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spartanguard · 5 years

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bewitched (mermay)

from @phiralovesloki:

MerMay, yay! *cough cough* smut *cough cough* maybe mermaid witch Emma or something if you don't have a universe you'd like to set it in.

Well, this took much longer than I thought it would, but here is the first prompt for Mermay! Thank you so much for sending it!

Summary: Captain Hook has nothing else to live for...until a mermaid winds up on his ship. She just might be the new lease on life he needed—and he for her—if she’s telling the truth...

rated M (i had to) | 3.8k ish

Oh, they were failures, every one of ‘em, the whole crew. What were they thinking, bringing that aboard? They should’ve set it free, cut the net and cut their losses; t’would have been a better fate than whatever they’d just welcomed to their deck.

They knew what could happen. All good sailors knew the stories. And most of ‘em had first-hand knowledge of what the blasted things could do.

Sorceresses, witches, sirens—that’s all mermaids were; pretty faces covering up the horrors underneath.

Shoulda killed her right away, they should’ve. But they didn’t. And she’d seduced the captain without a second thought.

They’d never seen him go so soft so fast; he wasn’t usually so taken with a pretty face, but one look at her and they swore—they could see the magic take hold in his eyes as she cast her spell on him.

Shapeshifting demon that she was, she stood on two legs and he led her into his cabin. And gods only knew what they were doin’ down there.

Bloody fools, they were, all of ‘em. May the gods have mercy on Hook’s soul.

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“Cap’n! We’ve got something!” had been the call.

Killian glanced up from his navigational charts at the helm, watching as the crew hauled up a fishing net. “I should hope so, unless you’d rather not eat tonight,” he called back. Sometimes, he wondered if he was a ship’s captain or a babysitter.

“I don’t think we can eat this, sir.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that; just what had they found? Hopefully something of value; gods only knew how low the coffers were getting.

He passed control of the wheel over to his first mate and hopped down the quarterdeck, making his way over to where the men were bringing the net aboard. Something much larger than any fish was writhing inside, trying to break free.

A few men backed away warily when it fell onto the deck with a plop, while one of the more bold pulled his weapon from his belt. “Want me to kill it, sir?”

Slowly, Killian stepped through the circle around their catch to see just what was causing these reactions; he could think of few creatures that could do so. And once he saw the long, glittering tail, he knew why: it was a mermaid.

Nearly every member of the crew had seen firsthand what those aquatic demons were capable of in Neverland; it was usually their policy to stay far from the sirens, and if any dared engage with them, to kill them on sight. He loathed the beings, having lost more than a few good men to their treachery.

This wasn’t Neverland, but still—his experiences with the mercreatures of this realm hadn’t been stellar either; the guilt of his interaction with Ursula still hung on him. Which likely meant this one was no friend. But after weeks at sea with little company but their own, and little to do but wait for a ship to pillage, there was no reason they couldn’t garner a bit more entertainment out of this one before deciding its fate.

“At ease, mate; that’s no way to treat a valued guest on our ship,” he instructed with a wink. “Loosen the net; let’s see what we have here.”

A few of the braver souls crept nearer and tugged at the ropes, pulling the net away from the still-wriggling beast. And when she was finally freed of her bondage, well—that’s when Killian’s life turned on its head in an instant.

She was beautiful, of no doubt—they all were. It was hard to garner the color of her hair, wet as it was, but her tail was a shimmering green and her creamy skin glowed in the moonlight. But it wasn’t her appearance that took his breath away, no—it was her eyes.

They were a stunning shade of jade that seemed to be illuminated from within, and possibly were, for all he knew, but there was more to it than that. There was something all too familiar in her eyes: the look one gets when they’ve been left alone. He saw it each time he peered in the looking glass, but for the first time ever, he’d seen it in another’s gaze.

He watched as the anger and ire etched on her expression melted into something akin to confusion and awe as she met his stare; if he had to guess, she was seeing the same thing. At least, he hoped she was.

Something deep inside stirred for the first time in countless years; maybe it was his soul, or possibly his heart. He wasn’t sure which, but he did know one thing—he didn’t want to release her just yet.

Gods, he must look a boyish fool; he was vaguely aware of the starry-eyed way he was still staring and the soft smile pulling at facial muscles that hadn’t been used in quite some time. He heard some snickering from the crew—and only just realized that her toplessness was likely the cause. If they thought that was the source of his ardor, it would certainly fit the reputation he’d forged; he was alright with them thinking so.

But the only thing that could draw his attention from her eyes was the faint glow that burst from her tail for a moment, and he watched as the fin and scales became skin and legs. Confidently, she stood, reaching a few inches shorter than him at her full height. Up close, her eyes truly were luminescent.

“Welcome aboard, milady,” he murmured softly. “How might we be at your service?”

The crew made quiet complaints in the background, but knew not to speak out. And he hardly cared; he only wanted to hear her reply.

“Perhaps we could talk in private?” she suggested, her voice as clear and refreshing as the ocean she emerged from.

He was certainly amenable to her idea. “It’d be my pleasure, love,” he answered, holding out his hand to her. She slipped her dainty fingers into his palm, a more perfect fit than he dared to think too much on, and he carefully guided her out of the throng of men and toward the ladder to his cabin below.

Oh, he heard the crew’s protests all right, as he led this beautiful creature to his quarters. He knew what they likely presumed and were probably plotting: some way to free him from the clutches of the she-demon who’d ensnared him in her magical hold. Let them scheme and conspire; as long as they didn’t interrupt, he hardly minded.

Whether it was a spell, or simply her countenance that had drawn his attention, it didn’t matter to him. Whatever was about to happen, he’d welcome it as obligingly as he’d received her. After so many years alone on an empty quest, there was nothing she could do to him that wouldn’t be a satisfying change of pace, even if that meant his own demise.

But, in a rare moment of optimism, he found himself looking forward to whatever came next.

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Ah, humans. They were so superstitious. At least, the ones Emma with which came into contact were; sometimes, she wondered if the land-dwellers were as ignorant in their beliefs as the sailors were, but if it meant she could mostly live in peace, she didn’t question it too much.

In fact, she’d been counting on their inherent (and not altogether unfounded) fear of her kind to work in her favor in this encounter. She hadn’t noticed the net as she was swimming—a hazard of being on her own, but she usually fared alright—and was being pulled up before she’d realized what was going on. And she didn’t even have to say a word before the men began to cower, and thought for sure this would be a brief encounter.

Until she laid her eyes on him. Damn, was he a sight! Tousled dark hair, bright blue eyes, a well-shaped form—he was nearly as gorgeous as any merman; it was rare to find such beauty in humans. But that wasn’t all, no: there was something familiar in his gaze that paused her in her tracks and made her think that maybe, just maybe, this human was worth not murdering.

Now in his cabin, he was flitting about nervously, opening drawers in search of...something.

“Apologies, love; just trying to find something for you to wear,” he said politely as he dug through a particularly stuffed, musty-smelling drawer.

“Why?” she asked.

