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I Can Go Anywhere I Want- Just Not Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. I've been BUSY with school and this one took fucking forever. But it means a lot to me, I hope you like it. :)

Word count: 13.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: do me a favor and pretend Bucky didn't disappear in the blip. ok thanks bye.

Warnings: talk of financial struggles, food insecurity, housing insecurity

A familiar shape stepped onto the sidewalk just ahead, freeing itself from the shadows of a rundown motel. The lines and curves of this body forced your heart into your throat. Time seemed to stop. The world round you ceased its turning. You’d know those broad shoulders anywhere, and you’d remember that sharp jaw even after your soul left this mortal coil.

You stood there, your feet rooted in the concrete, watching him with a longing that tore through your chest. How long had it been since you last saw him? How many months had passed since you last spoke? You made yourself stop counting the days long ago; it was too depressing, too pathetic. But while you forced your brain not to continue the tally, your heart kept count.

His sudden motion caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. The shape that once resembled home headed down the street, slipping through your fingers a second time. But you couldn’t let him get away- not again.

Even after you freed your feet and increased your pace, he remained ahead. His long legs carried him away from you as he glided past people on the sidewalk. His hands rested in his pockets, concealing his trademark from the world. His head bowed forward, he kept his gaze down. He didn’t want to catch the eye of the public. But he caught yours.

“Bucky?” your call came out a desperate plea. Blowing his cover wasn’t your goal, but he was too fast. You had to stop him before he vanished again.

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice. You could’ve sworn you saw his head fall another inch or two, as though he were disappointed to know you’d found him.

But he turned. And for the first time in almost a year, he faced you.

“Bucky.” It wasn’t a question this time, but an affirmation. A reassurance. An unstoppable smile pulled at your lips, a sigh of relief left your chest. You almost wept. “Hi…”

The darkness that clouded your mind in his absence parted all at once, making way for a golden glow of twinkling lights. You hadn’t seen him since the battle. Since the shimmering portals. Since everyone returned home after Thanos fell.

He simply stopped answering your calls. Your texts. He didn’t return your voicemails.

To this day, you wondered what you did wrong. What you did that pushed him so far away. It wasn’t like him to ice you out, to cut you off without warning. He had baggage, sure, but he never shied away from you. Not like this. At one time, you were his closest friend. His most trusted confidante. And he was yours. You spent every moment together, taking shelter in each other. But not anymore.

Each night, you recounted the last time you saw him. You analyzed every detail, scrutinizing the minutiae of the interaction. Maybe you said something that offended him. Maybe you did something hurtful. But no matter how hard you wracked your brain, not one single red flag made an appearance. And it made Bucky’s sudden disappearance from your life all the more maddening. More hurtful.

Sometimes, you liked to think that he just used you. That he got what he needed from you and moved on. It somehow softened the blow of his loss. Painting him as a manipulator took the blame off your shoulders and made him the villain. But you could never convince yourself of this narrative for long. Bucky wasn’t the type of person to use others. He gave and gave until he had nothing left. Or until he left.

With a few strides, you closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s so good to see you, Buck,” your instinctive reach for a hug left your arms hanging in the air as he took a small step back. It was then you realized just how embarrassing it was to drop your arms to your sides after an unwanted embrace.

“Hey- hi,” he cleared his throat and cut his eyes to the side, almost like he couldn’t bear to look at you. He stared at the passing cars, the flier-covered streetlight. Anything to keep his gaze from lingering on you. He wasn’t sure he had the strength.

But he couldn’t help himself- he had to look at you. And as his eyes finally landed on yours, a familiar warmth sliced through his trepidations. He’d been aching for so long now; he’d didn’t know what a life without pain felt like. Every day, he hurt. He suffered. But the biting agony stilled as he stared at you.

His lungs filled to capacity for the first time in months. The knots in his stomach untangled themselves. He’d forgotten how light he felt around you. You had a way of making things feel so easy, so simple. Everything in his life was complicated, and each day grew more difficult than the last. No matter how hard he tried, he never quite got his head above water. But with you standing there before him, he broke through the surface for the first time in ages.

He drank you in for a long moment, taking inventory of the ways you’d changed, and the ways you’d stayed the same. Your radiant smile still poked dimples into your cheeks. Freckles still splashed across your skin. But he noted the all too familiar braid in which your hair was twisted. The letter ‘N’ dangling from a dainty gold chain around your neck.

Bucky knew losing Nat wasn’t easy on you. Knew that you’d been mourning her all on your own. He should’ve been there for you, should’ve been your shoulder to cry on. He hated himself every day for making you go it alone.

“It’s um,” Bucky didn’t know where to start. “It’s been a while…”

A quiet, awkward laugh rasped out of your throat at his understatement, “Yeah, you could say that.”

A long pause forced its way between you. Things with Bucky never used to be this awkward, this tense. He was nearly a stranger now. And it killed you. Your friendship always flowed without difficulty, without pressure. It became second nature. The two of you moved together almost as though choreographed, anticipating the other’s actions instinctually.

But those instincts died and were buried, along with your hope of ever patching things up.

“Um, are you- where are you headed?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“I was just gonna- I thought I’d grab some breakfast.”

“Oh! Me too!” Finally, you had something in common. “Can I-” you quickly rephrased, fearing you may scare him off. “Do you wanna go together? Maybe we could catch up?” You knew you were throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t stop. You were so overwhelmed, so desperate to be near him; you didn’t care how crazed you seemed.

Bucky’s shy smile made an appearance, “Yeah, that would be nice.” He kicked himself for not appearing more excited, more overjoyed by the reunion. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than anxious.

The walk to the diner was less awkward than you anticipated. The conversation flowed a little smoother, the words came a little easier. But it was still clunky. And though more silence than you would’ve liked hung in the air, you breathed easier knowing that he was merely a few inches away.

Things between you simply needed to thaw. You needed to shake the rust off and find your way back into the groove you carved out for one another. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I thought you said you were getting breakfast,” you joked, “not just coffee.” You sat across from Bucky in a beat-up booth, it’s cracked, torn vinyl dating the restaurant. When the waitress asked for your order, Bucky insisted you go first. And when you’d finished rattling off your perfect breakfast, Bucky dismissed her with a “nothing for me.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on people,” you said, only half-joking. Maybe he really did hate you, after all. The months of dead silence suggested as much.

More often than not, you tried lived in denial. You told yourself any lie you could come up with- anything to ease the pain of missing him. Even after his less than enthusiastic reaction to your reunion, you buried your head in the sand. Surely, he was just surprised to see you. He just needed some time to warm up, to come out of his shell.

