#so here’s a bite sized Emmy instead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch44: Peanut Butter And Poop

Introducing: Baby Rogers!

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr for the edits. They melted me.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 43

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2020

“Is everything ok?” Steve asked, tiredly. For the fourth time in about two minutes Katie had shifted, next to him, rubbing her hand over her distended belly. She was fed up now, and he wished he could help her get comfy, he really did. But until their baby decided to make an appearance, there wasn’t much more he could do. She had been feeling crappy all day and had thrown a spectacular tantrum at the fact Steve had shaved his stubble. His reasoning being that although she technically had another four weeks to go, she was already at full term size, and if their son arrived, who knew how long it would be before he managed to shave again, but she was having none of it. Steve had simply stood there, calmly whilst she’d ranted and raved about that and everything else she was pissed off about before she’d broken down into tears and apologised, falling into his arms and going on another rant about how shitty she was feeling.

His wife was such a strong person normally, the strongest person Steve knew in fact, but over the last week she’d been up and down mood-wise more than any other time during her pregnancy, and he hated seeing her so uncomfortable and upset. And tonight, she was physically the most uncomfortable he had seen her yet. “Yeah, he’s just kicking.” She sighed, rolling over to face him. “Really hard, Steve. It fucking hurts.” Steve gave her a sympathetic smile as he reached out and pressed his hand to her abdomen, waiting, and then he felt another sharp dig, Katie hissing air out through her teeth.

“Maybe he’s gonna be a footballer.” Steve yawned, attempting to make light of the situation. But it didn’t work. “Well I’m not a football.” She grumbled, pressing her hand to her stomach just above Steve’s. “Pack it in, Buddy, please.”

Co-incidence or not, their baby stopped kicking, but Katie was still restless. She moved again, and again, until finally Steve sat up, flicking on the lamp, his face silently asking her what the issue was. Katie had to smile, there wasn’t a shred of annoyance in his face, despite the fact it was almost one in the morning thanks to her sleep patterns being all over the place. Instead, there was nothing but love and genuine concern across his handsome features and coupled with the fact she was hormonal and just felt a bit shit, she started to cry.

“I’m fed up Steve.” She sniffled. “I’m fat, I had to get Natasha to shave my legs yesterday, I can’t see my feet, I need to pee all the time and…” “Sweetheart,” he chuckled, softly looking down at her, taking his face in her hands, “first off, you’re not fat, you’re pregnant. Very pregnant. With our baby.”

“I know but,” she continued to cry, “I just…”

Whatever it was that she just, Steve never found out as she simply sniffed again and moved so that her head was lay across his lap over the covers of their California king, and he gently stroked her hair. And for a moment he thought he’d managed to sooth her until she gave another groan.

“For fucks sake, I just can’t get comfy.” She sniffled, her sobs coming again as she sat up. “My back and my shoulders…”

Okay, this he could try and help with. Smiling to himself he looked at her. “Assume the position, Doll.” She gave out a watery laugh as she heaved herself over so she was facing away from him. Steve shuffled down so that he was led right behind her and doing the one thing he could to try and get her to feel a little relaxed, he slid his strong hands up her top, his deft fingers gently massaging and rubbing at the spot he knew was sor in her lower back.

“You still feeling funny?” He asked, his fingers working the tight and aching muscles and she nodded.

“Have been all day, but it’s not uncommon apparently. Pepper said she felt iffy for the last four weeks of her pregnancy.” “Four weeks.” Steve mused, his fingers stopping momentarily before he started again. “As if he’s gonna be here in four weeks.” “Well, it could be any time technically. And I hope it is, because frankly, I can’t wait to get him out.” She sighed, as Steve’s hands gently guided her top, well his shirt, over her head so his hands could work at her shoulders and her upper back.

“Hmmm,” he gently swept her hair off her neck so he could plant a soft kiss there. “I can’t wait but I’m gonna miss your bump.” “I’m not,” she scoffed, as his hands crept round to cradle her distended stomach, “and stop feeling him and carry on. Until he’s here this is all about me, remember.” She shrugged her shoulders, emphasizing her message, and he chuckled. “Sorry doll.” Relaxing into his touch, Katie felt herself leaning back against him and then Steve made the best suggestion he had ever made to her in the history of suggestions.

“Why don’t I run you a bath? I know it’s late but Emmy’s at Brooke’s for the evening and it might help.” Katie groaned “God, yes.”

He kissed the back of her neck and threw back the covers, climbing out of the bed, not an inch of tiredness displayed in his body. Despite herself, Katie had to bite back a laugh. He was like a coiled spring at the moment. He had told Rhodey a few weeks ago that he wasn’t travelling anywhere now until the baby was here for fear of missing anything, but as a result that relentless energy which normally went into his work was bubbling inside him, and even his runs every morning and night were doing nothing to help.

Laying back she closed her eyes until she heard him calling and she heaved herself up, taking a moment to steady herself before she rather ungraciously waddled out of the room, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other clamped under the bottom of her bump.

“Give me a hand when you need me to lift you out.” Steve chuckled as he passed her on the hallway and she spun round, glaring at him. “Like last time.” “That’s not funny.”

“No, but it will give me the chance to eye up your naked pregnant body, something I intend to make the most of as it won’t be around for much longer.” “You’re a piece of work, Steven Grant Rogers.” She huffed, as she turned and headed to the bathroom.

Steve settled back on the bed and flicked on the TV. There wasn’t much on but in the end he logged into Netflix and settled for a few re-runs of ‘Brooklyn 99’. The show was absurd, but it was easy watching and he quite liked it, Jake Peralta reminded him in an odd way of a cross between Tony and Thor with his incessant energy and ridiculousness. About halfway through an episode, he was struck with another good idea, and he headed down into the kitchen to make them both a drink, cocoa for him and a ginger and honey tea for Katie. He carried the mug into the bathroom where his wife was slumped in the tub, surrounded by lavender and camomile bubbles, her eyes closed. She looked up at him, one eye open as he walked in, handing her the mug and she let out a soft groan.

“My hero.” She smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her lips before heading back into their room.

It was about another thirty minutes or so when she did call him. He knew she hated this, needing his help, but getting out of the huge tub on her own was simply a physical impossibility. Once he’d helped her out and she was wrapped in a robe, she dropped on the bed, seemingly pacified for a moment until she suddenly wanted peanut butter. Heading into the kitchen, he opened the cupboard and a cold feeling of dread washed over him when he realised they were out.

Fuck, fuck!

He was certain there had been three jars in there this morning. He frantically searched the rest of the kitchen, just in case Katie’s baby-brain had meant she’d stashed it somewhere else, but there as none to be found. Grimacing, he took the stairs two at a time and winced at the look on his wife’s face when he told her she must have eaten it all, before hastily placating her as her eyes watered, reminding her that the twenty-four hour mart was only a five minute drive away.

Which was why he found himself there at twenty-seven minutes past two on a Sunday morning buying six jars of the damned stuff.

Captain America, buying jars of peanut butter at half 2 in the morning for his wife.

Steve smiled to himself, he didn’t give a shit.

“Missus is Pregnant.” He nodded to the man behind the counter, who gave him a look of confusion as he dropped the jars onto the side by the till. The guy laughed, and nodded.

“It was chow-mein with my gal.” He chuckled as Steve handed over the cash. “That was a pain in the ass at four am on a Sunday. Trust me buddy, you got off lightly.”

Thanking his lucky stars that his wife’s craving was, indeed, relatively simple, Steve headed back home and she nearly cried when she took a jar off him and dug in with a spoon. They sat still for another hour, at which point Steve really was ready to fall asleep, and after eating half of a jar in one go, Katie screwed the top back on and set it back on her nightstand, her eyes drooping slightly.

“Think I’m okay now.” She nodded softly and Steve hummed into her hair, reaching up and turning the TV and lamp off and settling them down. She managed about half an hour before she groaned again and heaved herself off to the bathroom, this time for a pee. When she came back she lay facing him, her fingers gently tracing his jaw and he cracked one eye open and they just lay there, watching one another in the dim light.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“What for?”

“Keeping you awake.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward to give her a soft kiss “Honey, it’s fine.”

And it was, it really was. He would be tired tomorrow, he knew that, but he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes and he was on the verge of sleep, teetering between dozing and being fully under when…

“Steve.” Katie whispered softly, and he grinned as he knew that suggestive tone way too well. “I’m horny, now.” “You really know how to pick your moments, Mrs Rogers.” He sniggered a little, opening his eyes, as his mouth met hers again, the slight taste of the peanut butter made him smile even more as both his lips held her bottom one as the kiss lingered.

“Blame your son.” She murmured as she kissed him again, her hands creeping into the back of his hair, eliciting a soft moan from him.

And that was all it took.

Steve was obliging, and kissed every part of her body he could, taking care to avoid the rather tender chest area. It was slow, soft, as their bodies joined in the ever so familiar dance, tangled in the sheets of the bed. As his wife rode him, her large bump not allowing for any other position, Steve’s hands never left the side of her hips, the pair of them groaning loudly as her release took her over the edge and he followed shortly after. They lay there, gently on the bed together, Katie’s back pressed into his chest, for half an hour or so afterwards. Steve’s hand was strong yet gentle over her waist, his hand caressing the place his son was currently dwelling, thumb stroking her stretched skin in soft arcs. And when he felt her finally relaxed, he took a quick glance at the digital clock on the night stand, giving a slight roll of the eyes as he saw it was almost half four in the morning.

****** Katie woke later that morning at little after eight, trying not to groan at the now quite nasty pain in her back. She didn’t even try to go back to sleep, knowing it was utterly pointless. Instead, leaving Steve flat out, exhausted from the nights activities, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a peppermint tea and stuck a heat pack into the microwave, grabbing another jar of peanut butter.

