Saving His Damsel~

there’s not enough of felix in his murder attire on this site so here i am to deliver

So I get all of them then

A little gift

Every day I wake up and I’m not a vampire in the Volturi castle in Volterra, Italy-

What Bella actually saw when waking up with Edward in her room.

(I can confirm I was the book on her dresser)

Chapter 5: The 72nd Hunger Games

Cato Hadley x reader

Warnings: sparing, weapons, blood, kills, violence, fear, dictatorship, it’s the Hunger Games lol

Word count: 2,989

Masterlist

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Cato's pov

Cato sat at the long dining table in the Capitol apartment, a heavy silence in the air. Before him was a breakfast fit for a king: steaming eggs, crispy bacon, fresh bread with creamy butter, and exotic fruits he had never seen in District 2. He picked at his food, his appetite dulled by the weight of the morning. Across from him, Clove was eating mechanically, her expression blank, but her fingers were clenched tightly around her fork. Brutus and Enobaria sat at either end of the table, watching them with unreadable expressions.

“Eat up,” Brutus said finally, breaking the silence. “You’ll need the energy.”

Cato forced himself to eat, knowing he would regret it if he didn’t. The food tasted like nothing. All he could think about was what was to come. The blood, the fight, the survival.

After breakfast, they were escorted down to the launch area. The hallways of the Capitol building were eerily quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. When they reached the transport bay, a sleek, white hovercraft was waiting. A Peacekeeper checked their identifications and motioned for them to board.

Inside, the hovercraft was cold and sterile. Cato took a seat, Clove beside him. Across from them sat the District 1 tributes, Lucian and Selene, both looking as focused as he felt. No one spoke.

A woman in a white uniform approached, holding a small silver device. Without a word, she grabbed Cato’s arm and injected the tracker just beneath his skin. He barely flinched, only watching as she moved to Clove next. The Capitol always wanted to know where their tributes were. Always watching, always in control.

The hovercraft continued its journey in silence. Cato tried to push all thoughts out of his mind, but a pair of piercing eyes haunted him. Y/N. Was she watching? What was she thinking? He shook the thought away. There was no room for distractions now.

After what felt like an eternity, the hovercraft landed. They were led through a series of underground hallways, eventually being split up into individual preparation rooms. The walls were stark white, the only thing in the room being a chair and a large glass tube in the center. His stylist appeared shortly after, giving him a quick once-over before nodding in approval. There was no need for any touch-ups; the Capitol had already ensured he was in peak condition.

“Good luck,” the stylist said simply before stepping out.

Cato stepped into the tube, heart pounding. The glass slid shut around him, and suddenly, he was rising. The platform beneath his feet hummed, and he gritted his teeth as light flooded his vision.

When the world came into focus, the first thing he noticed was the rain. Heavy, torrential rain. Water pounded against his skin, soaking through his clothes instantly.

Then he looked around.

The arena was vast, stretching as far as he could see. It was designed to resemble a ruined city, overgrown with thick vines and vegetation. Crumbling buildings stood at odd angles, some barely intact, others completely collapsed. The ground was slick with mud and water, the streets filled with deep puddles.

But in the center of it all, standing tall and imposing, was the Cornucopia.

His pulse quickened as he scanned the golden structure. Weapons. Food. Supplies. He could already see the glint of blades, the handles of swords sticking out like a beacon.

Perfect.

He glanced at the other tributes, all standing on their platforms, drenched and waiting. Clove was to his left, her eyes locked on the Cornucopia with the same hunger he felt. To his right was Lucian, jaw clenched, body tense. Across the clearing, the weaker tributes were already shifting on their platforms, nervous, uncertain.

The countdown began.

Sixty seconds.

His muscles coiled, ready. His mind went blank, focusing only on the strategy he had been trained for his entire life. Get to the Cornucopia. Get a weapon. Kill anyone in his way.

Thirty seconds.

The rain blurred his vision slightly, but he didn’t care. He had fought in worse conditions before.

Fifteen seconds.

The sound of blood rushing in his ears was the only thing he could hear now.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The horn sounded.

And Cato ran.

Y/N’s pov

The moment the countdown hit zero, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The screen in front of her flashed as the tributes launched into action. Cato was the fastest. He moved like a predator released from a cage, his powerful legs propelling him across the wet ground. Rain poured down in thick sheets, making the ruined city arena look even more unforgiving. But Cato was undeterred. He reached the Cornucopia first, his hands gripping the hilt of a massive sword the moment he got there.

Lucian from District 1 was next, just a step behind, followed closely by Clove and Selene. The four of them wasted no time. While the weaker tributes hesitated or ran, they armed themselves and began their ruthless work. The Careers had trained for this their entire lives, and now, the bloodbath began.

