white blank wall

The human aura 101: Beginning to see auras

The human aura is an energy field around the human body. This field is like the skin of an energy system. It does a similar job as our skin and shares a lot of its qualities. In this series, I’m going to be focusing on what you can learn from it, what its job is as a part of our energy system, and some simple methods of working with it.

This post is based on my experiences with energy work and is a lot of UPG so please keep that in mind.

How to see a person’s aura:

Before we get into learning to perceive the aura, first you need to realize you might never see an aura with your physical eyes the way you imagine when you start learning. Very few people I’ve met who know how to see someone’s aura describe it as seeing it with their physical sight all the time. It’s to good to know that you can use your other senses when reading a person’s aura. How it feels, it’s texture, and any of its other qualities, are just as important as its color.

When you start learning to see auras it’s best to practice by yourself with a mirror. The ideal environment is a place you can relax with a blank white wall behind you. If you can, practice with a friend who is also learning to see auras so you two can take turns looking at each other’s auras. Once you are positioned comfortably across from a mirror or from your friend, it’s time to begin.

Relax your gaze a few inches away from your body. After a bit you should start to notice a faint outline around your body. This is the beginning of seeing the aura around a person. Continue doing this until you start to notice it’s no longer just a faint glow but you notice it becoming thicker or more colorful. As you learn to flex this psychic muscle more, it’ll be come easier to tune in and notice a person’s aura. It’s around this time in learning to see auras, things take a turn from relying on your physical eyes, to using your more psychic senses or “mind’s eye.”

Once you have a handle on getting a faint view of a person’s aura with your eyes, you’ve worked up that psychic muscle enough to effectively start reading people’s auras without focusing intensely with your eyes. It becomes a matter of tuning in your mind’s eye to seeing someone’s aura. It’s at this point in the learning process where you will find guides often fail because it’s hard to explain to someone how to use a psychic skill they may not realize they have.

The best thing you can do to keep learning is to practice on some friends who are interested in getting their aura read (the next post in this series will be “aura reading basics”). Getting feedback from people about what you are seeing is the best way to become more accurate and to learn what certain patterns and colors in someone’s aura mean. Keep practicing as much as possible like this until seeing someone’s aura is as easy as flicking on a light switch.

Some great ways to practice if you don’t have any friends to work with is to go to a park or public space and try and see and sketch the auras of people at the park. This is more difficult, but is a necessary step to feeling comfortable with what you see. Not having that feedback is hard since you might be left feeling like you’re making things up, but as you collect pictures of people’s auras you will start to see patterns in them. When I started learning, I would try and make myself do this at least once a week so that by the end of the summer/season, I would have a few dozen auras of people to compare to past readings. It offered a great insight into the way I see auras. This also helps you build a good sense of what really was in a person’s aura and what you imagined as you find consistency in your readings. 

Your intuition is your best friend when it comes to developing any psychic skill like seeing auras.

Other things you might see in a person’s aura:

If you start looking into different people’s auras, especially the auras of psychics and magic practitioners, you are likely to encounter aspects to their aura that are not just naturally there from the way their energy flows.

The most likely thing you are to see are wards or protective layers to their energy. Most magic practitioners have wards of some kind they put up around them that you will see. Most of the time you won’t be able to tell much about the ward looking at if it is an efficient and effective ward(s).

You are also likely to see sigils or symbols of some kind in/on a person’s aura. I sometimes will embed a sigil with energy onto my aura for specific purposes or goals I’m trying to accomplish. I’ve seen others have something like that in their auras too. 

Sometimes, you can see energy parasites in a persons aura. This is not super common since most parasites will be found more inside the energy body and not in the aura, but to get to the energy body they have to pass through the aura. If you are not skilled at identifying and removing energy parasites, I would not assume what you are seeing is one, but if you are worried, contact someone who does know about energy parasites to take a look.

Here are a few quick sketches I did of some people’s auras at the park today including my own:

The human aura series:

  1. What is an aura (?)
  2. Learning to see auras
  3. Aura reading basics (coming soon) 
  4. How the aura works and what it does (coming soon)
  5. Working with and healing the aura (coming soon)
the kisses au

because there are so many types of kisses! have some affectionate widowtracer because i refuse to believe their relationship is purely sex and angst

  • lena oxton is a very affectionate person
  • she is all smiles and hugs and friendly hip-checks and cuddles and sharing space and, needless to say, widowmaker is not.
  • so when they start this… thing
  • widow is not prepared for what comes next
  • she wakes in the morning covered in ten blankets and a snoozing lena oxton, surrounded by a mess of pillows and teddy bears and textbooks on theoretical physics, and it is warm and the sunlight was made for basking in, and she jolts a little in surprise
  • her talon bunker is cold and dark and decorated with one purple gouge across the blank white walls and the cot is stiff and poky and she has nothing but nightmares
  • lena stirs at her movement, grumbles sleepily. widow freezes, unsure of the protocol. does she… touch her? move? does she stay there? oh god what should she do?
  • she settles for tentatively touching lena’s hair. it’s soft, fluffy, perpetually messy, and she pats her head with cold hands.
  • ‘lo,’ lena murmurs, throat creaking a little, and widow blinks, snatching her hand back.
  • ‘good morning,’ she says, a touch stiffly. lena doesn’t seem to notice, tipping her head slightly and shifting closer, burrowing her head into widow’s neck and pressing a kiss to her jaw. the whole motion is easy and careless and widow can’t help but smile.
  • lena whispers something groggily against her throat, and she frowns in confusion.
  • ‘quoi?’
  • lena lifts her head for a moment. ‘said you look cute.’
  • ‘cute?’
  • ‘ya know, mornings. hair down. ‘s cute.’
  • ‘so do you.’
  • ‘mm. thanks.’ 
  • she’s waking up slowly, sitting up, bending over amelie to blindly kiss her face, opening her eyes, the soft brown gentle in the rising sun, her nose bumping clumsily against amelie’s icy cheek.
  • ‘there’s a diner here somewhere,’ she mumbles between kisses, aiming for amelie’s nose and missing spectacularly. ‘you into coffee?’
  • ‘café au lait,’ is amelie’s response, and lena snorts, snuggling into her shoulder.
  • ‘you and your prissy french coffee.’
  • amelie sticks her tongue out at her and lena pouts exaggeratedly, spread-eagling herself over widow and clinging.
  • ‘get off,’ amelie says, without meaning it. lena just smiles at her knowingly, and clings tighter, dotting kisses over amelie’s collarbones and humming some pop song.
  • ‘i want food,’ amelie says abruptly and decisively, and clambers off the bed with lena still attached to her. ‘shoes on. am i carrying you there?’
  • ‘yeah,’ lena mumbles, and then blinks. ‘wait, are we going naked?’
  • ‘no,’ amelie says, rolling her eyes fondly, ‘put your clothes on.’
  • lena sings as she straps the accelerator to her chest and slings a leather jacket around her shoulders, dances up behind widow and spins her around and presses the spiderbites into her ear and widow snorts when she makes a pun, eyebrows waggling
  • they walk to the nearest cafe and lena buys four pastries and feeds amelie pieces of an apple turnover as she talks about a recent prototype of the plane that she and winston are developing and widow hums and listens and feels the soft brush of lena’s fingers against her lips and the way they skim over her jaw and down her arm to her hands, and then lena gets momentarily distracted in favour of kissing each of amelie’s fingertips
  • and amelie tells her about sombra’s embarrassing moments, hands dancing in the air (she’s wonderfully expressive when she wants to be), smiles a little when lena laughs so hard she almost snorts coffee out her nose
  • they’re the best mornings amelie’s had in a while.
  • late nights are good, too
  • they curl up on the couch, and amelie wears lena’s fuzzy koala socks, and they watch old movies and lena squishes in next to her so close that amelie can smell the faint traces of the lemon soap she uses (and amelie steals on a regular basis) and she wraps her arms loosely around lena’s midsection and lena hums and traces her tattoos and pecks kisses on her wrists
  • and sometimes, every so often, lena comes home to amelie sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and hard eyes and lena talks her down with quiet words and soft desperate ‘i am here’ kisses and amelie cries and tangles her hands in lena’s hair and they sit together on lena’s kitchen floor and amelie mumbles about needles and gerard and monsters
  • at nights, they lie together, lena’s arms tight around amelie’s shoulders, quiet words of affection. lena learns a bit of frankly horrid french and takes a certain amount of delight in sneaking up behind amelie and whispering, ‘je t’aime’ into her ear
  • and her accent’s bad and the tones are wrong and she doesn’t quite say it like people in france
  • but it seems much more right than anything amelie’s ever heard
Will You Stay?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

Warnings: Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(

Word Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)

Author’s Note: so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to read :)



It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of having it all, of seeing it all. How warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.

Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you finally do.

What they never tell you about is after the fall. 

When you land. When you hit the ground so hard you feel yourself slip away for a little bit, your head spinning and you’re grasping for that feeling to be light again. They never tell you about how tight your chest is and how much it fucking hurts, like you’re bleeding yet desperately trying to sew yourself back together at the same time.

No, they never tell you about after the fall. Because where’s the romance in that? Nobody wants to write about the hardships, the pain and emptiness. Nobody wants to look at a painting splattered with red and black and the darkest purples. Where was the beauty in that?

There was no beauty. There was nothing to put on a pedestal, nothing to turn into a pretty picture with a smiling face. All that is left are cracked smiles and bruised knuckles and whispered hopes of trying, begging for an answer. There is no beauty in stained cheeks and watery eyes. There is no romance in a broken chest and empty lungs.

Beauty is pain, perhaps, but pain is not beauty.

Pain is not painted with flowers and rich silks and velvet trim. Pain is lurking in the shadows, the silent master that waits patiently for its turn to remind you that beauty is not everything, that love is misconception, confusion and a liar. Pain is the reality that you refuse to believe in when you’re suspended in the clouds.

And how stupid was I, how naïve I was to believe I could escape reality. That I could live in my pretty little painting. Idyllic and serene and fashioned perfectly to what I wanted. Created by my own fantasies and selfish heart, my pretty little painting. My perfect world. Gone, without a warning and without a sign.

Beauty is pain, but pain is not beauty. And how I wished I had realized that sooner.


I stared at the wall; the blank white wall was all I saw. I focused on the chipped paint and tried to regulate my breathing.

The apartment was quiet. Deadly silent, not even my own breathing could be heard.


A loud clang of a coffee mug meeting the edge of the counter jolted me from my sleep. The string of curses that followed forced my eyes open as I tried to curl deeper into the mattress. Sleep seemed to evade me as the strong scent of crushed coffee grounds filled the apartment, followed by a low whistle that didn’t follow a tune but was catchy in its own way.

I stayed in bed until the heavy footsteps and continued whistling drew closer to the bedroom.

“Good morning,” a deep voice broke through the last of the drowsy haze that covered my eyes. I ran my eyes over the low slung sweatpants and loose gray shirt, the scoop neck revealed the slight swell of his pecs.  When I finally met his piercing blue gaze, my heart stuttered wildly in my chest and judging by the smirk on his face, he could hear it.

“Hi,” I answered in a soft voice, completely anticlimactic but it was all I could muster. He chuckled and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. He brushed the hair from my neck, the warm skin of his palm elicited goosebumps over my arms.

“I made you coffee,” he murmured as his thumb traced my jaw.

I hummed. “I know, I heard you.”

He winced and I couldn’t help but laugh as I sat up, letting the comforter slide from my shoulders. I crossed my legs as I took the coffee mug from the bedside table and took a tentative sip, careful of the steam that curled from the rim. His hand slid from my neck to my shoulders then dipped beneath my shirt to trace my spine. I watched him, amazed how the sun light reflected in his eyes and how warm his skin looked.

“Will you stay?” I whispered as I glanced at the clock. He usually had to leave me early in the morning, most of the times before I woke. It was rare for him to stay past nine. I was lucky if he even stayed until nine.

He smiled, soft and apologetic as he kissed my lips briefly, humming that silly little tune under his breath.

“Only for a little bit,” he replied but I nodded anyways. I took what I could get it. So we sat as I drank my coffee and chatted aimlessly, stopping every now and then for a lazy kiss. He made me laugh so hard I spilled coffee onto the white sheets of the bed, but I didn’t care. I saw it as another memory, a little reminder.

And when he took my mug back into the kitchen, he was still whistling that tune, quietly but it reverberated throughout the apartment until the birds outside were singing along too.


There was no whistling now. No humming. No empty coffee mugs and no chatty birds. There was nothing.

I turned my head away from the wall and immediately my eyes fell to the droplets of coffee, still stained on the sheets of the bed. They hadn’t gone away, no matter how many times I washed the sheets. But I hadn’t minded then, I had liked knowing that they would always be there. The faint coffee smell always sent be back to that morning, that little slice of heaven. Now it seemed to be taunting, reminding me of everything good that I had lost.

“I’ll kill him,” a voice spoke from the doorway. I chuckled, but it was humorless.

“No, you won’t,” I whispered. I tried to take my eyes away from the drops of faint brown, but I couldn’t. I could feel his lips on my forehead, temple and lips. I could feel the giddiness in my stomach and the fluttering in my chest. I felt it all.

“No, you’re right.” There was dip as the mattress moved to accommodate the extra weight. “That would be too easy. We need a better plan.”

I smiled but it felt wrong. There was a flash of red in my peripheral as a head came down to rest on my shoulder. A sigh rattled through my body as a fresh wave of tears threatened to consume me again but I fought them. I wouldn’t cry. Not again.

“I’ll be fine, Nat.” It sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince her. Perhaps I was.

“Sure you will,” her voice had an easy confidence to it, something I wished I possessed. “But you’re not fine now. And that’s okay.”

I shook my head as I shrugged her off and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “What a way to end the week,” I chuckled bitterly as my palms became slick with tears. Natasha laid a gentle hand on my back and was silent. She didn’t try to assure me that everything would be okay, that the world would answer my prayers that this day would end and the next day would be better. She knew. She knew how easily fate switched hands.

She knew what I knew, except she accepted it long before I did.


I gripped my umbrella tightly as the rain pattered against the polyester, the cool air bit at my cheeks as I waited at the crosswalk. It seemed the white man would never appear, just the harsh red hand telling me to stop. I sighed and tucked myself tighter into my coat as I allowed my eyes to gaze out to my surroundings until the fell upon a flower shop that acted as a coffee shop too. The faint scent of coffee and buttery scones caused a harsh ache to flourish in my chest.


“Jesus, how much sugar do you take?” He raised an eyebrow at me as I sat idly in one of the wrought iron chairs. The air was clear and the sun was strong as the bustling streets of Brooklyn seemed like an afterthought as I stared at him.

“Enough to make me happy,” I shot back. He shook his head but I could see the smile across his face as he made his way back to the counter to get me more sugar packets.

“You know this shit is fake, right? This isn’t what real sugar tastes like.”

“Excuse me. Did I judge you when you tore through that whole pack of gummy worms last night? No. So let me use my fake sugar in my coffee.”

He smirked and handed me the pink packets. He sat down and picked off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into his mouth. He was beautiful. Mahogany hair pulled into a loose bun as his strong jaw worked at the muffin. I hid behind my coffee cup to hide my blush as the sweetness nearly burned my throat. Perfect.

“Wait here,” he said as he abruptly stood up. I didn’t even have a chance to question him nor remind him that I couldn’t go anywhere since he was my ride. Instead, I waited while I sipped away at my coffee and people watched. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard a distant pair of footfalls become louder. I turned my head and saw him walking towards me, a single rose clutched in his left hand.

“For you,” he murmured. My heart nearly fell out of my chest as I gasped softly. He normally didn’t do romantic gestures. He wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Any sort of affection I got was behind locked doors where no one would see but us.