He rose from his hunched-over position and cocked his head in confusion. “You mean you’ve no desire to cover yourself?”

She smirked. “What—you don’t like what you see?” She bit back a laugh as she saw crimson rise in the man’s cheeks. “Most men do.”

“It’s definitely not that, milady,” he assured her. “I was aiming for your own comfort.”

“So you do like what you see,” she flirted back, moving closer. The rumors about her kind were numerous, she knew, and most of them false. But they could perform small bits of magic, and were renowned for their skills in the art of seduction—but only on those who wish to be seduced. Even though she could tell it wasn’t working on the captain, it was her default mode; better to keep him on his toes than to let him see too much of herself (emotionally, at least).

“I can’t lie—you are indeed a marvelous specimen.” He stepped toward her advances, but stopped short of entering her personal space. “But is that really why you asked to be alone?”

His intense gaze bore into her, submerging her into the oceanic depths of his irises like the body of water they so resembled. She felt oddly exposed, though, instead of the usual comforting embrace of the sea. To be honest, she didn’t know why she’d wanted to be alone with him; she could chalk it up to simple curiosity, but something told her that he’d read through the lie.

“I can offer you what you want,” she finally replied. “Surely there must be something?” She shifted closer to him again.

“And what is it you think I desire?”

“Riches, fame, revenge,” she began to list, noticing the way he stiffened on her last suggestion. “Ahh, there it is. You want vengeance?” He was silent, looking away from her—almost angry, but slightly ashamed. She moved forward, close enough to smell him—leather and rum and the familiar salty tang of the sea. “I can get you a weapon to ensure you achieve it, if you wanted.”

“I appreciate the offer, love, but you’re a bit too late for that.” He stepped away from her again. For someone who clearly found her attractive, he was making a conscious effort to keep some space between them. “Afraid someone got to that before me.”

For the first time, she noticed the hook where his left hand was supposed to be, and it all clicked. “You were after the Dark One.” It was common knowledge that someone new had taken up that mantle recently. It was also well-known that the infamous Captain Hook had long been trying to find a way to kill the previous holder of that title, though his tale had been lost to legend over time.

Emma was the last one to scoff at fairy tales, though, given that she was a bit of one, too.

He didn’t react to her statement, just continued to stare forlornly at the floor. And that was when it hit her: he was just as lonely as she was. Even if he had his whole crew up there, he was definitely isolated, closed-off—just like she was.

Her heart broke for him a bit, because she knew that feeling—of being adrift, wondering where you belonged in the world, or with who. She didn’t know how many years it had been since she’d know family or friends. Merfolk weren’t meant for solitude any more than humans were, and yet, here she was, with him. It was insane, but there was one thing she could offer him, and it might just help her out, too.

“Well, then,” she started, sauntering toward him once more. “Perhaps I could offer you...release?”

His head whipped around and his eyes grew wide. “Beg your pardon?”

She giggled; she should have known he’d read the double entendre. “If you’d like, I can set you free from all this. I can take you with me.”

Understanding settled in as his face relaxed. “Do you mean…?”

She nodded. “Yeah, under the surface.”

He swallowed and his brow furrowed as he mulled it over. “Is that why you wanted to see me down here?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Is that why you went with me?”

“Maybe.” He licked his lips, but she could tell he was still apprehensive. “What would you need to make it happen?”

She was tired of standing on principle and moved close to him, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. “You only need to give yourself to me.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “Body or soul? Because I’m not sure the latter is worth all that much.”

That sent a pang through her heart, but she covered up the emotion with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. Just...lay with me; make a vow to me. And I can set you free.”

Static tension was building in the space between them as he thought it over. But she knew when he’d made his decision by the way his eyes flitted to her lips, and then his met hers in a surge of passion and electricity.

He wasn’t the first man she’d been with, not by a long shot, but it was the first time she’d been kissed like that: at once firm and soft, insistent and gentle. She molded against his body to deepen it, the heat of him radiating even through his thick garments.

“Why do you humans wear so many coverings?” she asked on a breath; she could feel the firmness of his erection through his trousers but could do little for it but grind her pelvis against the bulge.

“Because we’re not all as beautiful as you, love.”

“Well, you are.”

He chuckled—a deep thing that vibrated from his chest to hers and curled her toes with want. “I know.” His hand had settled on her waist while they kissed, but now was sliding up her side to cup her breast. “Perhaps you’d like to assist me in removing the offending garments, then?” He swiped his broad thumb over her nipple, making her back arch and press her further into his arousal.

She didn’t answer; she just got to work, pushing the heavy leather coat off his shoulders and over his strong arms until it fell to the floor, then undoing the clasps of his vest while he tugged at the laces of his pants and placed scruffy kisses in her neck. Not many mermen had beards, and few of the humans she’d been with; she found a thrill in the way it softly scratched her skin.

The vest soon fell off, as did his leathers; he stepped out of both them and his boots as he pushed her in the direction of his bunk. Her hands found hold in the cut of muscles above his groin and she held tight to him, keenly aware of the press of his manhood against her abdomen.

The back of her legs hit the edge of the bunk and they paused, jolted by the abrupt interruption of their continued kissing. Her hands settled on the planes of his chest, the ample hair there tickling her palms and breasts.

With his hook, he nudged her chin up to look him in the eye. “My men think you’ve bewitched me,” he whispered.

“I haven’t; I promise,” she told him, wanting to make sure he knew there was no trickery on her end.

“Oh, but you have, love,” was the reverent answer.

He gently guided her to lay on the plush mattress, then climbed on himself, hovering above her. The air between them was thick with heat and want. She could tell he was trying to take his time—some men did—but she was growing impatient.

But that thought was lost with the graze of a calloused finger over her sex. Human anatomy was slightly different from mermaid, so it always took some adjustment to the feel of lovemaking with things rearranged. That didn’t mean it was any less pleasurable, though.

She sighed when he brushed up inside her, and was keenly aware of the uptick in her heart rate. Her next shaky breath was caught by his supple lips, and the combined sensations brought her closer to peaking faster than she’d ever experienced. But she needed more, and couldn’t help the way she started to press her pelvis up, seeking more friction.

So she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away, just enough to speak. “I—I need—” she stammered; she’d never done that before—but she’d never been in the presence of anyone quite like him, had she?

“I’ve got you,” he answered, settling back on his haunches and stroking his cock a few times. He leaned forward again, about to press inside her, but paused. “If I’m to give myself to you, might I at least have your name?”

Wow; she hadn’t even realized they weren’t properly introduced. It had somehow felt unnecessary—like she already knew him even without his name. “Emma.”

“Killian.” It suited him, she thought, but then just about any other thought went away as he slid into her entrance until he was fully sheathed.

He felt...she hated to say perfect, but that was all she could come up with. Then he murmured in her ear, started to move, and she knew—this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing. And, for the first time in ages, that thrilled her.

She felt the magic start working and gave herself over to what came next.

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“I give myself to you, Emma.”

