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

Summary: The games begin

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

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

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Chapter 8: The Arena Pt. 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

30 minutes. 

20 minutes. 

10 minutes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

Desert? 

Forest?

Snowy Tundra? 

Coliseum? 

The possibilities were endless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Tags: @randomgurl2326

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 3

Summary: (Y/n) is a horse girl.

A/n: I love Pradain

Pt.2 Pt.1

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Chapter 3: The Capitol

Buckley’s laughter subsided as the train stopped. Pradain hurriedly gathered his belongings and made sure the two of you were ready and presentable. 

“God, we’ve got to do something about that blood-stained shirt of yours.” Pradain said, looking around the room. “You, give her your shirt.” He ordered Ramsey, who was already unbuttoning his flannel. 

The tall mentor draped his cologne-drenched flannel on top of you and you fixed it onto your body. “Thank you.” 

The station was large, the structure looked so futuristic you wondered how they managed to build it up so high. 

“Alright, so first you’re going to go check in.” Dolly explained to the two of you. “Then you’ll get taken in to get groomed.” She continued. 

“After that you’ll meet your assigned stylist and you’ll get your clothes fitted onto you.” Ramsey butted in. “After that we head to the chariots. There’s time in between where the tributes just wait, so you’ll have time to scope out the tributes, don’t form any alliances yet.” 

“Save that for the training days, and don’t make enemies.” Dolly said, looking both of you and Buckley in the face. 

“So… When do we get to eat?” Buckley said, looking around for any signs of animals. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that bud. You have about a week or so to enjoy the food.” Ramsey said. 

Your little group walked and you could see other trains arrive behind yours. Up ahead were other groups, walking into the station that would lead to one of the city's entrances. 

“‘S kinda cold,” Buckley whispered to you. 

“It is, isn't it? Not warm and cozy like home.” You said a little sarcastically commenting on the Texan heat. 

It felt like miles until you made it to the Capitol’s entrance. Your mouth was open like a little kid witnessing Christmas lights for the first time. The Capitol looked advanced yet so bland. There were people everywhere crowding around barriers to witness the tributes fresh from the trains. You felt like a zoo animal, everyone’s eyes trying to peek at you. 

When you made it to the tribute building you had to line up with the female tributes as the workers pricked your fingers and gave you a quick physical. The people here looked so clean. Not a single blemish on their skin. Even their beauty marks were drawn on. You wondered if they were even human. To you it seemed like an alternate universe run by alien creatures. 

You managed to look over at the male tribute line looking for Buckley. Unfortunately, your eyes caught green-blue eyes with a brown tint. He raised a blonde eyebrow at you and you quickly looked away from the tall boy. 

Dolly led you to some doors and behind them were people who were dressed in white smocks holding magnifying glasses. The victor handed you over to a tall dark skinned lady and  a shorter man with green eyebrows. 

“(Y/n), these are Silica and Depil. Now don’t be scared, they’re not going to hurt you, they're only here to help you ok? You’ll be fine.” The curly haired woman told you as the  pair grabbed you by your arms and led you into a room with copious white lights. 

“We got a lot to work with.” Silica said as she handed you a hospital gown. “Put this on, take off everything.” She instructed you as she and her partner gathered their first materials. 

They hosed you off first then threw some white powder all over your body- your guess was that they were trying to de-flea you, not like you needed it anyways. They rinsed you again, this time scrubbing your body. It felt so dehumanizing. You had to zone out in order to not cry through the whole thing. The two worked to wax you, groom your facial hair, and polish your nails until they were sparkling. They even cut a few inches off your hair, making it a little shorter than how you liked it. 

When they were done they rolled their carts away, leaving you alone to look at yourself. The smell was fragrant, sweet almost like candy. It was good and you couldn’t help but sniff your arms where the perfume lingered. Mid sniff was when your stylist walked in. She wore a huge purple wig that ran down her back. Her caramel skin shimmered with glitter as she stepped into the lit room. Her icy blue eyes looked at you and she smiled, “Oh you’re the perfect canvas,” She said, and you couldn’t help but notice the gems on her teeth, 

“Hello darling, I’m Sashay.” She greeted you, her skin-tight outfit hugging her body as she shimmied closer to you. “Now, you’re from 10 right?” 

“Yes.” You told her, eyes fixed on her beauty. 

“(Y/n)? Right? Or do you prefer something else?” She asked, picking up your arm which you retracted at first but then eased into her touch. 

“(Y/n)’s fine.” Your body shifted on the cold metallic bed. 

“Alright well, I want to congratulate you for being so brave.” She started taking your hand. “I’m going to style you during your time here. I’m here to make sure you look stunning in the eyes of the Capitol.” Sashay smiled, kissing your hand. “Do you have any questions?” 

You could still feel the ghost stings of the wax strips as you stood up to walk to Sashay’s studio. “Not at the moment.” 

“Alright then.” 

The two of you walked into her studio where colorful clothing littered the racks they were hung on. She had a portfolio displayed on an easel, and a large sketch of a cowgirl outfit on another. 

“Me and Buckley’s stylist worked together on these.” She said holding up a clothing hanger containing your outfit. 

On the hanger was a cowboy button up, it was white and gold and had tassels alongside the arms. The bottoms were golden chaps, also tassel. Just as you were about to ask where the rest of the pants were, Sashay turned to you. 

“You’ll be wearing shorts with those.” She told you. “There’s a matching hat and boots.” Sashay tells you as she gets out her sketchpad and pencil and begins to scribble on it while staring at you intensely. 

“I’ll help you get dressed in a moment dear.” She speaks, her sultry voice powerful. 

Red creeps up to your face. Were you actually going to wear this costume? Your legs would be out and about in front of millions of people. You were nervous to say the least. You wondered if Buckley would have to wear the same exact thing. 

“So cowboys huh?” Cowboys were basically eradicated 50 years ago, since the President thought they were a group of rebels. Of course he wasn’t wrong, but cowboy and vaquero culture had been long gone from 10. “Isn’t that against the rules?” You asked, but you were glad that you weren’t going out dressed as a giant chicken or pig.

“Oh please sweetie, last year the tributes from 12 were practically naked. There are no rules when it comes to fashion. Except the ones that prevent people from wearing horrendous clothes.” Sashay tells you as she finishes her sketch. “Alright then love, let’s make you pretty. 

Taking a huff of air you nodded and hesitantly took off the hospital gown. Sashay delicately placed the golden undergarments on your body, soon following them up with the actual costume. “Hair and makeup will be done by your grooming team.” She explained as she buttoned up the shirt. “So hold onto the hat and put it on when you’re on your chariot.” She buckled the belt on you, making sure the chaps weren’t falling off. 

“Sadly I couldn’t get you a lasso, it would’ve added so much, but Snow said no props.” Her hands tied a little bolo tie around you. “You look so dashing.” She stepped away to take in her work. 

You felt like a little girl’s doll. The costume fit you well, except Sashay had to pin a few things into place and sew in an extra button. You held onto the golden hat and looked at her with scared eyes. She pointed to a mirror covered by a curtain. As you walked to it and flung the curtain to the side you almost gasped. This was the first time you saw yourself since arriving. Your hair was shiny, your skin looked flawless- all previous scars were gone, the costume hugged you in all the right places. The only thing really bugging you was the lack of pants, though the chaps managed to cover a majority of your legs. The little golden shorts were too skimpy for your taste, but you had to admit that Sashay really worked her magic on you. 

“Come on now, 15 minutes until curtain. Let’s see if Silica and Depil can work under pressure. Oh who am I kidding? Of course they can!” She laughed as she took you out of her studio and back out into the grooming room. 

“No time- turns out we start at 10.” Depil says, his brows straight and serious. “We’re gonna have to walk and work.” He told Sashay as Silica came to your right side. Together the two pampered your face with creams and oils, brushing color into your skin as the four of you walked out the building into an overpass leading to an outdoor stadium. Once you were out there your vision was filled with chaos. 

There were tributes still getting dressed, chariots the size of two cows, tributes boarding said chariots, and mentors walking around and socializing. 

“Goodness Depil, you’ve got to get that clock fixed. We have 20 minutes until the chariots start.” Sashay scolded, realizing there was no need to rush. 

“My bad.” The green haired man apologizes as he seats you down to work on your hair. 

He works quickly, braiding your hair then lifting it up into a milkmaid hairstyle. He added golden tinsel extensions to your hair, creating the illusion of twinkling locks. Gold eyeshadow was patted all over your lids, a sweet cream of gloss added to your lips, and as the finishing touch- they unbuttoned the top two buttons on your shirt. 

“Stunning.” 

“Gorgeous.” 

“Fabulous work.” 

The team of three admired you. 

“My goodness you made her so pretty!” A lady who Sashay called Effie smiled brightly, as she awed at you. 

Warmth filled your face and a shy smile found its way to your lips. “Thank you for your hard work.” You said bowing your head in a slight curtsey. 

“Thank you for cooperating (Y/n.)” Sashay grinned. 

Dolly eventually ended her conversation with another mentor and came over to ogle at you as well. “I’m not just saying this because I’m your mentor, but I think you’re the prettiest one here.” She winked. 

“You can say that again.” A voice came from behind you. It was Buckley. He too was wearing an outfit similar to yours, except he had actual pants. The front two buttons on his shirt were undone as well. 

“You look like your dad.” Came your reply trying to avert the comment. 

District 10 was one where everyone knew everyone. You included. You had previously met Buckley’s dad before his passing, he was quite kind to you and Amaranto, in fact he was one of the people who suggested you start working out at the slaughterhouse to make more ends meat. 

“Damn, Do I look that old already?” He joked, looking at himself in the reflection of your eyes. 

“Alright Kiddos, all you gotta do is go on the chariots and wave. It’s like a parade-” Ramsey said behind Buckley. 

“It is a parade.” Dolly corrected. “You need to make the crowd love you so smile, blow kisses, throw out a few winks if you need to.” 

“Oh! Tip your hats, they’ll love that.” Pradain said emerging with a wine glass. “You two look stunning.” He complimented. 