I took the flower, afraid if I reacted to quickly the moment would shatter. The faint scent tickled my nose and I couldn’t help but smile. A hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb brushed over the rise of my cheekbone. It was fleeting, it was quick, but I felt the burn for hours after.

“Will you stay?” I whispered, staring into his bright blue eyes and begging for a different answer. His smile was forlorn as his eyes flickered to the rose, then to me.

“Only for a little bit,” he murmured then took the empty sugar packets in his hand and turned on his heel to throw them out.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Nothing but a memory and a rose to remind me that it was real.


I turned my head away, cursing the burn in my eyes. It had been two weeks since I had last cried over him and I refused to break that streak. I was finally doing better. I finally buried the pain deep enough so that it didn’t matter anymore.

The red hand changed to the white man and the crowd around my pushed me forward, leaving the memory behind me as the dismal rain pattered against my umbrella.


I moved four months after he left. The apartment was too suffocating; too much of him was left. Every time I stepped outside the streets of Brooklyn reminded me of him. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing something that made me think of him. When my job had an opening in Boston, I pounced immediately and without a second thought I told my landlord I was leaving that month and paid the last of my rent.

“I wish you weren’t leaving.” Natasha frowned as I zipped up my suitcase, having to sit on the top due to the amount of clothes I had managed to stuff inside.

“Hey, it’s not forever,” I assured her as I rolled the suitcase out to the living room. “It’s like, a two hour ride in the jet, if that. I’m sure you’ll find some way to stop by after every mission.”

“He misses you,” she whispered and I froze as my heart crunched painfully in my chest.

“Nat, don’t.” I stalked into the kitchen and began to close the boxes filled with plates and cups.

“I know he’s why you’re leaving,” she murmured as she followed me. I recoiled like she had stuck me with a hot iron. “I know the job in Boston is good, but you don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave.”

“Yes I do.” I turned to face her. Her eyes regarded me with a soft sadness that made my mouth dry and my throat clench. “There’s nothing here for me, Nat. I came to Brooklyn for him. He’s gone. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“If you just talked–”

“Natasha,” I finally snapped. I cursed the break in my voice as I turned my face away.

She sighed reluctantly and walked forward. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just – I don’t want you to leave. You’re like my sister, y’know?”

I smiled and felt a surge of gratefulness for her and flung my arms around her. She stiffened but relaxed a bit as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m not far. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I know. I’ve tried.” She smirked as I feigned offense. And just like that, the playful atmosphere returned but neither of us could ignore the taste of bitterness that tinged the air around us.


Mornings were not my thing. They weren’t something I avidly wanted to be a part of, especially on the weekends. So when some unseen force woke me up at seven on a Saturday morning, I was anything but happy. Yet, sleep evaded me and with a frustrated groan, I kicked off the covers and made my way into the kitchen. When I turned on the light, a scream forced itself out of my mouth when I caught a glimpse of the figure sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Hey,” the voice said, unphased and I immediately clutched my chest as I glared at the shadowy form.

“What the fuck Steve. Couldn’t you have knocked?”

Steve shrugged as he leaned forward. His blonde hair was limp against his forehead and his skin was paler than normal. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh, so sneaking into my apartment is your next best option?” He shrugged again and I rolled my eyes. “You Avengers need to learn a thing or two about privacy, Jesus.” Scowling, I stalked to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

I pulled out another and went to my Keurig and powered it on. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked as I stopped by the refrigerator to grab the creamer.

“Nice place you have here.” Steve ignored my question as he glanced around my apartment. “Boston suits you.”

I nodded as I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out his play. “Yeah, I love it here. It’s peaceful.”

His eyebrows flickered up before the settled back down and he stared at the Keurig. He looked haunted. I frowned at his gaunt expression and turned to the Keurig and inserted Black Silk and slid his cup beneath the spout and pressed a few buttons and soon coffee was pouring into his cup. I knew how he took his coffee I had made it for him only how many times at the Facility. As soon as the coffee finished, I added creamer and one sugar before stirring idly and slid the mug to him.

He nodded his thanks and wrapped his hands around the mug. I saw the slight tremble to his fingers as he gripped the ceramic and I frowned again.

“Steve,” I murmured. “What’s going on?”

He flicked his eyes up and seemed surprised for a moment. “I forgot how perceptive you are. Bucky always loved that about you.” I winced at his name and immediately turned my head to the floor. Steve sighed and set down his cup and rubbed a hand over his weary face. For the first time, he looked his age, 98 years old and tired of the world. “Something’s happened. Things aren’t so good…at the facility,” he muttered and my blood ran cold. I gripped the edge of the counter as I struggled to remain composed.

“Is Natasha–?”

“She’s okay, it’s not her,” he assured me quickly and I visibly relaxed. “She wanted to be here but she had to stay.”

I furrowed my brow as I stared at Steve, my brain turning to try and keep up. “What happened? Why couldn’t she be here?”

Steve swallowed as his shoulders hunched forward. “She had to watch Bucky.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.

“Watch Bucky?” His name felt weird against my lips. It was the first time I had spoken his name in months and automatically I felt something stir deep inside me. “Steve, what are you trying to tell me? What’s going on?”

Steve stared at the creamy liquid inside his mug. When his eyes finally met mine I was shocked at the pain that swam in the blue irises. “Bucky…he’s lost it. He, I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

My heart shattered for Steve as I saw the hopelessness weigh him down and gray his features. “Steve…” I whispered softly.

“He’s just…he won’t eat. He won’t sleep, he won’t talk to anyone. He hasn’t left his room in two weeks. Nothing I say matters. It’s the…this is the worst episode he’s ever had. I’ve never seen him like this in my life.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I rounded the breakfast bar and collected Steve into a hug. He didn’t relax. His shoulders still tense but he let me rub his back. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I am.” I sighed softly as I pressed my cheek to his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you Steve, you know how he gets. There’s nothing you can do, nothing any of us can do.”

“Yes there is,” he whispered and pulled back as he stared at me. Instantly, I knew what he was going to say and I began shaking my head.

“Steve–”

“Please, listen. Please,” he begged. “He needs you. He’s not…he hasn’t been the same without you.”

I shook my head again, this time more adamant. “He doesn’t need me,” I whispered.

“He does. He’s…he does, believe me, please.” Steve sighed and carded his hand through his hair roughly. “I can’t…I can’t help him. I can’t say anything, I can’t do anything. But if you…if you could just see him, just talk to him. Maybe–”

“I’ll make it worse.” My voice was hollow and it didn’t sound like me. “I promise Steve, I’m the last person you want there.”

No, goddammit,” Steve growled as he glared at me, years of pain burned in his eyes. “Don’t you see? He’s not…he’s not Bucky. He’s pretended that he’s been fine but he’s not.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t abandon him, please. Don’t. Not now, please.”

Abandon him?” I laughed. It was humorless and empty as I backed away from Steve. “He’s the one who left me, Steve. You don’t…you have no idea what he said…”


“Hey,” I called out when I heard the front door open. “I’m making dinner, hope you’re–” My words died in my throat when I heard the dorm slam shut again, the force shook the apartment. I froze and listened as heavy feet stormed from the door into the kitchen. I turned and saw his face, brooding and dark and I knew it was going to be one of those nights.

“How was training?” I tried. He ignored me as he strode to the fridge and ripped open the door nearly taking it off its hinges. He peered inside then scowled heavily before slamming it shut again. He didn’t offer me a glance as he stalked out again. I sighed heavily as I stirred the pasta and put the lid on. My first instinct was to run after him but I knew that wouldn’t do me any good. When he got in these moods, the only thing I could do was give him his space until he calmed down enough to come out.

I ate dinner by myself and stowed a plate for him in the microwave. I cleaned the dishes and went through a movie before I looked at the clock and realized it was past ten and he still hadn’t made an appearance. With a resigned sigh, I steeled my nerves and approached the bedroom door. Slowly, I creaked it open and found him lying on the bed face up. His hands clutched the sheets so tightly I could see the tears in the fabric and the whole room crackled with tense energy.

