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7s3ven · 1 year ago

Note

hello! ur writing is so fun and rahhhh i heart it. idk if ur taking cato reqs but i love him bro its an issue. anyhow, childhood friend!tribute!reader and him coming to terms with the fact that both of them cant win. could be platonic or romantic whatever u like<3

I’m literally in love with Cato.

( master list )

DANCING WITH UR GHOST. cato hadley

IN WHICH… Cato Hadley and Y/N L/N accept there can only be one winner. The Capitol watches as one falls and the other leaves the arena with a furious heart, never quite moving on.

Warnings : not proof-read, a little bit of angst, some gore (it’s the hunger games)

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THG TAG LIST : No one rn 💀

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It was a hot and sunny day when the Capitol chose to announce the tributes. Small beads of sweat rolled down Y/N’s forehead as she clasped her hands behind her back. The sun was relentlessly beating down on the large group of teenagers crowded in front of the stage, organised by age and all eagerly waiting.

Y/N wasn’t like the rest of her District. She had seen how the effects of the Hunger Games weighed down on the tributes. Haymitch had turned to drinking after the slaughter of his family. Y/N couldn’t imagine returning home to see the people you held dear gruesomely bloodied on the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cato. He stood out from the boys, being one of the tallest and towering over them. He had his jaw clenched and he was impatiently tapping his foot, waiting until he could leap onto the stage.

His head turned and they locked eyes. Y/N was the first to break into an amused smile and he returned it, his pale lips curving upwards.

Y/N paid no attention to the video playing on the screen in front of her. They showed it every year and she had practically memorised the voice lines by now. Her mind flashed back to yesterday, the day where Cato had suggested the unthinkable.

“What if we run away?” He questioned, making Y/N pause. She grasped the handle of her ax tightly as she spun around to face her childhood friend.

“What?” She needed to make sure that she had heard him right. It’s not like Y/N hadn’t thought of it before but for Cato Hadley of all people to ask was outrageous. He was Two’s greatest candidate. They were all counting on him.

“You heard me. What if we ran away? Away from all this and away from the games? I wouldn’t have to worry about being a peacekeeper. We could do it, you and me.”

Y/N has full faith in her axe skills and Cato’s strength but the idea was almost too crazy to pull off. She shook her head, “They’d find us.” She whispered. Y/N was glad nobody else was in the gym because this could be considered treason.

Y/N subtly shook her head. If only leaving District Two was that easy. They would surely notice if their strongest candidate and his axe-throwing friend went missing.

Her attention was caught by the lady, Kikoro, walking towards the microphone in a hideously bright yellow skirt. Beside her, Y/N heard Clove laugh.

Clove was a good friend of Cato’s and by default she was a friend of Y/N’s too. She was shorter than both of them but that didn’t stop her from snapping at people left and right. Her skills with throwing knives were amazing and Y/N often felt a little jealous. Surely the knives were lighter compared to lugging around a wooden stick with a blade attached to it.

“Now, I must warn you, there’s a new little rule. No volunteering this year.” Kikoro uttered into the microphone, her lips covered in yellow lipstick curling into an unsettling smile. She ignored the disappointed jeers from the teenagers as she reached into the first bowl. “Ladies first. It’s only polite.”

Everybody watched with bated breath as Kikoro unfolded the piece of paper painfully slow. Clove was practically shaking with excitement.

Kiroko cleared her throat before she leaned forward, glancing at the crumbled paper. “Y/N L/N.” She said.

Y/N clicked her tongue, thinking it was all a sick joke. She wasn’t scared shitless like the tributes in the paper districts were but she was disappointed. Why her and not somebody who actually wanted to compete?

Y/N begrudgingly stepped onto stage after being dragged by a peacekeeper. “Let go of me.” She hissed, yanking her arm out of the man’s grip.

“What’s your name, dear?” Kiroko asked, gesturing Y/N to step forward to the microphone. The H/C-nette stared at the Capitol citizen in confusion.

“You just said my name… Y/N L/N.”

Kikoro paused before she burst into a fit of light laughter. “Ah, sorry dear. I’m so used to volunteers. Next up, the boys.”

Y/N hoped her District partner would be someone useful who she could discard later. Someone strong but not too strong as to overpower her.

As Y/N rocked back and forth on her heels, she glanced over at Kikoro who was now unfolding the second paper. She read text written in black ink before grasping the microphone.

Hearing her own name getting called didn’t frighten Y/N but as Kikoro declared the male tribute, her heart dropped so fast that she may as well collapsed. It was the one person she wished hadn’t been chosen.

“Cato Hadley.”

The train ride was silent. Enobaria had tried talking to the pair but they never replied. Eventually, she gave up and went to a different compartment.

“We should’ve run away.” Y/N quietly muttered, suddenly regretting not putting the absurd plan into action. Across from her, Cato chuckled.

“Yeah…” He paused, refusing to believe that this was really happening. That he’d have to kill his best friend if he wanted to survive. He was brought back to the harsh reality as the train bumped along the tracks.

“You should’ve played dead… or something.” Y/N stirred the spoon around in her cup of coffee, having no intentions of actually tasting the bitter drink. She licked her dry lips. “What happens if we’re the last ones left?”

Cato didn’t have the courage to answer. He pushed his food around with his fork for a few moments before finally lifting his head. “May the best win.” He uttered.

Y/N glanced out the window, staring at the tall buildings of the Capitol in the distance. She took a deep breath as the train quickly approached the large city and their impending doom.

The days in the Capitol were limited. And they passed by fast. One minute Y/N was standing in front of the dummy targets, skilfully throwing axes as their heads then the next she was in front of a crowd in a glittery gold gown.

“You’re a fan favourite, Y/N. How does that make you feel?” Caesar, with his crazy blue hair and matching suit, said as he widely grinned.

“I guess I’m just that charming.” Y/N smiled as she leaned back in her seat, gracefully crossing one leg over the other.

“Our time is almost up but may I ask the question that everyone has been wondering? What on earth is going on between you and Cato?”

The Capitol had caught wind of the small stolen glances and borderline flirtatious kisses on the knuckles. Y/N shifted in her seat as she recalled the event before this very interview.

“You look…” Cato entered the room, practically starstruck as Y/N stood on a small platform. “Wow.” She frowned as she adjusted the tight bodice of her dress.

“Really? Because right now, I can’t really breathe.” Y/N let out a small laugh but she felt her corset suffocate her lungs.

“Does this look like a face that would lie to you?” Cato grasped Y/N’s hands and helped her off the platform. “I mean it. You look stunning… almost makes me wish we were getting ready for a ball instead of this.” Cato’s face was so close. Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes dart to his lips.

“You look handsome too.” She playfully grinned as she straightened Cato’s tie. “Blue suits you.”

“We’re just friends.” Y/N repeated that overused phrase while the Capitol citizens groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to admit… Cato is handsome but I can’t imagine dating someone I’ve known since childhood… his face is getting a little annoying.”

Y/N’s cheeky remark earned her a few laughs.

“If given the chance, I probably would’ve liked to kiss him once, you know?” Y/N’s confidence grew and she forgot all about how Cato could hear her words through the small screen in the waiting room. She folded her arms over her chest just as the timer buzzed.

“Y/N L/N, everybody!” Caesar declared.

She stepped off the stage and back into the shadows, away from the piercing lights. Glimmer and Marvel had already returned to their rooms and Y/N was about to do the same before Cato came into view.

She saw him wave enthusiastically at the crowd but his eyes were on her. She shrank back, suddenly aware of what she had said during the interview.

Y/N scurried off before Caesar could even ask Cato one question. She stormed into the room assigned to District Two. Enobaria was sitting on the couch, clicking the TV remote buttons.

“Need help getting out of that dress?” The sharp-toothed woman asked. Y/N silently nodded.

“Thank you.” Y/N said, finally able to breathe properly again. She would never take oxygen for granted again.

Y/N was only dressed in a black singlet and shorts when Cato burst through her personal room door. “What was that?” He demanded, slamming the door behind him. “If given the chance? I’m giving you the damn chance, Y/N!”

Y/N let out a squeak of surprise when he grabbed her face and pulled her forward, swiftly kissing her like he had been waiting to do so for years. With how his hands trailed down to tightly grip her waist, Y/N wouldn’t be surprised if Cato had been dreaming of this moment.

Cato pulled away, resting his forehead on Y/N’s. “How’s that for a given chance?”

The sun in the arena felt different. Its heat was blistering and Y/N felt her body burning up underneath her heavy jacket. She wanted to discard the warm piece of clothing but it would come in handy at night.

The Careers had already made their allies clear. Y/N glanced at Cato who was already staring at her as usual.

To Y/N’s left was Glimmer, who was impatiently tapping her foot as the countdown began. Y/N stared at the decreasing numbers until it reached five and she had no choice but to get ready to run.

This was no mere dream, it was a reality that Y/N wish she didn’t exist in, for Cato’s sake.

To no one’s surprise, Cato was the first to react as the countdown finished. He leaped off his podium, immediately making a run for a silver sword. Some tributes turned tail and ran but those who joined the mess in the middle were gruesomely stabbed by Cato.

Y/N grasped a pack of throwing knives, tossing the sharp objects at anything that moved. She managed to cut Katniss’ cheek and the ravenette was not pleased about that. The District Twelve girl shot an arrow Y/N’s way but she ducked and avoided it.

“Y/N, here!” Cato tossed a fancy looking axe her way. She easily caught it, swinging it at a foolish boy who thought he could beat her.

The bloodbath didn’t last long thanks to Cato. He either killed or drove off any of the remaining tributes. “I’m feeling pretty good about this.” He grinned down at Y/N as they waltzed around the Cornucopia. He twirled his heavy sword in his hand.

“You’re in a good mood.” Y/N muttered. The hunger for bloodshed had clouded Cato’s mind, causing him to forget that Y/N would have to die in order for him to emerge victorious. She said nothing about it, though, not wanting to spoil his cheerful mood.

“I’ll be in a better mood after this.” Cato chuckled to himself as he pecked Y/N’s lips. He held her close, burying his face in her neck.

Y/N stood still, awaiting the moment where they would be forced to turn on each other. Out of the pair, Y/N had always been the rational realist.

Glimmer was dead, filled with toxin after Katniss sabotaged the Careers’ camp.

Marvel was next. Katniss skewered him like a kebab with her arrow. He died on the forest floor, joining Glimmer in Katniss’ kill count.

And then there were two. Y/N had narrowly avoided being bashed in the head with a stone by Thresh. The side of her head was still bleeding, the crimson liquid staining the green grass below.

Y/N groaned as she collapsed beside Cato, leaning against the large tree trunk. “Who’s left?” She rasped. She had heard a canon go off but she had no idea who it was.

“The boy from Eleven, the pair from two, and us.” Cato replied, his shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. He pulled out a small tin bottle, handing it over to Y/N. She gratefully took a large gulp of cold water. “Don’t worry, we’ll get home.” He whispered, “You and me forever.” After Y/N’s near death experience, Cato realized that the Capitol had played him as a fool. But he was happy about the announcement that said two victors could win if they originated from the same District.

Y/N leaned her head on Cato’s shoulder and closed her eyes, deeply sighing. She didn’t know when she dozed off or how long she was asleep but she cracked open one eye to see Cato hurriedly shaking her.

Night time, the Careers’ prime time to hunt, had already past. When Y/N’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, she furrowed her eyebrows. She was in a cave yet she remembered falling asleep on the forest floor. And Cato was covered in bites and gruesome grazes and blood. So much blood.

“Cato…” Y/N breathed, quickly leaning forward, “What happened to you?”

“I killed Katniss and Peeta… and the mutts killed Thresh. It’s you and me left, Y/N.” His sounded sounded so weak and he sluggishly cupped her face, panting heavily. For once, he was covered in his own blood rather than the blood of his victims.

“You drugged me…” Y/N’s heart fell to her stomach as she realized what had happened. Cato had slipped sleeping pills into the water and while she was knocked out, he put her in a cave and went to hunt down the three other tributes. She furrowed her brows. “How could you? Cato… you could’ve died.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah… I know. That was kind of the point. While you were asleep, they revoked the two victors rule. There can only be one again.”

That was enough for tears to well up in Y/N’s eyes. “Don’t leave me… please.” She cried as she held Cato, her childhood friend and her first true crush. His blood stained her muddy clothes but she didn’t care. “Please…” She trailed off as Cato wheezed.

“The mutts did a good job on me.” He muttered, finding it harder to stay awake. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“No. Cato. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here!” She immediately noticed how his pulse slowed down. “Stay awake, Cato! I can fix this! Please.”

Y/N had already come to terms that there could only be one victor but she had yet to accept that fact that she had to lose Cato to walk out.

“You can’t give up now… we came this far. We can sort something out.” Y/N uttered as she shook Cato in a fruitless attempt to convince him.

“I love you, Y/N.” He grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I always have. Ever since we became friends. Ever since you were the first to find the courage to talk to me. I don’t know what I would have done with you.”

Y/N laughed as a sob bubbled up in her throat. “I love you too. If only your name wasn’t called. I could’ve won the games and come back to you.” She shakily sighed as she leaned down to kiss Cato’s cold lips. She placed her hand on his neck and when she felt no pulse, she pulled back in a panic.

“Cato?” She shook him once. Then again. “Cato?!” She repeated, this time louder. “No… no… no! Don’t leave me here! Cato!”

She screamed so loud that the sound echoed around the forest, scaring the birds and causing them to flee.

“Cato!”

Y/N walked out of the arena a free woman. Not quite since Snow would still have full control over her but she liked to think she was free to a certain extent.

The Capitol workers had tried to discard of the necklace she held so tightly in her left hand but she refused to let them take it away. It was the only remaining memory she had of Cato.

Anger swirled around in her heart like a monster, threatening to burst free and reign terror over anyone that came in contact with her.

Only now was Y/N realising why the victors never looked genuinely happy despite having everything they wanted. It was because Snow tore their deepest desires away, always holding it near but never within their reach.

Enobaria had wanted to be a mother.

Gloss wanted a peaceful life with his sister.

Cashmere wanted nothing more than to take care of the children in District One.

Brutus craved freedom from Snow’s cruel clutches.

And poor Y/N dreamt of becoming a bride but as she watched the light drift from Cato’s eyes, her wish was swept away with it.

Now, Snow had nothing to take away from her because the person she loved the most was already gone.

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blueberrypancakesworld · 1 year ago

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You are ours - Career Tributes - Yandere

warning : yandere behavior, obsession, flirting

Summary : The tributes from the first and second districts had further advantages. It was only fair that they looked for a pretty thing before the big day when they still had time. Above all, they loved to treat their love in their own special way.

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Cato : The champion and one of the best sprouts that came from the best districts. The blond warrior loved weapons and the glory he imagined. When he saw her, the pretty little bird, an inhabitant of the Capitol and yet one of the poorer ones who flitted back and forth between the rich as a servant, he could not take his bright eyes off her. A word with his "mentor" later and she was his at least until the games began. ,,You're here for me, beauty, you know that, right?" he asked as she joined him in the training arena. He saw her nod slightly, saw exactly how the warmth closed on her cheeks. ,,You didn't get much attention, did you, sweetie?" he asked, coming closer to her, the sword he had been practicing with minutes before still in his hand. She knew about the danger, knew that she was replaceable, knew that he had no consequences. But he knew she was his only one for the moment. His pretty little bird. The smell of sweat and metal with leather enveloped him. But he didn't touch her and when he did he played with the strands of her hair, loving to see her full of shame. He complimented her, sometimes more suggestively, sometimes less, and flirted with her. No matter where his little bird flew, her hunter was always like a shadow behind her. Just waiting to strike again.

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Clove : Had also seen the servant, her little mouse always uncertain and yet silent before she quickly disappeared. The girl was here to win with or without Cato but in the time until the Hunger Games she could use it to have some fun. She would call her mouse to her, she would stand over her for the time she was here. Clove smirked as she saw the unexpected and fearful reaction. As the blade of the knife passed over her cheek. ,,Little mouse... what's wrong? Does the cat have your tongue?" she asked with a grin and giggled when she saw the slight shake of the other's head. Clove loved watching them, seeing the reactions. Focusing on her as her little mouse had to come to her again and again. She loved teasing the pretty servant with her weapons, looks and gestures. Whether it was a gentle touch with her fingers, the cold metal of the knife on her arm or a hug so cold and possessive that Clove could feel her heart beating fast. The mouse knew she couldn't escape the cat and Clove's grin only widened. Oh yes, the girl would still have fun with her mouse, every reaction only spurred her on even more.

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Glimmer : Glimmer had an eye for beauty. She herself w as the prettiest of all the tributes. They knew that, the Capitol knew that, and the servant seemed to know that too, glancing at the blonde from time to time and disappearing into the crowd like a butterfly. "Little butterfly, you pretty one, come here. Kneel down here, I want to do something," she ordered her one day, using her charm even though it wasn't necessary. She saw how uncertain the employee looked for a moment before she sat down on the cushion between Glimmer's legs. Looking straight ahead, she flinched when Glimmer started to do her hair. It was always like this, the blonde loved to do the other's hair, do each other's nails and give her a kiss on the cheek. It was like she enjoyed the company. In the beauty of herself and her butterfly. And more and more often, her lips sought out her partner. She loved it when they cuddled, regardless of whether her butterfly wanted to fly away or not. Glimmer always had her pretty fingers at the ready to spear her if she left. They still had plenty of time for more fun.

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Marvel : His eyes had seen the pretty bunny. ,,Are you shy, little bunny?" he asked himself, mumbling as his gaze met hers. Had watched closely as she disappeared into the crowd of nobles. Had seen her fear as he threw the spear perfectly at the target. It was like a chase between them, his pretty, scared little bunny just waiting for the eagle that was always above her, always watching her no matter how many times she tried to run away. One word from her and he knew she would come to him. But the one thing he knew would drive her mad was his gaze. Unlike the other three, he loved to watch her, to see what reactions he elicited and did. To see his little ass realize that there was so much more going on in his mind. ,,You must have come to me willingly pretty bunny" he said and put the spear down but held it firmly showing her that he was ready to strike at any second. She had understood that it was better to stay in his field of vision than to run away and get killed. The satisfied smile on his lips widened when he saw the slight nod. Oh, he would enjoy this hunt to the end. When he had had his fill of her reactions and emotions before he would strike at his pretty bunny.

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#the hunger games #hunger games movies #cato hunger games #clove hunger games #glimmer hunger games #marvel hunger games #cato x reader #clove x reader #glimmer x reader #marvel x reader

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cherryslyce · 2 years ago

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Sharp Knives, Sharp Gazes | Clove Kentwell

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

Masterlist

Pairing: Clove Kentwell x District 4!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

“To what do I owe the pleasure, 1.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See you around, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t look bad yourself, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“So you’re with us then?”

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Some sponsors would be good right about now.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, dad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t talk like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Tell Y/N that she’s killing me -F’

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

“Oh, you have no idea.”

#the hunger games #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games x reader #clove kentwell #clove kentwell x reader #clove kentwell imagine #cato hadley #the hunger games marvel #the hunger games glimmer #district 4 #district 12 #district 2 #district 1

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nickeverdeen · 1 month ago

Note

Could I request SFW and NSFW headcanons for Glimmer from the first Hunger Games Movie? She was so pretty I got sad when she died 🥲

Glimmer SFW and NSFW hcs

Glimmer knows how to use her charm to her advantage, both in and out of the arena, whether it’s winning allies or disarming potential threats with a smile

She’s meticulous about her looks, seeing her beauty as both a weapon and armor

She spends time perfecting her hair even in stressful situations

Despite her Career mindset, Glimmer has moments of genuine kindness, especially toward those she cares about or people she sees as underdogs

She’s more strategic than people give her credit for, often analyzing situations to figure out the best way to achieve her goals

If she forms a bond with someone, she’s fiercely loyal and protective, even if it puts her at risk

She dreams of a life beyond the Games, one where she can live peacefully and maybe even find love without the Capitol’s interference

Glimmer has a taste for the finer things in life and enjoys indulging in Capitol luxuries like decadent food and extravagant clothing

When she cares about someone, she listens intently, offering support and practical advice

She loves to tease those she’s close to, showing a more lighthearted side when she feels comfortable

Glimmer is a natural leader who doesn’t shy away from taking control when others hesitate

Glimmer is fully aware of her physical appeal and loves teasing her partner, enjoying the power it gives her

She has a dominant streak, often taking the lead, but she keeps it playful rather than overly serious

Glimmer’s kisses are intense and passionate, often leaving her partner breathless and wanting more

She knows how to set the mood with lingering touches, sultry glances, and whispered words

Glimmer loves the build-up, enjoying every moment of foreplay and savoring her partner’s reactions

She’s open to trying new things, as long as there’s trust and mutual interest

She’s not shy about showing off her body, using it to express her confidence and desire

Glimmer enjoys being complimented and thrives on knowing she’s driving her partner wild

When things heat up, Glimmer is all in, bringing a fiery intensity to every encounter

She loves leaving marks, whether it’s playful bites or scratches down her partner’s back

Glimmer loves exploring her partner’s body, taking her time to learn their every sensitive spot

Despite her intensity, she’s attentive afterward, ensuring her partner feels cared for and comfortable

She’s not against a bit of risk, enjoying the idea of sneaking moments of intimacy where they might get caught

Even in the bedroom, Glimmer doesn’t take herself too seriously, making jokes or laughing if something goes awry to keep things light and fun

#request #headcanons #glimmer thg #glimmer the hunger games #glimmer x reader #thg #the hunger games

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xetlynn · 5 months ago

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The Hunger Games- Protecter: Chapter Five, Tracker Jackers

(Peeta X Reader)

[Four] [Five] [Six]

I woke up when the sun rose in the fake sky made by the Capitol. I untie myself from the tree, getting all my stuff together before throwing the backpack over my shoulders.

