train, you four are mentors now, that means that every year they’re gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance, in your case“, he pointed to Katniss and Peeta, „all the happy milestones and in yours“, he nodded towards you two, „they’re never gonna let you be together, dragging that tragic love story form two districts out every year. They want to punish you, every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on your job is to be a distraction, so people forget what the real problems are.“

„So what are we gonna do?“, Peeta asked, and the sense of dread settled deeper and deeper into your stomach. „You’re going to smile, you’re going to read the cards that we give you, and you’re going to play along. Think you can do that?“

———————————

The districts weren’t calming down, it felt like they were getting angrier with every pre-written speech and fake smile. And you also couldn’t stop thinking about what Haymitch said, how you and Cato would never be allowed to be together to keep the tragic romance going, your outlook on life getting severely darker.

Cato seemed to be affected too, you didn’t really talk about it, really no sense in discussing what you couldn’t change, but you noticed how he was with you every minute that was possible, always touching you in some way. He wasn’t good with words, but you heard him anyway, in his own way.

You made it through the Districts, Katniss and Peeta deciding to get engaged in the Capitol to make their romance more believable, and the people were eating it up. One more thing you and Cato would never be able to do.

You were in the Presidential Palace, „the party of the year“, as Effie had called it, and were currently dancing with Cato. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that people here threw up their food on purpose to eat more, and in other Districts children starved to death, when you spotted Katniss dancing with the middle aged man you were earlier introduced to called Plutarch Heavensbee. He was going to be the new Headgamemaker - after his predecessor Seneca seemed to have met a premature end.

You were just happy that Cato, once again, threw harsh enough glares at all the weird and kind of slimy Captiol men who looked like they wanted a dance with you, so that they left you alone. Suddenly the anthem started playing, effectively stopping your dancing and making everyone turn towards the balcony.

„Tonight, on this, the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our four Victors. Four young people, who embody our ideals of strength and valour. And I personally, want to congratulate two of them on the announcement of their engagement“, Presidnet Snow started and the crowd was cheering and you could see how uncomfortable Katniss was, Peeta could fake it way better.

„Your love has inspired us, and I know it will go on inspiring us, every day, for as long as you may live“, President Snow ended the speech, raising the glass and a firework started. Everyone was looking at it, but you always noticed the little things, not missing the interaction between Snow and Katniss. He shook his head.

————————

Saying goodbye to Cato was rushed this time, the Peace keepers basically pushing you out of the train and holding Cato back, the rebellious mood cutting the celebrations in your respective Districts shorter than normal, and only when you were laying back in your own bed, could you really start to miss him.

Over the following months you missed him dearly, every day the ache was there, even if it grew more dull. And life back at home was harder. Peacekeepers were even stricter than before, whipping people, imposing curfews and even executing people here and there, it was horrible. You still remembered the scene from District 12, where Katniss was about to stop the new Headpeacekeeper, when the broadcast cut off, so you figured it wasn’t different in the other Districts either.

You and your family were sitting on the couch together, waiting for the Quarter Quell to be announced, President Snow stepping onto the balcony. You were nervous about what you had to deal with as a first time mentor this year. „Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of the Games, that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol“, he started, and you already had goosebumps in anticipation of whatever horrible twist those games would have.

„Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd Quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol“, he continued, and you leaned forward in dreadful anticipation of what that meant, „on this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes are to be reaped, from the existing pool of Victors in each district.“ The scream you let out was agonizing, your mother pulling you into her arms sobbing.

————————

It was horrible, walking up towards the stage on the day of the Reaping, only you, Cecilia and Woof being up there, knowing you’d have to most likely go into the arena again. It was either you or Cecilia, and you wouldn’t expect either of you to volunteer for the other. The Reaping in 12 was already over, you heard it was Katniss and - after volunteering for Haymitch - Peeta again. You could cry thinking about going trough this again with the same people, knowing at some point you couldn’t be allies anymore.

And you also had no way of contacting Cato about this, no way of talking about this horrible turn of events. He was the only one of you four that actually had a pretty good chance at not being reaped, considering there were so many Victors in his District. But you knew him, and you knew that the Reaping from District 8 happened several hours before District 2, and should it be you that would be chosen, he would volunteer instead of whoever got reaped in his District to be with you, to protect you. You just knew it, knew how stubborn he was. And you loved and hated him for that at the same time.

„We‘ll start with the gentlemen this time“, the escort for your District smiled uncomfortably, pulling out the lonely paper that was at the bottom of the big jar, „Woof Jasone.“ Emotionless the old man stepped forward and faced the crowd. Your heart was basically jumping out of your chest. Now was the moment of truth. „Your turn Ladies“, you couldn’t even think of how inappropriate she was being in this situation, just staring at her hand reaching into your jar.

She opened the piece of paper slowly, your hands all clam and cold with fear. „(Y/N) (Y/L/N)“, she read the same name she said last year. Yours.

===========

Finally finally a third part and I’m incredibly sorry, I just sometimes can’t motivate myself to write!! Also funny thing I just moved from Germany to Australia for a year so that’s exciting :) Let me know how you like this part and if you wanna read more and want to be tagged! xx

Taglist: @lisedanie @iskamr @fangirlninja67 @star611 @markeyateallyourfood @urmomsbananabread @faces-ofvenus @hopefulatrocity @inej-ruination-ghafa @trainboom @dxrkheavensworld

[7s3ven]

… [ MASTER LIST ] ༊*·˚

“ he hit me & it felt like a kiss 💋 ” - ultraviolence, lana.

↓

who i write for ,

Harry Potter - Slytherin gang (fancast too), Golden trio, Tom Riddle, Cedric Diggory

Hunger Games - Cato Hadley + The Careers, President Snow, Peeta, Finnick O'dair

Maze Runner - Minho, Thomas, Gally

Percy Jackson - Luke Castellan (<3), Percy Jackson, Clarisse La Rue, Stoll brothers, Jason Grace (<3)

Avatar - Jake Sully, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Tsireya, Aonung, Quaritch, Recoms

Miscellaneous - Gilbert Blythe (AWAE), Tristan Dugray (Gilmore Girls), Hannibal Lecter, Tim Bradford (Rookie)

Call of Duty - Simon Ghost Riley, Kyle Gaz Garrick, John Price, John Soap Mactavish, Philip Graves, Kortac (coming soon)

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

HARRY POTTER…

HUNGER GAMES…

MAZE RUNNER...

PERCY JACKSON...

AVATAR...

CALL OF DUTY…

[bravo4iscool]

torn apart chapter index

(cato hadley x fem!(plus-size!)reader)

join my tag list for "torn apart"!

Once the both of you reach the library Cato pushes you inside and closes the door behind him. You spin around to look at him, a thousand questions spinning around in your head. “What is all this?” You point between you and him.

Cato sighs and twists his mouth. “Your parents offered me your hand in marriage,” he cuts it short.

Your eyes widen and your jaw falls slack. “Excuse me? Have I heard that correct–”

“You have,” Cato says. “They offered and…I said yes.” He slowly walks closer to you while you start to shake your head. This couldn’t–this couldn’t be true. Why would your parents do something like that? “I know it’s a shock,” his voice is calm as he talks to you and you raise your hand to signal him to stop.

or, you’re in an arranged marriage with cato hadley after he wins the 74th hunger games

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

(masterlist overview | hunger games masterlist | join my tag list for "torn apart"!)

[alavestineneas]

Home

pairing: catohadley x fem!reder

summary: He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price. warnings: canon-typical violence; mentions of meat (as in reader owns a butcher shop); trauma and poverty word count: 6k

author's note: hello beautiful people! In honour of my birthday, I am posting about this bad boy today. Hope you like it - it was such a fun thing to write! Enjoy!

The stones under his worn boots are changing quickly; they are coloured in all shades of grey, sometimes with funny black dots on their rounded bellies. Cato would stop and collect a few if it wasn't for the important task at hand: Mom sent him to the butcher's, letting him take the thinly metaled coins for the first time, which are now snugly stored in the pockets of his raggy coat. He has the order memorized; Mom always buys the same. Three pig legs for the soup, which are then added to the porridge she cooks, and two bottles of the cheapest milk on the counter. It's good for the bones in his body, she says, and Cato believes her. Soon, he will start school; he has to be strong to get the chance to try out for the academy.

The butcher's is just around the corner; it's the only shop in their block that is always open. And, although the signboard is already faded, it is still his favourite place to visit. The door opens with a creek, and a small bell over Cato's head sings its cheerful melody. He takes a few steps inside, the colourful counters greeting him with all kinds of meat and sausages. He reads the curved writing on each of the signs carefully, trying out the way the letters come together in words. The sound of rushed steps is the only thing that breaks his mesmerization. They are soon changed by the grunting of the wood chair on the old tiled floor, and then, finally, a head pops up from behind the stands.

''Good afternoon!'' A pair of curious eyes stare at him, a smile missing a few teeth serving as a second greeting. ''What can I do for you today?'' the girl asks, changing her cheerful demeanour to a more serious, business-like tone.

Cato straightens up, his fingers finding the coins. He is a grown-up now; no other four-year-old he knows is allowed to go to the butcher's by themselves. ''I am here to buy meat.''

The girl laughs, her hair shaking with her mirth.

Cato feels the redness creep to his ears—of course, he is here to buy meat; everyone does. ''Why are you behind there anyway?'' he mutters, crossing his hands in front of himself. He thinks the girl should stop now; it's really not nice to laugh at others.

''Grandpa went to trade for bread and left me as the captain here,'' the girl boasts.

''That's a shame.'' Partly because Cato liked Grandpa Marc—he always sneaked a few pieces of candy for him and his brothers at home—and partly because he didn't like the little know-it-all. ''I would like three pig legs and two bottles of the cheapest milk,'' he declares in one breath, careful not to mess up. He isn't sure he can take another wave of her laughter.

''Sure,'' the girl nods, packing the meat in a big brown bag. Cato patiently waits as she moves her chair to reach the milk shelves, stopping before them. ''Which one again?''

''Shirley's.''

The girl doesn't move; the flowers on the back of her dress are still facing him.

''Shirley's,'' he repeats a little louder. Cato feels silly again; he doesn't like the mean girl and the way she teases him. ''Are you stupid? The one with the blue cap is Shirley's.''