“Bucky,” I murmured. “Your dinner’s cold.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered and I tried not to flinch. I hated when he got this. Angry at everything but most of all, angry at himself.

“Yes you do,” I said as I closed the door behind me. I stepped forward until I could sit down on the bed, careful to keep my distance. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

“Nothin’.”

“Please,” I whispered. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Bucky laughed and I looked up. I wished I hadn’t. There was so much anger trapped in his blue eyes it made my skin crawl. “And what, you think I like being like this? You think I enjoy doing this?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that,” I protested. He snarled as he sat up and the sheets tore with him.

“Then what did you mean? You hate this part of me? Is this not good enough for you? Sorry love, this is who I am. Can’t always please you, can I?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Forget it,” he snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and clutched his head in his hands. My heart cracked in my chest as I watched his shoulders shake from the tremendous weight that constantly threatened to suffocate him. “You can’t fix me. I can’t be saved,” he muttered.

“Bucky, I don’t want to fix you. There’s nothing to be fixed.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You know damn well I’m as fucked up as anyone. That’s why you’re here. You want to help me, make me better. Change me. I can’t change, can’t you see that? Can’t you understand?”

“I don’t want you to change, can’t you see that?” I met his eyes as I begged him to understand. “I want to help you, please, let me.”

“Help me?” He scoffed. “Help me? You can’t help me, you don’t understand. You’ll never, ever understand.”

“Then help me understand,” I shot back as I leaned forward. “Let me in, please Bucky. Don’t try to do this yourself, please.”

“You don’t get it,” he sneered as his upper lip curled. “You come from a perfect fucking world. A perfect fucking family, white picket fence and everything. You’ve got your perfect fucking friends and your perfect fucking job. You don’t know a thing about what I go through, you don’t know jack shit. Stop pretending you understand because you don’t.”

I gaped in silence as his words lashed out like a whip, scalding over my face. “You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

“You think so?” He growled as he stood up abruptly, his blue eyes like ice as he vibrated with anger. “You think I need you? You can’t do anything for me, you’ve never been able to help and you never will. I don’t need you, I’ve never needed you.”

“Bucky, stop,” I pleaded. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be. I’ve never seen him this angry, never in my life.

“Fuckin’…you know what? Forget it.” He whirled around and stormed out of the bedroom. I sat in shock, my eyes wet with tears without even realizing it. I listened as the door was thrown open and winced as it slammed shut and shook the apartment. In the silence that followed, I crumpled onto the bed and gripped the holes he had made in the sheets as I tried desperately to control my breathing.

It’s not real, he didn’t mean it. It’s just a dream, it’ll be okay, I thought to myself like a mantra but the more I said it the less I believed it.

“Will you stay?” I whispered into his pillow as tears burned against my skin.

The silence that followed was the only answer I needed as I finally let the sobs rack my body.


“He needs you,” Steve whispered and I shook my head. I knew I was crying, I couldn’t help it. The memory of the night burned like a fresh burn.

“Believe me when I say this, he doesn’t,” I whispered as I backed up against the counter. The Keurig was hot behind me but I ignored it.

“He keeps asking for you,” Steve said and I closed my eyes at the fresh pain the flared in my chest. “Every time…every, every day. He always asks for you. And then – we have to tell him that you’re not there. And he just…he just breaks and I don’t know what to do.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” I whispered as I looked at Steve. “You know that, when he has his episodes he’ll say whatever comes to mind.”

Steve shook his head adamantly. “Not now. He begs for you, he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. Please. He needs you, he misses you so much.” He held his hand up when I tried to interrupt and I reluctantly kept it shut. “I know, I know what he said. He told me and so did Nat. He hates himself for it, every day he blames himself for making you leave. He’s scared. He’s so scared and he doesn’t know what to do but he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. He just…I know what he said and I know it hurt more than anything. But don’t give up. Not yet.”

I was really crying now and I furiously tried to wipe my eyes as I shook my head. “Steve, I…I can’t, you know I can’t.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you say yes?” Steve leaned forward and just the look on his face made me want to climb onto the quinjet. “Please. He’s my best friend…I can’t, I hate seeing him like this. You’re the only one who made him better.”

I bowed my head and watched as my tears splashed against my leg. “Steve…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t do anything. I know he says he needs me but…you don’t understand, he doesn’t…it’s not like that anymore. Maybe…maybe I’ll come when he’s calmer, when he’s out of his episode. But not now, not when he’s so vulnerable. I can’t do that to him, I can’t.”

Steve sighed and nodded gravely as he stood up and set his mug into the sink. He turned to me and enveloped me into a strong hug, a hug I hadn’t realized I needed until I was in it. I took in a shaky breath as Steve squeezed my shoulders. “You’re the only one he’s ever truly loved,” he whispered and my chest cracked open as I held back the hard sobs. He stepped back and gave me a sad smile and I could see in his eyes that he was trying to understand. That walking away right now was the last thing he wanted to do. “Please…think about it. That’s all I ask.”

I nodded and watched as he turned his back and disappeared out the window, the distant purr of the quinjet was what I heard before I sagged against the kitchen counter and cried harder than I had over the past six months.


It had been two days since Steve had come to my apartment and our conversation was all I could think about. I tried to move on. I tried to shake off his words. But they were like a mantra in my head that never went away.

He needs you.

He’s my best friend, please.

You’re the only one he’s ever loved.

He needs you.

And the more his words repeated in my mind, the more my resolve began to crack until finally I found myself purchasing a plane ticket and arriving at New York.

I approached the facility late at night, the lights still blazed despite it being close to midnight. With a sigh and fear clenching my insides, I strode through the front door and walked up to the security desk. The security guard was flicking through the CCTVs with a bored expression when I approached him.

“Sorry miss, no visitors at this hour,” he drawled as he kept his gaze fixated on the computer screens.

“I’m…um, I’m here to see Captain Steve Rogers?”

“No visitors at this hour,” he repeated again, monotone. I sighed and gripped the counter to hide my frustration.

“I need to see Steve Rogers. It’s important.”

“No visitors at this–”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I muttered as I whipped out my cell phone. The guy didn’t even acknowledge me as I dialed Natasha’s number.

“Romanoff,” she replied in a brisk voice though I could hear the exhaustion that dripped behind the cold voice.

“Nat, it’s me.” I eyed the guard as he still dutifully ignored me. “I’m here, at the facility. Where are you?”

What?” There was a sudden commotion through the speaker before her voice returned. “I’ll be there in a minute, don’t move.”

I ended the call and glared pointedly at the security guard who didn’t even move, his finger clicked on the mouse every interval of three. Some security I thought wryly to myself before I heard the elevator ping and out stepped Natasha. She looked exhausted, her hair was knotted and the bags beneath her eyes were a dark purple as she practically ran towards me.

“Hi,” I said once she stood in front of me. She nodded in greeting, her face grim.

“C’mon, he needs you,” she said in a stiff voice and I could tell she was barely holding it together. I followed her into the elevator and she pressed the button marked 35. Bucky’s floor.

“Nat,” I murmured in the quiet elevator. “How bad is he?” I knew Steve told me he was bad, but Steve had a tendency to overdramatize things especially when it came to Bucky. I wanted to make sure that what Steve told me was in fact, the truth.

“It’s good that you’re here,” she whispered. It’s all she said, but it was enough.

I nodded and swallowed thickly. “Are you monitoring him?”

“Full surveillance.” Natasha confirmed as the doors slid open and we stepped onto Bucky’s floor. “We have to.”

“Shut it off,” I whispered. Natasha was about to protest but I silenced her with a hard glare. “If I’m going to talk to him, it’s going to be just me and Bucky. He deserves his privacy. I’m not going in there until video and audio is cut off. I’m serious, Nat. I’m going to talk to Bucky as a friend, not as a psychiatrist. We don’t need to be monitored.”

Natasha nodded bleakly and squeezed my hand tightly. “Be careful,” she whispered before she disappeared down the hallway. I waited and calmed my churning stomach as I clasped and unclasped my hands in front of me. Two minutes later I got a text from Natasha.