I carefully slide down the tree, accidentally slipping and scraping my leg. "Shit." I murmur to myself, I gently lift my pants up to see if it's bleeding.

Luckily it barely broke skin. I dust myself off and head over to my snares. I check the first one, the Careers messed with it. That's when I grow disappointed. Hoping that doesn't mean they did it to all of them. I move to the next one and to the heavens or whoever. There's a squirrel. Quite a skinny one but it's a squirrel nonetheless.

I carefully get it out of the makeshift noose for tinier animals. Then moving to the next one. That one seemed to have just missed something. At least I got something out of the three. I take the wire from the last one. Taking it apart and putting it in my backpack. I make sure I hear nothing around. Leaving the dead squirrel on the ground so I can climb up a tree and see if there's anything around.

I don't hear or see any movement so I get back down. Huffing from the climbing. Hating every second of it.

I skin the animal, then move onto starting the tiniest fire possible. Knowing I'm going to have to be fast with cooking the squirrel. I get a thin stick, tying the limbs of the squirrel onto it. Holding it over there fire. A little closer than I normally would.

Every little noise in the woods has me on the edge of my feet. Ready to be on the move. I even made a little thing of dirt to hurriedly cover the fire.

My backpack was on my back and everything. I watch the squirrel, it didn't take long to cook, even if it wasn't fully finished it was enough to be slightly enjoyable. I cover the fire knowing I should get moving so I don't get caught by anybody.

I take out a fabric that was in the bag, ripping apart the squirrel and leaving out the part I'm going to eat so I have some for later. I also hold onto the knife in my empty hand. Not wanting to be completely defenseless.

Every noise has me paranoid. The sounds of animals freaking me out. I feel like something's watching me, besides the cameras of course. It's weird.

Walking for hours now I feel like I'm getting to a point of dehydration. I need to find a body of water soon. That's kind of the point of this but I also know if I find a body of water that means other tributes most likely are going to as well. Bumping into them. It's a good thing I have my canister.

Not having water though is really getting to me. My head is beginning to feel dizzy. I need to lay down. Maybe a nap will be good. It's had to have been hours of walking at this point. I lay down up against a tree.

I think about where Peeta is at this point. If he's still helping the Careers search for me. I think about Prim, Katniss, my dad, aunt, and Gale watching me be so weak needing to lay down. I think about how disappointed they probably are or are going to be with me. I finally pass out, knife in hand. Clutching it tightly even in my sleep.

I smell fire... reminding me of the fires we had in the little backyard we had. Gale, Katniss and I telling stories after my dad and Katniss's mom got the two little ones to sleep. The stuff about school. Distracting ourselves from how bad everything truly was.

Gale knew about my thing for Peeta. I never told Katniss. She would've thought it was silly. She never really had time to think about stuff like that. I admired her for her stern ways. How much she protected Primrose and my little Zay the way she did. I made things more fun, it irritated her sometimes but I know it helped.

The smell of the fire got worse, the warmth growing in front of me. I slowly stir as I wake up. I see the orange flames coming towards me. I let out a yelp, getting up. "Shit, shit!" I shout, immediately running the opposite direction of the fire.

As I run I glance behind me and it's like the fire is rolling forward. I look ahead of me and a tree appears. I trip as I moved out of the way. I fall to the ground. The fire slices against my arm, a deep burn. Along with my torso due to the way I fell, not as bad as my arm though. I scream in pain but I cover my mouth. Getting back up. The adrenaline covering bits of the pain in my arm.

I see ahead that there's a body of water. I run in as fast as I can. I feel relief at first from the coolness but then hiss in pain when it stings. Tears form in the corners of my eyes but I blink them away. I turn around and see the Fire begin to disappear. I quickly take my bag out, filling my canister with the water.

I sigh out. But I couldn't relax for long when I hear a voice. "There she is! There she is!" I hear the boy from District 1 shout. I shove my canister in the bag. Throwing it back over my shoulders. I get up and run out of the water as the careers fight over who is going to kill me.

"She's mine!" I hear the girl from district 1 yell. "Not if I get her first!" Cato disagrees. I run as fast as I can. My torso rubbing against the fabric. My arm as well and I want to cry. My calves burn as I run.

"Mine!" Glimmer laughs, almost grabbing my bag. "Where you gonna go?" Cato asks me. I get out of their eyesight for a split second as I make a certain turn. "There shit is!"

"Yeah!" Glimmer cheers. I find a tree similar to the one I climbed in the beginning. It was the easiest. I can't slip up. I have to be swift. "Here we go! Where you going, huh?" Cato asks. He's right on my trail, ahead of the others.

"Get her, Cato!"

"Where do you think you're going?" Cato questions as I begin to climb up the tree. Moving as fast as possible given my state. "Where you going, Girl on Fire?" He questions once again as I reach a higher branch. Girl on Fire is so ironic now. It's a little funny as I feel the burns on my body.

"We got her!" Glimmer grins. I catch my breath but still climb higher. "Miss Everdeen, I'm gonna get you!" Cato shakes his head.

"That's not gonna help you up there, [Name]." Glimmer informs me. "Where are you going?" Cato asks one of the other Careers. I see someone trying to climb after me but they're not fast enough. "Going to get her man!" It was the boy from district one. "You are so done." Cato shoves the boy down and climbs himself. "Look at her scurry."

"He's gonna get you, [Name]."

I ignore them, doing what I'm trying to do to survive. I hear all of them cheer but at this point I am blocking it out. Sweat trickling down my forehead.

I'm still slightly wet from being in the water just moments ago. I focus on that instead of the other tributes below me. My foot slips for a moment and I almost lose all footing I head. I grip onto the thick branch, my feet dangling, almost in reach to Cato but he falls before he can even do anything.

I lift myself up and get onto a good stable branch. "I'll do it myself." Glimmer states, getting the bow and arrow ready. She doesn't know what she's doing and I become confident in the fact that I might make it through this. She misses me, the arrow barely even reaching me.

"Give me that." Cato snatches it from the blonde girl. "Get her." She mutters. "Come on, come on, come on!" District one boy shouts.

I wait for impact but nothing comes as well. He also misses me. I laugh at the sight, I probably shouldn't but I'm about to die so what does it matter. "Might as well throw that sword!" I smirk down at them.

I hear curses that follow, they all look aggravated. "Let's just wait her out. She's gotta come down at some point, it's either that or starve to death. We'll just kill her then." I hear Peeta tell them, I stiffen up. He had to be the voice of reason in that moment. I had to hear him say that.

"Okay. Somebody make a fire." Cato orders... After that I ignore the words that leave their mouths. I watch them intently though, their every move throughout the night. Trying to plan some sort of escape even though it's futile. There was no way I was going to make it out of this.

I tie myself on the tree, taking out my bag. I begin to feel the burn on my skin once again. I take the jacket off, shoving it into my bag. I then pull out the canister of water before finally checking out the burns on my arm and torso. My arm is all blistered, since the adrenaline left it's getting hard to lift my arm now. I frown.

I pour water on my burns, hissing. I drink some of the water, closing the canister and putting it back away. I lean back, looking up at the sky as if that would help me at all.

Hours pass, the Careers are sleeping, Glimmer was supposed to keep watch but she slipped into slumber as well.

I could definitely sneak past but with the burns I feel like I can barely move. My torso stinging with every breath I take. My arm can barely even move forward.

I hear a sound coming from the sky and I look up. It looks like the sky is opening up somehow and a little thing is coming through. I furrow my eyebrows. It gets closer and I realize what it is.

It's a gift from a sponsor. It lands right by me in another branch. I reach over and grab it. Opening the small container it has an ointment inside. I open it, immediately using it on my burns.

I remember when Aunt Claire would make an ointment of her own. I know not to lather so much on the burns. It soothes the pain almost instantly. I say a thank you out to the world, meaning it for Haymitch before I fall asleep.

Holding a knife in hand, my bag containing everything in the other.

In the morning I hear a small noise. I glance downward and see the Careers are still asleep directly below me. I then look around the woods, I then spot a little figure in the trees beside me.

I squint my eyes and notice it's the little girl from District 11. Rue. I remember her following me around. I give her a small smile and wave to her. Her face stays stern, she points over to the Tracker Jackers nest that I didn't even realize was there. Just like the other tree.

I'm surprised I didn't hear the buzzing last night. She signals down at the Careers. My eyes widen at what she's motioning for me to do. I think about it, staring at the nest then back down to the sleeping bodies. If I drop it...

Peeta will also get stung. I have a chance of also getting stung and I know what's going to happen. I press my lips together knowing this is my only shot of getting away from them. I look back to the small girl and give a short nod. I wave her to go away so she doesn't get stung. I take a breath.

I also notice how I don't feel any pain on my arm or torso from the burns. I lift my shirt to see the burn practically healed. I then check my arm and it's the same thing.

I close my eyes in relief. This ointment must be from the Capitol, real good stuff. There's no way something from the districts could give these results this fast.

Shaking my head, I look to see if Rue was still there but she wasn't. She was already gone. I huff, untying myself from the tree and putting the rope in my back. Putting my knife in between my teeth, I bite down.

I begin to climb over to the nest. Once I get to it I know I have to be swift with it. I can't take forever. These bugs don't like when anyone messes with their nest. I take the knife from my mouth and begin to cut at the nest. Quickly sawing the little knife back and forth. I feel a sting on my hand and I wince, still going.

I feel another on my arm near the burn but I keep going until finally it falls to the ground landing right on the Careers. They scream and run away. I watch as Glimmer is unable to run, multiple bugs stinging her. I get down and fall from the tree.

My eyes feel heavy and the world is dizzy. I see a figure in front of me but I look back and see Glimmer's corpse. Her body puffed up, swollen from the stings. Ooze coming out of her. I freak out but I see the Bow and arrows. Quickly I take it from her.

"Run! Run! Run!" I hear from behind me. I turn, dazed. I see Peeta standing there and I don't know if I'm hallucinating it or not. "[Name], go! Get out of here!" He shouts at me, pointing forward.

I shake my head, trying to look at him clearer. I start to walk toward him. "What are you doing? Go!" He yells at me, I then see movement behind him and my eyes widen. "Peeta..." I mutter but I know I need to run. I turn and move my feet. Trying to get faster and faster but all I do is repeatedly run into trees. Using them to keep me up.

It felt like the ground was sinking in, taking me with it. Everything was moving. I couldn't go any further but I had to force myself. Not knowing if the Careers were behind me or not.

I fall to the ground and see bugs everywhere. I scream out, or at least I think I did. I get back up and continue to run until I fall back down and I knew there was no getting up this time.

I see a house, my old house. Before living with Aunt Claire. I hear my mother's screams, her begging to be saved.

Then I see my little brother in my dad's arms. Tears streaming down his face.

"Dad?" I yell out. He disappears and then I see Katniss yelling at her mother to get up. To say something. I grab her arm but she vanishes. "Get out of here! What are you doing!" I hear Katniss's voice at first but then I hear Peeta's just like before.

I hear a bunch of talking. Katniss, Aunt Claire, Prim's scream, Zayden, my dad, Gale, and Peeta. Then it all stops and it's black.

I wake up to the sun beating on me. I hum, but then I freak out. I look down at my bug stings and there's leaves covering them. I sit up, I look over to see my bag right beside me instead of on my back.

I hear a small twig snap and I lift my head up to see Rue hiding behind a tree, watching me. "Rue? It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." I assure her, standing up. She backs away for a moment. I notice I have my bag in my hand. Not even realizing I picked it up.

"Sorry, here." I drop it, putting my hands up so she knows I'm not going to do anything. "I have some food in my bag." I tell her.

"Come here, we can eat." I point over to a log. I can tell she's still a tiny bit wary so I bend down. Taking the knife from the ground next to the bag and toss it over to her. "See, you can trust me." I tell her with a small smile. I hate that she's in here. It breaks my heart knowing she's just as young as Primrose. She picks the knife up and comes over to me.

"What kind of food do you have?" She asks me in a quiet tone. I break out into a bigger smile. "Squirrel and some food bar from the Capitol that was in this bag." I then lift the bag up and we go sit down at the log.

I hand her a big piece of the squirrel and then half of the food bar. Both of us eating in silence before I look back down at the leaves on my bug stings. "You do this?" I ask. I've seen this before from Aunt Claire. Rue nods her head.

I forget what the leaf is called but I know my Aunt uses the herbs, boiling them into a medicinal elixir. "I chewed them up, something the people do in 11 when we're in the woods. I don't know the name but I remembered what they looked like." She informs me. "I replaced them a few times." She tells.

"A few times? How long was I out?" I tilt my head, taking another bite of the food bar. "A couple days." She says simply, also taking another bite of her food. I notice how hunger she is. "Here." I hand the rest of the squirrel. "Are you sure?" She looks up at me. I only nod my head.

"Thank you." I suddenly say. "What happened while I was out?" I ask as she continues to eat.

"The girl from 1 and the boy from 10."

"And the boy from my district?" I nervously bring up, anxious about her reply. "He's okay, I think he's down by the river. Is all of that true?" I let my shoulders relax to her response. But then I get confused. "What?"

"You and him?" I only laugh. "So where are Cato and the others?" I change the subject.

"They got all their supplies down by the lake. It's piled up in this great big pyramid." She says, finishing her food. She wipes her hands on her pants.

"Sounds tempting, just out in the open?" I tilt my head with a small smirk already planning something. And it looks like she already has as well.

Masterlist

P.M. M.L.

Taglist: lmk if you want to be added!

@lizzymizzy-blogg

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missarchive · 28 days ago

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in love and war - spencer reid

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

who? district 3 spencer reid x cold district 7 fem!reader

category: slow burn, star-crossed lovers, ANGST!!!

content warnings: typical hunger games violence and gore. reader is basically johanna mason. suicide. major character death!!!

word count: around 7k

a/n: second post! please please please leave a comment, or send me some asks. i love feedback!!

The Capitol’s anthem blared over the dusty square of District 7, its piercing, triumphant notes slicing through the oppressive silence that had settled over the crowd. The sound was sharp and artificial, a cruel reminder of the Capitol’s control over every aspect of their lives. The crowd, a sea of tired faces etched with lines of hard labor, stood motionless. Not even the wind dared to stir the suffocating stillness.

You stood in the center of it all, your chin high, your jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Your hands were curled into fists at your sides, the nails biting into your palms, but you welcomed the sting—it was a tether, a reminder to hold your ground. Fear churned in your chest like a storm, but you refused to let it show. Not here, where the Capitol’s eyes bore into every detail. Not now, when weakness could feel like surrender.

The escort—a garish figure swathed in layers of shimmering emerald fabric that glimmered like scales—stepped forward. Her unnaturally bright smile stretched wide, her too-pale face powdered to an unsettling perfection. She carried an air of frivolous delight that clashed violently with the grim reality of the moment.

Her hand dipped into the glass bowl filled with slips of paper, each one carrying a name, a fate. The crowd seemed to hold its collective breath as she unfolded the slip, the paper crackling like thunder in the silence.

“Y/N L/N.” She called, her voice almost sing-song, as though your name were a punchline in some grotesque joke.

Your stomach dropped. It was as if the ground beneath you had vanished, and for one dizzying second, you felt weightless. Around you, the crowd shifted, parting like a tide. The faces you’d known all your life turned down, their gazes fixed on the ground. No one met your eyes—not out of malice, but out of helplessness. They couldn’t bear to see the fear that mirrored their own.

Your body moved on its own, each step measured and deliberate, a march toward your fate. You straightened your spine, forcing a calm you didn’t feel, willing yourself not to stumble. Not here, not in front of them. The Capitol would take your life, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

The stage loomed closer, its polished wood gleaming under the harsh afternoon sun. The escort’s sugary smile widened as you ascended the steps, her eyes glittering with a disturbing mix of glee and detachment. The weight of her gaze, coupled with the cameras trained on you, made your skin crawl. The icy dread clawing up your spine felt almost unbearable, but you pushed it down, burying it beneath a mask of resolve.

You took your place beside the male tribute. A boy your age, his face pale and drawn, with eyes that darted nervously over the crowd before finally settling on the ground. You’d seen him before—briefly, in passing. Maybe at the lumberyard or the market. You tried to recall his name, but your mind, heavy with the gravity of your fate, couldn’t hold onto the thought.

The Capitol had chosen its players, and now the game would begin.

The train to the Capitol hurtled forward through a blur of dense forests and barren plains, but inside, it was eerily silent. The only sound was the relentless chatter of the escort, her voice a cloying melody of superficial pleasantries and Capitol propaganda. She spoke of fashion, of glory, of the grand spectacle awaiting you, her words as empty as the smiles she had worn during the reaping. You ignored her, your gaze fixed on the window.

Outside, the world rushed by in muted greens and browns, a stark contrast to the gleaming metallic interior of the train. The plush seats and gilded fixtures exuded a nauseating opulence that mocked everything you had ever known. The Capitol’s promise of luxury was a cruel jest, a reminder of their excess against the backdrop of your district’s suffering.

Yet, when the meals came, you ate. The richly spiced meats, the delicate pastries that melted on your tongue, the sparkling drinks that fizzed against your lips—it all tasted of betrayal, but you swallowed it anyway. Every bite, every sip, felt like succumbing to the Capitol’s siren call. It was a grotesque imitation of comfort, designed to dull the edge of fear, to make you forget, even for a moment, what awaited you.

But the arena loomed in your mind, a shadowy specter that refused to be ignored. The thought of it gnawed at you, relentless and unyielding, like a ravenous beast caged just beneath your consciousness. Blood. Death. Survival. The knowledge of what you would have to do, of the lives you would have to take, coiled around your thoughts like barbed wire.

You forced yourself to push it all down—the guilt, the sorrow, the horror. You had no choice. Survival demanded that you bury your humanity, and the Capitol was counting on it.

At the front of the carriage, a small holographic display flickered to life, its cool blue glow casting faint shadows on the polished walls. The screen showed the reaping ceremonies from the other districts, each one a carefully orchestrated tableau of misery.

Districts 1 and 2 were first. Volunteers stepped forward with practiced bravado, their faces alight with the twisted pride of those who saw the Games as an honor. Their confidence, their hunger for glory, was a stark contrast to the quiet dread that settled over you like a shroud.

Then the broadcast shifted to District 3. The boy’s name was announced, and the camera panned to him.

“Spencer Reid.”

He was tall and lanky, his frame awkwardly angular as he stepped forward. The camera lingered on him, capturing every flicker of unease. He adjusted his glasses with a trembling hand, his movements hesitant, as if he could somehow shrink himself into nothingness. His face was pale, almost translucent under the harsh lights, his lips pressed into a tight, uncertain line.

He climbed the stage slowly, his shoulders hunched as though he were bracing for the weight of the Capitol’s gaze. Among the other reaped tributes—many of them brimming with bravado or resignation—he looked out of place, a fragile figure thrust into a world of brutality.

But when the camera zoomed in on his face, you saw something unexpected. Beneath the surface of his fear, hidden in the depths of his wide, intelligent eyes, was a spark of defiance. It wasn’t loud or overt—it wasn’t a rebel’s roar or a warrior’s fury. It was quiet, subtle, the kind of strength that doesn’t need to announce itself to exist.

You stared at the hologram, transfixed. Spencer Reid didn’t look like a fighter. He didn’t look like a killer. But there was something about him—a quiet resolve that made your chest tighten.

The hologram flickered to the next district, but his image lingered in your mind, a puzzle piece that didn’t yet fit. In the Capitol’s cruel game, you knew better than to hope. But for the first time since your name had been called, you felt the faintest stirrings of something you couldn’t quite name.