''Right,'' she finally grabs it, moving to the register. Her hands work quickly, wrapping the goods and putting them together. ''The meat is this much money, '' she scrambles the numbers on the piece of paper lying nearby, ''and milk is this much.''

Cato goes over the symbols, carefully counting the total in his head. ''Here,'' he says, reaching for the money. ''And you wrote the two here wrong—it should be facing the other way, like a swan.''

''Oh. Sorry about that. Is this with change?'' She points to the colourful coins on the wood.

''Don't you know how to count? You need to give me 50 cents in change.''

''I do!'' she argues, her hand slapping the counter. ''I was just, hm, testing you!''

''Sure. Then why are you giving me two dollars back now?'' Cato raises an eyebrow. Part of him wants to laugh at her, just like she did moments ago. But he doesn't. Instead, he swaps the coins for the right amount, giving her the money back. ''Here you go. All good.''

''Thank you! Have a nice day!''

Cato nods, grabbing the bag and exiting the shop with a light heart. He did what his mom asked him to; she will be very happy to know that. The air is warm, and the soft wind is hitting him right in the face. In no time, Cato is home; the door is never locked. He places the bag on the kitchen table; Mom will see it when she puts the baby to sleep. His third brother - the other two are sleeping on the big bed in the children's room. That used to be his, but now he is a big boy—he sleeps on the couch in the living room, right near the kitchen. He likes it here; the baby's crying is not as loud, and he can see Mom as often as he wants to when she cooks.

There's not much to do right now; it's the ''quiet hours'' in Hadley's house. Usually, Cato would go play outside at this time, but instead, he grabbed the big book from the kids' shelf. There, with big, red letters, are all of the alphabets and numbers. It was his favourite. Cato remembers how mom would sit with him on her lap, her soft finger circling every picture. ''This is one. Look, it has a tiny nose, just like you do! Here, give me your hand—that's one finger you have, little gentleman!''

Cato throws one last glance at the closed door to the parent's room—he decides that mom won't be mad at him if he plays not in front of the house for once—and grabs the book, leaving the still place. This time, he grabs a few of the prettiest rocks on his way—he builds bridges and castles with them in the small creek behind their house. The butcher's is still empty when he gets there; the girl sits on the tall chair, drawing on the paper.

''What are you drawing?'' Cato asks, trying to see, but the counter is too tall for him to reach.

The girl doesn't look surprised to see him here; it's like he never left in the first place. ''It's worms. Papa worm, mama worm, and little worm. They are having dinner.''

''What are they eating? Meat?''

''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''Meat is expensive; they have no money. They're eating a dirt pie. Here,'' the girl climbs off the chair, sitting down on the floor instead. Cato sits down near her, looking over her shoulder. ''They have small plates and spoons.''

''My dad doesn't like pies. He likes potatoes more.'' Cato thinks meat is better than pies and potatoes, but he doesn't tell Dad that. The girl tells the truth: meat is expensive.

''Where is he? At work?''

''Yeah, at the factory.'' Most people work at the factory—that's what Cato's dad says. They go when it's dark outside and Cato is still sleeping, and they return when the clock shows all zeros. Then, his dad eats while his mom drinks tea, and they whisper about something. ''And yours?''

The girl shrugs. ''I don't have one. It's just Grandpa and me. What is this?'' She points to the book in Cato's hands, and he finally remembers why he came.

''That's my book. It has numbers. Do you want to see?''

The girl beside him nods, and Cato smiles. He opens the book and proudly shows off the beautiful pictures. The girl likes them; she listens carefully to what Cato has to say about each letter. He likes it when he doesn't laugh at him.

-

''Good morning, Grandpa Marc!'' Cato greets the man behind the counter, cutting up yet another piece of meat. It's early, but he already stands in the butcher's, his dad's old bag on his shoulder. They can't be late for the academy.

''I'm coming, I'm coming!'' YN shouts, biting into the apple in one of her hands and tucking in her shirt with the other. ''Bye, Pa, see you!''

They both passed the exam for the academy; only four people from their neighbourhood did. They got the chance only because they were ''exceptional'' students, the only four whose training was free for now. The debt will be paid by them volunteering or after the academy through their future salaries. Cato knows that no one is actually able to pay it off; he will volunteer as soon as possible. YN will go; they agreed to go in different years.

That's how it always was with them—they walked to the academy and home together, trained, and learned together. Cato helped Grandpa in the shop, and YN often looked after his brothers. It was the endless stream of jokes from everyone around—you never saw one without the other, not even on the rating board. That was until year nine.

''I decided I'm not going to sit with you at lunch,'' Cato tells the girl walking beside him on the dusty road.

YN doesn't answer right away; she watches her feet instead. ''Let me guess—you will be with the mayor's son and his pack?''

''As a matter of fact, yes. They are my friends, and they invited me to sit with them.'' It annoys him the tone she is using.

''They are not your friends, Cato. They only do that, so you will volunteer for them when the time comes.'' YN is angry; her hands on the straps of the backpack are tightly clenched.

''So what? I'm going to volunteer anyway, so why not sit with them? There is nothing to do here, and they are always hanging out at movies or something.''

''Oh, so that's what it is about.'' YN stops, turning to him. ''You want to be one of them now.''

''Of course, I fucking do!'' Cato exclaims. ''We are dirt poor, YN. I don't want to live all my life in this shithole.''

YN's face changes; her eyes look at him as if for the first time. ''This is home, Cato. This is where we belong.''

''I don't. And I will find a way out of here, and you can stay in this mud as much as you like, but I will not let you drag me down with you.''

She slaps him. The hit is heavy; they are both trained to take blows, but it stings him more than it should. Cato watches as YN leaves, her quick steps echoing on the empty street in the morning fog. He doesn't know why her flower dress comes to mind—it's a contrast to the hard truth of reality. He lost a friend here, but Cato would need to learn how to lose much more if he wanted to get the hell out of here. And he does, no matter the price.

-

YN can live without him as much as he does, she tells herself. She didn't decide to ruin the friendship, so she won't be the one to apologize, no matter how long the silence lasts. If he thinks that she will run back to him after four months of not talking, he is wrong. YN is fine; she still has two friends at the academy, she still has her grandpa and the beautiful sun above her head. It smiles at her every time she walks home alone, filling in the small gap in her chest with its golden rays. Her new companion.

What she doesn't expect is a group of people in front of the shop; they shout and argue, running around with ice and water in their hands. YN runs too; something happens. Fear rises in her stomach and travels to her throat when she sees the white coat of the doctor standing near the counter, a concerned expression on his face. ''I'm sorry,'' he tells her. YN clutches her bag, trying so hard not to cry as the crowd of familiar faces surrounds her.

He fell while trying to reach for the shelf, and a customer found him unconscious on the floor. Grandpa broke seven bones in his body and damaged his head. They are taking him to the hospital for, god knows, how long. The doctor places a hand on her shoulder; the cost of surgery is covered by the state, but she needs money for the medicine. They don't have any.

YN spends an hour crying into her pillow before pulling herself together—she is alone. It's not some stupid game they play—they pretend to win for years in the generated arenas in some big green boxes—it's life. The most brutal arena of all. So, she does what any fifteen-year-old would do—she washes her face with ice-cold water and grabs the keys from the shop. She has to speak with a few people.

-

The door to Hadley's home is never locked; nobody closes it in their neighbourhood, but YN still knocks out of respect. Cato opens it; she is surprised he is here and not with his new friends. He wants to say something, but YN has no time for him.

''Is your dad home?'' YN asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

Cato nods. ''Come in. Mom, it's YN.'' He shouts, closing the door behind her.

''Ah, YN. How is Grandpa Marc?'' She is cooking something—a big pot boiling with the best smell one could imagine.

The woman's concerned face stirs something in YN, so she fights the urge to cry and swallows her tears instead. ''Alive

''Come sit with us; we were just preparing to eat.''

YN wants nothing more than a plate of something warm, but she declines. She came here not to lessen the portion of someone; nobody here has money to make extra food. ''Thank you, but I need to speak with Mister Janus.''

''Spill it.'' Mr. Janus nods, standing up from the couch.

''Can we speak outside?'' YN asks, feeling a pair of blue eyes on her.

''Of course,'' Mister Janus shares a look with his wife before stepping outside. ''What happened, kid?''

YN takes some air inside her lungs. ''Is there a place for me at the factory for the night shifts?'' The man opens his mouth to argue, but YN is quicker. ''I know I am young, but I am strong from all the training, and I know a lot of useful things. I can reach where most men can't, and I will do anything you ask me to, I promise.''

Mister Janus sighed. ''I know you are good, but what about the academy? Night shift is six to six; you won't have time to get enough sleep and do the homework.''

''I quit the academy.''

''What?'' Mister Janus's face changes. ''YN, why? It's the only chance for you to survive.''

''Work is the only way for me to survive. Poverty and an empty stomach will kill me much faster than some games. I need the job, Mister Janus, please. If you don't give it to me, I will look for it elsewhere.''

The man thinks, his forehead creased with worry. ''Fine, kid. But be careful—get enough rest and don't push yourself too hard. We are here to help if you need us to.''

''Thank you, thank you so much!'' YN smiles, a few tears escaping her eyes. She hugs the man tightly, a glimmer of hope finally appearing. ''Thank you, Mister Janus; I will not let you down!''

Mistes Janus smiles back, patting her back. ''Go before it gets too dark; I'll see you tomorrow at five thirty.''

He watches as YN turns the corner of the street before returning to the warmth of his house. How much do these kids have to endure in this world?

-

YN didn't push herself too hard; she simply did what she was supposed to do. At six, she returned to the shop after the shift at the factory—butcher's opened at eight—so she had two hours to wash the dirt and sweat away with the old basin and a little warm water from the kettle and to master something edible on the stove. When that was done, she would dissect the meat and check the dates on milk bottles; the soon-gone bad would go to the sale section, and the new ones took their place. Then, the doors of the butcher's opened—people still needed to eat, and YN wasn't about to let them starve because of her own ''tiredness.''

The heaviest flow was in the morning, with the shop becoming quieter in the afternoon—that's when she took most of her sleep in, resting her head on the wooden counter and closing her eyes for a second. Oftentimes, customers would find her like this—they gently shook her shoulder and woke her up before ordering. Each time, YN felt shame creep to her cheeks, but each time, no one said a word to her; they just smiled, thanked her, and left the shop with a big brown bag in her hands.