The pains in her back and lower stomach continued to get progressively worse through the morning and along with them so did Katie’s mood. Emmy had called asking to stay at Brooke’s for a bit longer, which suited Steve as it meant he could give Katie his undivided attention, so he agreed and promised to collect her later in the evening.

As they both stood in the kitchen, Katie trying to decide what she wanted for lunch, eventually settling on meatball subs. They began to cook together, something to take Katie’s mind of feeling so uncomfortable, but as she turned to pass Steve the cheese so he could start loading the bread up, a searing pain flashed across her abdomen causing her to give a loud exclamation and clutch at the counter edge with one hand, dropping the packet of grated cheddar from the other.

“Katie?” Steve turned to face her, frowning “Sweetheart?”

She turned into him, curling her fists into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest, with a groan, her forehead digging into his collarbone. He gently held her back, supporting her as she breathed through the pain.

“I - mm.” Katie’s voice was trembling, a combination of fear and excitement. “I thought it was just cramps but now I think…”

Steve understood immediately. And despite all the classes, all the prep, everything, he suddenly felt really, really nervous “What? Now?”

She looked up into his eyes which were wide, in a combination of anticipation and trepidation and laughed. “I think so, yeah.”

Steve went straight into Captain mode. The maternity bag was loaded into the car, Dr Kellet was called who told them to monitor the contractions in frequency and duration, and a bath was run to try and make Katie more comfortable but it didn’t work.

Neither did a soft walk round the block with Lucky.

Four hours later, Katie was stood, bent over the back of the sofa as Steve rubbed her back, helping her breath through another contraction. They were now coming every thirteen minutes and getting far more painful (thanks to Steve’s impeccable time keeping skills for that one) when Katie noticed him step back slightly as she felt a dampness spread across her legs.

Her waters had gone.

“Baby, I think-“ “I know,” she grit her teeth as the pain subsided again. Steve was already on the phone to Dr Kellet and as he thanked her and placed the phone into his pocket he gently placed his hands on the side of his wife’s hips as she straightened up.

“She’s told us to go in.” A smile flickered on his face and despite the pain and stress she was feeling, Katie couldn’t help but find her heart swelling at the excitement on his face.

Steve called Tony, asking him to collect Emmy, then rang the girl herself who squealed with excitement at the fact her brother was on his way. A quick chat to Jennifer’s mum to explain, the woman wishing them both luck, and Katie was in the car and they were off, making quite possibly the most important journey of their lives. Steve drove carefully but determinedly to the Birthing Centre, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, casting glances at Katie every chance he got, and by the time they had arrived twenty minutes later the contractions were arriving five minutes apart.

He helped her change and got her settled in their airey room, his hand curling round hers as she lay back on the bed, both of them pleased to see the familiar face of Dr Kellet as she walked into the room just as another contraction hit Katie. Once it had subsided, Dr Kellet smiled moved to examine her.

“Yes, you’re in active labour Mrs Rogers.” The Doctor smiled. “You have a little while to go yet though so, we’ll try and get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

Katie nodded.

“And you still don’t want an epidural?”

“No.” She shook her head firmly, and Steve raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She’d been adamant that there were no needles going anywhere near her back, not after what HYDRA had done to her, which broke Steve a little when she’d said that to him, not only at the memory of what she’d been through, but also a the fact she was going to be giving birth with little relief.

Three hours later, however, Katie was seriously questioning her decision. She was on all fours on the bed, desperately trying to find some release that the gas and air wasn’t really providing anymore as Steve rubbed her back, feeling utterly helpless.

“I don’t like you-” Katie groaned, her voice cutting off as another wave of pain washed over me. “I don’t you seeing me like this. I don’t like it, you should go”

Go? Not a chance, Doll, he thought to himself as he glanced up at the midwife who simply smiled at him. He leant down so his lips were by Katie’s ear and she turned her head, burying it into his shoulder, as his arms supported hers. “Katie Marie Rogers, I have seen you throw tantrums that rival the ones a two year old could produce, I’ve seen you with a face full of blood and a broken nose, I’ve watched you crawl through a dirty hole in the floor to disarm a bomb, and come out trembling. I’ve seen you scream the house down after spotting a damned spider, I’ve seen you half dead,” the words caught in his throat at the memory, “I’ve seen you shit faced to the point of puking, not to mention that I’ve seen you in every single position going.”

Katie snorted loudly, before gripping at his arm as another wave crashed over her.

“None of that could ever make me love you any less. And, seeing you here now, about to give birth to our boy, well I couldn’t love you anymore if I tried. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

She looked up at him through her tears and he wiped at her face with his thumbs, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before she let out a gasp.

“I need, I need to push.” The panic tone in her voice made Steve glance up at the Doctor as Katie grabbed athis arm. “Steve, I…oh shit, I want to lay back, please, I need-“

“Okay, okay, I got you.” Steve assured her as the Doctor nodded at him to oblige. He gently helped her onto the back as Dr Kellet stood forward.

“You good?” She asked Katie who shot her a scathing look and Steve had to bite back the snort at the fact the Doctor merely raised an eyebrow whereas most people would be quaking in their boots at that infamous Stark glare. Instead, she merely smiled. “Let’s have a look.” Katie grabbed Steve’s hand with a force he didn’t think possible, and it almost made him wince slightly, but he was damned if he was showing her that she was hurting him. As far as he was concerned, she could break every damned finger he had if it meant she was okay, that their son was okay.

“Yep, we’re in business.” The Doctor said, nodding to the midwife that was in the room. “Okay, Mrs Rogers, next time you feel ready to push I want you to do so gently, follow my lead, Steve is gonna help you with your breathing okay?”

And Steve tried, boy did he try. But after twenty minutes of pushing, Katie was pissed off, tired, in agony and just wanted it all to be over.

"You’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” He smiled gently, as he brought her hand up to his lips.

“You are NEVER touching me again.” She grit her teeth and he let out a chuckle, wiping her clammy forehead with one hand.

“Alright, Katie.” The midwife looked at her from the foot of the bed. “Next time, I want a big, strong one. He’s crowning. Chin into your chest…”

“Fuuuuuck…” Katie screamed, another contraction hitting her and she let out a yell, gripping Steve’s hand as she pushed with everything she had.

You’re doing amazing, Katie. Just one more.” Steve dropped a kiss to her forehead, his heart was beating so loud he was sure she would hear it. “Come on, you got this, and I’ve got you, okay?” Another yell, one final push and then…

A piercing scream hit their ears as Katie sagged back on the pillow panting before she looked up, relief crashing over her. Steve was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes wet as he looked at his wife, in awe at how simply amazing and strong she was.

“You did it.” His voice cracked as he kissed her head. “Oh, Baby Girl, you did it.”

“He’s here?” Katie asked, dazed slightly as their baby was placed straight onto her chest, where the buttons at the top of her gown were undone, and instantly the warmth she felt was like nothing she had ever experienced before, her chest filling as she held their baby boy tenderly, tears pouring down her face.

“Oh God.” Steve breathed, his voice cracking, as Jamie was covered with a towel, resting on his wife’s chest, his piercing cries subsiding at the skin to skin contact. Steve rest his head against Katie’s, wiping the tears that had pooled at the end of his nose away, and the pair of them looked down getting their first glimpse of their son.

“Hi, baby!” Katie finally managed to speak, looking down through her tears at the tiny bundle in her arms as his head lay against her chest, making little snuffling noises. “We waited so long for you!”

She finally tore her eyes off the precious bundle and looked up at Steve, his eyes swimming with tears of joy as her own continued to fall down her cheeks. "It’s our boy, Steve.”

“He’s perfect.” Steve whispered again and gently smoothed down the towel with a trembling hand so he could see their baby’s face clearly. Steve instantly noticed he small spattering of dark blonde hair on his head, and there was something distinctly Stark-like about his nose. Then his eyes barely opened, but through them he saw a sliver of beautiful baby blue.

The Soldier’s heart instantly swelled so full he thought it would bust from his chest. He already knew this, but as he looked down at his son, it simply solidified the fact that he would take on the world to protect that little bundle in his wife’s arms, shield or no shield.

They remained wrapped in their own little bubble so much so that neither of them knew what was going on around them. Eventually, their baby was gently taken to the opposite side of the room whilst Katie was cleaned up. He was weighed at 7lb 4, which was, given Steve’s size, rather small but still perfectly healthy. Steve couldn’t help but hover, watching what they were doing with his boy, wincing as they gave him a shot of vitamin K.

“Does he have a name?” The nurse recording his AGPA scores looked up. Steve looked at Katie and she nodded at him.

“James” Steve spoke, his voice croaky. “Jamie.” “Alright.” The nurse scribbled something onto a band which was placed around his wrist before he was wrapped in a clean towel and the midwife looked up at Steve.

“Would you like to take him, Dad?”

Steve nodded, swallowing.“Yeah, yeah I would.” “Okay, well if you’re comfortable doing so, open your shirt, he’ll appreciate the skin to skin contact…”

Steve did was he was told, undoing the four buttons on his dark green Henley and could do nothing but gasp as his son was laid in his arms, tears once more forming in his eyes as he cradled their child to his chest for the first time, awestruck as he brought his lips down to drop gently on his head.

“Hey, Pal.” He whispered unsteadily. “I’m your Dad.”

Katie watched the two of them, more tears springing into her eyes as Steve sat down on the chair next to the bed and she just watched the pair of them, Steve’s eyes not once leaving his boy, who Katie noticed was now trying to burrow into his chest face-first.

“What are you doing, lights too bright for you, Buddy?” He asked softly.

“It’s called rooting.” One of the nurses looked over “He’s wanting to feed. Are you ready to try Mrs Rogers?”

Katie nodded and sat up slightly, as Steve gently handed him over and the midwife helped Katie position him correctly. It took a while, but when he finally latched on and began to suckle, Katie looked down into her baby’s face, trying to memorize the way the tiny hand curled against her skin. Steve leaned close, simply watching, his heart full of a love like nothing he had ever felt before.