Surveillance cut. Be safe, please.

I pocketed my phone and strode towards Bucky’s door. My hand hesitated in front of the keypad before I shook my head and steeled my nerves. I punched in the familiar code and the doors slid open.

Inside, everything was clean. The bed was made and everything was set within a specific place – nothing out of order. All of the picture frames were gone; the candles I had used to rid the metallic scent of blood were nowhere to be seen. The comforter was replaced with a dull gray quilt.

There was no color, no life.

Everything was too neat. There were no creases in the bed spread when I knew before he couldn’t have cared less how the blankets looked I was always the one who made the bed. The frames were gone but I saw the marks on the bureau from where the corners of the frames had hit too hard and chipped away at the stain. I could still smell a hint of the lavender candles I always used to light but it was overwhelmed with the scent of beech wood like he had done everything in his power to rid the lavender from the room. There were cobwebs laced in the corners of the room and when I looked down I saw cracks in the tile. I wondered how hard his fists had hit the floor to make those marks. The couches all had covers over them but as they fluttered in the air of the heating I could see the pockets of fabric missing from where he had ripped out chunks of the upholstery.

The entire room was set up to make it seem like he was fine when he was really anything but.

I turned my head and jolted when I saw Bucky staring at me. He stood in the doorframe of the bathroom seemingly frozen in place. His clothes were clean, his shirt pressed and his jeans free of grease stains. His hair fell loose around his face and his eyes were bright and wide.

“Why are you here?” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in weeks and I flinched at the sharp hostility in his tone. I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it. My sudden burst of confidence was dwindling fast and I tried vainly to grasp onto it. I turned my head away and swallowed thickly.

“Uh…I just, wanted to…I don’t know. Um, I just wanted to see how you were, I guess. But if you want me to go then I’ll, I’ll go–”

“Wait,” he broke me off as he leaned on the balls of his feet. “Sorry, um, you just…surprised me, I guess.”

I nodded slowly as I rocked back on my heels. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bucky nodded again and gave me a soft shrug. There was a pregnant pause and I opened my mouth to make my escape but Bucky beat me to it. “Um, sit, please.” He mumbled, pointing to the armchair facing the window. I chewed on my bottom lip before I relented with a sigh and walked forward, clutching my bag to my chest. Bucky sat on the loveseat that was before the TV.

“So,” I broke the silence once I sat down, “how have you been?”

Bucky shrugged, still not huge on conversation. It reminded me when I first met him. He barely spoke a word to me. It was like he didn’t know me, all over again. “You look good,” he muttered, completely dodging my question. I sighed inwardly as I subconsciously touched my hair.

“Yeah, well, you know. I’m trying. All in a day’s work, right?” I attempted to joke but I knew it fell flat. He wrung his hands together, spreading them apart then clutching them back together.

“And how’s that going for you?” His voice was empty, as if he was steeling himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear.

It was my turn shrug. “I dunno, seemed to have fooled everyone.”

“Everyone?” He murmured and his eyes finally met mine. The icy chasms took my breath away even now.

“Yeah,” I breathed out. His face was expressionless as he looked away. “So…you seem to be doing good.” I nodded to the bed with a small smile on my face.

“Of course I am,” he bit out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I winced, his words like a hot knife through his chest. Of course he was fine. He was the one who left me. Suddenly, everything Steve said flew out the window. Bucky never needed me. Just like he had said.

“Yeah,” I mouthed. “Right, of course.”

Bucky shook his head and I saw anger twist his features. “Why are you even here?” He stared at me, his eyes dead. My breath rattled in my chest as my mouth formed no words. After several heartbeats of silence Bucky shook his head and stood up, storming to the bathroom. The door rattled in the doorframe when he slammed it shut and I winced at the sudden sound.

“I don’t know,” I whispered into the silence. Hot tears formed in my eyes and I willed them to go away with a tight squeeze of my eyelids. I refused to cry again. I was done crying over Bucky Barnes. There was obviously no love lost with him, it was time for me to realize that. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry but I forced myself up with a staggered breath. With soft steps I pushed open the door and shut it quietly behind me. I looked up at the security camera that I knew was trained on Bucky’s door. Where I knew Nat and Steve were watching. I gave a small shake of my head, pressing my lips together as a fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes. My legs willed me towards the elevator and somehow my body followed.

It was almost mechanical, my actions, like the voice that spoke to me in the elevator. Once the doors closed I leaned against the cool walls hoping the cold will bring back some semblance of thought. I used the trip down to the ground floor as a way to gather myself. “Let him go, let him go,” I kept repeating to myself, like an endless mantra. I figured if I kept saying, eventually I’d believe it.

The ground floor was dead; the security guard had seemingly decided to leave the desk unattended. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I strode purposefully towards the revolving doors, repeating the three words in my head.

A sudden crash interrupted my train of thought as I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. I whipped around and saw the door that led to the set of the stairs plastered to the opposite wall, the hinges creaking slightly. Bucky emerged from the destroyed frame as he ran towards me, skidding to a stop before me. He was barely panting even though he had just launched a vibranium infused door into the next century.

“Don’t…don’t go,” he grated out, his voice so rough it sounded like sandpaper.

“What?” I managed to pull my gaze from the doorway to him. His eyes were slightly crazed, blown so wide I was worried they would pop out of his head.

“Don’t leave, please. Please…stay, stay.”

I gazed at him in shock, wondering if I was looking at the same guy as I slowly began to shake my head. “I, uh…I think I should go.”

No,” he sprung forward when I took a step back and froze in place. “Please, please. Don’t leave me. Not yet, not now. Please.”

I kept shaking my head as my legs unfroze and took two more steps back as I began to turn away from him. “I can’t, I can’t,” I repeated. I willed my voice not to break as I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my own feet. Bucky was quiet as I nearly sprinted to the revolving doors, my heart cracking against my ribcage. I almost made it, my hand outstretched to the handle when he spoke.

“I didn’t mean it.” Four words, spoken so softly but they reverberated throughout the entire room. “I…I didn’t mean, what I said. I never meant it.”

I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him just yet. “Why did you say it? Why? Was it just to – to hurt me?”

“Yes.” I winced at the single word that cut through my heart. It was like the final nail in the coffin, the reminder that I didn’t matter.

“Right,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I have to go.”

“No, no wait,” Bucky began pleading behind me as I pushed the glass panel before me. The door began to turn and just as I was about to reach the exit, the door suddenly screeched to a halt and my face nearly went through the glass. I peeled my face off of the glass and whipped around to see Bucky’s metal arm holding the door back.

“Let me go,” I demanded as I slammed my shoulder against the glass. It didn’t even budge. “Goddammit Bucky, I am going to suffocate if you do not let me out.”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“By trapping me?” I nearly screeched. “God, what else do you want with me? Do you just want to hurt me some more, really destroy my self-esteem? Because honestly, I think you have done enough.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice was fierce but I scoffed and nearly laughed in his face.

“How else could you possibly mean that, Bucky?” He bowed his head but didn’t say anything. He was dead quiet. I shook my head and slammed my hands against the glass. All it did was shudder. Tears pricked my eyes as my throat constricted. “Do you like seeing me like this? Is that what this is? Is this some sort of fucked up game for you?”

“What?” Bucky gasped. “God, no. It was never–”

“Then why?” I yelled, stepping three feet to the other glass panel that confined me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you know,” he whispered and I just gaped at me. A few moments passed as I waited for him to respond, to elaborate in some way. But he didn’t.

“Know what, Bucky? What are you talking about?”

“You just know,” he repeated, the plates in his arm rippled as he gripped the handle harder. “You…you look at me, and you know. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to talk, I don’t have to say anything and you just know. One look at me and it’s like you just…get it and no one has ever done that before.”

I blinked at him before I raised my hands up in defense. “You know, this might just be me, but isn’t that what people want? Someone who knows the other one? I really thought that was something good in a relationship.”

