#OliviaAdamsWrites

[oliviaadamswrites]

Plus Signs - Chapter 10

[Part of Souvenirs Series] [Read via AO3]

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Prompt: Chris and his new lady brought back a souvenir from Disneyland and now begins the fun of telling their families. Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut... all the things. Word Count: 7,086

[<<< Chapter Nine] [[<<< Chapter One]]

CHAPTER NOTES: This chapter has been years in the making. Literally. It has been through many iterations, many mood changes, many "this is garbage I'm completely starting over" hissy fits... and everything in between. I've been sitting on this version for over a year now, terrified to publish this much ANGST. But, it's past time. Chris and the Reader have so much more to experience and, I want to get there. To get there meant I needed to get past this hurdle. Maybe this could have been two chapters, or even three, but... I digress. THE HURDLE... If you are still reading this, after so long... I am so thankful! If you are getting into this fic series for the first time... I am so thankful! I just hope you won't have to experience multiple year long hiatuses, like your for-readers! HA Ok... please enjoy!

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Chris and I had spent Thanksgiving in Boston and would be spending Christmas with my family. The simple fact that Chris was worried about me traveling “so late in the pregnancy” had settled the deal, despite the fact that my doctor had given the go-ahead to travel much further along.

I had quickly found that when it came to me feeling the slightest bit of discomfort, in any way shape or form, it was simply easier to let Chris make the decisions. His constant worry was ever present yet, thankfully, adorable and hadn’t driven me crazy. On the other hand, figuring out a name for this child was going to drive us both absolutely bonkers.

“Please tell me you are joking,” I glared at Chris’s image on my phone.

“Seriously? You don’t like it?” he laughed.

“No, absolutely not. Our child will not be named Christopher Robin.” I propped the device against the decorative bowl on my kitchen table, freeing my hands to cut a piece of chicken in half.

“Fine,” he scoffed, taking a sip of his water. “How’s your chicken?”

“Delicious,” I mumbled with my mouth still full. “Yours?”

“I ruined it, I really did.” He shook his head, staring at the plate in front of him, just off camera. “I just can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

“I told you to be careful to not cook it too long,” I teased, taking a dramatic bite of food.

“You be nice!” He pointed at me with his fork, squinting his eyes. I smiled back mockingly, my lips tight across my teeth. “Don’t make me cut you off from date night!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I pulled my napkin to my chest in mock horror. “You like this too much.”

“I do,” he conceded. “I definitely do. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world?”

“Except actually being here with me… right?” I raised one eyebrow to him.

“Of course! I’d give anything for that!” His eyes went dark as he pursed his lips.

“Hey,” I urged softly. “No crying on date night.”

“I’m not,” Chris shook his head, smiling. “I promise.”

“Good… because we have business to attend to,” I sighed out, pushing my plate away.

“You sound so excited,” he teased.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” I sighed again.

“And?” he pressed.

“And… I’m worried that we’ll never agree on a name.” I felt my face twist in worry.

Hiding my emotions and true feelings from Chris was something that I failed at continuously. It wasn’t just that I was bad at it, it was that he seemed to read between the lines. Always watching the smallest of facial expressions, listening to my tone and inflection. He well and truly heard the things I said and even more so the things I didn’t say.

“We have time. We have so much more time,” he soothed my worries with his low voice.

“Not really,” I countered.

“Really? We have like…” he paused and looked up and to the side with his eyes. “… Seventeen more weeks? We will totally nail down a name before then. Way before then.”

“I guess we don’t really have another choice, do we?” I laughed at the realization.

“No, no we don’t,” he chuckled. “So what’s on the short list?”

“We don’t even have a short list!” I cried out, lifting my hands into the air, exasperated.

“Ok, ok!” He raised his palms to me in surrender. “It’s ok. It’s fine. What’s on the long list?”

I pulled my notebook around and flipped it open, settling on the page littered with scribbles, doodles, lists, scratched out names and notes about people we didn’t like and therefore couldn’t use their names.

“We have roughly sixty five million girl names that we love, forty million girl names that we like… and… exactly 3 names for a boy that we ‘don’t hate’…” I finger quoted the air.

“Well, maybe that means she’s a girl.” Chris was grinning at me from the screen.

“Maybe.” I smiled back. “But we still need to narrow down the girl names and get some more boy names on board.”

“I still say Christopher Robin.” His eyes lit up, knowing that he was pushing my buttons.

“Not only is that silly, but its way too close to your name,” I scowled at him.

“Well, if it is a boy… maybe we could name him after me?” Now his face twisted in an adorable questioning way, one eyebrow up, one scowled, his lips pulled to the side in a smirk.

“I am so glad we are having this conversation on facetime!” I nearly squealed at the sight of his face.

“What?! Why?”

I watched his face turn to innocent concern.

“Just to watch your face right now. In this moment. To see how you’re really feeling, behind what you’re saying, showing on your face!” I leaned forward, layering my arms on the table in front of me, inching closer to my phone.

“Don’t you start talking about my eyebrows right now! Don’t do it!” he play shouted, covering his forehead with one hand.

“I love you,” I laughed the words out. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he sighed back.

“You really want to name your boy after you?”

“I do,” he nodded, smiling.

“I can tell.” I took a deep breath to settle myself and continued. “So, we will name our son, if we have a son, after his father.”

“Really? You mean that?” His face lit up with joy.

“Of course I mean it, you silly man! I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Naming this baby is stressful enough, I’m not going to joke about something that clearly means something to you.” I looked down at my ever expanding belly and ran my hands over and over, smiling. “Tiny Christopher Junior.”

“Tiny Christopher Junior,” he repeated.

“Junior… or the second?” I looked back to the phone now.

“Junior, for sure. Our kid can’t walk around Boston thinking he’s some prince or something, with the second,” he shook his head roughly, chuckling to himself.

“Boston?” My heart fluttered at the thought of moving.

“I’m sure he’ll visit there, at least once in his life, right?” He winked at me, quickly easing my worries. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet and he knew it.

“Of course he will,” I agreed.

“Ok, so we have a boy name picked out,” he cheered. “Air high five!”

We mimicked a high-five between our phones and both erupted into a fit of giggles.

“We are going to be horrible parents!” I roared in laughter.

“No, no no no! We are going to be fun parents!”

“Well, that’s for sure!” I agreed, whole heartedly.

“Alright,” he popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and immediately made a sour face. He turned his face from the camera to swipe the offending food way into his napkin.

“That bad huh?” I pulled my lips between my teeth, attempting to maintain composure.

“Ugh, yes,” he grumbled. “I’m picking the recipe next time.”

“Oh come on! You can’t blame the recipe! Mine turned out just fine.”

“Yeah, well… I’ll pick something that I know I can cook for next time.” He fidgeted with his plate, obviously moving his chicken away from the rest of his food.

“That sounds fair. Just no barbeque. You know I can’t barbeque.”

“Deal.” He poked around his plate some more and then settled his eyes on the screen again. “I’m gonna see you in a few days anyway. Maybe I’ll barbeque for you while I’m there.”

“I like that idea.” I smiled at the idea of Chris cooking at my house. Moving around my house, like he belonged here. Because he does belong here.

He had started to leave things at my place, here and there. A shirt one time, left behind for me to sleep in. A toothbrush another time, after forgetting his own and needing to buy one. The next time he bought an entire set of toiletries to leave behind. I had surprised him by clearing out space in the master bathroom for his things to take up residence. Now, it seemed that each trip his luggage was getting smaller and smaller. He had a small selection of button down shirts hanging in my closet. A handful of t-shirts, some pants and workout clothes, were neatly folded in my dresser. One pair of flip flops, a pair of running shoes and a pair of casual shoes were lined up in the corner of the closet. A spare charger was permanently plugged in at the nightstand on “his�� side of my bed. His toiletries now co-mingled with my own in the bathroom. He even had a favorite coffee mug, which I secretly used nearly every morning that he wasn’t there.

“So what is on the baby check list while I’m home?” he interrupted my thoughts with a quiet question. I smiled at the mention of “home” and his face lit up as he registered my delight.

“Well…” I started, turning pages in my notebook again. “Besides picking a girl name? Finish painting. Assemble the crib. Decorate. Pick out some bedding to put on the baby registry.”

“Ooh, do we get to use one of those beepy things at Target?” He was nearly bouncing in excitement.

“If you want to,” I laughed. “But if we find something that we like online, then we’ll just add it to the Amazon registry.”

“I say we check Target first. I really want to use one of those things.” He shook his head as his own ridiculousness.

“We can check Target first,” I assured him.

“When is your shower, again?”

“The first weekend in March.”