But he only ordered coffee; clearly, he didn’t plan on staying long. He had an escape strategy locked and loaded. You knew he planned to fulfill your request for a catch-up session and run for the hills as soon as he emptied his mug. Upon your realization, everything came crashing down. His scant order slapped you with the cold hard facts: he’d cut off all communication, ignored you for months, and seemed to lose his appetite at the very prospect of sharing a meal with you.

Maybe missing him was a waste of your time.

“No, it’s not like that,” very real concern coated Bucky’s words. “I’m so- I’m really happy to see you.”

His fingers twitched as the logical side of his brain shut down his attempt to touch you. All he wanted to do was reach out and rest a hand atop yours, maybe stroke your knuckles a few times. It was something he used to do all the time, something that, at one point, reassured the both of you. But things were different these days. He didn’t have the right to be so familiar with you, not after he chose to make himself a stranger.

He gripped his coffee mug with both hands, stemming any impulses to reach for you. “How have you been?”

There’d been a time when you would’ve told him everything. You would’ve spilled your soul and let loose every ugly detail of your life. Being honest with each other used to be easy. Neither one of you had to fear judgment or ridicule; you were safe in the other’s hands.

But those days were long gone. He clearly didn’t want to be your best friend anymore- he barely wanted to know you at all. He was, at most, an acquaintance whose soul used to be tied to yours. And so, you opted to forego the truth. You didn’t tell him that you cried yourself to sleep most nights. You didn’t tell him that you missed him so badly it caused you physical pain. You didn’t tell him that you needed him. Instead, you gave him what he wanted: an easy, canned response.

“I’ve been good,” you forced a smile to your face and shrugged. “Just been working, doing the whole SWORD thing.”

He raised his brow, “Oh, wow. You work for SWORD now? I had no idea. Good for you.”

He feared his feigned surprise came off too fake, too forced. But you didn’t seem to clock it. You really believed that he was out of the loop, but you should’ve known better. It was ludicrous to think he’d ever be uninformed about your life. Of course, he already knew you worked for SWORD He knew that you moved into a new apartment. He even knew that you were planning on adopting a cat soon. He asked Sam about you almost daily, scrounging for any details he could get.

He just needed to know that you were okay, that you were safe. And happy.

“Yeah, I started a few months ago. It’s been-” You paused a moment, allowing the waitress to set down your food. The table in front of Bucky looked so empty; with no food anchoring him to the restaurant, he could leave at any moment. “It’s been alright. But how about you? What have you been up to?”

He took a moment to formulate his response. He needed to be careful. Precise. Allowing too much to slip could ruin everything. “I’ve just been working with Sam,” he shrugged. “We had to take care of that whole Flag Smashers thing.”

“I saw that!” you said, your mouth full of pancakes. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thanks, yeah,” Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink. “And I had my pardon hearing.”

You nodded, “I watched all the news coverage about it.”

He forced his eyes down to his mug; he never used to get embarrassed around you. “You did?”

“Of course.”

Bucky wanted you there that day. He wanted to rest his hand in yours and experience the peace only you could provide as he waited for the judge to call his name. And when he finally received his pardon, he wanted to turn around and see you- wide smile, eyes brimming with happy tears. He wanted to wrap his body around yours and thank you for being his rock.

But he didn’t invite you along.

He, instead, sat alone in the hall, with no one to hold his shaking hand, until a bailiff ushered him into the courtroom. Sam wanted to be there, but his nephew begged Captain America to make an appearance for Bring Your Dad to Work Day. And who was he to say no?

When the judge awarded Bucky his pardon, no one cheered. No one ran to his side and granted him a congratulatory hug. He collected his papers and made his way out of the courthouse. Alone.

He got a heap of texts and calls from you that day, though. He watched his phone ring with your name and picture taking up his screen. He poured over your kind texts and listened to your congratulatory voicemails. Even after he shut you out, you made sure he knew that you supported him. That you still cared. But he didn’t return your messages.

He did, however, listen to your voicemails on a loop. Hearing your voice again gave him an escape, a life preserver. You’d never know how much those messages meant, how often they saved him. He promised himself he’d tell you- one day.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t have even needed a pardon,” you said with an eyeroll. “I mean, you didn’t do anything. None of it was your fault.”

Bucky had nearly forgotten how unabashedly supportive you were. How you were always on his side, no matter what. He wondered why you still wanted to be on his team after months of silence.

“Well, the US government feels differently,” he sighed out a soft laugh. “And it’s taken care of now, so it’s all good.”

He appeared hopeful, almost optimistic. He had Sam, he had his pardon- he seemed to be doing well. And though you wanted more than anything to be in his life, you just wanted him to be happy. Maybe your friendship didn’t serve him the way it served you. Maybe he felt like you didn’t give him what he needed. Maybe his life was better without you in it. The thought stung. It forced your throat closed, nearly sending you into a choking fit. But you swallowed your pancakes along with your pride, and vowed never to beg Bucky to come back to you.

“Good. I’m happy for you.” You stopped yourself from reaching for his hand. “Can I ask something that might be a little invasive?”

Bucky’s heart stopped, “Um, sure.”

“I saw you coming out of that motel…” you shot him a suggestive glance. “What was that about?”

Bucky stiffened. He grew tense, anxiety flooding his system. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… was there maybe a little-” you raised a brow at him, “hook up situation going on?”

He laughed at your overdramatic wink, the way you licked your lips. And he thanked his lucky stars you came up with a cover story for him. “Oh, yeah…” he grew bashful about his fictional sexcapades. “It’s just a- it’s casual, you know. Nothing serious.”

The confirmation of your suspicions made your jaw drop. Bucky Barnes, the old-fashioned gentleman, actually had a friend with benefits. He’d had a secretive, motel rendezvous. Hell, he probably had hickeys and nail marks hiding under his shirt.

A pang of jealousy tore through you like the nails of his lover. Why did she get to be near him? How did she rank above you? The unsettling feeling of envy almost possessed you, but you pushed it aside.

“Woah, look at you,” you feigned appluase. “I always knew you were a ladies’ man, I just never got to see it in real time.”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker.” He regretted his word choice immediately, knowing full well he broke your heart.

You sidestepped his comment and forced the conversation forward, his comment stinging your open wound. “Seriously, Buck. I’m happy for you.” Once again, you stifled the urge to touch him. “You deserve to have some fun.”