“It is, it was one…it was good. But it – it terrified me. Nobody has known me like that in…decades. Steve used to, but even now he doesn’t. But you…you, who has no idea what I’ve gone through. You’ve never held a gun in your life, you just know. You understand me like no one ever has and it scares the shit out of me. Because I’m so used to saying the right thing, to acting a certain way to make sure I wasn’t noticed. But you just…God you just see right through me no matter how hard I try to keep you out.”

“So…you said all of those things…because I know you?” I stared at him in disbelief. It was ridiculous, even for Bucky. I found it so hard to believe him. Suspicion began to grow in my stomach as I narrowed my eyes at Bucky. It was then that I realized he hadn’t looked at me. Throughout his whole speech he couldn’t even look my way. “Bucky,” I prompted. “Look at me.” He ignored me and I nearly exploded. “Jesus, the least you could do is look at me. At least give me that.” Seconds ticked away before Bucky finally tore his gaze from the ground and met mine. His eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t pinpoint, but it was something so strong it nearly knocked my breath away. “What aren’t you telling me?” I whispered. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Bucky shook his head as a small chuckle left his mouth. “This is what I mean,” he murmured, “you see right through me.”

“Then can you please explain what I’m seeing? Because it makes no sense right now.” Bucky seemed to shrink away at my voice. He carded his fingers through his hair while my gaze flickered over his body. He was wound so tight I worried he’d crumble right in front of me. “Please,” I whispered my voice softening as I took another step forward. “Tell me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t.”

“Why not? Bucky…why?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he hissed. “It shouldn’t…it shouldn’t be like this.”

I stared at him in confusion, trying to piece together his vague words. “Okay, okay,” I spoke to mostly myself but I knew Bucky heard. “You don’t have to tell me, that’s okay. Just, uh, explain, yeah. Explain to me what’s going on.”

Bucky sighed and dropped his head to his chest as if he was suddenly exhausted. His broad chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and I tried not to speak. I swallowed thickly and took a step back, to give him space though really he had enough.

“I don’t know…I don’t know how.” He began and I held my breath, afraid if I breathed too loudly I’d scare him. “It’s like, everything was a blur. I was okay, I felt, I loved, I knew what happiness was, I knew guilt and sadness. But it’s like nothing ever stuck, I just kept cycling through these emotions. And I, I always thought that if I ever met the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I’d have to lay all of the cards on the table. I thought I’d have to have this great intervention with the drama and the fanfare and the tears and everything.

“But then…but then I met you. And I didn’t have to explain anything. You just looked at me and smiled. And the way you look at me, it’s like I’m all you see, y’know? And I’ve never…that’s never happened before. Even on my worst days, you never wavered. You just held me and let me be me. I never had to worry about being Bucky or James or…him. I was just who I wanted to be and you…you loved me all the same. And I saw it, how much you loved me.

“I’m not…I’m not a good person. I know I’m not, but you don’t. You refused to believe it no matter what people told you, no matter how right they were. It’s like you didn’t care and you should because I’m…I’ve done bad things. And it scares me, it scares me that you can love me so unconditionally and I can’t even give you a fraction of that because I’ve done so much, I’ve done such terrible things that loving you can hardly make up for anything. And I tried, I tried so hard to make things right with you. To try and be good for you. But you saw through that too, you saw through it all and God it scared me.

“And I knew the only way for you to see, to understand me, was for you to hate me. Only then would you let me go. And I didn’t want…I never wanted to hurt you. And I know I did, I know what I said hurt you in ways I never wanted to imagine. But you just…you saw too much. You saw too much and you knew too much and you loved so goddamn much and I can’t give you that. I can’t give you the love you deserve, I can never give you that. But you don’t…you didn’t get it. And I tried to make you see it but you…didn’t so I had…I had to make you see.”

His voice broke at the very end, a sob wrenching through his clenched teeth and my heart nearly broke in two. His breath was ragged, as if what he had just told me equaled climbing Mount Everest.

“So…” I finally spoke as my mind struggled to wrap around what he said. “You don’t love me? Is this…is this the point? I love you but you don’t love me.”

“No, God, no.” Bucky shook his head as he carded a hand roughly through his hair. “Don’t you see? I love you too much. I love you so goddamn much it hurts. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t…it’s just, it’s not right.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as I crossed my arms. “Do you see a judge anywhere? Are we in some sort of Congressional meeting I’m not aware of? Is there a jury sitting at the security desk right now?”

He furrowed his brows. “No.”

“Awesome. Then what the fuck are you trying to prove and who the fuck are you trying to prove it to?” I glared at him as I spoke. Bucky opened his mouth but I was too angry to stop. “You know what Bucky, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Your past is fucked up. What happened to you is so beyond fucked up I can’t understand and I most definitely never will. But it’s exactly that. You’re past. You need to move on because I’m pretty sure everyone else has.”

“But–”

“Do not interrupt me.” I jammed a finger at him and he automatically shut his mouth. “You’re so goddamn immersed in your past you’re too blind to see what’s happening right in front of you. And you’re right. I did love you. I loved you so much that sometimes I don’t even think it’s real. Some nights I stay awake just to make a list of ways to prove to you how much I loved you without ever saying it.

“But fuck you. Fuck you for deciding who I love, or how I love, or when I love. Fuck you for not letting me prove it to you and not seeing it when I tried. Fuck you for never sticking around long enough and never showing that you cared. Fuck you for breaking my heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces afterwards. Fuck you for not staying.”

I was panting by the time I finished my rant. Everything in me buzzed as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. Bucky was silent as he stared at me, unmoving. I had never yelled like that before in my life and I was positive Bucky had never seen me like this.

“I’m–”

Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” I shook my head and turned away from him, my stomach rolled and twisted uncomfortably. “God, I’m so mad at you. I’m so fucking mad.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

“Good,” I shot back. It was childish but I wasn’t about to let him get the last word. But as soon as I said it I felt a wave of exhaustion rush over me and my shoulders dropped in response. With a heavy sigh I rested my head against the cool glass in search of relief but found none. “What do you want from me Barnes?” I finally whispered.

“I want a second chance.”

I scoffed under my breath. “Second chance? I gave you too many chances. You had more than one opportunity to stay. You chose not to.”

“Fine,” Bucky acquiesced. “Give me one more chance.”

“Right,” I said bitterly. “What’s going to be so different about this one? You’re going to tell me you love me and then leave? Won’t that be the icing on the fucking cake?”

“Let me prove to you that I love you. This time, for real. No more running, no more games. I swear to you I’m gonna be there this time.”

I turned my head to the side and watched the moonlight dance on the steel beams of the door. “I don’t trust you,” I admitted honestly. I could feel the walls locking in around my chest, protecting me from whatever he said.

“I know,” he repeated. “Give me a chance to win that trust back.”

“That’s two chances, Bucky. You said one.”

“A chance to win your trust and another to prove that I love you, and that you love me too.” I turned to face him, about to give him a snarky remark but the moment I saw his face my voice died. He was open, raw, vulnerable. His eyes shimmered with unfallen tears and his gaze was so intense I felt as if I was drowning. “Please.” Just one word. But it was loaded with so much sincerity and desperation I couldn’t find it in me to say no.

“Okay,” I finally relented and his face utterly transformed. A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes and he immediately stood up straight. “This is not a yes,” I immediately snapped as I glared at him. “This is just an opportunity for redemption. But we go my pace. Whatever I say goes. You so much as cross a line I swear to–”

“I know.”

“And you’re not kissing me. Or touching me. Unless I say so. I’m serious Bucky, no funny–”

“I know.”

“This does not guarantee anything either. If I’m not happy or I don’t believe you then I have every right to–”

“I know.”

I scowled angrily at him as I placed my hands on my hips. “Do you know everything?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I know you.” I forced the scowl to stay on my lips despite the smile that threatened to shine through.

“Right, of course you do,” I grumbled.

“So,” he smiled that million dollar smile that made me weak in the knees the very first time I saw it,

Will you stay?