Y/N felt her stomach turn as Lucian swung a battle axe, embedding it deep into the chest of the male tribute from District 7. The boy barely had time to scream before crumpling to the ground, blood pooling beneath him, mixing with the rain and mud. Selene, the District 1 girl, had a spear in her hands, and with perfect aim, she hurled it at the female tribute from District 5. The spear struck true, piercing through her stomach. The girl gasped, a horrified look on her face before she collapsed, unmoving.

Clove moved like a shadow, her knives flashing as she attacked. The female tribute from District 9 tried to run past her, but Clove was too quick. One blade to the throat and the girl went down instantly. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding. She had known Clove was lethal, but seeing her best friend kill someone so effortlessly sent a wave of sickness through her.

But nothing compared to watching Cato.

He was a force of destruction. A hurricane of power and skill. The male tribute from District 3 had made the mistake of grabbing a weapon, thinking he could fight. Cato didn’t hesitate. He brought his sword down in a brutal, swift arc, slicing through the boy’s chest. Blood sprayed, mixing with the rain, and the tribute crumpled, lifeless.

More tributes tried to flee. The girl from District 4 sprinted away, but Lucian was faster. He tackled her to the ground, pinning her before slitting her throat with a dagger. Selene cut down the female tribute from District 11, her blade quick and merciless.

Y/N wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Every time she tried, her gaze was drawn back to Cato. His sword swung again, and another body fell. The girl from District 9, a desperate look on her face, tried to make it to the treeline, but Clove threw a knife that struck her in the back. She hit the ground face-first, unmoving.

Y/N's hands clenched into fists in her lap. She had known this would happen. Had known what Cato and Clove were capable of. But seeing it—watching them kill so easily—made her chest tighten painfully. She had trained for this, had sparred with them both, but there was a difference between training and reality. Between friendly matches and life-or-death battles.

Her mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Y/N couldn’t react. She was frozen, watching the chaos unfold. The Cornucopia had become a graveyard, bodies scattered across the wet ground, rain washing away the fresh blood.

Only a handful of tributes had made it out alive. The tributes from 12, 10, 8, and 6 had all fled, along with a few others from different districts. They had chosen to run rather than fight, and for now, they had survived.

Cato stood at the center of it all, chest rising and falling steadily. He wiped the blood from his sword on the clothes of a fallen tribute before looking up, scanning the area. Even through the screen, Y/N could see it—the wild, dangerous glint in his eyes. This was what he had been made for. What he had trained for.

He had never looked more like a victor.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. She should be proud. Cato was proving himself to be the strongest, just like she always knew he would. But all she felt was cold dread settling in her bones. Because the Games had only just begun.

And there was still so much more blood to be spilled.

Cato’s pov

The bloodbath was over, leaving only the strongest standing. Cato, Lucian, Clove, and Selene wasted no time. While the arena around them was soaked in blood and rain, they focused on what mattered—securing supplies. The Cornucopia was theirs. Weapons, food, medical kits, even survival gear. Everything they needed to dominate the arena.

Cato slung a heavy bag of supplies over his shoulder, scanning the area. “We should move before nightfall,” he said, his voice firm. “There’s a river nearby. We set up camp there.”

Lucian nodded in agreement, grabbing another backpack. “Good call. We’ll need water.”

They each took what they could carry. Clove stuffed extra knives into her belt, while Selene gathered rope and other essentials. When they had everything they needed, they left the Cornucopia behind, making their way toward the river. The rain had finally started to let up, leaving the ruined city damp and eerily quiet.

They reached the river within minutes. The water flowed steady and clear, reflecting the artificial sky above. The arena was a masterpiece of controlled destruction—half nature, half ruins.

Selene stretched, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder. “Not a bad spot,” she said, eyeing Cato with a smirk. “Guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

Cato forced a smirk, leaning casually against a broken pillar. “Guess so,” he replied smoothly, meeting her gaze. He could see the interest in her eyes. She was playing the game, just like he was. And that was fine. If he had to play along to secure sponsors, so be it. But she meant nothing to him. Only one person did, and she was far away, watching this nightmare unfold.

Selene stepped closer, tilting her head. “I saw you at training,” she murmured, dragging a finger down his arm. “You were incredible.”

Cato chuckled, making sure the cameras saw. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

It was all an act. He played the role of the arrogant, charming Career, just like Brutus had told him. He flirted, smirked, made sure the Capitol saw someone they could adore—or fear. But in his mind, all he could think about was Y/N. Was she watching this? Did she believe any of it? He hated himself for even pretending.

Night fell quickly. The rain had made the temperature drop, and a cold breeze moved through the ruins. The four of them sat in a circle, eating the food they’d claimed.

Then, a flicker of light in the distance caught their attention.

“A fire,” Clove whispered, her eyes narrowing.

Cato tensed, gripping his sword. “Idiots.”

Lucian smirked. “Looks like we’ve got more work to do.”

They moved swiftly, silently, weaving through the broken buildings. The fire was small, barely noticeable, but in the darkness of the arena, it stood out like a beacon. As they got closer, the voices of the tributes became clearer. The three of them—the male tribute from District 12, the one from District 8, and the female from District 3—had gathered together, probably thinking there was safety in numbers.

