#district 2 the hunger games

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever: Year 0 (1/2)

I'm starting to think I'm stuck in a dream, cause we're young and we don't know better.

Summary: Cato comes home from winning the 74th Hunger Games, and Luna has to adapt to how such a thing changes not only their once-peaceful life, but Cato himself. WC: 6.5k words. Warnings: Canon divengence - Cato wins the 74th Hunger Games. Tension. Pregnancy. Luna is autistic, and we deal with quite a bit of autistic overstimulation here. A little bit of angst because of that.

Luna squirmed on her spot in the crowd, rubbing the palm of her hand uncomfortably as she tried not to flinch at the people getting too close time and time again.

They had not notion of personal space, honestly.

Everyone was too excited to be quiet or not push themselves into a good spot to see the train arriving – but if they wanted to be so close, why not just get down from the tall balcony? Then she wouldn’t have to be squirming away from elbows and shoulders.

She was meant to wait up there.

The cameras wanted a big scene for the moment Cato saw her again – like a long lost love coming back to life. Luna just wanted to go home.

The earplugs did the job for the sounds. While the people in the balcony were pushers, they weren’t screamers like the ones behind the barrier, which was at least nice.

Was it always going to be like that? So loud and full of attention?

Lyme seemed to live a peaceful life, and people left her be – though everyone knew who she was. Brutus and Enobaria were fawned over a bit, to be fair.

She hadn’t seen Wade since he won, of course, so she had no measure for a recent victor.

“There comes the train,” the reporter at the station announced. “Let’s roll the cameras.��

The officials and adjacent voices quieted down and straightened up, giving her some space and Luna tried to keep her back straight and her face from showing discomfort – he’d asked for her not to cry very firmly before he left and there were no cameras there.

Cato wouldn’t be happy if she was not only seen but filmed by cameras meant to air them to the whole nation acting like a child being scolded just because she disliked the noise.

Besides, he was finally coming home.

The train moved slowly into the station and she squeezed the cool metal railing of the balcony, wishing time to move faster.

The doors opened, and it was like a brand new set of perfect lungs were put inside her body, and inflated with the cleanest air.

It was one thing to see him on TV, to hear that he was alright, but seeing was completely different.

Her shoulders lightened like the weight of the world had left them.

He was alive.

No, not only alive. He was alive, with both legs and both arms, and all ten fingers if she could count, and not a single hair of his head was missing from where she could see him.

Cato was well. He was alive and safe.

Her throat tightened as he shook hands with the reporter and, grinning, always so charming, and she blinked fast, trying to keep herself steady.

Luna’s hands squeezed the railing more, waiting for him.

She wasn’t going to cry. There was makeup on her face, everyone was looking at her and he had asked her not to cry. His wife would not be seen crying.

She blinked her wet eyes as he shook hands with the mayor, a blurry mess away just a few steps from the train as Brutus and Enobaria got their well deserved congratulations and minutes of boosting.

Someone put a hand on her back and she jumped away, confused and uncomfortable, but a woman just grinned up at her.

“Go on,” she coached her, her tone overly syrupy. “It’s your turn now.”

Luna was glad Lyme had stopped them from making her wear heels, or else she would have tripped completely and made a fool of herself as she walked down the 16 steps from the balcony to the lower station, with not only lights pointed at her but cameras filming and photographing her right there.

Cato was smiling so largely she couldn’t keep herself from tearing up more when he came to her, and in a second his arms were around her body and she was tucked into his chest, hiding from all of them and wetting his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he rubbed her back. “I’m home. I told you I would be home.”

She felt her stomach tightening as she held a sob.

Of course he did! But everyone who went into the games said they would be home, and yet only one person out of 24 came back.

“I know,” she hissed, squeezing him, her voice completely gone.

Cato pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Come on, they want to see us,” he coached her softly. “Won’t you let me look at you? I haven’t seen you weeks.”

The second phrase convinced her more than the first.

He was right.

She’d been watching him in her living room since he left, but he was just as far away from her as she was from him.

Luna looked up, trying to blink her eyes dry as the cool tears fell down her cheeks, looking up at him.

"There’s my girl,” he touched her face, leaning in and giving her lips a kiss.

It was a performative kiss, she knew. For the cameras and the people. Still, it was quite a comfort for a brief second, when he his lips touched hers and she could feel him right there again.

Until it didn’t quite match what she remembered.

Cato’s lips were… harder? Well, not harder but… it was hard to describe it. Cato’s lips were always thin, and soft but with some bits of bitten skin. Everything of that was gone. The skin was soft, yes, but the flesh was… off.

Luna pulled back, bewildered, and he was smiling when he rested his forehead on hers, and she couldn’t even the way her hands travelled up to his face.

She knew his face, she had spent months sculpting his face, watching him sleep, studying him as a subject and in her bed. She had seen him for at least a year closely, and she knew him.

They had changed him.

His lips were bigger now. Slightly, just a bit really, but enough.

And when she ran her thumbs over his jaw, they didn’t find the usual path – the asymmetry she’d worked so hard into carving into marble. When her eyes looked at his skin, it was clean and perfectly white. There wasn’t a single remain of the freckles she’s spent her early mornings counting.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

Did he know?

Was it make up?

But it didn’t feel like make up when she ran her fingers over his skin.

Cato’s hand came to her wrist, cupping hers with a firm look in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he repeated.

She looked down on his lips, but she was caught on his nose.

His nose, with the slight widened bridge right between his eyes, with that beautiful crook… it wasn’t there. None of what she remembered was there.

Cato squeezed her hand, lowering his head, chasing her eyes with his as he took her hand and kissed her palm.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice very firm.

Well, that one was the same.

She let him push her hands down – after kisses to both her palms – and guide her right to her spot down to the grinning reporter. It shocked her even more for a second – as minor as it was – that his hands were perfectly smooth. The callused bits of his palms, from the weights and the weapons, weren’t there, it was like touching her mother’s skin – completely untouched by anything that would hurt it.

“Luna,” the man greeted, too familiar with her name, as if he had said it hundreds of times.

Cato slipped a hand to her back and she straightened herself up, ready to blink her tears away, but there weren’t any, she was just shocked.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” the man told her, offering a hand to shake.

She froze for a moment.

Again?

They’d never seen one another.

Lyme didn’t say she had to talk to people.

“Hi,” she mumbled.

He pushed the microphone closer to her face, and she would have flinched away if Cato wasn’t holding her right in place.

“I’m sure you’re very happy to see Cato back,” the reporter nudged. “I’m sure you got so many things to share with him, news from when he was away.”

She turned to Cato, lost. Wasn’t her interview before enough. What did they need her to say now?

“Yes,” she stuttered, swallowing down, feeling like a deer in headlights. “I’m… very happy to have him back.”

Luna looked at her husband again, and he was just grinning at the men.

“Well, we all know Caesar spoiled the best of the surprises,” he affirmed, her answer completely irrelevant for his next words. “But I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about now that he is back, I’m sure you are so happy to see her again.”

She glanced at the people with the cameras, quickly taking her eyes to Cato again, still shocked.

They’d changed him. Why had they changed him? He hadn’t broken his nose or his jaw, there was no need to fix them.

“I was counting the hours to come back home to her,” Cato affirmed, very firmly. “I’m glad to finally have her.”

The reporter grinned more, turning to look at her, and Luna tucked her eyes down, uncomfortable as he turned to the camera.

“Cato,” she whispered.

He grabbed her hand squeezing it.

“Not now,” he spoke between gritted teeth.

“-And we have a wonderful day before us with our favourite new victor together, Panem, so let’s go.”

He kept talking, but she paid no attention, startled when she was simply pushed away and Cato caught her in time just to take her to the big car waiting for them.

There was a parade that was going to happen tomorrow and she wouldn’t have to attend it, but Luna was not informed of anything that was going to happen after the platform. She never watched the programs with victors after the games were over. Mum always turned the TV off for days straight after the games, so they could decompress from it.

Someone practically shoved her into the seat and closed the door, stunning her back, and she turned her head quickly when Cato sat right by her side, her words loss in her throat.

He shot her a hard chilling look.

“Just wait,” he told her roughly. “Smile and wave to them.”

He was the victor, why did she have to wave with him?

But he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, and she put on her best attempt at a smile as she waved off to people who probably didn’t care for who she was as the car drove off into the justice building in a line with other government cars, probably with much more important people than she would ever be.

The crowd was endless, so much so that Luna wondered if people were moving from spot to spot to follow them or if they had travelled from different towns to be there to see him.

Still, the streets were full as they all arrived not at the justice building – where she thought they would be –but at Victor’s Village, past Lyme’s very own house and to the last of the twelve houses to the right and parked up.

Someone opened the door for Cato and then to her, but he was already being guided away to a door with the mayor, and someone pushed her back.

“You stay here,” a woman told her. “You’re had your moment, we want to capture our victor.”

Luna bit down a snap of an answer – she didn’t want her own moment. She didn’t want cameras on her face or people pushing her!

"Yes,” she mumbled, anyway, stepping back.

Cato looked into the crowd, trying to find her and meeting her eyes right before someone simply blocked her view of him – and probably his of her.

Luna circled the crowd of elites. Cato looked smaller now, thinner. Of course, it wasn’t surprising – he’d spent weeks in an arena with limited food, fighting for his life.

“-your first gift from the Capitol, your very own house at Victor’s Village,” the reporter announced to the camera, standing by his side. “Tell me, Cato-”

His hair had been cut from the time he spent in the arena, back to the usual short style. The colour looked the same – very blonde, with the tips a bit lighter.

He was still wearing the bracelet she had given him, and he had lost his tan from the usual summer sun – but she couldn’t know if it was something they did or just a reflex from the arena. It was closed, it had no sun.

From afar, he looked like himself.

And yet, when Luna looked at his face, it was like she was seeing a painting of a painting. A picture of a picture.

All faces, she learnt with her sculpting, had flaws. Luna’s right eye was slightly taller than her other eye, and so was her eyebrow. Actually, the whole left side of her face was a bit higher than her right.

Juno’s hairline was wonky. Jupiter’s lips spread less to the right than to the left. Cato’s jaw and nose were a bit crooked to the right in a way – they used to be.

No one is meant to look perfect. People were meant to have things that looked different when their faces were parted in a way.

He looked perfect, and that was horrible. Terrifying, in a way.

A woman slipped right in front of Luna to a man’s arms, and she caught sight of Lyme walking to the group to join her, breathing out in relief at the sight of a familiar face and ready to join her when she heard the sound of her name.

“With Luna, of course!” Cato exclaimed.

She turned her head to him, and the pair in front of her stepped away from their spot.