That's how the rest of the year passed, with it becoming slightly easier when Grandpa was finally discharged from the hospital. His right arm didn't move like it used to, and it was hard for him to walk, but it was still better to have someone home to return to. Besides, he insisted on still serving the customers, so YN had an opportunity to sleep in her own bed for a few hours before a new portion of cut meat was delivered.

That's what she thought about standing in the main square in a crowd of children—how much meat she needed to cut before her shift. Grandpa was also here; some man had to hold him up so he wouldn't fall from being on his legs for too long, but he could at least enjoy the fresh air, which YN was grateful about.

The reaping was going quickly; the girl named was from the academy, so they didn't have to go through all that volunteering. YN didn't know her personally, but she saw her a couple of times; she was good with knives. As for the boys, it didn't go as smoothly—some poor eleven-year-old's name was called out, and he burst out crying on the spot.

''I volunteer!'' the voice boomed through the street, and YN turned with everyone to see who it was, although, in her head, she knew the answer.

Cato. He walked to the stage calmly, his legs conquering the steps in no time. He looked determined and happy, but YN knew better—that's what they taught them to present. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. Killers. She hears distant cries from the crowd behind her—it's probably Miss Hadley. YN clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together until her head rings. It isn't the time for her to break.

-

Cato can't bear to watch his mother's puffy face as she clenches her arms around him, whispering something like a prayer into his chest. His father is silent, a lonely tear escaping his eye as he holds Cato's youngest brother closer. The twins are also here; both of them are at the academy, so they have a faint idea of what he is doing. They tell him he will win because of how big he is, and that will be very easy. Cato smiles at them reassuringly—if only it were that easy.

''Dad,'' he nods in the direction of his crying mother.

''Come on, darling, you will upset him before the games,'' his father tells her, carefully pulling her way and placing a hand on Cato's shoulder. ''Stay strong, my boy. We will all be rooting for you every second you are in that arena; don't forget that.''

''Thank you, dad. Boys,'' he watches as twins show each other away, trying to get to bed first. He hugs them both; he has two hands for a reason. ''Behave and don't bother mom too much, or I'll have to kick your ass once I get back,'' he whispers into their heads.

The youngest one waves goodbye, blowing him a kiss. Cato smiles, watching his family leave the room. He wants to remember this moment forever, to put it in his pocket, and to never let it go. He knows why he is doing this—for them to have a better chance at life, for his father to finally have a day off, and for his mom to have new pots she secretly gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking.

''Hadley. Seven minutes.'' The peacekeeper announces, opening the door once more, even though Cato doesn't expect anyone else. Well, he hoped she would come—he really wanted her to—but he believed she never would. YN is not the type. Still, she is here. Closing the door behind her, in a simple blue jumpsuit and a nice scarf around her head.

''Hi,'' she nods. ''I came to say goodbye.''

Cato's heart skips a beat—those words hit harder than seeing himself on the big screens, with a tribute written under them. Soon, he may be dead; she will watch him on her small TV in the living room.

YN speaks quickly, almost in a rush. ''I know we don't speak anymore, but I know how you fight—you are capable of winning more than everyone else out there. Please, just don't think too much about what you are doing; just do it, okay?''

''Yeah, I'll try.'' He finds it weird that she doesn't want him to think, but Cato doesn't question why—she does know him better than anyone, having been training for a lot of years side by side.

''You have to return; your family needs you.''

''Don't worry too much about them; we already got the money for my volunteering from the mayor. They will be fine; dad can still work, and twins could help out. You have enough on your shoulders as it is. How is Grandpa Marc?''

''Better. He can't move like he used to and still needs help with walking and eating, but other than that, it's good. Although he is devastated that I didn't let him handle the meat, you should've seen how he tried to sneak a few knives at night.''

Cato's lips turn into a smile. ''That does sound like him.''

''Oh, I almost forgot. Here,'' YN rumbles in her pockets before taking a few pieces of candy out. ''We thought you should have a few.''

''You are kidding me? Lucky-talkies? I haven't had one in ages!''

YN laughs at his excitement, carefully placing the sweets in his hand. ''I know. They are as hard as they used to be; don't chip your tooth; it'll look bad at the promotion.''

Cato chuckles, pocketing the candy before his mentors have a chance to take it away. ''Thanks, YN. For everything.''

''I'll give you as much as you want if you don't die in there. Just try to stay alive, okay?''

''Easier said than done. But I'll try.''

YN smiles. Their time is up. The peacekeeper opens the door for her, his gun tangling dangerously around his neck. She doesn't turn around as she exits; her walk is steady. Cato thinks that he caught her shoulders shaking, but it could be just a twist of his tired brain.

-

The days after that are agony. YN doesn't know if it was her tiredness that finally caught her in a narrow corner or the grim reality of her life—it was definitely both. Even her favourite silent friend didn't cheer her up like it used to—the sun shone almost violently, burning her skin and leaving her body dizzy. The rotten cycle was now worsened by the non-stopping playing of what seemed to be a thousand screens, with stomach-curling screams echoing from time to time. They were everywhere—at the shop and their small flat above it, on the main square she passed each day, and, what was worse, they were at the factory, where she couldn't pretend to watch even for a second.

The work she does is heavy—carving the stones on the machinery bigger than her; her muscles were constantly aching, begging for a break. The suit she wore was too tight and too hot, and the annoying voice of the announcer blared through the speakers, stealing the air in her lungs. YN wanted nothing but to make it stop—for the world to go silent and still, even if just for a moment. But wonders didn't happen with people like her, so she continued to work, pushing herself through her gritted teeth.

''Welcome, welcome to what seems to be the last day in this beautiful arena!'' The blue-haired man spoke, his accent making YN's head hurt even more. ''To remind our dear viewers all across the Panem, here is a small recap from my colleague and sometimes friend, Claudius.''

''Thank you, Caesar. We are left with only three tributes on day eighteen—the first, of course, being Cato from District 2. His strategy has proved efficient so far; no doubt, he is one of the best contestants we've seen in a long time. And then, much to my surprise, a pair of tributes from District 12 are still in the games—their love story truly captivated the audience. Let's see what this day, or should we say night, brings us today and who will have the odds in their favour in the end.''

YN doesn't react to their comments; it feels wrong to compare herself to the kids out there, being selfish enough to think she deserves a break. She should be counting her lucky stars; it isn't her there, going through the bodies of the competitors one by one. Cato received body armour from the sponsors; that was good. He also lost his district partner; YN remembers her now; she was in his ''new'' friend group. She feels sorry for the girl; her death was awful, and her screaming Cato's name will forever be engraved in YN's memory.

''Aha, here he is! Our gladiator from District 2—he is running from—what's that?—wolves! Look at that speed—he surely is a good runner!''

YN turns her attention to the giant screen—surely enough, Cato is running from some monstrous creatures. He is bloodied; his skin is covered in bruises. YN prays it all will stop soon and he will get home safe. He doesn't even flinch when the arrow shot by twelve hits his chest; he just keeps running towards the Cornucopia.

''Please,'' YN whispers. He can't die, not when he has survived for so long.

''Look at them—all of the tributes managed to get on the Cornucopia just in time! Oh, here is a clever move from Cato's side: having Peeta in a headlock is a classic move. Now, he is sort of a ''human shield''. Brilliant!''

"Go on, shoot.'' Cato's voice booms through the speakers, sending shivers down YN's back. She missed hearing his voice, but it didn't even sound like him anymore. Like a stranger talking from the inside of what looked like her friend. '' And we both go down, and you win. Go on. I'm dead, anyway! I always was, right? I didn't know that until now. Isn't that what they want, huh?''

What the fuck was he doing? YN's mind raced—why won't he just kill him and get it over with? She doesn't notice how her hands begin to shake and how everyone else in the room seems to be eyeing her.

''No! I can still do this. I can still do this. One more kill. It's the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters."

''Kill him! For fuck's sake, just kill him!'' YN stands up, her nerves getting the best of her. Her voice echoes—she didn't mean to say it out loud.

''No talking!'' The peacekeeper in front of her shouts, his hand steady on the gun.

YN turns to face him slowly. Who was he to tell her to shut up when it was her friend who was dying right before her eyes? She feels her hands clench into fists; she will be able to take him down in a fight, maybe even kill him. YN was willing to try, at least.

''She won't talk no more,'' one of the older men in the group mutters, his voice bitter. ''Sit down, child.''

YN wants to argue, wants to scream or run until the bullet catches up to her, but she doesn't. What use would her dead body be to her grandpa? So she sits down, biting her cheek until her mouth fills with a familiar iron taste. Everything she wants to say, she tastes in her throat instead.

''Wait, can we zoom in on here?'' One of the announcers asks. ''Here, yes, what exactly are they staring at? It fell from Cato's pocket, right?''

'''Well, Claudius, it looks like a candy wrap to me. The real question is: why does Cato have one in the first place? He didn't strike me as a big sweets fan. ''

''Well, whatever it is, it seems to have changed his mind—look at how masterfully he throws Peeta down, like a feather! Oh, and now he is lurching for the girl on fire!''

A loud snap is heard through the speakers, and the girl falls, lifeless. YN covers her face with her hands, the dirt from them leaving a mark on her sweaty face. A choir of relieved exhales rings through the room.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our 75th victor!''

- 

It's hard, the first thing Cato realizes. Being here, breathing in the air that feels like spikes inside his lungs—everything was supposed to be easy, but it's so far from that. They have a nice house now; it has a room for each of his brothers, and even twins don't have to share anymore. His dad doesn't work; it's not fitting for victor's family to do so, so he takes up gardening instead. If a few years ago Cato heard that his father would ramble about how badly roses had grown on this soil, he would've checked himself into a mental asylum.

He isn't very loved in the Capitol, but his mentors said it was for the best. Cato believes them, but it stings a little. He wanted glory but got disgusted instead. It was not a fair trade, but at least his debt is paid, as is his brothers'. Money could buy a lot of things, just like he predicted, but it couldn't buy him peace. Cato has nothing ahead of him; he can't study like his peers do, can't work, can't live, and pretend it didn't happen. It very much did—when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the blood on his hands.

That's why he is here instead of Victor's village, eating ice cream on the empty main square in the warm evening. It's funny to think how he wanted to try it, collecting the money his father let him have for almost a year before ordering his first chocolate scoop. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten; now, it tasted just like every other one.

