#cato and clove fanfic

[clatoera]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun facts:

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

There are jokes for most of my friends here

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

Alright.

AO3

tumblr masterpost

Title from The Great War, Taylor Swift.

The End.

Thirteen months after the end of the war

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Blood ritual, Glimmer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye Clove!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enobaria!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It tastes like victory. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And in District Two. 

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

Cato and Clove, above all else, are happy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clove is no longer just the girl who never misses. 

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

Her only goal? 

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

This is the life of a victor. 

The end. 

#clato #clato fanfic #cato and clove #arwbfb reactions #arwbfb tag #always remember we're burned for better tag #the hunger games fanfic #careers fanfic #the careers hunger hames #marvel thg #glimmer thg #cato hadley #clove kentwell #cato and clove fanfic #thank you. All of you #I love you all so much.

[rhysandswingspan]

Hi! I’m back with a new chapter to my Clato fanfic: Fragile!

Go check it out, and here’s an excerpt from the new chapter! 

-

"I shouldn't have gotten so mad." Cato replies, "And I shouldn't have called you a child." "Is the high and mighty Cato actually apologizing?" she can't resist taunting him. "At least I don't beg." Clove flushes slightly and glares at him. "You can't deny it," he says, smirking. "The way you plead for me when you-" Clove presses her knife to his throat, cutting him off. He doesn't even look scared, instead, his eyes lock to hers.

Yes that’s right to anyone who has been reading this, the teaser from the fanfic summary is finally here!

-

New Chapter:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34894465/chapters/108117627

Chapter 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34894465/chapters/86888572

#clato #clove #cato #hunger games #the hunger games #clove and cato #cato and clove #clato fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #clato fanfiction #clove and cato fanfic #cato and clove fanfic #clove and cato fanfiction #cato and clove fanfiction #thg #thg fandom #the hunger games fandom #hunger games fandom #the careers hunger games #marvel #glimmer #clove thg #cato thg #clove the hunger games #cato the hunger games #clove hunger games #cato hunger games #hunger games fanfic #is there a limit to hashtags lol

[7s3ven]

LACY. cato hadley

( master list )

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

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

—

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

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

He had been paying more attention to her than Clove.

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

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

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

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

“Uh. Yeah. We can leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you still have her stuff?”

“I must’ve forgotten about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Cato raised his eyebrows, indirectly telling her to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t”-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#hunger games x reader #cato hunger games #cato hadley #clove kentwell #cato x reader #cato thg #thg series #dystopia #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot

[melusinealarice]

Somewhere in Panem with the victors the 74th year

Katniss climbing the tree

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

Cato falls

Haymitch: At least she got up the fuckin tree.

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

None if the carriers climbing

Enobaria: You gotta be kidding me.

Johanna and Finnick join on the couch

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

Finnick hiding laughter

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

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

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

Glimmer misses shot

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

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

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

Cato fires arrow and misses

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

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

Cashmere: I guess not.

Marvel throws spear and misses

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

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

Haymitch laughing hysterically,

Some time later

Katniss starting to cut down tracker jackers

Gloss: Did all our kids seriously fall asleep,

Cashmere rubbing her temples: Yea, they did

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

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

Nest falls and careers scatter

Brutus: I need another drink,

Glimmer dies

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

Cashmere: no comment,

Some more time later

Katniss plots with rue to blow up food

Gloss: they aren’t gonna fall for that.

They fall for it

Haymitch: you were saying?

Enobaria: This year sucks

Katniss kills Marvel

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

Gloss: Ok im leaving now.

Cashmere: yea i think im also gonna head out…

Johanna (drunk): LOOSERS HAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

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

Takes her alcohol

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

Haymitch: he knows not to mess with me

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

Johanna: OH WHAT YOU WANNA FIGHT LETS FIGHT!

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

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

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

Finnick returns

Enobaria: that was fast?

Finnick: I locked her in her bathroom,

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

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

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

Finnick: I give up. *sits down*

Brutus: what the fuck is wrong with you.

Both Finnick and Jo simultaneously: A lot.

#the hunger games #fanfic #hunger games #incorrect hunger games quotes #thg incorrect quotes #incorrect hg quotes #finnick odair #johanna mason #brutus #enobaria #haymitch abernathy #katniss #clove kentwell #cato hadley #74th hunger games #gloss #cashmere #marvel #glimmer #somewhere in panem

[otakufimi]

Hi everyone!!

I've been reading The ballad of Songs and Snakes (haven't finished it yet, but amazing book), re-watching the bunger games movies and reading fanfics. The thing is I became really obsessed with the Hayffie ship (Haymitch and Effie), but now I'm becoming obsessed with the Clato ship (Clove and Cato).

Do any of you know good and long fanfics of one or both of this ships!?

Thank you very much

#the hunger games #hunger games #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x effie #hayffie #clove #cato #clove x cato #clato #fanfics #I want recommendations #please 🥺

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Christmas In Panem

Christmas in the Capitol was loud.

Everyone met up with family and friends in the morning, exchanging presents and having a big heavy lunch to last them through to the evening. Parents with children would play with them til the evening, when they were put to bed. Other adults headed to parties in the afternoon, while parents would join the festivities later on, and they would party til the early hours of the morning.

In more elite circles, the elite would have one long party, lasting from lunch til 2am or later. If they were especially elite, you may have a Victor or two there for entertainment - Finnick Odair was always a popular choice, as we're Cashmere and Gloss, but since their schedules always blocked off Christmas Day due to their impressive popularity, you'd take what you could get depending on when you arranged the for.

This year's Christmas Party, the year before the 74th Annual Hunger Games, President Snow's get together was in full throttle. Harold Galloway, the District 1 Victor of the 73rd Games, had the honour of being this year's entertainment, the citizens around him oohing and aahing appropriately as he recalled how he slaughtered other children. President Snow was sipping from a glass of wine, a white napkin held loosely in his hands. The red stains upon it could have been from the wine, or maybe the blood he was coughing up when he thought he could get away with it.

It wasn't necessarily fun. It was expected, and Snow watched dispassionately as the Capitol roared with excitement as Avoxes brought out more refreshments.

Only a couple more hours to go.

*****

Christmas in District 1 was luxurious.

Everyone in the Districts got the day off, as the Capitol would riot if they didn't. Snow blanketed the beautiful gardens in 1, falling gently to the floor as small children laughed and played in it.

In one large house, beautifully furnished, a large spread covered a table. Meat wasn't always eaten, but Christmas demanded it, and a blonde girl sat at the table with her family, happily eating her Christmas dinner.

Glimmer watched as her mother and father playfully bickered, her mother 'aggressively' rubbing the gravy off his white shirt with a wet cloth. All 3 were dressed in their best finery, as they'd be taking photos for the Capitol cards later that day.

It was a good day. Glimmer had just been told she was to be the volunteer for next year's games, and she looked forward to next year's Christmas party, with Glimmer a Victor. Her mother had placed an order for a new dress, silver with shimmers, beautiful stitching making up most of the bodice. She was excited to wear it on her victory tour.

Only one year to go.

*****

District 2 didn't observe Christmas as closely as the Capitol did, but they still parties.

Most Christmas parties were filled with cakes and sweet treats, a rarity even for the richer people, and children would gorge on them until they felt sick. Cato watched his two younger siblings do just that, laughing as they fell to the ground, stomachs swollen from the rich food.

Their family friend, Clove, sat nearby, conversing with his mother as she ate a slice of chocolate cake. Clove didn't have a family, having been orphaned at a young age, so Cato's had practically taken her in, raising her to be every bit as ferocious as Cato himself.

He expected that they'd be the next Cashmere-Gloss duo, winning consecutive games. He was excited, so excited, to see what the future held for them.

*****

District 3's Christmas was full of light.

Everyone worked together to create a light show on drones, starting with simpler ones made by school children to incredibly intricate ones worked on through the year by people in work.

Beetee and Wiress, who had programmed the grand finale for this year's display, watched with pride as the drones in the sky created a series of fireworks, each exploding into multiple presents which opened to form a giant Santa Claus. The children oohed and aahed, before squealing in joy as the drones started circling the crowd, dropping little sweets into each child's palm.

Next year, they'd create something bigger and better.

And maybe the year after that, they'd have more people to work with.

*****

District 4 all gathered together for Christmas.

Multiple large tables were unfolded on the beach, with the older people cooking various kinds of food that ended up placed in the middle of the tables. Buffet style, which was incredibly popular in the Capitol, but originated in 4.

They'd all eat together, an incredible show of community and togetherness, raucous laughter and joyous screaming drowning out the sound of gulls. After the food was done, as the sun was setting and the tide rolled in, they'd sing together, everything from carols to shanties, and when the sun finally set and the waves lapped at their toes, they'd head inside, content with another Christmas well spent.

Finnick stumbled into his house, a massive grin splitting his face even though there were no alcohol or drugs running through his system for once. Annie stumbled behind him, still quietly humming along to We Wish You A Merry Christmas, the two falling onto a couch and hugging each other close as they sang together, interspersed with the occasional giggle. Mags laughed silently as she headed to the kitchen, making some hot chocolate as the younger two had splashed through the ocean with no shoes on, and would undoubtedly end up sick the next day.

*****

District 5's Christmas celebrations were filled with fireworks.

All different colours, red, green, blue, yellow lit up the sky. Children screamed in joy, while adults gave out fresh fruit for them to enjoy.

They all went to bed early that night, as they had to be back to work the next day.

District's 6, 7 and 8 were much the same, one Johanna Mason mused. She was in the Capitol, watching the Districts celebrations on TV. She had been reluctantly glad to see Finnick enjoying his celebrations, for once covered up and genuinely smiling as Annie hung off his arm and Mags plied the two with more food.

Even 9 wasn't too dissimilar, she sighed as she took a drink, except instead of fireworks they released lanterns, multiple colours lighting up the sky in a beautiful display. 10 and 11 shared the same tradition, except with plain white lanterns, and Johanna watched them rise into the sky, bored.

Maybe there was something else on...

*****

District 12's Christmas... well, they didn't really celebrate.

The mines were too dangerous, and even though they got the day off, there were no food handouts or communal events.

But some people did celebrate in their homes.

An eleven year old Primrose Everdeen was dancing around in her new outfit, bought for her first reaping next year. It tugged at Katniss's heartstrings, even as her mother smiled indulgently.

She hated the Hunger Games, and what everything stood for. But it was fine.

Prim was only in there once next year. And Katniss would just take more tesserae as she got older, to make sure that Prim had the smallest chance of being reaped possible.

It was the least she deserved.