“You’re beautiful,” he told Katie suddenly, and she laughed a little, because it was anything but true at that moment in time.

“I think the serum is failing as your eyes are clearly not working properly.” She retorted, glancing up at him.

“I mean it,” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her temple. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And look what you made!”

She glanced down at Jamie, who was feeding enthusiastically and smiled. “What we made…” “Yeah but you cooked him.” Steve’s finger slid under her chin so that she was looking back up at him, and he held her gaze, driving his words home. “Thank you.”

Katie leaned into his touch as his palm caressed her cheek. Carefully, he moved to sit on the bed beside her, guiding her head against his shoulder and gathering his family into very gentle embrace, his eyes not once leaving his baby.

"I love you,” he whispered into her hair - and he didn’t budge from that spot until Jamie was done nursing and Katie was then escorted to the toilet. In there she changed out of the gown and into a pair of pyjamas and returned from the en-suite of their private room, with a tired smile on her face to see that Steve, had dug out a baby grow. Katie watched as he placed their son in the cot by the end of the bed, with infinite tenderness, and the new parents dressed him for the first time.

“I suggest you both get some sleep whilst you can.” Dr Kellet smiled, peering into the cot where Jamie was now yawning, eyes drooping. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. If you need anything though, just hit the call button and one of the Midwives will come in. Congratulations.” Steve and Katie both thanked her as Katie headed over to the bed, dropping exhaustedly onto it.

“You should go get some rest.” She yawned and Steve shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you.” Steve snapped a quick photo of the sleeping baby before settling on the bed as Katie lay her head on his chest. “Not a chance.”

It wasn’t long before she had fallen asleep, exhausted, and Steve sat up slightly, firing the photo off to Tony, Emmy, Nat and Rhodey. The replies of congratulations flooded in, along with a selfie of Tony, Pepper and Emmy on Tony’s sofa with their thumbs up. Steve snorted, it was almost two am now, but he knew that Tony and Emmy would be too excited to sleep. He placed his phone back on the night stand and settled down next to his wife, his hand straying into her hair. A little sniffling noise came from the cot at the side of the bed and Steve sat up, to check on him, but Jamie was sleeping soundly so he relaxed back, taking a deep breath.

He was in way over his head, and there was no planning for this mission, not one bit. But Steve found he didn’t mind. As he dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, he closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh knowing full well that the 7th March 2020 was a date he was never going to forget.

****

Katie opened her eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room which was lowly lit from a chink of light flooding in under the door. She sat up so quickly that her head spun, and she dropped back against the pillow, taking a deep breath. Then her eyes caught the man in the chair by her bed, and the memory of the night before came back. At some point in the night Jamie had woken for a feed but post it wouldn’t stop fussing and Katie’s half-conscious attempts to soothe him had failed. Steve had at that point stepped in and taken him, insisting that she get some rest as he paced the room with his son, gently rocking him to and fro. Her husband was now leaned back in the chair by her bed fast asleep, their little boy slumbering on his dad’s chest, secured by Steve’s large, gentle hands. Katie felt her heart swell and she grabbed her phone, noting that the time was only a little after 6:30 am, meaning that it was only two hours or so since his feed. She took a quick snap, contemplated taking Jamie back to his crib before she decided he was fine where he was. Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Glancing at her two boys, she sank deeper into her pillow, quietly satisfied, as she drifted back off into a light sleep.

Steve was woken by a soft cry about forty-five minutes later, and despite his best attempts Jamie wouldn’t settle.

“Sorry, Doll.” he looked at Katie as she woke, blinking as she pushed herself up. “I think he’s hungry and I can’t help him in that department.” With a smile she took their baby and began to nurse him again, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing. Once he was fed, the midwives appeared and offered them breakfast which they gratefully accepted and then Katie positively moaned when she was told she could shower. She was dried off an and in a clean set of Pyjamas just in time for visiting hours which started at ten.

At one minute past there was a knock on the door to their room.

“Hey Mommy and Daddy!” Pepper peering round the door clutching a huge blue balloon as Tony followed, Morgan in her stroller. The tot squealed when she saw Steve who stood up to greet them as Emmy flew into the room, locking her arms around Steve’s waist. He dropped a kiss to her head and looked up as Natasha stepped in hot on their tail.

”Congratulations Cap.” Tony beamed, shaking Steve’s hand before he pulled him into an embrace. Katie smiled up at her family, Jamie clutched in her arms having just been fed again as Tony moved and stepped up to the bed, kissing the top of his sister’s head as he peered down at his nephew.

“Well done, Kiddo.” he whispered softly and she smiled at him.

Pepper was next to congratulate her, then Natasha and finally Emmy who gave her brother an appraising look. “Hmmm takes after you, Dad.” She smirked up at Steve. “Where else is he gonna get a face like that?” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up from where he had been crouched saying hello to Morgan. He glanced at Tony who was peering down at his nephew, a huge grin on his face.

“He’s beautiful, guys.” Tony said and Katie smiled up at her brother and he made a gesture with his arms. “Can I?”

Katie nodded, and moved to gently pass him over, and Tony took him in his arms with a soft chuckle.

“Hey, Champ.” He beamed down as Jamie moved softly in his arms, kicking slightly. “How’s it going?”

“How are you feeling?” Pepper asked, looking at Katie.

“Tired but, I’m good.”

“So, does he have a name yet?” Tony looked at Katie and Steve took a deep breath, his arms crossing over his chest. If truth be told, he was a little nervous about revealing the name they had chosen, Bucky wasn’t Tony’s favourite person, but before he could answer he spotted Katie giving Emmy a small wink.

“Horatio Montgomery Rogers.” Katie nodded. “Monty for short.” There was a pause whilst Pepper, Tony and Nat all exchanged a look and Steve bit on his lip.

“That’s…” Tony began, searching for words as he glanced down at the baby in his arms before he finally settled on, “…unusual”

Emmy looked at Katie again before they but out laughing.

“I can’t believe you fell for that, Uncle Tony!” Emmy cackled. “Such an idiot.”

“I resent that.” Tony pouted and Natasha cleared her throat.

“So what is his name?” Nat pressed. Katie looked at Steve and gave him a nod.

“James Anthony Samuel Rogers” Steve took a deep breath as Tony blinked. “Jamie for short.” “James Anthony Samuel.” Tony whispered looking down at Jamie. “James. Anthony?” His eyes locked onto Katie’s, then Steve’s, before they flicked back down to his nephew. “You actually named him after me?”

Katie smiled. “Yeah, guess we did”

“And I was only joking too.” His voice choked as Natasha, stepped forward to peer down at the baby in his arms. “But the James is after Barnes, right?” She looked up. Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flickered to Tony who was simply gazing down at his nephew with adoration as Katie answered.

“There’s so many people we’ve both known or know with the name James.” She shrugged. “Rhodey, half the Howling Commandos, but yes, Bucky was one big reason, another was Grandad Jim.” Tony looked up at her, smiling, his eyes wet. “Yeah, Grandpa Jim was pretty awesome”

“And so is his uncle-slash-grandpa.” She smiled and Tony gave a loud sniffle.

“Wrap it up Kiddo, you’re killing me” He shook his head as he turned to Natasha. “We’ll call that one a draw.”

Steve rolled his eyes, as Natasha shrugged. “Suppose you can’t be wrong all the time, Shell-Head.”

Jamie was passed around, and Emmy finally got to have a hold as she sat in the chair, Steve crouched by her side as she peered down at the baby. But when it was Natasha’s turn, the red head grew almost as emotional as Tony as she held him and he curled his tiny hand around her finger.

“Good job he likes you.” Katie smiled at her, “you know, seeing as you’re gonna be his god-mother and all…” “Me?” Nat’s head whipped up and she looked at Katie, then Steve, her eyes full of tears. “I mean…” “Well, there’s no one else for the job so it kinda falls to you by default.” Steve teased from where he was perched on the arm of the chair.

“You’re such a douche.” Emmy muttered, elbowing Steve in the ribs and Tony’s face split into a grin.

“Kid, you have no idea…did you know his nickname is Spangles?” “Spangles?” she grinned and Steve groaned

“No one calls him Spangles other than Tony, because Tony is an idiot.” Katie shook her head.

At that point, Jamie let out a huge shriek and Natasha promptly crossed the room to hand him back to his momma, who placed him over her shoulder and he nuzzled into her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw line. As she looked around the room, her eyes locked onto Steve’s and he gave her, quite possibly, the most affectionate look she could ever recall him giving her. And at that moment, although they were surrounded by their friends and family, she felt like the only woman in the world.

*****

Thankfully as everything had gone as well as expected they were discharged later that day and they could go home. Steve, having practiced about a billion times, expertly clipped Jamie’s car seat into the base of the Porche SUV they had borrowed from Tony a few weeks ago (the Camero just wasn’t baby friendly) and Katie climbed into the back, positioning herself in the middle seat so she was by their son for the drive home.

Emmy had gone back to Tony’s to give them the evening to settle in, and with Lucky also with them, when Katie and Steve walked into the house, Steve carefully carrying the car seat containing the most precious cargo he had ever carried, it struck them that they were suddenly on their own.

With a baby.

Steve set the car seat on the coffee table in the lounge and the two of them sat on the couch, looking at their baby before they looked at one another, neither of them having a clue what to do next.

Thankfully, a piercing scream from Jamie jolted them out of the stupor and dictated exactly what they needed to do. As Katie set about feeding him, Steve headed into the kitchen to make them something to eat and by eight pm the pair of them were whacked and ready for bed but Jamie had other ideas. It took a lot of pacing, frustrated sighs and prayers but he finally settled a few hours later and the new parents crawled between their sheets, exhausted, frustrated and feeling like they were embarking on a mission which was far bigger than any they had faced before.