She may have only needed his body and word, but Killian was fairly sure he was handing over his heart as well, or whatever was left of it, when he made his vow. He tried not to linger on how incredible it felt as they came together, but he knew that his hopeless romantic self couldn’t ignore it. Every press into her felt like coming home, even if they’d only met not half an hour ago. It didn’t seem to matter.

He desperately wanted to take his time with this, but the press of her heel in his back and his own approaching release spurred him on, increasing his pace with every thrust. She was gripping his shoulders so hard he was sure there were bruises and he didn’t care in the slightest.

He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Emma still around him as she came, shouting his name; gods, but it sounded perfect in her voice. He was right behind her, needing only a few more quick presses until his own climax took hold.

Something felt different this time, though—not bad, not at all, but the brief tingle that typically accompanied orgasm lingered and spread through his body. It must be whatever magic Emma was using, he had to assume, and wasn’t going to complain.

He eventually collapsed alongside her on the narrow bunk, holding her close, enjoying what would likely be his last heated afterglow; the ocean was mighty cold, after all. When their breathing returned to normal, Emma opened her eyes and looked at him. “What do you say—wanna get out of here?”

He nodded. “With you, love—anywhere.”

“Good.”

She wasn’t in a rush, but she moved deliberately, sitting up and leading him from the bed and up his stairs. How appropriate, he thought, that he was following her out when it had started in the reverse; also that he was about to make an abrupt departure from the land of men in the same way he’d entered it: bare naked.

But the chill evening air didn’t seem to affect him as Emma took him to the ship’s side railing. He could hear some of his crew shouting at him, but what they said, he’d no idea nor care. They’d be fine without him.

She turned to face him, still holding his hand. “Are you ready?”

There was still a niggling thought in the back of his mind that she could be leading him to his death, but if this was how he went, he’d already made his peace; however, he knew all would be well. “Aye,” he confirmed, then placed a kiss on her lips that made her smile, and him in turn.

Gracefully, she climbed up on the railing, and he followed suit.

“Together, on the count of three,” she said. “One…”

He swallowed.

“...Two…”

Instinctively, he held his breath.

“...Three!”

They jumped.

And he welcomed the bliss that he knew was waiting for him under the sea.

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They should’ve tried harder. Why didn’t they? Why did they assume the captain might come out of this alive?

She was undoubtedly a sorceress; they’d never heard the sounds comin’ from the captain’s cabin that they just had. Seducing him with her body and convincing him to follow him to a watery grave—that must have been it.

Why else would he show up on deck, naked as the day he was born, following her right to the edge and ignorin’ the crew’s shouts? But the two were locked in their own conversation, exchanging a kiss like lovers.

All stared in horror as the pair climbed up on the rail; a few started prayin’. And not a sound was heard when the captain and the witch dove into the sea.

The ones who weren’t frozen in shock raced to the edge, ready to throw out a line and haul the captain back up. But he was nowhere to be seen—the water was even calm enough that you couldn’t tell it’d just been disturbed.

“There! Look!” came the shout—and there, not far from the ship, the siren’s tail broke the surface, as if to taunt them.

But then it was quickly followed by another, blue as the sea—blue as the captain’s eyes.

The smarter of the crew took it for the farewell it was; the more dubious insisted he’d been eaten alive by her wicked magic. Regardless, there was no denying: Captain Hook was dead, his heart given to a mermaid.

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thank you again for the prompt, my dear! tagging some more mermates: @kat2609 @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @xpumpkindumplingx@optomisticgirl @shipsxahoy @clockadile @kmomof4 @initiala@snowbellewells@branlovestowrite @word-bug @idristardis@sherlockianwhovian @wordsmith-storyweaver @wingedlioness @theonceoverthinker @annytecture @sherlockianwhovian and I’m not sure who else was/is into this so holla if you want a tag!

#cs ff #mermay 2019 #mermaid!emma #cs smut #my ff

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hellomissmabel · 7 years

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Mångata part 1

MASTERLIST

AO3 account

Pairing: Thor x plus size!reader. OC!daughter Stella, OC!twins Frey and Atlas.

Warnings: Fluff. Sexual references to male member in the downstairs department but nothing NSFW.

Word count: 2k

Summary: Born from a falling star erupting on Asgardian ground, her small body was covered in little marks that would grow into birth marks representing the constellations. Once of age, Y/N agreed to married Thor and become the future queen of Asgard. Now she is the goddess of the stars and accompanies Heimdall during his watch. However, as the universe exhibits a unique yet peculiar string of events, she is forced to seek shelter on Midgard from an enemy that might just be her own flesh and blood.

A/N: written for @supersoldierslover and my prompt was “showering together (non sexual)”.

Series masterlist can be found here

You stood bare in the reflection of the moon, a rich and deep golden hue circling your Y/E/C eyes whenever you’re admiring the stars. Your twin boys are sound asleep in the adjoining room yet your husband Thor is still tending to your daughter, trying to sing her to sleep. His atrocious singing voice only inspires laughter in the blonde-haired child and just like many nights before, Thor shows her Mjolnir and tells her the tale of how his hammer was created. Eventually she doses off into slumber, sleeping soundly throughout the changing of day into night.

“Shall we bathe together, wife?” The God’s rumbling voice is accompanied by the whisk of thunder, emphasising his request to spend some time with his other half. Without awaiting your reply, he sheds himself of his robes and presses his girth against the small of your back as he embraces your curves. He is not a shy man and already thick with arousal for what the night will bring.

While you crane your head so you can present your husband with a loving kiss, the golden rim around your eyes grows into a stormy light blue sparkle befitting the God of thunder. “Of course, husband.”

Guiding you by the hand first before swooping you up into his arms, he carries you towards the bathroom. Entirely made of Asgardian marble, the bathroom has an open roof so the waterfall can cascade down on you as you look up to the heavens above. His strong hands dig into your hips as he pulls you into his chest.

“Did you see the changing of the stars this eve?,” you inquire softy as he rinses your hair.

“No, I did not.” His answer rumbles through his chest like a lightning bolt through the sky. “Why should I care about the stars that are so remote when I have a far more celestial being right in front of me?”

Caressing your voluptuous body with a tenderness many claim the crude Asgardian does not possess, he washes you softly, gently massaging the oils into your skin while paying close attention to the markings that are the wondrous constellations etched onto your skin. “Sometimes you can be such a barbarian, all divine beauty lost on those electric eyes.”

The blond’s chest heaves with laughter. “The only divine beauty I see is you, Y/N.”

“I am in love with a fool,” you chuckle heartily, a warm smile playing on your lips as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Another follows quickly after and soon your lips are permanently locked with his.

When he tucks away your wet hair with his strong, sturdy hands, Thor kisses your forehead affectionately. “The Lady Sif informed me of your training. She speaks to me of your progress yet still you refuse to wear the armour I had made for you.”

You sigh softly into your robust shoulder, running your fingertips over his collarbone while resting your cheek in the nape of his neck. “I have no desire to look like a warrior. I prefer the robes of a wife and mother.”