#the hunger games #the hunger games fanfic #christmas #merry christmas bitches #coriolanus snow #glimmer #cato #clove #beetee latier #wiress #finnick odair #annie cresta #mags flanagan #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #primrose everdeen

[alavestineneas]

☆ masterlist ☆

Hunger Games:

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

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

Soul - one-shot

Johanna Mason x fem!reader

Together - one-shot

Alive - one-shot

Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

Forever - one-shot

Silence - one-shot

Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Losing dogs, prt 2 (Poisonous bites) - finished

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

Cato Hadley x fem!reader

Home - one-shot

House of the Dragon:

Aegon II Targaryen x OC series:

 King’s will - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - paused

Dune:

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader

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

#hunger games #imagine #finnick odair #finnick x y/n #clove kentwell #clove kentwell x reader #thg #johanna mason x y/n #johanna mason x reader #hunger games johanna mason #finnick x reader #finnick x you #hunger games finnick #johanna mason #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aegon #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow #character x you #character x y/n #cato hadley x reader #cato hadley fanfiction #cato hadley

[twobraincellkentwell]

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

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

#twobraincellkentwell #cato #cato hadley #cato hadley x oc #cato hunger games #cato x oc #hunger games #hunger games catching fire #the hunger games fanfic #finnick odair #cato hadley fanfic #hunger games x reader #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games fanfic #the hunger games trilogy #cato x reader #cato fanfic #catching fire fanfic #catching fire #clove #clove kentwell #clove hunger games #cato x clove #clato #thg #the hunger games #thg clove #thg cato #hunger games edit #alexander ludwig

[ilovepadme]

REQUESTS OPEN

(Hunger Games)

I’m currently focused on Katniss, but I’d be open to writing for other characters too!

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen #katniss and peeta #peeta mellark #finnick odair #thg finnick #peeta x reader #thg #haymitch abernathy #thg haymitch #johanna mason #prim everdeen #thg katniss #clove thg #cato thg #fanfic #reqs open #request

[lost-in-beacon-hills]

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

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

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

#cato #cato hadley #clove #clove kentwell #glimmer #marvel hg #hunger games #hg fanfic #clato #climmer #i need people to love the careers and our lovely district 12 kids

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned For Better Chapter 20: We Will Never Go Back to That Bloodshed

Well everyone...we made it. It has taken nearly nine months but here we are. We are at the end of ARWBFB (save for the Epilogue). This has been one of my biggest undertakings and I am so so so proud of it. You guys have followed me through two board exams, applications, and so so so many different speciality rotations during this journey. You have been incredibly patient but also incredibly supportive. I NEVER could have finished it without you guys. I wanted to get this up sooner or at least on the 13th. I failed at both of those, but I hope you will understand when you see that this chapter is the longest by a significant amount. I am so proud of this fic, and I hope you all decide that it was worth giving your time to sharing with me.

The chapter title comes from The Great War. A fun fact would be that this line actually loops back to "we will never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover" with Crimson Clover being the title of chapter one. It's come full circle (save for the epilogue).

This chapter is designed like Chapter 4 was. Each segment is divided by a lyric that encapsulates the vibes. It is not as happy, but it is the start of happily ever after.

AO3

Masterpost

As always..this is for everyone who has helped me and loved me and supported this story. I cannot even tag everyone but I will try. A LARGE portion of this goes to @ohhowwehavefallen who has talked about MOST things that happen in this chapter with me in depth and has enabled me (VSC immortalized forever with this one, so is Cato buying the academy). @kentwells who actually helped me make major decisions regarding the sequel, which affected the way Marvel and Glimmer ended here. Thank you for putting up with me. @dukeysquid and @mackcoleslaw for the constant constant support. @clarascrabarmy who talks me off the ledge and is my go to night reader (and night validator that im crazy). @mollywog who has tolerated this fic for 9 months. @crookedlyniceperson who comes in with the memes EVERY single time. @cyansadnessI dont even get to talk to you much any more but you were an OG reader and I am giving you kisses for your love. There are so many more who I am afraid I may have missed (and I know I have missed) but i'm emotional and hormonal and crying as I type this.

This is, and always has been, for you guys who have given me your support and love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I never would have finished without the love and support of every single person who has read this.

Thank you.

How evergreen, our group of friends

The kitchen, despite the literal war that had raged on outside in District One, was quite literally untouched. Untouched, as in, no one had ever used it even prior to the games or the war that should have resolved the house itself to rubble. 

They had quickly discovered that despite varying levels of damage to the districts, the Victors Villages were left nearly untouched. Call it symbolism, call it fate, call it making a point, but this was not a fact any of the surviving victors were going to debate or question. 

For now they were all just going to be thankful to even have a place to live, especially one that wasn’t an underground bunker in a district that resented them. 

It’s Clove, who is opening and shutting every single cabinet in the bright white kitchen. The golden handles and marble countertops are pristine– perfect and completely new. Every drawer is completely stocked with spices and the same sorts of things her own home had come with, but it is evident that these cabinets had remained untouched from their initial stocking. There was no dusting of cinnamon around the pores of the bottle, no slight film of salt from pouring over a steaming pot. They were still perfectly alphabetized, perfectly aligned in the spice drawer, as if the kitchen itself was taken right out of a capitol home decor magazine. 

Funnily enough, though the kitchen was clearly new, it was so…Glimmer. Or at least the Glimmer she had been forced to become.  

Gorgeous white marble countertops, shimmering golden metal for every door handle and knob on every drawer. The utensils were a beautiful gold, and even the appliances were designed to blend right in with the shining and glamorous surroundings. 

In one drawer, she found incredibly sharp knives with mother of pearl handles, in another were soft baby pink pans. It was very much designed for the fifteen year old teenage girl who had won the house as part of her victor’s spoils.

Somehow, even without the Capitol’s influence, Clove still believes Glimmer would have turned out a golden, pink-loving girl. Or at least, it’s comforting to imagine it that way. 

Clove curls her fingers around the shimmering handle of one of the paring knives, bringing it to eye level to inspect it. The blade is alarmingly sharp for one designed to dice vegetables or carve into fruits, further supporting Clove’s suspicion that it had never been used prior to well, right now. She weighs it in her hand, feeling the way it settles in her palm. Her other hand comes to run over the couple of inches of metal, evaluating the quality. It was top of the line in terms of cooking, of course, nothing but the best for any victor, but it may even serve well in terms of slicing through-

She drops the knife, flinching only a little at the realization of how the metal colliding with the marble will dull the beautiful little blade. It startles her, not the sound of the metal on rock, no that any District Two girl could sleep through like a lullaby, but by the harsh realization of her own thoughts. She would likely never slice through anything but food again, there would be no more blood spitting on her from pulsing arteries, no more tendons severed. 

Clove would probably never kill anyone else ever again. The thought is both disconcerting and comforting, leaving Clove alarmed and settled.

“Are you okay?” A soft, sleepy voice asks from around the entrance to the kitchen. When Clove looks up she sees Glimmer, rubbing at her eyes with her long cream colored sleeves. She shuffles into the kitchen in fluffy white slippers, a sweater that reaches halfway down her legs, and exceptionally messy loose braids that tell Clove that yeah she probably did just wake up.

“Good morning, Princess.” Clove scoffs, gently grabbing the dropped knife and twisting it nimbly between her fingers. “It’s four in the afternoon, Glimmer. Did you have a busy night?” 

“I was with Cash and Gloss all night, we’re trying to figure out what to do about our parents.” Glimmer sits herself at the island continuing to rub at her eye with the heel of her hand, exhaustion written all across her pretty face. “I didn’t come back until this morning.” 

Clove flinches at her own insensitivity– while she was well used to being, well, alone. An orphan. On her own. Whatever, it was..new for the others. Cato’s family was still in the wind, but Glimmer and her siblings, as well as Marvel, were new to the world of being parentless. “God, Glimmer, I’m sorry–”

At least Glimmer had Cashmere and Gloss, the same could not be said for Marvel, who was the only surviving member of his entire family. Clove could easily relate to that, because even if anyone survived, they were dead to her long ago. 

Glimmer just nods her head, acknowledging but not verbally accepting the apology her friend offers. 

Nothing had been necessarily right between the four of them since the vote. Cato and Clove, they were perfectly fine, of course. Marvel however had lost any progress he had made with Glimmer, and Cato nor Clove had yet to fully return to her good graces. It wasn’t even like any of them could blame her for being mad. She had been right. 

“Thanks for letting us stay with you.” She decides, instead filling the space between them with gentle words of appreciation. “Like..literally in your house with you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that.. It’s nice not to be alone.” Glimmer sighs, resting her chin on her hand and looking across the island to Clove, who is still twisting a knife in her hand. “I don’t know if i’m quite ready to be alone yet.”

They weren’t necessarily far from anyone. Marvel spent the days over here with them, Brutus was in one of the empty houses, Cash and Gloss each in their own and then Enobaria was– “Is Enobaria staying across the street in the empty one or down the road–”

Glimmer cocks an eyebrow, the littlest smirk making an appearance on her face. “She’s staying with my sister.”

“Oh!” Clove looks nearly taken aback as she opens another drawer, absently sorting through the perfect, unused cutting boards and kitchen aids to distract herself from the awkward tension between her and her host. “I didn’t know they were even friends.”

“Girl..” Glimmer giggles, leaning in closer on the island, nearly pressing her upper body into the marble. “You know Enobaria and Cashmere are..” She makes a gesture with her middle and pointer finger that Clove can’t interpret, and the confused look on her freckled face must convey that to the blonde girl.  “Right?”

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Do I need to spell it out for you, Clove? They’re fucking. They’re a thing.”

“What! No, I mean just because they’re staying together doesn’t mean–” The heat in Clove’s cheeks at the realization leaves her flustered, and flustered is not a look Clove wears well. 

“Well that's what everyone thinks about the four of us.” Glimmer teases, before bringing her hand out infront of her to inspect the remnants of her nails. “Seriously. They’ve been a thing for like…god Cash won sixty-four? So… ten…ish years? Probably? I dunno. But it’s not a secret. I’m shocked you couldn’t tell.”

“Well I didn’t see them together much, okay? And noone thinks that the four of us are all fucking, Glimmer. That’s crazy Capitol type shit.” Clove defends, desperately looking through the drawers for a change of topic. Maybe she could understand why Enobaria got so irritated when ever she and Cato got caught–

Yep. Okay. Makes sense!

“Sure they don’t Clove, you don’t see the looks people give us?”

Clove digs through the drawers, finding the still boxed mixer and the perfect white plates, nothing seeming even a little out of place. She is flustered and the heat in her neck and face won’t even allow her to respond to such comments. 

“For fucks sake, Glimmer, have you used anything in this kitchen.”

“Drawer closest to the refrigerator has two little plates and two forks. We used to …uh…we would eat a lot of cake.” Glimmer finds herself grabbing at the skin around her nail with her teeth, tugging at the cuticles until they ripped off. She couldn’t resist the urge to constantly be picking at and degrading something about her body, and right now her nails were all she had access to.  “Other than that, not really.”