She was less spooked when he strode through the flower-covered yard, reaching out his hand to her, and she took without even thinking, feeling every pair of eyes on her.

“It’s our house,” Cato looked into her eyes.

And oh, maybe his face looked a bit different, and his freckled were gone, but those were his eyes.

She would never forget his eyes. They would never change.

Luna squeezed his fingers and he guided her right to the door of the house.

Their house.

It was huge. The door itself could walk three people in easily, the size of it was extraordinary and completely unnecessary.

“This is the moment we all love to see,” the reporter announced behind them. “Our beloved victor stepping into his house and his new role and life as one of our country’s greatest heroes.”

Cato was about to take her along when a woman came right to him, dressed and practically painted in red with her make up and hair to stop him.

“Go on and pick her up, it’s going to be very romantic!” she whispered, suddenly reaching for Luna to adjust her hair. “Who did your hair, darling, why does it look so flat?”

She flinched away.

“That won’t be-”

Necessary, she was going to say.

But she couldn’t. Cato moved down, putting his arm under her knees and hoisting her up, and she braced herself on his shoulders, looking at his face.

He looked so tired. How long had the cameras been following him? They could be recording in the train, they were probably recording him in the Capitol as well.

“Just for the cameras,” he told her, his voice very soft.

Luna didn’t fight him, just nodding a bit.

It was almost like the day they got married. He’d carried her inside her little studio.

A camera came to their side and she kept her eyes on him when the door opened slowly.

Just this and the day would be over, right?

“And three… two...” someone counted. “Go in.”

Her husband complied, holding her close to him as he stepped over the threshold of their new house, and the inside was a welcome silence for the three seconds it took people to follow them in.

It was a huge house. The living room was as tall as maybe two whole floors, and she could see a long staircase to a balcony of sorts to the second floor.

“A remarkable place indeed,” the reporter introduced as Cato set her down. “An extensive living room, twelve bedrooms, two offices, six full bathrooms and two half bathrooms, and a kitchen that can feed a battalion! And you know what our dear Victor said, this baby is going to be the first of many to join their family.”

Luna’s neck snapped to look at him, and she looked away at the sight of the camera.

The baby. They hadn’t even talked about the baby yet.

They hadn’t talked about anything at all!

Cato’s hand sneaked to her belly to rest on it, and Luna softened, covering it with his.

“Caesar told me,” he whispered. “When did you find out?”

She felt her face flushing.

It was one of her biggest grievances, having to tell Caesar Flickerman about a baby she herself wasn’t ready to address.

“A bit after the chariot ride,” she covered his hand with hers. "Mum made me get a test.”

His eyes looked down at his hand, looking both awed and lost.

He pulled his hand away suddenly, stiffening up, and she turned right to the side when he did so, finding the camera already approaching them again.

“And I’m sure the future Mrs Hadley is going to love the sight of her new kitchen,” he spoke up, approaching the two of them. “We all know you love working with your hands.”

Luna blinked, stunned. She was a sculptor, not a cook. Mum had to chase her away from the kitchen sometimes.

But a woman grabbed her hand before she could eve think of what to say, hoisting it up and holding her fingers like he was meant to guide her off, and she couldn’t even squirm away from her.

A camera remained with Cato, but another followed the two of them right away as she let herself be guided away.

The kitchen was indeed gigantic. It felt like someone had tore down the wall between her parents’ kitchen and dinning room and turned into a single room.

“As you can see,” the woman started speaking, sounding extremely excited as she tugged her into the middle of the room. “You’ll have a fridge especially for meats, as we all know how much a victor and mentor as strong as Cato needs his protein.”

The woman pointed at the first fridge, with a huge pair of doors.

“It gets to lower degrees and it is primed for the conservation of raw protein. And your main fridge-”

Luna looked around, still a bit stunned.

It was just the two of them. Yes, three in a few months, but they could easily live off of a house smaller than even her parents’. And she understood that Cato was a victor and he would have his house anyway – it was a very generous gift from the Capitol – but it unsettled her belly anyway.

“We took the liberty of filling it up already, of course,” the woman laughed, opening the doors. “With the best of everything there is, for our favourite victor.”

The woman moved a hand to her back, turning her around to the isles without even caring to look at her.

“All of the utilities are hidden to preserve the beauty of the place,” she continued, running her fingers under the marble rimming of the counters. “Here you’ll find a button to reveal the dishwasher...”

Luna was ready to bend down to look, but the woman held her arm.

“Buttons, dear.”

Her face felt hot, and reached for the buttons, a bit confused.

Finally, the dishwasher appeared – big enough to fit dishes of three meals inside it.

“The cycles are silent and especially adjusted for the capitol plates, isn’t the marvellous?” she asked.

But Luna couldn’t even open her mouth to answer.

It was weird, actually.

“And here is your sink, you have hot and cold water,” she continued explaining. “You can control the water jets and this button on the wall will start the internal processor, so do not get your pretty finger inside the hole or you might lose it!” she giggled.

Luna’s eyes widened. What?!

“The cupboards are self-cleaning,” she continued. “An internal system that gets rids of the dust particles, very recently invented and patented by the Capitol. Don’t you love the sight of sparkling clean crystal?”

She looked up.

Was it any different from normal glass?

“The oven is centre piece of the kitchen,” the woman continued, very dramatic. “But you will have the privilege of having not one, but two of them.”

Luna blinked.

“Why would I need two ovens?”

The woman turned to her, looking surprised, as if she didn’t expect her to speak.

“For so many reasons!” she laughed.

Why was she laughing?

“Oh, you are indeed so adorable,” she sighed dreamily. “This is the first one, a conventional oven, for those quick every day meals.” she continued, and the camera focused right on it.

She continued explaining without a care, over specifications that meant nothing – numbers and names Luna couldn’t find half a reason for.

The woman talked about steaming, toasting, baking… smoking?

It was a long tour for a single room, and she guessed it was… a nice room? Pretty. And it had a nice table too, so it was convenient.

“We are so excited to show you the rooms upstairs as well,” she exclaimed. “Let’s go back and join the main crew.”

Luna exhaled, relaxing. Good, they would probably focus on Cato now.

And yet, the moment the crews met again, Cato’s hand came to grab hers and squeeze them tightly.

“They have a surprise for you,” he told her.

She moved on her feet, uncomfortable.

"Is it another kitchen?” she mumbled back.

Cato snorted out a laugh, sounding shocked, and everyone turned to them right before he stiffened up again, though smiling.

That made Luna relax. Well, at least she could still make him smile in that stupid full day.

“It’s something nice,” he told her quietly, kissing her knuckles. “I know you’ll like it.”

She breathed out. Well, that was good, then.

“Now, our future married pair are set to get married in, spoilers, September,” the reporter spoke out, filling the room, and she turned right to him, wide eyed.

September?

“It’s going to be a lovely occasion, I’m certain,” he approached them. “But we decided that we would give Cato’s bride a little… engagement gift.”

She was still stunned.

They were getting married in September? When? Where?

Of course, they’d gotten married in secret before, but it was just a cultural ceremony, and Cato said the Capitol would probably want to make their wedding into a big show, but wouldn’t they at least speak to her about it first?

“This way, come with us.”

Cato tugged her along the way quietly.

“We have a couple of guest rooms downstairs for those family visits, as far from the master bedroom as possible, I assure you,” he joked, leading the crew. “And here… come here, my dearest.”

Someone pushed her, making Luna stumble up, and the reporter assistant who’d dragged her through the kitchen grabbed her hand again.

This time, though, she quickly snatched it away – though no one seemed to care. She wasn’t a child, she didn’t need to be tugged along.

“Here is probably the best gift you’ve ever received in your whole life!” his voice cracked, as if he was about to cry about her feelings.

He pushed the door open and Luna was pushed inside without a care, but the sight of the machine inside made her freeze in shock.

It was a stone cutting machine.

No, it wasn’t only a stone cutting machine, it was the best one that was out there in the market!

“We all heard of your lovely sculpting hobby, and we are all very excited to have busts and sculptures of our favourite victor to ourselves,” the reporter explained, mischievous. “And now we all know where to source it from.”

She was so frozen she didn’t even think to correct him – it wasn’t a hobby, it was her work!

Luna stepped up to the machine, hovering her hands over it. She would have to work twenty years straight to purchase anything near its quality.

She couldn’t even touch it – what if she broke it?!

“Who better to give us the most accurate works than someone who sleeps right beside him on his bed, am I right?” the reporter joked. “If you go around, you can see how we’ve also given you the best new sculpting tools money can buy.”

Luna turned to look at them, still shocked.

“Oh, don’t look at me,” he told her. “Look at your future husband, he’s the one who arranged all of it.”

She looked at Cato, shocked, and he simply smiled, walking to her.

“Surprise,” he whispered.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“You don’t have to sculpt me,” Cato teased her gently. “It’s yours. You do what you want with it.”

She squeezed his hand, genuinely excited.

It was such a nice surprise! It was much better than whatever that kitchen was.

“Now, we can go ahead and show you the bedrooms!” the man continued. “They are all made for guests now...” he exclaimed, and then giggled, obviously winking at the camera. “But with time, you are certainly going to be able to decorate them for your growing family.”

Cato tugged her along out to the corridor, and Luna tried not to deflate. She hadn’t even seen her tools yet! Or the manual for the machine.

They left and walked through the corridor, and she was still thinking back on the machine when they saw the guest rooms – all very standard, pretty much like the rooms in Lyme’s house when she stayed with her.

The man kept talking, and she just watched everything. Were they going to take much longer? They were at that for… two hours already?

“And now, we go to the top floor of the house,” the reporter explained. “Careful with the stairs. Come, Cato.”

Cato complied, taking her right with him.

Three levels. Twelve bedrooms.

Who in the world needed twelve bedrooms? Who had a family big enough to fill up twelve bedrooms and still be part of the elite?

Luna had seen those people growing up. It was very rare that someone from the higher classes had more than two kids. Even in her own circles, the biggest group of siblings she had seen were composed of five of them.

With Peacekeepers almost always being shipped to different districts with such short visits to their home and families, most people kept their families smaller. It was the lower classes that had more children, the people who mined the stones and did the manual labour – they needed all the help they could get.

“This is where the magic happens,” the reported grinned. “After your wedding, obviously. Let’s get inside.”

He entered with the cameras before Cato did, and it was good that they had gone first, so she could look around the bedroom.

It was the size of her whole little flat - with the bedroom and the bathroom. Actually, it looked even bigger.

The bed could fit maybe eight people her size. Maybe three of her with three of Cato in there. It was family sized, somehow – it had to be as big as a bedroom. Who would sleep on something so big?