The training center was a swirling chaos of noise and motion, a cacophony of clashing weapons, shouted instructions, and the low hum of tributes murmuring strategies. Each station buzzed with activity as tributes from every district worked with single-minded determination, their eyes sharp, scanning the room for threats and opportunities alike. The air was charged with tension, a palpable reminder that everyone here was both a potential ally and a likely enemy.

You gravitated toward the weapons station, your steps purposeful despite the oppressive atmosphere. Your fingers closed around the handle of an axe, the smooth wood familiar against your calloused palms. The weight of it settled in your grip, solid and unyielding. It was a grim comfort, a connection to the forests of District 7, where axes were tools before they were weapons. Here, though, it was a tool for survival, one you knew you would have to wield with deadly precision.

Across the room, Spencer stood at the survival skills station, a stark contrast to the hardened tributes around him. He lingered near a trainer demonstrating knot-tying techniques, his posture slightly hunched as though trying to make himself smaller. His slight frame and nervous energy drew attention, a handful of tributes sparing amused or derisive glances in his direction.

Yet, he absorbed everything with a quiet intensity. His eyes flickered over the trainer’s hands, cataloging each movement, every knot and technique. His sharp mind seemed to analyze and store every detail, not missing a beat. But he wasn’t just watching the trainer—he was studying the other tributes, too. The arrogance in their stances, the overconfidence in their eyes, the way they dismissed him without a second thought. Spencer noted it all, filing it away, hoping that these observations would one day give him the edge he so desperately needed.

You first noticed him during a combat demonstration. The trainer had called for volunteers, and to your surprise, Spencer stepped forward, his thin fingers hesitantly wrapping around a wooden staff. The moment was over almost as soon as it began. A career tribute from District 2—a towering boy with broad shoulders and a predator’s grin—disarmed him with ease, knocking Spencer to the ground with a swift, calculated strike.

Spencer scrambled to his feet, his glasses askew, his hands fumbling to adjust them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the careers’ laughter. Their mocking echoes rang through the training hall, a cruel reminder of the Capitol’s engineered hierarchy.

Yet, he didn’t slink away. Instead, he stepped back, watching the careers’ movements closely. He reached for the notebook tucked under his arm, flipping it open and furiously scribbling notes, his brow furrowed in thought. Each failure seemed to fuel his focus, his mind dissecting every detail, breaking down what went wrong and how he could do better next time.

Something about him caught your attention. Maybe it was his stubborn determination to keep trying despite the odds stacked against him. Maybe it was the way his fingers trembled slightly as he wrote, but his gaze stayed steady, as if he could out-think the inevitability of the Games. Or maybe it was because he reminded you of someone—a faint, long-buried memory of someone who had needed protecting once, and how it had torn at you when you couldn’t.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” you said bluntly, stepping into his path as he left the station.

Spencer startled, nearly dropping his notebook. His knuckles turned white as he clutched it tighter, holding it like a lifeline. “I… I know,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet but remarkably steady. His hazel eyes met yours, nervous but resolute. “But there’s not much I can do about that… Unless you have a suggestion?”

You raised an eyebrow, studying him for a beat. He wasn’t cocky like the careers or resigned like so many others. He was clever, you could see that, and he had a spark of something most tributes didn’t: hope, no matter how faint.

“Stick with me in the arena,” you said, your tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “You focus on keeping us alive. I’ll handle the killing.”

He hesitated, his sharp mind clearly running calculations, weighing the risk and reward of your offer. “Why?” he asked finally, his gaze searching yours.

“Because you’re going to be dead weight otherwise,” you said bluntly, crossing your arms. “And I don’t want to fight your ghost on top of everyone else’s.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close enough. “Fair point,” he said softly, nodding.

You turned away, heading back toward the weapons station. Over your shoulder, you added, “Don’t make me regret it, Reid.”

He didn’t reply, but when you glanced back, you saw him adjust his glasses, straighten his posture, and follow.

The arena was a sprawling expanse of forest, its towering trees stretching endlessly toward the sky, their gnarled branches intertwining to form a suffocating canopy. The dense undergrowth was a labyrinth of roots and thorns, each step a gamble against the hidden dangers lurking beneath. The air was heavy, saturated with the earthy scent of pine, damp moss, and the faint metallic tang of decay. Overhead, the sky was a hazy gray, muted and ominous, as though even the sun refused to bear witness to the bloodshed below.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant boom of a cannon—a haunting reminder that lives were being snuffed out one by one. The eerie stillness of the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if the very land recoiled from the Capitol’s violence.

You and Spencer had been separated during the chaos of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. Amid the screams and the clash of weapons, you had fought your way to an axe, its familiar weight a small comfort in the madness. Spencer, ever the strategist, had snatched a small pack and disappeared into the tree line, avoiding direct confrontation. It wasn’t until hours later, when the initial slaughter had subsided and the forest had swallowed the remaining tributes, that you found him.

He was crouched low among the undergrowth, his shoulders hunched as he worked with trembling hands to set a rudimentary snare. The cord slipped in his grip, and he muttered a quiet curse under his breath, his frustration evident. Despite the tension in his frame, there was an odd focus in his movements, a determination to make himself useful even here, where everything was designed to kill.

“You’re terrible at hiding,” you said, stepping into view. Your voice broke the stillness like a crack of lightning, and he flinched violently, his hand jerking the snare out of place. His wide eyes darted to you, and for a split second, you saw fear flash across his face. But then recognition settled in, and his body relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhaled shakily.

Even so, you could see the doubt lingering in his expression, the silent question of whether you would keep your word. Whether you would protect him—or if the promise was as fragile as the alliances so many others had already shattered.

“I’m better at traps,” he said defensively, gesturing to the mangled snare. His voice wavered, but there was a thread of defiance woven through his words. “Not much use if I’m dead, though.”

You sighed, letting your gaze sweep over the dense forest. Every shadow felt like a threat, every rustle of leaves a prelude to attack. The arena’s oppressive atmosphere bore down on you, the Capitol’s eyes undoubtedly watching, waiting for a misstep.

“Come on,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost resigned. “Let’s find somewhere safer.”

He hesitated, glancing at the ruined snare before looking back at you. For a moment, you thought he might protest, insist on finishing what he’d started. But then he nodded, pushing himself to his feet and clutching the pack tightly.

As the two of you moved deeper into the forest, the unspoken understanding between you solidified. The arena was no place for trust, but in that moment, you both understood what was necessary. Spencer’s sharp mind and your strength would keep you alive—for now. Together, you were a tenuous partnership, forged in the fire of desperation, bound by the fragile hope of survival.

Days passed in a blur of relentless survival, the forest around you becoming both your sanctuary and your prison. Spencer’s quick thinking kept you ahead of the others, his mind proving sharper than any blade. He devised traps with a precision that belied the trembling of his hands. One night, a tripwire he rigged sent a sharpened branch hurtling toward a career tribute, the impact punctuated by the sharp, deafening boom of a cannon. You froze, listening as the sound echoed through the trees, a grim acknowledgment of another life taken.

But for all his brilliance, Spencer’s lack of combat skills was glaringly obvious. The fragility of your alliance was brutally highlighted when a career tribute ambushed your camp at dawn. You had been sharpening your axe when the attack came—a blur of movement and the glint of a blade in the weak morning light. Spencer had scrambled back, his hands flying up in instinctive defense, but it was you who stood between him and death.

The fight was savage and merciless. Your axe cleaved through the air with deadly precision, each swing driven by adrenaline and the primal need to survive. Blood sprayed across your face, warm and sticky, as you buried the blade deep into the career’s chest. The sickening crunch of bone gave way to silence, broken only by your ragged breathing.

You stood over the lifeless body, the axe slipping from your trembling hands, its handle slick with blood that dripped in slow, viscous trails down your arms. The metallic scent was overpowering, mingling with the damp earth beneath your feet. Spencer emerged from behind a tree, his face ashen and his glasses askew. He stared at the carnage with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and guilt.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice trembling, pitched higher than usual.

You wiped a streak of blood from your eyes with the back of your hand, spitting a glob of your own onto the ground. “Fine,” you said shortly, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you. “Let’s keep moving.”

The nights were the worst. The Capitol’s mutts prowled the forest, their distorted howls piercing the stillness and sending chills racing down your spine. The Gamemakers seemed to delight in tormenting the tributes, their traps and horrors pushing all of you to the brink. Spencer stayed close during those long, restless hours, his sharp mind constantly working to outthink the Capitol’s cruelty. But the strain of it all was evident. The sleepless nights, the gnawing hunger, the constant threat of death—it wore on both of you.

Sleep came in fleeting moments, and when it did, it brought no peace. Nightmares plagued you, images of blood-soaked battlefields and the cold, lifeless faces of those you had killed. You would wake with a start, your hand instinctively reaching for the axe by your side. Spencer, ever vigilant, would glance up from his notebook, offering a weak, wordless reassurance.

One night, as the oppressive silence stretched between you, he broke it. “You don’t have to stay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the distant rustle of leaves. He was hunched over his notebook again, the pen in his hand tapping rhythmically against its edge. “I know I’m just a liability. If you leave… you’d have a better chance.”

His words hit you harder than they should have, stirring an ache in your chest that you didn’t want to acknowledge. You scoffed, forcing a veneer of indifference. “Don’t be stupid,” you said, glancing down at the axe lying between your legs. The wood was stained a deep crimson, a grim testament to your survival. “You’d be dead in a minute.”

“Probably,” he admitted, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he seemed impossibly fragile. “But that doesn’t mean it’s fair to you—to have to carry my weight.”

You leaned forward, your eyes locking with his. His vulnerability was laid bare, and for a fleeting moment, you saw past the fear to the resolve underneath. “Fair doesn’t matter here,” you said, your voice firm. “Survival does. And you’re not dying on my watch, Reid.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, unspoken promises threading through the tension. Spencer didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on you, a quiet gratitude shining in his eyes. In the brutal reality of the arena, fairness was a luxury no one could afford. But in that moment, you knew you’d fight to keep him alive, even if it meant sacrificing a part of yourself.

The Gamemakers were growing impatient, their orchestrations more desperate and cruel. Walls of fire erupted in the forest, their heat searing and relentless, driving you and Spencer forward. Rivers swelled and burst their banks, churning torrents swallowing the land and leaving no room for retreat. The Capitol’s games were designed for spectacle, and now, they demanded a climactic confrontation.

It came in a clearing, a barren stretch of earth encircled by the towering trees that had once been your refuge. You and Spencer stood in the center, backs pressed together, the forest closing in around you. The air was electric with tension, heavy with the anticipation of violence. Your axe was clenched tightly in your hands, its familiar weight a lifeline in the chaos. Across the clearing, the last remaining tributes emerged from the shadows, their faces hard and eyes gleaming with a deadly determination.

The careers were relentless. Their movements were precise, their strikes calculated, honed by years of brutal training. They were predators, and you were their prey—but you refused to be cornered.

The first blow came from the left, a flash of steel aimed at your head. You ducked, swinging your axe upward in a wide arc that sent the attacker sprawling. Before you could strike again, another career was upon you, their weapon slashing toward your side. Spencer’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent.

“Y/N, duck!”

You dropped to the ground just as a handful of crushed leaves sailed over your head. The air ignited in a blinding flash, the chemical reaction disorienting your attackers. Spencer had discovered the trick earlier, his sharp mind identifying the properties of the plants scattered through the arena. It bought you precious seconds, enough to regain your footing and strike.

Your axe moved with ruthless efficiency, the weight of it an extension of your will to survive. It cleaved through the air, connecting with flesh and bone in a sickening symphony of destruction. Blood sprayed across the clearing, warm and sticky, coating your hands and arms as you fought with everything you had.

Spencer, though less skilled in combat, was no less vital. His quick thinking and unorthodox tactics kept you alive, each small advantage tipping the scales in your favor. He ducked and dodged, his movements frantic but purposeful, throwing dirt in an attacker’s eyes or tripping them with a hastily arranged snare.

The clearing became a battlefield, the ground slick with blood and churned by desperate footsteps. The coppery scent hung thick in the air, mingling with the earth’s damp tang and the acrid smoke from the Gamemakers’ fires. The cacophony of screams, grunts, and clashing steel reverberated through the forest, a grotesque chorus that seemed to echo endlessly.

Finally, the chaos began to subside. One by one, the careers fell, their arrogance and brutality no match for your combined determination. The last tribute standing faced you with defiance in their eyes, but their movements were sluggish, their strength waning. Your axe swung in a final, decisive arc, and the cannon’s resounding boom signaled the end.

As the clearing fell silent, you turned to Spencer. He stood hunched, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, his glasses smeared with dirt. Despite the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, his eyes met yours with a flicker of relief. For a fleeting moment, the two of you simply stood there, surrounded by the carnage, the enormity of what you’d just survived sinking in.

But you knew this wasn’t the end.

The forest loomed like a living nightmare, shadows twisting and stretching as if they sought to devour what little light dared to filter through the canopy. Every sound, every faint rustle of leaves, clawed at Spencer’s already frayed nerves. His breaths came shallow and ragged, his legs protesting with searing pain as he pushed through the dense undergrowth. Branches lashed at his arms and face, leaving thin, stinging cuts, but none of it registered.

All he could think about was you.

“Y/N!” he screamed again, his voice a raw echo of his mounting panic. The name reverberated through the forest only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence. His heart pounded erratically, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild thrum of his thoughts.

You were out there. Alone.

And then, like a cruel omen, he saw it—a trail of blood.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his body locking in place as he stared at the crimson streaks spattered across the dirt. His mind involuntarily cataloged the details: arterial spray, not a steady drip—suggesting deep, possibly fatal wounds. The sight rooted him with dread, but the desperate need to find you propelled him forward.

“Please,” he whispered under his breath, a fragile prayer to an indifferent world. “Please, not you.”

The blood led him deeper into the forest, the undergrowth thickening as the trail veered toward a small clearing. Sunlight filtered hesitantly through the branches above, dappling the ground in patches of gold that felt out of place against the grim tableau ahead. At first, the clearing seemed empty, just another cruel trick of the arena.

Then he saw you.

Spencer stumbled forward, the sight of your crumpled body hitting him like a physical blow. You were slumped against a tree, your form unnaturally still, streaked with dirt and blood. The once vibrant color of your skin was replaced by a deathly pallor, your chest rising and falling so faintly that he nearly missed it.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, and he fell to his knees beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your battered frame as if afraid his touch might make things worse.

Your injuries were horrifying. Deep, angry gashes carved into your side, your clothes soaked with drying blood. Bruises bloomed across your face, dark and angry, nearly obscuring your features. Your lips were cracked and dry, the faintest tremble the only sign of life.

“Please, no,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he pressed his fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse. The moment he felt the faint, fragile beat beneath his fingertips, a sob broke free from his chest.

“You’re alive,” he murmured, tears spilling freely down his face. “Thank God, you’re alive.”

But the relief was fleeting. The blood around you was too much, the wounds too deep. A surge of helplessness clawed at him, and his hands hovered, unsure where to start. His mind, usually so quick and sharp, felt sluggish, drowned in panic and fear.

“Y/N, wake up,” he pleaded, his hands trembling as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed against the streaks of blood and dirt marring your skin. “Please, I need you to wake up.”

A faint groan escaped your lips, the soft sound pulling him from the edge of despair. Your eyelids fluttered, struggling against the weight of exhaustion and pain. Finally, your eyes opened, glassy and unfocused, but alive.

“Spencer?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse and weak, but it was enough.

“I’m here,” he choked out, his tears falling unchecked. “I’m here, Y/N. I thought I’d lost you.”

Your gaze slowly sharpened, focusing on him through the haze of pain. “What… happened?”

“You were attacked,” he said, his voice breaking. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “I failed you.”

You weakly lifted a hand, your fingers brushing against his. He caught it immediately, holding it tightly as though letting go would mean losing you again. “You couldn’t have known,” you murmured, your voice soft but resolute.

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, his fear spilling out as frustration. “Don’t act like it’s okay. It’s not—I can’t—” His voice faltered, cracking under the weight of his emotions. He looked away, his shoulders trembling.

“Spencer.” Your voice, though faint, cut through the storm inside him.

He turned back to you, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours. Even in your battered state, there was a flicker of strength in your gaze, a reminder of why he couldn’t fall apart.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me going, Y/N. You’re the only thing that matters.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, mingling with the blood and grime. Despite the pain, you managed a faint smile. “You’re not going to lose me,” you said softly.

Spencer leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His fingers tangled in your hair, careful of your injuries. “Promise me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me you’ll stay.”

“I promise,” you whispered back, though your voice wavered with exhaustion.

For a moment, the horrors of the arena receded, leaving only the two of you in the fragile stillness of the clearing. Spencer clung to that moment, to the fragile hope that it could last. But deep down, he knew the arena’s cruelty wouldn’t allow it.

Spencer cradled you against him, his arms encircling your fragile, battered body like a shield against the arena’s relentless cruelty. Each of your shallow breaths, brushing faintly against his neck, felt like a fragile thread tethering him to hope. The world around you seemed to pause, the usual cacophony of the arena muted to nothing but the gentle rustle of leaves and the haunting, distant growls of the Capitol’s muttations.

His heart pounded as he finally pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. The dim light filtering through the trees illuminated the anguish and resolve in his expression. His eyes, filled with a fierce determination, searched yours as though he could absorb your pain and bear it for you.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and trembling with conviction. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever again.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the grime and blood streaked across your skin. Despite the searing pain coursing through your injuries, you leaned into his touch, craving the connection and comfort he offered. The way he looked at you, with a mix of tenderness and desperation, made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just survival that drove him—it was you.

“Spencer,” you murmured, your voice raw but steady enough to convey the depth of your feelings. “You saved me.”

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it was tinged with sadness. “You saved me first,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. The horrors of the arena melted away, leaving only the two of you in a fragile bubble of shared understanding. Without hesitation, Spencer leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was as desperate as it was tender. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a promise, and a plea all at once. Every unspoken word of fear, gratitude, and love found its voice in that fleeting moment.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, the quiet mingling of your breaths grounding you both. Spencer’s voice was raw when he spoke again, the vulnerability in his words laying his heart bare. “I love you,” he whispered, the confession slipping free like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

Your hand found his, your fingers intertwining with his as though they were meant to fit together. “I love you too,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice making the moment feel almost sacred.

Though the kiss and the confession hung between you like a protective shield, reality pressed back in. Spencer glanced around, his sharp mind already assessing the next steps. He helped you to your feet with painstaking care, his touch gentle but firm as he ensured you wouldn’t collapse. “We need to find shelter,” he said, his tone decisive. “You need rest, and I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Together, you stumbled through the dense underbrush, Spencer’s arm steadying you every step of the way. He moved with deliberate caution, his every thought focused on your survival. After what felt like an eternity, you came upon a hollow nestled beneath the sprawling roots of a massive tree. It wasn’t much—a dark, cramped space hidden from sight—but in the arena, it was a sanctuary.

Spencer guided you inside, his every movement a careful balance between urgency and gentleness. Once he was sure you were settled, he set to work, his trembling hands tending to your wounds with an almost reverent care. Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, his focus never wavered.

The night descended upon the arena with a heavy, oppressive silence, the darkness pressing in like a living thing. Inside the hollow, you both finally allowed yourselves to rest. Spencer pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around you as though sheer will alone could keep the horrors at bay.

“Sleep,” he murmured against your hair, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “I’ll keep watch.”

Your hand clutched at the fabric of his shirt, a weak but determined gesture. “No,” you whispered, your voice resolute despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “We’ll keep watch together.”

But the adrenaline that had fuelled you both through the day ebbed away, replaced by an unbearable fatigue. Sleep claimed you both, drawing you into its embrace. In the warmth of Spencer’s arms, the terror of the arena faded, leaving behind the steady rhythm of shared breaths and the fragile hope that, for at least a few precious hours, you were safe.

The cannon echoed in the distance, signaling the death of the second-to-last tribute. Spencer’s heart sank as the reality settled over him. It was just the two of you now.

You turned to him, bloodied and exhausted, your eyes wide with the same realization. “Spencer…”

“There can only be one,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

The Capitol’s anthem blared overhead, and the cold voice of the announcer filled the air. “Congratulations to our final two tributes! Only one may claim victory—who will it be?”

The unspoken command hung heavy between you, suffocating in its finality.

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I can’t do it, Spencer. I won’t.”

“And I won’t hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “But there’s no other way. They won’t let us both walk out of here.”

“Then we find a way to beat them!” you cried, desperation lacing your voice. “We’ll refuse. We’ll—”

Spencer grabbed your shoulders gently but firmly, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been lucky to make it this far, but there’s no beating them. Not like this.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip didn’t falter. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head frantically. “No, we can survive this together. We’ll figure it out. We—”

“Y/N.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You have to live. I need you to live.”

Your breath hitched, panic rising as you saw something in his expression—a quiet determination, a resolve that shattered your heart. “Spencer, no. Don’t you dare.”

