#and threw in a line about how we would send his spouse the paperwork to elect those same benefits if she wants to stay on our plan

[zenathezee]

Me responding to an email at work: "Blah blah blah, yes, no, here's a line for filler that probably doesn't need to be mentioned at all but it's weird if the email is too short."

Response I get back: "Thank you for saying [line I threw in as filler], I didn't know that and it was very helpful!!"

[what-the-buckybarnes]

I Will Wait For You

Requested

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Child!Reader (platonic)

Fic Summary: Sebastian will wait for you. He’ll wait as long as it takes. (Part two to I’ll Watch Over You)

Warning: past child abuse, some sadness, mentions of divorce, brief mention of blood, insecurities

A/N: I wrote two endings to this. This one is kinda angsty. I haven’t finished the fluffy one but I’ve started it and that’ll be up at some point. I’ve included a line break where that will eventually go and I’ll add a link to the alternative ending as soon as it’s up. :)

Alternative Ending

MASTERLIST

You had been living with Seb for about 3 months now. Slowly, you were starting to become more comfortable with him, allowing him into your room outside of nightmares and sitting closer to him when watching TV. You spoke to him during dinner, albeit softly and in short sentences which often left more questions than they answered. Sebastian knew not to ask them; more often than not, they were the fastest way to get you to clam back up. He had to focus on the bigger issues, rather than the nitpicky details you gave him a glimpse of. He stored away everything into his head (even the details), the more important ones getting a place of honour on his growing collection of sticky notes about you. Those sticky notes were kept everywhere except where you could find them: they were in his pockets, closet, a box of your paperwork, on top of the kitchen cupboards where even a confident counter climber such as you would never find them. Little notes such as ‘tomatoes do not belong on sandwiches’, ‘doesn’t like when people touch their neck’, ‘enjoys when I run my fingers through their hair’, ‘celery tastes better when it is wet’ and ‘shoe size 37’. All things he would never find in a file (no matter how comprehensive) but were just as important as your name and age. They were what made up your identity, after all. Nobody else was quite like you, and he came to realise that more and more with every small detail you presented to him.

As he started to learn about you, he started to want to keep you. The past three months had technically been a temporary arrangement. Sebastian knew that you would be going back to the system as soon as they found a good home. The foster system in Romania didn’t have the resources to provide for all the troubled kids they were handed. Seb’s mother (who sometimes volunteered for the foster system) had reached out to him and asked him to take on a test subject of sorts. They would send him one foster child and he would care for the child until a family in America offered to take them in. They wanted to see if it was easier to find homes in a new country (disturbingly, foreign children were almost like some kind of trend. People like to look better than they really are). Sebastian agreed, so they sent you.

But now, three months and hundreds of shared, vulnerable moments later, Sebastian wanted you to stay. He wanted to have more vulnerable moments. He wanted more late night stories and more nights spent in each others’ arms with just the sound of their breathing. He wanted more tangled limbs and warm breath as he let you curl into him. He wanted all of it and more.

Something in Sebastian told him that nobody could care for you as he could. Nobody could understand the value of your voice and spirit better than he could. The selfish part of him told him that nobody deserved those craved moments as much as he did. He was here for you when you were hundreds of miles from home and had nobody but him in your corner. He was here for you like nobody else ever was and nobody else ever would be. Both of you deserved this chance.

So, when the three months follow up inspection came around, he pulled the social worker aside.

“I’d like to make this a permanent arrangement,’ he started. There was no point in beating around the bush.

“Mr. Stan-”

“Hear me out, please. Please. I’ve had 3 months to think about this. 3 months where I spent every day and every night with them and 3 months to completely fall for this child. I love them like I would love any biological child and I’d like to keep her permanently.”

“Mr. Stan, that is a hefty decision to make. It’s a lot of work. Not just the adoption process, but caring for her afterwards. You are an actor with no spouse and no experience with children in the middle of one of the world’s big centres. As much as I would like to simply hand over the paperwork and call it done, it is not possible. That is a human life, a child with a future ahead of them and certain needs that need to be met. If you are completely serious about this wish, I suggest you come into the office and do things just like everybody else. I also suggest you wait another three months before you do so. You need to be sure about this before you start,” the man said in a clipped tone. “Now, if you’ll allow me, I am here to inspect the living conditions you have provided for the child.” The worker moved past him and left the room, pushing him into the wall as he did so.

“Wait-”

“Show me around, Mr. Stan.”