“First time you’ve said something nice to us.” Buckley said with a joking smile. 

As your little district 10 team chatted away, your gaze wandered around the room. You had to admit, your costumes were one of the best. The first place prize has to go to the tributes from 12. They looked sharp in their all black costumes, made them look powerful even. District 11 wore clothes similar to the fancy clothes in 10, and you wondered why their stylist didn’t put more effort into their costumes. As you scanned the room your eye was caught by another pair of gold wearing tributes. The careers from two, armored with gold plates. It was obvious their costumes had to be the most expensive ones. You were almost done looking at the other tributes when pink filled your eyes. 

Like a routine you made eye contact with the male from 1. He looked silly in the shimmering pink outfit and you tilted your head in confusion. He took notice and grinned, his own eyes looking you up and down before the girl from 1 snapped him back into the conversation she was having with their mentors. 

“Don’t stare too much.” Ramsey whispered to you. “They might think you want to kill them.” 

Nodding you spent the rest of your wait time talking to Dolly, asking her about her time in the capitol when she was a tribute in the games. Immediately you could hear the roars and cheers of the citizens as more of them began to fill the stadium’s seats. As if on time your heart started beating and the realization that you would be out in a crowd of people made you break into a sweat. As your head began to spin and the room seemed more cramped a harsh poke distracted you from your thoughts. 

“(Y/n), Look!” Buckley exclaimed, attracting stares. “Horses!” 

Whatever nerves you had were gone out the window when your eyes landed on the dark elegant creatures that trotted gracefully into view. 

“Horses..” A whisper came from your mouth and you were teleported to your childhood. 

The golden sun sets on the dry grass as your laughs fill the scene. Your mother with (h/c) hair and (s/c) skin waves you towards her as she grips onto the hair of a horse. Her boots bounce slightly at the sides of the animal as it trots her further along the field. You follow closely behind her, gaining speed as your own surpasses her. “Look Ma! Bet ya can’t catch up to me!” You giggle as you continue to ride into the light. 

Without warning your legs move you towards the black animal. The handler looks at you curiously but her face relaxes as you pet the animal’s side. Slowly more horses come in, each of them assigned to a chariot. You had forgotten all about the horses, since the cameras only ever focus on tributes and their faces. 

“They’re beautiful.” You tell Buckley as the two of you stare at them longingly. “I wanna ride one.” 

“What?” He looks at you as if you’re crazy. “You can’t be serious right?” 

“Dolly said all we had to do was get their attention.” You reminded him. 

“That is true… Do you even remember how?” He asked, “Is that even allowed?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to find out.” You said with a determination that Buckley hadn’t seen since middle school. 

The stage directors flooded the area once there was three minutes left. They ordered everyone onto their respective chariots while stylists did their finishing touches. Your team waved at you as the chariots were ordered, the first one heading out already as the drums played them in. One by one the chariots were let out, your turn inching closely. You had a plan however, a plan so crazy you had zero chance of knowing if it would work. Buckley watched you intently, wondering if your crazy ass would actually go through with it. 

You waited for your chance. Outside the people were cheering at the tributes, throwing flowers at the ones they liked, hooting and hollering at the ones they really liked. The announcers’ commentary boomed throughout the stadium, their backhanded compliments making the Capitol citizens giggle. As your chariot neared the path 's opening you hopped off the chariot, making Buckley laugh and your mentors curse profanely.

“What the hell are you doing, get back on!” They yelled as peacekeepers were starting to make their way to you. 

The tributes both in front and behind you looked at your chariot wondering what all the commotion was. Hastily you ran up to the animal, struggling to get up on the horse. You repeatedly apologized to the horse as you grabbed onto its hair and finally fixed yourself on top of it. The horse neighed and bucked around a bit as you finally got out the arch and into the path of the parade. 

“What the!” Caesar Flickerman exclaimed as the cameras focused in on you. 

“What in the Capitol’s gem is happening ?” His fellow commentator yelled. 

You struggled to calm the horse down, your body tightening its grip so as to not fall off the horse. 

“Careful!” Buckley told you. 

“I got it!” You exclaimed as you soothed the horse. “SHhh it's ok, it's alright.” You had no idea how lucky you had gotten.

 The horse finally calmed down and you were finally able to look up at the crowd. Your face was being displayed on the holographic banners, the cheers and screams so loud your ears began to ring. Buckley waved eagerly, tipping his hat and taking it off to wave with it. You smiled, out of joy- not for being the star of the minute, but for being able to ride a horse for the first time after a long time. Your hand went up to wave at the crowd and people were smiling at you, throwing roses and other accessories at both you and Buckley. 

“What a hoot!” Flickerman laughed, “(Y/n) Cuernos  from district 10! Riding one of the chariot horses! You don’t see that everyday!” He smiled at the camera. 

“Now those tributes are proud members of 10, look at them! They’re quite brave aren’t they?” The other announcer said, “And those hats! Who knew an old worker’s hat could look so dapper!” 

Eventually the cheers died out, the crowd erupting once again and louder when the tributes from 12 came out, their bodies on fire, yet not burning. As the chariot reached the end you came face to face with other victors who were already displayed below the president.  One haunting almost threatening stare stuck with you. It was the tribute from 2. The one with golden armor. He clapped his hands as you trotted by, his green eyes not leaving your person once. During the president’s speech you looked over and of course he was still boring eyes into your clothes. 

As the tributes were dismissed you could hear Buckley from behind you on the chariot. “There’s the (Y/n) I remember.” He said, his accent thick on your name. 

“They’re gonna kill me aren’t they?” You asked the boy. 

“Oh yeah. Dolly’s gonna freak.” He chuckled. 

And of course he was right. When the two of you got backstage, a furious Dolly was fuming. Ramsey helped you off the horse and patted your back. “You are one crazy son of a bitch.” He laughed. 

“(Y/n)! What the hell were you thinking!” She said, her hand on your shoulder. 

“You told me to-” 

“I told you to get their attention! Not ride the damn horse!” She huffed. 

“I think she got their attention alright.” Pradain said, sipping his glass of wine. 

“You’re gonna get us in trouble!” Dolly feared. 

“Please, she’ll be fine. If anything they’ll take it out on her in the arena.” Ramsey soothed the curly haired mentor. 

Buckley only smiled at the interaction. 

“Well if it isn't a little Miss Badass.” A deep voice interrupted your exchange with the mentors. Turning around you spotted the blonde haired roman soldier from 2. “You’re smart, you know that? What you did out there.” He continued. His presence was threatening, you felt as if he was going to kill you then and there. “That was a good move on your part 10, stealing all my sponsors.” He shook his head disapprovingly. He wore a menacing smile. It was far from friendly. “Can’t wait to see what else you have up your sleeve. If you even have anything up there.” He finished before walking back to his team. 

“The hell is his problem?” Buckley asked, standing in front of you as to shield you from the career’s stare. 

“Don’t know and don’t want to find out.” You replied. “How is it that I already made an enemy?” You asked. 

“That’s Cato from 2.” A district 7 girl told you as she walked by, taking her headpiece off and placing it on a nearby table. “I heard he’s a real jerk. Threatened one of the Avoxes for  bumping into him before the parade started.” She finished. 

Slowly your pupil went to the corner of your eyes, seeing if you could get another glance at the unit of a tribute. Unfortunately for you, his gaze was permanently fixed on you. A smile- that of a psychopath stuck on his lips. 

There was no way you were going to survive the games with him around.

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Tags: @randomgurl2326

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 7

Summary: Interview

A/n: Sorry for any inconsistencies and spelling errors, enjoyyyyyy!

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

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Chapter 7: Interview

The games were Tomorrow. Today was your last day of peace and possibly life. Most of the time today was supposed to be spent preparing for the interview, however, Dolly and Rasmey gave you two or three hours of bliss before having to prepare. 

You were positive Buckley was out in the rose garden with Dolly. It was only natural for him to want to be outside instead of cooped in like you. Ramsey had come in to check on you twice but eventually stopped when he assumed you were sleeping. In reality, you were crying. Crying the whole two hours mourning the fact that you’d never get to see the faces of your family again. 

You remembered Amaranto and how the two of you would’ve been having breakfast together at this time. Or how you would have packed your Pa a lunch to take to work. You thought about those Sunday afternoons spent sitting on the dry grass with a blanket, just the three of you talking about life and reminiscing about your mother, occasionally eating something special when they’d work overtime. 

You thought about the times you spent with Clarabell in the angry rivers, scared out of your mind that a peacekeeper would come and hurt you both, but having so much fun in the water that you forgot that they even existed in the first place. 

Your mind went to Buckley. It was crazy how you went from greeting each other in the morning at school to being with each other every day. He looked out of place in the Capitol, and so did you. It was odd seeing someone from home on the screen, but you guessed that’s how he felt about you too. The two of you had grown closer than you would have ever at home. That’s when you started realizing that you should’ve appreciated everything you had at home instead of slowly isolating yourself as you grew up. 

Wiping the snot from your nose you decided to get up and wash your face. The clock read 12, and that meant it was time for your mentors to get you interview-ready. The actual interview itself was to start at 6 pm. However, you still had to practice your speech and what you were going to say to several different questions. The whole point was to make you appealing to not only the sponsors but the Capitol as a whole. After all, the sooner the tributes get used to the Capitol’s mannerisms, the better the victor will adapt. 

“Alright, let's try this again.” It had been thirteen minutes and Pradain was still struggling to get you to sit up straight. 

“Come on, we started an hour ago, I’m sure they can learn how to sit up straight later. What’s important is that we get them to speak clearly and with charm.” Dolly protested as Pradain pressed a hand to your back to get you upright. 

Pradain’s outfit consisted of satin gloves, and a matching dress that towered to his ankles, his feet adorned with five-inch  platforms. It was beyond you how he had learned to walk in those. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Dolly, this is a must when it comes to Capitol mannerisms. Now up!” Groaning you forcefully sat up, your shoulders still drooping.