“Here we have your bathroom,” he continued, moving to film the bathroom, but she didn’t follow them, still a bit shocked.

A holographic projector for the television, she’d only seen those in school.

And so many couches. Why would they need couches in their bedroom? It was a bedroom! It was made for sleep.

“Right beside it is his closet,” she heard as the crew moved, and they looked right to look at Cato, right by her side. “Completely made by your stylist, come you’re going to love it!”

Cato tugged on Luna’s hand, but she didn’t let herself be taken by him.

“It’s your closet,” she reminded him softly, the last word catching in her throat. “You should… go.”

The word ‘alone’ was unsaid, but still there. Honestly, the thought of being in a room without cameras for a minute sounded too delightful to pass.

He stared at her for a moment, wide eyed, as if he was caught in a trap.

“I’ll be here,” she assured him. “Sat down. Please.”

Just one minute, she just needed one minute.

Cato didn’t say anything, but released her hand stiffly, walking out with his shoulders so tense it looked like he was trying to pose.

Luna looked around, suddenly feeling her feet hurting and her whole body just screaming for a minute.

Maybe she could just walk out. Leave him with his interview crew, and just go.

But when she looked at the door, the people following around them were all piling outside, looking into the room with curiosity like a barrier was keeping them stuck in their place.

She swallowed down, feeling like an animal trapped into a cage, and looked at her feet before sitting down on the nearest chair, trying to make herself as small as possible, and the fabric of her dress was rough when she took it between her fingers, rubbing it as she tried to keep herself from tensing too much or getting overwhelmed.

Just this last bedroom and they would leave them be, right?

Or at least leave her be.

She wasn’t important. Cato was the star. The victor.

Luna pushed her hair behind her ears, shifting uncomfortably, looking back at the door again.

It was just a short walk to Lyme’s house, and she didn’t bother her at all when she was at her house.

Luna rubbed her wrist as she looked out the window. It was so far away from her town, though. Why would they put Cato so far away from where he initially lived? And it was a five hour drive from her parents’ house!

Surely it wouldn’t be a nuisance to put Cato in the Victor’s Village there?! They’d been there before, there were empty houses they could give to Cato!

“And now, a surprise from our very own crew to our dear victor,” the reporter’s voice caught her attention again, and Luna’s neck snapped to look up at him. “When Caesar heard about the wonderful news from your bride herself, he wanted to give the two of you something.”

She stood up, a bit weary. They were talking about the baby.

“And, of course, we all poured into it,” he continued, grinning.

Cato came to her right away, grabbing her hand, looking at her face and squeezing her fingers, and she just knew he knew her too well to fall for any attempt of hers to pretend she was alright.

Luna didn’t even hear the words the man was speaking to the camera as Cato walked her off, trying to focus on keeping herself breathing and not just digging a hole to hide away in.

Why had they given her a dress with such big sleeves. It was August. Who wore sleeves in August?

The reporter opened the door, and Cato ushered them inside, and she froze at the sight of what was inside.

A nursery.

The bright electric colours were all she could see at first — the walls, the bedding, the curtains. Everything loud and overwhelming. A bunch of weird toys cluttered the space, and it looked like something out of a Capitol showroom rather than a nursery.

“What do you think?” the reporter turned to them expectantly, his smile widening.

She looked away from them, not trusting herself to give them an answer. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed down the sharp sting of tears. This was supposed to be their child’s room. Their nursery. Their choices! The colours, the crib, the details — they should’ve picked everything themselves! Wasn’t that part of it? The excitement, the joy of creating a space together for the baby they were expecting?

But even that had been taken from them, stripped of meaning and turned into some TV spectacle!

She felt Cato’s fingers squeezing hers, urging her to meet his gaze, and his eyes searched her face as she she shook her head, her lower lip trembling despite her efforts to hold it all in.

If she said even a word, she could fall into tears. He had to know.

Cato sighed softly, and Luna caught the brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes before he pulled her into his chest. She buried her face against him without hesitation, trying to block out the room, the cameras, the eyes on her.

She just wanted to disappear.

“Oh, look at her!” the reporter cooed, his voice dripping with fake sympathy as if he were talking to a shy toddler. “Oh, darling, there’s no need to cry. The poor thing…”

Luna flinched as she felt a stranger's hand brush her back, but before she could pull away, Cato’s hand replaced it, holding her closer.

“She’s just overwhelmed,” Cato said smoothly, his voice so fake she couldn’t even recognise it, the perfect mask of politeness. “We had such a long day, with so many surprises. This is… so beautiful and so nice. The gifts we’ve received, the wonderful people we met…”

She tried to focus on the sound of him under her – his voice echoing in his chest, the sound of his heart under her ear, as loud and fast as her own.

“This is so wonderful,” Cato continued, his tone as hollow as the words he spoke. “I never once thought returning home would be so… joyful.”

Joyful. Had he ever used that word? Well, no. It wasn’t Cato speaking; it was a script. A line fed to him, polished and memorized for a moment like this.

“We are so glad to be part of this, you have no idea,” the reporter affirmed, like he was talking about a fairytale of sorts.

Cato’s hand rubbed soothing circles on her back, but the motion felt mechanical, his hand gentle but nothing close to the usual affection.

“And cut,” the assistant called out cheerfully, clapping her hands. “Now we’ll take a photo for Caesar and wrap everything up at the garden — it’s going to be majestic!”

Cato stiffened as he pulled away from Luna, his motions rigid, mechanical and she kept her eyes down as everyone around them began to move, chatting and arranging things, but she couldn’t even look at the damn room!

They weren’t going to set up the nursery there! They weren’t even doing to stay in that damn room, who would willingly sleep at the 3rd floor of a house that size?!

“Let’s just get a that photo quick,” someone said loudly, grabbing her attention.

She froze for a moment. Couldn’t they have a moment?

Before she could process it, the woman in red—heels clacking against the vivid green carpet— rushed toward her, hands already reaching out.

“Oh, you are a mess,” she exclaimed, suddenly reaching for her face and taking her hair from behind her ears. “Who let you wear your hair like that? You needed curls!”

Luna froze, staring at her, motionless.

Why was she touching her face? Her face!

No.

No, no, no. That was it.

She stepped away from the woman, feeling as stiff as a cut of marble, with her hands in front of her body, looking for the way out of the room without thinking.

“Luna,” Cato called again, the irritation she knew he was feeling sipping into his voice.

But she didn’t stop or even looked at him, her legs moved before her brain could catch up. She burst into the bedroom, then the first door she could find, her fingers trembling as she slammed it shut behind her, locking it with a desperate twist.

She could barely breathe when she practically crawled into a corner, ignoring the fabrics and clothes, tucking herself into a squared space she wouldn’t know how to name in the dark, heart pounding in her ears and dress itching her back. She didn’t even think before her fingers fumbled with the buttons at the back of her neck, pulling the dress down off her shoulders. It bunched awkwardly around her belly as she hugged her knees to her chest, curling into herself.

There was a noise of chatter outside that overwhelmed even her earplugs, and she covered her ears without even thinking, flinching when a knock on the door echoed through the empty room.

“Luna,” Cato’s voice followed, cold and deliberate, and every word felt like it was being spat out. “Come out.”

She closed her eyes, tucking her head down, unable to even speak any words.

“They want to take a picture of us and film our garden."

But they had already taken so many pictures. Why did they need more? Couldn’t they just use one of the hundreds they’d already taken the whole day?

“Please,” his voice dropped into a near-hiss, his frustration seeping through the door . “You’re making a scene.”

The words hit her like a whip, stinging. A scene. She didn’t want to be causing a scene, she wasn’t trying to make things difficult, he had to know that.

Cato knew her. She didn’t like loud noises, she didn’t like scratchy clothes, and she didn’t like being touched by strangers! He knew all of that — he knew it since the very first day they’d met!

Cato’s knock came again, louder and sharper this time, making her flinch, and Luna curled into herself even more.

There was a sigh from the other side of the door—heavy and full of forced patience.

“We can proceed without my bride,” Cato’s voice announced, loud and clear, his words filled with a performative politeness. “She is terribly emotional because of the baby and the wonderful gifts we received today. We should give her a minute.

Luna bit down on her lip hard, her hands clutching her hair for a moment.

Because of the baby. Of course, it was always because of the baby. She was too emotional, too fragile to handle anything anymore, as if she hadn’t been surrounded by people she didn’t know as they pushed and shoved her and ogled her like a zoo animal the whole day.

The voices outside the door started to fade. They must have believed Cato’s explanation. The sounds of footsteps grew distant, and after a few minutes, silence finally fell over the room.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader

A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!

Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!

Wc: 1609

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.

There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.

Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.

Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.

Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.

Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.

"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"

As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.

His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.

"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.

"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.

"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.

'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"

In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.

He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.

"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"

He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.

"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.

"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.

"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.

With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.

Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.

~

As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.

On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.

The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.

As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.

The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.

You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.

Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.

[vampirehizzies]

its interesting to me how katniss clocked cato and annie specifically as having mental illness but since cato was the one actively trying to kill her/having emotional outbursts in the arena fandom writes him as the dangerous person he is, while with annie since katniss wasn't scared of or threatened by her fandom saw fit to infantilize her and treat her like she's some meek incompetent inarticulate child who can't do anything for herself or without finnick

[kald-dal-art]

Doodles based on my latest reread of Hunger Games, guess we’ll see if I make more

[jasmineslonghair]

Another rant.

In a sense I do believe that Snow did love Lucy Gray, but I saw this tiktok talk about how it isn't a love story, it's a tragedy. I have to agree, because Snow was given so many chances to choose the good path, he had people that genuinely believe in him. Tigris, Lucy Gray and Sejanus but Snow is so emotionally stunted and not willing to progress. (At least from my view that's what I concluded)

So many times throughout the book I caught myself smiling or laughing at something he said. And I literally would be like "wtf" but Suzanne Collins is such a genius writer like that, and like a broken clock I'll repeat, she wrote this book so well that, I was genuinely forgetting that this young man will become a man I will hate and wish death upon.

Reading the original trilogy as a pre-teen I never truly understood the gravity of Snow's evil and watching the movies again recently with context from the book, made so many little actions and lines hold more weight.

I hate over-analysing books because of English in school, but books like this remind me why I love to read and get lost in worlds that are are different but the same.

I'm rambling but this book and this whole franchise has been on my mind for a while and I need a creative outlet.

[mariigoldzz]

Alternative tribute interview outfits/how I'd dress certain district.

One thing the first movie screwed up was, imo, the tribute outfits. I felt like they should have dressed the tributes up in something related to their district (while still being memorable.) instead of party dresses and suits. I understand that they didn't have a huge budget but I wanted to share my ideas/what I envisioned.