“How did you survive, Glimmer? Seriously?” Clove rests a hand on the back of her hip, strumming along the top of her hip while also trying to massage out some of the pain of her lower back that never seemed to go away. 

“Well, everything I ate was precooked and preweighed, I had to keep a certain look you know?” Glimmer shrugs, kicking her feet just a little at the height of the chair, twisting just ever so slightly to keep herself comfortable. “I wasn’t really allowed to go beyond that. Cooking was never important.”

“You’re gonna have to learn to make something Glimmer, especially if you ever have kids–” Clove teases, but the biting response of Glimmer wipes the smile right off of her face. 

“I told you in the Capitol I'm not doing that. I’m never doing that. I don’t want to.” Glimmer snaps before she pushes herself out of the chair so she can make a quick escape if the conversation goes any further south. 

“You used to, I’m sorry, Glimmer. That's who I knew you as. The girl who wanted to settle into her life and be someone’s mother. And for what it’s worth, Glim Glam, I think you’d have been good at it.” Clove puts a hand up in defense, before she awkwardly goes back to going through the remaining cabinets, stopping prior to the refrigerator and pantry.

 She pauses, and turns to face her friend. She gives a heavy sigh, bracing herself on the counter behind her, when she begins.

 “I’m sorry. I am. About the vote. You were right, and as soon as you pulled me into that room– I knew you were right. About his sister and about our friends’ kids and everything. I just wanted to feel like some wrong was made right, Glimmer. It wasn’t going to be me back in the games, and I wanted them to feel what it was like. But then you mentioned Cora, and god knows if she’s alive, but if she is she couldn’t ever go to the games. Or Finnick’s kids, or yours or– I don’t know. All of a sudden it wasn’t just like..nameless kid tributes. It was people we knew. It was kids we knew. It was little girls who looked like you and little red heads in four and! It was kids we love or will love and– you were right. And I’m sorry.”

There is a stunned silence for a few seconds that feels like years to Clove, as Glimmer looks at her with the look of a doe caught in the lights of a car. 

“....thank you.” Glimmer whispers in response, but something palpable has finally shifted between them. Whatever permafrost had threatened to take hold on the boundaries of their friendship started to melt away in that moment. Maybe not a heat wave, but a start. “I…thank you, Clove.”

Clove gives Glimmer another once over as they stand staring at each other. The months of this war had taken a toll on Clove of course, evidenced by the aches in her body and the scars along her skin. Her scars would fade, as her bruises had, and even the pain isn’t visible. On the outside Clove still looked almost exactly like she always had. 

On Glimmer though, the changes were blatant. The golden glow of her skin was long gone, replaced by pale, nearly gray undertones. That long platinum hair was longer than ever, but now revealed multiple inches of a honey blonde natural color that had been hidden since before she even won the games. Even the actual structure of her face and body had changed. Any capitol enhancement had long since grown out or metabolized away, leaving Glimmer with deep collar bones and sinking skin on her cheeks. 

She looked exhausted but she also looked starved. She looked sick. 

“Glimmer…you look hungry.” Clove gives her a look that must be riddled with pity, for the blonde looks away and at her hands instead. “Will you please let me make you something? I know there probably isn’t much in here but I can send the boys out…” B

Before Glimmer can argue or decline, Clove swings the door open to what she expected to be a barren refrigerator and is taken back by the fully stocked fridge that awaits her. 

Well. Full. And Stocked. Maybe not with actual kitchen staples or ingredients for meals, but definitely full. 

“What in the fuck–”

“Marvel does that sometimes. And Cato’s been talking nonstop about your cooking for literal months. They went yesterday, I think. I..don’t think either of them knew what they were doing but they’ve got the spirit. They mean well.,” Glimmer explains, not bothering to put up a fight with Clove and deny her this opportunity. Even if she didn’t eat it– Cato and Marvel sure fucking would.  This was their new Hunger Games.

“Good intentions…that's why there’s seventeen tomatoes?” Clove raises an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile gracing her face as she surveys the fridge. Sure it was a little..odd.. Seventeen tomatoes, three bags of flour, at least fifty eggs, a dozen heads of garlic… odd but good intentioned nonetheless. “I’m going to guess they wanted pasta?”

“That sounds right. I think I heard Cato saying something about that, but they lost me when I heard them trying to remember if onions and garlic are the same thing.” Glimmer shrugs, but finds herself going back to sit at the island, no longer on the verge of running out of the kitchen at any moment. 

Clove starts grabbing armfuls of the tomatoes to transfer them to the countertop, feeling the soft flesh of one under her fingertips. She probably wouldn’t even need the chef’s knife, but damn if she wasn’t going to take the opportunity to use it. “Do you have a big- you know what, nevermind.”  

She decides against asking for a stock pot, knowing fully well Glimmer would have no idea what she was talking about. Instead, she rummages through the cabinets until she does in fact find a blush pink soup pot practically bigger than Clove herself.  She immediately sets herself to gently slicing the skin off of the tomatoes, delighting in the way the acidic juice dripped down over her fingers.

“You should give him a chance, Glimmer, he’s a good guy.” Clove suggests, tossing each individual skinned tomato into the giant pink pot one at a time. 

“I’m not the one not interested, Clove, you know that.” Glimmer reminds her bitterly, reaching forward to attempt to grab a tomato, dropping it when the acid in the juice burns the raw skin around her nails. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Now that isn’t true and you know it. You two seemed fine and then the vote happened and you shut him down again.” Clove points out, turning to the cabinet behind her to grab her selection of the endless array of unused spices. “Which, I get it, you were hurt–”

“He can’t just make my trauma a personal vendetta, Clove. He can’t advocate for slaughtering babies in an arena under the name of defending me and the things that happened to me.” Glimmer hops off the chair once again, this time letting herself scope out the refrigerator and whatever the hell the boys had come up with to fill it with. 

“It happened to him, too, Glimmer. Maybe not as much as it did to you. But it happened to him, too.” Clove collects salt and sugar and various other jars of spices she currently can’t name but knows for some reason she needs to add them. “Glim. Sometimes we care more about avenging the people we love, rather than actually doing what's right. The things that are done to people you love..sometimes that's just worse.” 

“You don’t know what it’s like, Clove. To be seen as the girl who fucks everyone. Whether I wanted to or not. And trust me, I didn’t want to. And no matter how hard I try, for the rest of my life, that is how everyone is going to see me. Do you know what the best part of all this is, Clove? That I never have to be seen in public ever again.” She filters through the fruit– half a dozen containers of strawberries, a single mango, an entire box of blueberries– before letting herself grab a single blueberry for a snack. 

“We don’t see you that way, you know? Not me, not Cato, and god Glimmer you know Marvel doesn’t either.”  Clove assures, using the palm of her hand to measure out the various herbs and spices she’s tossing in. There’s no recipe– she’s just doing what feels right. Such is the theme for all aspects of their lives right now.  “And you never have to do that again. Hell, never have sex again at all for all I care, obviously I do but–”

“Yeah, Clove, I know. We share a wall. The wall your bed is on.” 

“Oh! Right! Well.. anyway!” Clove fakes a grimace and mouths ‘sorry’ before she places a lid on her creation. “Come on. Let's go find the boys, then I'll show you how to make the pasta.”

“I think they’re laying in the yard.” Glimmer waves off, before grabbing another handful of berries to pop into her mouth.

“They’re…laying in the yard?” Clove raises a dark eyebrow, confusion mapped across her face. “Are they dogs?”

“Something about missing grass and fresh air in Thirteen, I don’t know, I could hear them through the window.” Glimmer shakes her head, but stands in the doorway of the refrigerator. “Do you need anything out of here?”

“They’re fucking weird.” Clove clears off a workspace to knead and roll out the pasta, recognizing that this is probably the first time these counters have been used for anything ever. “uh yeah I need eggs and flour… Honestly, I usually make Cato come do this part because I like to watch his hands knead the dough but…let them…become one with nature or whatever they’re out there doing.”

“Why do you need flowers in noodles? I didn’t think you could eat those?” Glimmer cocks her head, holding out the cardboard carton of a dozen eggs to her, but pausing with a perplexed look on her face as she searches the refrigerator for a bouquet of some sort. “I can go check the garden–”

“What? No Glimmer, Flour not flowers.” Clove wipes her hands on the side of her shirt– Cato’s shirt, actually–, and comes next to her friend to point at the various bags on the bottom shelf. “It’s like..it’s white powder, I can’t explain it. It makes bread. Noodles. Cookies… pizza. It makes all the good stuff you probably don’t eat. But we are going to change that.” 

There are a few moments of  silence, as Clove measures things. It’s nearly peaceful, with the only sounds coming from the dough being flopping and kneaded into the marble. 

Silent, that is, until Glimmer finally breaks. 

“Thank you for staying with me.” Glimmer manages to get out, when tears Clove didn’t even know were coming just start pouring out of her friend. “I-i’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, I don’t want to be alone yet.”

Clove pauses her hand folding, brushing her flour covered hands on her shirt before she rests her elbows on the counter, leaning in to truly hear her friend. “Glimmer, you aren’t going to be alone forever.”

“But I am! Yeah, Cash and Gloss are here but..they aren’t here. My parents are gone. You and Cato are going to go home, I don’t want to be alone yet.” Glimmer sobs, furiously wiping at her eyes with her sleeves, Mascara from god knows when smearing along them. “Noone wants a girl that everyone has had, at least not for more than a night, Clove! I’m alone and when i’m alone I just..I swear it’s like someone’s going to come in and they’re going to touch me and they’re going to hurt me and–”

“You’re scared.” Clove realizes, and her heart completely and utterly shatters for the girl. She sees her not as the twenty something girl in front of her, but instead a scared fifteen year old victor she never got to grow out of being. “It’s okay to be scared, but no one's going to hurt you anymore.” She nearly reaches for her hand, she nearly reaches to do anything to comfort her, but something tells her that sudden touch is the furthest thing from what Glimmer needs right now. 

“Someone is always ready to hurt me, Clove. It’s all anyone wants out of me. Noone wants me but they all want me. I just think about all the things they’ve done to me, Clove. How many times they’ve shot me up with something or gave me a handful of pills and just told me to swallow them. Who knows what they’ve done to me…” Glimmer cries, hot tears tracking down her face and onto the fabric of her sleeves. They speckle her sweater, soaking into the cream colored fabric and turning it dark. The levee has broken within Glimmer, and the rushing waves of grief cannot be stopped. “When I won..my sister and brother used to sleep down here. So when I wake up screaming they could come up to me. And then in the Capitol I was NEVER alone and as soon as I was…Cash would come in. She’d hold me, tell me how sorry she was that she let me become a victor, that she didn’t stop me from trying to go to the games. And then, god, once I had Marvel, he practically moved in and he slept me and I actually felt safe. I could sleep. Even back when we were just friends…he’d let me sleep in his room in the Capitol, he was never touchy or pushy or anything. He just let me sleep and sometimes he’d hold me and it was the best sleep I had since I won.”  Glimmer wipes at the tears  again, ignoring how messy she had to look right now. It was her own kitchen and really what did she have left to lose? Glimmer rambles on,  “And you two are here and so I try to sleep and it isnt working as well as it used to and in thirteen I was so afraid every time I heard someone was in the hall that they were going to come in and —“

“When was the last time you slept, Glimmer? Actually slept?” Clove eases, sliding her a dish towel to use to clear the tears from her eyes. “You have to be exhausted.”