“Whatever robes you choose to wear, my queen, you will always be a warrior. Even when you were bearing the fruit of my offspring in your womb, you were fighting alongside the lady Sif and myself.”

Thor gazes down at you with an endearing expression. “I am aware of your lack of need for weapons, your godly abilities providing you with sufficient protection. But Y/N, despite your immortality, your flesh still holds a boundary of weakness.”

His fingers trail down your back as they follow the constellation of Orion. “At daybreak, I will see to it that the armour fits. Then I shall attend to my usual tasks. Satisfied, husband?”

Thor places an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse point, seeking out the sensitivity of your human flesh so he can inspire some much-needed relaxation upon your tight, sore muscles. “Very much so, wife. Do they still need your services at the Soul Forge?”

“Odin has decided that Frigga shall continue without me. My presence is therefore required at Heimdall’s side at all times.”

The blond senses there is something off about your answer. Heimdall does a fine job at keeping Asgard and the nine realms safe. So why is it that the Alvader rules with such an unusual insistence?

“If anything happens, Y/N, you must take our child and hide on Midgard. My friends, the Avengers, shall protect you,” Thor speaks carefully into your ear. “If the alignment of these stars is indeed as peculiar as you have told me, then it is not safe on Asgard.”

“But what will you do?,” you query with concern as Thor’s feather-light affections shift from your hips to your face, his warm hands cupping your face.

“You are not of this realm. Odin has warned us that the day your ancestors might come for you might be closer than ever before.” Searching your eyes, the blond speaks insistently. “Tell me more. What have you seen?”

“I can show you.” Looking up to the sky, you release one of your arms wrapped around Thor’s waist to reveal to his eyes the same miracles your eyes fall upon every second of every day. Many more stars are now exposed to his baffled gaze and their light fills up the heavens in a rainbow of metamorphosis.

The changing of the clouds on Midgard is nothing compared to the exchanging of celestial energy between two stars of this universe and perhaps the next. “This realm is enveloped by three fiery stars and one of ice, one of earth and one of air. These stars are called Elementals and once they align, they morph into one entity.”

Thor followers your pointer finger, directing his eyes towards where one heavenly object shines brighter than the others. “That’s the earth star, the sun of Midgard.”

Her fingertips now reach another stellar, forming the tip of the nose of one of your favourite constellations, the little bear. “That’s the most beautiful star, the ice star. It is the diamond of the galaxy. And right next to it is the air star. Both of them are only visible at the stroke of midnight and only for a very limited window.”

Enraptured by the mysteries unfolding before his curious gaze, Thor returns his attention towards the wondrous creature in his arms. “And what about the three stars of fire?”

Squeezing your ass with a teasing chuckle, you lift the veil of the skies one last time for your husband to worship its exquisiteness. “They only shine at dawn, but only few can see them. Even Heimdall has to look very closely before he can locate their position.”

“But you can see them effortlessly,” the Asgardian hums lowly. “My omniscient wife.”

“I only have to look at the stars and I can see various possible future outcomes unfold in front of my eyes,” you smile up at your blond deity. “But with the alignment of the stars comes the alignment of the past, present and future.”

There’s a fair warning to your tone, goose bumps rising on your exposed skin. “It is a most dangerous time loop that will be created. Things that have been done, can be made undone. Events that have yet to come, can be postponed or even worse, obliterated. Time is most fickle and to meddle with the wheels of time is a death sentence.”

“And have you brought your suspicions to Odin’s attention as well?”

You shake your head in regret. “I have not. Odin is too enamoured by his grandchildren to be bothered with the tides of the universe.”

“My dearest, you should inform my father as of immediately!,” Thor presses with clear firmness. “We must protect the nine realms if such a dark fate awaits us!”

“My love, it is not certain these stars will ever align. And if they do, we will be prepared for it. I will speak to Odin at the council in two days’ time.” His eyes swirl in a great depth of blue and they easily remind you of your twin boys. “No need to worry yet, my love.”

All your children have the same eyes, Thor’s eyes, even though Stella’s are a tint darker. There’s truly no purer colour than Asgardian sapphire, yet there’s a part of you that wishes your celestial powers wouldn’t prohibit you from passing on your unique eye colour.

“Agreed. I trust you, Y/N,” Thor replies as he cradles your body in his arms, his lips resting against your temple. “I love you, too.”

“It is a most interesting thing to witness, the dynamics between Atlas, Frey, Stella and Odin.” Now it is your turn to take care of Thor, his favourite oil in the palm of your hand as you see to his muscled torso.

“Atlas, the apple of Odin’s eye, the young giant who appears to have been created in his father’s image and possesses the strength of titans. My sweet, frail Frey with his boyish features has charmed his way to Frigga’s heart. And even though he might not hold a mirror to his father’s looks, he does have his mother’s heart that yearns for the infinity of the galaxy. And Stella, oh Stella.”

With a loving chuckle, you swiftly turn on the heels of your feet so you are facing Thor’s back, continuing your careful ministration. “My girl with the temperament of a thousand stars. One day she will be as mighty and as worthy as her father.”

“I would argue with you on that,” the God of Thunder hums softly, enchanted by your tender touches and the butterfly kisses they accompany. ““Odin does not have any favourites, and neither does Frigga. But you are right.”

“A wife is always right,” you wink at him once you are face to face again. “Isn’t that why you waited so long to ask for my hand in marriage?”

Rolling his eyes at you, Thor spins you around so your back hits his sturdy chest for the God adores the feeling of your plump ass against his member. “Atlas is a miniature version of myself and he indeed possesses the ability to influence the sky,” he whispers into your ears as he embraces you tightly.

“Frey takes after his mother in many ways and is the cleverest of the three.” His hands roam your stomach, appreciating the soft skin with great precision so he does not miss an inch. “And Stella, she is the heir to my throne, the thunder in my veins. My little girl will master the art of the heavens faster than Atlas will bring forth his first victory or Frey will solve his first riddle.”

Thanks to the comfort of the warm shower and your husband’s body sheltering you from all negativity, you allow yourself to melt into him without a worry on your mind. “Such beautiful children,” you sigh quietly as Thor pecks the sweet spot under your ear.

“If I had known you would bless me with such precious offspring, I would’ve courted you sooner!”

Thor has always been the most valiant and gallant of lovers. Nevertheless, even when he was younger, he already had a very outspoken profile and very direct in his affections. Soon the whole of Asgard had heard of the God’s advances towards you. However that did not stop him from pursuing you, for Thor does not know any shame in the game of love. Never with little presents and neither with grand gestures, but always with a message straight from his heart.

“You courted me as soon as I started showing interest in boys,” you mumble to yourself as his lips find another sensitive spot to woo. Your hips sway gently while you cross your arms over his and take his hands in yours. “But I only ever had eyes for one.”

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean65 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @stefenrogers @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos @thegreentgirl @nedthegay @eve1978 @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @lostinthoughtsandfeelings

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!