He stared at you for a long moment, a genuine smile on his face. You were so sincere in your support of him, so unashamed of how deeply you cared. Sam was an incredible friend, of course- but you were his soulmate. He was tied to you with an unbreakable thread, unable to free himself even if he wanted to. And he wanted to. But not because he didn’t adore you; it was a simple matter of worthiness.

But no matter how hard he tried, he still thought of you daily. Almost constantly. He missed you, pined over you, wished he could exist in your world. But he couldn’t- not yet.

He shook the grin from his face and pulled his gaze down to his mug once again. “I’m um- I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Things have just gotten…” He cleared his throat, “I’ve been really busy.”

A scream scratched at your throat, but you forced it away with a bite of eggs and a swig of coffee. Of course, Bucky was busy. But he wasn’t the only one. It seemed that SWORD wanted to run you ragged. They were always assigning you extra operations and looking to you to solve problems. But even with the mountains of work, even in your sea of grief for Nat, you still managed to reach out to Bucky. You still called, still texted.

But he clearly didn’t want to make the time for you.

“I totally understand,” you lied. “Shit has been crazy. Don’t worry about it.”

You worried about it every day.

Breakfast wrapped up all too soon. Bucky argued when you paid for his coffee, you hushed him with a promise to let him cover yours next time. And in the blink if an eye, you found yourself standing next to him on the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t walk away.

“I should really get going,” he said, taking a step away from you. “I have a meeting.”

“Cool, yeah,” you forced a smile, “this was great- I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, me too.”

It seemed to you that Bucky couldn’t care less if he ever saw you again. He was disengaged, disinterested, inching ever farther away. He tried to be subtle about it, tried to slowly escape the interaction. But you caught his tiny steps in the opposite direction. His body remained closed off, the space between you growing with each long, awkward pause.

But even so, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t let him walk away without knowing if this was the last time you’d see him.

“We should do this again-” you sounded so needy, so anxious, but couldn’t find it in you to care, “but only if you want.” Never had you felt so pathetic. There you were, practically begging Bucky to signal that he gave a shit about you.

But all he could muster was a nod.

“Awesome,” you pulled out your phone. “Do you still have the same number?”

Again, he nodded.

It killed you. All this time, you’d hoped that he got a new number and simply forgot to tell you. That your texts and calls went unanswered because he didn’t receive them. But he did, indeed, receive them. He just chose to ignore them.

With a swell of tears gathering behind your eyes, you sped through your goodbyes. You threw Bucky a hurried “great to see you, I’ll call soon” and quick smile before turning away and heading for a hiding spot, a concealed place to cry. The person you cared about more than anything, the person you adored, the person for whom you’d lay down your life, didn’t want you anymore. The bitter taste of rejection coated the inside of your mouth. And as you ducked into a bodega down the street, you feared you might get a second look at your breakfast.

You were gone too soon. Bucky wanted to call your name, to run after you. Even after months apart, he could still sus out when you were upset. He remembered your tells. Your dead giveaways. The way your jaw hardened against oncoming emotion. The tendency of your voice to grow thin and hollow as tears loomed on the horizon.

He knew he hurt you.

But he found himself stuck, his body defying the orders of his brain. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He could only stand there, helpless, watching as you disappeared.

He knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with him after he abandoned you; he was surprised that you even acknowledged him on the street- let alone invited him to breakfast. And after the way he acted at the diner, he was shocked that you asked to see him again.

The conversation you had replayed on a loop inside his head, and he kicked himself for being so closed off. So cold. He’d sullied your reunion so severely- it was almost aggressive. He was dismissive. Curt. And he lied to your face- multiple times.

He was so happy to see you- he didn’t want you to think otherwise. But he didn’t expect to run into you like that. He didn’t expect to be near you for another few months, at least. He had a plan, and he was doing his best to follow it with as few setbacks as possible. If he kept his head down and pushed himself, he could get to the point where he could explain. He could tell you the truth and make you part of his life again if you even wanted anything to do with him. Though he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

But running into you outside the motel wasn’t part of the blueprint. And he panicked.

He'd held you at arm’s length, never daring to get too close. He kept everything superficial. Surface level. It was the shallowest interaction he’d had with you to date. And it felt wrong. It didn’t fit who you were as people, who you were as friends. Your bond was never the skin deep, small talk type. No, you delved into one another’s deepest thoughts. Bared your souls. He’d never kept a secret from you- nor you him. But that was a different time.

Disappointed, Bucky unrooted his boots from the concrete and trudged off in the direction of his morning meeting. And while he did his best to focus, to participate, he could think of only you. The heartbreak in your eyes. The hurt in your voice. A wave of nausea barreled into him as he replayed the interaction again and again. You deserved better. And Bucky wished more than anything he that could be better. For you.

But two nights later, your phone rang.

It was late- nearly midnight. You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, neck deep in your Vampire Diaries rewatch when your phone started to buzz. An unfamiliar number popped up on your screen, accompanied only by Siri’s suggestion of who might be calling.

‘Maybe: Kings County Jail’

You stared at it for three rings, wondering how someone from the jail got your number. And just as you were about to deny the call, something in your gut told you to answer it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was divine intervention. Either way, you hit accept and held the phone up to your ear.

“Um, hello?”

An automated message responded, “You are being contacted by a detainee at Kings County Jail. The detainee-” the recording paused, leaving space for someone to state their name. Your favorite gruff voice followed, “Bucky-”

“-is trying to contact you. Do you accept the charges?”

A riptide coursed through your brain. Questions upon questions piled up, each one trying to escape your lips first. But you swallowed them for the time being.

“Yeah- yes, I accept.”

The line connected, and Bucky’s soft “hey…” came through from the other end. “Thanks for picking up.”

“Buck? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “Yeah, I’m- I’ve been better. But I’m fine. I was just wondering if,” he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I was wondering if you could come bail me out?”

He gave no context, no reasoning, for his stint in the county jail. But you didn’t care. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Even after he ditched you and left radio silence in his wake, even after he practically ran from your reunion at the diner- you’d do anything for him. And there was no way in hell you’d ever just leave him there; you couldn’t. Bucky didn’t belong behind bars.

And so, you pulled yourself off the couch, found some shoes, and headed in his direction.

The bail money didn’t matter to you. Sure, things were easier now that SWORD paid you the big bucks. But even if your account was running on empty, you’d sacrifice your last remaining cents to free Bucky.