He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. “You are everything good in this world,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “You deserve to live. You deserve to go home.”

“I can’t go home without you!” you cried, your hands clutching his shirt as if holding him could anchor him here, with you.

Spencer leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss filled with all the love and sorrow he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and shaky.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Before you could react, he stepped back, his hands slipping from your grasp. Your heart dropped as he picked up the knife you’d discarded moments earlier.

“Spencer, don’t!” you screamed, scrambling toward him, but he shook his head.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I love you.”

And then, before you could stop him, he turned the blade on himself.

“NO!”

You caught him as he collapsed, cradling him in your arms. Blood soaked through your hands, and your sobs tore through the quiet of the arena. His breathing was shallow, his lips trembling as he tried to speak.

“I… couldn’t let it be you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You have to win. Promise me… promise me you’ll live.”

“Spencer, please,” you begged, clutching him tightly. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

But his eyes fluttered closed, and with one last ragged breath, the cannon boomed.

The hovercraft descended moments later, and you didn’t resist as they pried Spencer from your arms. His blood was on your hands, your clothes, and your soul, and yet you couldn’t muster the strength to fight them. The Capitol’s voice returned, dispassionate and final, declaring you the victor. The words echoed through the cold, metallic space around you, hollow and meaningless.

You were the last one standing. The survivor.

But at what cost?

The world blurred as the medical team swarmed you, their hands prodding and pulling, their antiseptic words promising you safety and care. None of it mattered. Your eyes stayed fixed on Spencer’s limp form as they wheeled him away, disappearing behind a sterile door. The emptiness he left behind was suffocating.

He had sacrificed himself so you could live.

The words repeated in your mind, a haunting mantra that clawed at your sanity. The memory of his final smile, soft and full of love even as his life slipped away, seared itself into your soul. You wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice of it all, but you felt hollow. Numb.

The hovercraft docked, and the transition from the arena’s horrors to the Capitol’s opulence was jarring. Lavish rooms, bright lights, and hollow congratulations assaulted your senses. The Capitol citizens cheered your name, their voices clashing in an orchestra of sickening delight. You barely heard them.

Snow himself greeted you, his snake-like smile as unnerving as ever. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice laced with a false warmth. “You’re a symbol of strength, of survival. The Capitol admires your resilience.”

Your response was a vacant stare.

Days blurred into nights as you went through the motions. The Victory Tour loomed, a macabre parade meant to celebrate your survival while parading the Capitol’s power. But all you could think about was Spencer—the way he had looked at you, the way his voice had trembled when he said goodbye.

In the privacy of your room, you allowed yourself to grieve. The tears came in silent waves, unstoppable and all-consuming. You clutched the token he’d worn—a simple bracelet made of knotted twine—now yours to carry. It was the only piece of him you had left.

They called you a hero, but you felt like a thief. You had stolen his chance to live, even if he’d willingly handed it over.

On the day of your first public appearance, you stood before a crowd of Capitol citizens, their faces painted with mock sympathy and admiration. The weight of your loss bore down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its enormity.

“I survived the arena,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But survival isn’t victory. Not when it costs everything.”

The crowd applauded, oblivious to the truth in your words. But somewhere, deep within you, a spark ignited—a quiet, simmering rage.

Spencer had believed in you, even in his final moments. He had given you a chance to live, to fight for something more than just survival. And while the Capitol celebrated its spectacle, you made a promise to yourself.

You would not let his sacrifice be in vain.

You would remember him.

And one day, you would ensure that no one else would have to pay the price he had.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #missarchive

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eudemonia13 · 3 months ago

Text

Light in the darkness

Solomon x Reader

Light angst. W.C. 1099 Solomon thinks about his adorable aprentice as they rest beside him.

He saw light in you, passed the glimmer of sunlight on your skin as you bathed in the warm rays of your home world, passed the brilliance of neon signs and late night artificial rainbows that painted your eyes a stunning palette of colour, shades he would chase in his dreams as his subconscious processed yet another memory of you.

An abstract keepsake that he would hold onto as long as he lived. When he had long forgotten the grassy fields, the taste of salt and sugar, when the last drop of his blood had dried. When the death of the world and the collapse of the sun had claimed the last slivers of light, he would remember you.

Tucked away with all the other parts of you he held dear. His thoughts were a kaleidoscope of you. The movements, the laughter, the rhythm of your heart beating. Everything stored away in the most precious archives of his mind.

No, he saw it there in the darkest nights of the Devildom.

Bright and soft as the dawn, light that emanated from you like the warmth from your skin as he rested in your arms. It enveloped him and cast the shadows in his mind into slumber.

He loved you, he loved you in ways that felt like sparks and fire. A firework, piercing the darkness with a violence that could only be human. So fleeting, and yet you burned yourself into the entire realm's consciousness like an afterimage, trails of fading sparks that still glowed as they rained from high. A fraction of time that outshone the dim embers of eternity.

He used to sparkle, he used to glow. And he still did, the hunger in the demon’s eyes told him as much. The subtle glances the angels passed behind his back when he was once allowed entry into the Celestial realm told him as much. There was still enough left in him to want, to covet and bide their time over as turn after turn of the games they played went on.

Solomon smiled, a reflex that had rooted into him and pulled the corners of his lips into an unreadable neutrality, a defence given to him by the slow erosion of millenia uncounted. Hard learned lessons like waves rolling the sharpest rocks into smooth, flawless stones, he had lost that earnest part of him to the oceans long ago.

What he felt, the vulnerability and timid honesty of his feelings even here when he was alone with his thoughts, was too intimidating to show without a mask. So he smiled to himself in the darkness of his room.

He used to sparkle, like you did now.

Still warm, still forgiving even as beings far beyond your reach played over you like a prize, like a bet. Like you weren’t human. Still bright, still shining.

He pulled you closer, tucking his head against your shoulder as you slept, chest falling in gentle crests, like waves rolling over him with every rise and fall. Time had no hold on him, not here. Not with you.

His dearest, his confidant, his…

What was he to you? Surely, he meant at least something to you. But in a room of flushed faces, of hands reaching out to you… How close was he to your light?

A Prince, strong and unmoving to the little problems that once battered him in his youth. He was safe, he was luxury and adventure and lightheartedness, still after everything in his long, long life. Passion and elegance… And knowing you would always come second to the inevitable need of his people.

A Demon, as capable, as beautiful and loyal as he was prideful. Having made his place in the Devildom from what was once scorn and misery, but now stood as one of the most powerful and respected Devildom Elite? Who offered you seduction, and complete ownership over his heart and soul? At least… So long as you could withstand his heart being locked behind the burden of pride, and obligations that could never be put off for more than a night before he would be buried by paperwork yet again.

And his brothers, demons of high regard all their own. But he hardly needed to slander any of them to highlight their glaringly obvious shortfalls.

An Angel, kind and devoted, cunning and artful in everything he does. He was warm, and soft like spring rain, dewy and beautiful and calming to even your soul itself. He would give every part of himself to you and not ask for anything more than your happiness. And yet he was forever shadowed by the choices he had made, and had not made, and the knowledge of what would come from those fateful decisions… But truly, what could he say against Simeon? That he was bad with technology and he was afraid of the terrifying and confusing future ahead of him? Solomon knew that what his friend offered you could hardly be painted as ‘bad’ in even the harshest light.

Was that cruel of him? To weave his words and sharpen his tongue against those he has come to think of as friends? Even in the seclusion of his mind, could he take that from you? Could he appear just a little bit better, here, where none could hear him?

Solomon, the wise. Solomon, the witty sorcerer. Solomon, protector of Humanity. Solomon, who loved you with all his heart. Who had protected you when you were nothing but a defenceless human thrown to the wolves of the Devildom that first year of the exchange program. Solomon, who had risked the fate of the human realm just so that you may not hate him for the awful choice that must be made. Who had put the fate of everything he had devoted his immortal life to protecting, into your hands knowing full well that you might not choose what he would.

Solomon, who looked at you and saw everything he loved, everything he had sworn to protect and cherish deep in his heart where nothing could take it from him again.

Solomon, who loved you knowing he would lose you too.

And Solomon, the manipulative, the wolf in sheep's clothing, the untrustworthy sham of a sorcerer who used and conned anyone he could benefit from. Solomon, the human who had lost his humanity. Solomon, the liar. Solomon, the demon.

He wondered, silently. Wordlessly as his hands shook with the slightest tremble as he pulled you against him even tighter. His Light, his Truth… His Protector.

Who was he to you?

#obey me x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me angst

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hlstead · 1 year ago

Note

“is that my sweater you’re wearing” with young snow pleaseee 😫

sweater weather - young!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: no use of YN

all my works are poc friendly.

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The restaurant's ambiance glowed warmly as Coriolanus Snow and I settled into our reserved table. It had been a taxing day at the mentor center, the weight of the Hunger Games heavy on Coriolanus' shoulders. Yet, as he sat across from me, the lines of stress seemed to soften, replaced by a quiet calm.

I greeted him with a smile, grateful for this chance to share a quiet evening away from the demands. The clinking of silverware and the murmur of hushed conversations provided a comforting backdrop to our own.

Coriolanus studied me with those perceptive eyes, a glimmer of curiosity in their steel-blue depths.

"You look like you've had a long day," he observed, concern etching lines on his forehead.

I nodded, letting out a soft sigh. "It's been challenging, but being here with you makes it all better."

As we delved into a menu filled with decadent choices, a momentary lapse allowed me to steal a glance at Coriolanus. He was engrossed in the menu, contemplating the options with a furrowed brow. I seized the opportunity to slip into the comforting warmth of his sweater, draped over the back of my chair.

When Coriolanus returned his attention to me, his gaze flickered down to the unexpected addition to my attire. A playful smile played on his lips.

"Is that my sweater you're wearing?"

Caught in the act, I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, a hint of mischief in my tone. "It just seemed so inviting, and I needed a bit of comfort."

Coriolanus' smile deepened, and he leaned back in his chair. "Well, you wear it well," he remarked, his eyes lingering on me with a warmth that went beyond the simple act of sharing clothing.

Throughout the evening, the restaurant transformed into a haven where our conversation flowed freely, interspersed with laughter and stolen glances. The flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow on Coriolanus' face, revealing facets of him that transcended the most knowing ones.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas imagine #tbosas x reader #thg imagine #the hunger games imagine

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lovebeinaprincessworld · 2 years ago

Text

Hopeful Love (Cato Hadley x reader)

Description: The arena was horrifying, but with Cato by your side - maybe you could make it through everything?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

Warnings: death, blood, wounds, the typical hunger games stuff

7515 words

It felt like a fever dream - like it wasn’t really happening. The moment Aspasia had hugged you and the platform started moving, your heart was beating out of your chest, and not in a good way. The light was blinding for a moment and then you took in the arena. The biggest part of it was a forest and there was also a big grass portion where the cornucopia was located.

Your attention snapped back to the other tributes, some looked more than ready to finally kill and some looked like they wanted to kill themselves. The cornucopia was filled with things, less and less of them strewn around the farther they laid from it. They also seemed to be less useful the further one went from it.

And finally your brain kicked in a little, your eyes moving over the other tributes searching for Cato. He was exactly opposite to you, and his eyes were already locked onto you in determination. This was probably the worst possible distance for his plan (the one of you running towards him) and you were sure your chances of making it at the moment were like 30 percent or less. If you died hopefully it would be quick, but you would try to make it - for him.

You could see the countdown was already at 16 and you took a deep breath to ready yourself for the sprint, listening to the steady rhythm of the numbers going down. You were honestly curious how the people watching would take Cato trying to protect you - nobody knew anything about you two yet, how could they?

The countdown was getting lower and lower and you felt like you were about to throw up when it reached 3. You braced yourself to jump down from the platform. 2. You took a deep breath. 1. You really hoped you wouldn’t catch a knife to the back - and then you were running. It was like you were on autopilot, putting one foot in front of the other and towards Cato who was running even faster - considering he was way taller that made sense.

You were almost there, and you really thought you would make it - when suddenly someone tackled you from the right. In retrospect you should’ve been more aware of your surroundings, but what shocked you the most that on top of you and trying to grab you neck was Taron, your own district partner. You had no idea he hated you so much he made it his mission to kill you first. You tried to keep his hands off your throat, but when he finally got a good grip he was ripped off of you.

Cato was determined to keep you alive. Fuck, he had never run this fast in his life and when he almost reached you that son of a bitch from your district seriously tried to take you from him. Foolish. He ripped him off with ease, taking his head between his big hands and breaking his neck with a controlled snap of his hands. One person less.

He pulled you up immediately, taking your hand in his firmly and making his way towards the cornucopia. He picked up a long knife and a small one on the way, giving you the small one and ending every tribute that came near you two with the other. You knew his weapon of choice was a sword but you hadn’t been close enough to the cornucopia yet.

The other careers had already brought the cornucopia under their control, so once you arrived there, the other tributes were either dead or they already ran away. You were shocked that you had honestly made it, still kind of on edge by the way Clove, Marvel and Glimmer were eyeing you, but you knew as long as Cato stuck to your side you were relatively safe - as safe as one can be in the arena.

Cato pulled you into the cornucopia - the other three rummaging through the things in the entrance - and when you were at least a little shielded he pulled you into a bonecrushing hug. You could almost hear Caeser Flickerman commenting in your ear. „Cato“, you whispered, you were surprised he was willing to show this much emotion in front of the camera.

The tall career was honestly a little worried that his feelings for you would damage his hardened career image and offend the sponsors - but on the other hand he was in an arena fighting with others until death. So he didn’t really give a shit, he was just so incredibly happy that you were safe for now and he couldn’t control himself, he had to hold you close, even just for a moment.

When you mumbled his name, pressed against his chest, he gently kissed your forehead before hesitantly letting you go. Eventhough the bloodbath was over for now, you were still relatively out in the open right now and he needed to sort out the supplies and plan with the others. He drank in your pretty face for another moment and without words (he was never the biggest talker and especially not in a situation like that) he pulled you along to sort through the equipment.

—————————

You were quiet, now that the adrenaline was gone and all the death and killing that happened was sinking into your brain you had to concentrate on your breathing to not freak out. You knew Cato wasn’t affected by this nearly as much as you - he was trained for this after all. But the lifeless eyes of the other tributes, the ones that trained next to you for a week, haunted you. And when the canons went off after the bloodbath it felt final. You were really right in the middle of the hunger games.

The Careers were building a camp down by the river and the meadow and you were mindlessly carrying stuff from the cornucopia over there with Cato. The others were leaving you alone, but you knew that if it wasn’t for Cato you would be dead for sure. Two of the Careers - Glimmer and Marvel - were scouting the closest parts of the forest to find tributes who may have lingered around. You had one ally more, a boy who claimed he could dig up the mines from around the cornucopia and bury them around your food stash so it would be safe.

Once the others seemed satisfied with everything you sat down around the camp, Clove in one corner playing with her knives and facing the forest and you and Cato in the shade in the back, while Noah (that was the other tributes name) was still moving the mines. „How are you feeling?“, Cato was talking as quiet as possible, but it probably still would be picked up by the cameras.

He had just put down the last bag and sat down next to you, his eyes scanning your form, his hand reaching for yours gently. Crazy to think how he easily murdered multiple people a few hours ago and now the same hands were so soft with you. „I’m okay, don’t worry“, you gave him your best attempt at a smile, but he looked only partly convinced. How could you truly be okay though? The carefree nights on the rooftop seemed so far away.

Cato wanted to say more, but he didn’t want your private conversation to be broadcasted for everyone to hear, so he just nodded and pulled you into his side with one arm. He kissed your temple carefully, trying to convey his thoughts like that - and simultaneously fighting the urge to kiss you for real. He decided he would postpone that to when it was dark, and their was at least a minimal amount of privacy.

Suddenly Glimmer and Marcel broke out of the treeline, and with them was another person - still alive that is. They came closer and when your recognized the other tribute you sat up straight in surprise. „Peeta?“, you mumbled to yourself and you could feel Catos arm around you thighten. „What’s he doing here?“, Cato barked when they were close enough, standing up and pulling his sword out.

„Calm down lover boy“, Marvel rolled his eyes and walked over to Clove. „He‘s our best shot at finding the chick from his District“, Glimmer explained, picking up and apple from the bag and eating it. „Watch it District 12, one wrong move and it’s over“, Cato warned Peeta with a rough voice and gave him a dark stare before sitting down next to you again, a protective hand on your thigh. Peeta just nodded and they started planning the hunt for Katniss.

————————

Tracking through the dark forest that night, you felt like throwing up. This was all so wrong, Katniss had helped you - considering the weird circumstances she was probably your only friend(ly contact) next to Cato and you were walking through the woods trying to find and kill her. Not that you would be the one to do it, but you were with them, weren’t you? Cato held your hand tightly as if afraid something might happen if he let go for only a second.

And maybe it might, because his hand was literally the only thing stopping you from full on panicking and running away. What was the future perspective here anyway? Only one would leave this arena alive. The other three (except Peeta, who seemed just as unsure as you and Cato who was looking all serious) were joking around and having fun and it only made the whole situation more bizarre.

Suddenly Glimmer squeaked excitedly and when you followed her gaze, you could see a fire in the distance. „The fuck, who would be so stupid“, Marvel was cackling and you took a deep breath when you walked towards the fire, knowing what was to follow. The girl didn’t realize the group was there until Marvel was standing directly behind her, and her face was that of pure horror. You looked away, but the bloodcurling scream would never leave your memory. If Cato didn’t fall for you, this could’ve been you.

The canon went off and you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto Catos arm until he pulled you away from the scene. „Sorry“, you whispered and he just calmly squeezed your hand. You were glad he was calm enough for the both of you, always grounding you and protecting you.

After a few more hours and tips from Peeta, you gave up for the night and settled back down in your camp. Clove took first watch and Cato pulled you away to your private corner, settling down on the ground between a few boxes. He leaned against a heavy one and pulled you in between his legs - just like he did on the rooftop. It was dark here, a little bit of light filtering through form the fire, but you felt the tension leave you for the most part when you were tucked into his chest.

„You will be okay, I promise“, Cato whispered close to your ear and somehow that made you so emotional, made you feel like he understood your struggle with all of this without you having to say anything and you had to fight back tears for the first time since you had met him. „I love you“, you whispered back, not knowing what else to say and hoping it would be enough. You could feel him gently lift your chin towards him and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

———————

It had been two days since that night and the other Careers were obsessed with finding Katniss. You hadn’t had the chance to talk with Peeta yet, but you felt his eyes on you sometimes, making you wonder what it was he wanted. And when the others were arguing about which direction Katniss would most likely be in, Cato had stepped away from you for a second and Peeta seized the opportunity.

„So, you and Cato huh?“, he smiled and stepped next to you, „Katniss told me she already suspected something at training.“ You blushed a little at the thought of the other tributes talking about you two. „Yeah, Cato and me“, you smiled too, „and you and Katniss right? At least it seemed like it“. His smiled was fading a little, and you guessed he felt guilty for trying to help the Careers kill her, when he obviously had feelings for her. Her, you weren’t so sure if this was true.

„Yeah I guess the survival instincts kick in“, he lamely explained, but you guessed the underlying message was, that he wasn’t really helping the Careers, just biding his time until he could run off. You could understand that. „I guess“, you sighed, the look you two shared in understanding was interrupted by a mad looking Cato. „Piss off 12“, he growled and pulled you close by the waist, Peeta raised his hands in surrender and walked off with a small smile towards you.

„What did he want?“, Cato gruffly asked with furrowed eyebrows and squeezed your waist, his other hand on the handle of his sword. „Nothing“, you smiled and stood on your tiptoed to kiss his jaw, making him grumble but relent.

You set off on another hunt for Katniss, and had only walked a few minutes next to the river when suddenly Marvel discovered her in the water. Shit. She looked just as shocked as you probably did and if Cato wouldn’t have pulled you along you would have remained there. The Careers followed her through the woods and you were sure you had to witness her death now, when she climbed a tree.

Glimmer missed with her bow and they were getting agitated when Cloves eyes fell on you. „You’re small, can’t you climb up there?“, she grinned evilly and was probably hoping you would either get killed by Katniss or the fall down there. You were about to answer when Cato spoked up. „I’ll do it“, he grunted. „Cato, I can-", you started to say, he didn’t have to do everything for you, you were really starting to feel bad. „No“, he interrupted you without looking at you and laid down his equipment before starting to climb the tree.

You looked at him worriedly, he was way too heavy and tall to climb up a tree like that. And as if you called it, one branch broke and he fell, taking several other branches with him. „Cato! You okay?“, you kneeled next to him, but he just got up with a grunt and glared up a the tree, while you were checking him for injuries.

„Let’s just wait here, she has to come down at some point if she doesn’t want to starve“, Peeta suggested and unhappily the others agreed, climbing up was out of question now that Cato took all the usable branches with him.