“Probably the games, funny enough. Weird that I felt safe enough there but- it is what it is. I tried in Thirteen! And here! it’s just…I can still feel their hands on my skin a-and feel them breathing on my neck and hear their voices and the sound of their feet coming to get me. If I fall asleep they’re there taunting me and grabbing me and-and-and!“ Glimmer  continues to recount her nightmares and real life horrors, her breath catching in her throat and coming out in heaving, panicked, desperate gasps. “I just don’t see what the point of all this was. I don’t have anyone and I’m terrified in my own house and my parents are gone and what did I survive it all for if I’m going to be alone?” 

“You aren’t going to be alone. You aren’t, and you can stay with someone or something but, God Glimmer. Out of all of us, all of the things we have gone through, you Glimmer deserve a happy ending. You deserve to feel safe and loved and god, Glimmer, you deserve to be happy.” Clove finally grabs at her arm, gently squeezing her forearm. “You are safe, Glimmer. And no one gets to hurt you ever again. I promise, Glimmer. You are going to be happy.”

Glimmer…does not learn how to make pasta that day. 

Ten minutes of egg and flour stuck to her fingers is enough to send her back to the verge of tears and back to a safe distance away where she instead watches only. 

Once the dough is chilling and the sauce is stewing, they retreat to the living area, sprawled out on the baby pink couches. 

They sit in comfortable silence while the sauce cooks, Glimmer curled up on the foot of the couch, Clove outstretched on the other end with a book of District One history spread out in her lap. 

It’s peaceful. Comfortable. Safe. 

When Clove notices the Glimmer has fallen asleep, she grabs the fur  throw blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it over her friend. Never in her life had she planned to care for some random victor girl from District One, with enough trauma and abuse in her short life for all of them combined, but here she was. War, she supposed, changed the way you see the world. 

She doesn’t even need to call the boys in for dinner like a mother calling for her kids to come in at sundown, because like the bloodhounds men tend to be, they all but run through the glass back door like the children they never got to be once the smell of dinner reaches the outdoors. 

“Clove? Clove, are you cooking? Do I smell food?” Marvel slips in the door first, literally just edging Cato out to get in before him. “Holy mother of god, that's food. I can SMELL the spice, there's salt in it isn’t there. You’re a fucking saint.”

“You’re a moron.” Cato rolls his eyes, but pushes Marvel out of the way just so he can beat him to the island. “…there is salt and stuff right?”

“You’re also a moron.” It’s Clove’s turn to roll her eyes instead, as she fishes a single pasta noodle out of the water to try it. “If i remember correctly you did talk about my cooking every day for weeks…”

“Months.” Glimmer chimes in as she makes her appearance. It’s only been a couple of hours since she fell asleep on the couch but even the brief nap has her looking noticeably better and more rested. “Every day for months.”

Clove catches Glimmer (but not Cato) off guard with how fast she moves when she reaches out to grab Marvel’s wrist as he goes to dip a spoon into the sauce. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Clove, I'm serious,this is the best moment I've had in months, let me have this. I need something good in my life.” Marvel half pleads, and the tired tone in his voice paired with the exhaustion behind his eyes is all that it takes before Clove is releasing his wrist and turning away. 

“Do NOT go in twice, I will cut off your fingers.” She threatens and has to nearly slap Cato’s fingers away from the pasta noodles where they are cooling. “You two are like fucking children.”

“Oh my god.” Comes from Marvel, but it sounds somewhere between a cry and a gasp. “Clove this is the best thing i’ve had-maybe ever. Maybe that's the war trauma but-” Ignoring her threats he risks it for another dip, and then steps immediately a few steps out of her reach. “Can you stay here? Seriously, can we keep you? Cato you can stay too, if that helps.” 

Marvel slides to the other side of the island, safely out of reach of all three of them as he debates just dipping a coffee cup and drinking the sauce. “For fucks sake, Cato, kiss her. Or Glimmer, you do it. I don’t care. One of you..just..appreciate her.”

“I’ll still kill you.” Cato warns, but he is slightly distracted by the handfuls of fresh pasta he is dropping into his mouth. “Clove is very appreciated, thank you very themuch.”

“.....are you crying?” Glimmer leans onto the counter, propping her chin in her hand as she outright smirks at her once boyfriend. There's the spark of light behind her eyes that Snow had snuffed out long ago starting to glow just a little again. 

“No!” Marvel defends himself indignantly, but they all hear the sniffle and the stifled“......maybe a little.”

I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want just not home

Two months after their initial arrival in One, at the end of the second great war, after months of Clove feeding them, many tears from Glimmer at their goodbye, and promises of continued communication under the new mechanisms and options– phones communications, along with travel between districts, were allowed once again– Clove, Cato, Brutus, and Enobaria were on their train home. 

Maybe it was irony, or maybe it was fate, but they take the incredibly short trip home on the same train they had come to the Capitol on in their prior games. Neither had ever noticed how the high speed trains went from One to Two in under half an hour, but then again, why would they have paid attention when they were young invincible victors with the entire world at their fingertips?

Still, even a twenty seven minute train ride feels like absolute eternity when you do not know what waits for you on the other end. 

She is sitting as she always has on these trips– curled up with her back against his chest, settled between his legs, head resting on his shoulder. Her fingers snake up to where his arm is resting on the back of the couch, and she laces her fingers in with his. 

Clove sighs as her eyes flutter shut, choosing not to watch the passage of destroyed buildings, burned farms, and mass civilian graves.  There was a time in her life where no amount of bloodshed or the loss of life made her bat an eye— it was what they were trained for— but now…something about it made her stomach turn. 

“It doesn’t feel like we’re going home.” Cato mumbles into the crown of her head, sliding his other hand firmly around her waist and holding her tighter to him. “It doesn’t feel like we even have one.”

“I don’t think we do.” Clove twists in his arms just a little so that she can see his face and languidly brings her free hand up to graze along his jawline. “I mean, we have a house, but I don’t think anyone will want to see us. Exiled to Victor’s Village ..” Her nails scratch along the planes of his skin gently, as she cranes her neck back to really look at him. 

She has spent over half of her life looking at him, learning with him, and ultimately the last six loving him. Looking at him now, though, it’s almost like seeing him through new eyes. 

Scars that the capitol would never take from him along his arms from retraining, golden blonde hair that had grown out enough it reached nearly to his eyelashes, the brightest sky blue eyes that harbored exhaustion far beyond that of a twenty one year old man. 

And yet. It almost felt new to look at this man right now, in the same position on the same train they had been in time and time again. 

It was new to see him in a world without The Hunger Games. 

In a world where they would not wake up day to day to train the next class of tribute children, a world where they would not mentor victor and victor to parade home with pride to their district. A world where they would not raise their own children to volunteer for the games, where they would sacrifice them with a smile on their faces for the glory of being the parents of their own victor child, or pretend it did not shatter them to lose that same glorified baby to the games because they wouldn’t want to raise anything less than ideal little victors. 

There was a version of them, somewhere, that dedicates the rest of their lives to the Hunger Games. 

This is not that version of them. Not anymore. 

Maybe it is because she knows what the life of a victor truly holds now. She learned in the confessions of Finnick, in the strangled screams of Glimmer in the middle of the night. She learned in the stories of Johanna, in the depravity of Haymitch. She learned in the desperation of Katniss, the destruction of Peeta. She learned of it in the loss of her mother. 

She learns of a different life of a Victor, now. In the disapproving, but secretly adoring, looks from Enobaria when Cato carries her across a room. In the appreciative murmurs of Brutus, when he has pancakes with chocolate chips before him. In the updates on Annie’s growing family, in Marvel’s silly, stupid, but nonetheless endearing jokes. 

Above all else she learns of it in the love of Cato, who saw her at the lowest shell of herself, and loved her even still. 

Cato raises an eyebrow at her, shaking her just a little. “You’re thinking of something.” It’s his turn to bring a hand to her face, unwinding from her waist so he can tilt her chin up to meet his eyes more properly. “The corners of your lips twitch when you’re thinking too hard.”

Clove smiles gently, allowing the corners of her mouth to come to a soft grin. “I was just thinking about the last time we were on this particular train. On our way to the Quell. I didn’t think we’d be on our way back like this.”

“I also thought we were only leaving that arena in pine boxes. I didn’t think I’d be coming home. I never thought we’d come home together alive. ”  He nods, looking past her rather than at her as he recollects the feelings and emotions of that day, leaving their district for what they expected to be the last time. Their days were numbered, or so they had every reason to believe. 

For the first time, maybe in the entirety of their short lives, that was no longer the case. 

Clove stretches both her arms out to wrap them behind his neck, relaxing fully and truly into his arms. “Is it crazy to say it feels like we won?”

The station is barren and silent when the train stops. There is no great crowd to welcome home the newest victor this time, no officials to celebrate them. 

And yet, when the four of them are back on the train platform,  surrounded by the rubble of what was once the greatest district in the country, there has never been a sweeter homecoming. 

My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you

The walk home is harrowing. Two months of cleanup had barely touched the majority of the evidence of the violence, especially along the bases of the mountain, where the various villages had to stack their dead. Slowly but surely they had been transported back to their towns to properly be buried under the traditions of each of the different villages.

That, of course, was just for the bodies that had even been recovered. 

Nearly half of District Two’s population was unaccounted for, and reconstruction efforts had only barely begun to move the piles of rocks that represent the rubble of what was once towering buildings and neighborhoods full of homes. 

The true carnage of the war, the gravity of the loss in this district alone was yet to be understood and tallied. Cato cannot say a word on the walk home, as every time he thinks about the bodies of his parents and sister rotting away under the ash of two, his throat feels like it is going to close on him. Clove by extension says nothing either, only threading her arm around his, holding that same arm with her other hand. There are no words to negate the pain of loss, to ease the ache of the unknown. 

The gate to Victor’s Village is somehow perfectly intact, and from what they can see beyond, so are the pristine lines of ornate houses. A layer of ash covers the ground like fallen snow, and the air feels unseasonably cold up here. It is as if the ghosts of the victors, the families, all of the dead haunt these gates, encasing them in a blanket of melancholy as a reminder that they are the survivors yet again. 