A guard led him down the hall by the arm and shoved him through the door. This wasn’t how he wanted you to see him. None of this fit into the plan he’d so carefully crafted all those months ago. But there you sat in the lobby of the police station, clad in your sweats, waiting for him. The shame nearly tore him apart from the inside out.

But as he locked eyes with you across the room, he didn’t find the judgement or irritation that he expected. You should’ve been angry with him- why weren’t you angry with him? He’d called in a favor after abandoning you. He made you come down to the police station, made you pay his bail. You should’ve left him to rot in a jail cell. But you didn’t. Because you cared. Even after everything he did, you still cared about him. He wished you didn’t. He wished you’d scream at him in front of everyone- but you were too good for that. Too kind.

He threw you a bashful wave, but averted his gaze when a warm smile crossed your face. He couldn’t quite stand the way your gracious expression made him feel. Why did you seem so happy to see him? Why weren’t you furious- or even a little frustrated?

As he waited in line to gather his backpack and personal belongings from the desk, he hoped for something to prolong his time away from you. A clerical error. A massive stack of paperwork. What was he supposed to say to you? How was he supposed to explain this whole mess? He needed time to put his thoughts in order. To organize his lies.

But, for the first time in history, a United States government agency did things efficiently and without error. And after only a few minutes, he made his way to your side.

“Hey,” he granted you only a flash of eye contact before dragging his gaze to the floor. “Thanks for- thank you for coming to get me. And for paying my bail…”

You shrugged, “yeah, absolutely”.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” It was then he realized that he didn’t want you to be angry with him. Sure, you cursing him out in front of everyone would be easier. Less complicated. But he’d rather die than upset you again.

“I know. I’m not worried about it,” you granted him another kind smile, “I trust you.”

It was a dagger to the heart. How- and why- did you still trust him? He’d excised you from his life without warning and left you in the cold; he wasn’t worthy of your trust.

“Are you all good here?” you asked, “Should we get going?”

“Sure- yeah.”

The walk to the car was quiet; Bucky couldn’t bring himself to walk next to you. Existing in your sphere, being seen by you- it was too much for him. Too shameful. Even if he was only in your peripheral. And so, he opted to position himself a few paces behind you. In the safety of your shadow.

He got settled in the passenger seat of your car as you turned the key in the ignition. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of your parking spot. Everything in you wanted to ask how he ended up in handcuffs. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t the type to make waves. Something bad must’ve happened- something out of his control.

But you knew it wasn’t your business. He clearly didn’t want you around anymore, didn’t want to clue you in on the details of his life. And you never liked to pry.

As the seconds passed, however, your resolve crumbled. No matter what happened between the two of you, you’d always care about Bucky. You’d always worry about him. And your concern finally got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Are you okay?” you stared at him, anxiety brewing in your chest. “You don’t have to tell me what happened- I won’t force you- but I’m worried about you.”

He nodded, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t rude, but his tone didn’t invite further probing.

With a sigh and an unconvinced “okay”, you put the car in drive and prepared to take Bucky home.

Your blinker clicked incessantly as you waited for a few cars to grant you a clear path. Bucky had ample time to give you directions, but he remained quiet. He didn’t offer up information of any kind, not even a neighborhood. It broke your heart that you didn’t know his address.

“Um, where do you live? Should I turn left or right?”

You waited patiently for an answer that Bucky didn’t seem to have.

“Actually, do you mind if-” he flashed you an apologetic smile, “could we just drive around for a while?”

Maybe he had some residual adrenaline from being arrested. Maybe being in jail gave him flashbacks to his captivity under Hydra. Either way, you knew he wouldn’t have asked to go for a drive unless he really needed it. Part of you was surprised, though, that he’d willingly spend more time with you. That he’d choose to share a confined space with you. He was all too happy with removing you from his life, and practically sprinted through your reunion breakfast. But after so many months of missing him, you’d take whatever extra time you could get.

The drive was quiet, though it did seem to help Bucky relax some. His leg stopped bouncing; his shoulders loosened up. Being around you had that effect on him; it wasn’t something he could help. But as he mellowed out, the questions swirling around your brain only multiplied.

At a red light, you tested the waters. “Can I ask you something?”

Bucky nodded.

“What happened tonight? How did you end up in jail?”

A litany of emotions ran across Bucky’s face. Frustration, worry, shame, and sadness tied his expression in a knot. Part of him wanted to lie. He could say it was a bar fight. He could make up an elaborate story and placate you for the rest of the ride. But you bailed him out. You answered his call and showed up for him when he needed you. You sat, clad in your pajamas, in the waiting area of a dirty police station. For him. He owed you the truth.

“I was arrested for sleeping in the park,” he said, his tone flat.

It wasn’t at all what you expected to hear. No answer formed on your lips. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his face. The words sunk in, burrowing their way through your flesh and plunging into your heart.

“Um, it’s- the light is green,” he said, snapping you out of your trance.

You hit the gas and accelerated on autopilot. And as soon as you made it through the intersection, you pulled over. Bucky’s confession knocked the wind out of you and robbed you of your focus. And if he had more to say, you wanted to give him your undivided attention.

“Why are we stopping-”

“Buck, why were you sleeping in the park?”

Bucky let loose a deep sigh that seemed to come right from his soul. “Because I don’t have anywhere else to sleep,” he shrugged. “I ran out of money.” He was silent for a moment, wondering just how honest he should be. “I’m supposed to be getting some POW benefits from the government, but you know, bureaucracy is slow.”

“Oh, Buck…” After everything he suffered through under Hydra, after the way the US treated him upon his arrival home, the least his country could do was pay him back. Or provide him with a safe place to sleep. But, once again, they failed him.

“You know that motel you saw me at the other day? I wasn’t there for a hook up; I’ve been staying there-” He corrected himself, “Well, I’ve actually been staying at a few different motels. None of them are extended stay, so I can’t be there more than a few nights.”

He noticed the way your eyes grew sad, the way your mouth fell open the slightest bit. Heartbreak was written all over your face. “Sorry to disappoint you, I know you hoped I was getting some strange with someone from Tinder,” he shot you a wink and flashed a smile your way. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

Bucky, of all people, deserved a comfortable home. Someplace warm. Permanent. Someplace he could call his own. Someplace he could feel safe. But, instead, life gave him the short end of the stick. Again.

“Anyway, no matter how cheap those motels are, paying for them every night adds up, you know? So, now I’m broke,” a rush of heat flooded his cheeks. Admitting to his situation was so embarrassing, so shameful, he thought he might drown in it. He was a grown- overgrown- adult who didn’t even have a roof over his head. “I got a warning from the cops last night -and the night before- for sleeping in the park. But tonight was my third strike, so…” He shrugged, “they arrested me.”