He hears the nearing footsteps—the people are returning from the day shift in the factories. Cato nods to a few of them—old neighbours, parents of classmates, or dad's friends. The men are all different—short and tall, ginger, blond and brunette—but they all bear the same expression that Capitoleers called ''a district 2 glare'' once. Cato used to get angry when he heard it, but now his face is no different—the word is a heavy thing to endure.

His eyes drift to the only person looking up and not on the road ahead—of course, it's YN. She thinks about something only she and the sun know, her steps mirroring those of the people ahead. One of the men notices him watching; he gently shoves her shoulder, whispering something in her ear before pointing in the direction of his seat. Suddenly, Cato wants to hide the ice cream in his hand and run away, but he doesn't.

''Enjoying your victory, Mister Hadley?'' Her voice is loud and filled with teasing, and a few men snicker at them.

Cato isn't angry; he deserves it, quite frankly. ''Always was known for the sweet tooth,'' he shrugs. ''As a matter of fact, are you free any time soon?'' He asks when the crowd is far enough away.

YN raises an eyebrow at him. ''Why is that? You know I work.''

''I was hoping you and your grandpa could come by sometime. Mom is awfully lonely, and the boys would love to see you, too.''

She nods. ''I am free on Sunday, but Grandpa is still a little shy about eating in front of people.''

''I'll ask mom to cook a soup then—it's better?'' He would cook the damn soup himself if it meant seeing her for longer than five minutes. If it meant not being alone in that house, that reeked of the arena.

''Yes, I think we can do that. What about 12? We could be a little late with all that walking.''

''Thank you; it's perfect.''

YN smiles at him. For the first time since he won, someone smiled at him. Cato smiles back, although he is sure it comes out more as a grin. YN doesn't notice or pretends to do so.

- 

''Oh, come in! Janus, come right down; the guests are here!''

YN and her grandpa are greeted with Miss Hadley's voice, her warm hands wrapping first around her, and then the older man. YN smiles; she missed just sitting down for a meal without having to worry about how much money she was going to need for the next one. The boys have grown. They shout, each trying to be the first to show her their own rooms and the cool things they have. YN tries not to get lost in the maze of toys, balls, books, and a thousand other different things, while Grandpa talks with Mr. Janus.

When the boys start to embark on what feels like a fifth circle around the house, Miss Hadley puts an end to it. ''That's enough! YN, darling, come sit here—what would you like to eat?''

The table is full of different things. There are so many that they could eat for a few weeks and be full. YN doesn't think she saw that many vegetables and fruits in her life. She asks for what everyone is having and is happy to have her plate full. Grandpa also seems to be enjoying himself; he insists on wearing his best shirt for the occasion and now listens attentively to what the twins have to say. They make a good team, YN thinks—twins finally found free ears that are not yet tired of them, and there is nothing that Grandpa loves more than a good story.

When the dinner is over, YN speaks, talking to Miss Hadley beside her. ''Thank you for the invitation; your house is just lovely.''

''Cato made us clean every corner of it before you came—I didn't even have time to play outside!'' The youngest boy whines, pouting slightly.

YN chuckles as she watches colour gather at Cato's ears, his eyes glued to the dish in front of him. ''Well, it was definitely worth it—I had the most marvelous time with you here. And the food was delicious! But I am afraid we have to go; Grandpa should walk when it's still light outside.''

''We will take you home,'' Cato announces, nodding to the twins to put on their shoes. They do so happily, grabbing them and their jackets before Grandpa has a chance to stand up and stick to his side like glue.

The evening is pleasant; the wind is quite chilly, but Cato doesn't mind. The only sound on the street is twins arguing over who will help Grandpa Marc with his cane for the next two minutes.

''Thank you for coming,'' he says, looking at the woman walking beside him.

''Of course. We had a good time, - I hope you did too. How's life been? We haven't talked in a while.''

''Good,'' Cato lies. ''And yours?''

''Better. Since your dad quit, I got the day shift; it pays better, and I can finally get rid of those horrible dark circles.''

Cato nods. ''I've been thinking a lot about our past these days, especially our childhood. It feels like a lifetime ago.''

''Things change,'' YN shrugs. ''We've grown and become different people since then. I would've never imagined working at the factory, but here I am. And you win the games—that was your dream.''

''Don't you miss it? How easy were things back then?''

YN smiles. ''They never were easy, I think; we just couldn't understand them properly. Besides, not much changed, if you think about it.''

''Maybe not for you.''

''Why?'' YN turns to look at him.

Cato swallows. ''YN, they made me different. The games, all those kills—they changed me.''

''You did what you had to survive. It doesn't matter now that you are here.''

''You think I don't notice how people tiptoe around me now? How can Mom stand to look at me for more than a minute? How do boys try to avoid me at all costs? And dad—he doesn't even speak to me! ''

YN is silent. Cato curses in his mind—he shouldn't have said that. He takes a deep breath. ''I'm sorry. It just feels weird. It's like I don't have a home to return to and can't get into a new one. Just hanging there, mid-air.''

''When Grandpa was in the hospital, that's how it felt. I was too young to be alone, but there was no choice but to watch as everything I once loved fell into ruins. I was supposed to be going to movies, partying, and sneaking out, not juggling the bills from medication and the shop. But life decided otherwise. So, I built my own home within myself—one that nothing could tear down or take away.''

''I don't think there is anything left to build on. I'm not like you; everything anyone sees when they look at me is a monster .''

''I don't.'' YN stops. ''I see the boy who brought me a pretty big book with pictures so I could give the change correctly; I see a man who volunteered for his family to have a chance at a better life. I see you, real you, not the role mentors or Capitol made you play. Just Cato.''

''Can I hug you?'' His voice is barely above a whisper.

YN doesn't answer - she just takes a step closer into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

''I'm sorry; I am so sorry for everything I've done," Cato mutters, his hands trembling as he holds onto YN tightly. ''I should've said it sooner. ''

''It doesn't matter now. We survived this; we are still here, you and I.''

Cato nods; his tears mix with hers, pooling in patches on his shirt. They are different—children who were forced to grow up too early in a world that wasn't for them. ''I think I never lost it—my home. It was always here, with you, on this street. Isn't it funny? All those years of searching, only to return here, where we truly belong?''

''The butcher's, you mean? If you wanted more candy, you could've just asked,'' YN smiles, whipping away her red eyes.

-

''Fucking finally,'' an aged voice mutters from behind the corner.

''Grandpa Marc!'' the twins turn to him, surprised.

The old man just smiles, his wrinkled face appearing younger with joy. ''Don't tell YN I said that. She'll never let me live it down."

The twins giggle, their happy laughter echoing on the street. A few moments later, Grandpa Marc joins in, his breathy laugh adding to the chorus. It's not the first time the street leading to the butcher's was woken up by sounds of joy, and he hoped it wouldn't be the last.

[neytirisheaven]

THE HUNGER GAMES MASTERLIST ் ༘

[ ↷ m. masterlist ]

[ ❏   legend   , ]

✿   fluff     !    ☁︎   angst    !    ★   smut     !

♥︎   personal favorite     !    ✓   complete     !

ᝰ   currently writing     !

❛ finnick odair ❜

𓄼 oneshots 𓄹

ᝰ  |  only love can hurt like this:

( only love can hurt like this,   paloma faith )

☁︎

IN WHICH seeing finnick with annie every second of every day hurts more than all of the pain you felt in the arena combined, and you wonder, maybe this is love

ᝰ  |  how could you be so reckless?:

( reckless,   madison beer )

☁︎

IN WHICH finnick only ever spoke to you to play with your heart, and even johanna's tired of his recklessness

𓄼 mini-fics 𓄹

tba

❛ cato hadley ❜

𓄼 oneshots 𓄹

ᝰ  |  maybe this time i'm better alone:

( pity ya,   denise julia )

☁︎

IN WHICH you know that cato and clove have feelings for each other, but you've made the mistake of getting your hopes up and convincing yourself into thinking that maybe you have a chance

ᝰ  |  can you make it last forever?:

( see you again,   tyler, the creator & kali uchis )

☁︎✿

IN WHICH you and cato volunteered for the 74th annual hunger games knowing one of you or both of you wouldn't make it

𓄼 mini-fics 𓄹

tba

[vampirehizzies]

something gave you the nerve to touch my hand by enobariasdistrict2/enobarias on ao3 | clato | modern au | childhood best friends | word count: 12k

"You rambled to your mom for half an hour, while heavily medicated, about how much you wanted the crazy girl that fractured three of your carpal bones to like you." She distinctly remembers Cato's mother releasing this delightfully sensitive information to her when she'd first come over to his house for a hangout, and just how red his indignant embarrassment had left him. "Meanwhile I thought you were a dick and had no regrets until the principal forced us both to apologize." "Like I said. Immediate best friends," he quips in response, unfortunately sending Clove into fits of laughter in the way that only he knew how - a skill he had perfected with experience and repeated stubborn attempts to coax joy out of her despite her sullen resistance.

(or: a childhood best friends to lovers modern au, complete self indulgent fluff).

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 8

Summary: The games begin

A/n:Long time no see! I guess this is considered a slow burn since I haven't really given much Cato content yet lol, but it's planned! If you want to listen to something while reading I reccomend the civil wars, and definetely their song with Taylor Swift lol

Pt.7Pt.6Pt.5 Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

____________________________________

Chapter 8: The Arena Pt. 1

You couldn’t eat. As if that was new. 

The table in front of you was decorated in an arrangement of multicolored foods, all in the shape of a big 10. The dining room was silent, even Pradain was drowned out by the silence and his whiskey. Dolly and Ramsey looked tense, somber even. Buckley of course was attempting to eat what he could, but even he struggled to keep it down. 

“Thank you.” It was a shock for you to speak first. Dolly looked confused for a second before her expression warmed. 

“Now don’t go thanking us for anything.” She reached for a table cloth and drink, as if to hide the fact she needed to wipe her forming tears. 

In approximately one hour you’d be headed to the slaughterhouse. Waiting to die of starvation, disease, or lord forbid it- murder. You’d only hope Buckely would make it out alive or meet a peaceful end. 

Ramsey inhaled, setting his fork on the table. “You two really are something’ special. ‘S been an honor to work with the two of ya.” He managed to croak out, keeping his stoic demeanor even though it warbled. 