Fools.

Cato moved first. He was fast, silent, and before the boy from District 8 even realized what was happening, Cato’s sword was buried deep in his side. The tribute gasped, blood bubbling at his lips as he fell.

The girl from District 3 screamed, scrambling to her feet. Clove was on her in an instant, a knife slashing across her throat. She collapsed, choking on her own blood.

The boy from District 12 tried to run. He made it two steps before Lucian tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath his knee. The tribute struggled, terror in his eyes.

“Please—” he started.

Lucian didn’t let him finish. He drove his knife straight into the boy’s chest, twisting it before pulling it out. The tribute went still.

Silence fell over the ruins once more, except for the crackling fire and the sound of the rain dripping from the broken buildings.

Selene sighed dramatically, wiping blood from her dagger. “Pathetic.”

Cato stared down at the bodies, gripping his sword tightly. This was the game. This was survival. But for the first time, as he wiped the blood from his blade, his mind wasn’t on victory.

It was on Y/N.

And whether she was still watching.

Y/N’s pov

The screen flickered, bathing Y/N’s dimly lit living room in a cold glow. She sat on the couch, rigid, hands clenched together so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. Her parents were beside her, silent, but she could feel her mother’s worried gaze flickering toward her every few seconds.

Caesar Flickerman’s voice rang out, smooth and theatrical as always.

“And there we have it, ladies and gentlemen, the Careers staking their claim! What a thrilling first day in the arena!”

Beside him, his fellow commentator, Claudius Templesmith, nodded. “Absolutely, Caesar. The bloodbath was nothing short of a spectacle. Our tributes from District 1 and 2 played their part well. And look at Cato! The way he moved, the precision, the sheer power—he’s a real contender.”

Y/N wanted to scream.

She had seen it all. Every brutal second. Every fatal swing of Cato’s sword. Every scream of the dying tributes. And worst of all, she had seen the way Selene touched him. The way he smirked at her. The way he played along.

Claudius chuckled. “And let’s not forget Selene from District 1! She certainly seems to have taken a liking to Cato. That little exchange by the river—well, I wouldn’t be surprised if we have some romance this year!”

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

“Cato’s got charm, strength, and let’s face it, the looks,” Caesar added with a knowing grin.

Her chest tightened as she recalled his interview. The way he had looked directly into the camera, the way his eyes softened for just a second before he uttered that awful, crushing word:

“No.”

No one waiting for him back home. No one who mattered.

And now he was flirting with Selene like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.

Her breathing grew uneven. She wanted to tell herself she was being irrational, that it was just a tactic, that this didn’t change anything. But the image of Selene leaning into him, the way he didn’t push her away—it played over and over again in her mind.

“Y/N,” her mother whispered gently, placing a hand on her arm.

She flinched. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine at all.

On screen, the scene shifted to nightfall in the arena. The rain had finally stopped, and the Careers were gathered around a fire, eating, laughing. Y/N’s gut twisted as she watched Cato sitting next to Selene. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something practiced in the way he spoke to her, in the way he let her brush her fingers along his arm.

She felt sick.

“Look at them, completely at ease,” Claudius remarked. “And they should be. They dominated the Cornucopia. They have the supplies, the weapons, and let’s not forget—Cato was the first to reach the Cornucopia, making a clear statement to the other tributes.”

“He’s ruthless,” Caesar agreed, shaking his head with admiration. “The way he took down the District 8 tribute—brutal. Efficient.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to block it all out, but the sounds wouldn’t stop. The clash of metal, the cries of pain, the sickening finality of death. And worst of all, Cato’s cold, calculated movements. This wasn’t the boy she had grown up with. This wasn’t the boy she loved.

Or maybe it was. Maybe this was always part of him, hidden beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

The thought made her stomach turn.

And then the scene changed again. A flicker of light in the darkness—a fire.

“Oh, this is a mistake,” Caesar commented. “A huge mistake.”

The Careers moved through the ruins like predators hunting prey. Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched Cato lead the charge, his steps sure and silent. The tributes by the fire never even had a chance.

The boy from District 8—dead in an instant, Cato’s sword cutting him down before he could react. The girl from District 3—Clove’s knife at her throat, gone in seconds. And the boy from 12—he begged. He tried to run. But Lucian ended it just as quickly.

The camera zoomed in on Cato’s face. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on his sword was tight. Y/N knew that grip. She had seen it a thousand times when they sparred together. When he was angry. When he was struggling with something he wouldn’t say out loud.

But it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when his hands were coated in blood and the arena had claimed him completely.

She stood abruptly.

“Y/N?” her mother asked, worried.

“I need some air.”

She didn’t wait for a response before stepping outside, letting the cold night air hit her.

Cato was alive.

But she didn’t know if she wanted to keep watching.

Tag list: @inky-bonnie @russianspy24 @whitlocklibrary

this blog hates donald trump

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