“So loooooong. I want to buy stuff now,” he whined.

“I do too… but they’re really excited about this. We should let them have their fun.” I really was so glad that my family was being so supportive. Mom had a not-so-secret stash of baby things, “hidden” in the guest room closet. Dad gave me updates each time Mom or my sister added to the stash. So far it seems that it was mostly clothes, for both boys and girls. Dad said Mom was going to save the un-needed clothes for the next baby. When Dad confessed all of this to me I laughed so hard that I cried.

“I know, you’re right,” he conceded. “We’re still doing the nursery decorations ourselves, right?”

“Yes, we are. So get your butt back out here so we can work on it!” I was suddenly sad, missing him so much it was nearly painful.

“Hey,” he urged gently. “I will be there in a few days. We will decorate and paint and I will cook for you and rub your feet and…”

“And cuddle in bed?” I raised my eyebrows to him, simply missing his touch. Missing his presence in the house. Missing his laughter echoing off the walls.

“And cuddle in bed,” he agreed. “And do other things in bed.”

I snorted a laugh in response.

“Hey now, the doctor keeps saying that these hormones are supposed to make you crazy for me!” His eyes went wide in exaggeration.

“I’m already crazy for you,” I argued.

“You sure about that?”

“Of course I am!” I cried out. “Are you complaining about the frequency? Or is the quality not up to your expectations?” I squinted my eyes at him.

“Neither!” He surrendered his palms again, laughing. “Neither, I swear. I was just teasing! I promise!”

“I was just teasing, too.” A smile broke across my face and I burst into giggles.

“Oh man, you got me… I swear. I’m so scared to make you mad. Supposedly these hormones are supposed to make you like…”

“Crazy?” I interrupted, still laughing.

“I didn’t say crazy!” He held up a finger in protest.

“No, I did.” I took a deep breath and sighed, calming myself. “I’m not crazy though, right?”

“Not at all, honey. Not at all.”

… … …  … … …

A few long and tiring days later Chris arrived, letting himself into my home with the key I had forced into his hand the last time he left. The argument was laid moot at my insistence that if something were to happen, he needed a key.

Nothing bad had happened, but I was thankful that Chris had his key when he found me snoozing at my desk in the studio

“Good morning sunshine,” he crooned as I blinked my eyes open.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” I groaned, lifting my head from the desk surface, a paper sewing pattern coming with my cheek. Chris chuckled gently peeling the paper off.

“Is it time to take maternity leave?” He joked and looked around the room. The clutter made my exhaustion obvious. On the cutting table, a pair of dressmaking sheers lay open, topping a pile of cut fabric, with scraps littering the surrounding surface. A new pattern lay nearby, only half taped together. Both serger and sewing machine stood proudly lit, still switched on. Piles of old and new fabric, haphazardly hanging from their shelves, bolts threatening to fall over, near ones that already had.

My eyes followed his gaze around the room, landing on my laptop that I had pushed to the side, still brightly lit with my webhost back end on the screen. I shook my head and clicked ‘save’, hoping that my edits hadn’t timed out. With confirmation of my changes I checked my phone, noting five missed calls. Three from Chris and two from Kate.

“I need to call Kate,” I rasped, before clearing my throat.

“To talk to her about maternity leave?” Concern was etched across Chris’ face.

“No… not yet,” I scowled as I clicked through my phone. E-mails from a fabric designer filled my inbox. I winced. “Remember that conference I skipped to come to New Mexico?”

“I do,” he nodded slowly.

“I was supposed to meet with a fabric designer…”

“A big one, right? Your sister told me.”

“Yes,” I sighed out disappointment in myself. “Basically, I lied and told her I was sick and needed to reschedule. Then later told her that I’m pregnant.”

“Ok… and?” Chris didn’t hide the confusion.

“She assumed the illness was morning sickness and was actually really cool about it,” I felt my eyebrows raise and I filled him in.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“It is! Yes… but… it pushed back the design. It was working out to be an exclusive fabric design for me. For my clothing line.”

“That’s amazing, honey!” Chris beamed at me, then scowled. “Wait, so what it wrong?”

“We haven’t found time to get together, so everything has been through email, which pushes back the timeline. With the fabric design pushed back, the clothing design gets pushed back and I just really want this line to AT LEAST be in manufacturing before the baby is born.” I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes. Chris was right, I needed a break, but there was no way I would enjoy maternity leave, knowing my company was left hanging. And to be fair, it seemed way too early for maternity leave.

“Ok… alright… we’ve got this. It’s ok.” Chris turned my desk chair toward him and knelt in front of me. “So, what do we need to do to get to that point… or to get to a point that you can leave it to Kate?”

“I can’t leave it all to Kate. This is my company!” Tears welled in my eyes. “I can’t do that. This is my design. This is what I’ve been waiting for! An exclusive fabric for such a small company… it’s so hard! I can’t just walk away! I want to enjoy this. I’ve worked SO hard for it!” I could feel my emotions taking over. These damn hormones.

“Oh honey,” Chris pulled me into a hug. “You will! It’ll be ok!”

“No!” I wailed. “It won’t! I have to take maternity leave at some point… I have to take a break! I’m losing my mind, I swear! I’m exhausted all the time and then when I sleep, I dream of sewing!”

“Let’s take a little break, get out of this room, go put that crib together!” Chris looked at me expectantly.

“I was dreaming about sewing the baby’s bedding, when you woke me up,” I nearly whispered, shaking my head slowly.

“Oh honey,” Chris whispered, pulling me into another hug.

“I don’t know what to do right now. I’m so tired, I can’t think.” I sniffled, wiped my eyes and pulled my head up to look him in the face, for what seemed like the first time since he woke me. “And I need a shower, so bad.”

“Alright,” Chris stood abruptly. “I’ve got this.”

“You do?” My face twisted in amusement and confusion.

“Yep. You need a shower, a break and some help. I’ve got this.” He straightened up, putting his hands on his hips and surveyed the room again. “Go get in the shower. I’m going to get Kate in here to clean up… AH!” He held up a finger when I tried to protest. “I will pay her for her time today and then I think we should maybe talk to her about either changing her schedule, or taking on more hours.”

“And then what?” I sighed, knowing he was right.

“Then, when you get out of the shower, you’re going to answer those emails,” he motioned at my phone. “Then we can eat something or you can take a nap, but you’ll decide that AFTER you shower. Alright?”

“Alright.” I agreed, succumbing to his help. “Let me get you Kate’s number.”

“You’re silly if you think I don’t already have it,” he chuckled, retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “Get in the shower, now. You smell.”

“I do not!” I protested, standing with the assistance of his free hand.

“You don’t,” he smiled, kissing the top of my head. “But, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“I hear it’s worse once the baby comes,” I teased.

“I won’t like that either, but I’ll do whatever I can to help. I can promise you that.” With a gentle push I was out the door and walking across my back yard. Simply being outside in the fresh air was already a welcome change. I glanced around, imagining playing with our sweet little girl that was yet to come.

“We should get a swing set back here,” Chris called from the doorway of the pool house studio.

“I was just thinking that,” I called back.

“Shower first. I can smell you from here!” His chuckle almost choked off his words.

To say I took a long shower would be the understatement of history. I started with the shower, steaming hot, standing under the cascade with my eyes closed. When my legs tired I longed for a bath and switched to the tub faucet, plugging the drain as I sat down to enjoy the bath.

Chris knocked softly on the door as he opened it slightly.

“Did you fall asleep in there?” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want to interrupt me, had I actually been sleeping.

“No,” I giggled. “Just reveling at how my belly sort of floats in the tub.”

“Just your belly?” I heard his tone change.

“Well, no, but… my boobs always floated,” my giggle bubbling into a laugh.

“I’m sad I never noticed that.” I could hear the smile in his voice before he peeked around the curtain.

“Cool, huh?” I smiled up at him, my hands running down my stomach.

“Very,” his smile turned and he tipped his head to the side. “Is she moving?”

“She’s movin,” I stopped my hand, attempting to feel her kicks from the outside. “Wanna try to feel again?”

“Eh… I’m kinda worried I’ll just be disappointed again.” He shrugged his feelings away and sat on the edge of the tub.

“I have a good feeling this time,” I grinned as I felt a tapping from my belly, on my hand.

“Oh do you now?” He shifted his weight and moved his hand to hover over mine, in a silent request for permission to touch me.

I took Chris’ hand in my free hand, sliding it under my opposite palm. We waited, our eyes locked. I felt a small bubble of movement, deep in my belly and frowned.

“I don’t know…” his face fell completely, dejected and disappointed.

“Shh, give her a second,” I scowled back at him. As if on cue, the tiniest of kicks made my eyebrows shoot up. “Did you feel that!?”