*****

Steve heard his wife get up, but didn’t register why. Not at first. He dozed for another half hour or so before he heard a cry and he sat upright, looking around. He blinked, saw the empty crib at the side of the bed and smiled to himself. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed the bag he’d had waiting for weeks out of the back of his closet before he headed down the stairs.

Katie was sat on the sofa in one of his button downs, her bare legs crossed, munching on a piece of toast when he paused in the door to the lounge taking in the scene. The domesticity of it all hit him for a moment and he felt himself welling up, he’d never in his wildest dreams dared to imagine he would ever be this damned lucky. But here he was, gorgeous wife, beautiful baby…

At that point, Jamie started fussing and she instantly placed her hand on his tummy whilst he lay in the wicker Moses basket in front of her, gently hushing him, all the while a look on her face of infinite tenderness. As he settled she smiled, simply gazing at their boy for a moment before she looked up and smiled at Steve. He walked over to her and dropped a soft, lingering kiss to her lips and she smiled.

“Morning.” She whispered and he smiled against her mouth, kissing her again before his attention turned to his boy and he gently reached into the basket, his finger softly running down his son’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” “Could you feed him?” Katie grinned and Steve let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

“No, suppose not.” He looked at Katie and nodded to Jamie “Can I?”

“Steve, honey, he’s your son. Of course you can.” He placed the bag he was holding on the coffee table, Katie still not noticing it, as he reached into the basket and gently picked his son up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie buried his face into his neck, still sleeping. Steve gently moved to sit on the couch and Katie watched the pair of them, smiling softly.

“That’s for you.” He nodded to the Tiffany bag. Katie glanced at, blinking in surprise before she frowned slightly.

“What for?”

“Well it used to be a tradition to buy your wife something after your first child and Tony assured me it still was so…”

She beamed at him and reached over for the bag. As Steve cradled his boy close he watched his wife pull out the blue ring box and open it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the platinum Eternity band which was studded with sapphires and diamonds.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, turning to him and leaning over to give him a soft kiss. “Thank you.” Steve beamed at her and watched as she rejigged the rings on her wedding finger so she could place it in between her wedding and her engagement ring. She flashed her hand at him to show him what it looked like on.

“Looks good.” He smiled “I clearly have good taste.” “Of course you do, you chose me.” ****

“Come here.”

Steve turned to look at Katie who was on the other side of their bedroom and he frowned. “What?”

“Just come here.”

Steve crossed the room towards her where she grabbed the bottle of his aftershave and sprayed an amount to his neck.

“What are you…” he frowned as she stood up to take a deep sniff.

“Oh thank God!” She groaned. “I can sniff you again without feeling sick!”

Steve snorted, and shook his head, a grin on his face as Katie began to spray the Hugo Boss around the room, sniffing and smiling to herself before she stopped and grimaced.

“Oh, that’s…” She looked down at the crib and Steve did the same.

“Oh.” Steve wrinkled his nose

“Your turn, Daddy.” She patted his back. “I’m going for a shower.” Steve looked at her, slightly panicked as Jamie began to let out a soft cry “What, alone?” “Don’t tell me Captain American can’t deal with a bit of poop.”

“It’s not that. I might do it wrong or…” “Steve, relax, what’s the worst that can happen?” She eyed him, as he bit his lip, watching his reaction carefully. Whilst he had been amazing that night in the hospital, once they had gotten home and away from the safety net of midwives, she had fast realised that Steve had suddenly grown incredibly nervous when it came to their baby, asking permission to pick him up, wind him, cuddle him and Katie was keen to nip that in the bud right away. She knew he wanted to help as much as possible and she didn’t want him to constantly be second guessing everything he did.

“I err…” Steve stuttered and she cut him off. “You saw me before.” She shrugged, heading into the en-suite. “You’ll be fine.”

Steve watched her go and then peered down at his son, swallowing slightly before he picked him up and took him into the nursery. As soon as the baby-grow was off, Jamie still crying slightly, Steve suddenly felt completely inadequate. Cursing to himself, he laid Jamie gently on the changing mat, wrinkling his nose and trying to shut out the scream that was ringing round his ears. At that point he was seriously starting to believe that this was worse than facing off against thirty HYDRA agents single headedly. Taking a deep breath and telling himself to get it together, he managed to clean Jamie, get a fresh diaper on, and then once he was dressed again, he picked the baby up.

“Come on, Pall.” He soothed softly, his large hand gently smoothing his son’s back as he walked over to look out of the bedroom window “You know, that there is the best city in the world,” he glanced over the Brooklyn skyline, “one day I’ll show you all the places I used to go, tell you all about my life and the Rogers clan, and who you’re named after. Take you to meet your Grandma…”

He stopped talking as he realised Jamie had fallen silent, and was now relaxed completely against him, his face gently pressed against his shoulder. “Thass ma boy.” He whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. He turned to see Katie was stood in the doorway, her hair damp as she was wrapped in a towel gown.

“See.” she smiled as she crossed the room towards them both. “I told you it would be okay.” She gently smoothed a hand over the baby boy’s head before dropping a kiss to his crown.

“Should I put him down to sleep now?” Steve asked and Katie looked at him.

“Do you want to put him down?”

“Not really.” Steve admitted, with a little smile. “You gonna drop him?” “Shut up.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” “Then no, you don’t have to put him down.” Katie smiled “He’s your baby, Steve. If you wanna cuddle him, cuddle him.” “Sorry, I’m fussing again ain’t I?” Steve sighed.

Katie gently stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips. “Fussing is fine, just don’t doubt yourself. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do, but we’ll figure it out.”

Steve smiled, as he gave her a soft kiss. “I still swear you can read minds.”

“No, I can just read you.” She corrected. “Now, before you go get Emmy, can I leave you whilst I take a quick nap? He’s gonna want a feed soon and I’m so tired. ”

Steve looked at his wife, then to his son who was perfectly content, his little nose and mouth now resting firmly against Steve’s collar bone. He smiled back at Katie and gave her another soft kiss.

“Think we’ll be okay.”

**** Chapter 45

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Text

Christmas is for Family

chaotic dads on christmas!!! happy holidays, everyone

warnings: none

ships: ralbert, jatherine

editing: hnnnnnng

“Daddy, can you do my hair?”

“Papa, where’s my red tie?”

As per usual, things were hectic in the Dasilva-Higgins household as they rushed to get out the door. They were to be at the Kelly’s in an hour for their annual Christmas festivities and the drive from their little apartment in Brooklyn was a good forty minutes from the former’s in Washington Heights.

Race and Albert exchanged stressed glances as they finished slipping on their button down shirts and in Albert’s case, fixing his hair.

“Coming, sweet pea,” Albert called, abandoning his custom made hair dryer and grabbing a few ponytail holders from behind the mirror for Emelia.

Race smoothed down his shirt, adjusting his belt one more time before toeing on his dress shoes and hurrying down the hallway before Andrew could work himself into a frenzy.

“Bud, it’s right here,” He said, plucking Andrew’s child sized tie from the doorknob and holding it up for his son to see.

“Oh, phew!” Andrew wiped his forehead dramatically, before taking the tie from his father and wrapping it carefully around his neck, making a few random knots before turning to his father, grinning triumphantly.

“Look, Papa,” He exclaimed, “I tied it all by myself!”

“You sure did, dude,” Race said, biting back laughter at the mess of knots and kneeling in front of Andrew, “And you did a great job, but I think we’re going for something a little different,” he gently untied the tie and expertly knotted it in a double windsor, securing it neatly under Andrew’s collar, “There you go, bud,” he said, standing and ruffling his son’s hair, “All set.”

Emelia came sliding in a moment later, her newly done french braid flying behind her. She knelt by her bed, rifling around underneath for a few moments before extracting her new pair of Mary-Janes.

“Daddy!” She shouted, placing the shoes on the floor in front of her. When Albert didn’t come, she screamed again, “DADDY!”

“Peanut,” Race said, kneeling in front of his daughter, “What’s wrong? Daddy might be busy, is it something I can help with?”

“I needa put on my shoes,” Emelia pouted, “But I want Daddy’s help.”

Race raised his eyebrows, but before he could respond, Albert peeked in head in, “Did someone call?”

“Yeah,” Emelia said, jumping ot her feet and barreling over Race to get to Albert, “Help me with my shoes.”

Albert bent down on one knee, taking the shoes from her and giving her a pointed look, “Help you with your shoes, what?”

Emelia scrunched her nose for a moment, before adding, “Please?”

“That’s better,” Albert praised, helping her sit down so her could slip on her shoes.

Five minutes later, they were out the door, Race and Albert each carrying large bags filled with presents for everyone. The ride to the Kelly’s was spent playing Christmas music obnoxiously loud, while Andrew and Emelia attempted to sing along to lyrics they didn’t know. As Race belted along, he couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for Albert, who was never the biggest fan of Christmas nor Christmas music, but as he cast a look at his husband, he could make out the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Why if it isn’t my favorite niece and nephew!” Jack Kelly greeted Emelia and Andrew and they ran to hug his legs, “Are you guys having a good Christmas so far?”

“Yeah!” Emelia squealed, pulling away to hug Katherine instead, Andrew following suit.

“That’s very good to hear,” Katherine smiled, “I think Teddy and Cynthia are in the playroom if you two want to go play with them.”

Andrew and Emelia exchanged excited grins before running off in the direction of their cousins.

“Still never understood why you named your kid Cynthia,” Albert mumbled as he shrugged off his jacket.

“Babe,” Race scolded, lightly thumping Albert on the arm, “Have some tact.”

“I’ll have you know,” Jack said, defensively, “Cynthia was my mother’s name before she died.”

Albert had the decency to look a little ashamed as he shrugged, “You do you, I guess.”

“Anyway,” Race interjected, holding up the bags he was carrying, “We brought presents and food.”