The chill especially wraps around Clove, sending an ache deep to her joints, a reminder that while she is a survivor, she was a victim, too. They have survived but they do not come home unscathed, they do not come home the victors they left as. 

There are lights on in the two houses across the street from their own, and the reminder of life of their mentors is one of the only calming thoughts they can cling to.The rest of the houses sit empty, stale air circulating through them with no victors left to call them home. There is no evidence that there was once life in these houses, no shoes on the porch, no watering cans in the yards. Just like that what was once the fullest victors village has become a ghost town. 

The decision to come back had not been an easy one. District One was in a far better condition, and frankly, none of them were quite ready for life on their own after so much time relying on each other for company and sanity during the war. They didn’t even really have motivation to come back– what did they have waiting behind for them. Eventually the announcement came – much to the dismay of many many many citizens– that the surviving Victors would continue to receive monthly stipends (albeit not near as much as pre-war days) as reparation for the torture and violence inflicted on them at the hands of the prior government  ever since their victory. It made it easier to know that upon their return they weren’t going to have to assimilate into societal roles (and for Glimmer, the real relief came that she would never have to work in retail in one). 

Ultimately, the decision to come back was their own. This place, despite the horrors, the violence, the brutality…it was their home. Maybe it was those things that made it home. 

They stand in the charred grass at the very edge of their yard, Clove with her head resting against his body, Cato running his hand over her arm in an attempt to warm her body to ward off the ghosts of pain that the cold brings on. He rests his head on top of hers as they look at the grandiosity of the home they left behind, still frozen in time, as a relic of the time they were eighteen and in love, feeling invincible. 

“Hey…babe?” Cato wrinkles his brows together, lifting his head from atop hers. “Do you have a key?”

Well of course they didn’t have a key– it wasn’t like they had considered leaving one under the doormat on their way to their certain deaths. 

“Fuck.” Clove laughs against his arm, burying her face in the dark wool of his coat. Her laugh is contagious to him, and he’s shaking his head with a laugh not too long after her. Out of all the obstacles that should have kept them from ever crossing the threshold of their home again, they had not thought to anticipate a key being one. 

She flashes him a playful smirk, raising her eyebrows teasingly. “Are we going to break into our own house?”

Sure, Cato could probably just go through the front door. Of course with the current state of Two, that door would not be replaced because a couple of kids broke into their own house. 

“We left the bedroom window unlocked.” Cato reminds her, catching her off guard as he grabs her by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. “I mean.. I hope we left the window unlocked.”

Clove nearly shrieks as she ends up in the air, his hands giving taunting pinches on the very top of her thighs as he fully carries her to the back yard. The grass is overgrown in some places, burnt in others, Clove notices as she stares at the ground from her place on his shoulder.

Cato surprises Clove again when he flips her from his shoulder to his arms, one hand under her knees and the other under her shoulders as he cradles her against him. “Okay. You’re going in.”  

It’s not even surprising how easily he lifts her to a standing position on his hands, how he can push her towards the bedroom window with such ease. All that to say, Clove's short arms and legs do not make it any easier, with her fingertips barely able to reach the window screen to pry it off. When she does she sends it flying down behind her, and only from the groan she hears from Cato can she tell it hit him. It is using all the dexterity of her little fingers that she is able to slide the window up and open.

“Got it!” Clove calls down to him, and lightly twists her ankle in his palm. “You gotta throw me a little.”

“I can’t throw you through the window–” Cato scoffs, shaking his head adamantly. “No way in hell.”

“Cato I can’t reach, You need to just give me a little boost-”

“A little boost i’m already holding you above my head–” 

“Cato! A little toss!” Clove insists, jolting her foot with a little annoyance. “I’m serious, we need to get in–”

“Fine! But if you bust your face open don’t blame me.” Cato grumbles, and grabs her by the bottom of her shoes. “Okay, ready?”

Clove nods, already bracing her hands on either side of the window. When he gives her the little bit of a toss (more than a little, considering the strength he doesn’t even realize he exerts sometimes), Clove is able to flip in through the window. 

All Cato can hear is a slight scream from his wife as she tumbles into the house.

“Clove…babe…you alright?” Cato calls up, an edge of panic infiltrating his cool tone.  “Baby…”

Clove appears in the window, resting her elbows on the window ledge as she smiles down at him with a coy smirk. “You look like you’re here to beg me to sneak out.”

“If I remember correctly it was me who had the house first..” Cato responds to her smirk with his own, running a hand over the side of his hair. “Will you let me in? I didn’t throw you through the window just so I could still break down the door.”

“Patience, patience, Cato.” Clove teases, but the smile on her face could keep Cato going for the rest of his life. “I’m coming, meet you out front.”

Cato beats her to the front door. Patience has never been his strength, and frankly, it’s fucking cold and she is taking a weirdly long amount of time before she comes down. “Clove open the door, I'm not playing around.” 

When the door does swing open to Clove, somehow already changed into one of his shirts and one of his shirts only, she greets him with a dark smirk, looking up at him from thick lashes. “Welcome home.”

The thin layer of dust that covers every surface in their house is a problem for another time.

Later…after.. Clove sits between his legs in the bath, the water as hot as they can possibly get it, soothing every ache in the crooks of her spine. His fingers trace imaginary shapes over the back of her hand, her head against his chest and shoulder. Hot water had been one of the biggest losses in Thirteen. Clove had imagined this particular moment for months. So much so that it was the first- well…second– thing they did once they were back in their home. 

Their names were still carved into the bedpost, their laundry still in pre-sorted piles on the bathroom floor.  Clove’s skin yearns for the softness of the clean sheets they had left behind (though maybe they were not so clean with the dust and ash layer on every surface). In the morning, Clove will treat herself to tea with the rest of the honey in the cabinet above the sink and to the left. 

“You know, I think Enobaria had the spare key.” Cato realizes with his lips on Clove’s neck, and he deserves the light smack to the side of his head once he says it.

“I do not want to think about Enobaria right now, thank you very much.” Clove mumbles, tilting her neck so he can have more more more as she feels his other hand wrapping around her waist and sliding lower. 

“We made it home, sweetheart.” Cato kisses into the skin of her neck, pulling her somehow even closer. “We’re home.”

“We are home.” Clove repeats, but the emphasis she places changes the meaning of the statement. Yes, they are home. But they are home. 

He is hers and she is his. 

They are home. 

And If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still around. 

Home is not as idyllic as they may have remembered, but it was home. 

The thunderstorms that once lulled her to sleep, jolted her awake with a racing heart. The sound of rain no longer rain, but too identical to the distant sound of bombs in their homeland.  When she ends up sitting on the porch in the middle of the night, forcing herself to face it, she is always joined by a heavy blanket being draped around her shoulders, and Cato sitting wordlessly beside her. What they don’t know is that in a district not too far away, another girl screams herself awake from nightmares of the past, and is joined by the innocent affection of a man who slides into bed next to her only to sleep, who holds her only with the intention to comfort her while expecting nothing in return. 

The cold hurts more than she imagined it would. It is not just the recollection of nearly freezing to death that frightens her anymore, it is the pain in her body. Their home is somehow always chilly, her wrists and shoulders and back always aching fiercely. Cato knows her, he has her entire life, and is always adamant to add another blanket to the bed or turn up the heat even when it leaves him himself sweating. 

Brutus and Enobaria still let themselves in multiple days a week for breakfast.

A few weeks into their return, a knock on their front door long before breakfast startles them both. He’s sitting at the kitchen island admiring the concentration on her face as she carves into something she will undoubtedly transform into something fantastic in an hour or so. 

“Who comes to see us?” Clove raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from her task before her. “Enobaria and Brutus have never knocked, and you know Glimmer and Marvel couldn’t be awake this early..”

“They’ll leave.” Cato shrugs, reaching out a hand to nab some of the intricately carved strawberries Clove had already finished with. “Ignore it.”

The knocking only increases in frequency and volume, and Cato rolls his eyes as he pushes himself away. “I’ll get rid of them.”

Clove can’t wipe away the smirk that rises as she watches him walk away, all shirtless with sweatpants slung so low on his hips that it wouldn’t take much effort from her when he comes back to–

She hears the door swing open but does not hear him scare anyone off with a threat, nor does she hear anything at all. “Babe?” Clove calls out behind him, wiping off the blade of her knife with a towel before she lays it down on her cutting board. “Cato?” She calls again, quickly covering the distance from the kitchen to the front door. Cato isn’t even in the doorway, and Clove doesn’t know why that makes her heart race.

Once she makes it to the door, to see what is waiting on the porch, her heart fully stops. 

Wrapped around Cato’s torso are the long baby limbs of his baby sister, little arms clinging around his neck, long blonde curls covering where her face is absolutely buried in his neck. He’s got both arms around the girl, one hand holding her head to his shoulder.  Immediately to his left, with her hand on his arm, is his mother. War was unkind to her, as the woman Clove once looked up to and yearned to emulate in some ways looked more fragile than ever. 

“Hi Clove, Honey.”  Cato’s mother greets her with an exhausted, bone tired smile. There is a lack of light in those blue eyes, a sorrow Clove hopes never to imagine. 

Clove furrows her eyebrows, tilting her head just a little and it is enough of a question for the older woman to perceive it.  

His mother takes in a sharp breath and shakes her head very quickly in the negative and it is all Clove needs to see to know that this is it, this is all that remains of Cato’s family. A mother and a sister.  

“I missed you, so so much kiddo.” Cato whispers to the girl, gently running his hand over the back of her head over and over again. 

Clove steps forward and gently places a hand on the taller woman’s arm, ever so slightly squeezing. “I’m so sorry.” 

The blonde woman presses her lip together and nods, taking her arm off of her son and instead wrapping them around Clove in a hug. “I’m glad to see you again. I don’t think he would have survived it without you.” 

“I wouldn’t have either.” Clove admits, allowing herself to squeeze a little tighter to the woman, analyzing her change in body structure. 

“He’s been gone a long time.” His mother informs them both, patting Clove’s cheek gently before she goes back to wrap her son and little daughter in her arms. 

“Where have you been?” Cato gets out, his voice nearly cracking as he looks down on his mother. “Where did you go?”

“We’ve just been on the move, huh baby?” His mom brushes Cora’s little arm, pulling her attention from where she is hiding in her brother’s arms. “We have just moved constantly, no one could catch us if they didn’t know where we were.”

“Is home…” Cato starts, unable to force the rest of the words out into the world. 

“Gone. long gone.” His mother explains, as Cora raises her head and latches eyes with Clove. 

“You can stay in my house.” Clove immediately offers out, waving slightly at Cora. “Hi, sunshine.”