“No.” Chris exhaled through his nose as tears welled in his eyes. “I swear I’m never gonna….”

He was interrupted by jab, straight to his hand, as if to say “DAD! Shut it! I’m here!”

“HA!” I yelped. “You felt THAT!” My face split into a grin and tears spilled over with no warning.

“I did… I… Wow… Oh my god!” Another kick stopped his speech. “I swear, everything she does… it all makes me cry!” Tears streamed down his face, dropping into the tub.

“Well, you’re a daddy,” I spoke softly, my voice cracking with my own emotion.

“I’m a daddy,” he whispered.

“Now you’re really never going to take your hand off my stomach,” I smiled away my happy tears.

“Nope, never!” He straightened up. “Have you even washed yourself or have you just been enjoying the water?”

“Just enjoying the water,” I sighed contentedly, taking his free hand to place next to the one already on me.

“You’ll need to do that. I don’t want to hear any whining about tangled hair or being itchy from the water.”

“I will. As soon as you’re out of here,” I looked up at him through my eyelashes.

“OH, I’m not leaving!” His eyebrows lifted in a i-dare-you-to-tell-me-to-leave look.

“What? Then how am I supposed to wash myself?”

“Oh, don’t let me bother you. I’ll stay out of your way as best as I can!” With that, he grinned and abruptly barrel rolled over me, into the tub, landing between me and wall. Water sloshed out over the edge in a tsunami, soaking the rugs and bath mat.

“Christopher!” I yelped, trying to sit up.

“What?” He feigned innocence, then winked. “Like I said, don’t let me bother you… but I’ll wash your belly for you if you’d like.”

“Your clothes are soaked!”

“Uh… everything is soaked,” he nearly cackled, his hands still firmly on my round stomach. “Lucky for me, I’ve brought extra clothes!”

So there he stayed, while I drained the tub, stood and restarted the shower. I washed my hair and face, all while his hands stayed put. I poured soap into my loofah and eyed him, holding out the sponge, only to be met with a shake of his head and a laugh.

Once my entire body, minus my stomach, was clean, Chris took the loofah from me and began to wash my belly slowly, gently, almost as if I were made of glass.

“Can you still feel her moving?” I nearly whispered.

“I can,” he grinned, washing with the loofah as his free hand trailed behind it, never missing a spot or an opportunity to feel his little girl move.

“This has been simultaneously one of the weirdest and best days.”

“It’s only weird because you fell asleep on your desk,” he teased.

“Uh… and my baby daddy jumped into the tub with me, fully clothed,” I reminded him.

“Baby daddy,” he repeated in a sarcastic chuckle, scowling.

“Hey,” I called to him gently, blatantly ignoring his attempt at letting the moment pass. I lifted his chin with my fingers and felt my face twist in worry. “Hey…” I nearly cooed.

“It’s fine.” He shook his head from my hand and went back to washing.

“Not, it’s not. You’re not fine.”

“No… I’m not.” He stood and rinsed the loofah in the running shower behind me, one hand still on my soapy belly.

“Talk to me?” I nearly begged, standing on tip toe in an attempt to get eye level with him.

“I don’t want to fight.” His voice was low, pain dripping from every word, as he set about hanging the loofah, closing and putting away soap bottles, all one handed.

“I don’t either,” I was taken aback. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He’s tired of the baby daddy joke. Shit.

“Then we won’t.” He forced a smile and turned me away from him, to rinse the soap from my body. His hands moved as slowly and gently as before, with no hint as to how he was feeling.

“Chris, don’t…” I could barely get the words out. Would this be our first fight? Shit! “Please talk to me.”

“No, not right now. Not while you’re naked and we’re in the shower.”

“And you’re fully clothed in the shower?” I wasn’t sure if I meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, or if I just didn’t know what to say. I knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, when he recoiled from me, both of his hands coming off of my stomach.

“I said I don’t want to fight… not that I want to joke about it.” His body went rigid.

I spun around in his arms that still formed a barrier around me and reached for his face. He recoiled, again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my hands falling to my sides. It didn’t seem appropriate to rest them on my stomach, no matter the fact that my stomach was still my body. It didn’t seem appropriate to put my hands where his had just been, in such joy.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was hollow, his eyes filling with angry tears, where there had just been happy tears. “I don’t want this conversation to go like this. Not now, not here, not because I got angry. Not like this.”

“What conversation!?” I was suddenly terrified that my worst fears were coming true. Shit.

“Let’s get out of the shower,” he proclaimed, pulling the curtain aside calmly and stepping out.

I exhaled sharply, my hands flying to cover my mouth. I tried to hide the sob, to hold it in, but it broke through. I surrendered to the desperate crying that took over and looked down, placing my hands on my belly. No, no no no no. Did I just screw things up THAT bad, THAT fast?

“Chris?” I choked through the tears, frozen in the shower.

“Out of the shower, please?” He reached in, twisting off the tap and held out a bath sheet.

That fucking towel. THAT towel? That huge towel you bought for me when I complained that my belly got so big that I could barely get my towel around me. That towel, that you surprised me with!? That’s the towel you’re going to hand to me right before you break up with me!?

I stood shaking, naked, wet and cold, staring into his eyes. I could read nothing. There was nothing.

“Y/N, please!” He thrust the towel towards me as a reminder of its presence. Yet, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take the towel. Not THAT towel. Not any towel, from him. So I stood. He sighed in frustration and began to dry me off. Squeezing out my hair, gently pressing the terry cloth to my face, my neck, my breasts.

“Stop,” I pleaded through a sob. He continued, gently drying my arms and legs. He turned me from my shoulders, to face away from him, and dried my back and butt. I felt my body heave with emotion as he turned me back to face him. “Stop, please.”

“No,” his eyes stuck on my stomach. “I told you, I can’t do this with you naked, not here, not like this.” He took the towel to my stomach and gently dried my skin of every last drop of water.

“Chris!” I struggled to regain composure.

“Do you need lotion?” A single eyebrow raised on his face and I came undone.

“No, I don’t need lotion! I can’t do this, Chris! Don’t do this to me!” I sobbed, covering my face.

“You can’t DO this?” He nearly yelled, standing up. “What does that mean!?”

“I don’t need lotion! I need YOU!” I wailed now, with no care in the world of the fact that I was naked, no care of who heard me. I couldn’t do this.

“You need ME?” He nearly bellowed the words. “You NEED me? Then why can’t you do this!?”

“What!?” I cried out, nearly in physical pain from the emotion. “Yes, I need you! I love you! You are the father of my child! I need you! Why are you leaving me!? Over a joke!?” I was angry now, ripping the towel from him and throwing it on the ground. I eyed the linen closet, intent on getting myself a different towel.

“It’s not a joke!” He shouted back. I flinched away from his anger, startled and covered my chest with my hands and arms. His face softened and bent to pick up the towel, whispering with a shake of his head “It’s not a joke. It hurts.”

“So why didn’t you tell me? Instead you’re just going to break up with me? You’re going to leave me… you’re going to leave her!?” My hand went protectively to my stomach, forgoing my modesty.

“I’m not breaking up with you!” His face broke into a million emotions. “Why would you think that!? I promised you I’m not going anywhere! WHY would you think I’m breaking up with you?”

“You’re not… you’re… not?” I gasped for air. “I… you’re NOT!?”

“I’m not…” he stepped towards me cautiously and when I didn’t move away, he wrapped the towel around my shoulders.

“You’re not,” I shivered into the towel, feeling my body ready to give way. “I don’t understand… you said this conversation… and… you… you went so cold!” My breath quickened again, my heart racing.

“I just meant about us… about where we are and where we’re going and… I didn’t want to pose it as I’m tired of being called the baby daddy, no matter how much that hurts… I wanted to just have a conversation about our relationship.”

“I didn’t know it was hurting you,” I nearly whispered, holding back tears. “I really didn’t know. I’m sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry.” I gave in as he pulled me to his chest, sobbing into his already soaked shirt. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. Please, don’t. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I should have said something sooner. I realized that after I talked to my mom about it and…”

“You talked to your MOM about it!?” I cut him off.

“I talk to my mom about everything, honey… I… ” he trailed off, realizing his mistake.

“So, something that I was doing was hurting you… and I had NO idea… and instead of telling me that I’m hurting you… you tell your MOM that I’m hurting you!?” I was officially hysterical. Hormones be damned, I was angry and sad, furious and broken. Have I really failed him that much as a… a what? A girlfriend? A lover? A… baby mama? Damnit, that word really does hurt!

“I realize now how stupid that was… and I’m sorry.” He pulled me out to arm’s length and crouched to see eye to eye. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this got so bad.”