“Oh, I’ll take the dishes from you,” Katherine said, taking one of the bags from Race, “You can go ahead and put the presents under the tree.”

“Thanks, Kathy,” Race said, “Merry Christmas.”

Twenty minutes later, Davey, Crutchie, and Spot had arrived and the seven adults were lounging around in the living room, passing around a bottle of wine.

“Yeah,” Jack said, taking Crutchie’s offer for more wine, “Teddy got in a fight the other day. Some sucker was picking on Cynthia and he soaked ‘em right in the eye.”

“Damn, Kelly,” Crutchie scoffed, “Sure is your kid.”

“We tried really hard to be mad at him,” Katherine sighed, “But we honestly were proud more than anything.”

“I mean, yeah,” Albert said, stretching his arm across the back of the couch, “First thing we taught Andrew and Em was to stand up for themselves. Don’t take shit from no one.”

“Speak of the devils,” Race muttered as four pairs of footsteps could be heard pattering down the hallway.

Sure enough, all four kids came bursting into the living room, skidding to a halt when they saw all the adults gathered.

“Heya, kiddos,” Spot said, eyeing them in amusement, “Ya need something?”

“Uh,” Andrew, who was at the front of their little parade, glanced behind him at the others, “We just wanted to look at the presents.”

“You can look,” Race said, gesturing to the tree, “But no opening any until after dinner.”

No one missed the way the kids’ shoulders slumped in defeat, but none of them argued. They slid to their knees in front of the tree, passing around boxes to one another and taking guesses of the contents. Race and Katherine disappeared into the kitchen at one point to finish dinner, while Jack and Spot carried the craft table in from the playroom to set up for the kids.

“Daddy,” Andrew whined, laying himself across Albert’s lap, “Is dinner almost ready?”

“Soon, champ,” Albert said, stroking a hand through Andrew’s blond locks, “Have you and your sister washed your hands yet?”

“Oh!” Andrew leapt up, launching himself off of Albert’s stomach, “C’mon, Emmy, we gotta go wash our hands!”

Albert groaned, rubbing his gut where Andrew had pushed himself from, “My god, they’re gonna be the death of me.”

Davey laughed, clapping him on the back as he stood to help Race and Katherine take food out from the kitchen, “That’s life, daddy.”

“Okay, it’s cute coming from my kids, but you?” Albert stood, too, casting a disgusted look at Davey, “No.”

“Yeah,” Race said, materializing next to them, holding a pan of mac and cheese, “Only three people that can call him ‘Daddy’ are me, Em, and Andrew.”

“Gross, Higgins,” Crutchie called from his chair.

“I wish he were lying,” Albert murmured as Race cackled.

“What?” Davey asked.

“Hm?” Albert countered, fixing Davey with an innocent smile.

“You just,” Davey trailed off, looking between Race and Albert, “you know what? Nevermind.”

Race grinned, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he set the macaroni down on the table, just in time for the kids to come running back.

“Papa!” Emelia said, making grabby hands at Race, who hoisted her onto his hip, “My hands are squeaky clean, look!” She shoved her tiny hands into Race’s face. He flinched, rearing back a little at the sudden movement.

“I see, darling,” He laughed, placing her down in one of the chairs at the kids’ table, “good job.”

Teddy and Cynthia joined them a moment later, calling for their own parents to help them with food. Once they were situated, the adults settled at the larger table and begun passing around the various dishes.

“My god,” Spot moaned through a mouthful of lasagna, “I always forget how goddamn-”

“Language, Conlon.”

“Shit, sorry, Kelly, FUCK.”

“Take your time.”

Spot took a deep breath as the others laughed around him, “I always forget how good of a cook you are, Racer.”

“Thanks, man,” Race said, shoving an entire roll into his mouth.

Katherine studied him with a smirk, “You haven’t changed one bit since college.”

Race let out an offended smirk through his mouthful of bread, making him look like an upset chipmunk, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Papa!” Andrew called from his seat, “no speaking with your mouth full!”

Race blushed and swallowed as the adults all laughed, “Sorry, bambino, you’re right.”

XXX

“Present time!” Cynthia shouted, launching from her place on the couch and onto her father’s back. They had long since finished and the adults had tricked the kids into playing several rounds of Twister while they relaxed off their food comas.

But now the temptation had seemingly returned and all the children were gathered eagerly around the tree, waiting to open gifts.

Jack let out a soft ‘oof’ as he maneuvered his daughter into his arms securely, “Aight, sweetie, we can open presents now.”

All of the kids cheered loudly and Andrew rushed off to find his fathers. He returned a moment later, pulling Race and Albert behind him.

“Alright, dude,” Race said, nudging Andrew back over to the tree, “Dig in.”

Andrew, Emelia, Cynthia, and Teddy crawled around the perimeter of the tree, ripping open present after present.

“Oh my gosh, Daddy! Papa! Look!” Emelia scrambled over to Race and Albert, holding up a shoe box, “I got dance shoes!”

“Lookit that, sweet pea,” Race beamed, “you know what that means?”

“I can start taking you and Daddy’s classes?” She asked, hopefully.

“Yep!” Albert said, “You can start taking classes, love.”

“Yay!” Emelia shrieked, running over to Andrew, who had also opened a new pair of dance shoes, “We get to take Daddy and Papa’s classes!”

“Didn’t know if they’d actually be interested,” Albert said, leaning his head on Race’s shoulders.

“Yeah, I’m a little surprised they’re this excited,” Race said, “I didn’t realize they paid so much attention to the classes we’ve brought them to.”

“Me neither.”

“Not complaining, though,” Race yawned, “Imagine: The Dasilva-Higgins- a family of dancers.”

Albert leaned up, brushing a kiss to Race’s jaw, “You tired?”

Race shrugged, casting his gaze back towards their children, who were now comparing new DS games, “A little.”

“We can corral the squirts soon.”

“Soon,” Race agreed.

XXX

“Alright, bud,” Albert said, plucking a half-asleep Andrew out of the pile of wrapping paper that surrounded the tree, “Time for us to go.”

Race had already extracted Emelia from the mess and was carefully putting her presents into a small garbage bag, paying mind to her sleeping form in his other arm.

Andrew nodded sleepily, resting his head on his father’s shoulder and dozing off again. Race and Albert took the kids out to the car, strapping them in their booster seats and placing their present bags securely under their seats before going back inside to bid the others goodbye.

The ride back home seemed shorter than the commute to the Kelly’s and they arrived a half-hour later in front of their apartment complex. Careful not to wake either of the children, Race and Albert carried Andrew and Emelia up to their apartment, opting to take their presents in in the morning.

They helped the still sleeping children into their pajamas, then carefully tucked them into bed.

“Daddy?” Emelia asked, opening her eyes halfway.

“Hey, sweetie,” Albert said, kneeling by her bed, “Did you have a good Christmas?”

Emelia nodded, tucking herself deeper into her pillow and closing her eyes again.

“I’m glad,” Albert smiled, kissing her on the forehead, “Merry Christmas, sweet pea.”

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” a pause, “Merry Christmas, Papa.”

Race ran a hand through her hair, which was wavy from the french braid, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Andrew asleep?” Albert asked as he stood, nodding to the lump in his son’s bed.

“Out like a light.”

Albert grinned fondly, calling out anway, “Night, Andrew.”

There was no response and Race snickered, “Heavy sleeper,” he commented, “Just like you.”

They left the room, closing the door softly as they did so. Albert showered as Race washed up and they climbed into their bed, cuddling into each other immediately.

“Another successful Christmas,” Albert said, contentedly into Race’s chest.

“Yup,” Race said, “Another one for the books.”

Albert hummed, “Merry Christmas, Racer.”

“Merry Christmas, Albie.”

awwww cute dads and cute kids

back to angst tomorrow sorrryyy

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #spot conlon #jack kelly #katherine plumber #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #emelia and andrew dasilva-higgins #fluffy shit #''daddy'#sorry saph #dark times #oof #anyway #love these kids #YEET

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nalyra-dreaming · 6 years ago

Text

So I always post a recap, mostly for myself 🙂 (for later^^), but I hope you will enjoy as well! (Got a kiss from Will there and Hannibal didn’t kill me! – Win win!!) 🙂

I arrived on Wednesday afternoon this time, planning on working on Ravage stuff that evening with Romina, but we ended up with Electra and room service instead, which was awesome. (Thank you soooo much for the little firefly man dear!!!)

Thursday was Ravage ToDos then and London – going by Fuller’s on the way

getting my daughter a Harry Potter „Hedwig“ (as requested^^)

and dinner at the Michelin-star „Aquavit“ (Skandinavian Restaurant – the Blood Pudding was DELICIOUS!)

and then Pinter’s Theatre, watching Martin Freeman’s performance.

(We tried to catch him at the Stage Door, but he came out after 2h(?) and we left after 1h in the snow, because you know, Mads and Richard wouldn’t go so well with pneumonia^^).

Friday I spent a LOT of time trying to catch all the Fannibals I saw, say hi and invite them to sign „my Mads“ – bought back then for the German Comic Con 2016 (when he canceled) this has now been utterly filled up with Fannibal love from all over the place! (And Evalie brought her Will! It’s the same one from the meme photo you might have seen btw^^)

(And I had him sign it, too :))) Picked up lots of beautiful things from the con, but they’re mostly in the big package still and on their way home.

Opening ceremony had standing ovations, driving home the fact, that these people were actually there!

Truly amazing.

Meet and greet was fun but short, they only did a few minutes each.