{FF] or [AO3]

21. Twenty-five weeks

Haymitch deepened the kiss, doing his best to ignore the flickering lights and the high-pitched voice coming from the kitchen where Elindra was trying to get through her phone call despite the statics on the line. He would grant that to the Capitol woman, the couch she had picked was very comfortable – and perfect for making-out.

“Are you trying to give my mother a scare?” Effie chuckled against her lips. “Horrify her into leaving the house?”

“Maybe.” he snorted, before kissing her again.

Not that it would do any good right now.

They had tried to put Elindra on a train three days earlier but the station had been closed in anticipation of the snowstorm that was supposed to hit Twelve. It had finally reached them that morning. They had woken up to a world of immaculate white, snowflakes slamming down from the sky, and no hope of safely getting out of the house, not even to reach the kids’.

Haymitch had never minded being snowed in. The house was stocked with wood, the fireplace would be more than enough if electricity failed – and from past experience and given the flickering lights, he knew electricity would fail – and they had enough food to last them a month. It also assured a certain tranquility he usually enjoyed.

Now though not only did he have a pregnant woman and a restless puppy on his hands, he also had a Capitol woman he couldn’t run away from. Being locked in with Elindra Trinket wasn’t fun. The house felt small, terribly small. Even when he stuck to their bedroom with a book, he couldn’t help overhearing her talking downstairs – if Effie was loud, her mother was worse.

“She will be gone soon.” she promised, pecking his lips one more time before drawing back. “You have been very good with her. I… Thank you.”

He shrugged, preferring to leave that unanswered.

Truth be told, a part of him felt grateful for the woman’s presence. They could have managed without her, they always had, but… She had been helpful in a way. He would never have thought of completely redecorating the living-room to prevent any potential trigger, for instance. And whatever she had done to get Effie downstairs…

It had gnawed at him to see Effie like that, the terror so obvious on her face. He hadn’t known what to do and hadn’t been able to stomach doing nothing. Peeta’s attempt had failed. He hadn’t wanted to argue with her again so he had kept his peace, choosing to give her space and time in the vague hope it would sort itself out…

When Elindra had requested he left for the day, he hadn’t been sure. He didn’t trust the woman. Not only was she Capitol but he knew she had hurt Effie’s feelings in the past – something he had trouble forgiving. Whatever it was she had done though… It seemed to have worked.

Effie still spaced out sometimes and there were still nightmares but, for all intent and purposes, she was back to her usual self.

“I like the books your dad sent.” he said eventually, trying to find a positive spin to this invasion of their home. He was grateful to Elindra but he wouldn’t be sorry to see her leave, to get the house back, to go back to how things usually worked. Having the kids over, going to their house for dinner… Being a family again. To her credit, her mother had tried to respect what they had going but she didn’t fit in.

“He will be glad.” Effie hummed, pressing against her back. She made a face. “Would you…”

“Yeah.” he sighed.

She flashed him a beaming smile and turned around so he could work on her back. She was growing huge. Well… Maybe not huge but she was usually so tiny, she looked huge to him. And she had been tired for the past few days – one of the reasons why he was wary of the storm, because it meant they were cut off from any potential help they could need – her back particularly bothered her. He was rubbish at massages but it relieved her for a little while.

“I wish he wouldn’t kick so hard.” she complained, placing a hand on her belly.

“Maybe he’s impatient to get out.” he snorted.

“Well.” she huffed. “If he intends to act like this for the next three months, I am impatient for him to get out too. So young and already so unruly. There are no doubts about who his father is.”

“Sure.” he taunted. “’Cause you’re the soul of obedience.”

“I will have you know I am very well behaved and have always be very obedient.” she retorted.

“The things one must hear.” Elindra scoffed from the living-room’s threshold. Haymitch’s hand froze on Effie’s back, not sure how long she had been standing there. It must have been long enough because her face was schooled into her usual polite casualness. “You were the most unruly child, Euphemia. Quite the rebel. Whenever I said blue, you had to pick pink. You liked to contradict me just for the sake of it. Oh, it used to drive me crazy.”

“Lyssa was always the good daughter.” Effie joked with obvious bitterness and he slowly went back to work, trying to relieve her aches. “I had to improvise.”

“You maneuvered behind my back to get hired as a model at seventeen, I remember.” her mother insisted, shaking her head. “I was quite against it.”

“You did not think I would be successful and were afraid I would tarnish the family name.” she hummed and then chuckled without any amusement. “I suppose in the end your fears were justified.”

“I was simply wary of you getting hurt.” Elindra retorted. “There are some blows one’s pride does not recover from.” Effie turned her head to study her mother. They stared at each other for a while until the Capitol woman cleared her throat. “Is your back bothering you again? The heating patch was quite effective the other day, wasn’t it? I could fetch one for you, dear.”

“Later maybe.” Effie dismissed, clicking her fingers together. Snowball lifted his head from where he was slumbering in his bed and seemed to evaluate the distance and effort it would take to reach her. That puppy was spoiled and becoming lazy. “Come here, my pretty baby…”

The coaxing seemed to work. The dog paddled to the couch and then jumped up, curling into a ball in front of her and going right back to sleep with his head on her leg while she treaded her fingers in its fur.

The atmosphere was tense and awkward.

It was Haymitch’s turn to clear his throat. “So, what kind of rebel kid were you, sweetheart?”

“I was hardly a rebellious child.” Effie huffed.

“Come on, there must be funny stories…” he insisted, seeking Elindra’s gaze. Maybe he should have dropped it, let them deal with their own business but they had been doing better and he was kind of curious about her childhood.

“She did convince the hairdresser to dye her hair pink when I specifically wanted it purple.” her mother sighed. “She was eight but she already had a gift for convincing people to do her binding.”

“You had her fired.” Effie countered.

“Of course, I had her fired. I left very specific instructions and they were not met.” Elindra waved a dismissive hand. “I believe you learned a very valuable lesson that day, though.”

“I learned to be more cunning.” she snorted.

“As I said.” her mother insisted. “A valuable lesson. When you started smocking behind my back at fifteen, you were smart enough not to get caught.”

Effie frowned. “How do you…”

“Oh, please.” Elindra scoffed. “Did you truly think I did not know?”

“Lyssa told you the cigarettes were hers.” she exclaimed defensively.

“Very noble of your sister.” the Capitol woman smiled. “But utterly ridiculous. Unlike you, Lyssa is not gifted for games of deception.”

Effie shrugged his hands off. “Are those stories funny enough for you?”

“I’m in stitches.” he deadpanned, reaching out for her again, focusing on her lower back.

That time, he didn’t try to lighten the weird mood.

Elindra breathed out a small sigh and flashed them a polite smile. “I will retire for the night.”

“Night.” Haymitch said automatically, a little too happy to be rid of her probably. Effie remained silent. Elindra waited for a second or two and then left the room. He heard the soft click of the study turned guest room’s door getting shut a moment later. “That was harsh.”

“Don’t you dare judge.” she hissed.

“Not judging, sweetheart.” he shrugged. “Just thought you were getting along better, that’s all.”

