They descend in the elevator. Nie Mingjue stands at Meng Yao’s shoulder, vibrating with arousal and undirected rage, and it’s uncomfortable and a little terrifying, but the way he’s standing between Meng Yao and the Wens is protective and Meng Yao is grateful for it, the sick anxious gratitude of a dog who knows he is about to bite the hand giving him a charitable pat. The elevator descends beneath the garage level, and when the doors open they’re hit with a draft of air that smells of damp and mildew, though the bare walls around them look recently whitewashed. Fluorescent light strips and the gestures of the guards direct them down a corridor to a platform where most of the other competitors already wait. It’s a train platform, Meng Yao realizes after a moment, and then he realizes the train is already there and the others are getting on.
Love me like you do-Clato week song
𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝
Clove Kentwell walked in stiff steps to her room on the train, not knowing at all why this boy, Cato Hadley, affected her so much. She usually didn’t let any of her emotions show, but it was like an invisible force was pulling them out of her, one by one, baring all her secrets for the world to see. When she got to her room she went straight to the bathroom, determined to wash all the emotions off her face and resume her usual facade of a completely neutral, pissed off expression.
𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡
But getting the blonde off her mind was an impossible task. Her mind wondered, and she found herself thinking about all the times they had touched, little, teasing touches like arm caresses when they were putting away equipment at the training centre, or their fingers brushing at dinner. She didn’t know if he had meant it, it could have easily been accidental, but she didn’t know. They happened very frequently, even more know they were on the same train.
𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡
Clove was terrified of falling in love. She hated the idea of baring her soul to someone, all her dark secrets, her past, not her own but shared with another. She wasn’t an open book. But she was thinking she may not be able to help this one. It was like they had a magnetic pull to one another, so strong even she couldn’t resist. Or she didn’t want to. He made her feel, dammit, he made her shine, he brought out the worst in her. And for Clove that was perfect.
𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞
She was contemplating going back to the dining room she she had left, claiming her hunger had been sated by the extravagant food they had been given earlier in the day. Capital food. This wasn’t a complete lie, but she also didnt want to sit around the table looking at Cato, her mentor for the 73rd games, her games. She ruled that idea out as another, mortifying but thrilling idea came to mind. What if she went to his room a bit later? He was sure to have finished dinner by then. She looked in the mirror and saw, to her disgust that she was blushing. What was he doing to her?
𝐒𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫?
Clove walked out of the room, her mind not fully made up but satisfied enough. Her feet padded quietly on the lush red carpet as she walked down the hall to the dining room. Disappointment and yet unexplainable relief flooded through her when she entered and saw that Cato had left. He must have thought her abominable rude, leaving suddenly like that. She shook herself angrily. Who was she? Clove never cared about what people thought. Why him? But she knew why. He made her feel alive, he balanced her out. They were so similar, and she cared about him. The realization made Clove go rigid. This was dangerous, caring. But she was already in the middle, with no escape.
𝐅𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧, 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞
Cato paced around his room, occasionally banging his head on the side of the wall. What was wrong with him? Her. Clove Kentwell, the one he’s mentoring. It would surely get them into deep trouble if Cato told Clove how he felt about her, and the last thing he wanted was to get in trouble with the law. But she was just too damn delectable. Usually Cato went for girls just for a one-night stand, not really caring what they were like, but when he met her he immediately knew Clove Kentwell was different. She made him feel, brought him out of the numb whole her been in ever since he won the 72nd games. She was deadly and dangerous, and her personality was just too fucking perfect. He liked her, maybe even more. She was too fucking perfect.
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞
Cato let his imagination wander, imagining what it’d be like to touch her, kiss her, feel her. He would worship her until they were both drenched in sweat, lying in each other’s arms. Cato shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? He had suddenly gone all sappy. Part of him wanted to barge into her room right now, grab her and kiss her senseless, whispering all the sweet-nothings he knew in her ear, wanting her to know how much she meant to him. They had known each other for years, but never really talked until now. And he loved talking to her.
𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫?
Cato was nervous for probably the first time in his life. He had always been confident, always showing off, his arrogance seeping through his clothes and covering every pore on his face. Nervous was not a word in his vocabulary. Until tonight, that is. He wanted to go to her room. He needed to see her. Suddenly he was scared shitless about her going into the arena. He knew she was good, she was probably the best of all the tributes. He’d seen her train for years, seen the way she threw knives, the way they slammed into the targets, always on that red dot in the middle. She could easily win, but part of his brain screamed at him. What if she didn’t? What if there was someone stronger, someone that killed her. He imagined her in a pool of blood, could almost hear the ringing of the cannon in his ears, and that’s when he made up his mind. Their rooms were across from each other, and, with a sharp breath, he pulled the door open.
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫?
Clove barely had time to register that he was in her room before he walked over to her and firmly placed his lips on hers. It didn’t take long before she was kissing him back with equal fever, trying to transfer all of her emotions into the kiss. She was gratified when he groaned against her mouth. She nipped, licked and sucked, taking in all his groans and trembling sighs.
Cato had no fucking idea where she learned to kiss like that, but she was a natural. She was a natural at other things too, and believe me, he wasn’t complaining. He just hated to think of someone else touching her, doing all the things he was doing to her, someone else making her moan and squirm beneath them.