———————

You had been laying awake in Catos arms for what felt like hours, your mind running through all the horrible things that had happened or will happen. The thought that Katniss sat up there right now, fearing for her life (just like probably everyone else in this arena) and you were part of the group that was the reason for that, made you sick. All the other deaths were bad, but you didn’t know them. Katniss? Katniss had been nice to you, showing you how to make fire and how to set up traps eventhough she didn’t owe you anything.

Silently sighing you looked up to the sky, the sun started to rise half an hour ago. The other thought that was bothering you, was that it was either you or Cato making it out alive. It wouldn’t be both of you. And considering your chances of survival without him, it would most likely be him. And he was so thickheaded, he would never leave you out of his sight voluntarily, meaning that in the end it would be either him that would have to kill you, or one of you had to sacrifice themselves.

And you sure as hell didn’t want him to die, and neither did you want him to live with your death on his consciousness. A silent tear escaped your eye when you accepted what you had to do. Now was the perfect opportunity to leave. He would be incredibly angry, but you would rather he be angry than either of you having to live with the guilt.

The others were sleeping around you, and you carefully peeled yourself out of Catos arms, sitting up next to him. He didn’t move, and you looked at him for a long moment, before softly kissing his cheek and standing up as quiet as possible. You made sure the others were still asleep and grabbed your small backpack (with your waterbottle, knives and some food) before silently walking towards the edge of the clearing. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking back one more time and you immediately regretted it.

Cato was awake and sitting up, looking at you with a scowl on his face and tense muscles. Your face fell and you went rigid for a second, before tears filled your eyes and you just gently shook your head, mouthing „I’m sorry“ before taking off. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to see you, and he would most likely follow you now. You still had to try though.

Catos heart felt like it would jump out of his chest. What the hell were you doing? He sensed you were feeling guilty and overwhelmed but he didn’t think you would try to leave. Try being the main point here, because he sure as hell wouldn’t let you. When you mouthed you were sorry, something inside of him snapped and he jumped up as quietly as he could, grabbing his stuff and following you into the forest. He couldn’t do this without you, the only reason he even tried anymore was you.

Tears were running down your cheeks as you made your way through the thicket and you had to surpress a sob when you heard Cato following behind you. You were about ten meters infront of him, but you knew you could never outrun him, no chance. He let you get a little farther, probably to make sure you were far enough from the others, before closing in on you.

You had just made your way between a rock formation and you could hear a small stream nearby when he grabbed your upper arm and hauled you around, trapping you between his big body and the boulder behind you. „What the hell do you think you’re doing?“, he was visibly angry, but tried not you raise his voice and you refused to meet his gaze.

„Let me go Cato“, you whispered, and you meant it in more than the literal sense in that moment. It would be easier if he would forget about you. „Never! Do you hear me? (Y/N) I will never let you go“, he sounded almost desperate and his hands left your arms, one grabbing your waist tightly and the other cradling your jaw.

He hated how you were refusing to look at him, you were the only thing he fucking cared about anymore and you almost left him. You wanted him to let you go. „Why would you even say that? Without you I wouldn’t…I can’t even…“, he was so panicked at the thought of losing your he couldn’t find the words, but you finally met his eyes, „I love you so much baby, please don’t leave me I need you.“

Your heart almost broke for the man infront of you, and simultaneously you felt so much love for him at that moment. „Cato“, you were slightly overwhelmed and your hands softly cupped his cheeks in an attempt to calm him down, „it’s easier if I go, I don’t want it to come down to us two. Better I be killed by someone else isn’t it?“ Suddenly his lips were on yours, desperate and firm and you could only whimper and return it with as much passion. How could you ever think he wouldn’t have hunted you down, no matter how far you went?

Cato pulled back for air and the both of you were panting. „Don’t say that. Never…never say that“, he sounded liked he was in agony and you hated yourself for doing this to him. „But-“, you tried to reason with him. „Don’t“, he growled and pulled you impossibly closer kissing you again, and you sighed softly, thinking in the back of your mind what a great show you were giving the audience. But neither of you cared anymore.

Suddenly Cato flinched and let out a pained hiss, making your heartbeat rise in worry. He turned around quickly, shielding you with his body and then you could see the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Glimmer. „You’re betraying us already?“, the blonde called out from the top of the opposite boulder you two were leaning against, another arrow readied. Please, please don’t let him die.

Before any of you could react, there were suddenly screams coming from the direction of the other Careers and Cato seized the opportunity. He reached up quickly with his uninjured arm and because Glimmer was distracted he yanked her down roughly by her ankle. With a scream she came crashing down losing the grip on her bow and with a fast movement of his wrist the pretty girls trashing stopped and the canon went off.

„Come one we have to go“, Cato says, and you were still stunned by what just happened in the matter of a few seconds. Then the two of you were off, quickly running through the forest.

—————————

You and Cato had run through the forest as far as he could go with his arm, until you had singled out a really big oak, climbing up to see if you could settle there. The middle of the treetop was shaped like a small circular floor and after Cato managed to climb up the tree - which was way harder for him than for you - it was perfect for you two as a camp.

Cato looked really pale now, the arrow sticking out the front of his shoulder and you were so in over your head. „Shit, I think we have to pull it through love“, you said, your aunt was working as a nurse and a little bit seemed to have stuck with you. He just nodded, and you got out a shirt you had taken as a spare and ripped it in stripes, to immediately wrap his wound once you cleaned it.

„This is gonna hurt“, you softly stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes. You gave him an encouraging kiss and he chased your lips when you pulled away, before you took a deep breath and fought your inner restraints and carefully but quickly pulled the arrow through. He groaned in pain, throwing his head back and holding onto your hip so tightly you were sure it would bruise.

As soon as the arrow was out, you quickly took of his shirt, cleaned the wound with water - you didn’t have anything else on you - and wrapped it tightly with the ripped shirt. The bleeding wasn’t as profusely as you had anticipated, so that means there was probably no major artery hit. „Rest now, I think we’re safe here for now“, you kissed his sweaty cheek and helped him lay down comfortably with his backpack as a pillow.

You settled down next to him, and you thought he was asleep when he suddenly grasped your hand. „Don’t leave“, his voice was raspy and his eyes half closed, but he still looked scared you would try to leave again. „Never, I promise“, you leaned down and softly kissed his lips, „I’m sorry I tried to.“ He smiled a little and squeezed your hand. „I love you“, he whispered and then he was out like a light.

————————

It’s been days up in that tree, and Cato seemed to being doing worse and worse. You two had enough food and you went down to the stream nearby to fill up the water daily, but you didn’t have any adequate medication for his wound. And it was really infected, the edges a glowing red and everytime you cleaned it there came more pus out of it. Cato was sleeping most of the time and when he was awake he seemed mostly lucid and was worrying about you. Which was ironic, because he was the one who needed the worrying.

And worry you did. There wasn’t much you could do, and you hated it. „Here baby you need to drink“, you woke Cato up gently, and he was burning up. Before he could say anything, your evening was interrupted by an announcement from the Gamemakers.

„Attention tributes, attention. The regulations requiring a single victor have been suspended. For these games stand under the star of romance, the Capitol wants to give love a chance. From now on, four victors may be crowned, but only if they consist of two pairs of one male and one female tribute. This will be all announcements.“

You and Cato were silent for a moment, before his good hand gripped your hip where you were sitting next to him. „Fuck baby, that means we could both go home“, he rasped and you were still not registering what that meant, but let yourself be pulled down by him into a messy kiss. „That’s…that’s great“, you gave him your best smile, trying to hide your worries for now. How the hell were you supposed to get his wound to heal? Or the other option - even more unlikely - how were you supposed to win this for the both of you? Damn.

—————————

Cato got even worse over the next day and his breathing was labored. You had shed a few tears when he was unconscious, but tried to pull yourself together for him. But you were helpless, until there was another announcement.

„Attention, tributes, attention. Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something desperately. And we plan to be generous hosts.“

Medicine. It had to be something that would heal Cato from the gaping wound in his shoulder. „You’re not going“, you didn’t even hear him wake up, but even this weak he sounded dominant. „Yes I will, you need medicine“, you almost rolled your eyes and he scowled at you, sitting up in great agony before you could stop him.

„What are you doing? Lay back down Cato!“, you exclaimed, moving closer but he swatted your hands away. „You will not go to the feast, you’d be dead in a heartbeat. Clove’s still out there, and so is Thresh, I won’t let you“, he grunted, pale and shivering. „Good thing I didn’t ask for your permission then“, you snapped, „you’ll be dead if I don’t go, and it’s only a matter of time that I die then, so no argument you’ll tell me will make me change my mind.“

Cato hated that you were so right. He was slipping in and out of consciousness the last days and to be honest he knew you were right. He just didn’t want to lose you, eventhough he had realized from the start that it would come to that point. But now there was a possibility for the both of you to go home and this stupid infected wound was fucking it all up. The thought of dying and leaving you alone in here, and the thought of you dying were equally painful.

„Fuck“, he cursed, the pain in his shoulder becoming to great to sit up anymore and he laid back down, „please just…let me hold you til sunrise then?“ Your face immediately softened and the now familiar tingling flared up in his stomach at your smile - despite his pain. „Of course baby“, you blushed a little, and he loved that eventhough you were in an arena fighting other people til death, he could make you flustered.

You laid down your head on his good shoulder and he turned onto his side a little, catching you offguard when he captured your lips in a ravishing kiss. „I wish we weren’t in here and I wish I wasn’t sick right now“, he growled in your ear when he pulled away, and you looked up at him shyly when you realized what he meant. „Me too“, you whispered, your hand stroking his cheek before kissing him gently.

————————

You decided against saying goodbye to Cato, he fell asleep all smiley and with several more kisses shared between you and if you died you wanted to leave him with that memory. Fuck, if you died that would’ve meant he died too, so you had to give it your all. You secured the bigger of your two knives in your belt and smaller in your hand and took a look back at the sleeping lover you would leave behind for now.

Then you made it down the tree and carefully tracked through the dark forest, way earlier than needed just to make sure you would make it in time. Once you reached the clearing the cornucopia was in, you settled down in a bush and alertly watched your surroundings.

It must have been over an hour, when the sun started to rise and after a few more minutes a table with five bags on it came out of the ground. Your eyes immediately zeroed in on the one with an eight on it, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You were about to move in - no use in waiting and have someone else snatch up your bag, plus you were fast so if you hurried that would be your best chance - when the redheaded tribute ran out of the cornucopia, snatched her bag and was off.

That was fucking smart, but it was now or never. So you pushed your legs up and ran as if your life depended on it. Because it did. From your left you could see someone else run as fast as you did, and getting closer to the table you recognized her as Katniss. Hopefully she wouldn’t hurt you, considering with the new rules all four of you could make it out alive - if she paired up with Peeta that was.

When you quickly grabbed the bag, the both of you locked eyes and it seemed a quick truce was communicated through that, because you both were on your way again. But then you saw her get a knife thrown at her by Clove. Fuck. You stopped in your tracks when she was tackled by the smaller girl and it looked like she was done for.

You had to help her, she had helped you before without even knowing you so you just had to do something. It was auf if you watched the scene from outside of your body, changing direction and running over to the fighting pair, grabbing your big knife and shoving it into Cloves throat. You pulled it out immediately and both you and Katniss were splattered with the girls blood, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking how horrified you should be at killing another person. That would have killed your in heartbeat if she had the chance.

Clove fell to the side clutching her leaking neck, gasping for air and then she was dead and the canon went off. Katniss got up immediately, picking up her bag and squeezing your shoulder gratefully. „Thanks“, she said and the both of you shared a nod and a smile, before taking of again.

————————

You couldn’t believe you actually survived this, let alone save Katniss. You were still running high on adrenaline when you climbed the tree where Cato was laying with a high fever and a badly infected wound. But now you could actually help him, you actually did it. You let yourself fall next to him, sitting on your knees and pulling out the contents of the bag.

There was a relatively big container in there, wrapped in a cloth, plus a small bottle. They were labeled with their use and so you set them aside, pulling Catos makeshift blanket off and unwrapping his nastily infected wound.

At that he awoke with a groan and looked at you unbelievingly. „You’re alive“, he rasped, he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His vision was slightly blurred but he could see you actually came back, back to him and you seemed safe. He was thanking whoever was up there that he didn’t lose you yet. „I need to put this on your wound baby“, you said, and he saw that you got the bag from the feast, medicine included. You were incredible.

He nodded, bracing himself for the pain that came with touching his wound, and you scooped up some of the paste before spreading it as careful as possible, using a good amount. He hissed at the initial touch, but after a few seconds the paste cooled down the burning sensation in his shoulder to a low pulsing and he sighed in relieve.

At the sight of the medicine helping already, tension you didn’t even realize was there fell off of you. „Need to do the back to“, you helped him roll onto his side slowly, before spreading the same generous amount on the back of his wound. You packed away the paste safely, before making him take the recommended amount of medicine from the bottle, that was supposed to help with the fever.

It made him extremely sleepy, but you instilled a little water into him, before laying next to him exhausted. It wasn’t dark, but the both of you needed the sleep badly. Hopefully he would feel a little better when you’d wake up.

—————————

When you next awoke you were wrapped tightly in strong arms and pressed to a chest. And you immediately took that as a good sign, that he felt good and strong enough to do that. Then you noticed the sun was rising again, so you had slept for most of the day yesterday.

You enjoyed the way he was holding you a little longer, even more relieved when you noticed his breathing was already stronger and steady again. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you carefully peeled yourself out of his arms to look at his wound. He grumbled unhappily and turned onto his back when you sat up, one hand on your hip and his eyes slowly opening.

„Hey“, his voice was gravely from lack of use and you smiled at him. „Hey“, your hand softly tracked his jawline, „can I take a look at your wound?“ He grinned a little and nodded, so you sat up on your knees and pulled aside the fabric that you had lightly wrapped around it yesterday and you gasped in shock. Positive shock.

„What is it?“, he asked, sitting up quickly, before looking down at his shoulder. „It’s almost gone“, you whispered and couldn’t quite believe that there was only a little bit of pink skin left from his previously gaping wound. When you checked the other side, it looked the same. „How does it feel though? Does it still hurt? Do you still feel sick?“, you worried that it was healing only superficially.

Cato loved the way you worried about him, only now that he felt healthy again was he really able to enjoy it. Fuck, you were so perfect, you risked your life to save him and if you weren’t televised right now he wouldn’t hold back. He was hard already just at the thought of what you had been doing on that rooftop on the last night.

„I’m alright, I feel perfectly fine“, he grinned and suddenly hauled you up and onto his lap with ease. He really seemed to be better. Your gasp was stifled by his lips and they felt warm and soft again, not clammy and cold. You could cry with how happy you felt. You two could make it out of here together.

When he pulled back, he looked you over for any injuries and almost had a heartattack when he saw you were covered in blood. „Why the hell are you covered in blood? Are you injured? Do you-“, you interrupted his panick quickly. „Calm down it’s not mine!“, you cupped his cheeks, your fingers trembling a little when your remembered how you killed Clove.

„How did it get onto you then? You okay?“, he took your hands in his, kissing your shaking fingers and waiting for your answer patiently. „It was…It’s Cloves. She was about to kill Katniss and I-“, your voice gave out and he pulled you closer in comfort. „Hey it’s alright“, he whispered stroking your back softly, the terror you were feeling shrinking a bit, „it will be okay, I promise.“ You just tucked your head into his neck and stayed there for a while.

————————

It has been two more days since then, and Cato was perfectly fine again. There had been a rainstorm and because of the thunder you must have missed the canon, because in the evening you saw that the redhead was dead. So only you and Cato, Katniss and Peeta and Thresh were left.

You and Cato and been walking through the forest, your camp in the tree packed and left behind, and you were searching for food because you were running low. But when suddenly in the middle of the day, the sky turned dark, you knew you wouldn’t need that anymore. The games would come to an end tonight.

„Seems like they want it to end it huh“, Cato gripped your hand tightly, he knew the gamemakers had planned something big if they changed the time of day. „Let’s go towards the meadow“, he suggested and you just nodded, squeezing his hand gently. You almost reached the edge of the forest when you heard it. It sounded like wolves, but more…domesticated. Not quite like dogs either. But it sent a shiver down you spine.

You both stopped to listen, and it seemed like the howls were getting closer. „We should-“, Cato was interrupted when Peeta and Katniss broke out of the thicket about ten meters away, running terribly fast and screaming at you. Run. So that’s exactly what you did, Cato held your hand so tight that the circulation would most likely be cut of but you didn’t care. You only concentrated on getting away from whatever seemed to be chasing you as fast as possible.

You didn’t dare look back, hearing the heavy sounds of paws behind you entirely too close for comfort even if they were a little bit away still. You ran out of the forest and over the meadow, following the other two towards the cornucopia. That seemed like a solid idea.

Cato thought about picking you up so he could run faster, but when he realized you would probably be safe on top of the cornucopia he decided against it. You could make it like that. He heard what were probably mutants pant behind you and howl angrily, and when you finally reached the cornucopia, you had passed Katniss and Peeta a little and Cato immediately took your waist and hauled you up.

Youwere unceremoniously dumped on the cornucopia and were once again awed by Catos strength. He pulled himself up with ease, Katniss right next to him, who started to pull up Peeta. But it seemed like they were a millisecond too slow, because one of the creatures grabbed Peetas leg. „Peeta!“, Katniss screeched and you were thankful Cato immediately jumped into action, grabbing Peetas other arm and ripping him out of the monsters hold.

The four of you stood on top of the cornucopia, panting and gasping for air when you had a chance to look at the creatures for the first time. And you almost got sick at the sight. They were huge mutant dogs, growling and jumping up the side of the cornucopia. But the worst were their faces. They were distinctly human, but not quite. The gamemakers were fucking sick.

Before you could think about anything else, a strong arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you back roughly. With a gasp, you gazed up towards your attacker. Thresh. He was bleeding profusely, and it seemed liked the creatures got him good before they ran after Katniss and Peeta.

The others looked at you in shock, Katniss had an arrow pointed at him and Cato seemed like he wanted to murder and rip apart the tribute holding you with his bare hands. Peeta was limping an balancing on his good leg, looking as helpless as you felt.

„Let her go“, Cato barked at the nearly equally tall man, and your hands grasped the arm wrapped around your throat. „Ha, fuck you! And you don’t even need to try Katniss, if I fall, she falls too“, Thresh seemed to know his situation was hopeless, „fuck all of you! You four get to go home and have a nice life? How’s that fair? Why do you deserve that? I would have deserved that too, Rue would have deserved that, all of us would have!“ He wasn’t only speaking to you, he was looking at the sky and seemingly addressed the Capitol.

Katniss flinched a little when Rue was mentioned. „How about I snap your pretty little neck hm?“, he cackled and you were frozen in fear, „that’s what they want right? Drama, death and betrayal!“

„You don’t have to give them what they want“, you whispered, the other three still rooted in their spots, „you don’t have to be who they want you to be. If you don’t let them, they can’t take that from you.“

Thresh laughed, and then it turned into a sob. Suddenly, he let you go, pushing you forward roughly and Cato caught you in a tight grasp. You turned around just in time to see him raise three fingers to his tearstained face, holding them to his mouth and raising them into the air, before falling backwards and into the pack of monsters on the ground. And then he was screaming, before Katniss went forward and put him out of his misery with an arrow.

Then she raised her hand in the same gesture as he did, Peeta following suit and then you and Cato did too.

———————

You four had waited there for an hour, the pack was long gone and you knew you won the games. But there wasn’t anything happening, which worried you tremendously. When the sun started to rise, you decided to climb down and as soon as your feet hit the ground, the gamemakers spoke up.

„Attention, attention tributes. There has been a slight rule change. The previous revision allowing for four victors has been revoked. Only one victor may be crowned. Good luck. And may the odds be ever in your favor.“

The four of you stood in silence for a few moments, looking utterly defeated. „They have to have a victor“, you whispered, scared for what might happen now, because Katniss was still holding her bow and Catos grip on his sword was so thight his knuckles were white. Only you and Peeta looked at eachother with surrender.

„No“, Katniss said, throwing her bow down and pulling something out of her jacket. Nightlock berries. You recognized them from back home and from training. If you’d eat them you’d be dead before they reached your stomach. And you suspected what her idea was.

„We don’t have to give them a winner, why should we“, she locked eyes with you, and you nodded, looking up at Cato who was watching your reaction. He seemed to know what they were too. He held out his hand just like you. Fuck them. None of you would be happy if you went out of here a victor. Let the last thing you ever did be a big defiance against the Captiol.

„Together?“, Peeta asked Katniss, and Cato couldn’t help himself and pulled you in for one last kiss. He hated that you were going to die - he didn’t care about himself - but he knew you wouldn’t back down. And going together with the woman he loved seemed like a good way to go. And giving the gamemakers a big fuck you felt reassuring too.