“Ah! See- I thought you were shaped weird, but you’re just not lifting your shoulders.” He clasped his hands onto them, bringing them up and fixing your head’s posture. “See? That wasn’t too bad. Now let’s do it again.” He instructed, 

You looked over at Buckley- who had a scarf tied around him and the chair, propping him up straight. “I think I got it.” The poor boy pleaded to be untied. 

“You stay. And you,” He pointed at you, “Up!” 

Ramsey rolled his eyes. “Alright well, I’m just gonna go ahead and start reading these questions. Ramsey was already dressed in his suit claiming that he didn’t want to put it on later, so he decided to put it on now. 

He shuffled through some cards with common interview questions. “Alright, Buck-o this one’s for you. How would you describe home?” 

Buckley perked up, “Easy- Home is-” 

“AH! This isn’t a test, it's an interview. Tell them why you like home, what makes it special. Start with, ‘Well, home to me is-’” Pradain scolded Buckley. 

“Right, ok.” He nodded and looked at Ramsey to reread the card. 

“How would you describe home?” You looked over at Dolly, your face bored and uninterested. She noticed it and ushered you to pay attention to Buckley, sitting up straight which reminded you to sit up as well. Your back was on fire, you always thought you had an okay posture, but only now knew that it was too forward leaning. 

“Home to me is..” He stopped to think, his nose twitching as he was lost in thought, “Home to me is the yellow sunset, the dirt on my boots after a long day of work, the voices of my siblings arguing over a small toy, the pretty girls fluttering their eyelashes at me, the way their hair falls on their shoulders, and how round their-” 

“Okay, no stop- you’re getting distracted.” You laughed at Buckley’s response, starting nicely but going off-topic. 

“Alright then, at least you’ll make them laugh. You’ve got a good voice too Buckley, nice start.” Dolly tried making the best of things. 

“Same Question for you (Y/n). How would you describe home?” Ramsey put the cards down, his tired eyes looking at you as he waited for your response. 

“Any time now.” Spoke up Pradain. 

“Home to me is…Home to me is.” There was about a three-second pause, “My Brother. My Pa. Our little house by the wheat fields, and the river that runs through 10.” It wasn’t much, but it’s all that could come to mind. 

“That’s a start.” Dolly smiled. 

“We need you to say more, and don’t be afraid to get emotional, the Capitol loves that. They eat it up.” Ramsey crossed his legs. “We’re gonna have a long day.” He sighed. 

4 pm came quicker than anticipated. In the period you’d been practicing you were able to learn to project your voice, and Buckley learned how to be quieter. The two of you learned some fancy words, though you doubted you’d use them in a genuine sentence. 

Sashay and the rest of the stylists waited for you down at the stylist quarters where you were ready to get replucked like a chicken. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but the stinging feeling was still there. After you got bathed, they began working on your hair. Its (H/c) color being amplified and made brighter as they put some chemicals on it. It smelled foul, far worse than the cow poop at home. 

Your nails were painted black and white, You mentally groaned knowing where this was going. When your hair was finally dried they worked to braid it, putting some turquoise accessories on you before handing you to Sashay. 

She smiled brightly at you and kissed your cheek, “My my don’t you look beautiful.” She complimented taking your hand and leading you to the hanger where a long sleek cow print dress hung. It looked to have fur on it, and you assumed it’d come from home. 

“You’re going to look amazing.” She said excitedly as she instructed you to take your robe off. Sashay herself was dressed in all black, contrasting with what Dolly was wearing- white. You assumed the whole theme surrounding 10 would be cow print, and you were right. She helped you put the dress on, making some adjustments while it was on you so it would hug your figure better. It draped down longer on one end, the other end having a slit and exposing much of your leg. Below you wore some high-heeled boots that you thought looked ridiculous, but Sashay seemed enamored by them. She adjusted a belt on your hips- also containing hints of turquoise, and finally a necklace on you, tying the look together. 

“Oh!” She sighed clasping her hands together, “(Y/n), when you go home I guarantee you every man will want your hand in marriage.” She cooed as she circled you. “Perfect, now all we need is makeup.” The lady sat you down for another hour and a half of makeup application. You liked Sashay, she was more level-headed than Pradain and had such eloquence to her, however, the mix of having to speak in front of millions, and the games being tomorrow was not settling in right. Ramsey had to ask Pradain for a pill that would calm down your stomach. 

Sashay was escorting you out to the backstage area where Dolly and Ramsey were waiting. Ramsey was wearing black, Pradain opting to wear white, both of them sticking to the theme Pradain and Sashay had planned. You looked around for Buckley but he was nowhere in sight. 

“Wow.” Ramsey let out a long whistle, “You do not look like yourself at all.” He said admiring Sashay’s work. 

“(Y/n), you look stunning.” Dolly’s mouth was agape as she went to hold your arm and observe you. Your hair had been taken out of the braids, leaving behind curls in its place. 

“I can’t walk in these.” You whispered to her frantically. You didn’t want to fall on stage, but that seemed like something that would happen in your near future. 

She laughed, her smokey eyes closing making it look like she had hollowed eyes, “It’ll be fine, just try not to think about it.” She assured you. 

The stage was light as people began to flood the venue. There were stagehands all over the place, getting things set and ready. More tributes flowed in, you shrank back when you realized how extra Sashay had been with your interview gown since the others looked to be more playful and simple. People kept staring at you as they walked in, and that was a bad thing in your book. Eventually, Buckley came in. His stylist next to him as they chatted about god knows what. When he spotted you he froze slightly, keeping his gaze on you as they made their way to the group.

His hair was slicked back, his face looking more square but in a good way. He had some makeup on, but it was only to even out his tone, his freckles had been redrawn over his real ones since the base of his makeup had covered them. He wore a black suit, with hints of cow print on the inner side and flaps that poked out towards the neck of the suit. His boots matched yours, and he had a belt as big as one of the screens on. The two of you looked like you ran some sort of Texan Casino. 

“(Y/n), You look beautiful.” He complimented, his hands taking yours as he made you spin. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”  He said light-heartedly. 

Buckley’s attention made you flustered and you felt the room get warmer, “I could say the same,” You smiled, “Have you seen your hair?” You asked carefully, poking his gel-held hair. 

“Alright well, we’ll be out in the front row. Look for us alright?” Sashay excused herself and Pradain, leaving the two of you with Dolly and Rasmey. 

“They’re gonna line you up again, two lines- boys and girls.” Ramsey explained, “There’s a screen back here so y’all can watch but don’t miss your cue alright?” He ordered. The two of you nodded. 

“(Y/n), remember what we went over alright?” Dolly caught your gaze. 

Previously you’d spent time with Dolly going over some things you could do to emphasize your image as the Capitol’s cowgirl. Dolly had instructed you to speak with more southern twang than usual, keep a smile and hospitable personality, and speak on the livestock and ‘ranch life’ back at home. All things that would make a District 10 resident roll their eyes, but a Capitol citizen clap and shout. Unfortunately for you, you knew that this whole act would blow up in your face. You wouldn’t get taken seriously by the tributes, and if the small chance of you winning existed, you’d have to keep up the stereotype. 

Your mentors left you to take their seats. There was about an hour until show time, and some makeup artists stuck back to touch up some of the tributes. You and Buckley paced around the backstage, practicing lines with each other, and working on pronunciation. You hadn’t even noticed that the careers had flowed in. Glimmer was wearing a pink poofy dress, far too short for her. The only thing that distracted from her body was her giant blonde hair that cascaded perfectly, but even then she wore body glitter that made her shine. Clove on the other hand wore an orange dress and a hairdo that puffed the top part of her hair up. The two looked at you and laughed, making it obvious that they were laughing at your gown. You couldn’t blame them though. You would’ve laughed at yourself too. Buckley defensively went to stand in front of you to block their view, but it didn’t do much since they’d have to walk past you anyway. 

Behind them came Marvel and Cato. Both their faces were serious as always as they discussed something about weapon quality. You paid no mind to them, knowing that if you did they’d find a way to cause a scene. You weren’t sure why you were their favorite tribute to a bug, but you blamed it all on your stunt on your first day here. As they walked closer Marvel patted Cato on his chest, and the taller male turned to look at where you were standing. 

“Damn, never knew the girls from District 10 could look like that,” Cato said as they walked past the two of you, pretending to be nonchalant although you knew he had purposely said it. 

“Nice dress 10,” Marvel said, eyeing you as he trailed behind Cato. The two of them shook their heads and laughed as they approached the front of the line. 

“If I were a career I think I’d go after those two first.” You told Buckley who gave you an amused smile. 

“If you were a career you’d be with them.” He corrected. It wasn’t far from the truth. In almost every game, the careers were quick to form alliances with each other, alienating the weak from the strong. 

“You ready for the spotlight?” Talking was something you’ve come to realize that you did when you were nervous. Your hand practically shook, and you wore a nervous smile on your face. It was involuntarily there, however as much as you tried you couldn’t get rid of it. 

“No.” His simple reply. “Not too thrilled about it.” He exhaled. He had been holding a straight posture, his shoulders up, turtling his neck. 

“They’ll love you.” You reassured, but it only made him smile, his nerves still present.

 “Just don’t want to be laughed at.” He mentioned. 

The lights were beginning to flicker, meaning that it would soon be time for the show to start. 

You thought about what he had said. “Trust me. No one’s going to laugh at you.” Dolly and you had trained for your interview. Everything you were instructed to say made you look like a country bumpkin. If anything Buckley would be District 10’s saving grace- and you its fool. 

“Wow. You look beautiful.” Came the voice of District 12’s Katniss. It sounded rehearsed, void of any emotion. The same went for the smile she threw at you. 

You returned it and bowed your head. “Please, you’re the one who deserves such praise.” You guessed she was only saying that because her mentors wanted her to make allies in the arena since her high score presented a problem. 

That was the entirety of the exchange. The stage managers lined everyone up in order of appearance, hushing them as the presentation started. Once again you found the insides of your palms to be sweaty. You tried everything to ease your beating heart, deep breaths, pinching yourself, thinking of other things. However, none of them got rid of the sensation in your stomach. You felt like throwing up. 