“She must hate me now!” I whispered, leading into screeching “Oh my god, she must HATE me! Chris!!! I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again!” I threw my face into his chest again.

“She doesn’t hate you. I promise.” He rubbed circles on my back, shushing me. “She told me to talk to you about it, that I was making a bigger deal out of it that it really was.”

“Not if I was hurting you! I don’t ever want to hurt you!” I mumbled into his chest, then pushed off to stare him down. “Damnit Chris! Your FACE, when I said it in the shower! I thought that was it, that we were done!”

“We are not done,” he reassured me.

“But you can’t DO that! You can’t let things get that bad, without talking to me!”

“I won’t. Never again. I promise!” He cupped my face in his hands, caressing my cheek.

“This sucked,” I began to cry again. “Now we can’t ever talk about where we are, without it being tainted by this… this…” I motioned at the shower and let my hand fall back to my side, pressing my forehead to his chest.

“It really did suck,” he sighed the words out, cracking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” I couldn’t stop the tears.

“Can we try to talk though? Can you put some clothes on and stop distracting me with your naked body, so we can really talk about it?” I felt his impish smile against my head and couldn’t keep a straight face, even through the tears.

“You’re a brat!” I laughed, wiping my face.

“Your brat,” he grinned, drying his own eyes.

“Yes, my brat. Is that what you want me to call you?” I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile.

“Staaaaahp!” He threw his head back, his weight on his heels and came back with a true smile. “Come on, naked lady! I want clothes on you for this conversation.”

Chris led me by the hand, to my bedroom. There I found two loads of laundry washed, dried and folded neatly on the bed. The bed was made, with fresh tulips in a vase on the nightstand, coupled with a cup of tea.

“I assume that was still hot, before you jumped in the tub?” I teased, motioning towards the clearly room temperature mug.

“That is was,” he nodded and led me to the cushioned bench at the foot of my bed. With swift determination of someone that knew exactly where I kept everything, he set to bringing me clean panties, a bralette, tank top and leggings. “Socks too?”

“No, no socks. Thank you.” I smiled, unwrapped myself from the towel and waited, knowing he would not allow me to dress myself.

“No fight over who puts your clothes on?” He smiled down at me.

“No, no more fighting.” I lifted my arms and let him dress me. Each article of clothing was punctuated with a sad, slow, desperate for affection, please don’t ever leave me, deep kiss.

I smiled and fought back tears until I was clothed. When all was said and done, Chris asked if I wanted to lie down.

“No… I was told I have to attend to my emails before I took a nap,” I joked, poking him with an elbow.

“I’d like to talk first?” He smiled, his easy going nature back in full force. I nodded pointedly in agreement, blowing all of the air from my lungs to clear my head.

“You are everything to me and everything to this tiny girl,” I peeked down at his hand, already on my stomach. “I will call you… or not call you… anything you want. I don’t ever want to go through what just happened, ever again.”

“I think you took the words right out of my mouth,” he smiled. “But… before marriage and between dating… there is exclusivity, which usually means calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend…”

“Seriously? You think we’re not exclusive? I know I’m not seeing anyone else… and if you are, I swear to god, Chris…”

“I’m not!” He chuckled, moving his hand to gently cover my mouth. “I’d just like to call you my girlfriend and for you to call me your boyfriend, because I feel like that is the last step before being engaged.”

“I’m not ready to be engaged…” my eyes went wide at the thought and I grabbed at his hand.

“I know you’re not and that is fine. If you are not ready, then I am not ready.” He took my hands in his and squeezed. “I hope I know when you’re ready though… because I want to surprise you. I don’t want it to be a conversation that ends in a decision. Is that selfish?”

“Not at all,” my eyes squinted nearly shut with my smile. “I want to be surprised.”

“Ok… I think we are on the same page?” Those eyebrows, they danced with concern.

“So long as you don’t plan to ‘surprise’ me on Christmas or New Years,” I finger quoted the air and smiled.

“I do not. I promise. No major holiday proposals.” He kissed my knuckles and laid our hands together on my stomach. “And I promise that if something is hurting me or bothering me, I will talk to you about it first.”

“Unless it’s someone else bothering you,” I joked.

“Even if it’s someone else,” Chris smiled and shook his head. “It’s you that I should be going to for help. You are the number one woman in my life. My mom is my mom and I love that woman to death, but this… this is my forever and I need to treat it as such.”

“Don’t tell your mom that!” I giggled at my own joke.

“Ha… well… she knows. We’ve been betrothed since I was six, if you remember,” his smile went crooked as he cocked an eye at me.

“I love you,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to my hands.

“I love you,” he tipped my head up with his finger tips to kiss me gently. I smiled into his kiss at the groan of relief he emitted.

“No moaning!”

“That was a groan,” he insisted quickly, then slid his hand behind my neck to pull me in for a deeper kiss. My voice betrayed me and Chris chuckled. “That was a moan!”

“Do it again,” I quietly begged. And he did. Again and again, each kiss more feverish than the other.

“Why did I even get you dressed!?” he mumbled against my mouth, fumbling with my tank top in an effort to pull it over my head.

“Because I was distracting you with my naked body!” I slid my hands under his shirt, eliciting a true moan from the man before me.

“Distract me again,” he begged. So I did, first removing his grey thermal shirt, then assisting with my own shirt. His eyes went wide at the sight of my chest, nearly bare to him in the lace bralette. “I swear they grow by the second.”

“And get more sensitive,” I pouted.

Chris’ face feigned surprised innocence as he sat back on his heels, drawing a hand to trace the edge of my bra. His eyes met mine in question and I whimpered in response. I knew what he wanted to do. I wanted it too, more than I could describe, but feared for the possible pain.

I was not prepared for the searing pleasure as Chris pulled the fabric aside and took my breast into his mouth. With my gasp as an answer to his unasked question, he continued with fervor. As his right hand cupped my breast, his free hand was left to explore and explore he did, until neither of us could take the wait any longer. Our clothes were nearly ripped apart in the sudden fever of desire. We tangled to the floor, our bodies a writhing heap of passion. I cried out with each climax of pleasure rolling into the next, lost in a daze of lust until Chris met his end, roaring out his euphoria like I had never heard him before.

There we laid, panting and gasping for air, on the floor beside my bed. “Was that make up sex?” Chris mumbled, tucking a tendril of hair behind my hear.

“I think so,” I huffed, still regaining my breath.

“You ok?”

“Yep, just… I had no idea an orgasm included uterine cramps until my uterus got so dang big!” I shifted my weight, away from Chris, turning to my back.

“Cramps? Not like, contractions, right?” He was up on his elbow, peering down in concern.

“No… not real ones I don’t think. They’re just… tight. Really tight.”

“But no pain…” his hand went to my belly, sending those eyebrows up in Surprise. “Wow, that’s… that’s firm.”

“Right?” I laughed away the discomfort. “But no, no pain.”

“Good.” He pecked a kiss to my forehead. “We don’t have time for a hospital visit today.”

“Uh… ok. I didn’t really want to go anyway?”

“Liz should be here any minute… unless she’s already here…” He trailed off, sneaking a look over the bed, out the window, to the back yard.

“What!?” I yelped, struggling with my attempt to leap up into action.

“Slow down lady, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grunted as he got himself upright. “C’mon,” he rolled his extended hand towards me. “I doubt she heard us anyway.”

Our clothes were collected, mine being put back on after a trip to the toilet, and Chris’ hung over the shower curtain rod to dry. All the while, my eyes were leveled at him in judgement.

“What?” He chuckled, avoid my glare by carefully selecting a clean shirt from the dresser.

“You knew. You brat.”

“Maybe I did,” he pulled a black t-shirt over his head and grinned when his face reappeared.

“You DID!”

“I did,” he giggled to himself, slipping on a pair of khaki colored jeans. With his zipper and button in place, he strode over and held my face in his hands. “Are you mad?”

“No…” I smirked. “It’s fine, it wouldn’t be the first time she heard me with someone.”

“What!?” Shock streaked across his face. “Are you serious?”

“No, you crazy man! I just had to get you back!”

“Oh thank god,” he pulled me in for a hug. “Because you know there were NO men before me.”

“Of course not,” I giggled.

“Promise you’re not mad?”

“About Liz hearing us? No. But, let’s try to not ever do that again. Ok?” I spied Liz emerging from the studio, through the window.

“Ok,” he smiled with his cheek against my head before noticing Liz and promptly erupted into a fit of giggles.