Cato let you go and the four of you looked at eachother one last time, your hand tightly laced in Catos, and then Katniss gave a small nod. „One“, Peeta said, and you and Cato moved closer. „Two“, you whispered and looked into his blue eyes, memorizing the way he always made you feel. „Three“, Katniss said and you raised the berries to your mouth, ready to die, when you were interrupted.

„STOP! Stop! Ladies and Gentleman may I present the winners of the 74th annual Hunger Games.“ Cato pulled you into his embrace immediately.

—————————

So this was part 2! And yes I know all four winning is as unrealistic as it might get, but I didn’t want to kill Katniss or Peeta and if I want to write another part, I need the normal revolution storyline. What do you think? Do you want another part?

I just tagged everyone asking for a part 2, I hope that’s alright it’s y’all!

@xplrcolbyy @riverlikethelake @l0stinth3nightsky @lisedanie @mysticdaisy21 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @inparanormal @hannahnikohl @worshiptheduck

#x reader #fluff #angst #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #cato #cato hadley #cato hadley x reader #cato x reader #cato hunger games #panem #tributes

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elegantsplendour · 2 years ago

Text

Let the Games Begin

Summary 📚 : Gwayne Hightower’s first born daughter was known as the viper. A manipulative, untamed little thing who has an insatiable hunger.

Aemond One-Eye did not like her betrothal with the handsome and charming Lord of Highgarden, especially amidst the Dance of the Dragons.

Not one bit.

Pairing 💌: Aemond Targaryen x !Hightower reader

Contains / warnings😈: kidnap, fluff, some degrading, smut, public

Theme song: Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

And I don't want you to go I don't really wanna fight

'Cause nobody's gonna win, just thought you should know

And I'll never let you go 'cause I know this is a fight

That someday we're gonna win.

Masterlist

Taglist 🥰: @marvelescvpe @aemondx @buglyberry @heavenly1927 @theroyaldixon

Other friends ♥️: @lovelykhaleesiii @daemonskelitsos @vhagarswar

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated💌

When she opened her eyes, her entire body ached in soreness. Trying to lift her arms, a terrifying realization invaded her conscience, the exotically luxurious chamber decorated in Bravoosi silk definitely did not belong to Old Town, nor King’s Landing. Her breaths quickened as she closed her eyes once again, memories flooding back to her head.

Adorned in Hightower green, she had giggled foolishly, appreciating her fine figure in the mirror. Of course she was content. Which lady in all of Westeros wouldn’t be overjoyed to be betrothed to the handsome and charming Lord of Highgarden? Although the marriage was downright political, she had made sure Loras Tyrell had been utterly smitten by your stunning appearance and sinfully seductive nature.

Arching her back devilishly, she imagined ways to drive her betrothed into taking her in the most bestial ways. As moans and grins escaped her mouth, a large hand muffled her breath. It excited her as she had anticipated it had been her desperate husband-to-be who couldn’t wait until the wedding night, but as soon as she caught a glimpse of silver, she realized that she was fucked.

The next thing she knew, she were confined in this chamber.

The door cracked open.

Long silver hair, black leather suit.

Of course.

“You kidnapped me?!” She shrieked in rage, “In Bravoos? Are you out of your mind? You destroyed our alliance between House Tyrell!”

Aemond rolled his one eye and responded cooly, “Dear cousin, we both know you don’t give a shit about the alliance. You are just mad because you lost your chance of getting fucked by Loras Tyrell.”

A blood red flush crept on her face as she retorted, throwing an apple from the fruit plate on her bedside to the one-eyed prince, who dodged her attack with ease, “Aemond, you fucking cunt!” She whined, “I want my life back with Loras!”

Sevens save me. Why am I in love with such a childish and wanton woman?

Aemond approached, his hands gripped her wrists firmly in place as she continued to try to slap him, “Your marriage puts you into great danger. An Hightower-Tyrell alliance puts a target on your back from the Blacks.”

The insolent girl bit his hands while Aemond winced in pain, “As if it wasn’t my cunt of an uncle who pushed your wastrel brother on the throne! At least, I was going to get a good fuck before getting assassinated.”

“You’re right,” Aemond gritted his teeth as he reclaimed her wrists, pinning her on the bed this time with much more force, “All this bloodshed, betrayals, all for the insatiable greed of the few. I won’t take part in this anymore. I’ve fought for my family, hard, for a long time, but it’s time to think for myself. This isn’t my fight anymore,” he leaned closer, “And I refuse to let you be in pawn in this game. I freed you from a fight that wasn’t yours. You… You will be mine.”

Aemond’s lowered his guard as glimmers in her eyes and silence reigned in the room.

“Aemond, you’re hurting my wrists,” she whimpered softly, her innocent doe eyes blinking.

He sighed and released his grasp.

Slap.

A bright red mark imprinted on his ethereal Valyrian face.

“You fucking pervert, Aemond! I am your cousin! Your cousin,” she breathed in disgust and rage, “You will make me succumb to your Targaryen queer traditions over my dead body!”

Aemond covered his stinging cheek, humiliated and surprised, “Over your dead body? Hmm,” he captured her neck, his grip authoritative, commanding and frightening yet not causing true pain, “You are mine to touch, to possess, to own, to use,” his hot breath on her neck, “ I am the only man you will ever get to have. Your needy little cunt won’t last until the end of your days. When you beg me to take you, I will ruin you.”

He left the chamber.

Cries and sobs filled the chamber for weeks after that encounter. She cursed her insufferable cousin for forcibly taking her life away, to mock her desires and body in a such crude way. How dared he? She was the temptress, Gwayne Hightower’s precious little viper, the one who hypnotized preys in her web. How dared he talk of using her as if she was a plaything?

Aemond returned to her side countless times, trying to apologize and make amends, yet every time his attempts ended in his hand slapped away. He hated to see her cry, his little viper cracking in vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was tend to her in his arms, even risking poisonous bites from her fangs.

Days turned into weeks, the little viper was not broken. If she were ever going to be, it would be of boredom.

She observed everything around her to her imagination. Whenever Aemond and the maids were gone, she wrapped her body with the opulent crimson blanket and danced dramatically as if she were the goddess of beauty and seduction. Eventually, her attention drifted inevitably to her cousin captor. The way he avoided her gaze as she narrowed her eyes, his desperate yet reserved request for touching her hand, the way his silver lock cascaded down his sharply beautiful features as she slaps his hand away.

He amused her.

But amidst her boredom there was another dire situation.

Dissatisfaction.

Of course, she would rather torment herself in chastity than giving Aemond the satisfaction of offering herself.

But the viper always finds a solution.

One day, she blackmailed a maester that Aemond sent by threatening to accuse him of touching her into delivering a piece of literature.

Cautionary Tales of Unchaste Ladies Across the Seven Kingdoms Since Aegon’s Conquest.

Knelt on the stone ground, Lady Aryana gazed in fear at the two knights before her. One of them muscular and broad, another tall and slim. Yet amidst her fear, strange tingling sensation erupted in her stomach. The muscular knight bent down and whispered, “My lady, your lord husband fetched us to tend to your needs. He informed us that you prefer to be taken without mercy -”

“What in the Seven Hells is this?!”

The heat in her stomach dissipated the instant the book was snitched away from her hands.

“Give it back!” She protested, hands reaching desperately the forbidden text held high by her captor, “You sadistic prick!”

Aemond hummed, his eye glazing over the next lines of the scandalous story. He swallowed subtly and raised his brows toward the annoyed girl, “Sadistic? Should I take it as a compliment? Considering it comes from masochistic.”

“This is beyond inappropriate for a lady of your station,” Aemond scolded her.

Frozen for an instant, she gracefully settled on the bed and smirked, “A girl has needs. What? My prince?” She pouted, “Want to lend a hand?”

Aemond clenched his fists and seethed, “When you indulge in such sinful acts, you won’t be rewarded.”

She whined in feigned disappointment, pretending to settle in the quilt again.

Turning away to leave the chamber, Aemond’s heart skipped a beat as he felt a feather light kiss landing on his cheeks. Before he had the time to process the delightful peck, horror and rage took over as the delicate hands snitched away his eye patch, exposing his sapphire eye in all its beauty and vulnerability.

He growled in frustration and he chased after the giggling viper.

He gripped on her waist and restrained her on the bed steadfast.

She blinked at him playfully, “I am bored. It’s been a moon since I’ve been confined in this golden prison. I can’t find a better entertainment than tormenting my captor.”

As his boiling and intimidating presence radiated on her, she realized that she had pushed Aemond Targaryen onto his limits.

“Are you going to spank me?”

With a swift move, she was effortlessly flipped over and her white night gown pulled up, revealing her vulnerable flesh.

Aemond’s hand raised high. As it was about to land, he stopped.

The little viper was squirming and arching her back in need.

Aemond chuckled, “You say tormenting me is your form of entertainment, hmm?” He hovered her body and his lips brushing over her earlobe, “Consider that we have similar taste in entertainment, little viper. Your body is mine to pleasure, you should have known better than reading such obscenities.”

He brushed his fingers on her sensitive backside, inciting an arousing whimper from her lips, before leaving his captive in frustration.

She buried her head in the pillows for hours and shrieked in embarrassment and frustration after that encounter.

She was a viper, an untamed, wild and free creature, confined in a golden cage.

She hated the silver haired prick. Always looking so damn perfect. Always keeping his annoying ass proper facade when he literally betrayed his family, faked his death, broke an alliance, kidnapped her across the Narrow Sea to own her, claim her, break her.

How fucking dared he? What kind of decent man does that?

I will prove it that he is if not more, just as wicked as I am.

A few days later

“Release me, you stupid girl,” Aemond hissed, “you are strangling me to to death!”

She didn’t.

Aemond’s hands gripped on the arms tangled on his neck in annoyance, yet deep down, his body rejoiced the sensation of his viper ravelling his body.

“Not until you take me to the city! I am about to die of boredom, my dearest cousin,” she emphasized on the last two words, “My Prince,” she implored innocently, “Please please please!”

“Fine!” He finally declared, “But if you ever try to escape, you can forget about leaving his chamber ever again.”

“I promise I’ll behave!” She promised mischievously, her eyes twinkling with excitement, and galloped out of the oppressing chamber.

Aemond regarded her with a mix of amusement and suspicion. He was well aware of her manipulative nature and how she could use her charms to get what she wanted. Nevertheless, a small part of him couldn't resist her pleas, the way she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

Wandering on the market of Bravoos for hours, Aemond’s hand never left the tilt of sword as he scrutinized the mass, assuring there were no Westerosi spies targeting him or his viper.

His unbearable cousin, on the other hand, had much less serious matters in her head. As they strolled through the vibrant streets, she maintained her facade of naivety, pretending to be oblivious to the effect her every move had on Aemond. She skipped along, her dress swaying with each step, seemingly unaware of the gazes of admiration and desire that followed her.

She would glance back at Aemond with wide, innocent eyes, feigning confusion. "Aemond, why are people staring at us? Do I have something on my face?"

Aemond clenched his jaw, well aware of her game. He fought to conceal his growing frustration as he responded through gritted teeth, "It's nothing. Just ignore them."

The Hightower viper rejoiced secretly at her captor’s terribly failure of hiding his annoyance.

As they passed by a fruit vendor, her eyes gleamed mischievously. She plucked a ripe, succulent peach from the display, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow, sensual bite. The sweet juice dripped down her chin as she looked at Aemond through half-lidded eye.

"Mmm, Aemond, this peach is absolutely delicious," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "Would you like a taste?" She extended the fruit towards him, her fingers glistening with its juices.

Aemond's resolve was hanging by a thread as he stared at the tantalizing sight before him. He wanted to seize the peach, to taste its sweetness and devour it along with her tempting offer.

No.

He wanted to do so much more.

He wanted to claim her lips, bite her, squeeze her, take her ruthlessly, make her scream like a common whore under broad daylight while the peasants of Bravoos watch with shock.

Clenching his fists, Aemond feigned a polite smile, “I’m good, little cousin.”

She rolled her eyes as she licked her lips intentionally.

Smitten by the desirous moment, Aemond’s eye widened in horror. She was nowhere to be found.

He searched every tent of the market at no avail.

A mixture of rage, fear and vulnerability stormed in his mind.

Did he really let her little display fool him, leading to her escape?

Or worse…

Spies from his family got their hold on her.

“Have you glimpsed a maiden? Barely of age, in a white dress, hauntingly beautiful?” Aemond demanded menacingly a mid-aged trader of Pentosi silk. The woman froze in fear as she recognized the symbolic silver hair: a Targaryen.

Aemond’s worry blazed eye was covered by darkness. The shock electrified his body and his first instinct had been to cut off the hands on his eye. Yet an instant later, the worry was replaced by fury.

“Did you think I escaped, My Prince?”

Aemond turned around, rage written all over his face.

The sight before him exacerbated his storm of emotions.

Her white gown for a proper Westerosi lady gone, replaced by an exotic and tempting Dornish robe, revealing her fruitful bosom, slender shoulders and alluring curves.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” She grinned as she swirled recklessly, displaying her beguiling thighs.

With that, she bolted like a mice being chased by a ferocious cat. Did she intend to escape? Absolutely not. Her alluring laughter like a siren’s call to the dragon prince.

As she reached a glim alley, she slowed down her pace and turned to face Aemond, approaching her like a predator ready to devour its prey.

He cupped her delicious breasts, barely covered by the provocative silk, roughly, eliciting a soft whine her soft lips, “Wooh, my prince…”

Aemond grabbed the back of her delicate neck and breathed on her neck, “Are you really that eager to get fucked, hmm? Little cousin?”

She tilted her head with her glimmering eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her tease almost childlike, yet her hands traced down his lean and muscular chest.

“Fuck,” he growled, his leather pants stretching at his growing bulge;

With a swift move, she wrapped her arms around him and muffled his shocked curses with her lips.

“You are annoyingly attractive, cousin,” she smirked.

Instead of responding or retorting, Aemond turned her around her pressed her on the wall in an almost brutal manner.

She smiled satisfactorily and taunted, “Perhaps I am eager to get… Hmm,” she mimicked him, “Perhaps you are just too eager to fuck me, Aemond.”

A animalistic growl followed by a low chuckle echoed from her behind, “You want me to take you in front of the gods, do you?”

She turned her head to face him, grinning, “You know me, cousin. I pray to myself, for myself. I am a goddess, and you are my willing servant.”

As her last words escaped her mouth, she shrieked at the pain and pleasure accompanied by the sudden intrusion.

She already got wet just by fucking teasing me. Such a - Aemond’s thought were cut off as the word “servant” entered into his ears.

He pushed into her luscious backside without any warning.

Soon, her gasps of pain tuned into screams of pleasure.

“How is that, little viper? Are you still a goddess now?” He demanded cruelly as he spanked her hard.

Little did he know in her ears, the sharp sound on his hand and her, the relentless pounding, her own moans and his occasional growls were a symphony driving her into Seven Heavens.

“Big cousin,” she emphasized on the word “big” and arched her back, “You are so good to me. Serve me harder.”

Aemond longed to ruin her, yet he knew she wanted to be ruined.

He increased his pace, his hands coming down on her again and again.

He whispered the most sinful and degrading things he could think off.

Everything exacerbated her excitement.

It both infuriated and satisfied him.

“Scream louder, my little viper, mine,” he warned, sensing her walls clenching, “Scream so loud that whole of Bravaoos can hear you,” he chuckled, “Or I deny your ecstasy.”

And scream his name she did.

Aemond’s peak followed soon after and spilled his seed in her.

Aemond panted in satisfaction and exhaustion as he smirked at the mess he created.

His heart tightened again as the beautiful mess closed the distance between them and melted in his embrace.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice unconsciously soft.

He didn’t want to be soft.

His beautiful mess shook her head and nestled in his chest.

“Let me take care of you,” he promised, lifting her off the ground and directed to their residence.

He placed her on the mattress carefully as if he was holding a delicate vase and placed a kiss on her forehead, “I wanted it to be special. I didn’t mean to take you so… recklessly, I am sorry.”

Aemond One-Eye had absolutely no fucking idea why he had said that.

The little viper grinned and pulled her captor onto the mattress and rolled on top of him, “Trust me, Aemond - My Captor - Big Cousin - Targaryen, you had me because I wanted you,” she murmured, “I wanted you to take me… recklessly.”

The prince failed to contain his chortle, “My viper, so untamed. Even when at the mercy of her captor.”

She leaned down and captured his thin lips, slighting biting, “I always choose what’s best for me, Aemond,” she locked her eyes with his and took off his eye patch, exposing his sapphire, “I choose to let myself to be loved.”

Aemond’s words were caught in his throat.

Did he love her?

Oh the fuck yes.

How did she know?

She always does.

“You think I am the best for you?” A twinge of the vulnerability cracked from the ruthless One-Eyed Prince.

“For now,” she answered, “But make no mistake,” she reminded him playfully, her hands travelling down to his most intimate parts, “I will drift away if you cease to be that way.”

Aemond watched her in fascination as she grinned, “This is why you love me, no? Selfish, untamed, unapologetic? So un-Hightower.”

In a dominant surge, he pinned her down again, his voice firm and unyielding, “You can drift away all you want, my viper,” he smiled deviously, “I will hunt you down to the end of the world.”

She winked in amusement, “I have no doubt, Aemond Targaryen,” she challenged, “But I also know you would do anything, absolutely anything to become the best for me again.”

“Hmm,” he travelled his hands between her thighs again, “Let the games begin, shall we?”

“We shall.”

Many hours later.

“You know, I’ve never imagined that I would lose my maidenhood bent over in a dark alley in Bravoos, let alone to you.”

“Oh please, the only person you lost your maidenhood to was your devious fingers.”

465 notes · View notes

4suke · 8 days ago

Text

memoir.

miya atsumu x reader angst, amnesia!au crossposted on ao3 as higashikatas.

“I think I remember this place,” Atsumu says as you lead him over the threshold of the Inarizaki volleyball gymnasium. The grin on his face is tentative, as if he’s not sure whether he should be proud of how he was able to hold on to the memory or not. “I…I’m not sure why though, but it just clicked.”

You nod. “I’d honestly be even more concerned if you couldn’t remember this place. You used to spend all your free time in here, and I’d have to keep coming in and checking on you.”

“Hard worker, hm?” His eyes are roaming around the gym eagerly, as if this was something he could never get enough of. In a way, it was right. He’d never really satiated his hunger for the game… and ‘hard worker’ hadn’t even began to describe it.

“I think ‘perfectionist’ would fit better.”

He nods slowly. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

The silence that follows was the awkward kind that stagnated between two people who have never been alone together before. It shouldn’t have been like that though- you can barely remember a time where you’d spent free time away from at least one of the Miya twins. This kind of heavy silence is foreign, the kind that suffocates you slowly.

You almost cry with relief as Atsumu breaks the silence with a question. “So… I played on the Inarizaki volleyball team. What position was I in?”

“Setter. And ‘Samu was a wing spiker.”

“Setter.” His hand is on the door of the storage room, and he pushes it open slowly. It creaks in protest, matching your mood perfectly “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“You did. You were really good at it, too.”

“Really?” A ghost of his old grin is back. “Sounds like fun.”

You want to cry. Fun doesn't even begin to describe how Atsumu used to feel about volleyball, and it's just another reminder that the boy in front of you is a mere shadow of the person your boyfriend used to be.

He’s stepped fully into the cramped storage room now, darkness swallowing the back of his green t-shirt. You follow after, wrinkling your nose at the smell of rubber and something else you can’t quite place. It’s as tiny as you remember; You and Atsumu pretty much fill the whole place up. It reminds you of the first time you two got locked in here (yes, there was more than one) and ended up clinging to one another in the dark.

You wonder what would happen if the door happened to get stuck again. It definitely won’t be like the last time; sure, you haven’t changed that much and neither have your feelings for Atsumu back then, but… he is different too. He acts and talks the same, but… he isn’t the same Atsumu.

He isn’t your Atsumu.

Suddenly, you need fresh air. You mumble out an excuse to him, where he is still looking at the contents of the storeroom as if they were some sort of treasure, before stepping out backwards. You don’t stop there, moving until the gentle breeze from outside the gym brushes across your face. It makes your head and neck feel cool, as if they’d been dunked in water, contrasting to the rest of your body which now felt slightly sticky. taking in a deep breath, you moved out further.

Leaning against the doorframe, your eyes roamed across the familiar territory lazily. It’s the same old school, same buildings and same paths from last year- but being there when it is empty of almost everyone else makes it seem suddenly different. It’s new and unfamiliar territory, just like the man you’d left behind in the storeroom.

