go-back-to-sleep-america

sebastian stan literally just,,,he just…he paid for a whole bunch of kids on the big brothers big sisters programme in LA to have a private screening of cacw…he did that…he paid for their tickets, he bought their food and drink…for all of them, just bc he can??? like it wasn’t publicised outside of one insta post so he didn’t do it for the press??? he just did it bc he could and it was something rad for them???? idek where this is going he’s just so wonderful???

He's Home

“Please don’t go.” You’d begged holding tightly to Steve’s arm. You had a bad feeling in your stomach. Call it a gut feeling, whatever it was it wasn’t good.
“I’ll be home before you know it.” He’d murmured against your lips.
“Don’t go. Stay here.”
“I can’t. I have to go.”
“Steve.” He’d kissed you again, pinning your body to the wall one last time before disappearing out the front door. That was the last time you’d seen him.
Now your days are blurs, you function like an adult but you no longer find much joy in anything. You’re so broken inside, people probably wouldn’t notice unless they really knew you like Nat and Clint.
Bucky had disappeared not long after Steve. He’d stayed with you for a while, the two of you attempting to work through your grief together but one day you’d woken up and he was just, gone. You prayed for them to come home every night. No bodies were ever found and that kept your hope afloat, hardly but it was there. You still texted Steve’s phone everyday. Just hoping and praying for an answer, there never was one.
Good morning Steve. I love you. You write before hitting send after yet another sleepless night. It might be a hallucination but you swear you see that grey bubble that says someone is answering for a second.
Hello?
Steve?
Bucky?
Please someone answer me. Please are you there?
Steve?
You type out frantically to no avail, there’s still silence in the other side of the screen. Two hundred and nineteen days of silence. You flop back onto the bed you shared with him and blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling. You get ready for work in a daze, did you really see those dots or was it your imagination.
You get to work and normally the silence of the library is welcome but today you’re so distracted that you don’t even notice Natasha come into the building until she’s standing in front of you.
“Hey.”
“Oh god!” You breathe in sharply pressing your hand to your chest.
“Sorry.” She looks grim.
“Nat.”
“We found his shield.”
“And Steve?” You hardly dare to ask. She shakes her head and you sigh heavily.
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t find Bucky either?”
“No. But if Bucky doesn’t want to be found he won’t be.”
“I miss them Nat.” You admit softly and she grasps your hand tightly.
“I know. I do too. But we’ll find them. Want to come to dinner with Clint and I tonight?”
“Oh, um maybe.”
“Come on. You need to live again. Steve would hate to see you like this.”
“I know. I know.” You say half heartedly. You know she’s right, he’d hate to see you so broken. Which is how two hours after work you find yourself pulling on a dark tee and a pair of skinny jeans. There’s a tap on the door and you go it assuming it’s Nat. The sight that greets you isn’t what you were expecting. Steve is standing there, sort of. Most of his weight is being supported by an equally injured Bucky.
“You’re- you’re here. You’re alive.” You breathe astonished.
“He’s in bad shape.” Bucky says half dragging Steve into your apartment.
“In the bedroom.” You say calling Natasha.
“Hey we were just about to come up.”
“They’re here.”
“What?”
“Get up here.” You hang up then hurry into the bedroom to help Bucky tend to his and Steve’s wounds. Nat and Clint are much better caretakers than you are and get both men cleaned and stitched up quickly.
“Where were you?” Natasha asks looking at Steve who has his head in your lap. One of his hands is wrapped around yours and the other is clinging to your leg like he’s never letting go.
“It was a Hydra trap. They tried to brainwash me but didn’t have the red book to know how.”
“So basically they just tortured him.” Bucky interrupts from the chair in the corner.
“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” You ask him running your fingers through Steve’s hair.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up if I was wrong.” A soft snore surprises you from your lap. “Thank you Buck.”
“He would have done it for me. Hell. He already has.” Clint helps him to his feet then out the room.
“Get some sleep.” Natasha murmurs kissing the top of your head. “He’s going to need you.” You nod then she turns off your light and shuts the door. You hear them leave the apartment as your eyes drift shut and you lean your head against the headboard. For the first time in two hundred and nineteen days you fall asleep quickly.
“No!” Steve screams waking you. You click on the lamp on the table.
“Steve.” You say and he whimpers, “Steve.” His eyes fly open and they look confused and scared until they meet yours.
“It was real.” He sighs sitting up.
“You’re safe.” You say taking his face in your hands. You brush your thumbs against his cheekbones and his hands go to your wrists.
“You’re real. Kiss me.” He whispers and you do. Your lips slide across his in a kiss that is more reassuring to the pair of you than passionate.
“I should have listened to you.”
“You’re safe now. That’s what matters.” You say your forehead resting on his.
“I put you through hell.”
“It was worth it to have you Steve.” You murmur against his lips. “You’re home. You’re alive. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He says wrapping his arms tightly around you and going back to sleep. He’s home. He’s alive.

[RusAme] Unknown Spirit- Part 2

Originally posted by socialpsychopathblr

<<Read Part One>>

Russia turned on the lamp on the table, looking into its warm amber glow before perching on the arm of the couch and watching America’s eyes flutter open, alertness burning in his gas-blue eyes. “Did I fall asleep on the couch?” he asked, voice ragged. He looked surprised and went to sit up, but Russia placed a hand along his still cold chest.

“Lay down.” He stopped for a moment, lost at what words to use. Should he tell him? He watched as America shivered and sighed in relief. He was warming back up again. He seemed to have missed getting hypothermia by the smallest sliver of chance. “You were sleepwalking,” he finally said and pulled the blanket back up to his neck.

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