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 620

Warnings: none

A/N: This is it y’all. This is the end. Skip reading this if you want to miss all the sappy stuff. Writing this series has been nothing like I thought it would be. It’s made me cry and it’s made me smile like a maniac. It’s calmed me down and stressed me out. This all started with the smallest idea and through your encouragement, it became all it currently is. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for every comment and like and reblog. You’ll never know how much it all means to me. As always you can send it requests for writing or tags here. (PS let me know if you want to be moved from this tag list to another) My main masterlist is here and the series masterlist is here. So for the last time (for this series), let’s jump into it. 

Previous Chapter

-five years later-

You woke up slowly after reaching out and finding the bed cold. Sitting up and stretching, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You swung your legs out of the bed and walked down the stairs and towards the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon greeted you, as well as the sight of a man, facing away from you, bare-backed and green plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips. Careful not to alert him to your presence just yet, you quietly walked into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. “Mornin’ handsome,” you mumbled as you kissed the spot between his shoulder blades. 

“Good morning Mrs. Barnes,” he said with a chuckle before turning around to face you. After placing a gentle kiss to your lips, he gestured to the coffee pot, a mug already sitting out in front of it. “Coffee’s ready, breakfast isn't far behind.” You hummed in contentment kissing Bucky’s shoulder one last time before moving away to fix your coffee. “I’m gonna go sit on the porch for a bit, call me when breakfast is ready?” You requested. “Yes, ma'am.” You smiled and walked out of the kitchen towards the sliding glass door that led out to a porch, overlooking the lake.  Grabbing a blanket to combat the morning chill, you settled into the cushioned white wicker love seat and watched the water. The sun hit the ring on your left finger, drawing your attention to it. You smiled at it fondly. Bucky had made good on all the promises he had started making when the two of you were just kids. Nearly five years ago, you left New York and moved back to the town you grew up in. You and Bucky jumped right into living together, despite people telling you it was a mistake. Bucky, true to his word, supported you in every way possible while you figured out your next move. Eventually, you started a blog, posting short stories and other projects you worked on. One of those short stories made its way into a prominent magazine and you were now on your way to having a book published. The same day you found out you were officially published, Bucky drove you out to the lake that held so many firsts for the two of you and asked you to marry him. The ceremony took place there as well, small but filled with love and your best friends. Not long after that, the two of you started building your dream house, the house you were currently sitting in. It was a long process, stressful at times, but it all became worth it the first morning you woke up to the view of the spot where you fell in love with your husband. Your mind briefly moved to Josh. Last you had heard, the company he worked for had gone under and he was unemployed. And from the drunken voicemail you had gotten a few months ago, he was single as well. You were pulled from your thoughts by Bucky setting plates of food down on the glass table in front of you. He sat down next to you, placing his arm around the back of the loveseat and snagging some of your blanket from you to cover his legs. You took the opportunity to scoot closer to him, laying your head on his chest. “James?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment and you looked up at him. “Thank you.” “For what?” he questioned. “For believing in me. For giving me a life I could have only dreamed of.” Bucky smiled and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head in the process. “Thank you for coming back to me.” 

fin

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EVERYTHING TAGS: @sea040561@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety@quotemeow@janeyboo@randomparanoid   @hauanjsdbkss @titty-teetee

[punkpeqqy]

Aqua... Amber... Cream... oh wait, was I supposed to pick just one?! ;)

you are too kind. i’m sobbing. ilysm.

Aqua - I could stay on your blog for hours.Amber - I wish you would notice me.Cream - I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog

send me colours

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Chapter Ten

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 1,700

Warnings: none

A/N: This is it y’all. The last full chapter of Come Back… Thank you guys SO much for all the support on this one. The next thing on my to write list is a Steve Rogers series. If you want a tag for that let me know! Also, let me know if you want to be moved from the Come Back list to a different tag list. All tag and writing requests can be sent in here. You can find the series masterlist here and my main masterlist here.

Previous Chapter

After you made it back to the inn, you flung yourself on the bed and let the tears fall. You knew you had messed up. You knew it moments after walking away from Bucky but it didn't change anything. He might not have ruined your life then or now but you weren't wrong when you said it had all been a mistake. Being 16 and in love didn't mean the two of you could just pick up where you left off. You had gotten over him once, you could do it again, right? You got out of bed and took what was left of your makeup off before taking off your dress and getting back into bed. It was too late now anyway. Bucky probably went back into the reception and continued on with his night like nothing happened.

Bucky left the reception shortly after you did, he couldn't find it in himself to be in a party mood. He thought back to what you had said. He never thought you took the breakup that hard. He always assumed you went the romcom route, having a good cry and then moving on with your life immediately after. It killed him that he was the reason for any pain in your life. And here he was doing it again. He loved you. He loved you more than he ever thought possible. But more than that, he knew you. He knew you weren’t happy. He could see it in the way your smile faded just a little when someone asked you about New York or your job. But he also knew that after the countless arguments with your parents, you weren't about to just give up. Bucky got himself ready for bed and tossed and turned until his phone lit up with a text from Steve.

I’m taking her to the airport tomorrow. 10 am. Don't be late.

Bucky smiled to himself. He wouldn’t ask you to stay again. It wasn’t fair to keep pressuring you. But at least he could say goodbye, even if it killed him inside.

You sat in Steve’s car, both of you silent as he drove you to the airport. You had told him you could find another ride but he insisted on it until you finally caved. So far, neither one of you had brought up the night before. Steve pulled up to the airport and walked you in. You knew you at least needed to apologize about last night.

“Steve, I am so sorry about last night. I cause a scene and then I bailed and-”

Steve stopped you before you could continue.

“It’s okay Y/N. There wasn't a scene that anyone noticed and I understood why you left. But I do need you to know that Bucky wasn’t trying to mess anything up for you.”

“I know. And he didn't actually. I was just upset and overreacting,” you said.

“I am so glad to hear you say that because…” he trailed off, pointing behind you.

You turned and saw Bucky standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets.

You turned back to Steve and rolled your eyes.

“You just can’t help but meddle huh?” you said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, pulling you in for a hug.

You knew you were gonna miss Steve. You had missed him before and this trip just made it worse. Besides Bucky, Steve had been your best friend for years. Even when he was the smallest guy in your class, he was always looking out for you and doing his best to protect you. You helped each other through everything big or small. He helped you fill out the application for NYU and you held his hand when he had to bury his mother. Steve was there when your parents would fight and you were there when his house was too quiet.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

“I’m gonna miss you too buddy. But you know I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

Steve kissed the top of your head as he released you, wishing you a safe flight and heading back out the door.

You turned back to Bucky and started talking before he could.

“I’m sorry Bucky. I was a bitch last night and I didn’t mean the things I said. I was upset at the situation and I just started yelling at whoever was closest and that was you.”

Bucky gave you a small smile, forgiving you instantly.

“It’s okay Y/N. I just wanted to see you off. I didn’t want to leave things like that.”

“Me either,” you replied.

Bucky took a deep breath, preparing to let you go. Instead, when he opened his mouth, something else entirely came out.

“Stay. Stay here with me, please. We can make this work Y/N. We aren't kids anymore, I love you so much. When I picture my future, I picture you. We can figure this all out together. Come back, stay with me. Move in with me and write what you love again.”

You attempted to speak but Bucky stopped you.

“I know you’re gonna say something about money but don’t. I can help you.”

You tried again to object but Bucky wasn't having it.

“I have money now, you'll have money later. Even if you don’t, it doesn't matter Y/N. You’re dreams and your happiness are so much more important. I really think I can make you happy Y/N. I love you, please just give us a chance.”

“I can’t Bucky! I can’t come back here. I can’t fail again. I need to do this. I need to prove to myself and my parents and everyone else who called me crazy for going to New York that I’m not a failure. I’m sorry Bucky.”

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and walked away from him once again, tears filling your eyes.

-one month later-

True to his word, Josh kicked you out almost immediately when you arrived back in the city. On such short notice, the only place you could find was over budget and the size of a shoebox. You were determined to make it work though. Until you walked into your office building a week later and found out you had been fired. Your articles weren’t doing well enough anymore and they no longer had room for you on staff. Leaving you with the smallest of severance pay and a bruised ego, you set out to find another job. Finding a writing job had proved nearly impossible so instead, you found yourself here, at a shitty hole in the wall diner, waiting tables.

It seemed that today the universe had it out for you. Twenty minutes into your double shift, a kid spilled a soda on you, leaving you sticky for the rest of the day. Not long after that, a customer ‘accidentally’ grabbed your ass and somehow your boss got mad at you for ‘inappropriate behavior’. The rest of your shift dragged on, getting stiffed on tips and tables, leaving you worried about making your rent on time this month. And to top off your horrendous day, halfway through your walk home, the skies opened up and left you drenched.