“Jesus Christ, cause not having a place to live is criminal?” you scoffed, “This country is ridiculous.”

“Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying,” Bucky quickly added on. He didn’t want you to think he wasn’t working on it, that he was slacking, that we was complacent in his situation. “I tried for a long time to get an apartment, but I either didn’t have enough money for the deposit or I’d get turned away when they realized who I was. Though it’s not like I could ever make rent…”

When he learned how much an apartment in Brooklyn cost these days, a suffocating sense of hopelessness swallowed him whole. He knew he’d never be able to afford the one place he ever really saw as home.

“And I tried a few shelters, but they wouldn’t take me, either.” He didn’t know a shelter could turn people away; experiencing it first-hand broke him. “So um, the motels were my only option.”

Sobs blocked your airway and burned the inside of your nose. Tears pooled along your inner lash line; you prayed to god Bucky wouldn’t see them. You could sense his shame, his embarrassment; the last thing he needed was you crying over his circumstances.

“What um,” you fought to keep your voice steady. “What about Sam?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sam’s been helping me with all the stuff for my benefits and getting my record expunged- he’s been a godsend. And he’s offered to let me stay with him more times than I can count. He’s offered me money- he even snuck some cash into my jacket pocket the other day,” Bucky gave a soft laugh. “But I can’t take any more from him; he’s already done too much for me.”

“I get that…” You knew Sam would happily let Bucky crash. But Bucky wasn’t the type to impose. “Sam’s a good friend.”

“He’s the best. I’m gonna pay him- and you- back, either when my benefits come through or whenever I can get a job. Whichever comes first.” It was a promise, a verbal contract. He didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t good for it- even if he wasn’t good for it quite yet. He knew he would be someday. And as soon as he had the money, you and Sam would be his first priority.

“I keep applying for jobs on the off chance that someone will cut me some slack, but until my record gets expunged, I’m fucked. Every place I’ve applied to has done a background check, and every time, my name is surrounded by red flags.” He let out a sigh, “I’m still a criminal.”

Your heart buckled. He wasn’t a criminal- he never should’ve been burdened with such a title. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t choose to be the Winter Soldier. But people didn’t care about the truth.

“What about SWORD?”

He shook his head, “They don’t want me. Hiring an ex-Hydra assassin doesn’t really work for their image. They’re trying to steer clear of the whole SHIELD thing…”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. Bucky hadn’t originally planned on laying everything so bare, he just couldn’t help himself. Opening up to you came naturally. But in the quiet, he felt naked. Exposed. He regretted spilling the details of his pathetic existence for you to see.

But you’d never judge him. You simply wanted better for him. And wished he’d come to you when times got tough.

The shards of your broken heart sliced through you with every breath. Imagining Bucky in rundown, roach infested motels or sleeping on an uncomfortable park bench on a cold night made you want to vomit. Waves of utter devastation crashed into you one after another, barely giving you enough time to breathe. But you couldn’t allow yourself to fall apart. Not when Bucky needed you.

When you finally steadied your breathing, you spoke. “Buck, can I ask- and I don’t mean this in an accusatory way,” you prefaced, “but why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I care what you think about me,” he said, almost automatically. “Your opinion of me is important.”

“Well, my opinion of you hasn’t changed now that I know what’s been going on…”

A smile fought its way to Bucky’s lips. Logically, he knew you didn’t think less of him now that you knew the truth. He knew you were too kind to look down on him. But his anxiety didn’t think logically. The smile lasted only a second, as his worries about your perception got the better of him.

“My life is a disaster,” he said. “I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t have any money. I don’t have a place to live. It’s humiliating.” He ran his palms up and down the length of his thighs, fighting the nervous energy. “I wouldn’t have even called you to bail me out if Sam was in town; I didn’t want you to know about all this.”

Without a word, you pulled back onto the road.

Bucky eyed the surrounding street, “Um, where are we going?”

“My place,” you kept your eyes on the road. “I’m taking you to my apartment.”

Panic bloomed in Bucky’s chest. “Oh, no, it’s- that’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” A swell of anxiety barreled into him at the thought of you taking him home like a dirty, stray dog. He didn’t want to be a charity case or your good deed of the day. And as much as he would’ve loved to spend time in your home, he wished to do so under different circumstances. Circumstances that didn’t involve pity.

“You can really just drop me off anywhere-”

His words tore through you. “Buck, it’s late,” you cut a glance at him. “And it’s cold out. I’m not just leaving you on the side of the road somewhere. I-” you cleared your throat, “I care about you”

Part of him wanted to open the door and jump from the moving car. Surely, it would be less humiliating. But the look on your face kept him from pulling the rip cord. Concern pulled your brows together. Worry made you bite at your lip. You genuinely cared about him, genuinely wanted to help. And though he could actually feel embarrassment seeping from his pores, he chose to stay. Because you caring about him trumped any and every other feeling.

“Okay, so, this is my place,” you said as you led Bucky though the front door of your apartment. You flicked on a few lights and kicked off your shoes, “make yourself at home.”

Bucky didn’t know how to do that anymore.

He stood stone still just inside the door, too overwhelmed and unsure to move.

“Um, so, obviously, this is the kitchen- and that’s the living room,” you said, pointing to an area with a massive suede couch. “My bedroom and the guest room are down that hall, laundry is to the left, and guest bathroom is to the right, next to the office.”

Bucky was impressed. The apartment was beautiful. You’d decorated to match your warm personality; it made him instantly comfortable. And it was nice- fancier than anything he could ever dream of affording. He was so proud of you. He knew you’d worked hard to get here, and seeing the fruits of your labor brought a smile to his face. He only wished he could’ve been a part of your journey.

“This is really nice,” he said, taking a few more steps inside. “Is it all yours? Or do you have a roommate?”

“Nope, no roommate. Just me.”

Bucky’s brows lifted as he drank in the space. You paid for this place all on your own, no help from a roommate. He wondered what it felt like to be that stable, that secure. He never knew where he was sleeping from one night to the next, and you practically lived in a penthouse.

“Um, we can sit, if you like,” you gestured toward the fancy couch, “it’s more comfortable than it looks, I promise.”

But Bucky didn’t go for it. “Actually, would you mind if I took a shower? I’m just- I feel pretty grimy from the motels. And the park. And the jail,” he felt his cheeks flush at the admission. He really was the filthy mutt you brought home from the pound. “I just don’t wanna sit on your couch when I’m gross like this.”