“[Name]? I think I'm ready to leave.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. The school just… I don’t know how to explain it, y’know? It’s…I don’t know.” You almost smile at the glimmer of frustration in his tone; Atsumu had always liked to know. He had hated the few rare times he had ever been left in the dark about anything, making sure to say so at the top of his voice.

You look at him now, his hands fisting almost unconciously in annoyance. So in character, but at the same time not the same as before. The inflections in the way he says your name are familiar to only one of you, but it still falls off his tongue like he's never stopped talking about you. His gaze is still reluctant to leave the volleyball gymnasium, even though the sentiment behind it is new and different.

Maybe this Atsumu isn't so different from the one you thought you lost, you think. Maybe there is hope for something new in your relationship too.

And it is with that hope that you reach for his hand and lead him out of the small building. "I know a place for ice cream. You interested?"

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu fic #miya atsumu x y/n #🌙.work #4suke #haikyuu atsumu

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7s3ven · 2 years ago

Text

jealous girl. cato hadley

( master list )

Cato Hadley x Female! District Two! Reader

This one shot is for a book I’m writing but enjoy this. Link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/336569852?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=riddlesbleachdrinker&wp_originator=lNYFXKoKSwZS%2FwkVU%2FVInkUksEX5fvHuroL2fOpLQzYw324EJ7uS7vH9NrK7EKz%2FtWuSTO96oj3SPi%2F%2F4Z9sCfk8um5LCzNHP2dloSxR2TYkqun4bDC2EUvFGW59AGeP (JEEZ THATS A BIG LINK, WTF)

“Cause I’m a jealous, jealous, jealous girl. If I can't have you, baby. If I can't have you, baby.”

“Let the 74th Hunger Games commence. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The moment the countdown reached zero, Y/N jumped off her pedestal. She was racing towards the supplies before the other tributes even had time to process what was happening.

The H/C-haired girl grabbed the first weapon she saw, which was a sword. Cato wouldn’t be happy about that. Y/N slashed at the other tributes, not caring who she hit as long as blood splattered across the fresh grass.

“You took my sword.” Cato muttered as he stabbed a young boy with a curved knife. Y/N only hummed and shrugged.

“The District Twelve girl is getting away!” Glimmer shouted over the screams of terror coming from the tributes.

“I got her!” Y/N replied, throwing the sword at Cato’s feet and picking up an axe as she sprinted after Katniss. “Well, if it isn’t the girl on fire.” Y/N sneered as she grabbed the raventte’s braid, pulling her back. “You escaped from Glimmer’s arrows but you can’t escape me.” Y/N choked Katniss with the handle of her axe, listening to the way she gagged. Katniss scratched at Y/N’s arms, picking off bits of flesh until she realized that would do no good.

With a choked gasp, Katniss harshly head butted Y/N. The H/C-haired girl yelled out in pain as thick, red liquid dripped down her face.

“My nose! You little shit! You hurt my face! You’ve ruined it!” Y/N punched Katniss, screaming over and over again. She was like a vicious beast sinking its teeth into its prey.

Y/N slashed Katniss’ shoulder with her weapon, knocking her to the ground. The H/C-nette attempted to stab Katniss’ throat but she rolled to the side, getting a mouthful of dirt in return. Katniss kicked Y/N’s ankles, causing the latter to topple over.

Suddenly, Katniss was on top of her with a dagger pressing into Y/N’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Cato was quick to react. He grabbed Katniss’ shirt, heaving the black-haired girl off Y/N.

Katniss quickly scrambled up, sprinting away. Cato was too focused on Y/N to care.

“I thought you had it under control.” Cato grumbled as the pair walked back towards Glimmer and Marvel. The bloodbath was over, allowing the tributes to rest before the Careers picked them off one by one.

“I did until she tried to slit my damn throat.” Y/N lifted a hand to feel the small, slightly wincing.

“How much supplies did we get?” Cato questioned. There was a large array of bags on the bloody grass, and one of them was bound to contain medical supplies.

“We only got a few bags of food. Marvel and I can go find some more.” Glimmer offered. By ‘finding some more’ she meant stealing from other tributes.

“We’ll guard the supplies then.” Cato uttered, “Don’t take too long.” The blond began to rummage through the bags, searching for anything he could use on Y/N’s injuries and her bloody nose.

“This isn’t needed, you know. My throat will be fine.” Y/N mumbled as Cato forced her to tilt her head back as he cleaned her wound.

“Say that when it gets infected.” Cato fired back. Y/N lightly scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching into a small smile.

“Are you seeing this, Cladius?” Caesar grinned at his broadcasting partner. “It seems the District Two tributes have finally began showing affection to each other, starting with Cato saving Y/N.”

“Yes, yes. We all saw the lingering stares between the two during the tribute parade. However, we have two couples in the games now: Peeta and Katniss from District Twelve, and Cato and Y/N from District Two. How will that turn out?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

__ Y/N bit into a piece of bread, finally silencing her rumbling stomach. Cato was quick to snatch the food out of her hand, shoving it into her mouth.

“Dude, seriously?” Y/N scowled, slapping his shoulder. Cato only laughed. “I was still eating that, you nitwit.”

Night was beginning to fall, which only meant one thing for the Careers: hunting time. Peeta was with them too. Only so they could find Katniss, though.

“Fire alert.” Y/N muttered, pointing over at a dim light slightly concealed by the forest. Truly a stupid move.

“Come on, let’s go.” Cato said.

With their backpacks fully stuffed and weapons in hand, the Careers went bounding into the forest in search of new targets. They followed the fire and found a girl warming her hands by it. She looked up, noticing the sadistic smirks on the Careers’ faces.

There was a loud scream and then a canon, signifying her death.

“Did you hear her shouting? Oh, please don’t kill me!” Glimmer loudly laughed as she imitated the girl’s plead. Cato chuckled, nudging her.

“Hey, that was a good impression.” He said, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N, who was at the front of the pack, turned around. She saw Cato and Glimmer lagging behind, stuck in their own world. Y/N heaved a frustrated sigh.

She felt like her gut was being twisted. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the feeling. As Glimmer giggled again, Y/N’s grip on her axe tightened.

“Tribute, two o’clock!” Marvel announced, pointing at a boy who was sprinting through the greenery. He was making an awful lot of noise, which was the thing that led the Careers to him in the first place.

“I call dibs!” Y/N exclaimed, running after him. She threw her axe, hitting him square in the chest. It wasn’t long before another canon went off. Y/N ransacked his bag, grabbing everything she could and shoving them into her pockets and bag.

“Let’s set up camp.” Marvel uttered. It would do them no good if they were too tired to kill tomorrow. Cato, Marvel, and Glimmer lay on the ground while Y/N skilfully climbed up a tree. She liked climbing things. And turns out, it was a skill many Careers lacked.

Y/N swung her legs back and forth as she stared up at the artificial sky. She glanced down, staring as Glimmer cuddled into Cato’s side. He allowed her.

Y/N felt another strong pang in her chest as she absentmindedly played with a knife she found in her bag. She couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline and envy was keeping her awake.

“Are you ever going to come down?” Cato questioned. He slipped out of Glimmer’s arms and walked to stand underneath Y/N.

“I will.” She muttered, “Soon.” She wanted Cato to stay, but he simply shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t fall out of the tree.” He returned to his former sleeping spot, but kept his distance from Glimmer.

“Night, Y/N.” She heard him say.

“Night, Cato.”

It was another successful day for the Career pack. All of them, save for Peeta, were celebrating their latest kill. They walked out of the thick greenery, almost skipping with joy.

“Hey, look!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing at Katniss. She was wading in the shallow water of a river to relive the burn in her leg. As soon as she saw the Careers, her eyes widened and she bolted.

“Fish out of the pond!” Marvel yelled as they chased after her.

“She’s mine!” Glimmer playfully shouted.

Cato was at the front of the pack, Y/N not too far behind.

“Where you going, baby?!” Cato exclaimed, “There’s nowhere to run!”

Katniss resorted to climbing up a tall tree. She panted as she reached a high branch, looking down at the deadly pack.

“Get her, Cato!” Glimmer encouraged the blond as he began to scale up the trunk, jaw tightly clenched. However, he grabbed onto a frail stick and fell. He landed with a loud thud.

“Fine! I’ll shoot her!” But Glimmer overestimated her aim. She missed Katniss by a long shot. Cato angrily motioned for Glimmer to hand the bow and arrow over, trying for himself. He was just as bad.

“Maybe you should throw the sword.” Katniss sarcastically suggested.

“Or maybe you all should move aside and leave her to the one that can climb.” Y/N piped up, her arms folded over her chest.

The pack stepped aside, allowing Y/N to pass through. She held a dagger in between her teeth as she climbed the tree with surprising speed. Katniss scrambled away as Y/N stepped onto her branch.

“Hello again, girl on fire.”

Katniss pulled out a curved dagger, holding it in front of her. In such close range, her bow and arrows would be futile.

“You’re going to pay for ruining my face.” Y/N launched at Katniss, grabbing her by the shirt and throwing her back. Katniss hit the tree trunk and let out a strained wheeze. The Careers below cheered at Y/N stabbed the ravenette’s shoulder and kicked her burn so hard that Katniss screamed.

Katniss was skilled, but she was no match for Y/N, who was trained for this moment. Katniss heard a faint buzzing above her and she looked up to see some kind of wasp nest.

“Oooh, tracker jackers. If Katniss manages to knock it over, Y/N will be in a very dangerous position.” Claudius uttered to Caesar. The blue-haired man nodded in agreement.

“For those of you who don’t know,” Caesar said, “Tracker jackers are genetically engineered wasps. Their lethal stings can cause powerful hallucinations and, in some serious cases, death.”

Katniss clumsily jumped and sliced the nest off the tree. The tracker jackers emerged, buzzing around the two females. The Careers below were also affected.

Y/N fell out of the tree, screaming as she tried to swipe the wasps away. The pain was blinding her sense of sight as she scrambled to her feet.

“Y/N!” She faintly heard Cato yelling. Once Cato and Marvel realised neither of their District partners were behind them, the blond immediately ran back.

Glimmer and Y/N were both being attacked, trying desperately to run away from the wasps.

If Cato could save both of them, he would’ve. But time was running low and he had to choose. He chose Y/N without hesitation, leaving Glimmer behind to die.

“Shit! Y/N, come on. Wake up. Don’t leave me. Y/N!” Cato lay her on the ground and shook her shoulders, begging her to open her eyes.

“Cato?” She whispered, her cracked and bloody lips slightly parted.

“Yes. Yes. It’s me. It’s Cato.” He grabbed her face so Y/N could clearly see him.

“Why is Clove with you? She’s not meant to be here.” Y/N muttered, furrowing her eyebrows. “Clove, why are you here?”

“Y/N, Clove isn’t here.” Cato said, “But I am. Can you walk?” Y/N tried to stand up but she fell back down. Cato cushioned her fall.

“It hurts.” She whispered, lightly tugging his shirt.

“I know.” Cato gently uttered, stroking her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have let you go up there. I’m so sorry.” For a moment, Cato showed his vulnerability to the multiple cameras surrounding him. “You’re going to be okay, though. Just take it nice and slow.”

With Cato’s help, Y/N was able to stand up. She groaned, leaning against him.

“I’m going to kill her.” She muttered, referring to Katniss. She had gotten away from Y/N two times. It wouldn’t happen a third.

“You’ll get your chance. For now, relax.” Cato kissed the top of Y/N’s head, too distracted by her to notice the sponsor parachute. The small container hit him in the face and he clenched his jaw.

He opened the compartment, briefly reading the small note inside.

Nice romance, kids. Apply this to Y/N’s injuries. - E

Cato screwed open a round container, looking inside in confusion. “It’s, uh, melted oatmeal?”

“It’s ointment, you nitwit!” Y/N snapped, “For the stings!”

“Damn, the stings made her cranky. Here, let me help you.” Cato applied the ointment and Y/N sighed in relief as they finally stopped hurting.

“Thanks, Cato.” Y/N murmured, leaning against him.

“Any time, Y/N.”

#cato hadley #hunger games #clove kentwell #glimmer hunger games #marvel hunger games #hunger games x reader #x reader #reader insert #catching fire #mocking jay

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blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months ago

Text

Private training

Career Tributes x recruit!reader

warning : obsession, some touching, kiss, no use of Y/n, nicknames

Summary : The four from the best districts there were, young examinees who had eliminated all others in the Hunger Games and wanted the four golden future teachers, four young teachers who had their eyes on a new recruit. The only solution private training four times because as outstanding talents they should be entitled to everything, shouldn't they?

info : Not only because of dear anon i found motivation and an idea for the four of them, it was also nice to write for them again, have fun reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cato

Everyone knew the golden boy from the second district, his strength for thousands of millions was to be seen when he simply broke the neck of one of the players, how fast and precise he was with the sword and had slaughtered his opponents, it was brutal, horrible but above all without mercy.

A young man now after the 74th games it would soon be the 75th games bigger more brutal and above all even more successful and more memorable than the last, which is why the respected mentor and coach was not surprised that he received a letter from Snow asking for his strength for the new players. But he hadn't expected it to be such an extraordinary new recruit.

So he found himself in front of this pretty little bird, almost too gentle to lift anything heavy and too powerless for a real blow, ,,But your wings are beautifully dipped in black,” he murmured as he approached her, entering her personal space and squeezing her hand, his lips approaching her ear and his hot breath giving her a goose bump.

His rough hands seemed to feel her body, but he seemed to have noticed this very thought as he withdrew with a smile of pleasure. The new black training uniform was tighter fitting whether intentionally for the audience or not he couldn't tell but it didn't bother him a bit as he watched what exercises she was doing.

Pure strength wasn't her strength anyone could see that but his blue eyes saw her agility, she reacted quickly well quickly almost more than well, ,,A quick flight you have birdie use that…come here!” he called to her and watched as she came back to him trying to ignore the judges watching over them as usual.

He had felt comfortable in the attentive makite but she seemed to want to disappear like a shadow but he wouldn't let that happen so he grabbed her in front of him and put the sword in her hand.

His hands on hers covered her even more fragile, smaller but above all helpless, something he had often seen in others and something he loved, ,,Just let me guide you, do you understand?” it came like a question but it was more of a command that she answered with an almost choked ,,Y-Yes, I understand” as he moved.

Still a little stiff at first, after a few minutes of being pressed against him she seemed to relax and let him lead.

Cato heard her sweet smell, it reminded him of flowers, pretty flowers between his fingers that only he could hold. Soon he slowly let go of her as she made the sword movements herself, it seemed that his bird was about to blossom under his watchful eye, such training had to be used not only to win but also to catch a pretty bird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clove

The golden girl and the golden boy from the district two hopefuls who had been through blood before the games had even started.

Two contestants who together could have won it all according to the estimates, bets, calculations and the other districts, but in the end even they would hardly have believed that the four of them had made it, a win was a win and that was all that mattered.

But even after the games were over, the four of them celebrated, and unlike Cato, who continued to train recruits and not escape the battlefield, Clove continued to indulge in her training and weaponry, of which there was never enough.

Until she was asked by Snow to take care of a recruit who would take part in the next games. Her time was precious, the president and the others knew that, which was why she had the training room to herself with her recruit, apart from the observers and judges.

,,Weak as a mouse, cute to me at most, but not convincing to them,” she said harshly, pointing to the glass behind her where the men who had gathered here were sitting.

In order to get a better picture, she accepted Cato's suggestion and handed a few weapons to her peer. The only way to find out what you were good at was to train endlessly like her or just keep trying until you didn't trip over your own feet and make training dummies stop.

Minutes almost turned into hours and Clove lost more and more of her already low spirits but her eyes never left her mouse, she was really cute she had to admit her attempts to be as good as she could be and yet fail so miserably again, ,,Twitchy scared little whiskers you have my mouse take these knives here…and put them on me” the dark haired one demanded and stood a few meters away from the other.

She could see the overcoming in the recruit and felt her own smile on her lips as she felt the adrenaline in the arena for a fraction, but she caught every precise knife throw, it was more than a good start to begin with.

Clove caught the knives and walked them back to her little mouse, ,,Precise very good keep it up and I'm right here for you my scared little mouse” she said and the tip of one knife pressed lightly against the younger girl's cheek as the dark-haired woman feasted her eyes on the uncertain expression before Clove pulled back satisfied with her reaction, the game was going to be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glimmer

With pink glitter and feathers she came riding into the arena with her teammate Marvel overwhelmed by the mass of spectators and eyes on her but this attention was something she learned to love. Since then, she had kept her frilly style with lots of attention but most of all gemstones as a reminder of her father.

Gemstones were her chosen design and were almost worked into every outfit, the glitter had to continue. Since she had won the games with the others, she was relieved, more than relieved to be able to continue living, but also to finally be able to do something she had always liked in this brutal place.

Her survival had been worth it, she had won and her honor, her reputation had only increased. Shortly after the 74th hunger games, Glimmer rose to become the top designer for the entire Capitol.

She was responsible for every new design, whether it was for District Twelve or a new suit for Flickerman, she had her fingers in every pie of the Capitol.

Until she received the somewhat surprising letter from Snow, she had even met the president a few times herself to design a new dress for his granddaughter.

But this time it was about something she hadn't done for a long, long time: fighting. In the performance room, however, she found herself face to face with a pretty butterfly, almost an image of herself from back then, pretty, engaging but not yet deadly if you got too close.

,,A butterfly in my design, pretty but you can always be better” she said and the blonde moved towards her student, letting her fingers wander over her arms, feeling the small precious stones on the buttons before she pulled the zipper down slightly.

She could see a little of the bust, it would at least be enough for an extra point or two with the judges, something she had done herself, had to do.

She was aware that she wouldn't keep her student for long if she didn't show results but the designer felt she had found a new muse, a pretty butterfly that would be hers in her room, something she wanted to and would try out new designs on, ,,Something that pretty needs to know how to kill though?” she asked, pointing to the various weapons laid out.

A grin appeared on the blonde trainer's face as she saw the other grab a bow and arrow, a weapon she had once chosen herself, it was okay not as perfect as Katniss was for the games but the okay was enough but she wouldn't make that mistake again.

She let her shoot so that she could aim and as good as this weapon was at a distance, something she had to maintain, Glimmer came up to her after a few minutes, ,,Distance is safe for a start but close combat is even more deadly…you just have to be faster” she warned and grabbed the rubber knife the blonde was about to wrap around her pupil and put the tip of the knife on any deadly body points that would have brought her opponent to the ground with a real knife.

But Glimmer didn't let go yet and stayed pressed against her for a moment before she left a kiss on the other girl's cheek as a farewell, ,,Keep training with the knife, sweet butterfly, and I'll be right back with you soon,” was the last thing the blonde said before she disappeared from the training room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marvel

The young man from district one had been raised, trained to kill and hunt until the victim lay before him, his father a hunter to emulate him, he too had signed up for the games and entered the arena, the capiteol and finally the Hunger Games with his comrade-in-arms Glimmer.

He was someone with strength and a will to win, but never forget to have fun, because that was the best part of the whole thing. From the moment he arrived, he laughed knowing that charm and wit could make people like you, so shortly after the 74th Hunger Games, Marvel found himself moderating before or after Flickermann.

He conducted interviews and showed glimpses into the secret worlds of luxury, including meeting his friends Cato, Clove and Glimmer again and again “by chance” until he received the letter from Snow and found himself back in the training room for a long time, but his interested eyes settled on a pretty sight.

,,A cute bunny that would be an interview for later mhh would you like that?” he asked seeing that she felt uncomfortable under the eyes of the judges but for him it was a matter of course as he was seen every day.

He slowly walked over to her inwardly thanking Glimmer for the new tracksuits pretty in that black clinging to the body a really pretty victim she herself wasn't even aware of something he loved, being superior having his fun and being allowed to teach something so cute.

He placed his hand on hers and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of her hand he felt the smile on his lips as he saw her embarrassment, ,,Don't be so shy always smile and be funny for them and for your life remember bunny” he admonished before he broke away from her and went to the weapons looking at some of them memories of his own training he had reached a year ago and so much had changed for the better when he had her with him.

Marvel instructed his student to fight with the weapons to show what she could do and he assessed what was the best they had to train together besides all the TV appearances and announcements of course.

His bright eyes were already on her, imagining the interviews and aftershows, the pretty clothes and how she would always have to stay with him to avoid being eaten by the Capitol.

,,You are truly quick as a rabbit try it here with me” he said and took a spear in his hand his weapon since ever demostrietre not only to the audience but also to her a well aimed throw that hit the mark and the doll was pierced and dead if it was a human he made an angdue bow for the audience he saw her incredible in her own power.

He stood next to her and put his hands on her body again, correcting her position, ,,That's it, that's it my rabbit, now strike out and just let go," he whispered softly, hollering out with her before the metal spear whizzed through the air and dug into the doll's abdomen, not piercing it but killing it.