Her whole body tensed and he thought she might bolt away. She relaxed against his chest instead and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing an instinctive soothing kiss against her shoulder.

“We are.” she said softly. “Talking about the past though… We will never raise our child like I was raised. Promise me.”

“Promise.” he granted easily. It hadn’t been his plan to give their kid a Capitol upbringing anyway.

“He will be whoever he wants to be.” she hummed, guiding his hands on her belly, where the baby was kicking the hardest. “We won’t force him to play a role. He will be free.”

He kissed her neck, under her jaw, gently rubbing her stomach.

Their son would be free. There would be no threat of arenas dangling over his head nor the looming shadow of the mines… Twelve was a different place now. Panem was a different place. Everything was possible. Everyone could be whatever they wanted to be.

He would have killed to have that opportunity in his youth. For him. For his brother…

“He could go to an university.” he mused out loud.

It had been a long buried secret yearning of his in his youth… He had always been curious, thirsty for knowledge of all kind… The schools in Twelve had always taught the basics and hardly more and his attendance hadn’t been stellar. He had made his own education afterwards, in the long days after his Games that the booze alone couldn’t fill. He had read every book he had been able to put his hands on: philosophy, history, politics, biographies, novels…

There were only a few universities and they were all in the Capitol. But by the time their son would be old enough maybe… Panem was morphing so fast, he was sure there would be other places to go in closer Districts.

“If he wishes to.” she hummed, turning her head to nuzzle his neck. “Should we sleep down here?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, reaching out for the blanket folded on the footrest and tossing it on her. They always did that when the blizzard was too strong… It was better in case the electricity, and thus the heating, gave in. It was warmer closer to the fireplace. They settled on the couch, on their sides, spooning – once again, he was glad Elindra had good tastes in couches. His mind kept wandering though and he couldn’t quite drift off. “He knows how to suck his thumb by now… I’ve read that in the books.”

“Yes?” He could hear the grin in her voice. “I love him so badly already… I am afraid of what I will feel when I hold him in my arms. It might be too much.”

“Won’t be.” he denied. “Won’t ever be too much.”

“Katniss is already planning on teaching him how to hunt.” she chuckled. “And Peeta… Peeta is eager to teach him how to paint with his fingers… They will make such a mess…”

He smirked against her hair, amused at the kids’ eagerness. It was one of the reasons he knew they would be alright with a baby. The kids would help. He wasn’t sure how everything would work out but he knew it would.

“New name ideas?” he asked because she spent most of her time the nose in those books, making list after list. Researching, as she called it. They weren’t having much luck on that front though.

So far, the shrimp was still the shrimp.

“I thought maybe Ilario. It means cheerful.” she told him. “Although given how much he is kicking me, I am not sure we should encourage him to be cheerful.”

“Ilario.” he repeated. It wasn’t the worst she had offered. He still ended up making a face. “No. He’s not an Ilario.”

“Somehow, I knew you would say that.” she chuckled. “Your turn, then.”

“Devin.” he suggested.

“Not refined enough.” she declared. And he wasn’t any more surprised by her refusal than she had been by his. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Maybe when he’s born.” he joked. Or maybe they could just stick to shrimp…

They fell asleep slowly, lulled by the irregular popping of the logs in the fireplace and the hissing of the wind outside. Haymitch never quite managed to completely surrender to slumber though, the blizzard was making a racket, sometimes rattling the blinds, keeping him on edge. Effie didn’t have that problem, she was out cold, her face tucked in the crook of his elbow, sometimes letting out a soft groan when he felt the baby kick under his palm.

It really seemed like that child couldn’t stand still.

He was startled from his dozing by noises in the kitchen, quiet banging that couldn’t have been the wind. He knew that, logically, it could only be one person given that Snowball was sprawled on their feet, absolutely not alarmed, but his sleepy mind wouldn’t accept that at face value.

He needed to be sure that Effie and the baby were safe.

He needed to be sure it wasn’t another mad man eager to kill his family.

He needed to be sure.

Extricating himself from the couch without waking Effie up or making any noise was very difficult and not helped in any way by Snowball’s whimper of protest. The dog immediately took the warm spot he had vacated. He tried not to be jealous at being so easily replaced when Effie rolled over and wrapped her arm around the puppy but he couldn’t help a smirk. They were cute.

The floor was cold under his sock-clad feet and he tried not to hiss when he left the floorboards for the even colder tiles of the kitchen.

As he had thought, there was no burglar, just Elindra, wrapped in a newly-purchased woolen dressing gown – she had complained about the plain colors in Twelve’s shop for forty-five minutes at dinner the other night, leaving him and Katniss to exchange fed up looks while Peeta and Effie commiserated – fumbling with the steaming kettle.

He almost took a step back when he actually saw her face. He didn’t know if it was the harsh neon light or the fact that it was bare of any make-up but it was… horrible. The numerous plastic surgeries had given her skin an unnatural aspect that didn’t quite manage to hide how old it was, it looked thin and stretched to its extreme limit to avoid lines. She had next to no eyebrows to speak off, either waxed away or bleached, he wasn’t sure, her eyes looked ridiculously small and lost in the washed-out paleness of her complexion. Her loose turquoise dyed hair framed her face, some strands loosely curling at the edge in a way that reminded him of Effie’s.

“Oh, dear!” Elindra exclaimed, turning her back on him to better hide herself. “I did not expect… I did not think…”

“Sorry.” he winced even though they were in his kitchen and he shouldn’t have had to apologize. “Heard a noise. Wanted to check.” In retrospect, it was probably a good thing the generator chose that moment to stop working. The lights flickered once and then snuffed out at the same time as any appliance in the house. Elindra let out another alarmed gasp, as if the thought of finding herself without electricity was absolutely unconceivable. “Bound to happen.” he grumbled, heading for the dresser’s drawer. He didn’t like the dark, not to say he hated it. Ghosts lurked in the darkness. He didn’t need to see to orientate himself in his kitchen though. He found the drawer and the perfumed candles Effie kept there before making his way to the counter where they kept the matches. It took him a few minutes to have three candles lit and reeking of chemical vanilla. Better than darkness though. “Blow them out when you’re done, yeah? Can’t really afford a fire right now.”

He turned around, eager to get back to the couch and Effie’s warm body, but her voice stopped him before he could even reach the table. “Would you care for some tea?”

Again, he had to swallow back the urge to tell him they were in his fucking kitchen and that she was offering him some of his own fucking tea.

She was obviously taking pain to be polite though, for Effie’s sake. And, truth be told, it was freezing and he wasn’t sleeping anyway so he could have done with some tea. “Sure, if you can find the chamomile stuff.”

She lifted her non-existent eyebrows and rummaged in the tea box until she found the bag he was requesting. Her face wasn’t any less scary in the candlelight.

For the first time, Haymitch understood why Effie had always been so reluctant about being seen without make-up and wig back in the days, why it wasn’t socially acceptable for Capitols to show themselves without artifices… When people looked like that…

It was so… unnatural.