Still enough time to realize a few interesting things about them, Scott being really aware of what we put on the table for example and interested in Radiance (looking through it ) and trying the Hannigram smarties that @TheCakeIsPeople brought, Aaron loving that people liked the Go-Getters and his other projects so much, Jeremy very unsure at that point still (Twitter feed later showed he always said the same things^^) but very deep and elaborate answers already, Richard interested in where everybody was from and commenting when he knew the place, Mads on beer 4 (afaik) at our table and a bit brisk, recognizing fans he met before, talking swedish with the Fannibals there and refusing to put on the bite mask we had laid out (as decoration) on sight^^^^. Darn. 😛

On Saturday I had 5 (!) photo ops, group with Romina, Aaron & Scott, 2 Mads and a Mads and Richard one. I took the cardboard to the photo op with Mads and we had to redo the photo 4 times, because of the glare :))) (Starfury put them all up for digital download, wohooo) and he was amazed by all the signatures on it!! Also – really life size 😛

The other was with something for the Kickstarter, I can’t show you yet^^.

Richard didn’t really pose that day, he was very stiff, hands in his pockets, standing to the side – we wondered if he maybe had a bad con experience before. (That was different day 2, yeah, good job Fannibals!!). Unfortunately you cannot see the “I’m fine” on my shirt, that’s what I was pointing at^^

Panels from noon, with Aaron and Scott being their usual hilarious selfs, Mads kind and witty (even though some of the questions were really… ugh. Disgraceful – someone asked him if he got „excited“ in the sex scenes for Polar(!) and someone else told him he didn’t have a fashion sense (like what the actual fuck?)).

Richard had an introduction interview with Sean on the first day, with only a few audience questions. Again, I think he was a bit … IDK, careful. On Sunday he did an open panel and was way more relaxed there as well! And he is SO WITTY and intelligent! And much more good looking in person than on screen somehow. Like really. A bit scary. :))

Mads is very nice, smelling lightly of cigarettes (well, duh^^), it was funny to watch/experience the poses he switches through for photos^^. Very easy to ask and stand next to. My hands were shaking nonetheless^^.

Aaron and Scott gave me one of the best hugs ever, I already had my pose with them from last time and told them so, just wanting a hug 🙂

Signing was fun, Mads and Richard, with Mads signing my three books (not showing you Ravage yet!), and I showed him the scene with the illustration of „Will pushing Hannibal in a wheelchair, at Bedelia’s dinner“ – because he had said in his panel that Will would have really enjoyed having the upper hand in S4, pushing Hannibal around in a wheelchair(!!). AND I FUCKING WROTE THAT. (Not actually in „A blackish red hue“ (at least the Ao3 version! (The book version has that scene)) but the image has created for a scene EXACTLY of that (and then adapted into the book, with permission of the artist(!)). I just…. I WANT TO SEE THAT, DAMMIT!! He said „Very good call“ :))) And then personalized it to me <33

Also, at that point he knew about the cardboard cutout being from the GCC, so they must’ve talked about it backstage! And I asked him to sign it all over his own face which he did, grinning.

And he’s finally on the LA Times ad, completing it.

AND on the sword sheath, checking all the signatures and commenting on them. He wanted to know where it was from and I explained and he was amazed. (Since he and Richard signed so small (in comparison to Eddie Izzard^^), I was able to put Scott, Aaron and Jeremy on it as well – you can’t see Scott here because he didn’t press that hard, his signature is above Aaron’s).

Oh, and Mads didn’t know that Hannibal got an Emmy nom that year we put up the ad in the LA Times – he was surprised and asked me which ones and of COURSE I’d had forgotten. Hope his team relays him the info via the tag on Twitter^^.

Richard just grinned a bit when I told him that the book is my S4-8 and that it starts at the Motel. He had an interesting expression on his face, I can’t really describe it, maybe a „would’ve sported dimples if he actually had them“, you know. Amusement-tinged. Also very interested in the signatures on the sword sheath!

Life goals. :)))

I had dinner in the bar late afternoon (the London Pride ale is very good imho^^), and then the cosplay contest was on and Noah won, yay, as flaming Chilton!!! They put up the incredible Wendigo-Cake there, from KitchenConjurer – it was cut up the next day, because Mads wasn’t at the cosplay contest.

Don’t remember what I did after the cosplay, lol. Ahem. 🙂 I think I went to my room because I was exhausted. ^^ All the nerves shot from the photo shoots and signings^^.

Next morning were more photos – another with Richard (and a little red dragon by PersephoneSiren!!!!!), who was so much more relaxed that day, and one with Jeremy – who was a bit bewildered by my ask to give me Bunny Ears – and THEN went and did the same expression Hugh Dancy and Joe Anderson did!!!!!! ROFL. Amazing!

Incredible panels followed – I would invite everyone who hasn’t to read through the Twitter transcript tweets – Aaron and Scott gave Mads a run for his money – aka he never stood a chance :))))

And then they went and cut the ear and nose/chin off the Wendigo cake and Scott kissed Aaron with its lips and you should have seen Mads’ face :))))) Hilarious! ❤

Jeremy is a panel revelation(!), I would pay REAL money to have him, Richard and Hugh on one stage, talking. These three must be so extraordinary together. (They already are separately, just saying… that would be like an intellectual orgasm).

Had to queue early and so I went and got my autos from Aaron and Scott and Jeremy then, who were soooo sweet and appreciative. And Aaron smiled when he saw the Go-Getters DVD, gave the DVD inside a little pet and signed it to me with a very sweet personalization.

Can’t wait for his new film btw, because the Go-Getters is hilarious and you should definitely watch it!!!!!

Another bar visit for food and ale and then the closing ceremony. Already.

It’s been almost 5 days and yet the time flew.

I cried.

And then I went to my room and packed up everything, creating an impromptu bubblewrap-suitcase. Went through fine, fortunately.

It’s been incredible and I will gladly come back no matter the guests (though these were incredible of course!), who knows maybe I can go to FFT3 if/when it happens as well, and I hope I manage some meat-ups. I met more people than I can remember, spent some very precious times in deep discussions on not so easy subjects, which I love and which is so, so, SO important.

If you’re reading this – thank you for doing so!

And if I met you there – thank you for making my weekend. Because the guests is one thing, but meeting you guys…. that is incredible.

I hope you enjoyed this 🙂

Feel free to ask if you have questions!

Personal RDC5 recap So I always post a recap, mostly for myself 🙂 (for later^^), but I hope you will enjoy as well!

#fannibals #hannibal #london #personal #pictures #rdc5 #recap #mads mikkelsen #richard armitage #aaron abrams #scott thompson #jeremy davies

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skeletonwoman · 8 years ago

Text

My Neck, My Back (Peter Maximoff)

this is not at all sexual. it is instead a joke at the pain that comes w being linked to Peter Maximoff

Request: hi there!! i'm so glad you do soulmate stuff! could u do an x-men soulmate AU with peter maximoff x reader where each other's soulmate gets the same bruises or injuries the other one does and throughout his life peter has accidentally bumped into things and gotten bruised but he has fast healing so it goes away but when he meets his soulmate (reader) she has tons of scars and bruises and she like "cmon peter really ? at least watch where you're goin when you speed. damn"

You examine your latest nick, a cut that’d literally split open in the middle of class and started gushing blood.

About ten centimeters long, you’re regretting ever being interested in this dumb soulmate business.

And if there was ever a time when you wanted to self-harm, if even to just make this idiot stop hurting himself, now would be it.

But self-harming is bad and distantly, in a deep, dark recess of your soul, you love this soulmate of yours.

“Ouch! That’s a bad one!” Mrs Emmie winces, dabbing at the cut with a pad of gauze and you grit your teeth. She doesn’t need an answer after all this time. “That soulmate of yours better look out when you find him.”

“I’m gonna make him eat an entire candle.”

She laughs loudly and you hiss as she dribbles some antiseptic onto the gash. “They’re going to deserve it after all this. Dinner candle or one of those witchcraft ones?”

“Oh, I haven’t decided. The dinner ones would be faster to get down but there’s more to those thick black ones witches use,” you say, exhaling a long breath as she pins the bandage together. It’s done. Phew.

“I clipped some razor wire!” Peter announces, bouncing into the nurses office, who sighs and examines the cut.

“At least it’s clean.” He sighs again. “Really, Peter, how is your soulmate supposed to do anything but jail you once they meet you?”

“Oh, they’re gonna love me! I’m quirky and rough and tumble! Everyone loves that.” He laughs, ignoring the look on Nurse Kens face. If anyone is going to love him, it’ll be his soulmate.

Maybe not his dad.

But definitely his soulmate.

A wild scream tears from your lips as burning pain licks up your arms and singes your clothes to your skin.

“Burn in hell, mutant freak!” The running assailant shouts to the wind but you can’t hear him. You can’t hear anything over the roaring pain on your skin and the screams coming from your lips.

“What do we do?”

“Someone stop him!”

“Call an ambulance!”

“What the f*ck!” Peter screams, pain so harsh he nearly blacks out assaulting him. Through blurry eyes he watches welts, blisters and sunken raw patches appear on his arms- wrist to elbow on one side and a watch sized band on the other. Tiny bubbles spot his hands and fingers and he screams again, red tinting his vision.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you. You’re safe.” Someone says and your panicked wheezes slow from race car to police chase. “We’re gonna fix this, okay? First, we need to peel this off though, so it’s going to hurt.”

“Please…” You manage between whimpers and apologies blur through the air, getting lost in your cries.

“It’s okay, Peter! You’re going to be okay!” The professors voice booms through his mind but he can’t stop, his body vibrating, trying to run from the pain even as they strap him down.

“This didn’t happen here-”

“His soulmate…”

“Find them. Now.”

The words are distant and he can’t think, can’t understand how he’s never felt this much pain before, like something burrowed its way into his skin and it’s on fire.

“Here we go, we’re going to stop the burning but it’s going to hurt.”

Something wet runs over your arms and you feel a starburst of pain, then relief. Once the liquid stops, the pain returns, steadier and less insistent but still just as biting.

“This girls being transferred.”

“They can’t transfer her!”

“They just did, she’s got to be in the van in twenty.”

“She’s in no condition to go anywhere, I’ve barely touched these burns! Who ordered this?”