Pradain let out a fit of laughter before it turned to chortled sobbing, Sashay was quick to comfort him. 

How did the Capitol expect teams to rejoice before sending their tributes to their death? It was sick. 

“I consulted a psychic medium.” Sashay piped up, using her fork to scoop up a block of cheese. “He told me that we’ve got a shot of winning. Something about a leaf with speckled dots of white.” 

“A Gragale?” Pradain spoke, sniffling his nose in a handkerchief. “Those aren’t edible.” 

The meal passed on with some somber conversation looking back at what your time at the Capitol had been like. A few tips and advice were thrown, a prayer or five may have been said, eventually you drowned it all out, refusing to look at the boy with cow like eyes. 

It was clear you weren’t the only one having internal conflict as he wasn’t his usual bubbly self. Painful, disheartening, heart wrenching, it was. 

30 minutes. 

20 minutes. 

10 minutes. 

When the Peacekeepers arrived they informed the two of you about choosing someone to send you off. Pradain and Sashay stepped off to the side after saying their final farewells to the both of you, leaving Ramsey and Dolly on the sidelines, waiting for who would speak first. 

“Dolly?” His voice was hoarse despite drinking liquids the whole time at the table. Buckley looked around awkwardly. For once it felt like the two of you were strangers again. You didn’t like it. 

Dolly instantly stepped toward you, giving you a hug that could have squeezed your organs out. “Go get em’ cowgirl.” She kissed your cheeks and let go, her lashes soaked with tears as she went over to the tall boy to comfort him. 

You looked at Ramsey and he immediately knew. Stepping close he placed a hand on your shoulder squeezing it as he pat you on the back with his other hand. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The Peacekeepers did a thorough search, both on you and Buckley, and your mentors. Something about stabbing attempts back in the 50th games. Your pulse was fast, eyes glued open as you tried to not cry. You couldn’t. Not now. Not now. Not now. 

The trip was silent, the peacekeepers informing the group about what would take place once on the transportation craft to the arena. Occasionally your sad eyes would meet Buckley’s clashing momentarily before disappearing. 

Dolly and Ramsey were set off to the side while the two of you were ushered into the craft, sat toward the end. 

Everyone else had already been seated for the most part, 11 and 12 behind you as they filled in. Cato had a Capitol worker stabbing his arm with something, it looked painful, but he didn’t flinch. 

He was what scared you the most. Something about him wasn’t right. You needed to steer clear of him, or get rid of him. 

“Arm.” They’d gotten to you quick. Reluctantly sticking your arm out you waited for the stinging of the needle. It pinched, and you felt a weird chill down your spine. What the hell had they put into you? Surely it couldn’t be some weird drug or enhancement right? 

Your question was answered when the girl from 12 asked. A tracker. Of course they’d track you. At least now you knew how they kept track of the deaths and tributes. 

If you made it out, your prayers would be replaced with asking for the downfall of Coriolanus Snow. 

Looking to the left you unintentionally greeted the jolly blonde, his void expression perked into a small grin, barely noticeable but there. Waving his head subtly he turned to look in front of him, leaving you with a squint on your face. He was also a threat. Albeit not as much as Cato. Either way, you had to profile everyone now. There could be a diamond in the rough, someone here who could pounce on you if not accounted for. 

You’ve seen how that lumberjack girl mangled those tributes. 

“We’re landing I think.” You heard a girl comfort her fellow tribute. 

As if your stomach couldn’t knot up more. Sure enough a sound of air decompressing echoed as the hinge of the craft lowered, revealing the troop of peacekeepers ready to escort everyone to the arena. The peacekeepers herded you all into lines. Cato’s humongous form hovered over everyone’s and it really set in. The only one challenging his dominance was the guy from 11, but even then he seemed like he had morals unlike the blonde in front of the craft. 

“Goodluck.” Buckley reeled you out of your thoughts, his face forward and hands at his side. 

Forcing a smile that looked like you were about to cry, you reciprocate the sentiment. “Goodluck.” 

This was it, the last moments of peace you’d get for a while. Your peacekeeper didn’t seem to know their own strength since their hand bruised your arm. Another one was already waiting in the room, a large tube at the center and Ramsey standing at the side of it. 

“Three minutes.” The peacekeeper let go, hurdling you to Ramsey who caught you in his arms. 

“Hey it’s ok. It’s ok.” The facade had broken. You heaved like an asthmatic in a desert, your face twisted like a sun dried tomato as you hiccuped the tears out of your eyes. 

He squeezed you, whispering reassurance to your soul. “Come on (Y/n), come on girl, gotta be tough. You’re gonna make it out. You’re gonna beat this bitch of a game.”  His shirt got flooded by your tears, the agony left on him as a remnant of who you were. 

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I want to go home! Please! Please!” You clawed at his shirt feeling yourself revert to a toddler for a moment. All you wanted was to be home with Amaranto and your father, huddled together at the dinner table, debriefing about each other’s days before heading to the yard to check on the stray cats that lived nearby. Hell, you’d rather be in the butchery helping out with the dirty pans and tins. 

Ramsey looked just as distraught, face faltering. He caught you and rubbed your back, “(y/n), listen to me. You need to remember what we went over, protect yourself and if god wills it Buckley. Don’t make new enemies, save your ass, woman up, and win. I’ll see you in the Victor’s Village ok? You’ve got this sweetie, You’re from goddamned district 10.” He held your face in his rough hands, eyes intense but caring, like a father grounding his daughter back to reality. 

All you did was nod. Nod and wipe the tears off your face. He was right. Right? 

Right. 

“Okay. Okay.” You placed your hands over his and he pulled you into a hug before the Peacekeepers yanked you to the tube. 

“Focus! Lasso! Lasso!” He reminded you before his voice got muffled. The peacekeepers ushered him out, leaving you scared and alone in the tube. 

Your breath fogged up the tube, you hadn’t realized how fast you were breathing. The dusty brown windbreaker didn’t help, it only pooled your sweat, making it uncomfortable. The boots were new, but at what cost? They’d only be a bother in the long run until you could break them in. If you even lived long enough to do so. You cursed the issued clothes you’d receive, whoever designed it decided rustic colors would do you good. You only hoped you could blend into the arena. 

Oh shit! The arena. You’d been preoccupied with dying that you didn’t even consider what the terrain was like. Judging by what they gave you it couldn't be water based. At least you hoped not. You’d be dead in an instant. 

Desert? 

Forest?

Snowy Tundra? 

Coliseum? 

The possibilities were endless. 

As the tube reeled you upwards toward the arena, your stomach fought to keep its contents inside. The sky looked blue, a gloomy blue. Bad sign. You were used to the sunny orange landscapes of 10. Your hands shook as they reached out to the glass tube, catching your footing as you began to look around. 

Green everywhere, trees taller than the mountains, birds flying over and other scared tributes. It reminded you of the time your school had a dance. It was middle school and everyone had just discovered puberty. Scared boys staring at petrified girls, no one dancing, peacekeepers at the edge bored and uninterested. But that was a dance. This was punishment for something you didn’t do. 

Heaving you turned around to face the center. The tubes slowly lowered as you searched the circle for Buckley. He was across from you, already having found you. He looked just as frantic. Aside from you was a girl from 10 and 5. The careers were honed in on the middle of the arena, bloodthirst in their faces. They hardly looked scared. 

A cannon began to sound, causing some of the tributes to jump. From your distance you could see some of the supplies. Mostly weapons, some food, gear, and more weapons. Ramsey had specifically warned the two of you multiple times to not head toward the middle. He said it was a death wish. 

Eventually a voice started counting down, and you practically threw up. Your hands came to cover your mouth. Surely your eyes were popping out of your face. Breathing in you tried to focus on the voice, scanning the area you made a plan. Run. You could always come back, milk your accent, get sponsors. You’d be fine as long as you made it out. 

It didn’t process in your mind yet that people had started running. It wasn’t until you saw Cato slit someone’s throat that you realized the games had started. Frozen in place you screamed, trying to move away. Tributes ran, some stayed to swipe weapons- a chance to survive. Somehow in the span of three seconds the careers had secured their base. It all happened so fast, your mind hurt trying to register everything. Even the screams of agony were flushed out. 

“(Y/n)!” Snapping out of your trance you stepped back, one foot over the other, turning to run away. Looking back you saw it was Buckley who called your name, or moreso scolded you for standing there like a dumbass. He had a pack in his hands, inches away from the blood bath. You managed to catch him leave, run off to the opposite side of the arena. 

A spear flung clumsily to you, missing you by a good 10 inches. Expecting to see Marvel, you were surprised it was some scrawny kid. Pleading for your feet to carry you further, you sprinted into the brush, the grass beneath you crushing, picking up mud as you ran away. You wouldn’t stop, not until you were sure you were safe, alone for miles. 

Five minutes in and already half of the kids you came in with were dead, Buckley was gone, and you had nothing. Needless to say the odds were looking grim.

____________________________________

Tags: @randomgurl2326

[cloverskentwells]

"Never thought you'd get on your knees for anyone," Clove snarks at him with an upbeat, teasing lilt in her voice, carefully disguising how her pulse spasms as she feels his long fingers brushing her ankle before working at the laces of her boots with confident, dexterous hands.

That sense of humor he has, which at first came as a shock to her, makes an appearance. Her district partner grins up at her, holding her foot aloft and patting the top of her boot with his left palm. His large hand slides up until it is wrapped around her shin - it comes as no surprise that it completely circles around her leg, but Clove flushes scarlet anyways - and squeezes in warning, even as he jokes with her. "Maybe only for you." Those words, and the deep cadence of his voice, conjure unspeakable images to her mind.

All she'd wanted to do was focus on packing up their remaining supplies and prepare for the day of hunting ahead of them, and he had the nerve to do this. Maybe the rule change had made him more forward, or her more tolerant. Nonetheless, Clove had been too stunned to say anything when he'd pointed out her laces were untied, and then reached her in smooth, confident strides to tie them himself, periodically making eye contact with her and forcing her to tear her gaze away from him, focus on anything else but the fact that his short blonde hair looked so easily grabbable from this distance, and how gentle his touch was.