“I would not have pegged you for a chamomile drinker.” Elindra ventured, pouring water into two different mugs. “Although I do not suppose I ever pictured you drinking anything other than alcohol.”

The gibe didn’t hurt one bit.

He was a drunk – always would be, even sober – it wasn’t something he was deluding himself upon.

“Helps me sleep.” he muttered, choosing not to address the other issue. He snatched the mug and added sugar, picking up a teaspoon from the dish rack to stir it. He fully intended to bring his tea back to the living-room.

“Do you know I never had to boil water myself before coming here?” Elindra hummed, fixing her own tea to her taste. “Being in Twelve has been quite the experience. I cannot say I will mind going back to civilization though. I do not know how Effie manages on a day to day basis. This District lacks so much… I cannot imagine why it did not modernize more during the rebuilding…”

They modernized plenty. Twelve kept evolving. It had barely anything in common with what he remembered from his youth. The discrepancy between the Seam and the town had disappeared, it was more homogeneous now. There were so many shops they didn’t need, a clinic, the factory… Of course, they didn’t have the fancy showers with perfumed water, the huge screens in the streets or the housemaids and butlers so many Capitols favored…

But Twelve wasn’t just a dead pit anymore.

There was no more coal dust dancing in the air, no more people slaving themselves off in the mines to feed their family and coughing theirs lungs out as a result… People weren’t starving. People weren’t scared of the white uniforms patrolling the streets. People didn’t have to risk getting whipped for a stroll in the woods.

“It has the essential.” he growled, almost a warning. “We’re happy here.”

She’s happy here, he didn’t say. He didn’t need to. It was implied.

Elindra leaned her hip against the counter – stepping back into the shadow a little, clearly not keen on anyone seeing her like that – absent-mindedly stirring her tea. “Yes. I saw.”

Uncomfortable with the reluctant acceptance in her voice, he took a sip of his tea, burning his tongue in the process. He longed to escape but didn’t quite dare. It was new, this uncertainty. He had never played nice with Capitols before, had never cared enough to try really… And, given the choice, he would have liked to keep his world separated from Effie’s relatives.

It was different now, though, because it wouldn’t be just the two of them anymore. He had no right and no intention to keep his child from his grandparents as reticent as he was about letting Capitols into their lives. The shrimp would only have one set of those, after all.

“I suppose I should thank you.” she offered with some bitterness. “I expected you to be a lot more difficult about my presence here. I expected… I did not expect you to be as gracious about my visiting as you have been.”

He pondered his words carefully. “It’s her house too and you’re her mother.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped greater men from forbidding me entrance.” she remarked.

“Yeah, well… I lost mine. I know what it’s like to miss your mother. You’re not dead, so… If she wants to reconnect, I won’t stop her.” he shrugged, staring at the flickering light of one of the candles. “Not any of my business anyway.”

“I sense a but.” she probed, taking a sip of her tea.

He clicked his tongue against his cheek in annoyance, meeting her eyes in the semi-darkness. “But you better not hurt her this time around ‘cause I’ve picked her up after you’ve kicked her down too many times. I’m not sure how many more heartbreak she can take.”

She maintained eye contact for a few seconds and then turned her head away, her lips pursed in a severe pout. “You seem to think I take pleasure in causing her pain. I won’t deny I hurt her feelings in the past nor do I feel I should apologize for it. Everything I ever did was meant to assure her happiness in the long term.”

“Tough love.” he scowled.

He knew everything he needed to know about how Elindra had put Effie down at every given opportunity. He knew because the rare times she had met her family during the Games, she had always come back to the penthouse upset and eager to fuck her brain out, almost begging for him to tell her she was beautiful. He knew because it was at the core of who she used to be, the reason why she had been so thirsty for fame in the first place, and the key to unlocking the true Effie under the escort’s mask.

He had met her when she was twenty-three and she had been so desperate to prove a point back then, to show the world she was it…

The world or her mother, but it had taken him a while to figure that out.

He had thought she was like the rest of them back then. Shallow, clueless, empty-headed… And she had been mostly… Until she had opened her eyes…

“Perhaps.” Elindra granted softly. “Lyssandra has always been the beauty, you know, but Effie… Effie was quick in a way her sister never was. It is never good for anyone to be too bright in the Capitol, not with a heart like hers, at least. It is… dangerous.” She shook her head. “You are not a parent yet. You do not understand the choices one has to make to insure their children are safe. You think I was harsh on Euphemia and I was, harsher than I was on her sister certainly… But Lyssa was made for the life she was born to, she never questioned anything. Effie… She questioned. She wanted to be more, to do more… She was never meant for greatness anyway, that was just a fanciful dream of hers. All I ever wanted was for her to have the best she could have, to be safe…”

He clenched his jaw and brought the mug to his lips, forced himself to wash the bad taste in his mouth with a gulp of scalding tea.

“I can get that.” he muttered eventually, thinking back to the Quell and everything he had kept from Katniss and Peeta. To protect them, yes, even if they would have ended up hating him later on, but also ultimately knowing it wasn’t the right thing to do. They could have handled it, he figured. Peeta, at least, could have handled it. Katniss… Katniss had always been a powder keg. She was a coin you tossed in the air, there was no way of predicting on which side she would land. He understood her better than most but he had known, even then, letting her know wasn’t the best idea. Later, he had thought again and again, later he would tell her everything. Until it had been too late and the decision had been out of his hands.

“Can you?” she snorted. “Because Euphemia hates me for it.”

Just like Katniss had hated him.

Just like Peeta had resented him.

But it was different. He had lied about the rebellion but he had never lied about the rest. He had never put the kids down, had never mocked Peeta’s baking or painting, had never belittled Katniss for her hunting…

There was protecting and nurturing and the two weren’t mutually exclusive.

“Well, you did tell her to get lost.” he sneered. “After the war. You…”

“Yes.” she cut him off, terse. “I did.”

“Don’t get how you can do that.” he snarled. “Toss your kid away like… She’s your daughter. How do you look your daughter in the eyes and told her to fuck off ‘cause your reputation’s more important than she is?” He saw the shame flash clearly over her face in the soft glow of the candle but it was quickly hidden behind a haughty expression he didn’t care for. He scoffed. “Fuck that. She needed you and you let her down.”

“Are you in any position to cast blame?” she retorted. “You weren’t in the Capitol at the time either, I do believe. You left her behind.”

“Difference is, I had to and she knows that.” he snapped. “I would have stayed in that fucking city if that was what she had wanted and if I had had a choice. I had to go for Katniss and she had to stay for Peeta. The kids had to come first.”

“Yes, they always do, don’t they?” she hummed, sounding strangely puzzled by that. “I never thought she would last in Twelve. I thought she would come back to us, lesson learned. I thought…” She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes suspiciously shiny in the glow of the candle. “It does not matter what I thought. I was wrong.”