He saw a smile on her lips as she rejoiced in the motivation and hope that she could really do it and Marvel knew that once she was victorious she would be all his for his interviews and beyond as he left his new star in the training hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@daegalyah , @sleepygirlmia

#hunger games #cato hunger games #marvel hunger games #glimmer hunger games #clove hunger games #cato x reader #clove x reader #glimmer x reader #marvel x reader #the hunger games

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thewordswewrite · 2 years ago

Text

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 15 - His Future

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | Embarking on their honeymoon, Finnick and his girl bond without the pressures of the outside world.

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide, character death, SMUT 18+

W/C | 4.8k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog @mrsjna @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cecepop15 @pavard-leto-girl

A/N | The end!!!!! or not????? ;) Thank you everyone for keeping up with this story and being so committed to Finnick haha -Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

The sun had already long since set by the time they were nearing their destination and Finnick, while not seeming to necessarily be angry, had had very little to say on the ride thus far. It had undeniably been a bit awkward, from loading their stuff into the train car to sitting across from each other in silence. She got the feeling that he wanted to say something but didn’t know what and, unsurprisingly, she felt the same. There had been a lot of rethinking that had to be done on her part, backtracking through her memories to regret how she had acted when she was defending the truth she thought was reality. There was anger to be had both at Snow for painting an incongruous picture of Finnick and at herself for believing it.

Her plans for escape were abandoned now that she had finally accepted the consequences that would come from it. She had been naive, not understanding the full extent of the power that Snow held over them. Finnick’s life had been torn apart even after doing everything he could to appease the President. After all he had done for her, had saved her from, he at least deserved a fair shot at the life they were given. If there was any true testament to Finnick’s, her husband’s character, it would be the countless chances he had given her and the goodwill he held toward her even now. It had broken her heart to see the look on his face that morning when he thought she would leave him especially after having seen the glimmer of hope that their wedding had sparked within Finnick.

The silhouette of palm trees that had pervaded their view for the last hour or so slowed to a standstill which caused both of them to turn their heads, making eye contact that was averted immediately after. If it were any other time, she would make a comment about Finnick gathering both of their luggage, saying something along the lines of ‘I can take care of myself’ but she was ultimately just grateful that he was still an active participant in their lives, given she had experienced the opposite. There was a certain irrational fear that hung inside just being in the train where not only had so many things gone wrong between them, but where she had once traveled towards her imminent death. Now, stepping off the train with Finnick extending a hand to help her down, it was a bittersweet sort of realization that she held even a modicum of safety. The more she opened herself up to feeling for him though, the more she felt anxious about the status of their relationship that had thus far been turbulent.

Together they walked down a dark path, lit dimly by the moon and a sparse arrangement of streetlamps. Finnick was dutifully on alert, both of them being unfamiliar with where they were sent and given how things had been going lately with his interactions with Snow, she couldn’t blame him for thinking it all might be too good to be true.

“I guess this is it,” Finnick concluded as they stepped onto the porch of their seaside bungalow. They had seen similar housing on their way down the waterfront and while they had all been in good shape, they were very clearly uninhabited. “According to the pamphlet, this was some sort of resort back before the war…when people could afford that sort of thing,” Finnick had informed her.

“Moment of truth,” She sighed, slipping one of the keys out of the small package they had been given. Finnick held their bags, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as she fit the key into the lock. The knob turned with ease, opening into an unlit foyer which Finnick stepped into first with a ready stance. After a few moments, she followed him in, reaching blindly around the wall for a light switch.

Once the room was lit, the place felt a bit less unsettling and more like a genuine luxury. It was decorated tackily, the forced atmosphere of being both beachside and on vacation pervaded every corner. The style wasn’t quite the in-your-face staple of the Capitol, in fact on closer inspection, it was clear that the decor and the house itself predated whatever current stylistic era they were in and likely by decades.

“I guess it's just us, huh?” She bit her lip, struck by the awkwardness not only of the silence but her attempt to break it. “Looks like this place has been abandoned, up until now…I guess.”

“Yep. Lucky us.”

Finnick surveyed the rest of the rooms, sparing scrutiny from no corner of the place. By now, neither of them were strangers to Snow’s invasiveness and it was hard to believe that he would draw the line for the sake of a vacation. When the house was cleared, Finnick immediately took to the master bedroom, only bothering to unpack whatever he needed for the night. She sat on the edge of the king sized bed, kicking her feet idly as he brushed his teeth.

“Do you want to go see the rest of the resort?” She called out to him, grasping for straws. It was hard to tell exactly where they stood, if he was angry or sad or just fine, any mixture of those things. There were plenty of things on a long list that they had to be concerned about, that had gone wrong for them lately and any of them could be troubling him.

There was another moment before he stepped out of the bathroom.

“No,” Finnick simply stated, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just go to bed too then.” She felt like a child in his presence, trying too hard to please him. A couple weeks ago she couldn’t have cared less about what Finnick Odair thought of her or anything else but now he was a constant in her mind. As he started to get into bed, she gathered up a spare blanket and a pillow from the opposite side.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just–” She gestured loosely to the doorway. They’d shared a bed for many nights before but given their conversation the previous night, she didn’t want to assume that she was welcome, even if it had seemed like they had made up. She would miss the feeling of safety that he provided and her sleep would likely suffer but it was better safe than sorry.

Before she made it to the door, Finnick spoke, “Stop. I’m too tired to do this right now. Come to bed.” She turned to him, the circles under his eyes deeply shadowed as he sat up, lifting up the opposite corner of the covers.

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Come to bed,” Finnick repeated and though he said it tenderly, he left no room for discussion. She followed the order and climbed onto her side, replacing the pillow and blanket until everything was as it should be.

“Goodnight, Finnick.”

“Goodnight.”

・・・Ψ・・・

She awoke to the rays of the early morning sun peaking through the windows, her limbs stretching out into the unoccupied space around her. At some point during the night, she had managed to travel from the leftmost side of the bed to the center of it with no sign of Finnick left save for the indentation of his body in the mattress. Upon reaching out to his side of the bed, it was clear from the lack of leftover body heat that he had not been there for a while. Her first instinct traveled towards fear but she knew that Finnick knew better–knew better than her–to try anything.

She slid her feet down to the floor, stretching her arms overhead as she made her way to the kitchen. A plate of food, wrapped delicately so as not to spoil, greeted her as she entered. She slipped it all back into the oven and set the timer, idly sitting on the granite countertop as she waited. Other than her breakfast, there was no sign of Finnick in the house and as the oven timer slowly ticked away, she was getting more and more anxious to locate him.

Throwing on a more respectable pair of shorts and her sandals, she made her way to the previously uncharted back porch. The sliding glass door gave way to a breathtaking view, the sun hanging just above the horizon as waves rolled onto a silvery shore. It was similar to the beaches of their district but it held such a pristine condition that it was like looking at a painting. Indeed, it was practically uncanny the way the horizon line was uncut by fishing boats or city skylines. There was all but a single silhouette that disrupted or maybe added to the picture: Finnick out on the shoreline, casting his fishing rod out to sea.

“You’re up early,” She called out to him, making her way down the beach. The corner of his lips upturned as she reached his side but his eyes stayed trained on the water.

“Had to be,” Finnick replied, “I was losing space by the minute. You sleep like you belong in one of these tidepools.”

"Excuse me?" She laughed incredulously, kicking a splash of water at him.

Finnick ducked out of the way, the fishing line shifting with him as he explained, "like a Starfish.” She shook her head before burying her face in her hands, still laughing. “I thought maybe with the bigger bed we’d be past this but–” He was unable to finish as he received a well-deserved but playful smack on the arm.

There were a few moments where the only sounds surrounding them were the lap of the waves on the shore and a cluster of seabirds out to catch their next meal. She watched as Finnick started to reel in the line and scoffed.

“What?” He countered.

“You have no patience,” She smirked, pushing him just for the fun of it.

“Listen, I’m fishing for your lunch and if you don’t want to starve, I have to recast,” Finnick huffed in response. She spared him another word, choosing instead to raise her eyebrows in a knowing glance. Watching him in action however, it was nearly impossible not to comment.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” She knew she could just let it go for his technique wasn’t that offensive but the childish scowl that already sat on his face was too good to resist.

“That cast!”

“What was wrong with my cast?” The way he naturally stood taller at the accusation was hard not to laugh at but she needed to keep a more serious tone if she really wanted to tease.

“What wasn’t wrong with it?” She scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Rich boy forgot he’s from District 4.” Finnick glared at her a moment before reeling in his line, grumbling to himself all the while.

As he steadied the line in his head he added, “You know, I was having a nice time before you got here.”

She shoved him lightly as she pursed her lips,“Ha, ha, you know you like it better when I’m around.”

Finnick hummed, clearly fighting a grin.

“Here,” She circled around Finnick, her arms ghosting over his own for a moment of hesitation before she took hold of them. Her arms barely fit around Finnick’s torso but she made do, practically bear-hugging him from behind.

“I think I know how to-”

She cut him off with a shush and, in a single practiced movement, threw their arms out in an arch, a perfect cast hitting the water just beyond the waves. “That’s how it’s done.”

They sat there together waiting to go in until they had a sizable catch to show for their efforts as they continued to do morning after morning, though with two rods rather than one. It was like that for a good part of their trip: finding a routine and sticking to it. It was easy enough to fall into friendly conversation knowing where they would be when and what they were going to do. What tensions there had been between them gradually faded away as they distanced themselves from all they had been through in less than a year. It was nearly impossible to fathom how she was spending her days lazing around the beach when she had already received what she thought would be her death sentence.

Besides fishing, they spent a lot of their days reading from the small collection of books they could find around the house or rather she spent a lot of time reading, after Finnick fell asleep following the first couple chapters she would read aloud. As the heat died off in the evening, they would share dinners before heading out to the beach to take a swim. Neither of them had suffered their usual nightmares as they were too sundrunk to do more than pass out as they hit the bed each night.

・・・Ψ・・・

One night a storm passed through, nothing that would cause them to have to worry about the house but still strong enough to disturb the waves, thunder rumbling through the darkness. They were in bed early and, having spent a majority of the day inside, Finnick was especially restless as he laid listening to the sound of rainfall. He had his back turned to his girl knowing that if she knew he was awake, she would stay up no matter how tired she was just for his sake. It seemed this made little difference as he could hear her tossing and turning behind him. They’d been laying there for what he’d guess to be about an hour when she spoke.

“Finnick,” She whispered, “Finnick, are you still up?”

He rubbed his eyes quickly before rolling over, “Yeah, what is it?” In the dim light it was hard to distinguish her expression but there was clearly some sort of hesitance and Finnick wondered if she already regretted grabbing his attention. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just,” She paused briefly, catching her breath, “I was just thinking and I realized…well, I never really thanked you for everything you did for me.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, I-, I do.” There was another moment before she seemed to make up her mind and leaned forward, running tentative fingers along the curve of his cheek, “Thank you for everything, for taking care of me.” Finnick was grateful for the darkness for he couldn’t have stood to let her seem him blush. It was unusual for him, given all that he had experienced, and it was a very tame gesture after all.

“I just hope you know that, when it’s all said and done, I tried my best…for you…for both of us,” He sighed, wishing he had the words to express what he felt, to make up for all the harsh ones he had used in anger.

“I know,” She affirmed, “It couldn’t have been easy…what you went through.”

“I never meant to choose for you, to take away your freedom. All I wanted was to keep you from what I had to do, had to be. I would’ve done anything to keep you from that. This–” Finnick gestured vaguely between them, “this was Snow’s way.”

“I know,” She echoed with a sad smile. There was silence once more and Finnick felt vulnerable laying face to face with her like an open wound ready to be cut deeper. “What was it like?” She asked after a moment. His stomach dropped.

“What?” Finnick knew what she was referring to but she wanted to hear her say it again, to make sure he had really heard her. Never had anyone asked him how he felt about what Snow made him do because those who knew didn’t care about him and those who cared about him didn’t know. He could never bring himself to tell his mother what he had been put up to for he couldn’t stand to tarnish the image she held of her son.

“What Snow had you do, I mean, I can’t even imagine.”

Finnick hesitated, words echoing through his mind. Dirty, filthy, disgusting. He could stop the conversation there, say he was tired and turn over to go back to pretending to sleep, preserving his dignity. But the way she looked at him so earnestly, like she was prepared to hear whatever he had to say, what had for so long gone unknown by anybody but him, he was left with no choice. So, he told her everything, every thought that crossed his mind as he thought back on years of his life that he had tried his very best to forget. He told her about the money, the gifts, the secrets. He told her about the shame and the pain both physical and emotional. While it was terrifying, it was equally liberating, every word another weight off his shoulders and, above all, the way she looked at him never changed.

When he was finished, she told him about herself, about her childhood growing up in the orphanage after losing her mother, about how she had felt in the games. All together it was like meeting someone brand new even though they had been by each others’ sides for months. Problem after problem after problem kept them from really ever getting to know each other and while Finnick regretted not doing it sooner, he felt privileged to get to know her at all

“My mother never would’ve let me get away with that,” Finnick laughed, sitting propped up against the headboard as she told a story about a rogue boating incident.

“It’s easy when you don’t have one looking after you,” She laughed but her eyes quickly widened and shone with regret. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”

Finnick shook his head, though the memory of what had happened left a gaping hole in his chest, “It’s fine, I…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. His mind raced with the memories, “I guess I just feel like it was my fault. If I would’ve just listened-” Finnick’s throat was closing up as he tried to blink away tears.

“No, Finnick,” She grabbed the sides of his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “It could never be your fault. It was Snow who did that, Snow who forced us to do what we’ve done.” He could do nothing but nod, his voice swallowed by sobs he was struggling to contain. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Finnick was doing all he could to ground himself, holding onto her arms as if it was all that was tethering him to the earth. “I did it for you. The flint.”

“What?”

“I slept with a client without Snow’s permission to get you the sponsor. Its my fault she’s dead but I couldn’t let you die, I did everything I could-”

She hushed him and pulled him into a hug, running her fingers through his hair. He could feel her heartbeat racing, short bursts of breath exiting her lungs as she grappled with what he’d told her.

She pulled away, looking him in the eyes. “Why, Finnick? Why would you do that?” She was crying in earnest now too.

As he stared at his girl, he realized that she was all he had left, Mags growing sicker by the year and his family dead at Snow’s hands, she was his future. The moment of clarity knocked all breath from his lungs and he could do nothing but stare at the woman who sat across from him, holding his cracked heart together with nothing but her gentle hands.

“Finnick,” She cried for him, “Say something please I-”

“I love you.” The words rushed out, almost drowned out by the noise of thunder and rain from outside, but he knew she heard them. He saw the way her face shifted, from shock, to confusion until finally melting into something he could only categorize as affection. His wife let out a watery gasp and surged forward, her lips meeting his own, the salt on their faces mingling as they allowed themselves to deepen the kiss.

“I love you.”

Her face wasn’t like that of his clients back in the Capitol when she said it, covered in lust and repeating those three words over and over to get him to do as they wanted. No, her face was an open book, every emotion laid bare to him in that moment, despair, sincerity, love. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known, and he loved her.

Slow and hesitant he leaned back in, meeting her lips with his own, waiting for her to return the kiss. Finnick’s hands slid around her waist then, as she kissed him back in confidence, her own hands sliding their way along his back. As the storm raged on outside, their gasps were mute to the world, hands and ragged breathes no one’s but their own. At nineteen, Finnick had gotten used to the meaninglessness of sex but now, laying here in the dark with his wife, he felt a fire ignite within him.

WIth ease, Finnick laid her onto her back, straddling her as they kissed, only breaking apart to breathe. He trailed kisses down her neck, biting and sucking his way down, drawing soft mewls from her lips as he went. Her fingers were gripping his hair, flexing every time he moved to a new spot. He went to pull off his shirt when she stopped him.

“Finnick, Finnick wait…stop.” As soon as he heard the word he halted all his actions.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I-”

“No listen,” She looked up at him, concern drawing her eyebrows together. “Are you sure you want this?” She was looking anywhere but his face as she asked. “This isn’t about what Snow said is it?”

“No, no,” He assured, trying to get her to look at him. “I want this, I want you.” He smiled down at her.

She returned his smile with her own. “Good. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to ever again.”

His concern melted away and he felt his chest warm. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Finnick couldn’t stop himself from grinning if he tried, instead opting to take off his shirt, his girl’s eyes taking him in as he did. Since they’d been ready for bed, there had been few clothes to remove before they were bare before one another, and Finnick drank in the sight.

“You’re beautiful.” Finnick kissed his way from her neck to the insides of her thighs, stopping to pepper in compliments along the way.

Finnick held himself in his hand, lining his way up with her entrance and slowly he pressed in, savoring the feeling as they moaned in harmony. It wasn’t long until he was fully sheathed inside and panting in her ear. Her nails scratched his back as he began to move in time with their breaths, slowly picking up speed as he went.

He wanted this, the woman he loved beneath him with no expectations from the outside world involved. His hands grasped for anything he could find, each and every soft surface of her. Finnick rolled his hips, following the pleasure she was squeezing out of him. He brought his hand down between them, his fingers looking for her clit in order to help her along and when his fingers finally met their target she moaned.

“Yes, Finnick!” She cried and clung to his neck.

Spurred on by her words Finnick sped up both his fingers and thrusts, the noise of it all echoing through the room. Their tongues swirled together as they kissed, swallowing the words each of them babbled as they came closer and closer to their undoing. It was only a few more seconds before she was screaming his name, Finnick following close after. It took all his strength not to collapse atop of her in exhaustion and instead rolled off of her.

With his remaining consciousness, Finnick pulled his girl to his side, tucking her to his body and using his hand to massage up and down her back. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder in response, using her own fingers to glide trails down his chest until her breath evened out.

Yeah, Finnick thought, I love her.

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick laid on the front porch, soaking in the last rays of the sun as it set, the ocean cool breeze lulling him into a gentle doze. His eyes were nearly shut when the scrappy mutt who had finally followed him home from one of his morning runs, hopped onto his chest covering him with sand as he licked the sweat from his face.

It had been a couple weeks since they had returned home from their honeymoon, the first part having been spent doing president-mandated interviews about the experience. While they kept most of the details to themselves, it was far easier to play up the happily married couple act now that it wasn’t so much of an act at all. When they were fully off the hook, they began their next project: making their house a home.

They had repainted the walls of every room from dull sleek grays and beiges to vibrant cool colors. It was a shared effort that took longer than it might take one person as more paint typically ended up on their person than on the walls but the whole ordeal ended with laughs and a kiss. They went out to the market looking for handmade decor or second hand pieces to fix up and bring home. As a surprise, his girl even commissioned a local artist to make a portrait of his mother from an old photo she had found. While there was still more to be done, their house already looked less like a museum exhibit and more like an inhabited residence.

Finnick was suddenly jolted from his daze as his name was called from inside the house, the dog running into the house at the noise. He cursed to himself as he stepped inside wishing he’d had a chance to wipe down the mutt before it tracked sand in the house.

“Finnick!” His wife called again with more urgency. He picked up his pace, rushing into their bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. Finnick crouched on his knees by her side, gently tugging her arms from her face.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I’m-” a sob broke through her lips again, “pregnant.” His stomach dropped at her words and he knew that if he wasn’t already on his knees, they would’ve buckled. There were a million thoughts immediately surging through his mind but the one most prevalent was the importance of comforting his wife.

“That-, that’s-”

“Finnick, I can’t raise a family in a world like this,” She cried. He silently agreed but there was no point in making her feel worse than he knew she was already feeling.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Finnick took her face in his hands, trying to keep his breath steady in a way that she could mirror. “It’ll be okay, I’m here for you.” She grasped his wrists tightly, shaking her head.

“I won’t see them go into the games. Finnick,” Her fear and exasperation steeled to determination as she met his gaze unflinchingly, “I won’t.”

“That might never happen–”

“You know it’s rigged and with not one but two victors as parents…” She broke down into another sob, slinking out of his grip to cover her eyes again. Finnick searched for something, anything that would not only be worth saying but would hold some semblance of truth, of actual hope. He rose to her level, sitting beside her on the bed and took a long sigh praying to whatever higher power there might be that this conversation would remain private.

“I’ve heard…talk amongst the districts, the other victors.”

She lifted her head, her arms slowly coming down to her sides and Finnick took one of her hands in his own as he looked at that connection rather than in her eyes. He had heard things from other victors as they made their rounds in the Capitol just like him. At first, he wrote it off as the same propaganda that anyone who suffered the Games would’ve been willing to believe. That was until it became so common, it couldn’t be ignored and legitimate plans of action were beginning to spread. It was nothing he could guarantee to her and if anyone found out that he had told her, they would both likely be killed but if he could ensure even a glimmer of hope for their future he would do it.

“Something called…the mockingjay.”

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