You walked into your building and saw the elevator was down for maintenance. Throwing your head back and groaning, you started up the stairs to your apartment. When you finally got to your door, you were shocked to see Bucky sat in front of it. When he looked up and saw you staring at him, he pushed up off the floor and moved out of your way so you could unlock the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you. Please, can I come in?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You unlocked the door to the cramped studio apartments and immediately felt embarrassed for Bucky to see it. Money was tight so decorating or repainting wasn't an option, leaving you with grungy looking walls and tattered second-hand furniture. Books were piled everywhere, along with boxes of clothes you hadn’t been able to find space for. Suffice to say, you didn’t exactly look like you were killing it. You were about to tell Bucky you needed to change out of your wet clothes when he started talking.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you this past month. God, Y/N, please come back home with me,” Bucky blurted out.

“Bucky! We’ve had this conversation a million times. I can’t!”

“You can!”

“Are you crazy?” you asked.

“Probably,” he conceded. “But do it, come with me.”

“I can’t do that,” you said dismissively.

“You don’t think you can do it but you can! You can do whatever you want!”

“It’s not what I want!”

“It is what you want! I know you.”

“You don’t know me. Not anymore Bucky.”

“Come back with me. We can work, we’ll live together, we’ll be together. It’s what we both want.”

“No!” you yelled, losing your patience with this conversation.

“I want to be with you. Here or back home. Where ever you want, name the place and I’m there. I just want to be with you. We can start over!”

“There’s nothing to start.”

“You can count on me now! I know you couldn't before and I know you're probably scared and to be honest I am too. But I am ready to be that guy now. The responsible guy that you can count on.”

“No!”

“I love you. We’re supposed to be together. I knew it when I met you when we were eight years old. I know it and you know it.”

“No, no, no, no,” you repeated it like a mantra, trying to block out Bucky’s words.

“Don’t say no just to make me shut up or to make me go away. Only say no if you really don’t want to be with me.”

You looked into Bucky’s eyes and saw the desperation and slight hope there. You thought about the past month and the few days you were back in your hometown. You need to make a choice, once and for all.

Next Chapter

SERIES TAGS: @slender–spirit @lovely-geek@amandamartinez3568@justreadingfics@midnightdream83 @that-bearshark@nutellaninja210@antivancharmer@rosiethebaker@kimskew@oliviaadamswrites @alisonhepps  @maddie-laufeyson @part-time-patronus@violetrose90201 @steebrogurz @merlinlover@optimistic-babes @eternity-in-my-pocket@madebyleftoversouls@stupendoussciencenaturepanda@cantwaitforinfinitywar2 @queenophelia

EVERYTHING TAGS: @sea040561@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety@quotemeow @janeyboo@randomparanoid   @hauanjsdbkss

[littlemarvelfics]

Come Back... Chapter Four

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: about 1,600

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello hello! My classes have switched over to a lighter load until the end of the year so maybe I’ll be able to post more soon! For those of you that aren’t into this story- fear not! I’m gonna get working on some oneshots for Steve or maybe Chris Evans. In the meantime, you can check out my masterlist here or this series masterlist here. Please feel free to ask for a tag here.

Previous Chapter

The next morning, you woke up before Josh so you quickly got into the shower. Peggy had texted you the night before with the details of your outing so you knew you had some time to get ready. You slipped into your chosen casual outfit for the day and you ventured out of the bathroom.

Josh was sitting on the bed, back propped against the headboard, smiling down at his phone.

“Hey, I’m going out with the girls for a bit and we’re probably gonna eat lunch while we’re out. And then we’re going to all go to that bonfire so I’ll text you when I’m on my way to get you?” you asked him gently.

“Oh right,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “I was thinking I’d stay here tonight and skip the bonfire. I’ve got some work to finish up.”

You sighed knowing this was going to be a fight.

“Can’t you do your work while I’m gone and then come with me tonight? I’d really like you to be there.”

“Why? I met them yesterday. Do I really need to spend another night with them as well?” he asked, clearly agitated.

“You don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice.”

“Is Borky gonna be there?” he asked, condescendingly.

“Bucky? I don’t know. Probably?” you responded, confused.

“Fine, I’ll go. Just let me know when you’re on your way back here.”

“Okay sounds good,” you said, crossing the room to give him a peck on the cheek.

He didn’t say anything else so you went about your routine, getting ready to leave. About 20 minutes before your scheduled appointment time, you kissed Josh goodbye and headed out to the parking lot.

You headed to the spot where Bucky’s Jeep was parked and slid into the driver’s seat. You turned the key and then started looking around the car. It was neat which wasn’t surprising considering how Bucky took care of cars but there seemed to be missing something. You poked around until you found the familiar worn leather booklet that was shoved under the passenger’s seat. In it, you found seemingly endless pages of CDs. You flipped through hoping to find what you were looking for. All you saw now were real CDs bought in stores and that wouldn’t cut it.  A few more page flips and they appeared. The plain silver discs with Bucky’s messy scrawl titling the CD’s and listing the tracks. You went on instinct and picked one labeled “Ride or Die Tunes”. You slipped it out of the holder and into the CD player. As the first song began, you knew you had made a great choice. The sound filled the car as you turned the volume up and you were off.

Fifteen minutes and a few great songs later, you were pulling up to the nail salon.

Walking in, you immediately spotted Natasha, Wanda, and Peggy. You all greeted each other and settled in for the technicians to do their work while the girls started to catch you up on their lives.

Natasha worked at a gym a few towns over and she taught self-defense classes for women. You smiled knowing she had found her calling. Natasha was always trying to empower her female friends to be better versions of themselves.

Wanda told you about the coffee shop/bookstore that she and her twin brother Pietro had opened. Wanda had always believed in books as a means of healing and seemed to be able to tell when a person was in need of such a thing. Pietro was a guy that always seemed to be on the run and the coffee helped him do it. Opening The Tesseract had been the obvious choice.

Peggy shared stories of being a high school principal, which was how she and Steve met. You didn’t know much about her but you could tell she was made for the job. She had a no-nonsense attitude but she clearly had a caring side as well making her a perfect fit for the job.

As you listened to your friends share stories of their jobs and home lives, you couldn’t help but envy them. When you left this town all those years ago, you had more determination than you knew what to do with. All it took was a few months in the real world before you put your dreams on the backburner. Meanwhile, all your friends had found careers they were perfect for and it seemed that everyone had fallen in love as well. Natasha and Clint had ended up together to no one’s surprise, Peggy had Steve and Wanda had met someone she had called ‘Vision’. You just seemed to be passing time until you magically got where you wanted to be.

“Earth to Y/N.” Natasha’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Sorry, sorry. What were you saying?”

“I said: What about you? What are you doing these days?” she said with a laugh.

“Oh. Um. I work for a website writing. Nothing exciting, mostly fluff pieces.”

“I thought you wanted to write novels?” Wanda asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, I still do. It just doesn’t exactly pay the bills so Josh suggested I get a job to support myself while I figured out some next steps.”

“Oh yeah, Josh! Tell us about him? How did you guys meet?” Peggy asked.

“We met through some mutual friends. He had graduated from another school in the city a year earlier than me. We starting dating like a year and a half ago and we moved in together about four months ago.”

“That’s nice, he seems like a nice guy,” Peggy replied.

“Yeah, he’s nice. We fight sometimes but that’s just how it goes I guess.”

You all fell into an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. It was Natasha who broke the silence as she usually did.

“I have to ask about Bucky.”

“What about him?” you asked coolly.

“You just disappeared and dropped off the face of the earth Y/N! We barely knew about it. Bucky wasn’t exactly chatty.”

“He bailed Nat!” you exclaimed getting frustrated. “He bailed. He promised we were gonna be together. He was gonna come with me to the city and then I go to his parent’s house a day before we were meant to leave and he was just gone! His mom handed me a two-line letter and that was it! He didn’t even tell me he was considering enlisting. And then he was just gone. How could I trust him after that?”

“He was just doing what he thought was right,” Wanda mumbled.

“What the hell does that even mean?!”

“I think that’s a question for Bucky,” Peggy interjected quietly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you replied with a sigh.

Peggy seemed to sense that you were done with the conversation as she quickly moved on to lighter subject matters such as the wedding.

Once you were all finished with your nails, Wanda suggested you all walk down the main stretch of town and pick up some coffee and snacks at her coffee shop. You had wanted to see what it was all about so you happily agreed. You all ambled down the street for a few blocks until Wanda took a turn inside an archway.