Sebastian waited for the next three months. He spent more moments with you and took you along on his press tours and to set and to comic cons. He proudly showed you off by his side at the red carpet in glittering dresses and tailored suits and you kept your head down. You didn’t mind being there and you loved being at your foster father’s side, but you still had your trauma. The red carpet was difficult for you and you were just glad that Sebastian always knew when to usher you through a hidden exit into a quiet backstage area.

Just before the next inspection, Sebastian sat you down at the dinner table.

“Are you happy here?” Was his first question. Slowly, you sat up straighter. You nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you replied. Sebastian smiled.

“Do you want to move to a different family?” Your head snapped up and stared at him.

“What?”

“Do you want to move to a different family? Tell me honestly,” he repeated gently.

“I….no! I just said I’m happy here, didn’t I?”

“You did. I just wanted to be sure before I say what I’m going to say next.” Sebastian waited for a moment. He clasped his hands (left thumb over right thumb, as he always did) and took a breath as if steeling himself. “How would you feel about making this a permanent arrangement?”

“Per...permanent?” Sebastian nodded.

“Yeah. Like, stay here forever. Like live here permanently, or until you decide to move out, I guess. Like-”

“Adoption? Like adoption?” You interrupted shyly. Sebastian nodded. You pondered the offer for a moment. Were you ready for this? Did you trust Sebastian enough after almost 6 months? You knew abuse first hand, and to anyone who asked you could tell them that it was slow and meticulous. You didn’t walk into any relationship (platonic, romantic, or otherwise) knowing you were going to be mishandled. Abuse wasn’t obvious. It was under the surface, a jellyfish. You caught a glimpse of something, and you don’t know what it was. You think it might have been dangerous, but you’re not sure it was even there. You’re enjoying the water too much, you don’t want to leave so you ignore what you think you saw. You see it again and you’re surer you saw something this time, but you don’t want to admit there’s something there. You ignore it until it hurts you and you realise that weird instinctual feeling was a warning sign and you should have listened. That was abuse, a series of ignored warning signs because you don’t realise they’re warnings until it’s too late. Sebastian could still turn on you. He could still flip a mental switch and start abusing and then you would be with him permanently. You didn’t want a new family….yet. But you also didn’t want this to be permanent yet.

“I...I don’t think I want that...yet,” you started. Sebastian’s hopeful face fell. “I’m not saying never! Just...I need some time. That’s.. A really big decision to make and I don’t have good experiences with…..”

“With me?”

“No! With...this whole long term thing. It never ends well.” Sebastian was quiet for a second before reaching out to you. Slowly, he picked you up and walked to the couch, where he placed you next to him. He felt your tense muscles, afraid of him lashing out after your admittance. Sebastian took your braid in his hands, undoing the hairband at the end and starting to unbraid your hair. He gently combed through your hair, remembering his sticky note that said you enjoyed this. He reached the top of the braid and tugged out the silk ribbon he had put in this morning. Sebastian felt the smooth, emerald fabric between his fingers and then showed it to you.

“This hair ribbon belonged to my mother,” he said. “My step-father gave it to her when they first started dating.”

“I didn’t know you had a step-father,” you said softly, awaiting an outburst.

“He’s hardly recognisable, at this point. Alzheimer’s. I’d like for you to meet him before he dies, but I want to wait for a good day.”

“I didn’t know your father was dead.”

“He isn’t, I don’t think. My parents divorced when I was young. They fought a lot, screaming and crying. Sometimes my father threw things when he got very angry. Once, he threw a book. A big encyclopaedia about Romania. He wasn’t watching, blind with rage. The book hit me and I still have the scar, here on my forehead. That was the final straw for my mother. She packed our stuff up in the middle of the night and took us out of there. We were too loud, and my father found us just as she was leaving. He tried to grab her, but all he got a grip on was her hair ribbon. My mother says it was red, but I’m not sure she remembers,” Sebastian told her.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Secretly, you were apologising for more than just Sebastian’s childhood misfortune.

“It’s okay. Everything. All of it is okay, I swear,” Sebastian promised. You turned, burying your head into Sebastian’s shoulder. “Everything turns out okay in the end. My mother met a new man, got a new hair ribbon. My wound healed. Yours will too, with time. More time than the cut on my forehead, and with more difficulties, I don’t deny that. It will heal though. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t mind. I’ll wait. For you, I will wait until the end of time.”

Taglist:

@ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes  @badass-elizabeth