Up on the screen Caesar Flickerman’s silhouette appeared, his signature ponytail obnoxiously hanging from his head as he leaned back on the chair. His theme song played, the bass so loud you could feel the floor rumbling. Cheers from the crowd erupted. Buckley stood attentive, watching the screen with his hands on his belt, his stance wide to keep himself in balance. From where you stood you could see Marvel and Cato hyping each other up, Glimmer joining in to fix Cato’s neat suit. 

“Let’s bring her out!” It had been a good couple of minutes, though it seemed like seconds as Caesar called out for Glimmer. She was the first one to go. Leaving about 19 people ahead of you. You watched as her clear, shimmery dress bounced as she stepped onto the stage with a huge smile, waving to the crowd. Her hair effortlessly dropped into place, making her look all the more attractive. The crowds were loud. Your eardrums could only handle so much before you reached out to cover them. 

Eventually, it was Marvel’s turn. He seemed so confident in everything he said, you learned just how charismatic he could be. Clove went next, her interview only made you more cautious of her. Soon after it was Cato’s turn. Unlike Marvel, he gave off boisterous energy. Almost as if he was too good to be there. However, the crowd was eating it up. He ended his interview with a hollar and returned backstage. It was almost the two-hour mark, some interviews taking longer since he wanted to give the tributes who didn’t stand out some limelight. Eventually, it was your turn. 

The stage manager came back to look for you, their hand on your shoulder as they walked you up the stairs. You glanced back to catch the reassuring gaze of Buckley, but instead found Marvel’s. He gave you a wink as a token of good luck, and off you were. 

“Now I’m sure we all remember our next tribute from the tribute parade. I mean how could we forget after the thrilling act she performed!” Flickerman emphasized his words, stretching them at the appropriate time. 

A couple of ‘woos’ and whistles came from the crowd as the anticipation built up. “From district 10- (Y/n) Cuernos!” He announced your cue to cross the stage. The lights were extremely bright, you had to look down as you stepped onto the stage. The crowd cheered at your out-of-place attire, it being one of the most unique (and ridiculous) outfits of the night. Shyly you put on your best smile before catching a glimpse of Dolly in the crowd, making gestures for you to smile bigger. 

You cringed when you thought of your family back at home watching this. Saying a silent apology, it was as if a switch turned on in your brain. Suddenly, your teeth shone as you stretched your lips into a smile, fluttering the huge eyelashes your makeup team glued onto you. With a hand on your hip, the other one waving, you swayed like you saw glimmer doing, your dress’ fabric swishing in the gap your legs left as you strode. 

“(Y/n)! My, my, how you clean up!” Flickerman commented, standing to greet you. 

“Thank you, Caesar.” Your eye nearly twitched at the forced southern twang in your voice. It was a whole lot more than Buckley, who had a natural southern accent, you had close to nothing of an accent. Even when it did slip, it sounded nothing like this. “My stylist purtied me up didn’t they?” 

He looked to the crowd, “Indeed they did.” He motioned for you to sit. 

It helped that the stage lights practically blinded you. You could see that people were sitting in the stands, but you weren’t able to make out distinct features- save for the front row where the mentors sat. 

Remembering what Dolly had told you, you sat up straight, teeth-baring into a cheesy smile. 

“Did that print you’re wearing come from a cow you raised?” The presenter’s teeth glinted in the light as the crowd erupted in laughter, “Oh! ‘course not- just inspired by them.” You giggled back, hating yourself even more. Your heart was beating hoping the president would accept your performance. 

Flickerman adjusted himself in his seat, “Now, I was going to leave this question for last- but I just know the audience has been anticipating the answer, am I right?” He turned to the audience who were cheering blindly. 

Like a doll in a box you smiled stationary, waiting for him to ask the question, but of course, he needed to prolong it for suspense. “What was going through your mind when you rode that steed?” There were some woo’s from the crowd, and you watched yourself on the screen as they replayed the moment. That clip gave you an ego boost each time you saw it. Giggling a bit too nervously you shook your head. “Nothing.” That earned a laugh from the audience. “I just remember wanting to ride it- couldn’t help myself I guess.” You gave a small shrug. 

“What a wildflower this one is.” Caesar made some amused faces. 

The interview lasted for another couple of questions, he seemed to have a lot for you. He asked you about home life, your loved ones, Buckley, and about skills. You didn’t have as many questions as the careers, but it was more than District 8’s tributes who had the least. 

“And do you have a strategy to win the games?” His tone was more serious now. 

Here it was. Your closing line. The one that took you and Dolly two seconds to come up with, but would echo in the minds of the audience. 

“I’m from District 10. I’m a born and bred cowgirl. I have to win. ” 

Cato couldn't help but smirk at your response, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall, he watched with attentive eyes as your interview continued.

His open mouth smile followed by “woah woah woah!” made the stadium rumble. You smiled and waved out to the crowd, Dolly giving you a thumbs up. 

“That’s an ambitious statement! I love it!” He did a little kick, “Well, you go out there and rope them in (Y/n) Cuernos! District 10’s very own cowgirl!” 

If only you could see Cato’s pissed-off face next to Marvel’s smug one. 

As you walked backstage again you were greeted with a bone-crushing hug from your fellow tribute. “Hey, that was good! Though you were a little strong on the accent.” Buckley patted your back. 

“Yeah, I had no idea you had one.” Glimmer teased as she and the other careers leaned against the wall. “Stop trying to win them over, I’m already the Capitol’s sweetheart.” The tall girl crossed her arms, the jewels in her dress reflecting. 

Marvel came around you, making space between you and Buckley who knew better than to cause a scene. “Did they make you skin that cow yourself?” His fingers scraped the waist of your dress, he let out an “O” when he realized it was just fabric. 

Cato gave him a look, causing him to back off. “You have to win huh? How do you think you’re going to do that?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You refused to look at him. 

“Oh, I’m not worried. You see if anyone should be worried about you.” He sneered, his gaze getting darker. “Save yourself the disappointment, enjoy your time in the Capitol, and accept your fate. I’m winning this one.” 

“As if.” Clove rolled her eyes. 

Buckley and you both stared down Cato. 

He snickered, “And don’t go around thinking your friend here is going to help you. If you’ve been doing your research you know that there’s no such thing as friends in the arena.” 

That irked Buckley, “So who’s to say your little posse won’t turn on you and gang up on you in the arena?” 

“Pft, then let’s hope they can outrun me.” His response made the careers shift uncomfortably.

“We knew what we were doing when we signed up.” Marvel spoke up,” It’s our job to ween off the weak ones, so the strongest can prevail.” He said looking at you. 

“So is that what Cato’s going to do to you?” You didn’t mean for it to be a comeback. It just came out that way. The careers looked pissed now, but a stage manager came just in time to lead them back to their mentors. 

“Watch it 10.” Cato’s wild grin didn’t deter you, you continued to stare him down.  

Just like that, your time at the Capitol was coming to an end.

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Tags: @randomgurl2326

[leviathansshadycorner]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I love the Cato series!! It’s so good and I’m so exited for the next part! <33

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 5

Summary: (Y/n) begins training.

A/n: Thank you for the support!!!! I love y'all!! Sorry for the wait lol life has been hard. Sorry for any typos or OOC moments. Again thank you so much for the support it means the world to me especially right now.

Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

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Chapter 5: Training pt. 1

“Do you think they’ll have us fight against each other?” Buckley’s voice interrupted your intense glaring to the careers waking up ahead to the training center. 

“Probably not, they’re already making us do that anyway.” You reminded him, scratching the back of your neck since the fabric of the training uniform had a tag that had not been cut off. 

All of the tributes were lined up in pairs. Peacekeepers decorated the walls of the building as they carefully observed the tributes making their way into the arena. The doors leading to the arena were that familiar steel material, and white futuristic lights lit the path towards the center. You could hear the careers boasting about how they couldn’t wait to get their hands on certain weapons, and how much they missed training. It was an odd thing to hear and the non-career districts were visibly confused with their behavior. 

Everyone was lined up in a semicircle, gathering around a lady with two pigtails. She introduced herself as the overseer of the training arena and began to explain the rules. She mentioned how tributes should not only focus on combat but survival skills as well. 

Buckley seemed notably irritated. You had no idea why. Was it something you had said? Deciding to dismiss it, you focused your attention up ahead. Unfortunately for you, all the tributes had to participate in mandatory stations. 

“What should we do?” Buckley asked, his eyes scanning the other tributes as they all dispersed around the training center. Some of the tribute pairs stayed together, following each other around and choosing to train as partners. The rest went on to train individually. It was clear that they either didn’t trust who they came in with, or cared less about them. The careers all huddled around lethal weapons. Quickly it was established that Cato was the leader of the pack. Even Marvel didn’t bother to fight over the role of the leader. 

It was like they had their own private island. All the other tributes steered clear of whichever section of the room they would move to. You and Buckley were still the only ones who hadn’t moved. It was obvious he was hoping to stick together but you couldn’t risk that. You were already a target in the eyes of the career. Not because of your strength, but because you had hurt their leader’s ego during the parade. You’d practically be leading Buckley to his death if he stayed close to you for too long. Then again, you weren’t going to let fear get in your way. 

“Why don’t we stick with each other? That way we can scope out who we have to watch out for.” He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “Let's start with survival training.” 

There were a variety of stations on the leftmost side of the arena. It was dedicated to building shelters, starting fires, and memorizing edible food. The middle part of the training center was dedicated to more physical training. It was where capitol trainers engaged in hand-to-hand with tributes, reflex tests were, and where obstacles to climb and jump over were placed. The right side was where the careers had set residence. It held a display of weapons and training dummies. It was almost too overwhelming for you. The lights disoriented you and the sounds of clinking metal and forceful grunts overstimulated you a bit too much. The arena was cold. The uniform you had been forced to wear didn’t do as good of a job of keeping you warm. Then again, these were designed to fight against sweat, not the cold. As you attempted to tuck your hands in your arms for warmth, you decided to walk around. You needed to scope out the stations that would serve you use to practice. A couple caught your eye, the fire-making station, rope and knot stations, and the station showing how to properly cook prey. 