Immediately Cora lifts her little blonde head and practically wriggles out of Cato’s arms, nearly running into her once she has her little feet on the ground. With his arms free Cato wraps his arms fully around his mother in a hug, and Clove can see the way he melts into his mother;s arms like a little boy

Clove initially wants to kneel to Cora’s level, to become eye to eye with her. However, this six year old child is nearly to her shoulder’s already, and Clove is taken back by how tall this little girl has become. “You’ve gotten so big!”

“I’m as tall as you!” She cheers, and this bright angel of a child wraps her arms around her sister in law. “I missed you, Clove.”

“We missed you too, Cora Jade.” Clove promises, leaning down just a little to kiss the top of her head. “I think you’re going to stay in the house next to us for a little while!” She can no longer scoop her up, with how tall and gangly she has become in the last year. Clove tries anyway, scooping Cato’s sister to sit on her hip despite the fact they are nearly the same size. Cora immediately relaxes against her, and somehow, some way, Clove feels like something deep inside her relaxes with relief, too. 

And though I can’t recall your face, I’ve still got love for you 

For kids who had been trained to kill, who have taken lives, they were more surrounded by death than ever before. They hadn’t expected the influx of funeral services and war memorials they would be expected to attend. 

His father had of course been the most painful, with the heart broken sobs of his baby sister, asking when she’d see her daddy again. It was devastating for Cato, too, who had to learn how to be an adult man in a world without games without his father to guide him. The loss had hit him harder than he dared to admit. 

At the end of what felt like the tenth funeral service they felt obligated to attend, this one of an old classmate and her younger sister, while Cato played nice with another ex-classmate Clove found herself wandering to a part of the cemetery that she had never allowed herself to cross into. 

It was sacred ground, really, treated with utmost respect. Perfect lines of simple limestone grave markers stretched in perfect lines of 25, save for the last row. No tribute came home to be buried from seventy five. The victors, they were in a separate area even still, with lavish, over the top headstones. But here, in a well maintained corner of the District Two cemetery, rest every single tribute who did not make it to victor status. 

The boy from her games did not even have solid grass on top of his grave plot yet, and the ceaseless bombing did nothing to aid in that process. The girl from Cato’s games is a little further grown over, with a thin but respectable layer of fresh grass that grows in all directions. She can remember some of the others, mildly. The boy who lost against Glimmer, the girl who Johanna took out. 

It is not her own peers, though, that interests Clove. 

She weaves through years and years of games, of either single or double headstones from every single Hunger Games, from 75 to 62, and finally to the one she had avoided the entirety of her life. 

Six feet below her feet was the remaining body of Sevina Kentwell, being the closest Clove has been to her mother in nearly eighteen years. 

It is a simple marker, like all of the others. With the name of the tribute, the date of their birth, and what place they came in their games.  Somehow, seeing first runner up, though she had known it the entirety of her life, manages to rip her heart from her chest, coating the white limestone with the spray of hot, wet blood. 

Or at least it’s how it feels. 

There is no mention of the life Sevina had prior to the games. No mention of the daughter she left behind, how she was a mother who loved deeply and to the last day of her life, how she was the daughter of a cruel woman who only became that way after the loss of her child. 

Clove does not know when exactly she ends up on her knees, kneeling before the stone that is no taller than her in this position. 

It is when she notices the little symbol on every stone– some knives, some stars, some hearts– that she realizes there is some small personalization that makes these tributes people. Children. 

Clove’s right hand reaches out, shaking just enough that she notices, as she traces her pointer finger over the etching of her mother’s name. It is then, as she reaches the I, that she realizes the dot over the initial is a clover. 

The weight of a war, of physical torture, of two Hunger Games, the destruction of her home, and a loveless, empty childhood hits her. If she were not already on her knees she would have fallen to them, as it feels like she is the one who just had the breath slammed out of her against that cornucopia. 

The death of her grandmother meant next to nothing. She had openly spoken out against Clove after her appearance in Two, proudly sharing the narrative that she was a traitor and that her daughter died because of this mistake of a child. Yes, she raised Clove and turned her into a victor with her cold demeanor and cruelty, and for that Clove had no choice but to be thankful, but still, she did not feel a great loss at the news of her death by rebels in Two. 

She thought nothing of the news that her father and his entire new family also died in the roles of loyalists. He had been dead to her long before the war. 

The entirety of her family would die with Clove. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in sixty years, but there would be no one left to remember any of them after her inevitable death. 

Maybe that was the gift she could give to the ghost of her mother– the erasure of the people who treated them so cruelly. 

That of course meant the erasure of Sevina Kentwell and Clove herself, as well. 

While Clove had spent the entirety of her life to become a victor, to carve her place in history, right now the idea of slipping into anonymity and living a mundane enough life to not be remembered didn’t sound like the worst ending in the world. 

Sevina Kentwell died nearly eighteen years ago, but somehow it hits Clove like it is the first time all over again. This feeling– the elephant on her chest, the choking, gagging sobs that she could not control, the tears that felt like burning salt on her cheeks– may as well have been from the little girl whose mother never came back for her. 

She felt an overwhelming need to speak out loud– to the air, to the universe, to whatever could hear her– that she couldn’t really explain. It felt silly, to just speak into thin air, and yet she doesn’t have it in there to stop herself. 

Clove wipes her tears on the back of her sleeves, rocking back to sit on her heels. She pushes her hair behind her ears, before she crosses her arm over her chest, tucking her hands along her hips on opposite sides of her body. 

“I’ve always kind of wondered what was so wrong with me as a baby, if I was so unlovable of a little girl that it was just..so easy to leave me. Grandma always told me thats the case…that I’ve been fucked up since I was born and that it was easy to leave a crazy little girl. That the risk of dying was better than having to spend eighteen years with me. I believed it, too.” Clove leans her head back, squeezing evergreen eyes closed and taking a deep, shaky breath to the sky, desperate for cool morning air to fill her lungs and quench the burning that ravages the back of her throat.  “I can’t remember what you look like. I’ve seen pictures but I can’t remember. I don’t remember the sound of your voice, or what it was like to be held by my mother.”

“I want to be angry and I want to blame you for everything that is just so fucked up about me, but I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t have been sent to training if you were a victor, huh?” Clove sniffles heavily, the skin of her face burning from the continued assault of tears that just cannot cease to flow. “And then I wouldn’t be a Victor..And then I never would have met Cato.” 

She isn’t quite sure she can believe it, though it is rational. If she had not needed to win the games herself, she never would have been sent to training to become a victor, and by extension would have never crossed paths with Cato. 

There is another part of herself though, the far less rational part, the part that let her fall for her training partner, that believes in any universe, in any version of reality, some way somehow, they would always find each other (though that she would never say out loud). 

“I married him, you know. I’ve never said it out loud.. I’ve never told anyone about it.” Clove whispers to the universe, words barely falling past her lips. “But I did. I guess I wasn’t so terrible and unlovable after all, or maybe I was, and he’s a little terrible and fucked up too. We’re made for each other in that way. He’s…the love of my life.”  She finds that her right hand is twisting at her left ring finger, the empty digit lacking any physical or public reminder of such love. It didn’t matter. They knew. “Enobaria took really really good care of me, too.  Like she had promised you. I don’t know if I would have survived without her. Both literally as a baby, but also in the games.” 

She exhales shakily. Her breathing is weighty and consuming, as she feels her throat tightening with the burning feeling of exhaustion. “I wish I had a mom these days, not that you’d know what a world without the games is like anyway…but it would be nice. To have a mom for the rest of my life….Whatever it looks like.”

Clove rests her body weight on her hands in front of her, steadying herself as she catches her breath and regains her composure. She raises her left hand again, branching herself on her mother’s headstone so she can push herself to a standing position. She brushes off the grass on her knees, smoothing down the skirt of her formal black dress. Digging the heels of her hand to stop the tears, she is unconcerned with the fact her makeup is certainly smeared around her eyes. Clove takes a shaking, stabilizing breath, gently reaching down to pat the top of the rock. 

“I miss my mom. I miss you, and I don’t even know you but I know that I love you.” Clove brushes her deep hair behind her shoulders, standing up straight like the victor she will forever be. She is all that is left of, and all that there will ever be, of the woman who eternally rests deep under her feet. “I owe you, quite literally, for my life. In all senses of it. So uh..thank you. For ruining your life to give me mine.” 

Clove takes one final shaky breath, craning her neck to the sky to stop the flow of tears. She wipes at her cheeks quickly, before shoving her hands in the pocket of her coat. Clove weaves back through the tribute corner, and before she even reaches the little gate she sees Cato leaning against one of the metal posts, one ankle crossed over the other, hands in the pockets of his own coat.

As soon as she’s within reach his arm is around her shoulders, using his hand to smooth down the hair at the top of her head before he kisses the crown of her hair gently and swiftly. Of course he can see the tracks of tears, the pink tint under the field of freckles, but he doesn’t comment on it. This was a private moment for her. 

“Ready to go home?” He pulls her in closer to his side, body heat warming her against the cool, rainy air. 

“I think we have one more stop to make.”

Everything you lose is a step you take

The only thing left of the academy which they met, trained, and ultimately, became themselves is a set of chipped marble stairs. The grand archway is reduced to piles of rubble, the long stretch of the building that was once home rests in various piles of rocks and decay. 

Their classmates were mostly dead, either after being forced into roles as peacekeeper soldiers or victims of various bombings. There were no more dorms that they had once snuck around, no more rooms full of knives or spears or dummies to use as target practice. There were no more closets to sneak off too or bad showers with cold water and low water pressure. 

All that was left of their childhood were the very steps they sat on now. 

Cato sits beside Clove, hand in hand. 

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives in this building.” Clove admits, brushing the hand that is not interlaced with his over the remnants of the grand staircase. “I imagined we’d be the most successful mentors, well, ever.” 

“Spend our lives in the building? I thought we’d own it. Rename it to the Kentwell-Hadley Training Academy, then we could claim every District Two victor forever. It would be like our legacy.” Cato teases, but the longing edge in his voice tells Clove that no, that is not entirely a joke.  He clears his throat, shifting so his chin was sitting on top of the crown of her head instead. “Do you ever think about the day we met?”

“Yeah, you broke my collarbone.” Clove smirks, craning her neck so she can look him in the eyes. They would never be back in the place they met, in the place she realized she loved this arrogant, temperamental boy. This, right here, was as close as it would get. “I thought we were going to hate each other forever…that we’d go out killing each other in the most violent, showy way we could. 

“And you stabbed me!” Cato indignantly nudges her with his shoulder, but brings his other hand up to cradle her face in his. I never thought, in a million years, we’d be lucky enough to be right here, Clove.”

“Alive?” Clove teases, but takes the opportunity to lean in and press her forehead to his. “On the rubble of the academy?” As much as she teases, she knows what he means. He means hand in hand, far from the enemies they were the day they met. He means the love they share.