“Oh, sure. That’s- I totally get it. I should probably change my clothes, too.”

With a wave of your hand, you gestured for Bucky to follow you to the bathroom. As you guided him through your apartment, he admired the art on your walls and the expensive rugs covering your floors.

With a clearing of your throat, you gestured to the guest bathroom. “Everything you need should be in there but let me know if I can get you anything else. Can I throw your clothes in the laundry? I’ll wash whatever’s in your bag, too.”

Bucky gave you a strange look, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think you want me walking around here in a towel.”

You didn’t necessarily shy away from the idea, but this wasn’t the time for a suggestive response. “Okay, but- what are you gonna put on after you shower?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Whatever I have in my backpack.”

You eyed the bag slung over his shoulder and imagined the heap of clothes he’d balled up and shoved inside. “Are they clean?”

Bucky thought for a moment, “Define ‘clean’.”

“Buck,” you laughed, “just let me put your stuff in the wash.” You gave his backpack a gentle swat and motioned for him to relinquish it to you.

“So, you do want me walking around in a towel,” Bucky quirked a brow at you. “I knew it.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, “just come with me.”

Bucky did as he was told and followed you into your bedroom. It cloaked him in an instant warmth, a sense of home he hadn’t experienced in eighty years. The whole room seemed to glow with a cozy, welcoming aura. He wondered what it was like to fall asleep here every night, to wake here each morning. Well-loved books populated a large bookcase in the corner, an armchair sat near the window. Bucky could practically see you curled up on its large cushion, your nose buried in Pride and Prejudice. But a photo on the wall near your bed caught his eye.

“Is that me?” He took a few steps inside your door and found his suspicion to be correct.

It was a slightly out of focus candid shot of you and Bucky laying on the floor of the war room at the compound. Nat snapped it as the team talked through different strategies to bring everyone back from the blip. In the photo, you sported a massive smile, and had your face smushed against Bucky’s arm to stifle your laughter. Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut, his metal hand covering his mouth. You were both exhausted, and loopy, enjoying a moment of levity amidst a sea of tragedy.

“That’s my favorite picture,” something about your words came off sad. And Bucky knew it was because of him. The joy, the closeness exhibited in the photo didn’t exist anymore. He’d stripped your friendship of everything warm and left you out in the cold. Alone.

You made your way over to the dresser and fished around in the bottom drawer, “let’s find you something to wear.”

“Um, I don’t…” Bucky chuckled, “I’m not gonna fit into any of your clothes.”

You cut glance at him, “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you…” With a grand gesture, you unearthed a pair of sweatpants, “your clothes.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. He stared at the pair of charcoal gray sweats he lent to you ages ago, the pair you loved, the pair he told you to keep. He didn’t say anything when you plopped them in his hands; he was too stunned to speak.

“And here’s this,” you said as you draped a faded blue ‘NYC’ t-shirt over his shoulder. He’d loaned you that shirt so many times back at the compound, you wore it more than he did. Eventually, he started putting it in your closet instead of his on laundry day.

“Now, give me your bag and I’ll throw your stuff in the wash.”

Bucky finally dragged his eyes from the pair of pants and furrowed his brow at you. “Why do you still have this stuff?”

Something in you grew nervous. Was he mad? Or did he think you were a creep for holding onto his things? Maybe it was too weird of a gesture. Maybe you should’ve let him hang around in a towel after all.

“Cause I like wearing it,” you said with trepidation in your voice. “Your clothes were always more comfortable than mine. And I-” you cut yourself off. Saying ‘I miss you’ was too much. Instead, you rerouted, “I like to wear oversized stuff.”

Bucky nodded and gave a quiet “right” before thanking you and heading for the bathroom. At your request, he left his bag in the hall. You scooped it up and dumped his clothes into the washer before doubling back to the bathroom, where Bucky had dropped his dirty jail-clothes outside the door. You changed out of your dirty clothes from the police station and threw them in the laundry with Bucky’s. It was the closest you’d been in months.

Bucky nearly teared up as the water sliced through the layer of grime coating his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower this hot. The motels always seemed to have faulty water heaters that only allowed for subzero temperatures. And at some of them, the water didn’t quite run clear. Sometimes, there was a brown tint. Other times, it was gray. And showers like those left only him feeling dirtier.

But he didn’t want to think about the rust-eaten pipes of the decrepit motels in which he stayed. Instead, he basked in the nearly scalding water, the tiles that didn’t have moldy grout. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like a husk of himself, but a real person. All his time shuffling between park benches and rat-infested motels had stripped him of his personhood. And something as simple as a shower restored it. Though, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the incredible water pressure or the lavender body wash that had him feeling human again. It was you.

With the entirety of Bucky’s wardrobe in the washing machine, you paced lap after lap around the kitchen. Only a few days ago, you feared you’d never see Bucky again. And now, he was in your shower. After your chilly reunion at the diner, you couldn’t help but be mad at him, no matter how much you’d missed him. He was cool and aloof. He didn’t open up. And he didn’t seem at all interested in repairing your friendship.

But listening to him in the car laid almost every piece of the puzzle out before you. And though there were still gaps and empty spots, you nearly had the picture complete. Bucky didn’t ice you out because he hated you or didn’t want you anymore. He was simply too embarrassed to admit what he was going through.

A sharp twinge of guilt needled at you. You shouldn’t have been mad at him after what happened at the diner. You shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions or assumed the worst. Bucky deserved better. You should’ve known in your heart that he was only pushing you away to protect himself. It was his nature; it always had been. You’d just been too hurt to see it.

“Your shower is unbelievable,” Bucky said as he padded into the kitchen, his hair still damp. “And those towels? They’re amaz-” A stack of Tupperware on the island caught his attention. “What’s all this?”

“Leftovers. I cooked dinner earlier tonight…” You shrugged, “I thought you might be hungry.”

He shifted his wide-eyed gaze from the food, forcing his eyes to land anywhere else. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m fine.”

You quirked a brow at him, “You’re not hungry?”

“No.” It was quiet but firm.

“Really? Cause the Bucky I knew needed to eat like, six thousand calories a day.” Bucky’s insatiable hunger was a running joke between the two of you back then. He always finished your food when you couldn’t clear your plate, and snacked on anything he could get his hands on. On one occasion, he even fell asleep in your bed with his hand in bag of honey mustard pretzels. Hearing him refuse food was strange, almost alarming. “You always called yourself ‘Earth’s hungriest hero’”.