You entered the shop and the soft music playing from the speakers seemed to surround you as you took everything in. Your eyes traveled across long wooden tables with mismatched chairs surrounding them and floor to ceiling bookshelves that produced makeshift aisles with some new, some used books. As you looked over the menu, you couldn’t help but take in a deep inhale of the scent of strong coffee and the distinct smell of books.

Wanda led you all to the counter where a jumpy teen named Peter took your orders and started to prepare them. You tried pulling your card out to pay but Wanda swatted your hand away. She insisted it was on the house and told you to look around and she would come to get you when the order was ready.

You wandered around the aisles, running your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. People had often asked you which novel or writer had inspired you to become a writer yourself. The truth was, every book you had ever read had inspired you. The bad ones made you want to be better than them; the good ones inspired you to be like them.

Lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized you had made it back to the front of the shop where the tables were all scattered about. You looked around the fairly empty shop when your eyes landed on Bucky. Looking handsome as always in simple jeans, boots and white tee with his hair pulled back into a low messy bun. You smiled to yourself and walked in his direction to thank him for the car and to compliment his music taste.

You stopped short when a girl you had never seen before sat down across from him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and held onto Bucky’s hand that had been lying on the table. She giggled at something he said with a laugh you found annoying but Bucky probably found endearing.

Why did you want to punch this girl in the face? You didn’t even know her. You had no claim to Bucky, he wasn’t your anything. You were in town with your own boyfriend, you shouldn’t be upset that he had a girlfriend.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

At the sound of your name, Bucky whipped his head around and met your eyes, dropping the girl’s hand in the process. You gave him a tight smile and then turned to follow Wanda to the table she and the girls had set up at. You sank down into your seat with a deep sigh. You couldn’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know what to call the feeling until you heard her laugh again. You were jealous.

Next Chapter

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[oliviaadamswrites]

Red Carpet - Chapter Seven

[Read via AO3] Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Prompt: She met Sebastian Stan 3 weeks ago and now it’s time for their official first date. Warnings: Fluff. So much fluff. ALL THE FLUFF. Mentions of brief leading up to smut type scenarios.  Word Count: 3,274 [Full Work Word Count: 14,075]

The kids were bouncing off the walls at my parents and I was at home, pacing my living room. I paused at the large mirror hanging in my entryway, to asses my appearance. My hair fell in long waves and my makeup was lightly applied, so as to not look like too much. I suddenly second guessed my outfit. Medium wash skinny jeans, cuffed at the ankle, paired with nude flats. My loose taupe blouse peeked out of my cream cardigan, with tangled loops of long delicate necklaces swaying as I walked.

“Ugh!” I threw my hands in the air and began a frustrated walk up the stairs to my bedroom. “I need some color in this outfit!”

My irritated march was halted by a knock at the door. I looked down at my watch, noting that it was fifteen minutes before Sebastian said he would be picking me up. Must be my Amazon package.

I threw the front door open, without even looking through the peephole, and startled at the sight of Sebastian Stan on my step.

“Oh my…” I clapped my hand over my mouth, taking in Sebastian in all of his glory. This tall man before me, so confident in himself. One hand in his pocket and the other behind him, his hair had already started to fall into his eyes.

“Hey pretty girl,” he smiled at me and pulled me by my hip to him, kissing me quickly on the cheek. His eyes traveled up and down my body, settling finally back on my face. “I officially like your casual date night look too.”

“You do?” I smiled, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.

“Absolutely!” He pulled me to him fully now, rubbing his nose on mine. “I told you, I like any look on you.” I melted at his words, as he pressed his lips to mine, still smiling. “You ready to go?”

“I just… need… to grab… my purse,” I stuttered the words out, between Sebastian kissing me repeatedly.

“… And put these in water,” he crooned mischievously, presenting a bouquet of pink daisies.

“For me!?” I squealed.

“Of course for you, goofball!” His face scrunched into a laugh as I took the flowers from him, smelling the sweet perfume.

He followed me into the house with a swat to my butt, kick starting a fit of giggles that wouldn’t cease until I spied Sebastian in the same mirror that I had just recently checked my look in. The giggles only worsened.

“Oh my god, Sebastian!” Giggles turned into un-lady-like cackles. “Sebastian… we match!”

He spun around to face me, looking down at his get up. A taupe blazer, over his untucked cream button down, paired with jeans and dark brown casual dress shoes.

“We do!” He laughed.

“I’ll change real quick!” I laid the flowers on the kitchen counter and started the trek back to the stairs again. Sebastian caught my wrist in his hand, stopping me.

“You look amazing.” He leaned his head to the side as if to emphasize his statement. “Let’s go.”

“The paparazzi would have a field day with our matching clothes if we were in LA.” I snorted.

“Good thing we’re not in LA.” His voice was low and gravely, causing goosebumps to flair through my body.

…

Sebastian had rented a car for the weekend, instead of his normal studio arranged driver or Uber. Apparently when he asked for something “inconspicuous”, the young woman at the counter fell into a case of the giggles that required her manager to finish the transaction. He ended up in a dark grey cross over, the perfect vehicle to blend in with my suburban town.

The car was already making things smoother than having a driver would have. There was no one to wait for and no timing to coordinate. With the extra few minutes, we even had the opportunity to take the back roads, allowing me to show Sebastian the town I grew up in.

After parking, Sebastian silently palmed a bill from his wallet. When I eyed him questioningly, he exhaled through his nose and set his jaw.

“I just want a nice dinner with you. A perfect first date.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “If that means bribing the hostess to not text her friends about me, then so be it.”

���I think we’ll be ok,” I squinted at him, patting his leg. The tiny Italian restaurant was owned by an older couple, who manned the bar and hostess stand themselves. The entire staff was made up of their close friends and family members, from the chef to the busboys. I knew we would be in good hands here when Sebastian and I had discussed where we would go for dinner.

Ever the gentleman, Sebastian rushed to my side of the car, to open my door. He offered his elbow to escort me across the parking lot. At the restaurant he held the door, gesturing me in with a dramatic bow and great sweep of his free arm.

“Ok, Hatter.” I giggled.

“Oh, he was fun to play! So dramatic!” He bit his lip smiling, with eyebrows raised, dancing his head, reminiscent of a wild eyed Jefferson.

As predicted, the lady of the restaurant double checked our reservation and took us to our table, without a hiccup.

“I told you we would be fine.” I played in a sing song voice, after the waitress had taken our drink orders.

“You were right. I think I under estimated this little town. It’s pretty deceiving, being right up against bigger cities.”

“Well, I wouldn’t suggest walking through the mall with a shiny metal arm, but yes. It’s quiet here. I love it.” I smiled to him over the glowing tea lights. He reached across the table, taking my hand in his and rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

“Tell me about it. Tell me everything you love about your hometown.” His gentle smile took hold of my heart and I fought back tears. I would tell him everything I loved, every reason I had for never wanting to leave… and then he would go back to New York, knowing that I would never move there with him. It didn’t matter that moving was not on the table this soon, it was the fact that it never could be. Effectively, this conversation alone could end our short lived relationship.

“If I do, will you tell me about Romania?” I was looking down at our intertwined hands, slowly twisting our fingers around each other’s, prepared to change the topic of conversation before it had even begun.

“Of course.” He laughed the words out, shaking his head.

And so, I did. I told Sebastian about holidays in my hometown. I told stories from high school. I recounted my college days and how I visited home nearly every weekend. The conversation naturally flowed to when I had met my late husband and I stopped abruptly.

“That’s maybe enough about me for now?”

“No, baby, it’s fine. I know you had a life before you met me. Clearly, your children have a father, that’s biology.” He rubbed my hand reassuringly. “You’ve never mention him, though. Is he involved? With the kids I mean?”

“No.” I shook my head slowly. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this conversation, but after three weeks it seemed like it was now or never. “No, he passed away three years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed the words out quietly, unable to conceal the shock that took over his face.

“Me too,” I swallowed, trying to clear my suddenly dry throat. “I should have brought it up sooner.”

“Nooooo, no no no.” He took both of my hands into his. “We don’t even have to talk about it right now. Whenever you’re ready. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not prying,” I smiled at him, fighting the tears that were stinging my eyes. “I come with some baggage, you should probably know about it all before you decide to fly out here again.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. Everyone has baggage.”

“I have two kids and a dead husband,” I raised my eyebrows at him and sat back in my chair.

“Some of us pack a little heavier than others?” He cocked an eyebrow at me and a smile cracked across his face. I couldn’t help but smile back him. “I’m not going to run away. In fact, I’ll help you carry all those heavy suitcases.”

“It’s baggage, Sebastian, not suitcases.” I smiled back, laughing.

“Hey, I don’t know! I’m Romanian, gimme a break.” He winked at me.