Now, as he rises until he is once again at his full height, his hand never seems to want to leave her, maintaining contact with her body the entire time. Gliding up the back of her leg, the side of her thigh, then finding a position on her waist, an area that signifies a danger zone for him and the risk of having his hand cut off. She makes no move to do so, her lips twitching upward in a pleased smile she can't seem to control, practically confirming to her ever observant district partner that the contact wasn't unwanted.

The smug expression on his face tells Clove that he recognizes this all too well.

He tightens his grip with a pressure that is paradoxically gentle, so unlike his brutish nature. "Ready to go, Clove?" Damn him for sounding so casual, so unaffected, when her own thoughts are racing in a swirl of chaos, when he is so close to her, just inches away, a remarkably convenient distance for her to - kill him. Yes, that would be more appropriate than whatever else she was thinking.

Clove brushes past him roughly, not bothering to answer him, with the hopes that if she kept him out of sight, her erratic heartbeat would calm and her hands would stop twitching eagerly. Even so, her best efforts can't seem to remove the image of him on his knees from her mind.

[twobraincellkentwell]

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

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

[ladymirdan]

Hah! I actually managed to write and post stories two days in a row. Go me!

Todays prompt was “BDSM”

I still got Chaplain brainrot but this time Sicarius got some action:

[ervotica]

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

pairing: cato hadley x fem!reader

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

hunger games masterlist

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

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

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

"What do you think you're doing?"

He hums noncommittally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cato! Cato!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever: Year 0 (1/2)

I'm starting to think I'm stuck in a dream, cause we're young and we don't know better.

Summary: Cato comes home from winning the 74th Hunger Games, and Luna has to adapt to how such a thing changes not only their once-peaceful life, but Cato himself. WC: 6.5k words. Warnings: Canon divengence - Cato wins the 74th Hunger Games. Tension. Pregnancy. Luna is autistic, and we deal with quite a bit of autistic overstimulation here. A little bit of angst because of that.

Luna squirmed on her spot in the crowd, rubbing the palm of her hand uncomfortably as she tried not to flinch at the people getting too close time and time again.

They had not notion of personal space, honestly.

Everyone was too excited to be quiet or not push themselves into a good spot to see the train arriving – but if they wanted to be so close, why not just get down from the tall balcony? Then she wouldn’t have to be squirming away from elbows and shoulders.

She was meant to wait up there.

The cameras wanted a big scene for the moment Cato saw her again – like a long lost love coming back to life. Luna just wanted to go home.

The earplugs did the job for the sounds. While the people in the balcony were pushers, they weren’t screamers like the ones behind the barrier, which was at least nice.

Was it always going to be like that? So loud and full of attention?

Lyme seemed to live a peaceful life, and people left her be – though everyone knew who she was. Brutus and Enobaria were fawned over a bit, to be fair.

She hadn’t seen Wade since he won, of course, so she had no measure for a recent victor.

“There comes the train,” the reporter at the station announced. “Let’s roll the cameras.”

The officials and adjacent voices quieted down and straightened up, giving her some space and Luna tried to keep her back straight and her face from showing discomfort – he’d asked for her not to cry very firmly before he left and there were no cameras there.

Cato wouldn’t be happy if she was not only seen but filmed by cameras meant to air them to the whole nation acting like a child being scolded just because she disliked the noise.

Besides, he was finally coming home.

The train moved slowly into the station and she squeezed the cool metal railing of the balcony, wishing time to move faster.

The doors opened, and it was like a brand new set of perfect lungs were put inside her body, and inflated with the cleanest air.

It was one thing to see him on TV, to hear that he was alright, but seeing was completely different.

Her shoulders lightened like the weight of the world had left them.

He was alive.

No, not only alive. He was alive, with both legs and both arms, and all ten fingers if she could count, and not a single hair of his head was missing from where she could see him.

Cato was well. He was alive and safe.

Her throat tightened as he shook hands with the reporter and, grinning, always so charming, and she blinked fast, trying to keep herself steady.

Luna’s hands squeezed the railing more, waiting for him.

She wasn’t going to cry. There was makeup on her face, everyone was looking at her and he had asked her not to cry. His wife would not be seen crying.

She blinked her wet eyes as he shook hands with the mayor, a blurry mess away just a few steps from the train as Brutus and Enobaria got their well deserved congratulations and minutes of boosting.

Someone put a hand on her back and she jumped away, confused and uncomfortable, but a woman just grinned up at her.

“Go on,” she coached her, her tone overly syrupy. “It’s your turn now.”

Luna was glad Lyme had stopped them from making her wear heels, or else she would have tripped completely and made a fool of herself as she walked down the 16 steps from the balcony to the lower station, with not only lights pointed at her but cameras filming and photographing her right there.

Cato was smiling so largely she couldn’t keep herself from tearing up more when he came to her, and in a second his arms were around her body and she was tucked into his chest, hiding from all of them and wetting his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he rubbed her back. “I’m home. I told you I would be home.”

She felt her stomach tightening as she held a sob.

Of course he did! But everyone who went into the games said they would be home, and yet only one person out of 24 came back.

“I know,” she hissed, squeezing him, her voice completely gone.

Cato pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Come on, they want to see us,” he coached her softly. “Won’t you let me look at you? I haven’t seen you weeks.”

The second phrase convinced her more than the first.

He was right.

She’d been watching him in her living room since he left, but he was just as far away from her as she was from him.

Luna looked up, trying to blink her eyes dry as the cool tears fell down her cheeks, looking up at him.

"There’s my girl,” he touched her face, leaning in and giving her lips a kiss.

It was a performative kiss, she knew. For the cameras and the people. Still, it was quite a comfort for a brief second, when he his lips touched hers and she could feel him right there again.

Until it didn’t quite match what she remembered.

Cato’s lips were… harder? Well, not harder but… it was hard to describe it. Cato’s lips were always thin, and soft but with some bits of bitten skin. Everything of that was gone. The skin was soft, yes, but the flesh was… off.

Luna pulled back, bewildered, and he was smiling when he rested his forehead on hers, and she couldn’t even the way her hands travelled up to his face.

She knew his face, she had spent months sculpting his face, watching him sleep, studying him as a subject and in her bed. She had seen him for at least a year closely, and she knew him.

They had changed him.

His lips were bigger now. Slightly, just a bit really, but enough.

And when she ran her thumbs over his jaw, they didn’t find the usual path – the asymmetry she’d worked so hard into carving into marble. When her eyes looked at his skin, it was clean and perfectly white. There wasn’t a single remain of the freckles she’s spent her early mornings counting.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

Did he know?

Was it make up?

But it didn’t feel like make up when she ran her fingers over his skin.

Cato’s hand came to her wrist, cupping hers with a firm look in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he repeated.

She looked down on his lips, but she was caught on his nose.

His nose, with the slight widened bridge right between his eyes, with that beautiful crook… it wasn’t there. None of what she remembered was there.

Cato squeezed her hand, lowering his head, chasing her eyes with his as he took her hand and kissed her palm.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice very firm.

Well, that one was the same.

She let him push her hands down – after kisses to both her palms – and guide her right to her spot down to the grinning reporter. It shocked her even more for a second – as minor as it was – that his hands were perfectly smooth. The callused bits of his palms, from the weights and the weapons, weren’t there, it was like touching her mother’s skin – completely untouched by anything that would hurt it.

“Luna,” the man greeted, too familiar with her name, as if he had said it hundreds of times.

Cato slipped a hand to her back and she straightened herself up, ready to blink her tears away, but there weren’t any, she was just shocked.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” the man told her, offering a hand to shake.

She froze for a moment.

Again?

They’d never seen one another.

Lyme didn’t say she had to talk to people.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

He pushed the microphone closer to her face, and she would have flinched away if Cato wasn’t holding her right in place.

“I’m sure you’re very happy to see Cato back,” the reporter nudged. “I’m sure you got so many things to share with him, news from when he was away.”

She turned to Cato, lost. Wasn’t her interview before enough. What did they need her to say now?

“Yes,” she stuttered, swallowing down, feeling like a deer in headlights. “I’m… very happy to have him back.”

Luna looked at her husband again, and he was just grinning at the men.

“Well, we all know Caesar spoiled the best of the surprises,” he affirmed, her answer completely irrelevant for his next words. “But I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about now that he is back, I’m sure you are so happy to see her again.”

She glanced at the people with the cameras, quickly taking her eyes to Cato again, still shocked.

They’d changed him. Why had they changed him? He hadn’t broken his nose or his jaw, there was no need to fix them.

“I was counting the hours to come back home to her,” Cato affirmed, very firmly. “I’m glad to finally have her.”

The reporter grinned more, turning to look at her, and Luna tucked her eyes down, uncomfortable as he turned to the camera.

“Cato,” she whispered.

He grabbed her hand squeezing it.

“Not now,” he spoke between gritted teeth.

“-And we have a wonderful day before us with our favourite new victor together, Panem, so let’s go.”

He kept talking, but she paid no attention, startled when she was simply pushed away and Cato caught her in time just to take her to the big car waiting for them.

There was a parade that was going to happen tomorrow and she wouldn’t have to attend it, but Luna was not informed of anything that was going to happen after the platform. She never watched the programs with victors after the games were over. Mum always turned the TV off for days straight after the games, so they could decompress from it.

Someone practically shoved her into the seat and closed the door, stunning her back, and she turned her head quickly when Cato sat right by her side, her words loss in her throat.

He shot her a hard chilling look.

“Just wait,” he told her roughly. “Smile and wave to them.”

He was the victor, why did she have to wave with him?

But he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, and she put on her best attempt at a smile as she waved off to people who probably didn’t care for who she was as the car drove off into the justice building in a line with other government cars, probably with much more important people than she would ever be.

The crowd was endless, so much so that Luna wondered if people were moving from spot to spot to follow them or if they had travelled from different towns to be there to see him.

Still, the streets were full as they all arrived not at the justice building – where she thought they would be –but at Victor’s Village, past Lyme’s very own house and to the last of the twelve houses to the right and parked up.

Someone opened the door for Cato and then to her, but he was already being guided away to a door with the mayor, and someone pushed her back.

“You stay here,” a woman told her. “You’re had your moment, we want to capture our victor.”

Luna bit down a snap of an answer – she didn’t want her own moment. She didn’t want cameras on her face or people pushing her!

"Yes,” she mumbled, anyway, stepping back.

Cato looked into the crowd, trying to find her and meeting her eyes right before someone simply blocked her view of him – and probably his of her.