“Government. Some branch, they listed a bunch of mumbo jumbo and hit all the key words. It’s out of our hands so either work fast or step back.”

“F*ck.”

“We’ve got her. Names Y/N Y/L/N and she was at a mutant rally when someone threw acid.”

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the name bounces around his skull, worse than pong, and he feels his limbs slowly stilling.

Y/N is his soulmate.

Someone threw acid and it got on her.

The burning in his arms lessens, or takes a backseat, as a pit of rage starts to bubble in his stomach.

“She’s on her way, Peter. You’re both safe.”

“God, are these bruises? Where did they come from- are they new?”

“They look like…”

“Yeah. This poor girls in for it when she meets her soulmate judging by all these scars.”

“I wonder who caused them, I mean if they’re tying down her other half… You know?”

“Yeah.” Warm fingers lift your eyelids and a light flashes through your vision. You’re not dying, relax. Something’s stuck in your mouth and you want to gag or spit it out but you’re stuck. Floating, detached.

“She’s a little warm but she seems to be doing okay. Check those burns, see if they’re still cooking.”

A rustling sounds, then a moan hums through your lips as material brushes your wrist and arm.

“We’re good.”

“Good.”

Peter plays dot to dot with your pockmarked arm, drawing a giraffe whos markings are your spotted and scar damaged skin.

It’s cute and artistic, sure.

It’s also your burned and ugly arm.

“What the hell are you doing, jeez?” You hiss, snatching your limb from his grip and he whines, watching you with a puppy gaze before he’s zipping away.

Seconds later, a sharp scratch tears across your cheek bone and you hiss, your fingers reaching up and coming away with a touch of blood.

“Peter!”

“You called, babe? Oh, crap! Branch smacked me in the face.” He grins, holding out a wind crushed flower, and you can’t help pausing in your fury to get up and examine the delicate cut on his face, ignoring the offering all together. The cuts not terrible and there’s no blood on his yet.

“Stop that!” You snap, glaring at him ferociously. If only you could just shove him or something but you’re delicate and what hurts him hurts you.

Stupid literally.

“Stop running without thinking! It hurts, jerk!” You feel tears well up, years of pent up frustration surfacing all at once and his bright expression drops.

“Y/N,” he whispers, voice desperate as he hesitantly reaches for you.

“No!” You snap, stepping out of his grasp. “You hurt me and didn’t care! I was always careful because it wasn’t just my body! It’s not just your body, Peter, it’s mine!” You’re shouting now and his shoulders are hunched, expression downcast in the face of your onslaught.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, nervously wavering toward you and away. You stand like that for a moment, Peter apologetic and confused, your rage filtering away to leave a pit of pain.

“Now I want a hug!”

“Sorry!” The word is whipped away in the speed of his movement, his arms around you in under a tenth of a second, your head cradled to his chest while he presses a flurry of kisses to the crown of your head.

“And slow down.”

“Sorry,” he says again, movements slowing obviously as he smooths your hair from your face and rubs slow circles over your back. “I didn’t… I never meant to hurt you. It never occurred to me, like I knew you got what I got, but it never sunk in.”

“I was never real,” you say, and the way he tenses around you tells you it’s true. “It’s okay, I understand. You weren’t really real to me either, just… You were someone who kept hurting me, like in the middle of a soccer game when you burned your mouth something awful and I stood there for an entire minute just fanning my empty mouth.”

He laughs, softly, and guides you toward the couch you’d been on moments ago.

“I remember that, I think. Tell me more times I ruined you day.”

You laugh, letting him take your hand again, his thumb circling on your palm. “Like the time I was taking my driving test and in the middle of traffic, my ankle broke? I could thank you for that one considering I passed when I managed to get the instructor and I safely out of traffic while I screamed in pain.”

“Yeah, don’t thank me,” he says, cringing and you laugh.

“Or the time Mum was about to let me finally have a puppy and I burst out with twelve cuss words right in her face because something happened to my ass and when I looked, there were cuts and burns all over it.” You raise your eyebrows at him this time, the implication obvious and he is the one to laugh now.

“It’s not… Scott bet me I couldn’t sit on a grille for two minutes straight. He didn’t tell me there were nails on it either,” he shrugs and you stare, your jaw dropped. Your soulmate is an idiot. “I probably should have found you earlier, your expressions telling me I’m an idiot.”

“Oh, no!” You coo and he frowns a little, “you’re a straight up train wreck with a moronic captain and 206 innocent passengers, most of which have soft children.”

“Why 206? And soft children?”

“Your bones and organs, idiot.” You groan and he snorts, affection shining on his face.

i hooooope this was what you wanted (sry if it’s crapola)

#peter maximoff fic #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen fic #xmen

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love-in-nature · 8 years ago

Text

My Neighbor Fen’harel Chapter 7: Why

Read full story on my AO3.

The rest of the week was relatively uneventful. Emmy wasn’t plagued by any more unwanted dreams, and Solas avoided conversations in his bedroom, so she hadn’t heard him again. Fen'harel hadn’t e-mailed her since their last chat, not that she checked multiple times a day. Darcy had adjusted to the new apartment. Everything was officially unpacked.

As for work, the days went by with a mixture of transcriptions, digitizing of old photos, and working through a particularly extensive collection, which had come in shortly before she had started, centered around the Hero of Fereldon. It was interesting, but there was a lot for her to work through. On top of that was the usual e-mails, entering of meeting minutes, and general reference questions sent her way by librarians when they needed extra help or had a patron who wanted access to particularly delicate materials, something her or Merrill would need to supervise.

Today was a Friday which meant a new shipment of donations had come in early that morning. She’d arrived at work by 6 to meet the delivery and since had been working through it with Merrill. As usual, much of it was things that they had no use for. One only needed so many diagrams of old toilets after all. Part of preserving history was deciding what took priority since it was simply impossible to properly store and catalog every single bit of it.

Merrill spoke behind her, “Another toilet. By the Dread Wolf, how many of these are there?”

Emmy snorted, “There have been an awful lot of them with this one. You’d think we were receiving donations from a toilet factory or something. Whoever this private collector was their grandparents must have had some odd fascination for them. Or a kink.”

There was quiet for a moment, “That’s a thing? How does…”

Emmy finished up cataloging the last bit of paper in the box in front of her. When she’d finished typing in the information, she tucked the document into its correct pile and stood, “I’m not sure I want to know, but I’m fairly certain it’s a thing. There’s a kink for everything.”

She glanced over at Merrill as she went to grab a nearby cart. Merrill was shaking her head and mumbled, “Sometimes people confuse me.”

“That makes two of us.” Emmy started moving her document piles onto the cart as she asked, “Ready to take the stuff down? We might actually be out of here by five for once.”

Merrill laughed as she stood to gather her piles, “Oh, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happened.”

When they got to the elevator Merrill didn’t question why Emmy chose not to use it. Merrill knew her habits. Instead of using the elevator, she would push a cart into the elevator, hit the appropriate button, and then take the stairs and meet the items. It was never an issue. The elevator was ridiculously slow. Still, Emmy had braced herself for questions the first few times. When none had come, she’d started to relax. The lack of prodding was just another thing to love about her new co-worker.

Just as she was reaching the bottom of the stairs, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Merrill pushed out the cart and looked up, then her eyes went past Emmy’s shoulder, and she beamed.

“Professor Evans! It’s been a while.”

Emmy’s stomach dropped as she turned to find the last man she wanted to see. He stood holding a medium sized tome in his gloved hands. On his lower half, he wore pants that she refused to acknowledge flattered his thighs and sculpted rear. On top, he had a neatly tucked white button up under a dark vest; the sleeves had been rolled up revealing the lightly freckled skin of his forearms.

At Merrill’s words, he had turned his head to look at them. She only caught a flash of his eyes on her before they went to Merrill and he gave the woman an easy smile, “Hello, Merrill. It has been a busy first week back, so I have been unable to make it here much.”

Emmy’s eyes narrowed, and she frowned, “This isn’t a public part of the archives. These items are—”

“I have been given permission. I am well aware of how to handle such things.”

Merrill pushed the cart forward, cheery and completely unaware of the tension that sparked in the air, “Professor Evans has a lot of experience handling old documents. In fact, he has been able to teach me a few new things.” She laughed as she pushed the cart to the area where the first pile of papers was to be stored.

“Be that as it may, these are my responsibility now and—”

He spoke over her as his eyes went back to the book, “Why is this filed under the fall of Arlathan?”

She ground her teeth, “Excuse me?”

“It seems to me this would be more suited under something to do with Tevinter history.” Without looking up, he carefully turned the page and added, “It would perhaps aid you with your answer if you came close enough to see the item in question. I would not bite you if you did.”

She noted he hadn’t said he didn’t bite. She couldn’t help but think it was because she knew he did bite, that he wanted her to be reminded of those circumstances when he had bitten her. How many times had she woken up pleased with the light mark he had left behind on her skin?

“Is there a problem?”

Of course, now his eyes were on her, intent as they took in her face. The feeling of heat that rose to her cheeks made her blood boil.

Damn him.

When she spoke she kept her voice cool, “Just a tiny, inconsequential memory, nothing worth note. Honestly, it’s surprising I even recall it.”

A hint of something flashed in his eyes before they quickly flicked back to the book, “I see. In that case, are you going to come look or shall I start reading passages out loud.”

With as much dignity as she could manage she stormed over to him. The way he held the book forced her to move close to see the text, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body against her skin. It was like sunshine on a warm day and his scent—

Traitorous. Horrible, stupid body.

She forced her eyes to focus on the text in front of her. Ancient Tevene still was not her strongest area of expertise, but she was getting better. As she translated it her mouth moved unconsciously going over each word.

When he spoke, it was hushed so that Merrill couldn’t hear it from her place down the stacks, “You still do that thing with your mouth when you translate.”