Needing to get out of the hecticness of it all, you and Buckley quickly beelined it towards the fire making station. The girl from 12 had previously been there, although she already seemed skilled at it. The two of you sat directly across from each other. The bundle of sticks in the middle had regenerated themselves. The heated ashy remains were now back to firm little twigs. 

“Do you remember what Dolly and Ramsey told us?” You didn’t even need to ask. Of course Buckley remembered.

“Yeah, they told us not to show our strengths.” He replied. “I’m pretty sure that’s what all mentors tell their tributes though.” 

“Well not all of them.” You added, eyes wandering to the spartan soldiers across the room. They weren’t holding back. Each hit they dealt whether it be a punch or a spear to a dummy was filled with pride. It was in fact their way of showing everyone else that they were the future victors. 

“What’s their deal anyways?” Buckley’s hands were rubbing the stick down on a rock to try to ignite it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to start your own fire now. 

“The careers. They look like they’re ready to kill you and the games haven’t even started.” His eyebrows furrowed out of confusion. 

You didn’t understand him. Surly he had met one of the career’s gazes at some point during your stay so far. “That’s how they look at everybody.” 

“No, it's different with you. It's like- They give you more attention then they do to other people.” He had managed to make the stick smoke. 

“Jealous that they don’t wanna kill you as much as they wanna kill me?” You briefly stopped to look at him with a sarcastic smile. His lips turned into a frown, and you realized he was concerned for you. 

“I think they’re mad I stole their spotlight.” You offered. 

“But that was like a second of time?” Buckley’s tone was in disbelief. “Plus the real star was the girl from 12. No offense.” He quickly put a hand on your shoulder. 

“None taken.” You patted his hand and redirected it back to his task.

“Is that really all? They must have really fragile egos.” He stopped what he was doing, curious as to why they were so petty.

“Well, Cato does. The rest of them are like sheep. They follow him around like that anyways.” You both turned to look at the careers. They were deeply focused. Eventually, they moved onto sparring with the trainers. 

“What are we going to do?” He wondered. He seemed lost. 

“Hope that Thresh takes him out at the start.” It was a morbid thing for you to say, but Cato was a major threat. Especially to you. 

The conversation died out to mundane talk. You both found yourselves homesick even though it hasn’t even been a week.  You wondered how Amaranto was doing. If your father was alright and not ill. If Clarabell was keeping their spirits up or at least trying to. You thought of the smell. Though it may seem unpleasant to the likes of the capitol, it was soothing for you. After years of living there, you’d gotten used to the earthy scent. The capitol smell was overwhelming at times. If it wasn’t sterile and metallic, it was floral and sickeningly sweet. 

As the day went on you and Buckley were getting the hang of things. It seemed like everyone was saving their skills for the arena. The survival section quickly filled up, causing you and a couple of others to switch to the weapons section. Every half hour the tributes would have to regroup and do a series of physical tests assigned by the trainers. The tributes would always go first, wanting to get back to training as soon as possible. It was clear they loved showing off. Even going beyond the one-time requirement and doing the task twice. 

The careers made it their job to criticize every tribute. They stood not at the sidelines- but directly in front of the stations, making it impossible for the tributes to have an ounce of confidence. Sometimes they’d look away, bored at the current subject. They’d give looks of disdain to the ones that showed their capabilities.  Worse of all they’d laugh at the tributes who showed weakness and weren’t capable of making it all the way through. 

It was hard to perform decently when you had eyes glued onto you. Buckley had gone by easily. He struggled a bit with hand to hand combat, but he practically breezed by. He didn’t overdo it however, lucky for him the career pack didn’t look too interested in him. At first they glared at him, probably expecting him to show off, their glares quickly faded and they soon showed no interest at all. When it was your turn you swear you could’ve heard some snarky comment come out of one of their mouths. 

You chose to pay no mind to it. Your palms were uncomfortably sweaty. Your vision was becoming blurred. The constant “Whenever you’re ready.” Weren’t helping. Taking a deep breath in, you went forth. You had to climb your way across some bars, easy in theory. You weren’t the tallest person here, not the shortest either, but the fall seemed detrimental. In fact there had been a previous accident. A boy with dark hair had fallen off the bars and injured his leg. You were concerned for him. Did the Capitol have the technology to cure a broken leg before the games?

The group training ended much to everyone’s pleasure. Buckley was examining the knives. You wondered if he’d give it a go. He was pretty skilled when it came to throwing them. You watched from afar. You yourself were at a station dealing with a fishing line. You’re not sure why it was there hence why you chose it. Buckley was swift with his movements. His fingers let go of the throwing knife and he watched as it glided to its target. The knife barely made it to the center of the dummy’s head, if anything it was lodged in the eye area rather than the forehead, but it was still impressive. 

“Amateur.” Clove insulted. It was loud enough for you to hear, but Buckley was too far to hear it himself. You watched as she resumed her training, Cato being the one to calm her down. She seemed insulted that Buckley was good at her favorite skill. 

Quickly you made your way to your fellow tribute. He seemed impressed by his own skills. “Did ya see that? Right in the eye.” He spoke, his voice proud. 

“Buckley, you’re amazing.” You reassured him. Now that you were next to him you could see how far away the dummy really was. If you were to try there was no guarantee that you’d make it. His strength and past experience with throwing really paid off. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating with me?” He asked playfully once your demeanor shifted from impressed to on survival mode. 

“Clove’s got an eye on you.” You warned him. 

“I can tell.” He processed what you had said. Looking at her direction he was met with her deadly side eye. 

“She seems unstable.” You spoke truthfully. 

“They all do. They are.” He added. “You know, I feel like someone needs to give them a reality check.” 

“What do you mean by that?” His words worried you. 

“I mean we need to show them they’re not the shit.” He said picking up another knife. 

“Buckley!” You grabbed his shoulder and leaned in to whisper and yell at him. “Our mentors specifically told us not to show off.” 

“(Y/n), don’t act like you haven't shown off.” His words hit you like a hurricane. He was right. “Worst they can do is kill us.” He joked as you stepped aside to let him prove himself. 

Your focus shifted from the careers to Buckley as he lifted the throwing knife to give it another shot. In a sense, Buckley was right. The careers really were on their high horse thinking of themselves as unstoppable. It was getting annoying, and you were starting to get fed up as well. Cato already had his eye on you. So clove’s would be next to nothing. 

The thump of wood being penetrated by a knife echoed in your ears as the world froze. The confidence you had a second ago was gone. Time seemed to go by slowly. As if on cue a huff of a laugh came from Marvel. His cheeks round as a smile formed. Buckley had hit a bullseye. 

“Nice job 10.” Marvel shouted from across the room. Sarcasm was in his voice, but you couldn’t tell if he meant it. 

“Done?” You asked Buckley, hoping he’d be finished causing a scene. Clove’s dark eyes filled with rage. It baffled you how seriously she took the whole situation. 

“Oh no, it's your turn now.” He said. Immediately you backed away. 

“I think you’re actually going insane. Do you need me to ask for some medication?” You were snapping back. 

“No. Come on. Try it.” He said, placing his hands on your back as he nudged you towards the table with knives. 

“I’m not good at this. Buckley, If I mess up, they’re going to think I’m weak.” You confided in him. 

“But if you do good they’ll think you're strong.” He countered. “Plus, wouldn’t you rather have them see you weak? Maybe then the meathead will leave you alone.” 

“Your logic makes no sense.” You were about to back out completely when you caught sight of the career pack waiting on your next move. Glimmer gave you a condescending smile. Clove was still focused on Buckley. Both Cato and Marvel were talking, all of them watching you, taunting you. 

“Fine.” You gave in. There was no way you’d give them the satisfaction of rejecting a challenge. You felt like a bull around a red cape around them. They made your blood boil just by existing. The careers had the best lives out of all the other tributes in the game, yet they always liked making people miserable. At times they felt like the enemy. Even though they got here under similar circumstances. 

Buckley smiled as you grabbed a small knife. It was the size of your palm, yet comfortable to hold. You weren’t sure what to do with it. It sat in your hand like a glob of honey as you anxiously looked around. 

“What am I supposed to do?” You asked him. 

He was quick to help you. “Stand upright,” He put a hand on your back to force a good posture. He then tapped your feet with his to give you the correct footing. “You’re gonna want to follow through. Don’t overthink it too much. The tall man stood next to you as he demonstrated what to do with your arms. You mimicked his movement the first time around, soon practicing it three more times. “Remember (Y/n), don’t overthink it.” 

You nodded as you prepared your throw. Taking a short breath you threw your arm backward and then forcefully forward, missing the dummy completely, but hitting the one behind it near its thigh. The knife didn’t stay in however, it fell after being stuck for about three seconds. 

Your eyes were teary. The warmth in your face grew and you suddenly wanted to be thrown into the games. You stood in place, afraid to move. How dare you embarrass yourself?

“That’s a start,” Buckley said kindly. You turned to look at the careers but Buckley spared you the pain and grabbed your shoulders to look at him. “Don’t worry about them.” 

“I. Told. You. I. Wasn’t. Good.” You spoke in pauses. You felt a mix of shame and anger. Shame for not being able to prove yourself, and anger towards Buckley for making you embarrass yourself. 

“(Y/n), I’m sorry. But hey its ok! Here lets try again.” Buckley held your arm. You wanted to leave, but you had about three more hours of training. You said nothing and instead looked off into the distance. You were really wasting time by not doing anything, but you were overwhelmed at this point. 

“Look I just thought since you work with knives back in 10 you’d be-” His apology was cutoff by a sudden thump of wood. Cato had stealthily moved next to the two of you. The career had thrown two knives at the training dummy. Effortlessly.  He turned to face the both of you. 

“Giving up already? What happened to the girl who rode a Capitol horse?” He taunted. He was arrogantly fiddling with a throwing knife. 

Buckley knew better than to start anything, but he wasn’t going to let you take it. “She just got started.” He came to your defense. 