DISTRICT TWO: MILITARY

Since district two produces all of the peacekeepers and weapons I think it'd be really cool if their tributes wore some military inspired clothes. Like, imagine Cato and Clove in these! They would look so cute! (And memorable)

@atefingersdagger you might enjoy this one

DISTRICT FOUR: FISHING

District four is actually the easiest district because you can do a lot with the whole water theme. Dresses and vests with scaly(?) textures. Jeweled strings hanging from skirts like jellyfish.

DISTRICT 5: POWER

glow in the dark outfits babyyy

DISTRICT 7: LUMBER

Why does johannas stylist suck so bad. Wtf what that elevator outfit. Give them corsets and vests with patterns of trees. Tights with Ivy designs on them. Deer antlers, even. Dresses made from leaves.

DISTRICT 8: TEXTILES

District 8 could literally have the cutest outfits ever. They could dress similar to clowns but actually nice looking. There are so many things you can do with this district

DISTRICT 11: AGRICULTURE.

Farm outfits. Fruit inspired dresses. Vine crowns! Sunhats!

RUE WOULD LOOK SO CUTE IN THOS

DISTRICT TWELVE: COAL MINING

according to Katniss district twelve always sucks. That's because their stylists aren't creative. Like yeah you can dress them in coal black like they're going to a funeral but that's BOOORING. You know what else is found in mines? GEMSTONES. Give them cute little gems and shimmering jewelry to make them stand out. You could even make a nod to the Canary's they use as warnings.

It's serving vampire tbh

[sejanusarchive]

“Your own father used to say those people only drank water because it didn’t rain blood” vs two district boys who are assumed to be murder machines, yet prove that statement wrong multiple times: Reaper and Marcus.

PART ONE: REAPER

When Reaper is first introduced to us, we learn he’s rangy but muscular; we read about him wrapping his hands around Coriolanus’s throat on the truck headed to the zoo and about Dill, his District partner, saying he has killed a Peacekeeper before in District 11, without ever getting caught. 

Our first impression of him is that of a dangerous person, one who’s even clever in his lethality, and because of that we know he’s a presumed possible victor.

Lucy Gray mentions him more than once as one of the biggest threats, when talking about how she’s going to try as hard as she can to win the Games.

She also tells Coriolanus how Reaper apologized to the other tributes for having to kill them and told them he is going to make it up to them after, by taking revenge on the Capitol. Everyone takes this as him meaning it maliciously and with arrogance, ‘cause how else could he possibly mean it, right? Coriolanus thinks that he’s not only powerful, but good at mind games too. 

But the truth is that Reaper meant that genuinely, even with a certain innocence, and naivety to how it could have been misinterpreted. There was no malice or arrogance in his statement, but there was guilt and regret and grief, because of being forced into taking lives. He went into the arena fully prepared and resigned to kill the others to save himself, but not without obvious dissent.

When the Games start, he arms himself and heads to the stands. Coriolanus thinks he does so to begin his hunt, even if everyone else had fled in other directions and he had made no move to go after them.

Right after this we read about how Tanner, someone who’s also a presumed possible victor, is able to climb up to the first row of the stands and sit in the sun for a while, completely unbothered and unharmed. Reaper doesn’t try to fight him, even if it would have only been to his advantage, since he could have easily taken out his strongest opponent now that the Games had just begun and he wasn’t exhausted and starving.

His first interaction with another tribute in the arena is with a dying Dill, carrying her out of the tunnels, placing her in the sun and talking to her in the last moments of her life. 

His first act with another tribute, is comforting a dying child. 

This is when the “murder machine” image starts to crumble. Coriolanus’s classmates talk about how he doesn’t look so tough, doesn't look like the person who “promised to kill all the others”, which he never actually did.

But still, after all this, Coriolanus sees his distressed pacing around Dill, as him possibly being “eager to get back to the hunt”, a hunt he never even began, and not just him feeling pained and powerless at Dill’s condition. 

When Coriolanus is sent into the arena to get Sejanus out, Bobbin, Mizzen, Tanner and Coral are the tributes who go after them to try to kill them. No sign of Reaper at any point.

When Lucy Gray gets out of the tunnels with a rabid Jessup after her, he makes no move to kill them either. Coriolanus points out how he lets Lucy Gray go and only walks up to the bottles of water on the ground.

Again and again and again, he has a chance to easily take a life to save his own or take a small revenge against the Capitol, but he doesn’t. 

His second interaction with a tribute is with Lamina. He walks up to her, they negotiate an exchange of something both of them desperately need and that forms a bond between the two of them.

Then Coral, Mizzen and Tanner appear and he leaves, he goes behind the barricade and he falls asleep.

When he comes back out, he’s shocked to see Lamina and Tanner dead on the ground. And this is when he starts to make true his promise of avenging the tributes after their death. 

He lifts Lamina up in his arms and places her next to Marcus’s and Bobbin’s corpses and then collects Tanner, Dill and Sol, as well, and covers them all with the flag of Panem. And he keeps doing this with all the tributes for the rest of the Games, right until his death. 

This is the best form of revenge he could take. Not only because he disrespects the flag, causing great disdain among Capitol citizens; but also because, most importantly, he humanizes the tributes and gives them dignity, two things the Capitol has tried in every way to take away from them. He gives them as proper a burial as he can manage in those circumstances, makes it so now they can finally rest, tucked in a corner and covered, their corpses no longer on display for a bunch of sick people’s amusement. He honors them. He could have left them all scattered out on the dusty arena ground, but he didn’t. He took care of them.

Even when it’s just him and Lucy Gray left and he’s one step away from winning, he shows no signs of wanting to attack her. Doesn’t matter that he could easily take her out, save himself and finally go home. No, even then his main concern is that the tributes can properly rest with their corpses concealed. 

Everyone expected him to kill the most people, but he died in that arena killing no one and without ever even attempting to. He died holding strong to his humanity and making sure the fallen tributes could hold strong to theirs as well even in death.

Contrary to what we and the Capitol are made to believe initially, Reaper turns out to be pretty innocuous. He’s not a naturally violent or aggressive person, not a natural born killer and he refuses to be as well. This was a life or death situation and yet he didn’t even harm anyone. He has killed before, he is capable of it, but if he didn’t even do it in this case, even when all it would have taken for him to save himself was killing a girl smaller and younger than him, then imagine how dire and desperate the situation must have been when he had to resort to it.

He defied the Capitol by not participating in the Games, by not letting them turn him into the murder machine they wanted and expected him to be, and by honoring the corpses of the children whose lives have been so cruelly and unjustly cut short.

(Before moving on to Marcus, I wanna clarify some things in case anyone who’s reading this has only seen the movie. Reaper snapping at Clemensia during the one-on-one mentor-tribute interviews never happens in the book, neither does him looking angrily into the camera in the arena and challenging the Capitol to punish him arrogantly. Like we’ve just seen, this perceived arrogance and aggression in Reaper is a very surface level misconception of the people around him, that’s easily debunkable, that who made the movie took and ran with wrongfully. 

And actually there’s a few heartbreaking scenes in the book that contrast heavily with the image the movie created of him, like him tying a piece of the flag around his shoulders like a cape and spinning around, watching it fly behind him, and then running in the sun with his arms spread wide; and him rocking gently back and forth on himself for comfort, after the snake attacks, which is not when he dies in the book. He’s not the threatening, angry guy who tests the Capitol that they made him in the movie, he’s just a severely traumatized kid. Nothing more than a kid.

The movie made tons of stupid changes like this, that completely miss and disregard the whole point of both characters and story. Trust me when I say 99% of the characters are portrayed very wrongfully in it. So please keep that in mind.)

PART TWO: MARCUS

Marcus, like Reaper, was initially seen as a probable winner in the Games, before being murdered. Coriolanous makes note of his size multiple times, describing him as “towering”, as having a “colossal frame”, as “dwarfing the other tributes”, and comparing him to a grizzly bear. 

It’s exactly because of his size that people think of him as a sure winner, as capable of taking down everyone else, as threatening and deadly.

But then we hear Sejanus, the only person who actually got to know him at some point, talk about him, and the first and one thing he mentions about Marcus is his kindness. 

He tells Coriolanus how when they were still classmates in Two, he hurt his finger really badly and Marcus helped him by bringing him a cup of snow he scooped from the windowsill. He says he did it without being prompted by anyone, without consulting anyone, not even the teacher, and without even being friends with Sejanus. 

That’s actually the very first thing Sejanus tells us about him. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t friends either. Marcus had no real reason to do it, especially considering how the Plinths were, and still are, deeply despised in Two, for having helped the Capitol win the war. He did it almost as a reflex, because that’s who he is as a person. 

And this pure, unconditional kindness, told by the one person who actually knew him, goes against the image of him everyone formed by just looking at him, against what everyone assumed because he’s district, he’s a tribute, and he’s tall and strong and broad, so he has to be dangerous and lethal, he will brutally kill everyone to save himself; he’s capable of it anyway.

As I already said, the Plinths are deeply despised in Two, Sejanus is a filthy traitor in his eyes, one who’s benefiting from a luxurious, safe life in the Capitol, thanks to blood money; blood of thousands of what were supposed to be his people, blood whose spillage made them lose the war and caused the realization of the Games, bringing Marcus to that very situation.

Sejanus doesn’t have to worry about whether or not he’s going to be able to fill his stomach everyday; whether he’ll be able to finish his studies or will have to drop out of school early, to go work to help sustain his family; whether the dangerous working conditions will be the cause of his early demise, or being sent to an arena to kill or be killed by a bunch of other children for amusement will be, and what will happen to his family once he’ll be gone. All of this thanks to his family’s betrayal.

No doubt he resents Sejanus and is angry at him, a part of him maybe even faults him a bit for everything, but he never takes it out on him. It would be easy to single him out, pick him and make him pay for this situation, since he can’t make the whole Capitol pay; take some sort of revenge on Strabo Plinth in the name of Two and Thirteen and all other Districts, by harming his son. 

Sweet Sejanus, who brings the tributes food when no one else thought about it, who keeps pleading with him to accept it, who tries to help them however he can, would probably let him do it. He would take the hit, metaphorical or not, because it’s clear he has guilt gnawing at him and would feel like he deserves it. And Marcus is definitely aware of it. 

But he never gets violent, physically nor verbally, never tries to attack him or spit insults or hate at him. Instead he just ignores him.

He had many chances to do harm, even to kill Capitol citizens and Peacekeepers as revenge, a small and trivial one, but still a revenge, and he had many chances to let his frustration and anger out on Sejanus and use him as a punching bag, but he never did, because despite what everyone assumed about him, that’s not the type of person he is.