“Of course, she was going to stay here.” It was almost a taunt and it was unfair because he hadn’t been sure at the time either. They had shared phone calls during the year she had spent in the Capitol but she had never hinted at moving out of the city despite the numerous invitations he had extended for her to visit the children – and him. “We’re her family.”

“And what does that make us, then, pray tell?” she replied harshly. She breathed out a long sigh and clicked her tongue. “No matter. The past is in the past. Things are different now, will be different. Let bygones be bygones.” Her voice became a little anxious. “You won’t oppose us seeing the child, will you? You have been… Like I said, you have been gracious about our involvement so far but we have not been the most supportive of your relationship with our daughter and…”

“Understatement.” he snorted and then let out a sigh of his own. “Look…” The words felt like ash in his mouth but his decision about that had been made the moment Effie had made it clear she wanted to reconnect with her parents. “As far as I’m concerned and as long as it’s alright with Effie, you’re family to that kid.”

“Thank you.” Elindra breathed out with palpable relief.

“But.” he added. “My child won’t go through what Effie did. You won’t put him down even if it’s for what you think is his own good. You won’t sneer at him ‘cause his father’s a District drunk. You will treat him right or you won’t see him ever again. You can’t fuck him up with your twisted Capitol games. It’s gonna be straightforward. That’s the deal.”

“Yes.” she said at once, as if she truly didn’t expect that much.

He wondered what tales she had constructed in her mind about him all those months since Effie had definitely left the Capitol. What had she been imagining? That he kept Effie prisoner? That he tyrannized her with his uncivilized barbaric tendencies?

“I ain’t a… I ain’t a monster.” he spat because he felt he needed to. Not like that anyway, he added in the privacy of his own mind. “I know I’m not what you wanted for her. I know she deserves better, too. But she’s…” He faltered, at a loss for words, not comfortable expressing his feelings on the best day and certainly not faced with a virtual stranger for whom he had mixed feelings. It wasn’t that he cared for her parents’ approval but… When he thought about the kids, about the shrimp… If he were them, he would like to know that… “I want her to be happy. I want her to…”

“You love her, yes.” Elindra clarified, putting him out of his stuttering misery. “Her father thinks she could have done a lot worse than you, that despite the obvious downsides, you are a good and clever man. I must say I remained unconvinced it wouldn’t have been better for everyone involved if she had chosen a wealthy Capitol man with the right pedigree.” She snorted before he could argue his point and ask about the past tense. Didn’t she think that any longer? “Well.. Better for everyone except Effie. She does love you. And… Despite my disinclination toward the match, I cannot deny you seem to be… good for her. You are certainly a more devoted boyfriend than anyone she could have found in the Capitol. None of them would know how to handle those… moods of hers.”

He figured she was referring to the PTSD.

“She’s doing better.” he growled defensively.

“And she made it perfectly clear to me several times that it was only thanks to you.” she argued. “Do not fret so, Haymitch. The time for disapproval has passed. For better or worse, you are the father of my grandson anyway. Now if you would just marry my daughter and make the whole thing proper…”

He rolled his eyes and finished his tea in two longs mouthfuls. The tiles were too cold and he couldn’t really feel his toes anymore.

“Yeah, well…” he scoffed. “I’ll work on that.” He wanted to, all the more so given that she was carrying his child, but every time he hinted at the subject, Effie deflected. She had put it inside her head that he only wanted to marry her because of the kid – and as much as it was a big factor in the decision, it wasn’t all about that – and wouldn’t hear about it. He placed the now empty mug in the sink and rubbed his hands together to warm them. “’Night, Mrs Trinket.”

It felt odd to call her by such a formal name when they had been living under the same roof for a couple of weeks now but she had never offered the use of her first name and he tended not to call her at all if he could help it.

“Mother.” she said, placing her own empty mug on the counter.

He frowned, watching her blow out the first candle – vaguely wondering if it was wise to let her go near a flame given that her face was so full of plastic. “What?”

She snuffed the second candle and he couldn’t quite see her in the dark anymore, he could barely guess at her shape.

“Mother is the proper form of address for one’s mother-in-law in our social circle.” she declared. “You shall call me Mother.”

No, was his immediate reaction. He had one mother, the fact that she was dead didn’t change anything. He had one mother and she wouldn’t be replaced by a Capitol half made of plastic, even if it was in title only.

“I can call you Elindra.” he bargained.

“You could, yes. However that is the form of address reserved to friends.” she dismissed. “You are family now. I insist on propriety. It might not mean much to you but it does to us. I shall call you Haymitch to please my daughter and you shall call me Mother for the very same reason. We are not each other’s first choice but we will compose for Effie’s sake. Now. Goodnight, Haymitch.”

When she put it like that… Refusing would make him look like an ass – something he didn’t quite mind – but it might also result in a longer argument he wasn’t really up to at that moment. Effie would hear, a fight would stress her out and she wasn’t supposed to stress. Stress might trigger another bout of those Braxton X contractions…

“Goodnight.” he said again. “Mother.”

The word was strange, felt absolutely inappropriate and he hated every second of it.

Elindra, on the other hand, seemed pleased. She nodded once and then left the kitchen, looking for every purpose regal, as if she owned the whole place.

He shook his head, blew out the last candle and decided he would pretend nothing had happened the next morning. It had obviously been one of those middle of the night discussions where people shared much more than they intended to.

Once back in the living-room, he stroke the fire, making sure it would keep on burning, then scooped the puppy up and placed it back in his own bed despite his displeased grumbling. Then, he slipped back on the couch, wriggling under the blanket, careful not to wake Effie.

Too little, too late.

“Is everything alright?” she mumbled, snuggling closer to him, letting out a hiss when her feet met his icy ones.

“I think your mother just adopted me.” he snorted. “Aside for that… Sure. Peachy.”

She opened heavy eyelids. “I beg your pardon?”

“She wants me to call her Mother.” he muttered.

“Oh…” she hummed dismissively, tucking her head under his chin. “Well, you are her son-in-law, it is the proper form of address. Not offering would have been a slight. It is nice of her, actually. Goodnight.”

And, just like that, she went back to sleep.

Capitols, he couldn’t help but think, are strange people.

His half-cooked plan of pretending the whole thing had never happened was short lived because Elindra made it clear in the following days that she intended to be addressed properly and, since she made a point of being polite and calling him by his name at every opportunity, he had no choice but to answer in kind or risk Effie’s wrath.

When the storm finally calmed down enough to allow them out, the first thing he did was take Snowball for a walk in the woods – where he met Katniss who looked far too smug when she asked him if he had managed not to murder his mother-in-law.

He was still relieved when the train station reopened and Elindra eagerly boarded the first train that would take her back to the Capitol. It was even funny to watch, really, because Effie went for a hug that her mother suffered for thirty seconds before chiding her about public effusions, prompting him to hug the woman for much longer just to see her turn red with embarrassment.

“You are a mean man.” Effie grinned, waving as the train left the station.

“Don’t you just love it, sweetheart…” he teased.

Her laughter echoed in the nearly deserted station.

To him, there was no sweetest sound.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

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