Truthfully, you didn’t want to interact with Cato. You had learned to stay away from him. Everyone saw how he handled the situation with the tribute he thought to have stolen his knife. He was a ticking time bomb. Anything could set him off. You didn’t turn around. Instead you kept staring into the distance. This only seemed to aggravate him. Cato had walked in front of you, knife in his hand as he grabbed yours. He looked at you with intensity as he placed the knife in your palm. 

“Don’t wimp out now 10.” 

Buckley was preparing himself to end the interaction between you two, but he stopped in his tracks when a knife flew past him. It was a reckless throw, but it managed to actually go through the dummy. This time on it’s side. 

“Why don’t you turn around and try that again?” Cato questioned as he leaned against a metal table. 

It seemed like the spotlight was once again on you. People around were now tuning into the scene. Cato’s arms transformed as he uncrossed them, his muscles relaxing. You however were far from relaxed.

“What the fuck could you possibly want from me? Why are you here? Do you have nothing better to do?” You interrogated as you stepped closer to him. It was clear he had finally struck the last nerve. Buckley looked confused but pale as his concern for his fellow tribute grew. You weren’t yelling at him, but nobody dared to get within an inch from Cato. 

His eyes were void of emotion. “I’m just trying to help out the competition. If I’m going to win this, I want to win because I’m the strongest. Not because everyone else was weak and at a disadvantage.” He spoke back methodically. He didn’t move at all. The two of you seemed to be frozen in time- glaring at each other. 

It wasn’t long before he left. Leaving you fuming alongside Buckley.

____________________________________

Tags: @randomgurl2326

[leviathansshadycorner]

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 6

Summary: (Y/n) begins training.

A/n: Sorry for any inconsistencies and spelling errors, enjoyyyyyy!

Pt.5 Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

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Chapter 6 Training pt. 2

“So tell me why you’re in a feud with a career.” Ramsey bit into his apple. The mentor sat across from you and Buckley. 

“Where’s Dolly?” You hadn’t seen her in the room and were starting to get worried. 

“Don’t worry about her.” Ramsey dismissed. 

“Where is she?” Buckley then repeated. 

The room had grown quiet. Even Pradain who had been watching the Capitol news had gone silent. Ramsey shook his head, avoiding eye contact with either of you. You turned to look at Buckley who intently waited for an answer. 

“She’s talking with the President.” Praidain offered you an answer. “Apparently (Y/n)’s stunt didn’t sit right with him.” 

“Fuck.” You cursed as you threw your head into your hands  and onto the table. 

Dolly had warned you. She had told you that you’d get her in trouble. Buckley seemed taken back but was quick to come to your defense. 

“I'm sure it's nothing,” He began, “Maybe he’s just telling her to keep an eye on you.” 

“Buck’s right.” Ramsey shrugged. “It’s not like the presidents going to hurt any of us. There’s rumors of rebels in the districts. He’s worried that your little horse trick might’ve sent the wrong message. That’s all he’s worried about.” 

“That and the girl from 12.” Pradain added. 

“I wouldn’t worry about her. She seems like another Joanna if anything.” Ramsey added. 

“Have you seen how she stares at the Capitol Citizens? She practically skins the President with that nasty glare of hers.” Pradain sprawled out on the couch. 

All the talk couldn’t distract you from the immense guilt you felt. You’ve heard stories about people getting punished by the Capitol. You knew about how cruel they could be since you practically lived  with the lingering threat of the peacekeepers. You hoped that Buckley was right. That she was just getting a little scolding. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if your actions had caused her to get hurt or worse. 

“Why don’t they just kill us on the spot?” Came your hopeless reply. 

“Don’t go around saying things like that (Y/n)” Pradain’s sympathy shone for the first time. 

“They like entertainment.” Ramsey said, looking out into space. 

Buckley looked uneasy. It seemed the guilt had gone to him as well. You wondered if he hated you. Of course he probably didn’t but you were sure he thought of you differently. 

You could feel the flood of emotions swirl in your brain. This was all getting to be so much and the games haven't even started. You’d lost your appetite. Shakily you got up. Your body felt weak. It seemed you’d spent most of your time here fighting off panic attacks and the urge to cry. Quickly you marched into your room. You could hear Buckley’s chair screech as he stood up to follow but Ramsey kept him back. 

“Let her,” He instructed him. “Why don’t we chat about winning?” He followed up. 

Your tears didn’t hesitate any longer. A familiar flood of salt water streamed down your face as you slouched down the door. The cries were progressively getting harder to contain. Ugly cries erupted from you and you knew the rest of the group would be able to hear them. You threw yourself onto the strange bed. Cries were muffled but now you were drowning in your snot and tears. 

Why did you ever believe Buckley? Why did you think you could be strong. You weren’t the same person you were 10 years ago. That brash little girl left when your mother died. She left when reality took over your fantasy of a better life. 

You were weak. 

In your time here so far you’d proven to be difficult, negative, and living off of false confidence. There was no possible way you’d win the games. Especially since you’ve managed to make enemies out of the tributes with the highest chance at  victory. Amaranto was wrong. You weren’t even good at your job back home. Skilled with knives? If anything you’d get killed by one. Amaranto. He’d be left with a heartbroken father. Clarabell was there for him which gave you some sense of hope but even then. What use does it have for him to have a life, a family- if his kids would be reaped too. 

You thought of your mother. What would she think of you if she were still here? You hadn’t talked to her in years. You weren’t able to. Life got hectic and visits to the meadow were replaced with shifts at the slaughterhouse.  Instantly your mind is filled with memories of your mother. She’d told you that anything was possible. That you were strong and capable yet wild and fierce. 

The cold air kissed your tears away as you laid looking at the ceiling. Her last words echoed as you closed your eyes. Sleep was hard to get by these days. Fortunately for you, you’d exhausted yourself enough to drift into a blissful nap. 

“(Y/n).” A voice came through your dream. 

You shifted in place, the untouched part of the sheets cold, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. 

“(Y/n), come on you gotta go to training.” The feminine voice came again. 

Your eyelids fought to open, refusing to be awoken by the gift of a nap. When they finally did open you were met with Dolly’s gentle eyes. She shook you slightly to get you up. Your groginess was replaced and you basically threw yourself onto her. 

“You’re ok!” Your arms grasped her into a tight hug. 

Dolly hugged back, “Are you ok? Did something happen?” She asked you. She thought it was unlike you to be so forward. 

“I should be asking you that- What happened?” Came your worried reply. 

“Nothing much.” She smiled. “You have training in 10-” 

You cut her off, “Ramsey and Pradain said you were talking to the President.” 

She looked confused. She stood back, getting off the bed she had been hugged on to. 

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She sighed. 

“What's going on Dolly? Was it about me?” You wondered, glad she didn’t seem to be hurt. 

“Well Snow called me in because of you, so that parts true.” She placed a hand on your arm, “But don’t worry about it nothings going to happen.” She took a deep breath as she began to explain. “You cant tell anyone I told you this but Snow suspects another rebel uprising. He’s concerned about the tributes showing defiance towards the Capitol.” 

“Yeah Pradain and Ramsey told me about the rebels.” 

“Great.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I was going to tell you later since I know you’re busy with training but I guess now’ll have to do.” She tried to find the right wording. “Snow wants you to play up the part of a cowgirl from 10.” 

“What?” Her answer didn’t seem real. 

“You’re joking right?” You laughed. 

“No (Y/n). Your parade stunt, in his words, ‘ can be seen as an act of defiance.’ So to counter that he wants you to show the Capitol that you’re really, again his words not mine, ‘A good ol’ fashioned- wild and dense country girl.” She said the last part with disdain. She was from district 10 too, something that you’d forgotten from time to time. 

You felt offended. “Wait why- that doesn’t even make any sense. He didn’t like that I rode a horse so he wants me to act stupid?”

“It could be worse.” She reminded . Suddenly you had no problem with it. Except you did. Cato would have a hayday with this. 

The second day of training was already different as soon as you walked in. You’d all be spending the first half training as a group, the next would be individual. Like yesterday, you dreaded group training. The tributes lined up by districts as they waited to spar against trainers. 

You looked up to the balcony. The game makers were stationed up there to evaluate the tributes, but in reality all they did was get drunk and cause distractions. You paid no mind to them yesterday since there were only a few, but the rest of them seemed to join in today. 

“So they’re really making you play an idiot?” Buckley whispered. He was in front of you, waiting for his turn. 

“Yeah. Keep that on the down low please.” You asked, not wanting to let any other tributes in on it. 

“Of course. Can you believe we have three days of this? Like it's going to help anyone. The game makers like to kill people off when the games get stale.” His face scrunched in annoyance as he looked towards them. “They say may the odds be ever in your favor, but they make it so that they never are.” 

You didn’t like thinking about the games. You knew you’d die eventually, even if you did manage to make it far. Out of the 24 people here there’s bound to be at least 16 ahead of you. The only thing that got you through the long days were memories of 10, thinking of going home to Amaranto, Pa, and Clarabell, and Buckley. Though you tried not to think of him too much. You’ve grown attached to your neighbor, but there could only be one. He’d have a chance, you hoped he would, but he could get in over his head at times. 

The girl from 12 overheard, she looked like she wanted to pipe in but went against it. Buckley had previously told you that she had also made Cato’s list. So even if you did want to talk to her you knew it’d make things worse for the both of you. 

“I wonder if they program them to be psychopaths.” You chatted with Buckley. 

“They probably feed them sheet metal.” He joked. 

Routinely the careers finished fast. They went to their familiar spot and proceeded to judge and ridicule the efforts of the others. 

“I’m surprised 4 isn’t with them. Aren’t they also careers?” You looked over at the pair of tributes. 

“Have you seen them (y/n)? They may be from 4, but they don’t seem like the career type. They would’ve been with the pack already.” Buckley moved slightly so they were in your field of vision. It was true. The boy from 4 looked too young to be here. It broke your heart. The girl looked capable, but she kept to herself, not really helping the boy. 

“Have you decided on your chosen skill yet?” You asked him. 

Buckley shrugged, “No, but I might just throw some knives around.” 

You nodded. He looked  at you as if waiting for your answer. “I think I’ll do something with rope.” 

His face lit up, “You have to!” 