Luna circled the crowd of elites. Cato looked smaller now, thinner. Of course, it wasn’t surprising – he’d spent weeks in an arena with limited food, fighting for his life.

“-your first gift from the Capitol, your very own house at Victor’s Village,” the reporter announced to the camera, standing by his side. “Tell me, Cato-”

His hair had been cut from the time he spent in the arena, back to the usual short style. The colour looked the same – very blonde, with the tips a bit lighter.

He was still wearing the bracelet she had given him, and he had lost his tan from the usual summer sun – but she couldn’t know if it was something they did or just a reflex from the arena. It was closed, it had no sun.

From afar, he looked like himself.

And yet, when Luna looked at his face, it was like she was seeing a painting of a painting. A picture of a picture.

All faces, she learnt with her sculpting, had flaws. Luna’s right eye was slightly taller than her other eye, and so was her eyebrow. Actually, the whole left side of her face was a bit higher than her right.

Juno’s hairline was wonky. Jupiter’s lips spread less to the right than to the left. Cato’s jaw and nose were a bit crooked to the right in a way – they used to be.

No one is meant to look perfect. People were meant to have things that looked different when their faces were parted in a way.

He looked perfect, and that was horrible. Terrifying, in a way.

A woman slipped right in front of Luna to a man’s arms, and she caught sight of Lyme walking to the group to join her, breathing out in relief at the sight of a familiar face and ready to join her when she heard the sound of her name.

“With Luna, of course!” Cato exclaimed.

She turned her head to him, and the pair in front of her stepped away from their spot.

She was less spooked when he strode through the flower-covered yard, reaching out his hand to her, and she took without even thinking, feeling every pair of eyes on her.

“It’s our house,” Cato looked into her eyes.

And oh, maybe his face looked a bit different, and his freckled were gone, but those were his eyes.

She would never forget his eyes. They would never change.

Luna squeezed his fingers and he guided her right to the door of the house.

Their house.

It was huge. The door itself could walk three people in easily, the size of it was extraordinary and completely unnecessary.

“This is the moment we all love to see,” the reporter announced behind them. “Our beloved victor stepping into his house and his new role and life as one of our country’s greatest heroes.”

Cato was about to take her along when a woman came right to him, dressed and practically painted in red with her make up and hair to stop him.

“Go on and pick her up, it’s going to be very romantic!” she whispered, suddenly reaching for Luna to adjust her hair. “Who did your hair, darling, why does it look so flat?”

She flinched away.

“That won’t be-”

Necessary, she was going to say.

But she couldn’t. Cato moved down, putting his arm under her knees and hoisting her up, and she braced herself on his shoulders, looking at his face.

He looked so tired. How long had the cameras been following him? They could be recording in the train, they were probably recording him in the Capitol as well.

“Just for the cameras,” he told her, his voice very soft.

Luna didn’t fight him, just nodding a bit.

It was almost like the day they got married. He’d carried her inside her little studio.

A camera came to their side and she kept her eyes on him when the door opened slowly.

Just this and the day would be over, right?

“And three… two...” someone counted. “Go in.”

Her husband complied, holding her close to him as he stepped over the threshold of their new house, and the inside was a welcome silence for the three seconds it took people to follow them in.

It was a huge house. The living room was as tall as maybe two whole floors, and she could see a long staircase to a balcony of sorts to the second floor.

“A remarkable place indeed,” the reporter introduced as Cato set her down. “An extensive living room, twelve bedrooms, two offices, six full bathrooms and two half bathrooms, and a kitchen that can feed a battalion! And you know what our dear Victor said, this baby is going to be the first of many to join their family.”

Luna’s neck snapped to look at him, and she looked away at the sight of the camera.

The baby. They hadn’t even talked about the baby yet.

They hadn’t talked about anything at all!

Cato’s hand sneaked to her belly to rest on it, and Luna softened, covering it with his.

“Caesar told me,” he whispered. “When did you find out?”

She felt her face flushing.

It was one of her biggest grievances, having to tell Caesar Flickerman about a baby she herself wasn’t ready to address.

“A bit after the chariot ride,” she covered his hand with hers. "Mum made me get a test.”

His eyes looked down at his hand, looking both awed and lost.

He pulled his hand away suddenly, stiffening up, and she turned right to the side when he did so, finding the camera already approaching them again.

“And I’m sure the future Mrs Hadley is going to love the sight of her new kitchen,” he spoke up, approaching the two of them. “We all know you love working with your hands.”

Luna blinked, stunned. She was a sculptor, not a cook. Mum had to chase her away from the kitchen sometimes.

But a woman grabbed her hand before she could eve think of what to say, hoisting it up and holding her fingers like he was meant to guide her off, and she couldn’t even squirm away from her.

A camera remained with Cato, but another followed the two of them right away as she let herself be guided away.

The kitchen was indeed gigantic. It felt like someone had tore down the wall between her parents’ kitchen and dinning room and turned into a single room.

“As you can see,” the woman started speaking, sounding extremely excited as she tugged her into the middle of the room. “You’ll have a fridge especially for meats, as we all know how much a victor and mentor as strong as Cato needs his protein.”

The woman pointed at the first fridge, with a huge pair of doors.

“It gets to lower degrees and it is primed for the conservation of raw protein. And your main fridge-”

Luna looked around, still a bit stunned.

It was just the two of them. Yes, three in a few months, but they could easily live off of a house smaller than even her parents’. And she understood that Cato was a victor and he would have his house anyway – it was a very generous gift from the Capitol – but it unsettled her belly anyway.

“We took the liberty of filling it up already, of course,” the woman laughed, opening the doors. “With the best of everything there is, for our favourite victor.”

The woman moved a hand to her back, turning her around to the isles without even caring to look at her.

“All of the utilities are hidden to preserve the beauty of the place,” she continued, running her fingers under the marble rimming of the counters. “Here you’ll find a button to reveal the dishwasher...”

Luna was ready to bend down to look, but the woman held her arm.

“Buttons, dear.”

Her face felt hot, and reached for the buttons, a bit confused.

Finally, the dishwasher appeared – big enough to fit dishes of three meals inside it.

“The cycles are silent and especially adjusted for the capitol plates, isn’t the marvellous?” she asked.

But Luna couldn’t even open her mouth to answer.

It was weird, actually.

“And here is your sink, you have hot and cold water,” she continued explaining. “You can control the water jets and this button on the wall will start the internal processor, so do not get your pretty finger inside the hole or you might lose it!” she giggled.

Luna’s eyes widened. What?!

“The cupboards are self-cleaning,” she continued. “An internal system that gets rids of the dust particles, very recently invented and patented by the Capitol. Don’t you love the sight of sparkling clean crystal?”

She looked up.

Was it any different from normal glass?

“The oven is centre piece of the kitchen,” the woman continued, very dramatic. “But you will have the privilege of having not one, but two of them.”

Luna blinked.

“Why would I need two ovens?”

The woman turned to her, looking surprised, as if she didn’t expect her to speak.

“For so many reasons!” she laughed.

Why was she laughing?

“Oh, you are indeed so adorable,” she sighed dreamily. “This is the first one, a conventional oven, for those quick every day meals.” she continued, and the camera focused right on it.

She continued explaining without a care, over specifications that meant nothing – numbers and names Luna couldn’t find half a reason for.

The woman talked about steaming, toasting, baking… smoking?

It was a long tour for a single room, and she guessed it was… a nice room? Pretty. And it had a nice table too, so it was convenient.

“We are so excited to show you the rooms upstairs as well,” she exclaimed. “Let’s go back and join the main crew.”

Luna exhaled, relaxing. Good, they would probably focus on Cato now.

And yet, the moment the crews met again, Cato’s hand came to grab hers and squeeze them tightly.

“They have a surprise for you,” he told her.

She moved on her feet, uncomfortable.

"Is it another kitchen?” she mumbled back.

Cato snorted out a laugh, sounding shocked, and everyone turned to them right before he stiffened up again, though smiling.

That made Luna relax. Well, at least she could still make him smile in that stupid full day.

“It’s something nice,” he told her quietly, kissing her knuckles. “I know you’ll like it.”

She breathed out. Well, that was good, then.

“Now, our future married pair are set to get married in, spoilers, September,” the reporter spoke out, filling the room, and she turned right to him, wide eyed.

September?

“It’s going to be a lovely occasion, I’m certain,” he approached them. “But we decided that we would give Cato’s bride a little… engagement gift.”

She was still stunned.

They were getting married in September? When? Where?

Of course, they’d gotten married in secret before, but it was just a cultural ceremony, and Cato said the Capitol would probably want to make their wedding into a big show, but wouldn’t they at least speak to her about it first?

“This way, come with us.”

Cato tugged her along the way quietly.

“We have a couple of guest rooms downstairs for those family visits, as far from the master bedroom as possible, I assure you,” he joked, leading the crew. “And here… come here, my dearest.”

Someone pushed her, making Luna stumble up, and the reporter assistant who’d dragged her through the kitchen grabbed her hand again.

This time, though, she quickly snatched it away – though no one seemed to care. She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need to be tugged along.

“Here is probably the best gift you’ve ever received in your whole life!” his voice cracked, as if he was about to cry about her feelings.

He pushed the door open and Luna was pushed inside without a care, but the sight of the machine inside made her freeze in shock.

It was a stone cutting machine.

No, it wasn’t only a stone cutting machine, it was the best one that was out there in the market!

“We all heard of your lovely sculpting hobby, and we are all very excited to have busts and sculptures of our favourite victor to ourselves,” the reporter explained, mischievous. “And now we all know where to source it from.”

She was so frozen she didn’t even think to correct him – it wasn’t a hobby, it was her work!

Luna stepped up to the machine, hovering her hands over it. She would have to work twenty years straight to purchase anything near its quality.

She couldn’t even touch it – what if she broke it?!

“Who better to give us the most accurate works than someone who sleeps right beside him on his bed, am I right?” the reporter joked. “If you go around, you can see how we’ve also given you the best new sculpting tools money can buy.”

Luna turned to look at them, still shocked.

“Oh, don’t look at me,” he told her. “Look at your future husband, he’s the one who arranged all of it.”

She looked at Cato, shocked, and he simply smiled, walking to her.

“Surprise,” he whispered.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“You don’t have to sculpt me,” Cato teased her gently. “It’s yours. You do what you want with it.”