Bucky gave a small laugh, “yeah, damn super soldier serum will do that to your metabolism.”

You stared at him, “So…”

“So?”

“So, do you want something to eat?”

“No, really,” he shook his head, “I’m fine.”

But you noticed the way his stare always returned to the stack of containers. Even after he’d pulled his focus from the food, his eyes found their way back. You sensed a longing in him, a deep desperation that left you gutted. Any jovial, lighthearted quality your words held fell to the wayside, making way for concern.

“Buck, when’s the last time you ate?”

Bucky did his best to think back to his last meal but couldn’t find an answer. Part of him wanted to lie, to appease you with details of a made-up dinner from earlier that night. But he didn’t get the chance; his pause was too long for your liking.

“Okay, if it’s taking you that long to remember, you need to eat.” It wasn’t an offer or a request, but an order. “Help yourself.”

But once again, he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose-”

“It’s not an imposition,” your words came out with an unexpected fierceness; it almost sounded like a scold. The idea, the mere suggestion that Bucky could impose on you was ridiculous. You took a breath and softened your tone, “I live alone, and every recipe is for more than one person. There’s plenty.”

Before Bucky could refuse again, you opened the Tupperware and allowed him a look at the fruits of your labor. “There’s roasted chicken with rosemary and thyme, garlic mashed potatoes, and maple-glazed brussels sprouts.” Bucky’s eyes lit up. You could practically see drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

A sense of satisfaction enveloped you, like you’d finally banished Bucky’s unnecessary fear of imposition. But just in case he wasn’t sure, just in case you hadn’t won him over, you threw one last piece of information his way. “Oh, and there’s chocolate chip cookies over there.”

Bucky was almost overwhelmed. He took in the beautiful spread and gave the cookies a long glance; it was almost too much. “Woah, you weren’t kidding…” He gave a small laugh, “this is a lot of food.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know how to cook for one.”

With that, you handed Bucky a plate and let him go to town. He filled his dish with chicken, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts. But the look on his face signaled more relief than joy, more solace than happiness. You wondered how long he’d been without food, how long he’d worried about where his next meal would come from. As he stood over those plastic containers, that anxiety vanished- for the most part.

A debate raged inside of Bucky’s head. He was famished, literally starving. And you’d given him full access to a massive meal. But he didn’t want to overdo it. He knew he shouldn’t empty your Tupperware and leave you with nothing; he just he didn’t know when he’d eat again. And he could practically feel his body digesting itself.

Before he could tighten the reigns, though, you spoke up. “Seriously, Buck, don’t be shy. I can’t finish all of this- it’ll just go bad.”

He nearly broke down. For so long, he knew only wanting, only appetite, only emptiness. And you offered him a respite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in…” Once again, his pause was too long; it crushed you. “Anyway, I really appreciate this.” He pulled his gaze from the food and gave you a long look filled with admiration. “And I’m impressed- I didn’t know you were such a culinary talent. I distinctly remember you burning ramen noodles to a blackened crisp more than once.”

The laugh that erupted from your chest filled the kitchen, “Well, I distinctly remember you eating my disgusting ramen without hesitation.”

Back when things were good between you and Bucky, you’d always volunteer to make dinner. Between strategy sessions and long, complicated meetings, the team simply forgot to eat. But you knew they needed nourishment to make defeating Thanos a realistic option. No one, however, wanted your charred ramen. Except for Bucky. He always accepted your offerings with a kind smile and a mountain of appreciation. He was grateful, no matter how awful it tasted, because it came from you.

“My therapist actually suggested I get into cooking,” you told Bucky as he popped his plate in the microwave. “I was really depressed and stopped caring about eating or taking care of myself. It felt pointless. But she told me some people find comfort in cooking. It’s almost meditative, you know? And if you focus on the recipe, you can’t think about all the um, the painful stuff.”

Bucky knew he was ‘the painful stuff’.

“There was a bit of a learning curve, but now,” you shrugged, “I love it.”

“Oh, wow, that awesome. So you get some peace and a delicious meal? Sounds like a good deal.” He mulled it over, wishing he had a kitchen into which he could retreat. But the motels only ever had a microwave, and most of the time, it didn’t work.

“I had a therapist- well, a court appointed therapist,” he said, “she was the worst.”

You sighed. Why were things always so hard for him? Why did people treat him so terribly?

“What was so terrible about her?”

“Honestly, I think she hated me,” defeat coated his words. “She was mean- I know that sounds childish, but I mean, the things she said were biting. They hurt. And she did it on purpose. I left every session feeling worse.” He thought back on his sessions with Dr. Raynor, on how she broke him down piece by piece until he was only a pile of ash. “She said I wasn’t a victim, and that I needed to take responsibly for the things I did and the choices I made.”

Anger surged inside your chest, “The choices you made?”

He nodded. “She was actually so terrible that I thought she worked for Hydra. I thought they were trying to get me back and that she was working undercover with them to manipulate me.” A small laugh broke free from his chest, “But she wasn’t. She’s just an asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck…” You couldn’t imagine anyone being so awful, so hateful, toward Bucky. He was kind and warm. He showed people compassion and understanding. Why the world didn’t show him the same baffled you. “I hope you don’t see her anymore.”

He removed his plate from the microwave, “Oh, I don’t.”

You sighed with relief, but it was a short-lived respite.

“I couldn’t afford to.”

He dove into his food before you could even usher him to the table. Between huge bites of potatoes and chicken, he praised your cooking. He swore on his life that this was some of the best food he’d ever had. It warmed your heart for a brief moment, but reality put a stop to the fuzzy feeling. Sure, you were a good cook. But you were certain than Bucky’s gushing compliments were the product of his empty stomach. He couldn’t even determine how long it had been since his last meal; of course, he was going to inhale his food with gusto and deem it ‘the best’.

It gnawed at you to see him like this. He laughed as you guided him to the table and settled into the seat across from him, but you didn’t match his lighthearted energy. He’d been struggling, suffering in silence without knowing where he’d get his next meal. For decades, Bucky knew nothing but pain. He was tortured, abused, treated like an animal. Hydra infected him like a parasite and devoured him from the inside out. They saddled him with PTSD and enough demons to fill even the deepest pits of hell. And after all that, life refused to give him a break. It killed you.