At his words, her eyes flicked up to meet his. He was looking at her with that piercing gaze she knew so intimately. The one that had always made her feel more bare and exposed than any time she had been nude with him.

She stood there completely paralyzed by his examination, unmoving even as the voice of reason screamed at her she needed to back away. Even as it reminded her that, in her study of the book, she had pressed herself against his arm and this was not good. Tendrils of longing had already started to wind their way through her, thick and overwhelming.

When she managed to push out words, they were much less chastising than she’d intended. Her body continuing its treachery, “I fail to see how what my mouth does is any concern of yours.”

His eyes flicked to her lips then back to the book, “It is distracting.”

“Oh forgive me, I thought you were here out of professional interest. I will strive to spare you from temptation in the future.”

“Spare me?”

“Yes, temptation is the road to all things bad after all or something like that.”

She saw his fingers flex against the cover, “How do you know I wish to be spared?”

Her heart did an uneven thump in her throat, “Excuse me?”

“I believe you heard me, but I will repeat,” his face remained completely neutral, but she greatly doubted she was holding her composure nearly so well, “How–”

Merrill’s voice chirped in from his other side, “All filed.” Merrill’s eyes went to the book he had been holding, the book that the two of them hadn’t even really addressed, “You two still figuring out the filing for that thing?”

The suddenness of Merrill’s interruption finally got a reaction from Solas. It came in the form of the slightest jump, but it was enough that his arm temporarily knocked against one of her breasts. The action sent a jolt of electricity down her spine and had the small hairs on her nape standing on end.

At least it was enough to finally get her to put space between them. Her voice was impressively neutral when she spoke, “I recognize the text now. It is written by a Tevinter, but it is about the fall of Arlathan. The man was traveling and saw aspects of it, which is the key interest in the diary. Therefore, it is prudent to file it here instead of amongst things related to ancient Tevinter. The rest of the diary holds nothing that we didn’t know about Tevinter through other texts.”

She heard him inhale as he shut the book and placed it back in its proper spot. Then he pulled off his gloves, and she saw the smallest hint of a tremble in his fingers. It was childish, silly, but it made her smile.

Then he spoke, and her smile left, “I wonder, why you assume that this man’s words are fact. We know the Tevinters have a habit of taking and twisting history to their ends, especially when it comes to the People.” As he pulled off the last glove he turned to face her, “I do not mean insult, I am simply curious if you have reasons or are simply taking the words of a dead Tevinter as truth.”

How dare he. He comes into her archives and questions if she is doing her job properly. After all, he had done to her. After everything, he pulls this shit. Arrogant son of a bitch.

“Are you suggesting that I don’t do my research?”

“Not necessarily. I simply was wondering at your reasoning behind believing the diary contained truths instead of made up tales based on things Tevinter found and stole as their own.”

She was surprised that fire wasn’t coming out of her ears in some cartoonish mockery, such was the rage that boiled in her blood. She wanted to wipe that fucking calm look off his face, to push him against the shelves and kick his legs wider. Then she’d put her knee in the little triangle of his groin and pull herself up him, making him grunt with pain.

She’d rip open the collar of his shirt and put her hands around that long graceful neck of his. Then she’d squeeze and squeeze as he struggled beneath her. The scent of his skin, sandalwood, books, and ink, filling her nostrils as she felt the heat of him under her fingertips.

“What are you imagining, Miss Lavellan; your expression is,” He paused a beat, and his tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, “filthy.”

Totally forgetting Merrill was standing right there, she spoke, and her voice came out so husky it would make a phone sex operator sound like a nun, “Bare hands on your neck, strangling you.”

His eyes went dark, “Is that your new kink.”

“It seems to be one you alone bring out in me.”

His pupils got even bigger, eyebrows lifting as he opened his mouth then closed it. It would appear that she had rendered him speechless. It was beautiful.

Merrill cleared her throat, eyes wide as she looked between the two of them, “Are you two–”

“No.” They answered at the same time, in the same tone, as they continued to stare each other down.

“Right. I’m going to uhm… go take the cart back now.” Merrill rushed away, and Emmy hardly registered the ding of the elevator as she went.

With one wide stride, Solas moved, so he was so close to her that the tips of his perfectly polished shoes touched her run down brown boots. She swallowed, her knees feeling like jelly. She wanted to slap him, to tear his eyes out, to rake her nails along his skin, to have his mouth on hers, to devour him as he devoured her in return.

When he spoke his tone was so cool and collected you would think they were two old friends having a conversation over coffee about the latest book they’d read. “Why are you here, Em?”

Her heart clenched at the shortened use of her name, “Don’t call me that.” Then a thought came to her and she glared at him as best she could, given how close he was, “Why? Do you think I came because you were here? That I hunted you down or something?”

Finally, an emotion crossed his face, a small hint of surprise chased quickly by the slight tilt of his head, “Did you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t. After it finally sunk in that you’d disappeared, I didn’t look, not even once.” Then her voice fell to a whisper, “It hurt too much.”

“Em.”

She saw his hand move in the side of her vision and took several large steps back away from him, “Stop calling me that, I hate it. And I meant it hurt too much then. When it first happened. After a few months…” She paused then forced the lie out even as her body seemed to protest it, “I just didn’t care.”

With one last glance in the direction of the nearby stacks she turned from him without allowing her eyes to look at his face, only sweeping over his chest, “You know what happened. Everyone knows. After all of that, I just wanted a chance to have a normal life. Try to have a new start.” She gave a soft bitter laugh as she started walking away, “Only my luck could have that attempt end up like this.”

Sure she was no longer fighting to “save the world,” but her life had still managed to remain complicated in creative and messed up ways. Just as she was starting up the stairs, a hand was on her elbow, firm but not enough that she couldn’t yank free if she wanted to.

“I am sorry, Emmy.”

For some reason she didn’t pull away but froze, only moving enough so she could turn her head to look at his chest, the strong line of his jaw, “It was a long time ago. I got over it a long time ago. There’s no need to go there; I don’t want anything from you.”

A lie. Such a huge lie that it burned like acid on her tongue.

“I know, and it is selfish of me, but I need you to know. What we—” She saw his deep breath in the shuddering lift of his chest, “What I felt, it was not a lie.”

His words made her knees go weak once more. She wanted to sink to the floor with the force of them pressing on her. Part of her wanted to really talk to him, to ask him all the things she had wanted to ask him since the day he left. To discuss everything like the two adults they were. But a bigger part of her couldn’t go there because she was terrified it would break her. Only recently had she started to truly feel like she was piecing herself back together again after everything, she couldn’t shatter again.

Instead of being an adult and facing her feelings she pried her arm free as she said, “Are you done or was there more you needed to say to try to make yourself feel better?”

He frowned, “That was not my intent.”

“Wasn’t it? What was your intent then?” His mouth opened, then shut again, and he shifted. She turned from him once more, “As I thou—”

“I would like if we could be civil. I do not expect you to forgive me. I do not expect your friendship or anything else from you but…” She had stopped on the steps, and he paused to find the right words, “I would not make your life harder if I could help it. You must understand that I have my reasons for being unable to leave, if I could, I would.”

Why? Why did those words sting so terribly? If he left that would solve her biggest problem, everything would be simple again or as simple as they could be. She could start trying to build a life for herself. A life without him in it.

He wanted to run from her. Again.

She turned to face him; now she stood three steps above him so was able to look down her nose at him, “Tell me, is it habitual for you to run from all your problems or just from me?”

From the look on his face, she was fairly sure she’d landed a solid punch. He took a deep breath then turned towards the elevator. She thought for a moment he would simply leave, but he stopped before turning back and crossing over to her in a few quick steps. He stood on the bottom step so his face was more even with hers and she was within a foot of him.

“You are the only thing that has ever terrified me enough that I felt I had no other choice. Wrong as I was.”

Despite the fact that his words made a familiar desire pool in her lower belly she managed to keep her tone even, “Oh yes, I’m completely terrifying. The thing of nightmares and you always had a choice, Solas. You could have said something, anything. Broken it off like a normal person. Just vanishing was–”

Now when his hand came up to brush a knuckle across her cheek, she didn’t jerk from him or slap him away. She allowed it even as it made her forget how to breathe. “Cruel. Inexcusable. Unforgivable.” He let his hand fall back to his side with a soft sigh, “All would be appropriate words in this case.” He started to turn and go but then paused, “Emmy, you are not of nightmares. You are of the sweetest dreams; the ones that I never even knew I desired, knew I needed, until you.” He shook his head, “I am sorry. Good night Emmy.”

With that he turned from her, once more going to the elevator. She stood in frozen silence as he waited for the doors to open. It felt like an eternity as she fought for words to say, fought to still the racing of her mind. She felt her body shaking and hated herself for it.

When he did finally step into the elevator, he looked at her one last time. His expression visibly pained, tormented, and so lonely it made her ache. She didn’t move, though something deep in her core was pushing her, telling her to go to him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself surrender to him like that again, never again.

The doors closed and he was gone. She stood there for another minute, took a deep breath, and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts with shaking fingers till she found the name she wanted. Then she selected it and started up the stairs, phone ringing in her ear.

After she was halfway up, a voice sounded in her ear, “Emmy, so you do know that you can use the phone for more than just texting! It’s a miracle.”

Despite her best efforts, her voice shook as she said, “I would take you up on those drinks now.”

“I’m getting on my coat now.” There was a beat and some rustling from the other end of the line before a hesitant, “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Just meet me at the Singing Maiden, if Bull is with you bring him along too.”

“As if I could stop him. The man already has his coat on and is half out the door.”

She smiled as she reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall to her office, “Good. I’ll text Sera.” She paused a beat, “And Dorian?”

She heard the slamming of a car door in the background, “Yes?”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Naturally.”

She gave a small genuine laugh, “See you soon, Dorian.”

With that, she hung up and went to gather her things.

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