Domestic Sprace headcanons
  • Domestic sprace
  • Spot is a vegetarian, and when he and Race move in together, Race has the hardest time learning how to cook things that don’t involve meat.
  • For the first month or so, Spot basically has to live off of protein shakes, because Race keeps accidentally making chicken fettuccini or burgers, until Race finally buys a vegetarian cookbook. (Thug Kitchen. Check it out.)
  • Why isn’t Spot cooking, you ask? He accidentally set the stove on fire one day trying to make a quesadilla and was banned from using the appliances.
  • Let me tell yall about their dog. She’s a pit bull mix named Rosie, and Spot picked her up one day from the shelter. (“I was just there during my lunch break for fun and I couldn’t not get her!”)
  • Race was kind of hesitant about getting a dog- he’s never had pets before- but goddamn, does he love Rosie. She sleeps in their bed every night and takes up more room than either of them combined.
  • They play tons of video games together, and have a horror movie night at least every two weeks, usually more often. The bloodier, the better.
  • Spot’s the cleaner. Race is perfectly happy to leave dishes in the sink for a week or just pile the trash bags by the door. After one of their fights (which are always loud and explosive) they made a deal that Spot would keep things clean as long as Race cooked and did the laundry.
  • Speaking of laundry, they share socks. All of their friends think it’s kind of weird. But they always get mixed up in the wash, so they just decided to put them all in one drawer and stop trying to figure out whose was whose.
  • They argue a lot, but it’s never over anything serious, and they never stay mad for long. When Race is mad, he goes for a drive and when Spot gets mad, he goes to the gym. They both have their outlets and are respectful enough to give each other space when they need it.
  • Race snores like a chainsaw. Spot has invested in some really good earplugs.
  • You know that saying, “never go to bed angry”? Yeah, that’s bullshit. Sometimes they get angry right before bed and for that, there is a really good air mattress. It’s fine. They just sleep it off.
  • They have a really hard time agreeing on decor. For almost a year, their walls were just blank, white walls with nothing on them. They’ve divided out zones where they’re allowed to decorate.
  • The only exception was the time Race decided it would be cool to hang a clown mask on the wall. That resulted in their biggest fights ever. The clown mask is gone now.
  • Spot’s feel good show is the Great British Bake-off. Race’s feel good show is Criminal Minds. If one of them comes home and the other is watching one of those shows, they automatically know that it’s been a rough day.
  • Race plays piano.
  • Spot got Race a whiteboard once for Christmas, just so he could work out some of the physics issues he had to deal with at work. They used to have a strict “no work at home” rule, but it made Race twitchy and neurotic when he couldn’t work things out, so Spot finally gave in.
  • Spot sings in the shower. Not well. It always wakes Race up, because he has a tendency to take showers at ridiculous times, like 2 or 4 AM.
  • Spot is constantly falling asleep in places he shouldn’t, like on the couch or in the shower. Race normally just wakes him up and moves him to bed, but there have been a few times where he’s had to be carried. It’s not easy.
Read My Mind (Trixya) - Candy For Children

A/N: Hey! So this is my first time writing a fic in a few years, but I had this idea and wrote it all tonight in a mad dash! I’m thinking I will probably write more of this at some point soon, because I am pretty happy with how it turned out. I’d love any constructive criticism, Hope you enjoy! Also this is a AHS Coven AU, but I play a little fast and loose with the rules of the universe.

Summary: Trixie is a clairvoyant witch, sent to study at Mrs. Charles’s Academy for Gifted Girls, where she meets another young witch named Katya, and sparks fly (no pun intended).

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Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen part 4]

Hi, friends! I seriously meant to post this a few days ago, but life and illness made it difficult. Plus this is kind of a long chapter but I wanted to get it right. I hope I did! Let me know your thoughts. :)


Part Three: Evasive Maneuvers    Part 4      Part Five: Unavailable

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Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen Part 4]

Characters: reader x Bucky, Steve, Tony, other Avengers mentioned

Summary: Progression of the relationship between reader and Bucky as they make plans, which get rudely interrupted. 

Warnings: fluffy fluff plus a little angst

This is along one! It might be my favorite, though. I really wanted to portray the passage of time and how “real life” intervenes in a relationship. Plus the music! I had to add that kitchen scene. :D Thankfully, I’ve figured out the “Keep Reading” situation, so it won’t clog up your dashboard. 

Tag list: @holycoldcoffee @anitavalija @writingruna @you-and-bucky @imaginingbucky @marvelingatthewonder @squishybucky @bionic-buckyb @sebbytrash @bovaria @pleasecallmecaptain @animeroses318

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in the future! Send me an ask. 

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Sunlight fell across your face through a slit in the curtains. Turning away from the brightness, you opened your eyes and gazed into the still-sleeping face of Bucky Barnes. It must’ve been a restful night, his face relaxed with his lips slightly parted. Most nights were good but every once in a while he would wake with a furrowed brow and clamped mouth. You knew he still struggled with nightmares, but he didn’t like to talk about it. All he ever said was that it was always better with you there. Which is what made today so hard.

It had been a two weeks since that fateful night of Fraggle Rock and the following morning of bliss. You and Bucky fell into an easy routine of friendly interaction during the day and as much of a workout in the gym as either of you could handle before the REAL workout took precedent at night. You had moved beyond the wrestling mats by then and had just a little more self control in order to make it to one of your rooms before disrobing.

This particular morning, you were aware which room you had stumbled into last night in a instant. Bucky’s room still consisted of 4 blank white walls, a bed, and a small bookshelf with a lamp on top. You were all for the minimalist look, but it could use a little personality. In a moment of inspiration, you grabbed a black Sharpie from the bookshelf and uncapped it. Rolling onto your stomach and scooting up to the wall above the head of the bed, you began to draw.

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3

Title: St-Stupid.

Pairings: Kyle Spencer x Reader, Kyle Spencer x Madison Montgomery

Warnings: Implied sex, swearing.

A/N: I couldn’t find the gif link for the third gif, so I just linked the blog who posted it.

Gifs: [x] [x] [x]

You stared at the blank, white walls. The groans and grunts from Kyle, moans and whines from Madison and the sound of skin against skin heard through the paper thin walls. You cringed, eyes filling with tears as you tried to block out the sounds.

Kyle had met you at a party at the end of high school, he was instantly attracted to you like a magnet. You two started talking and became friends. Friends turned into friends with benefits which later turned into a relationship. You made Kyle’s life bearable, you made him want to continue living whereas he didn’t before.

However your relationship was cut short when you found out you were a witch, supreme descendant actually. You feared that you couldn’t withhold something as important as that from Kyle, so you broke up with him. You thought it would be for the best; you wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally losing control of your powers and hurting him. So you left him behind, without any way to contact or find you.

Then you found out what happened on the bus and couldn’t stay away. You needed to find him, make sure he was okay. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when you found out he had died in the accident. You couldn’t help but blame yourself. If you had gone to the party, you could’ve made him come home with you instead of with the other frat guys. If you hadn’t broke his heart and left him, you probably would’ve been curled up on your bed, watching a re-run of his favourite show.

However fate just wasn’t on your side. Kyle was gone and you were partially to blame.

You had became quite close with Zoe since her joining the school and once she told you that she revived him and took him back to his mom, you instantly insisted that you went and took him back. He couldn’t be with that monster, especially with his mind complete mush.


Now he was safely in the school and your mind could be at peace. That didn’t last long though, because Madison wanted to dig her claws into him and make him hers. Zoe didn’t agree, but she was prepared to start a fight with Madison. You, on the other hand, were quite the opposite.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, wiping away any stray tears and wiping your running nose on the back on your hand. You stood up abruptly and stormed out of the room and to where Madison and Kyle were fucking like rabbits.

You wrenched open the door, the sight before you hurt your heart but you persevered. With a wave of your hand, Kyle was dragged from Madison’s semi-naked body and Madison was thrown off the bed, hitting the wall with a thud.

“Kyle, pull up your pants.” You demanded, not taking off your eyes of Madison, who was smirking.