Individual training was better than group training. Partially because the careers were focused on themselves and not on the less capable tributes. Buckley had gone on to do some strength training. You could see him trying to talk to Thresh. It was clear the boy didn’t want to talk, but Buckley didn’t know any better. You on the other hand were in a simulation pod. It was a small rectangular room within the building. It simulated different weather and textures. One of your least favorite parts of the game that you came to realize was the randomly selected arena. In past years there’d been tundras, deserts, beaches, and cities. There was no telling which one they’d come up with this year. You hoped it’d be anything but  a jungle. You could handle heat but not humidity. 

When you first started using the pod, all eyes were on you. Mostly because it piqued the interest of the other tributes and you were sure they’d want to use it after you. It was filled with coarse sand first, cold but then gradually heating up. The pod went from room temperature to a scorching heat and you had to take your jacket off. The sand quickly morphed into liquid, and you were floating in the water. You weren’t much of a swimmer, so of course you panicked. The worst part came when the water evaporated and you stood on leaves while the air around you got humid. Your jacket was already off and you couldn’t get rid of any more layers. The simulation ended with the water turning into snow. When you were done you stepped out, already regretting having chosen it. You were however pushed back in by a trainer. The pod inhaled the sand, snow, and water particles, leaving you good as new. 

Stepping out you’ve noticed the tributes lining up. In a weird way you could tell they were excited to try out capitol technology. Marvel was the first in line. He was surprised to see you walk out the door. He peeked his head in the pod before looking at you. 

“Can’t swim?” He asked. You couldn't tell whether he was trying to make conversation or insult you. Saying nothing you walked past him.

 Your mentors had instructed you to try to at least learn some lethal skills since trying to run wouldn’t always work. The weapons area was intimidating, but you had to at least try. There were spears, bow and arrows, knives, daggers, swords, axes, sickles. An array of weapons you didn’t know how to use. 

You picked up a knife and examined it. A trainer looked ready to help you so you walked toward them. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“Why don’t you try with the dummy first?” They suggested. 

Nodding you went over to one of the training dummies. You tried stabbing the knife into the wood. Your arm was a bit wobbly at first but you eventually got the hang of it. The trainer came over to help you out with a technique. After a half hour you were finally able to train with them. It was hard at first since you never really had to fight with anyone. You were skilled to an extent with a knife, but those skills were only permitted in the arena. 

“Alright, why don’t you try the spears next?” The trainer pointed to where the said weapon lied. 

Spears were a weird weapon to you. It was essentially an elongated knife mixed with a needle. You’d seen Marvel use these before. He was the only one who could effectively use one, so you’ve come to learn. Eventually the trainer got whisked away to help another tribute, leaving you alone. The metal felt heavy in your hands. You lifted the spear to poke the point, drawing blood from your finger. Hissing, you put the finger in your mouth, hoping that it wouldn’t bleed too much and cause a mess. As you approached a dummy you  messed around with the weapon, hoping to find your grip. When you did you hit the dummy- lightly at first- deciding what the best way to weaken your opponent would be. Driving the point into the dummy’s stomach, you let out a sound as you tripped over your own feet, the force of your stab stronger than you anticipated. 

“You know those are meant to be thrown too right?” Marvel appeared besides you, his hands on his hip as he observed your technique. “Give me that.” He took the spear out of your dry hands, immediately getting into a stance before throwing it at the dummy’s head. 

Marvel turned to you and smiled, acting like a boy who had just made a basketball shot.  Your mouth twitched as you forced yourself to keep a stoic expression. Your nerves were around the place but you didn’t need Marvel knowing that. 

“Come on 10, it’s not that hard.” He said as he retrieved the spear. You could see his muscles when he grabbed the base of the spear, using force to get it out of the foam head he had stuck it through. 

“(Y/n)?” Buckley called your name. You turned around and saw him on the opposite side of the room. He gave you the ‘you good?’ eyes. Dismissing him you turned back around to face Marvel who was examining the build of the spear. 

“These things are wicked huh? I’ve never seen one this sleek.” He commented, running his hands over the metallic stick. 

“The Capitol loves making things shiny.” Came your reply. Since your talk with Dolly, you’ve come to learn that being friendly with the careers might be your only way of not getting killed in the games, especially now that snow was on your case. 

Marvel looked astounded that you even spoke. You’d kept quiet for the most part. Your comment made his smirk grow. Marvel handed the spear to you. It was only then that you noticed he smelled like cologne. It was sharp enough to give you a headache. It didn’t surprise you that he would take advantage of the Capitol’s amenities. He was from district one after all. 

“Here, I’ll try again.” You got into a stance, “Can you show me how you get ready to throw?” Your voice sounded artificial. You knew he could tell you were acting differently. He raised an eyebrow but helped you anyways. 

“You want to spread your feet. No-not like that.” He said as he tapped your leg to fix your stance. “Make sure you don’t poke your damn eye out.” Marvel warned as he fixed your arm. When he saw that you had perfected your stance he nodded. “Alright, that's a start. Go.” He ordered. 

You mentally slapped yourself. You had made the spear go through the dummy’s neck- which was impressive, however you didn’t like the fact that you needed Marvel’s help in order to attain it. 

“Look at that!” He shouted. Marvel looked proud, he wrapped an arm over your shoulder and you quickly stepped away from him. “Not bad.” He said still impressed by your work. “If it were up to me you’d be in our pack.” He joked. 

“Are you serious?” Again, you never knew when he was lying. 

“No. Of course not.” He said and walked away to bug some other poor tribute. 

.

.

.

.

.

“You guys know what to do right?” Ramsey and Dolly stood by the door as they watched the district 9 tributes enter the waiting room. 

“Show off?” Buckley answered. 

“Exactly. You have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely.” Dolly looked nervous. You wondered if she was worried about you since you hadn’t shown as much skill as Buckley since you got here. 

“If they get bored of you they’ll ask you to leave earlier, so don’t bore them.” Ramsey eyed the two of you. “I assume you’ll be showing off your throwing skills?” He turned to Ramsey. He shrugged, “I’m teetering between that and strength.” 

“Remember, the higher you score, the more likely you are to get sponsors.” You could tell that was aimed towards you by the way Dolly intentionally faced Buckley. 

It didn’t take a genius to piece together that you were the weak link in the district 10 team. A few other tributes made their way to the waiting room, leaving team 10 behind. 

“Alright, well they’ll call you by your names. Good luck.” Dolly bid the two of you farewell as she and Ramsey turned to make their leave. 

“They didn’t even ask you what you chose.” Buckley commented, sticking to your side as the doors to the waiting room opened. 

If it weren’t for the fact that it was deadly quiet, you would’ve responded to him. Instead you sat down next to the district 9 and 11 tributes, sandwiched in the middle. The freckled girl looked at you, offering a scared look, the boy next to her looked frightened as well. You could tell they didn’t speak much by the way they weren’t facing each other. On the other side of Buckley sat a small girl with the curliest locks you’ve ever seen. You’ve seen her before, each time a sharp pain would reach your heart since she looked so young and innocent. The thought of her meeting her demise in the arena sickened you and you wished that she’d at least go peacefully. Next to her was Thresh. You knew his name since he was the biggest one here, everyone even Cato seemed to be wary of him. You even heard Pradain talk about how he’d probably be this year’s victor. 

You hadn’t noticed how anxious Buckley was. In fact this was the first time you’ve noticed how much he bounced his leg and fiddled with his fingers. In your eyes he was the peace in all of this chaos, always finding a way to calm you down, even in the moments where the two of you faced the reality of possibly having to kill each other. 

The nerves in your body were just as bad as his, but you fought to put a smile on his face, your hand going to his forearm as a way to reassure him. He nodded at your action, his bounces dying down. As you removed your hand you noticed the girl from 12 observing you. She had a blank expression on her face, and before you could return it the intercom went off. 

“Marvel Sanford.” 

Everyone’s attention was on him as he stood up. 

“You got this Marvel.” Glimmer cheered him on, patting him on the back as he went to take his turn. He did a little pre-game jump before he disappeared into the other side. 

One by one the tributes went, some of them taking longer than others. The careers took the longest, you assumed the game makers were infatuated with their natural-born skills. As it got closer to the lower districts, the tributes took less, some of them lasting not even 5 minutes. Soon enough it was Buckley’s turn. 

“You’ll do great.” You didn’t know how well your words would encourage him, but you hoped he’d feel less anxious about the whole thing. 

“Thanks.” He smiled, leaving you alone with the tributes from 11 and 12. 

Once again quiet filled the room. You looked over at the tributes and observed them, making eye contact with the little girl. She looked away quickly before you could give her a smile. The baker from 12 also made eye contact with you. It lingered for a while, the two of you feeling a spark of similarity, it was like looking at a mirror. You recognized the look on his face. 

“You had blood on your clothes when you got reaped.” The girl from 12 spoke up, probably noticing how long you had been staring at them. 

Not sure if you should respond, you simply nodded. 

The boy gave her a look but she ignored him, pressing on. “Why?” 

The tributes from 11 were now also intrigued, Thresh turning to size you up. 

“I-” Your voice came out crackled from the lack of speaking, “I was working in my reaping clothes.” You replied quietly as if you’d just gotten in trouble. 

“Oh.” There was a lull and silence overtook the room once again. “You’re a butcher?” 

You shrugged. You could tell why the baker looked like that, you assumed she was the more capable one from the two of them. She was his Buckley. 

She left the conversation at that. You thought to yourself. Were people afraid of you? You hoped the Capitol didn’t paint you as some psychopath, although you’d take psycho over a ditzy cowgirl. 

“(Y/N) Cuernos.” The speaker announced your turn. Buckley came back from the doors, his face red and misty from sweat. He gave you a look, a silent cheer as he left. 

The training arena looked scarier when it was empty. All the weapons were lined up at the same point, tables with supplies were also lined up, the two opposite of eachother. Tributes got to choose what they wanted to show off, and it was between survival and combat skills. 

The game makers were enjoying their drinks, laughing up there as if they didn’t have a job to do. Seneca Crane, a devilish looking man who happened to be the head game maker was causing a ruckus up there. His jokes seemed to have a chokehold on the men as they laughed their drinks down. 