PART THREE: SEJANUS 

Sejanus, whom I’ve already mentioned several times in this post, is another District boy with the ability to take lives, but who’s repulsed and disturbed by the mere idea of it. 

With Marcus and Reaper, it’s a matter of first impressions and then getting to actually know them and learn they’re not like they seemed. With Sejanus it’s the opposite. 

First thing we learn about him in the book, is his background: born in District 2, his father made fortune during the war and was able to buy his family a life in the Capitol. 

But the first thing we learn about him as a person, is that he’s shy and sensitive. 

Throughout the entirety of the book, over and over and over again, we see that he’s good, and kind, and gentle, and sweet and takes things so to heart. It’s constantly pointed out by the people around him. 

And it’s constantly shown to us by him as well, with the passion he puts into standing up against the dehumanization and mistreatment of District people; with how affected he is by these aspects and by the Games; with how he tries in every way he can to help the tributes; with how he made it his life mission to make things better for the Districts; with how he’s never mean or spiteful to people who bully and disrespect him.

Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes is at its very center a discussion on human nature. He (alongside Dr. Gaul) is the main character who explicitly talks about it, and he believes in the inherent goodness of humans and constantly advocates in favor of it. All the injustice and atrocities he witnessed and experienced, never made him change his mind or his actions, never made it so compassion and love weren’t his driving forces.

His heart is big, and kind, and pure. And he wears it on his sleeve all the time. He’s referred to as “emotional” and “compassionate”, his eyes are soulful, his face is incredibly expressive, and there’s so many instances in which he’s described as speaking with a voice so full of sentiment, so many instances of his eyes filling with tears, of him wiping his face cause they spilled out. 

It’s well established how good and uncorrupted he is, how devoted to humanity he is, how much he values life.

And then in the third part of the book, we learn he’s an excellent marksman, a natural one even, who has been training in shooting every week since he was tiny.

He’s so good, that the sergeant in Twelve, as to not lose someone with Sejanus’s level of ability, refuses to give him the recommendation he needs in order to train to become a medic, even when Sejanus purposefully shoots much worse than he’s capable of, to hide his talent. 

The boy who values life more than anything in the world, has the ability to take one even with his eyes closed.

When he arrived in Twelve, wearing on his body the signs of the toll that the Capitol, the Games and what happened to Marcus, had taken on his mental health; with the prospect of building a new life for himself in which he could help the world become a better place; of training to be a medic and save lives; Coriolanus noted he had a much lighter air to himself, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of him.

But when he is confronted with the reality that he is now a soldier and is expected to kill, Coriolanus says that his expression goes back to being as gloomy as it had been in the Capitol, the heavy weight now back on his shoulders. 

At dinner he doesn’t take a single bite of food, which is a behavior we’ve seen from him before, one he falls into when his mental health gets concerningly bad. And the reason is that he is terrified by the idea of having to kill someone, or someone dying because he can’t bring himself to shoot first. Because to him, every life is precious and none is disposable, and the possibility of being the cause of one being taken away, is an unbearable thought.

Reaper and Marcus had many chances and what could be considered reasons to kill, but they refused to. Sejanus, who is expected to kill because he’s a soldier and the best shooter, who would be punished, possibly even with execution, if he didn’t, refuses to. 

All three of them have the power to take lives with little effort but choose to cherish and honor them instead, choose kindness, choose humanity even over their own self preservation, proving both the Capitol and Crassus Snow’s statement about District people being bloodthirsty, wrong, by simply being their honest, uncorrupted selves until the end; by being truthful to who they are no matter what.

[kipperlillycopperkettle]

“as brutal as his name suggests.” or; on brutus.

the prologue, halsey // catching fire, suzanne collins // let dead dogs lie, silas denver melvin // for your own good, leah horlick // crybaby, caitlyn siehl // steverigers // unknown // not a common man, american psycho (original london cast recording) // fight club, chuck palahniuk // catching fire, suzanne collins // a study in grievances, sofia lavidalie // richard silken // the odyssey, trans. by emily wilson // foreign object, the mountain goats // fight club, chuck palahniuk // she's my winona, fall out boy // selected poems, anna akhmatova // mrbadfrog // shana roark // invisible monsters, chuck palahniuk // alpha dog, fall out boy // heel turn 2, the mountain goats // catching fire, suzanne collins // dog years, halsey // all eyes on me, bo burnham // heel turn 2, the mountain goats // sometimes, nick lutsko // the selected plays of hélène cixous; “black sail, white sail”, hélène cixous // the world of the hunger games

[everlarksquell]

it would’ve been amazing if the movie properly showed the friendship that katniss and johanna made in district 13. like? katniss and johanna motivating each other and training together to go to the capitol, katniss offering to be her roommate so the doctors would let johanna live outside of the hospital, katniss literally going to the woods and making a bundle for johanna because she noticed that, unlike her, she didn’t have anything from home… it’s all just so precious, and i wish the movie had portrayed it better.

[mockingjaysnakes]

SEJANUS & CORIOLANUS

"i'm so blameless, i'm choking on it. my father bought him for me, just so he could show me that i could never go back to 2".

"but being capitol is gonna kill me".

"so do something about it".

[aubdromeda]

#EVERLARK — “ real or not real? “

they mean so much to me omfg how I wish we got a book or just like a little TREAT a little EXERPT of peetas “recovery” in district 13 and what methods they used for them oh how I wish to just take a PEEK inside his MIND SUZANNE COLLINS PLEAAAASE PLEASE…..!!!Anyways peetas games by igsy on ao3 🤤 my lord they’re so good they’re canon in my head I don’t even CAREEE ugh they write peeta so well… anyways I tried to draw everlark with how I see them when I read the books/how I picture them in my head so I hope u like thissss 😊😊😊 I drew this from the scene in mockingjay where katniss sees peeta for the first time after being brought back and the DREAD I felt reading that part is REAL ok pls don’t flop first post whatever idk how to use tumblr im using my 5 year old amino knowledge on this one boys

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever: Year 0 (2/2)

I'm starting to think I'm stuck in a dream, cause we're young and we don't know better.

Summary: Cato comes home from winning the 74th Hunger Games, and Luna has to adapt to how such a thing changes not only their once-peaceful life, but Cato himself. WC: 7.5k words. Warnings: Canon divengence - Cato wins the 74th Hunger Games. Tension. Pregnancy. Luna is autistic, and we deal with quite a bit of autistic overstimulation here. A little bit of angst because of that. Fluff. Smut. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Smut. D/s undertones. Husband/Wife kink. Pregnancy. Pregnant sex. Praising kink. Dirty talking. A little bit of degrading kink. Orgasm control/denial. Smut.

Luna stayed there, unmoving, on the floor. She turned onto her side, curling up into a tighter ball, the plushness of the carpet keeping her comfortable.

She stayed in there for a long time before getting up and turning on the light inside, and just then realise the closet wasn’t exactly empty.

This one was enormous, easily the size of her bedroom back at her parents’ house. She stared for a moment, taking in the high ceilings, the built-in shelves, and rows upon rows of empty hangers, and it wasn’t filled all around, but there were enough clothes in there to surprise her.

At least ten dresses hung on display, delicate and impossibly feminine, all of them airy and light, as if they were meant to lift off the ground at the slightest breeze, all in pastel, soft tones.

She stepped closer, brushing her fingers along the soft fabric of one. It felt expensive, like they were for someone else much more important.

Not for her at all.

Luna peeked into the room before opening the door fully, and held her dress to her chest as she made sure it was empty, and peeked out through the curtain at the sound of people in the garden.

It was a nice garden. There were flowers in there and lights. Cato was out there, looking every bit the part of the charming victor as he spoke animatedly to the camera, his smile wide and seemingly genuine – though, if she knew him, that could be an act.

Lyme had told her about the Capitol, what it really could be like. If she was to marry Cato, she had to understand that they were the ones who dictated the terms. They wanted to craft a story, a fairytale of romance and triumph, and they had certainly been getting their wish.

And since her interview with Caesar – when Cato was one of the last tributes in the arena – they were getting it.

It had to be partially her fault, how easily she folded and gave them fuel. They wanted to make Cato interesting then, when it became clearer how he was going to win. He was not only a hero whose victory was not just a personal achievement, but part of a grand narrative. He won the games, and then he came home to collect his prize: his blushing bride.

Luna.

She watched him from behind the curtain quietly, not sure of what to even do as they kept rolling and laughing and entertaining. It felt like a lifetime until the crew finally left, and she was able to take a deep breath before slipping back into her dress.

She smoothed out the fabric nervously, and was about to leave when the door opened and Cato walked inside, completely stiff as he stepped inside.

Luna squeezed her fingers nervously, embarrassed and he huffed for a moment before clearly forcing himself to calm down.

“The closet?” he asked, his frustration barely masked. “Really?”

Luna he twisted her engagement ring.

“She was on my face,” she mumbled. “And touching me.”

“We talked about this,” Cato reminded her, his eyes strong as he stepped up to her. “You promised me you would behave well, that you could do it, and then I come home and you hide in the closet!”

She looked down at her feet, her skin burning in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she twisted the ring more.

“Do you know how lucky we are they even let you be here?” Cato hissed, snappy. “That they let you welcome me, and all you do is cry and hide!.”

She glanced up at him.

Didn’t he understand all that she had gone through?

The horror of watching him fight with two dozen people for his life in the Hunger Games? Waking up to see him covered with blood in the TV, not knowing if it was his or someone else’s, escaping death time and time again?

“We haven’t seen each other in weeks,” she shot back. “Of course I was crying. I spent half that time scared you might not come back.”

He stopped, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him.

“Everyone always knew I was gonna win,” Cato declared.

But he didn’t even sound like he believed in it.

And how could he? He had barely escaped the giant wolves – dogs? Beasts! - before his fight with Thresh.

She’d seen him almost fall down not once, but six times. It almost killed her!

If something had happened to him… Luna couldn’t even think off what would be of her.

“Well, I didn’t,” Luna mumbled, not looking at him as she crossed her arms tightly.

She couldn’t say it looking at his face – she knew she shouldn’t doubt him. As his wife, Luna should be his first fan and louder cheerer.

“You were expecting me to die?” he asked, a mix of hurt and disbelief in his tone.

She looked right back at him.

“I was afraid you were going to die!” she corrected him.

Cato exhaled heavily, and she turned away again just as he walked over, gently pulling her arm to uncross it.

“Well, I didn’t,” he said softly, parroting her words right back to her.

Luna looked away, but he moved his hand to her face, holding her by the chin and making her look at him.

“I’m here,” he said softly. “I didn’t die.”

She bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes again as she struggled to hold them back.

He moved his fingers up to her face, and ran his thumbs over her cheeks, careful.

“I’m sorry you felt like that.” he told her. “It must have been terrifying.”

Luna swallowed down, her throat tightening.

It was. Very much so.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, and that was all it took. Luna broke down into his chest, crying and whimpering like a child. Cato cradled her gently, holding her so tightly it was like he was afraid she would slip away.

They didn’t stay in that room.

Actually, after that day, the third floor just remained empty and untouched even by the staff.

The wedding preparations were… inexistent. Between the day Cato came back and the day of the wedding, a month later, Luna visited her home twice, spending a week there each just to get everything moving.

Mum was desolated that she had to leave, and Juno even cried at saying goodbye to her the day she officially left her bedroom – even after saying so many times she would love to be able to tear down her wall and make a mega room for herself now.

The studio was given back, and she gifted her old stone-cutting machine to some other aspiring sculptor, and tried on her dress for the first time two weeks before the actual wedding.

It was… terrible.

No, not terrible.

But it was strange.

Everything of the wedding was strange, like it was made for someone else – and it was; it was made for the Capitol, from start to end.

They skipped the bread ceremony, took their traditional vows away, and made it so different it was barely a wedding for Luna and probably anyone watching it in the district.

Yes, watching it. They made a wedding special about it and filmed every little thing – from the moment she had her dress on to the moment they closed the door of the top floor bedroom for their ‘wedding night’.

Luna didn’t remember a moment of it. The whole day was a blur of following instructions. And then, the two days after were a blur of trying to recover because she was so exhausted she could barely speak and couldn’t take a single brush of a hand against her arm, much less do anything a married couple was meant to do.

“Layers and layers of translucent chiffon and organza, gracefully cascading over the other on the skirt and sleeves,” Caesar Flickerman read on his card as the camera paned on an image of Luna herself smiling shyly to the screen on the TV show. “The bodice was embroidered with silver and pearls in the motif of flowers and took eight days of nonstop work to complete, that is fantastic, look at her.”

Luna was looking. And it wasn’t her – herself. The woman on the Wedding Special rerun was a stranger, decorated with so many shining things it almost hid the dull of exhaustion in her eyes.

“You looked like doll,” Cato rubbed his hand down her thigh, his touch very gentle. "They even made you blonde."

Luna was sat on his lap, her face hidden on his neck, her nose right where he used to have a beautiful mole.

“I was,” she sighed. “Ellyn just made me into a walking mannequin.”

Her hair was still growing out that colour change.

She glanced up at the screen, and the Bride was smiling at her Groom, slipping a ring into his finger with a shy smile.

“She looked straight out of a dream,” the commentator affirmed. “What was that nickname you gave her when we were talking?”

“The Capitol’s Delight,” Caesar declared openly.

Luna recoiled in discomfort, and Cato turned to look at her.

“You want me to turn it off?” he asked softly.

Luna sighed.

They hadn’t watched the special when it first aired, and she had no intention of watching it again now.

“We’ll be seeing them together soon on the Victory Tour!” Caesar’s voice boomed before she could respond. “Do you think she’ll have that marriage glow? She’s just so adorable, the way she looks at him.”

The commentator chuckled alongside him.

“Well, she’ll certainly have something new to show off,” he added, motioning toward his stomach in a crude gesture.

Her tongue soured.

“Please,” she mumbled.

Cato didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the remote, switched the TV off, and then turned back to her, his hand gently cradling the small curve of her belly where their baby grew.

They were having a boy — a very healthy, big boy. The doctors had told her that repeatedly, though one could barely tell by looking at her. She was ten weeks away from giving birth, and her belly barely showed it. Something wasn’t translating between the size of the baby and her own body - she was tall and strong, the doctors said. It was normal, apparently.

Cato was going to leave for his Victory Tour the day after tomorrow, and when Ellyn came to show her the dress she would be wearing to accompany him when stopped at their District to his way to the Capitol, the moment she put it on, she looked no more pregnant than she had on her wedding day.

“I don’t even look like I’m carrying him,” she mumbled, frustrated.

Cato’s fingers gently drifted to the spot where their boy usually kicked, tracing light circles over her belly.

“Well, he’s right there,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We’ve been seeing him every two weeks for months now, little Loony."

Luna chuckled, the silly nickname lifting some of the weight from her chest.

“Our little Prince,” she corrected with a teasing smile. “Cato II.”

His cheeks flushed pink, the name still embarrassing him. It had been her choice, something she’d been quietly thinking about ever since he returned;

“I still can’t believe you picked that name,” he muttered.

“You deserved it,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his jaw. “Our son deserves it too.”

Cato’s face softened at her words, but there was still that boyish nervousness, a side of him she adored to see. It meant he was still himself.

Slowly, he looked down and away from her, focusing on the baby before sighing.

“Speaking of him,” he spoke slowly. “And the tour.”

Luna focused on him again, frowning.

He would leave for the tour the day after tomorrow, and spend a day on each district.

Cato promised a lot of things. Little trinkets from every place – a lump of coal from 12, some fruit that was only ever available on 11, fish and pearls from 4… things like that. It was silly and adorable.

“I was talking to Ellyn,” he looked at her face, very serious. “And we talked about what you will be wearing when I stop at two.”

Luna exhaled.

Yes, she would be there with him at his stop at District 2. She would give him his flowers and his hero welcome.

“Yeah?”

He moved his hand a bit more, caressing her belly under the big shirt she wore for sleep.

“She told me to… tell you... to wear something for the day,” Cato spoke slowly.

Luna hardened herself, clenching her jaw. That didn’t sound good at all.

“Which would be?”

Cato swallowed down, exhaling.

“A belly,” he told her, his voice barely loud enough. “So you’ll look… bigger.”

Bigger.

More pregnant, they had probably said.

She could almost hear the Capitol’s stylist team talking — round and glowing, a perfect picture of maternal beauty. Not… this. Not her little bump that barely showed at all and looked like a bloat after lunch and not an actual baby.

She got up from his lap, not meeting his eyes as she put on her shoes again. It wasn’t like they could say anything, was it? It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

“Sure,” she mumbled, putting on her shoes. “Just tell her to bring it with the dress.”

Cato sighed, not moving from his spot on the couch.

"Luna," he called softly, his voice gentle, almost pleading. "Please."

But she didn’t listen to him, feeling her eyes already stinging with tears, and the lump in her throat tightened as she stepped away from him.

He hated to see her cry, they both knew that. What did falling into tears do? It didn’t help anything.

She stepped outside into the garden, the cold biting at her skin almost immediately, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she looked over the little strawberry bush the gardener had been nice enough to plan for them, boxed up in order to not infiltrate the soil.

Why couldn’t they just let her be?

She hadn’t won anything. She wasn’t a victor, she was just a random sculptor who happened to be married to one.

No other Victor’s family was expected to perform, and yet, they put all that on her.

The door to the house opened behind her, and she felt the big covers being put over her shoulders before Cato even spoke up, standing by her side.

“You know it’s not something I approve,” he murmured. “If it was for me, you’d have all the privacy you want. You wouldn’t have to show up, you wouldn’t have to wear those stupid clothes and that fucking…” he let out a long, angry breath, as if words alone couldn't express the size of his frustration.

Yeah, she knew that.

She didn’t doubt, even for a second, that if Cato had his way, she would never be subjected to the Capitol’s whims. But knowing that didn’t ease her own frustration.

If she didn’t have a choice in all this, then Cato — even with all his strength and status as a victor — had even less.

Luna’s hands tightened on the edge of the blanket, her knuckles turning white.

“They would ignore me if I was normal,” she breathed out, staring at the big fruit tree they hadn’t seen giving fruit yet.

“Normal,” Cato echoed quietly, his voice barely louder than a breath.

“Normal,” she looked at him, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

He had to know that.

She had heard it her whole life, how she wasn’t normal. How she was defective and would never be good enough.

"If I could perform, smile on cue, play the part like they want me to. If I didn’t hide the second someone wanted to talk to me, didn't flinch when they touched me... they would ignore me. I'd just be another wife, someone who would be blended into the background."

Cato’s jaw tensed as he looked down at her, the frustration evident in his eyes. He knew she was right. If she played along, if she gave them what they wanted—acted like the Capitol’s perfect little puppet… they wanted her because they knew she didn’t like the attention, because she wanted to blend in. They called her adorable because they knew she couldn’t help herself and it wasn’t an act!

Because she was odd.

“You wouldn’t be yourself, then,” Cato spoke suddenly, breaking the silence.

Luna turned her head slightly, confused as she met his eyes. Before she could ask, Cato leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her temple, his warm breath against her cold skin.

“If you weren’t… yourself,” he repeated, his voice more resolute this time. “The way you are now? That’s what makes you you.”

Luna blinked, trying to process his words.

“It's what’s right about you, your oddness,” he affirmed. “Normal girls are boring.”

She chuckled, feeling her heart warming up.

“I wouldn’t love you more if you were any different,” he told her. “If it helps.”

Luna smiled, breathing.

It did, a little bit.

“Let’s get inside,” he patted her shoulder. “It’s cold here, you don’t want to catch a chill.”

He led her inside, his hand warm against her back as he ushered her back to the couch where they’d been before. Cato didn’t hesitate — he pulled her back onto his lap, just like before, wrapping his strong arms around her as if shielding her from the world. Luna didn’t resist; she tucked her head into the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent that hadn’t changed since the first time she’d been close to him.

They could have touched his face, but he was still himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles on her thigh. He paused, as if savouring the words before speaking again. “My wife.”

The word set warmly in his chest – Cato loved repeating it into her ear, and now they didn’t need to hide that.

She shivered, feeling moving right up her skin, making her breath hitch. Cato knew exactly how sensitive she’d become lately, and he seemed to fucking adore this.

“My very beautiful wife,” his touch climbed higher, and his fingers ran over the back of her thighs, tickling her.

“Cato,” she squirmed, her voice coming out in a half-whine.

But he only hummed, feigning innocence as he leaned closer, his face hovering near hers.

“Yeah?”

His breath was warm against her cheek, as his eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint she knew all too well.

Her face burned and she cast her eyes down, but Cato simply grinned, nuzzling his nose against hers, and his hands moved higher up, grazing the sensitive spot on her inner thigh, and she parted her legs just a little, instinctively.

“What are you thinking?” he taunted her gently, brushing his fingers against the inside of her thigh from behind.

“Cato…” she took a hand up, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt

He just pouted teasingly.

Luna leaned in, closing the space between them, her lips barely an inch away from his before he pulled back.

“You have to ask,” he reminded her.

She glared at him.

He was such a tease.