She squeezed his hand, genuinely excited.

It was such a nice surprise! It was much better than whatever that kitchen was.

“Now, we can go ahead and show you the bedrooms!” the man continued. “They are all made for guests now...” he exclaimed, and then giggled, obviously winking at the camera. “But with time, you are certainly going to be able to decorate them for your growing family.”

Cato tugged her along out to the corridor, and Luna tried not to deflate. She hadn’t even seen her tools yet! Or the manual for the machine.

They left and walked through the corridor, and she was still thinking back on the machine when they saw the guest rooms – all very standard, pretty much like the rooms in Lyme’s house when she stayed with her.

The man kept talking, and she just watched everything. Were they going to take much longer? They were at that for… two hours already?

“And now, we go to the top floor of the house,” the reporter explained. “Careful with the stairs. Come, Cato.”

Cato complied, taking her right with him.

Three levels. Twelve bedrooms.

Who in the world needed twelve bedrooms? Who had a family big enough to fill up twelve bedrooms and still be part of the elite?

Luna had seen those people growing up. It was very rare that someone from the higher classes had more than two kids. Even in her own circles, the biggest group of siblings she had seen were composed of five of them.

With Peacekeepers almost always being shipped to different districts with such short visits to their home and families, most people kept their families smaller. It was the lower classes that had more children, the people who mined the stones and did the manual labour – they needed all the help they could get.

“This is where the magic happens,” the reported grinned. “After your wedding, obviously. Let’s get inside.”

He entered with the cameras before Cato did, and it was good that they had gone first, so she could look around the bedroom.

It was the size of her whole little flat - with the bedroom and the bathroom. Actually, it looked even bigger.

The bed could fit maybe eight people her size. Maybe three of her with three of Cato in there. It was family sized, somehow – it had to be as big as a bedroom. Who would sleep on something so big?

“Here we have your bathroom,” he continued, moving to film the bathroom, but she didn’t follow them, still a bit shocked.

A holographic projector for the television, she’d only seen those in school.

And so many couches. Why would they need couches in their bedroom? It was a bedroom! It was made for sleep.

“Right beside it is his closet,” she heard as the crew moved, and they looked right to look at Cato, right by her side. “Completely made by your stylist, come you’re going to love it!”

Cato tugged on Luna’s hand, but she didn’t let herself be taken by him.

“It’s your closet,” she reminded him softly, the last word catching in her throat. “You should… go.”

The word ‘alone’ was unsaid, but still there. Honestly, the thought of being in a room without cameras for a minute sounded too delightful to pass.

He stared at her for a moment, wide eyed, as if he was caught in a trap.

“I’ll be here,” she assured him. “Sat down. Please.”

Just one minute, she just needed one minute.

Cato didn’t say anything, but released her hand stiffly, walking out with his shoulders so tense it looked like he was trying to pose.

Luna looked around, suddenly feeling her feet hurting and her whole body just screaming for a minute.

Maybe she could just walk out. Leave him with his interview crew, and just go.

But when she looked at the door, the people following around them were all piling outside, looking into the room with curiosity like a barrier was keeping them stuck in their place.

She swallowed down, feeling like an animal trapped into a cage, and looked at her feet before sitting down on the nearest chair, trying to make herself as small as possible, and the fabric of her dress was rough when she took it between her fingers, rubbing it as she tried to keep herself from tensing too much or getting overwhelmed.

Just this last bedroom and they would leave them be, right?

Or at least leave her be.

She wasn’t important. Cato was the star. The victor.

Luna pushed her hair behind her ears, shifting uncomfortably, looking back at the door again.

It was just a short walk to Lyme’s house, and she didn’t bother her at all when she was at her house.

Luna rubbed her wrist as she looked out the window. It was so far away from her town, though. Why would they put Cato so far away from where he initially lived? And it was a five hour drive from her parents’ house!

Surely it wouldn’t be a nuisance to put Cato in the Victor’s Village there?! They’d been there before, there were empty houses they could give to Cato!

“And now, a surprise from our very own crew to our dear victor,” the reporter’s voice caught her attention again, and Luna’s neck snapped to look up at him. “When Caesar heard about the wonderful news from your bride herself, he wanted to give the two of you something.”

She stood up, a bit weary. They were talking about the baby.

“And, of course, we all poured into it,” he continued, grinning.

Cato came to her right away, grabbing her hand, looking at her face and squeezing her fingers, and she just knew he knew her too well to fall for any attempt of hers to pretend she was alright.

Luna didn’t even hear the words the man was speaking to the camera as Cato walked her off, trying to focus on keeping herself breathing and not just digging a hole to hide away in.

Why had they given her a dress with such big sleeves. It was August. Who wore sleeves in August?

The reporter opened the door, and Cato ushered them inside, and she froze at the sight of what was inside.

A nursery.

The bright electric colours were all she could see at first — the walls, the bedding, the curtains. Everything loud and overwhelming. A bunch of weird toys cluttered the space, and it looked like something out of a Capitol showroom rather than a nursery.

“What do you think?” the reporter turned to them expectantly, his smile widening.

She looked away from them, not trusting herself to give them an answer. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed down the sharp sting of tears. This was supposed to be their child’s room. Their nursery. Their choices! The colours, the crib, the details — they should’ve picked everything themselves! Wasn’t that part of it? The excitement, the joy of creating a space together for the baby they were expecting?

But even that had been taken from them, stripped of meaning and turned into some TV spectacle!

She felt Cato’s fingers squeezing hers, urging her to meet his gaze, and his eyes searched her face as she she shook her head, her lower lip trembling despite her efforts to hold it all in.

If she said even a word, she could fall into tears. He had to know.

Cato sighed softly, and Luna caught the brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he pulled her into his chest. She buried her face against him without hesitation, trying to block out the room, the cameras, the eyes on her.

She just wanted to disappear.

“Oh, look at her!” the reporter cooed, his voice dripping with fake sympathy as if he were talking to a shy toddler. “Oh, darling, there’s no need to cry. The poor thing…”

Luna flinched as she felt a stranger's hand brush her back, but before she could pull away, Cato’s hand replaced it, holding her closer.

“She’s just overwhelmed,” Cato said smoothly, his voice so fake she couldn’t even recognise it, the perfect mask of politeness. “We had such a long day, with so many surprises. This is… so beautiful and so nice. The gifts we’ve received, the wonderful people we met…”

She tried to focus on the sound of him under her – his voice echoing in his chest, the sound of his heart under her ear, as loud and fast as her own.

“This is so wonderful,” Cato continued, his tone as hollow as the words he spoke. “I never once thought returning home would be so… joyful.”

Joyful. Had he ever used that word? Well, no. It wasn’t Cato speaking; it was a script. A line fed to him, polished and memorized for a moment like this.

“We are so glad to be part of this, you have no idea,” the reporter affirmed, like he was talking about a fairytale of sorts.

Cato’s hand rubbed soothing circles on her back, but the motion felt mechanical, his hand gentle but nothing close to the usual affection.

“And cut,” the assistant called out cheerfully, clapping her hands. “Now we’ll take a photo for Caesar and wrap everything up at the garden — it’s going to be majestic!”

Cato stiffened as he pulled away from Luna, his motions rigid, mechanical and she kept her eyes down as everyone around them began to move, chatting and arranging things, but she couldn’t even look at the damn room!

They weren’t going to set up the nursery there! They weren’t even doing to stay in that damn room, who would willingly sleep at the 3rd floor of a house that size?!

“Let’s just get a that photo quick,” someone said loudly, grabbing her attention.

She froze for a moment. Couldn’t they have a moment?

Before she could process it, the woman in red—heels clacking against the vivid green carpet— rushed toward her, hands already reaching out.

“Oh, you are a mess,” she exclaimed, suddenly reaching for her face and taking her hair from behind her ears. “Who let you wear your hair like that? You needed curls!”

Luna froze, staring at her, motionless.

Why was she touching her face? Her face!

No.

No, no, no. That was it.

She stepped away from the woman, feeling as stiff as a cut of marble, with her hands in front of her body, looking for the way out of the room without thinking.

“Luna,” Cato called again, the irritation she knew he was feeling sipping into his voice.

But she didn’t stop or even looked at him, her legs moved before her brain could catch up. She burst into the bedroom, then the first door she could find, her fingers trembling as she slammed it shut behind her, locking it with a desperate twist.

She could barely breathe when she practically crawled into a corner, ignoring the fabrics and clothes, tucking herself into a squared space she wouldn’t know how to name in the dark, heart pounding in her ears and dress itching her back. She didn’t even think before her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the back of her neck, pulling the dress down off her shoulders. It bunched awkwardly around her belly as she hugged her knees to her chest, curling into herself.

There was a noise of chatter outside that overwhelmed even her earplugs, and she covered her ears without even thinking, flinching when a knock on the door echoed through the empty room.

“Luna,” Cato’s voice followed, cold and deliberate, and every word felt like it was being spat out. “Come out.”

She closed her eyes, tucking her head down, unable to even speak any words.

“They want to take a picture of us and film our garden."

But they had already taken so many pictures. Why did they need more? Couldn’t they just use one of the hundreds they’d already taken the whole day?

“Please,” his voice dropped into a near-hiss, his frustration seeping through the door . “You’re making a scene.”

The words hit her like a whip, stinging. A scene. She didn’t want to be causing a scene, she wasn’t trying to make things difficult, he had to know that.

Cato knew her. She didn’t like loud noises, she didn’t like scratchy clothes, and she didn’t like being touched by strangers! He knew all of that — he knew it since the very first day they’d met!

Cato’s knock came again, louder and sharper this time, making her flinch, and Luna curled into herself even more.

There was a sigh from the other side of the door—heavy and full of forced patience.

“We can proceed without my bride,” Cato’s voice announced, loud and clear, his words filled with a performative politeness. “She is terribly emotional because of the baby and the wonderful gifts we received today. We should give her a minute.

Luna bit down on her lip hard, her hands clutching her hair for a moment.

Because of the baby. Of course, it was always because of the baby. She was too emotional, too fragile to handle anything anymore, as if she hadn’t been surrounded by people she didn’t know as they pushed and shoved her and ogled her like a zoo animal the whole day.

The voices outside the door started to fade. They must have believed Cato’s explanation. The sounds of footsteps grew distant, and after a few minutes, silence finally fell over the room.

[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.