You had 15 minutes. 15 minutes to impress a group of drunk men who weren’t even paying attention to you. Immediately you looked for rope. There was no way you’d score high with a weapon. On the steel table there were about three piles of rope. It was dark and heavy, and unlike any you’d seen before. You struggled to pick them all up, but eventually hoisted them on your shoulder as you began to scurry around. 

Memories were what you relied on as you quickly unraveled the rope, your hands working fast as you tied knots. Your mind went back to when you were young and working as a farmhand with Amaranto. The old man who you had worked for would always forget to close his gate right, causing all the livestock to scurry around. Even though you were small, you had a fire burning inside of you. Amaranto taught you how to make a lasso, more importantly he taught you how to rope in the livestock. On weekends you’d practice your lasso skills with him, trying to see who could bring down barrels full of sand the quickest. 

Suddenly you were back home. The dummies in front of you were  the frantic animals trying to run into the forbidden lands. You built up speed, spinning the lasso in different directions, the time showing as the first one immediately fell. Embarrassed, you looked over to the game makers and to your relief they still weren’t paying attention. You tried again, this time you had an idea of how to get it to work, the child in you peeking out as you managed to get the loop over a dummy’s head. Quickly with force you pulled it close to you, the dummy falling with a loud thud that echoed through the metallic room. 

You took haste as you worked your muscles to bring it next to you. It was heavier than you anticipated, you groaned with every pull. The game makers were now watching you, curious as to what the hell you were doing. You didn’t stop there. Once it was close enough to you, you knelt down to tie it in a hogtie. It took longer than you remembered, and you were sure it was a weak tie. Immediately after you finished, you went to grab the other lasso, this time showing off since you knew they were watching you. Once again with full force you threw the rope over another dummy, repeating the process only this time quicker. Your third and Final attempt was faster, this time you took down two dummies at the same time. 

By the time you were done the cheeks on your face had reddened, your hair was messy from wiping your forehead of sweat. When you looked back up the only audience you had were about four game makers, the rest of them going back to drinking. As you were dismissed you couldn’t help but feel impressed by yourself. You’d left the dummies on the ground, bound and tied. You only hoped you’d be able to do that in the arena. 

When you arrived on your floor, Buckley was already in the shower. Dolly greeted you and sat you down. 

“How’d it go?”  Her bright eyes looked excited, hoping to hear something good. 

“They were drunk, so I don’t think they were paying much attention, but good I hope.” Her face fell when you told her that. 

“Those assholes.” She sneered. 

“What did you end up doing?” She pressed on. 

“Lasso tricks.” You should have worded it better, but you didn’t want her to be disappointed when they gave you a 4 for showing off the best ability you thought of at the time. 

“Lasso tricks? That’s it? Like swinging around a rope?” She seemed surprised, irritated almost. “(Y/n), ya were supposed t’ show off dear.” 

“I did.” 

“S’pose that’ll feed into the whole act Snow’s got  you doing.” She sighed. 

“About that- Dolly.” There were a few questions you had in mind. “I don’t have to keep that up in the arena do I?” 

She clicked her tongue, “Truth be told I think it depends. If the arena you get is western then yes, but either way I think you’ll have to keep it up until he shows interest in another tribute.” She warned. Interest in Snow was like a Lion being interested in a wounded gazelle. 

“Dolly I don’t think I’m gonna win.” In your heart you knew it was true. No matter how many people wished for the odds to be in your favor, you knew you wouldn’t see home again. 

“Don’t say-” 

“No. I mean it.” Your mood had shifted immensely, and once again you were breaking down. The games were so close, the only thing left being the interviews before you met your eventual demise. “I have no skills, there’s about 9 tributes here who can kill me no problem, and probably more that are hiding the fact that they can kill me.” You choked trying to not ugly cry in front of your mentor. 

“(Y/n)-” You cut her off again. 

“I’ve got about three Careers who have it out for me only because I won’t be their little bitch, I don’t think I’d be able to kill Buckley if I win, and I’m weaker than I’ve ever been. I can’t even hold my own in combat.” You sniffed. Your eyes were hurting now, you’d been holding in your tears and they were starting to fall involuntarily. “I can’t do this.” 

Dolly sighed, she rubbed your back. “Look- even if you don’t think you can, you have to try. You’re going to try. I am not going to let you go in there thinking you’re going to die. Alright? Me and Ramsey are gonna go around getting people to sponsor you. You just try to survive alright? Hide out just make sure the game makers don’t catch on, try to live until you’re the last one there. Most importantly put on a show.” She paused to wipe your tears away. “What do all of the Victors have in common?” She asked as you sniffled. “They all put on shows. And you-” She poked your chest. “You are going to put on the best one alright? That’s all they want.” 

A good show. Show. To you it was life or death. To them you were entertainment. That’s why the crowd went wild when you rode the horse, why they cheered when the coal miners caught on fire, why they ogled over Glimmer’s  looks. 

Nodding you let yourself fall into Dolly’s arms. The lady was kind enough to hold you in her arms until you calmed down. 

When it was time for the evaluations to be announced, all of you gathered in the lounging area. Pradain in his usual spot, sprawled on a couch, Sashay and the other stylish sitting in the loveseats spread around the room. Dolly, Buckley, Ramsey and you were on the main couch facing the giant screen.

“Good evening folks! I’m Caesar Flickerman live from the Capitol as we announce the 74th hunger game’s tribute evaluations!” He cheered, his white teeth contrasting his nearly orange skin. Claudias Templesmith introduced himself as well but everyone knew that Caesar was the star host. 

“It’s starting, everybody shut up.” Rasmey announced as he turned the volume up. 

“Here.” You had gotten a small cupcake for Buckley and yourself from the dining table. 

“Thanks.” He took it and immediately swallowed it whole- or at least it looked that way. 

“From district 1 Marvel! With a score of 9.” Buckley noticed you shift uncomfortably. 

“Glimmer with a score of 9!” Of course they’d score high. It was just another day for them. 

“From District 2, Cato with a score of.. 10!” The host said, his eyes wide. “Also from 2 Clove with a score of 10.”

“God damn.” Buckley said surprised. “She’s so tiny!” 

The scores kept going, the lowest so far being a 3. You prayed that you’d at least get a 4. 

You had held onto Dolly’s hand, your other hand in Buckley’s as you waited for your scores. Time felt so slow. The anticipation makes you want to go up to Caesar and just tell him to say it already. 

“From district 10, Buckley Wheaton…” His grip tightened on your hand. “With a score of 9!” Everyone cheered. He shook your shoulders, happy with his score. You laughed with joy, however the room fell quiet again when your name was called. 

“(Y/n) Cuernos…” You felt like throwing up, “with a score of 6!” Immediately you could feel the room’s mood change. 

Dolly’s voice faltered, “Hey! That’s better than a 4! And above a 5! That’s good.” She tried to lift you up, but you sat there on the brink of another breakdown. 

“Let’s hear it for our tributes!” Pradain smiled, lifting up a plate with shot glasses. He passed them around, offering one to you and Buckley as well. 

“To (Y/n) and Buckley!” He announced, and everybody drank. 

Your face scrunched up from the foreign taste, yet Buckley looked unphased. 

The screen was still playing, and you could hear them announce the rest of the tributes. “From district 11 Thresh, with a 10!” He said happy to see another high score after  an hour of low scores. “Rue with a score of 7.” You wondered what she had done to get a score so high. Your ego definitely was down after that, crushed even more by the fact a small 12 year old girl could score higher than you. 

“From district 12 Peeta, with a score of 8.” 

Everyone commented on how they didn’t expect him to be high up. However the most shocking score was yet to come. 

“Katniss. With a score of… oh my- 11!” The collective gasp around the room was hilarious to you. 

“Damn-” Buckley commented, “an 11? How is that even possible..” 

“Heard from Effie that she stuck an arrow through an apple in a pig’s mouth, right at the game maker’s balcony.” Pradain giggled as he continued to sip on some champagne he had poured himself. 

The girl who had asked you about your clothes, the one who you knew had something about her, had scored an 11. A sense of happiness washed over you as you knew that Cato was having a bitch fit right now. 

After the evaluations were through, everyone returned to their own. Except for you and Buckley who were having a late night snack of cheese and fruit. 

“What’s your strategy?” Buckley asked, the two of you alone in the lounging room. 

“Hmm? What do you mean?” It didn’t strike you as something he’d bring up. Maybe he was trying to figure out if he had to protect you or not. 

“Like other than survive.” He broke off a grape, sticking it into his mouth. 

“I’m not sure. I was thinking of just trying to avoid the tributes, hopefully make an alliance with the girl from 5.” You shrugged. It was the truth. After today you knew that everyone would be out for Katniss, moreover, your low score either meant you were going to be killed first, or kept off the radar. “Dolly says I gotta keep up the cowgirl act in the arena.” 

“Why the girl from 5? And what do you mean keep up the act? What act is there to keep up? Shouldn’t you be focused on surviving rather than keeping the president happy?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“She seems smart. She knows how to keep a low profile anyways.” You shrugged. “I think keeping the president happy is what’ll keep me alive longer. What about you Buck, any strategies you’d like to share?” 

“We can stick together.” He offered. 

“Not happening.” He looked almost offended. 

“Well why not?” 

“Because, respectfully, I don’t want to be dead weight. You actually have a chance.” You’ve had this conversation before. It was always the same thing. He had a big heart, but there was no room for heart in the games. 

“(y/n)-” 

“What’s your strategy?” You hoped he would change the subject. He sighed, his big eyes falling to the ground. 

“I guess just try to survive, not kill. I don’t know if I’d be able to kill anyone really.” There was sadness in his face. “I’m pretty big, so I guess I’ll have to try to not get killed by the Careers. I mean I’d want to have an alliance with Thresh but- I’m pretty sure he’s got a lone wolf thing going on.” He rambled on. 

You smiled at him, “It’s gonna be hard to hide huh?” 

He let out a breathy laugh, “Pretty much.”

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