“Kiss me,” she mumbled.

Her husband’s smile widened into a bit grin before he finally leaned in and closed the distance. His lips met hers, soft but insistent, and she melted into the kiss, moving her hand up and around his neck

There he was, firm and delicious – damn intoxicating. And maybe his lips felt a little bit different, but what he knew to do with them was still always perfect.

Cato moved his hand around her thigh, and she stretched one of her legs to give him space to touch her between them, but he just caressed her knee, dragging his teeth over her lower lip as he pulled back.

Well, at least he tried.

She pushed her fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling him closer again, and he met her right away again.

Cato devoured her as much as she devoured him, until her lips were aching and she was so hot that the feeling of his hand just caressing her knee was torture.

He pulled away from her lips, taking his kisses down to her jaw, and she was panting when he start giving her jaw little nibbles. And his hand hadn’t fucking moved.

“Cato,” she whined. “Your hand…”

His tongue licked up the skin of her neck, and she gasped when he dragged his teeth over her sensitive spot.

“My hand?” he cooed back.

Luna spread her legs more, giving up on being subtle.

She had barely anything on – a big old shirt of his and her panties, nothing much.

“Please,” she sighed, closing her eyes when he sucked a bruise on her skin.

He chuckled right against her neck, his hand travelling up, and she nearly cried in relief as his fingers caressed her skin, up her sensitive inner thigh and to her cotton underwear as he sucked onto her skin.

“Yes, please,” she panted.

“Right here?” he hummed, rubbing his knuckle over her seams.

She arched her hips, chasing the touch, but he took it away just as she tried to.

“Please,” Luna whined. “Husband.”

His knuckle ran over her pussy lips and pressed against her clit, and she couldn’t help her moan.

“Wife,” he whispered back.

And he pulled his hand away!

Luna reached for his wrist, completely impatient, and he laughed.

“So impatient!” he clicked his tongue.

She kicked the couch, and he pushed her hand away from his own, holding her in place.

“Behave, wife,” he taunted her.

She pouted, and his touch moved right up her torso, pushing her shirt up with it, and Luna knew too well the way he hoisted her up with an arm on her back, dragging the fabric over her belly and her chest right as his lips came to her tit.

Her breasts were so sensitive since he came back. Maybe even before, but she hadn’t paid attention.

“Cato,” she moaned.

His lips curled against her skin as his teeth dragged over her poor nipple as she squirmed, hot between her thighs.

He didn’t relent, sucking onto her, holding her in place as she writhed in his grip. By the time he changed to the other side, she was moaning wordlessly and her underwear was probably fucking soaked.

“Cato,” she reached for his arm, his grip too strong to escape.

Cato just hummed against her chest, licking up her skin and flicking her nipple before sucking her flesh into his mouth.

Luna tried to close her legs, but he was much faster, slapping her inner thigh and spreading her more as she cried at the sting, not even taking his lips away.

Fuck, he was so fucking mean. Her pussy clenched around nothing, empty as his fingers squeezed her.

“Cato,” she cried, arching her body. “Please. Please.”

His hand was free, couldn’t he just fucking touch her?

Cato let her breast go, his chin wet with saliva when he looked up at her, his eyes dangerous and predatory, and she gasped when he slapped her poor thigh again, holding her so tightly she could barely squirm.

“Ask nicely,” he commented.

She whined, spreading her legs as far as they would go, trying to thrust her hips and make his hand move higher.

“Please,” she begged. “Cato, please.”

Didn’t he know what she wanted?! What she needed?

He raised his hand, and instead of slapping her thigh, he smacked her right between her legs, practically over her clit, and she cried out and jumped in surprise.

It was maybe the third time he did that, and fuck it if it didn’t make her brain melt.

“With words,” Cato corrected her. “Not trying to shove that needy pussy on my hand.”

Her whole face burned in embarrassment as she panted, trying to hide her face in his neck, but he didn’t let her, resting his forehead on top of hers, looking into her eyes.

“Go on,” Cato nearly purred. “Be a good wife.”

She could feel herself getting wetter at that

“Please,” she closed her eyes, her voice as soft as it could be. “Touch me.”

He didn’t relent, rubbing his nose on hers.

“Where?” his fingers caressed her inner thighs. “Where do you want it?”

God.

“My pussy,” she whimpered. “Please, Cato.”

He moved his hand up slowly, his knuckle caressing her up and down.

“Like this?” Cato asked, all sweet.

Oh, she wanted to fucking cry.

“Please,” Luna whined. “You know it!”

He kissed just her chin sweetly.

“I do?” her husband asked, practically fucking cooing at her, like she was a puppy. “I know what you want?”

She felt her eyes all wet, filling up with tears.

“Yes,” she practically whispered.

“You want me to touch your pussy?” he pressed his knuckle on her clit.

Luna whimpered.

“Inside me,” she pleaded, panting whining.

He hummed along, not stopping his slow caresses.

“And what do you want inside you?” he circled her clit mindlessly.

She couldn’t even speak, thrusting her hips forward for more pressure, but he took his hand away.

“No, darling, use your words,” Cato insisted. “I can’t read your mind yet.”

Luna grabbed his wrist, clenching her hand around it.

“Take it off,” she whispered. “Please?”

He licked her lip and moved slowly, hooking his finger on the gusset of her panties and chuckling.

“Oh, my wife,” he purred. “Look at that.”

She wanted to hide even more as he pulled her panties down her thighs and legs, obediently letting him strip her.

Cato moved his head away from her, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him moving the fabric in his hand.

“Look at this,” he smirked, showing it to her. “I buy you all that pretty fancy underwear and what do you do with it? You soak it up.”

He clicked his tongue and Luna’s neck burned along with her face in her embarrassed flush. The gusset was shining completely, she couldn’t even look. But she did, and Cato didn’t even think before sticking out his tongue and licking up her wetness from the fabric, and she whimpered, even emptier now.

“Poor wife,” he looked at her face. “So wet you’ve ruined the pretty panties.”

Luna panted, trying not to pout more, and gasped when Cato moved his hand between her legs, caressing her wet lips with two fingers, and she felt her eyes moisten as small tears slipped down her face.

“My poor darling,” he mocked her, circling her entrance with the pad of his finger, and she moaned softly, unable to keep her sounds down. “I know better, don’t I?”

She panted, unable to tear her eyes from his.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Cato.”

His thumb gave her clit a wide circle.

“Don’t I?” he insisted.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Cato, yes.”

He pushed two fingers into her slowly, rubbing against the sensitive entrance of her cunt, and she practically sobbed in response as he curled them against her sweet spot.

Luna couldn’t help how loud her moan was, and he fucking mocked her by opening his mouth the way she did as she moaned.

“Like that?” he purred. “You like that, wife?”

She couldn’t even answer him, his fingers taking her whole mind, and he grinned when she only nodded.

“So pretty,” Cato licked his lips, his eyes moving right down her body.

The praise climbed up her spine and made her brain tingle.

“Why don’t you take that off, my pretty girl?” he told her. “So I see all of you while I give you what you need?”

She barely thought before tugging on her shirt, and though it was a bit of a struggle, she took it off and tossed it away, earning a very intense look from him.

It would never tire her, the way Cato looked at her like she was the hottest woman he had ever set his eyes on.

He moved his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes right on her as he moved his lips down to her chest again, kissing her raw nipple again before taking it in his mouth again, sucking and biting, making her brain go haywire with the double stimulation. Her eyes outrightly rolled back when he pressed his palm against her clit, and she couldn’t help the big moan that came out of her lips.

It was fucking heaven.

He played her like her body was an instrument, too well-versed in it to keep her wanting at all, and soon Luna was a squirming mess.

“You hear that?” he asked, his fingers moving fast, and it took her mind a minute to process what he was trying to make her listen to.

Squelching?

Wet-

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned.

Herself.

She squirmed, unable to keep her walls from clenching around him as she tried to hide her face into his neck. But he was faster, pushing his fingers into her hair and holding her right in place.

“What a good wife I have, don’t you think?” Cato praised as the knot in her belly tightened. “Taking my fingers so well in her needy cunt, like a good, good, good wife.”

Each time he repeated good she clenched more.

His eyes were right on hers, the beautiful blue almost gone in a pool of darkness, and she struggled to keep her own eyes open.

“No, no,” he pressed the heels of his hand against her clit when they fell closed. “Look at me.”

Her whole body roared in response.

“Cato,” she grabbed his shirt.

Please, she was so fucking close.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commanded. “I wanna see.”

Luna squirmed more, her vision blurring with the tears.

“Please,” she stuttered. “Cato, please.”

She inhaled deeply, nearly dizzy as he kept moving, fucking her in and out, rubbing her everywhere.

“You want to cum on my fingers?” he asked, his voice too soft against her moans, too controlled when her mind was all his and not hers at all. “Is that why you’re squeezing me so sweetly?”

Luna nodded, panting, desperately clinging to him.

“Yes, Cato, please.”

He moved faster, keeping his eyes right on her, and Luna’s whole body just gave in to him, melting as she was pushed closer and closer and closer to the edge, and she could practically felt her foot sleeping over it before he fucking pulled away.

She cried out at the loss of his fingers, her whole body shaking with the unfulfilled pleasure, and he laughed cruelly at her reaction.

Cato moved like a blink of an eye, so fast that her melted mind couldn’t notice. All she knew was that he was holding her wrists together, her hips were pinned down and her back was against his chest.

“Cato!” she cried out, trying to free her own hands as hips thrusting against nothing. “Please!”

His cock twitched against her ass, already hard in his sleeping pants.

“Please, what, my darling?” he spoke against her ear. “You had asked me to touch you, I did. I gave your pretty pussy my fingers, I touched your pretty clit and sucked you pretty tits… what else could you want?”

Her voice was broken and raw when she found it.

“I want to cum,” she pleaded, her head falling on his shoulder. “Please.”

He laughed, completely amused by her suffering.

“Oh, my poor wife,” Cato lamented. “You want to cum? You do?”

Luna pressed her ass against him, trying to at least get him to break.

“Please, please,” she pleaded. “Cato.”

He raised her hands, moving them all the way to behind his neck.

“Keep them right there,” he commanded, kissing her cheek.

Luna squirmed. God, please, she couldn’t take more teasing.

“It is a craving, my little wife?” he caressed her torso, running his hand over her belly before going up to her tits, squeezing both. “Are you craving cock?”

He pinched her nipples, tugging on them.

“Am I keeping a poor,” he spoke slowly, twisting them. “Sweet, needy, pregnant woman from her biggest craving?”

She tried to move her hips more, but he just moved a hand down, holding her in place.

“My darling, poor you,” he mocked her.