“Together. I never thought we’d get to be together.” Cato admits, leaning in somehow closer still, so that their noses also could touch. “All this shit Clove, and the only constant in my entire life, from the time we were actual children, has been you. It has always been you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.” She promises, wrapping her arm around his neck so that she can pull her upper body flush to his as she finally finally finally connects her lips with his. Clove melts in his arms as he fully wraps his arms around her and holds her as close as he humanly can to him. When she pulls back, resting her nose against his once again, she laughs. “What do we do now with the rest of our lives?”

“I could say each other–” Cato taunts, but laughs as he gives the slightest shrug before she can refute him. “I don’t really know. We’ll figure it out, like we always do.”

“Together?” Clove teases, leaning back so she can fully lock eyes, green with blue, as a coy little smile creeps onto her face. “I love you. More than I loved the games.”

“Aren’t I special.” Cato soaks her in. Wet dark curls framing her face, freckles like constellations across her nose.  If he got to see this for the rest of his life.. He’d die happy. Hopefully not for many many many years, but happy nonetheless.“I love you too. More than anything.”

“You just have to one up me..” Clove rolls her eyes playfully, but she does not actually move from her place in his arms. “You know, if you want to actually get married again, you do have to ask again.”

“Are you going to say yes?” He pinches her hip playfully, causing her to squirm in his arms which he uses as the opportunity to grab her even tighter. 

“Depends on the day.” She warns, but grabs his face in both her hands immediately after. She can see it all in his eyes. The nine year olds they once were, the twenty one year olds they are now. Their entire past lies crumbled beneath them, but with her arms around his shoulders and his around her hips the entirety of their future rests in their arms. 

All the uncertainty of this new world, it didn’t matter. The future, whatever it would be, would be okay.  Whatever their future held, would be just fine, so long as it held them. 

Cato and Clove.

“Always and forever, Cato. It’s you and me, always and forever.”

I had the time of my life with you. 

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #clato #cato and clove #clato fanfic #clove #clove kentwell #thg #the hunger games fanfiction #cato and clove fanfic #marvel and glimmer #marvel thg #glimmer thg #cato hadley #clove thg #cato thg #clato thg #clato tag #clato fanfiction #hunger games fic

[catoscloves]

let me put on a show for you by catoscloves/enobarias (on ao3) thg | clato | 2.6k | canon, 74th hunger games

summary: cato promises to let clove have his kill, under certain conditions. (a missing scene between cato and clove, before the feast.)

excerpt: "cato, if you would just let me have this kill," clove insists as cato leans back against a tree, uncharacteristically relaxed. she's grown accustomed to the way her partner (and, though she'd truly rather lose the games than admit it, her friend) stampedes around the arena, and the fact that he's not stalking back and forth like a manic jungle cat as he usually does unnerves her. "i am more than capable-"

he cuts her off with an immediate protest.

"absolutely not." the definitive tone of his statement is punctuated by a practice thrust of his spear into the open air, seemingly more to have something to do with his inactive hands than actual preparation, and clove hugs herself tightly so she doesn't lose focus and fixate on the way his arm muscles contract with his movement. "the girl is the reason we could lose everything. she's mine."

clove won't ask what he means by lose everything, but she has a startling sense that he means far more than just the coveted victor spot in these games.

#my first fanfic writing in a long time!! two years to be exact #it's a small oneshot with less than 3k and somehow took me two weeks to write akdjfhhkddkfj #anyways this is set in canon and inspired by the ''cato promised to let me have you if i put on a good show'' dialogue #because that was such a good clato crumb!! #no clato deaths in this one because i'm tired of tragedy and angst where these characters are concerned #just a character study :) #the hunger games #thg #thg fanfiction #clato fanfiction #clato #cato x clove #clove x cato #cato #clove #minefic

[tobns]

all the lights went down in hollywood

from the writer’s desk: so, just right off the bat, for the full ~experience~ i recommend you read on ao3, as this is a multimedia fic and everything is formatted for that platform. but i know tumblr fics are slowly becoming a thing again, that’s where i came from and it’s who i’ll always be + i had some people asking, so here you guys go! disclaimer that there is adult material in this fic, so read at your own discretion. happy reading :’)

CHAPTER ONE: FEEL SO UNSTABLE, FUCKING HATE MY LABEL

"Gale is officially not coming back."

Clove wishes she could say this comes as a surprise, but it does not. If anything, it is a dull ringing in her ears, like someone's phone is bleating and they're just pretending to ignore it. The noise is akin to a nail-grating whine that digs underneath her skin.

Except the phone has been ringing for four weeks, and she is ready to rip her flesh off her body.

The suit sitting on the opposite side of the board table plows ahead, adjusting the lapels of his jacket as he speaks. "His team has finalized the paperwork, and as of tomorrow, March 13th, for all legal purposes, he will no longer be attached to The SeventyFourth."

Beside her, Glimmer rolls her eyes. "So why the hell did someone post the Twelve cover this morning to our Instagram?"

"Roxanne is contractually obligated to post to the band's Instagram at minimum once per month."

"Well why couldn't Foxy post that picture of Gale's bare ass? It's the least he deserves after he ditched us."

Across the table, the suit lowers his wire-rimmed glasses. "Ms. Dillon, Mr. Hawthorne provided you all with a formal resignation letter upon his entry into rehab. I'd hardly call that ditching."

Glimmer falls silent.

A formal resignation letter is pushing the envelope considerably. Emmett's still of the belief that Gale doesn't know how to form more than two complete sentences.

Really, they'd forced his hand. They couldn't keep pushing back tour rehearsals to accommodate for his broken heart. At some point, something had to give, and Clove would go to her grave with the truth if anyone decided to ask questions about her call history.

"You're drunk," Foxy warns as Clove starts fumbling with her phone, trying to get the face identification to do its singular job and recognize her as the owner. Apparently, when she's drunk, Apple tells too much of a difference between freckles and specks of glitter and deems her as another person entirely.

"Yeah, no shit."

Foxy's fingers start trying to pry the phone gently from Clove's grip, but Clove immediately swats her hand away, all but clocking her in the face with the point of her elbow as she wrestles herself out of Foxy's proximity. "Stop it," she spits venomously. "If no one else in this fuckin' group is gonna tell him the truth, then I will."

"Clove..."

Clove's face draws up into a tight line. "Foxy," she mimics. "It's bullshit."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but—"

"But what?" Clove snaps. Her face falls, come on scrolling in her irises as she glares at her publicist. "Rox, this is shit and you know it. Katniss didn't do anything to him, he's a pussy who can't accept that he has always been and never will be anywhere but her friend zone. And now he's making the band suffer because he's suddenly twelve?" She huffs. "We named the album after the number of songs, not how old our fuckin' guitarist acts."

Foxy is silent, lips pressing together in an attempt to suppress the riot act she's dying to read Clove, but knows that ultimately, she cannot. As long as it doesn't grace the top searches of Google, it's out of her hands. Clove's always been a fish in her hands, slipping and darting from her grasp. Every time she thinks she's got Clove, there's a narrow escape back into the pond.

Clove manages to unlock her phone and gets into her contacts, finding Gale's name and violently pressing the call button. Every drone of the phone ringing only heightens her blood pressure.

"What the fuck do you want, Clove?" Gale answers on the third ring, his words slurred together. "'M not hashing this out with you."

"Oh, the hell you are," Clove snarls into the receiver. Beside her, Foxy is now physically biting down on her fist. "You're going to stop acting like a little bitch, you're going to pull your head out of your ass and you're going to be at rehearsal tomorrow. We are not waiting around on you to get over yourself."

"Fuck you," he groans.

"Know who else I fucked? Kat." The silence on the other end is so profound, she wonders if he hung up on her, but she knows she's got him by the throat. She almost wishes he could see the smug grin that so effortlessly drapes over her lips. "While you were whining after every show about whether or not she'd ever give you the time of day, I was with her in all those hotel rooms—"

"Shut up—"

"—and tour bunks, between her legs, making her say my name—"

"God, you are an insufferable cunt—"

"—and guess what? She didn't think about you once! Not one mention of you, ever!" Clove sneers into the receiver, a low laugh rumbling from her chest. "C'mon, Hawthorne, you didn't seriously think she and I wrote honey because we'd caught a marathon of the fuckin' L Word one night and thought it'd be a cute idea for a song."

There's more silence on Gale's end, so Clove takes that as her invitation to keep prattling on. "So if you're gonna be mad at anyone in the band, don't you dare be mad at Katniss for going out on dates with someone that is perfectly kind and normal and sane like she's got every right to. Be mad at the person who was fucking her behind your back for eight months knowing full well how you felt about her. I didn't give a shit about bro code, I don't regret it, and I'd fucking do it again."

"I can't believe you."

"Believe it." Clove switches hands, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting the receiver directly up to her mouth. "You better fucking be at rehearsal tomorrow morning, or you are out." Gale doesn't have an opportunity to protest; she forcefully ends the call and then throws the phone haphazardly over her shoulder. She hears the soft bounce it makes when it lands somewhere on the couch behind her.

Clove bends down, reaching for the shot glass she'd discarded and tossing it back. Foxy just stares at her with wide eyes, wordless. "What?" Clove asks calmly as the tequila carves a neat path down her throat. "I'm expediting the process."

"Yeah," is Foxy's hollow intonation, unsure of what the fuck to say. It's a good thing she said enough for the both of them, then.

Gale was never the favorite in the band. Once upon a time, he'd been tolerable. Those were the days when Madge was on keys, of few but meaningful words and they were opening for nobodies, when it didn't matter the way it does now. And then she left, and Emmett recommended they give one of his sister's friends a listen to see if she'd be a good fit. Katniss was, of course, and everyone loved her. Gale loved her the most, in a way that he was stuffing napalm into all of their cracks that he all but promised to come back and ignite later.

Clove knows she probably put more than just a toe or her neck out, telling Gale the truth, but it was just that: the truth. He never bothered to do anything about his insufferable crush on her, and that was far from Clove's problem. It became her problem when he dialed the dramatics up to an eleven and let the band get in the crosshairs. Twelve was their most successful record to date, got them nominated for three Grammys, and the Twelve tour sold out in minutes.

So, yes, it very much mattered when Gale started saying he couldn't be in the same room as Katniss and pushed tour rehearsals back. And then it really was her problem when he broke his hand after punching a wall, a direct result of their phone conversation, and pretended to go to rehab just so he could punish her by making everything screech to a grinding halt.

She really, really hated him.

"Furthermore—" Clove's never heard anyone use the word furthermore in a conversation that was not scripted by Shakespeare — "Within the terms of his release, Mr. Hawthorne would not be officially released from his contract within the band until a suitable replacement was lined up with the approval of the label."