“You’ve lived here most of your life,” I scowled back at him.

“I will use that excuse any time I damn well please, lady.” He pointed a finger at me, laughter bubbling between his words.

“Tell me about Romania?”

“Tell you about Romania…” his voice trailed off as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything. All of it. Start with where you were born?” I rested my chin onto my hand, sighing out the rest of my nerves.

Calm settled back over the table as Sebastian reminisced about living in Europe and then moving to the States. Laughter came back easily and our conversational stumble was nothing but a memory. The salads were cleared and our soup arrived, the family style bowl steaming between us. Sebastian ladled soup out for the both of us, lost in a story about being a teenager in New York City, smiling with nostalgia in his eyes.

“You really love New York,” I stated simply.

“I do. I really do. You should come visit sometime.” He was stirring his soup, blowing the heat off. “I could book you a room at The Plaza…” his voice lowered and he continued, tipping an eyebrow to me “… or you could stay with me.”

“Oh, I could I?” I teased.

“Yes. You could.” He pursed his lips, scowling at me. “We could see the sites, I could take you to a show. Then show you my favorite parts of the city. Have you ever been to New York? Can I take you to your first Broadway show?” His face perked up in excitement.

“I have…” I frowned. “We went for… his birthday. We saw Phantom.”

“Did you like it?” He smiled, not allowing disappointment to show on his face.

“Absolutely, I loved it!” I smiled at the memory. But, there it was again. There he was again, in the middle of date night conversation.

“Would you rather see a play or a musical?”

“Both? Can I be greedy?”

“Absolutely!” Sebastian’s face lit up. “Imma spoil my girl!”

“I like the way that sounds,” I sat back and swirled the tip of my spoon in my now nearly empty soup bowl.

“You like to be spoiled?” he chuckled.

“No… that I’m your girl.” I posed it as a question, feeling the blush warm my face.

“Well, you are.” He stood up and leaned over the table to kiss me quickly.

“You’re a goober,” I laughed.

“Yeah, well… I’m your goober.” He grinned at me, still leaning over the table, mere inches from my face. I straightened my back and leaned forward, kissing him a little longer than was probably appropriate in public.

“Ahem,” the waitress was beside the table, our entrees balanced on a tray in her hand. We both giggled, settling back into our seats.

We dug into our plates, eyeing each other between bites, prompting laughter with mouths full of food. Sebastian covered his mouth with his hand, fork dangling, his eyes crinkled in amusement. I snorted, causing my body to convulse with laughter. I dropped my fork with a clatter and covered my face with the cloth napkin from my lap.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he mumbled behind his hand, still chewing.

“But I’ll follow you anyway!” My eyebrows shot up at my own statement and I stifled a laughing squeal into my napkin.

Sebastian swallowed his bite finally, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with his own napkin. He cleared his throat and set his elbows on the table, cradling his chin on his interlaced fingers.

“Would you follow me to New York?” His head tipped to one side as he asked, a smile playing at one corner of his mouth.

“You can’t ask me that yet!” I pointed at him with my fork and shook my head.

“Ok,” he picked his own fork back up and twirled pasta around it endlessly. “I can’t ask you that yet. You’re right.”

I poked him with the toe of my shoe under the table, smiling.

“You’re cute when you’re needy.” I teased.

“I am not needy.” He flexed his jaw and pulled his lips into a thin line. “I just miss you when I’m not around you.”

“I miss you too,” I reassured him. His eyes were smiling, but his mouth held the same thin line. I poked him again with my toe, making him jump. He worked his jaw and shook his head at me, before breaking into a smile.

“What do you want to do after dinner?” He set back to eating his food, still smiling.

“I was thinking another couch date.” I smiled at my plate, remembering the night he surprised me.

“I think that is a fantastic idea.” He stuffed a forkful of pasta into his mouth and smiled.

“Good. I even saved a few cookies for us.”

His eyes flicked to the side, remembering something. “How long are the kids staying at your parents?”

I leaned forward, layering my arms on the edge of the table.

“Gams and Papa are keeping them over night.”

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, matching my suggestive tone, “More cookies for me then.”

…

With plates cleared and the check paid, Sebastian and I sat leaned back in our chairs. I spun my wine glass around and around, twisting the stem between my fingers. Sebastian swirled the ice in his tumbler before tipping a few cubes into his mouth and crunching them slowly.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” He was looking at his glass still.

“Tomorrow?” My eyes went to his, seeing a smile playing at the corners. “How long are you here?”

“A few days. Enough to see you again if you can sneak away.”

“I think I can work something out.”

“Fantastic!” He stood up, draining the rest of his drink and setting the glass down. His hands went to the coat on the hook behind him and he flipped it over his arm. I collected my purse and looked up to see his hand reaching out for mine. Sebastian Stan’s hand, reaching out for me. The moment was not lost on me and a smiled to myself.

We thanked the owners on our way out, Sebastian holding the door for me. He extended his elbow to escort me, which I gladly took with my own arm. This time, however, Sebastian pulled his arm down, guiding mine with it and slid his fingers between mine, palm to palm. I peeked up at him and he stared straight forward, a grin plastered on his face. We walked, hand in hand, to the car.

At the car Sebastian spun me around to face him, leaning me gently with my back against the car door.

“I had a nice time tonight.” He smirked mischievously.

“I did too.” I smiled in my reply

“I’d like to see you again,” he questioned hesitantly, still smiling, rubbing his palms on my arms nervously.

“I’d like that.” I fisted the sides of his shirt, giving him a little shake. “Why are you acting so nervous all of a sudden?”

“What, I’m not allowed to get nervous?” He shifted his weight to his heels and ducked down to look me in the eyes. “You make me nervous. Ok?”

“I do not!” I scoffed, tipped my head back to laugh. I looked forward, leveling my eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know. Ridiculously honest.” He smirked again and then took a shaky heavy breath, his focus moving to my lips.

“Kiss me,” I breathed.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, his eyes moving from my mouth to my eyes and back again.

“You weren’t nervous to kiss me in the restaurant, in front of all those people… just kiss me.” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head at him, confused.

“I know, I…” his head dropped as he exhaled a snort. “Sometimes, being alone with you… I just… you make me so nervous!” His head shook slowly back and forth as if even he couldn’t believe the words he was saying.

“Stop,” I pleaded playfully. “It’s just me!”

“Just you?!” His eyes went wide and he smiled. “Just you?” His left hand drug down my side and he pinned me to the car with his hand, gripping my hip. His breathing hitched as he leaned into me, his mouth hovering over mine. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Ok,” I breathed out, shaking my head ever so slightly. “I won’t.”

“Promise?” Sebastian questioned me earnestly, pressing his forehead to mine

“I promise.” My eyebrows pulled together, my emotions scattered across confusion, excitement, arousal and pure elation.

“Good.” He pressed against me, his hips flush with mine, his breathing ragged and his pulse pounding in his neck. “You are beautiful.”

He smiled briefly and crashed his mouth into mine. A small cry escaped my lips before I pushed back into his relentless pursuit. My hands went to his neck, his jaw, then into his hair. I gripped, pulling his face harder into mine, as his tongue gently explored my upper lip and then my mouth. My heart was racing, goosebumps spreading across my chest and down my arms.

Sebastian pulled away to gasp for a breath, I mimicked his attempt in time for him to growl something softly and pull my face to his again. He took my lower lips between his teeth softly and I moaned. I could feel the tension building in his pants, his feet shifting in an attempt to both hide it and keep pressure against it. I fought my hips from bucking in response.

“Sebastian…” I started, interrupted by his soft lips pressing to mine, over and over, dancing against my mouth.

He pulled back to take a breath, his eyes steady on my mouth. He kissed my gently again, then more fervently, groaning in frustration. We pulled away again, hovering just beyond a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled.

“For what?” There was no hiding my panting, I gasped the words out.

“This…” Sebastian slid his fingers around my neck and into my hair, pulling me to him again. Our lips were swollen, only making them more sensitive to each kiss, each bite, each time we paused to simply feather our lips back and forth against each other’s, each time we smiled into a kiss.

A car started a few spots down, startling us both from our daze. I buried my face into the crook of Sebastian’s neck, pulling at the lapels of his jacket to hide my face as headlights washed over us. Sebastian chuckled and wrapped his arms around my head and shoulders, hiding his face in my hair.

“Busted,” he whispered. I giggled into his neck, eliciting goosebumps to flash across his skin.

I pulled away when the noise of the offending car had faded. Sebastian was grinning down at me, his eyes sparkling in excitement.

“Ready for my couch?” I lifted an eyebrow to him, biting my lip.

“And cookies!” he cheered.

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