Kyle scurried to pull his pants up, staggering back slightly before scampering to your side. He looked at you with big, doe brown eyes and you reminded yourself not to fall for it.

“Touch him again, Madison, and I’ll kill you, again.” You snarled, grabbing Kyle’s hand and dragging him out of the room and back to yours.

He slumped down on your bed, burying his head in his hands.

“St-Stupid!” He murmured, self-hatred filling his veins. He had hurt you.

His hands weaved into his curly, blonde hair and a fist formed, he started tugging at his hair. You scrambled towards him, placing your hands over his and gently removing his hands from his hair.

“You’re not stupid, baby, you were just mislead, okay? Don’t ever call yourself stupid again.”

You crouched down in front of him, intertwining your fingers and placing them on his knees.

“I should’ve protected you, I’m sorry, but I’m going to make you better, alright? We’ll get through this.”

“I-I l-love yo-you.” Kyle stuttered, eyes casted downwards and brimmed with tears.

“I love you, too.”

You stood up and placed a chaste kiss on his hairline, both of your eyes fluttering shut.

“I won’t leave you, Darling.”

Masterlist || Requests: [Open] || Ships: [Open] || Ship Rules!

We Built This House (On Memories) // A Phan One-Shot

Genre: slight angst, mostly fluff tho

Words: 1.8k 

Relationship status: together

Warnings: none

Summary: … he’s afraid to….as if it’s someone else’s house. Not his. But it is his house. It just doesn’t feel like it yet. / AKA an obligatory Dan and Phil moving fic

A/N: I wrote this in literally twenty minutes, so it’s v bad, but I felt like it was my duty as a phanfic writer that I do this, so…yeah.

Title comes from “House of Memories” by P!ATD (I know it’s overused for titles, but I just couldn’t help myself)

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Touché (Part 7)

Genre: Hitman!au, Hitman Jungkook
Pairing: Reader/Jungkook
Length: 2.9k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Finale

Originally posted by d-boyz

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Snowbaz Swimming Au

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

ao3

yoooo i think this might be the longest chapter yet, and I started planning the other ones. i want to finish some more and queue them or something idk

baz pov again

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Butterfly Love Pt 2

PT 1 HERE 

Anon asked : “I red your story “butterfly love” of jimmy and it was very beautiful , maybe could you write a sequel of it??”

GROUP- Bts

PAIRING : Park Jimin x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count : 1.3k 

Synopsis: 

In which Jimin seeks solace in your memories together because he has given up on writing his wedding vows

Excerpt:

“How long were you watching me for?” you chuckled. Jimin let out a laugh. “I lost track of time I think. I always do when I look at you soon to be Mrs. Park”

A/N: Thank you for requesting anon. I hope you don’t mind that I didn't exactly make this a continuation of part 1. You can read both of these as a stand alone. This idea is actually inspired by of my friend’s works in our literature class. So thank you to @kpop-is-mye- life for letting me use a similar concept to her idea!


Originally posted by bangtan-oppa

Throwing his head back on the chair Jimin drew in a deep breath. Cracking his knuckles, he grabbed the pen once again. But instead of penning down words, the pen stayed trapped between his fingers as he fiddled with it. He threw one look at the blank sheet in front of him, and his head automatically fell onto the paper with a light thud. He had been trying to write down your wedding vows for about 6 hours and he hadn’t come up anything. Not a single word. “Yoongi hyung is seriously a genius, coming up with lyrics and I cant even write my own vows” he whispered to himself as his eyes closed on him

Despite the urgency he was feeling, words refused to flow out on the paper. He opened his eyes, a blank white wall was staring back at him reflecting the wordless sheet his cheek was resting on. He groaned and stretched his limbs to drive away some of the stiffness his body had acquired as a result of sitting for hours on end. He walked around the room, careful not to disturb you as you slept peacefully. He stopped mid step, and turned to look at your frail figure covered by the sheets. He felt a certain warmth watching you wrapped in a cocoon of innocence, like a butterfly.

The bed dipped as he took a seat next to you. Your face was illuminated by the night light,which you had insisted he place in the room , for fear of unknown things looming in the darkness had disturbed you for weeks on end in the absence of said night light. He chuckled to himself quietly as he recounted how you clung to him in your sleep one night after you had ended your horror movie marathon.

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anonymous asked:

I T ' S H A P P E N I N G (probably). any thoughts on how/when they'll announce this move? My guess is that they've prefilmed a lot, but how many liveshows can they make excuses for?

phil could tether and do a livestream in front of the blank white wall with the entire rest of the flat boxed up around him and we wouldn’t know

That’s Not Me

Castiel x Reader - High school AU

A/N: The day has come! It’s this special Angel’s birthday! In celebration, here is a crappy and rushed series. I cracked the very last chapter out within like three hours, please forgive me for spelling errors or the poor quality ending.

That’s Not Me Masterlist

Summary: After stumbling upon a piece of graffiti in a closed down video store, you gain interest in who might have made something so gorgeous in such a small town and try to put everything together to figure it out.

Warnings: brief mention of sex

Word count: 3596

Originally posted by princesscas

It wasn’t exactly unusual to see graffiti all over the blank white walls of buildings or hidden away in the dark alleyways between houses, but it was always the same; either a racist blood red swastika or people’s tags that were sloppily painted. Unlike your father, who was a police officer, you really enjoyed the look of graffiti – if it’s actually art – and you’ve always wished you had some form of artistic talent to be able to create something so beautiful that doesn’t require words.

A recently closed down video store was to the right of you, squished in between a technology store and a music store, its windows smashed and its glass door cracked at the hinges. A hissing came from inside of the building, your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you peeked inside slowly, your head turning from left to right. It was completely dark inside, apart from the centre of the room that was illuminated by the two small windows at the back of the store.

Looking back and forth down the empty street, you climbed in through the shattered windows and carefully stepped closer until you were able to see somebody standing at the side wall that had been covered by a large shelf. The light was shining on the wall, revealing a gorgeous cluster of different hues that formed a soaring eagle, behind it were large black and white mountains that looked oddly familiar.

The man, or woman, stood in front of the wall, their hand going back and forth with a spray can as they coloured in a small section of the mountain they had earlier painted. Whoever it was, they hadn’t known you had entered the building yet, they must’ve been really into their work. It was so much more beautiful than those horrific tags on the building beside it, and you couldn’t help but stare at it in amazement.

Without thinking, you took another step closer to the wall, but only happened to step on a couple of scattered glass that must’ve been from the window. The artist turned around rapidly, but you weren’t able to see their face as a hood covered their head. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said, your eyes flickering back to the wall behind him, “I just wanted to see it. I-it’s really gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

Judging by the voice, it sounded like it was a guy; a young one at that. Although, his voice was muffled by mask over his mouth and nose that was barely noticeable.

Believing that he knows you weren’t going to call the police, you took another step closer, only for him to grab his stranded backpack and run out of the back exit door. It didn’t surprise you that he ran, you probably would’ve done the same thing.

You took a couple more steps towards the wall until you had to lift your head to see the top of the mountain, which had a miniature flag with a bumblebee on it. The eagle was painted in a mix of blues, purples, pinks and yellows, and was almost as large as the wall itself. The corners of your mouth curled into a small smile, finally knowing that somebody around here might be able to change people’s opinions of graffiti. This is art, not vandalism.

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We Don’t Talk Anymore (Part 6)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Requested: No

Word Count: 1,711

Summary: Everything was going perfectly for both of you, but then he changed.

Author’s Note: Enjoy! :)


(Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | (Part 4) | (Part 5) | (Part 6) | (Part 7) | (Part 8) | (Part 9) | (Part 10) | (Part 11) | (Part 12: Finale)

Originally posted by kaisanity

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Someone Call The Doctor (Jimin)

with the help of my tumblr best fran and bloody genius writer 4meensuga​, here’s a little spin to a doctor’s visit with dr. jimin :) 

Genre: hospital fluff with just a pinch of angst

Word count: 2560

Rating: don’t read if you if you hate hospitals? or if fluffy Jimin is too much to handle?

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