"Yeah, what about the band's approval?" Marvel says, the steady rap of his fingers against the wooden table never faltering. "Imagine the label's still mad at me for that time I wrecked that golf cart—"

"—they probably are," Katniss chimes in.

"—and they give us someone worse than Gale as a dose of our medicine." He glances around the table at the rest of them, looking for support. "I mean, it's more than just a business arrangement. This is somebody we have to live with, in cramped conditions, for the next seven months. Do you want one of us to become a serial killer?"

"Mr. Dillon," the suit says in a disapproving tone, lowering the wire-rimmed glasses on his nose to glare. Marvel winces, slouching back into his seat; underneath the table, Glimmer has stomped on his foot as hard as she can manage, arms now folded across her chest and a triumphant smirk on her lips that she does her best to water down for appearance's sake. "Considering your own contract and moral clauses, I highly doubt that will be an issue."

"So, what are you saying?" Glimmer asks. "We don't get to pick our new guitarist?"

"It's not just a guitarist, from my understanding. If I'm correct, Mr. Hawthorne also did male lead vocals for the group's latest record."

"That's something Marv or Thresh can do." Clove sits up a little taller in her chair, finding herself nodding along with Katniss's suggestion.

The suit, on the other hand, is skeptical of this. "That may well be true, Ms. Everdeen, but it's of the label's perspective that Mr. Hawthorne's replacement should be able to replace him entirely."

Clove sighs. This is veering on the borderline of asinine and aggravating, and she's got shit to do. Namely, get her band in rehearsal, now that they are apparently back on track. "Okay," she interjects, lifting one of her hands. "So Gale's out, and now we've got to wait on the label to find someone to replace him, and we'll probably figure out who it is once Rox's contract obligates her to post it on the band Instagram. Is tour officially on?"

Suit clears his throat. "Tour is on, yes." He begins ruffling through the stack of papers he has spread out around him. "According to Mr. Abernathy and Ms. Trinket, replacement dates with the venues are in the process of being finalized. The European shows are, I believe, the only ones still up in the air. My understanding is that you will play Amsterdam instead of Po—"

"Okay then," Clove deduces with the clap of her hands. "So when do we start rehearsals? Is the plan still to open in Glendale?"

"Yes, but..."

"And do we have to actually wait for the label to tell us who's joining, or are we allowed to make recommendations and audition people we like?"

"I like that," Marvel nods fervently. "At least gives us some say in the matter."

"And that's how we found Katniss," Glimmer adds, thumb jambing in the direction of their now slightly blushing keyboardist. "She was a perfect fit."

Emmett shrugs. "Told y'all I had good taste."

"That you did, Threshie."

The suit looks visibly uncomfortable where he sits, Clove's sharp eye narrowing in on his body language. It takes only a second to conclude why he's behaving as though his tie is choking him. "We're not going to get to audition anyone, are we?"

Marvel's neck nearly breaks. "What? Why?"

Clove's eyebrows shift upward, and Suit opens his mouth. "Per the terms of his release from his contract, Mr. Hawthorne would not be able to officially leave the band until a replacement was lined up. It's my understanding that we are meeting today because the label signed a new lead guitarist to The SeventyFourth last night, and the paperwork for Mr. Hawthorne's departure was processed and finalized early this morning."

The dull ringing is back in her ears, but this time, everything around her sounds as though it has been plunged into water.

Quite a bit of her disdain for Gale stemmed back to the way that he made Katniss feel (read: like shit, and Clove hated to see her down), but the reason Clove could not stand him, even for the sake of professionalism, was the lack of control she was able to exercise regarding his mere presence. She's always in control, even when others think she's not.

It's why the rest of them throw the baton her way when it comes to leading the charge — and the band — without a complaint. It's because she gets shit done. She doesn't mind making hard decisions that must be made, starting difficult discussions that need to be had. Everyone in The SeventyFourth has always had a fair say, but typically it all boils down to Clove.

She's been doing this twice as long as the rest of them. She's seen shit, and while it doesn't make her better than any of them (she will never be able to play piano like Katniss, or make even the stoniest person crack a laugh like Marvel, or be half the woman Glimmer is or have the rationale Thresh has in any given moment) it incentivizes her to make sure The SeventyFourth is the best it can possibly be. And Gale was the weed that no matter how she tried to rearrange or disguise she simply could not prune. Gale was a force outside of the things she could control. She'd certainly thought about it, but there was no way to physically make him show up for rehearsals. There was no way to quell his broodiness. There was no legal way to be rid of him unless he did it on his own terms.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than having the tour continue to be delayed is hearing that they have already found his replacement, and Clove's got no fucking clue who they could've picked to invade her family.

Slowly, the conversation around her pokes and prods at her bubble.

"I'm calling Haymitch," is the first thing Clove hears clearly, Katniss spinning the chair around so her back is to Suit with her phone already out, unlocked, and mid-dial.

"That's not necessary, Ms. Everdeen, but if you'd like."

Marvel is halfway across the table with how far he is hunched over. "Why weren't we privy to that information? We should have at least been told that the label would be out looking for people; I mean, for fuck's sake, we've all been doing nothing for five weeks. We could've been looking on our own for someone to take his place."

Suit seems to be sweating, even if he's doing a damn fine job with his poker face. "These were terms mentioned in the contract when The SeventyFourth signed with Rose Garden."

"Are you telling me that I don't know how to read?"

"I'm saying that this should not come as a surprise had you read your contracts."

"Those are like the goddamn terms of service," Marvel grumbles. "Nobody reads them!"

"Marvel, shut up," Glimmer says in lieu of smashing his foot underneath her Louboutins for the second time. "You're making it sound like we're stupid."

"Well, we might as well be."

"How far are you from the Garden?" Katniss is saying into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver so Haymitch can hear her. "Did you know that they were finding someone to replace Gale?"

"When do we get to meet them?" Thresh asks, perhaps the calmest of them all. It's why he is the threshold for all of their bullshit: nothing rattles him. "Since they're officially part of the band, we shouldn't be left in the dark. If tour's back on, we need to get into rehearsals."

"I'm glad you asked." The voice does not belong to the suit, but rather a sandy haired man that has burst through the conference room doors with a phone still tucked against his cheek, broad smile across his face. He winks at Katniss, who is staring back at him with her mouth agape. "We wanted to make sure you all were in the same room first," he says, hanging up the call. "And here you all are."

Haymitch.

"What the fuck, Haymitch," are the first words out of Marvel's mouth. "You couldn't have told us?"

Both of Haymitch's hands lift in mock arrest. "Wasn't allowed to." The look he gives Marvel is utterly patronizing. "Can't read the contracts for you, I can only tell you to read 'em carefully." Marvel's eye is now twitching.

"Okay, so who is it?" Clove snaps, already nauseous with the back and forth and stalling. "Who's our new guitarist?"

If it were possible for Haymitch's smile to grow, the upward curve of his lips would be carved in his skin. "So glad you asked." He turns slightly, arms gestured out to the side. "May I introduce — or, for some, reintroduce to you..."

Clove's vision goes red, and she vaguely feels as though she might be sick.

"SeventyFourth's newest guitarist and male lead, Cato Hadley."

#clato #hunger games fanfiction #thg fanfiction #clato fanfiction #hunger games #thg #the hunger games #clove #cato #glimmer #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #foxface #thresh #haymitch abernathy #we r not gale fans here sorry :/ #annie cresta #cloveniss #everlark #fanfic #fanfiction #all the lights went down in hollywood #chapter title from charli xcx's gone #AHHHHHHH WE BACK Y'ALL #not that i ever left but ykwim

[lwveless]

i need to smoke a bowl and take two xanax before reading a chapter of arwbfb thank you @clatoera for fighting the war on drugs on the side of drugs

#the last three chapters or so have come at Such a chaotic time in my life #im fundamentally changing as a person i haven't stalked anyone in a week like who am i #i love you arwbfb you're my parasocial best friend #youre just a fanfic and im just a lonely little guy ngl #but we're best friends #girl fuck reviews im doing a blunt rotation with glimmer and marvel right now and one of them called cato a slur as a joke #can that person reclaim that slur? depends on who's scissoring who in the next chapter god speed #cato is soooo dramatic about clove like boy stfu also i need him&someone to care about me like that ♡ #need A.L. PERIODDD i can't believe he would cheat on me and have a child despite never interacting with me outside of blocking me on IG #catowill do don't you worry<3 #love you cato #love you arwbrb

[mellarkdandelion]

One Thing - a Clove Kentwell Story

Clove sits by the water, her feet barely touching the gentle stream passing by. Two daisies dangle from her fingers as she quickly weaves them together, the sweet sap dampening her hands. This peace isn’t a rarity for Clove; despite the rigorous training and constant exposure to battle, she still finds time for this—time for something that was always instilled in her as a child.

“Clover, if you don’t take a moment each day to breathe—to feel the earth and its many elements move all around you—the raging war inside your heart will never cease,” her grandmother always said. As a child she didn’t understand—for no corruption or vacillation was coursing through her being yet—but as she grew older and the ways of the district were forced onto her, meaning took hold.

So Clove sits in her little spot in the wilds behind the Academy, her deepening breaths dragging in the freshness and greenery of the air around her. Without noticing, she’s finished another daisy chain—once again something her grandmother taught her. Clove sets it down beside her dejectedly.

Why am I doing this? she thinks, looking down at her hands. Little white scars mark her pale and freckled skin. The searing pain of her slicing knives comes back each time she touches the defacements. She gingerly picks up her pile of flower chains. The delicate work seems as if it can only come from hands of the same beautiful nature, yet her mauled-and-mauling hands are the infinite source.

“You’re named after an unopened flower bud. Many think this means you’ll be stunted in life—but, my dear Clover, this only shows the untapped potential within you. You’re not just one thing,” her grandmother said.

You’re not just one thing. This message radiates through her thoughts. Every day she’s told what a good tribute she’ll make and how her ruthlessness in combat is her biggest and only strength—yet here she sits, able to create rather than destroy.

Clove places a dandelion crown on her head, then throws the rest of her creations into the stream. She watches the petals float away, off to who-knows-where. Her dark hair tangles with the stems of the weeds, but she doesn’t care. Clove soaks in the serenity, then follows her desire trail back to the Academy—ready to be more than a botanist and more than a weapon.

#the hunger games #thg #catching fire #mockingjay #clove moodboard #clove thg #clove the hunger games #clove x cato #clove #clove kentwell #mini story #fanfic #the hunger games fic #the hunger games fanfiction #clove headcanons #thg headcanon

[fangirlwormhole]

I've reading/writing fanfic for nearly a decade now and I was wondering what was the first Fandom you guys wrote a fanfic for and what ship?

#mine was for the Hunger Games #it was a clove/cato fanfic #fanfic #fandom #writing