That night they lay in bed, his arm draped over her tiny frame. They weren’t talking, they didn’t need to. She had told him she was a virgin before tonight, but that she was happy that she lost her v-card to him. Neither of them was any good at emotions, preferring to let their bodies do the talking. But he didn’t miss his chance to whisper all those sweet-nothings into her waiting ear and seeing her smile and blush in response. He wanted her to go into that arena with something to fight for, something to convince her to come home no matter what it took.
Peeta gets down on one knee, pours out his heart, and begs me to marry him. I, of course, accept.
WATCH OUT FOR PART 2
Jin Zixun is still training with the silver sword, his movements fluid, graceful. Meng Yao watches him for a bit, wondering if it would be a good idea to approach. There would be more comments about Meng Yao’s mother, that’s almost for certain, but perhaps after Jin Zixun satisfied himself he’d be willing to hear out Meng Yao’s offer. After Meng Yao had accepted the abuse and proved no threat to Jin Zixun’s ego.
He wonders if his father will forgive him, if he kills his nephew.
Me writing the hunger games au: god it always annoys me when there’s one designated Bad Kid who gets assigned to do all the shitty villainous bully stuff, more complexity is always more interesting, I’m going to do better in my story
Me: *uses Jin Zixun every single time I need someone to get bullied, because I’m lazy and writing is hard*
‘It’s such a beautiful night, isn’t it?’
Clove Kentwell stood, mesmerized, at the beautiful view before her. She had never stopped to appreciate, all the time she lived in two, the wonderful mystery of nature. Now the war was over, Cato was determined to change that. They had terrible nights, ones full of nightmares and holding each other while they cried, ones full of flashbacks and sleepless nights. But Clove needed to keep fighting. She had lots of experience with that. She had to be strong.
Cato didn’t respond, just pulled her closer. They were standing and he had his arms tightly around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. He still couldn’t believe they were together, alive. When he had seen Thresh attack her in the quell, heard the crunching as the rock hit her skull, held her as the life drained from her face and then finally lay with her in her hospital bed in 13. He had never appreciated life before, was just 'brutal, bloody Cato’, but looking at the love of his life before him reminded him of all the good in living. It was them against the world, and at this moment, it was just them.
Neither of them knew how they had ended up in this position. Clove was asleep on top of Cato. He marvelled at how light she was. He held no discomfort in having her laying fully on top of him, her head on his chest. In fact, as he watched her face, so peaceful in sleep, he felt the complete opposite. They were laying on the grass, the summer air flowing through their hair. Cato wrapped his arms around her as she slept on, and finally allowed himself to close his own eyes, the feeling of peace laying before him.
Peeta: Why is there blood all over the place?!
Clove: I may have aggressively poked someone with a knife
Peeta: You stabbed someone?!
Clove: No, no. Aggressively poked
Effie: where’s Haymitch?
Peeta: doing stuff
Effie: I don’t like the sound of that. Where’s Katniss?
Peeta: trying to stop Haymitch from doing the stuff
Effie: and Chaff?
Peeta: trying to stop Katniss from stopping Haymitch from doing the stuff
Effie: I see. And what are you doing here, Peeta?
Peeta: I’m supposed to stop you from stopping Chaff to stopping Katniss from stopping Haymitch from doing the stuff
Daisy Johnson - Katniss Everdeen 🖤
For dear Anon 🖤
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29
TW: Major Character Death (Don’t worry, they deserve it.)
*It was the day of the execution and Natasha was sharpening a kunai. She wanted to kill Snow in the same way he enjoyed watching her kill all for those kids. Bruce walked into the room while eating a cinnamon bun.*
Bruce: Good morning, Nat. How are you today?
Natasha: Angry. And ready to go home.
Bruce: *kisses the top of her head* We can go home in a week, once the election is over. Then we can have normal lives with our normal daughter in a new age. I promise.
Natasha: Our lives are never going to be normal.
Bruce: Yeah, I know. But I have you, so that’s good enough for me. And Victoria, we can’t forget her.
Natasha: She’s never going to live in a world with the Hunger Games. We did it. This is what we fought for. We won!
Only in a THG AU would I squeeze in twelve year old Cato for the reaping scene.
FULL NAME — maisie hayes.
FACE CLAIM — sasha pieterse.
LABEL — the demure ― characterized by shyness and modesty; reserved.
POSITIVE TRAIT — calm demeanor.
FATAL FLAW — inexperienced.
TOKEN — a simple leather bracelet branded with her last name on it.
WEAPON — knives.
DID THEY VOLUNTEER? IF SO, WHY? — no.
Idk what I’m even writing… it’s a fic with two aus within one storyline. it’s not a reincarnation thing. And the characters and their personalities are same. I get there is a parallelism but what do you even call this 😶
So I know I did this but I kind of wanted to borrow @jackironsides method of talking about my WIPs for this meme so I’m going to expand (also there are some more ideas here!).also please feel free to talk about yours and tag me because I love to see them. Also you can ask me questions about any of these (please do)
No these are really cool things to know! (I’ve read The Hunger Games books, though not Ballad Of Songbird and Snakes but my Witcher knowledge is purely TV show) I am delighted by it - thank you <3333.
I’ve written about Jaskiers games and he absolutely did, I think and it was heartbreaking.