His fingers came right between her legs again, caressing her faintly.

“I mean, you are making a big, big mess,” he noted. “Got my pants all messed up already, my darling.”

She pushed her fingers into his hair to stop herself from moving her own hands.

“What are you going to say to the cleaner?” Cato asked mockingly. “That my wife is ruining her underwear and my clothes because she can’t stop craving cock?”

Her whole face burned, and he exhaled longingly.

“Well, I can’t deny a craving,” Cato sighed, dramatic. “I did promise you that, right? Can you imagine if the baby came out looking like… well. Me.”

Well, Luna didn’t have time to laugh or think about if the old midwife joke was funny or not, he was already moving her.

The couch stretched under her body as he lied her down on it, expanding to at least a small bed – the size of the bed they first had in her little studio.

Cato slipped to her side, turning her to her side and slipping right behind her, moving his lips right to her neck.

“Say please again, darling?” he kissed her earlobe. “Please, husband, fuck me with your cock?”

She closed her eyes, melting as his hand came came around her side, squeezing her breast.

“Please, husband,” Luna moaned. “Fuck me with your cock?”

He let out an amused chuckle behind her, so soft she only knew it because she felt it.

“So obedient,” he praised her, squeezing her neck, pinching her nipple, tugging and twisting it for effect, making her moan in reaction.

“Cato,” she panted.

“Shh,” he kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, my darling, you were so good, weren’t you? Waited for me so well…”

He moved his free hand down, and Luna’s eyes fell closed as she felt his cock brushing against her wet lips, and Cato teased her with the tip, up to her clit and down to her entrance before going up again.

“Please,” she whined, reaching for his arm. “Please, no more teasing.”

She couldn’t take it. Please.

“My poor sweet wife,” Cato kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, it’s okay...”

The tip of his cock finally – finally, God, fuck – breached her.

He pushed inside so patiently it burned her up, and the sound that left her lips was a raw moan – desperate really, but she couldn’t control it.

Cato moaned into her neck right before taking his hand up again, pressing her whole body against his.

“Like, this, darling?” he moved his hips slowly, fucking her ever so gently.

Luna’s eyes practically rolled back.

“Cato,” she pleaded.

But he just adjusted her to make it easy to touch both her breasts, and Luna gasped out when he simply moved back to playing with her nipples, running his short nails over the tips and making her mad with pleasure and frustration.

“Love how sensitive these have become,” he bit her earlobe. “Could spend a whole da playing with them, making my sweet wife so needy.”

Luna clenched around him, moving her hips, trying to thrust them back to his.

“Please,” she cried, breathless, trying to grab his hand and push down between her legs. “Cato, please.”

His grip was soft enough she could drag his hand down her torso and to her pussy, and Cato chuckled into her neck, slapping her thigh.

“Please, please, please,” he mocked her. “Don’t I have my cock inside you, wife?”

She whined, trying to move his hand again, but he didn’t budge, pushing his cock all the way in slowly and pulling out just as gently.

“I was so excited, thinking all about the ways I can touch you and make you feel good,” Cato taunted her. “How I would spend my day worshipping your tits, making you cum just from them...”

Luna felt herself squeezing him just from the thought of it.

“But you are so impatient,” he slapped her other thigh. “So demanding…”

He moved the hand he had on her breast up, wrapping it around her neck, and she felt her whole body twitching.

It was how he did it, how he teased her when they were like that.

A hand on her neck and another on her clit. He never squeezed or hurt her – it was about power.

“What do you want?”

Well, he knew what she wanted. He always knew.

And he never gave in.

“I want to cum,” she pleaded again. “Cato, please.”

It wasn’t fair.

He turned her head to make her look at him, and Luna practically melted when their eyes met.

“Of course,” Cato gave her lips a little peck. “How can I ever deny you?”

And then he did it all at once.

His hips picked up pace as his finger came right to her clit, and she practically screamed in reaction to him, fighting to keep her eyes on his as he gave in to her pleas.

“Like this, wife?” he practically growled.

The muscles of her torso tightened in reaction.

“Yes, Cato, yes.”

She fucking ascended into the high of space.

Luna still remembered when they were starting, when he was a bit too big and she was a bit too nervous, but how eager he was for this – for what they had now.

“Always takes me so fucking well,” he rubbed her clit in tight circles. “Always so good for my cock, aren’t you? It’s why you’re giving me a baby.”

Her eyes nearly crossed, the pleasure pumping in her blood.

“My sweet darling, my sweet wife,” Cato moaned into her sin. “Drenched every single time I get inside her, so easy to arouse… just a couple of kisses and firm touches, right baby? Almost like you want me to put another baby inside you already.”

Luna moaned out, the thought making her drift even more.

Another baby, yes. He could give her as many babies as he wanted.

“Let’s make you cum first,” Cato rubbed his nose on hers. “Get that sweet cunt to milk me.”

Her toes curled against the soft fabric of the couch, and his finger didn’t stop, smart and trained on her body, and she shook under him.

“Cato,” she pleaded, feeling the knot in her belly so tight it was all she could feel.

“Go on, darling, cum on my cock.”

Maybe she said his name – maybe she just said something that didn’t make any sense in English. Luna just became a mess, her cries flowing out in pants as she rolled her hips, desperate, floating.

“There you go, there you fucking go,” Cato slammed his cock into her, hips hitting her ass so hard and fast the sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the room.

And Cato didn’t stop.

Not with his hips, not with his fingers, and he took his hand from her neck to play with her nipples again, teasing and twisting and taunting her beyond her mind’s power of processing.

He was everywhere and everything at once.

It overwhelmed her in the first few times – how big and good it felt when he focused on her, so eager.

And it overwhelmed her in a completely different way now.

Luna could barely do more than breathe and moan, limp, being thoroughly fucked and used by him.

“Please,” she panted. “Please, it’s too much.”

Cato’s fingers twisted her poor nipple, and she yelped in shock.

“I can’t-”

“Again,” he commanded, the circles on her clit tight and fast. “You’re gonna cum again.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t help the way her whole body sobbed as he pused her further and further, completely out of control.

“Ca- ah,” she cried.

He slammed himself into her hard and tight.

“Cum on my cock again.”

Luna did so, her throat dry and her cheeks wet when she did, and Cato squeezed her breast so tightly it was bound to leave a bruise.

She was still riding her high when he pushed her and spread her legs wide open, slamming his cock into her as his hand held her hips in a bruising hold, hurting her deliciously.

His face came to her neck and he sunk his teeth tight into her skin, moaning right into it as he filled her to the god damn brim.

He kept fucking her, slowly down little by little, into they were just wrapped around one another quiet, panting, and she rested against his chest when Cato leaned in and kissed her tear stained cheeks, probably tasting them.

“I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling her skin. “I love you.”

She rested her headon his shoulder, panting and sniffing as Cato rubbed and kissed her skin, and she squeezed his shoulders when he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up to go to bed.

They had taken the biggest bedroom on the second floor, right beside his office and across a nice bathroom.

It was better than the top floor room – much closer to everything in the house, less isolated and with way less empty space.

When the baby was born, they were going to keep his crib by their bed, and there was a room nearby when little Cato was old enough to stay in his own bed.

Luna was half-sure they'd spend years with their little Prince between them in the bed anyway, even after he was weaned out.

Caro held her for a long time before leaving her, and Luna exhaled as she rested on the cool mattress, feeling the sweat drying on her skin, and opened her eyes when he came back into the room.

Oh, he was a vision. Tall and strong, chiseled like he was sculpted by hand on every little inch of his body.

She tried to keep it off her mind that in some ways, he was.

"Open up," he spoke softly, coming to her.

Luna spread her legs, and winced in surprise when he cleaned her skin with a soft warm cloth - she was still sensitive!

"So sensitive..." he spoke softly, running it over her thighs. "My enduring mystery of a woman..."

She chuckled, but kept herself in place, and he kissed her ankle before stepping away.

Luna spread herself on the bed for a moment, relaxing on the cool, soft sheets.

They had good sheets.

He came back and slipped into bed by her side, settling a little lower, resting his head right by her belly before cradling it in his big hand.

Luna looked down at him, and his eyes distant as he ran his fingers over her side.

"Is he awake?"

She chuckled. Oh, God, she hoped not!

Their baby was a little bit of a night owl. He usually woke up around eleven at night and made sure she knew he was unsatisfied that the night was for sleeping.

“No,” she reached down, petting his hair. “But I’m sure he’ll be awake soon.”

Cato didn’t say anything, only brushing his lips against her skin.

“Do you think he’ll like me?” he asked suddenly, raising his eyes to meet hers.

Luna’s shoulders fell in surprise, and she felt herself softening as she petted his hair.

“Of course he will!” she affirmed.

But Cato shook his head, looking away from her.

“I hate my dad’s guts,” he reminded her. “It might be a family curse.”

She moved her hand down to his cheek, caressing his skin, but he refused to meet her gaze.

“Your father deserves to have his guts hated,” she reminded him.

Luna knew enough about Mr Hadley, and she was very glad that even when he returned from his tenure as a Peacekeeper, he would be far away from them.

He would never meet their baby, and he wouldn’t ever insert his bitterness into their little family.

Cato kissed her belly slowly, as if he was doing it to their baby.

Luna ran her fingers up to his hair again, breathing out slowly.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

She knew that face of his.

But Cato didn’t answer for a long time.

“The nightmare,” he mumbled.

Luna swallowed down, closing her eyes.

He had many nightmares since the games.

The Trackerjackers, the explosion of the mines, the death of Clove, the mutants, the fight with Thresh…

But that wasn’t what was he was speaking of. It was an old nightmare, not from the games.

“His hands,” he hissed, eyes completely unfocused as his face curled in anger and he too his own hands to his neck. “Squeezing her as she fought him, like she was some enemy. Not his wife!”

Cato almost spat the word, and Luna was quick to move down, pulling him up, holding his face in her hands.

She caressed his cheeks as he grimaced, never one to cry, but she just knew him. She knew it hurt.

Luna kissed his skin, all over his face – every bit she would reach.

“You’re not him,” she affirmed, emphatic. “You’ll never be him.”

[balladofthe101st]

the capitol would've loved speirs in the hunger games

[vampirehizzies]

THE HUNGER GAMES | ENOBARIA

Let them have a taste of their own medicine.

[kald-dal-art]

Finally after so long I have an access to a scanner so have some of my THG/TBOSAS drawings from my sketchbooks, so hope you enjoy these

[cloverskentwells]

CLOVE, district 2. fancast: danielle rose russell

The competition will be far beyond my abilities. Boys who are two to three times my size. Girls who know twenty different ways to kill you with a knife."