“I thought- correct me if I’m wrong, but- I thought court appointed therapy was paid for...”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Bucky said with a mouth full of brussels sprouts. “It depends on the situation”. He threw a shrug your way and speared a piece of chicken with his fork, but a thought stopped him from shoveling it into his mouth. “Even if my appointments were supposed to be covered, I don’t think anyone wanted to give me anything for free.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Only the sound of Bucky’s fork scraping his plate interrupted the blanket of quiet. But the stillness made him squirm. Suddenly, he piped up.

“So, I did the required amount of sessions with that therapist and promised myself I’d never go back. It was tough, but I made it work. I scraped by.” His gaze took on a hollow quality, “That’s when I started staying in the really shitty places. The ones with asbestos and mold. And there was this one place where the sheets were stained with what looked like blood.” He grimaced, “I haven’t been back there.”

You forced a laugh, “Good call.”

Bucky shifted his focus back to his plate; he’d sprinted through his meal, leaving only a few bites remaining. The flicker of a frown ghosted across his face. The food was gone too soon, replaced by an empty plate. He was tired of everything in his life being empty- his bank account, his stomach, his heart. But he didn’t dare let himself wallow in self-pity with you sitting mere inches away. Instead, he overcorrected with a large smile, hoping you hadn’t noticed the look of disappointment he wore just moments earlier. He’d rather die than appear ungrateful, even if his hunger pangs had already returned.

“You can help yourself to seconds, there’s more than enough,” you took a look at the containers still sitting on the counter. Even after he’d piled his plate high, not a dent was made. “You can have thirds, fourths- I don’t care.”

Bucky shook his head as he cleaned his plate, “No, that’s alright. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

It was an egregious lie; maybe the worst you’d ever heard.

“Buck, I can practically hear your stomach rumbling from here.” You knew him. Even after all this time apart, you knew him. You knew he was still hungry, especially after having gone so long without eating. His metabolism burned through fuel at a massively accelerated pace; he needed the calories. “Please, have some more.”

Once again, he shook his head. “I’m okay, really,” he gave you a smile. “Plus, I don’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

His words struck you in a strange way. Bucky never used to worry about your perception of him. And you never thought twice about how he saw you. There was a mutual respect and sense of comfort that didn’t fall victim to judgement. You accepted each other without hesitation. But Bucky couldn’t find his sense of security. He shifted in his seat and averted his eyes every so often, fearful of your inner monologue.

“Why are you so worried about what I think?”

Confusion lifted Bucky’s brow, “what do you mean?”

“You just said that you don’t want me to think you’re a freeloader. And in the car earlier, you said you didn’t reach out and ask me for help because you care about what I think.” You shrugged, “I just want to know why my opinion matters so much to you.”

“Because you’re my friend,” his tone was sure, steadfast. “I’ve always cared about your opinion.”

“Yeah,” hearing him call you his friend eased some of the tension in your neck. “And I care about what you think of me, too, but- I was never worried about it.” A sudden thought popped into your head, “I mean, I’ve been worrying about it lately, cause it kinda seemed like you hated my guts for a while there, but…”

Bucky stared down at his empty plate. He didn’t want you pulling at this thread, didn’t want you unraveling his thought process. He prayed you’d drop the whole thing and move on.

You didn’t.

“Sam’s your friend, too. Don’t you care what he thinks?” You feared coming on too strong, but you needed answers. “He knows about what you’ve been going through. You let him help you. You didn’t-” you stopped yourself.

Bucky gave you an expectant look, “I didn’t what?”

“You didn’t cut him off.”

Bucky’s face fell. You never meant to hurt him, to make him feel bad about pushing you away. No matter how badly he hurt you, you’d never throw it in his face- especially after you learned why he did it.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, don’t apologize,” a sad smile crossed his face. “You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He planned on having this conversation with you someday, months from now. He didn’t have his script organized, didn’t know how to best express what he was feeling. Worry encapsulated him. What if he misspoke? What if he messed things up even worse?

“Things with Sam are different. He and I became friends because of Steve. We promised him we’d look out for each other.”

It sounded all too familiar. “You and I promised each other the same thing…” It was a pinky promise made on the living room floor of the compound. In the middle of the night, by the light of the fireplace, you swore to be there for one another come hell or high water. Never did you even consider breaking that covenant, that bond. You upheld your end of the bargain without issue. But Bucky fell short.

He thought about that promise every night, berating himself for breaking it until he fell asleep.

He sighed, “I know we did, but- that’s not the same thing. You and I became friends when everything fell apart. The entire universe was in chaos, everyone’s lives imploded.” He dragged his gaze downward, “You and I were on an even playing field back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then, we were equals,” a faint smile flickered on his lips at the thought of those days he spent with you. They were dark, sure, but he remembered them fondly. Those were the days when he never left your side, the days when we woke up and fell asleep next to you. His favorite days. “We slept on the floor at the compound. We lived off ramen and red bull and worked around the clock to try and figure out how bring everyone back. We struggled. Together. But now…” He looked around your beautiful kitchen, “everything is okay again, and everyone has gone back to their lives. You’re doing well- really well. And I’m stillstruggling. I’m in almost the exact same position as I was back then.”

Words formed a traffic jam in your throat. Each new idea of how to comfort Bucky seemed too sappy, too corny. Just as a new phrase tried to exit your lips, you swallowed it. How were you supposed to make him feel better? How were you going to make any of this okay?

Bucky knew you were at a loss. He could see your desperate attempts to come up with a fix-it phrase for his situation, a way to assuage the way he felt. All you ever wanted was to make him feel better. “You have this great apartment and you’re working for SWORD. You found your way out. Meanwhile, I’m scrounging together any cash I can find to pay for a few nights in a rat-infested motel. Or I’m sleeping in the park- and getting arrested for it.”

He was going through a hard time- a really hard time. His life was in shambles and a new hardship greeted him at every turn. But you couldn’t make sense of his departure from your life. If anything, he should’ve grown closer to you, shouldn’t he? He should’ve leaned on you, asked you for help, sought comfort in your arms.

“I guess I’m just- does that automatically mean we can’t be friends?”

Bucky’s humiliation piled on top of itself. It grew with each breath, with each passing moment. Admitting just how destitute he was, how utterly lacking- it destroyed him. “No, but- who wants to be friends with that guy? Who wants to hang out with the guy who can’t figure his shit out?” A strange mixture of frustration and melancholy dripped from his words. “I have nothing. And I’m just not- I can’t be your friend yet.”

His words hit you like a train. “We were already friends; you were my closest friend-”

“We were rock bottom friends,” his voice was low, hollow. “We were wartime friends.” It came out almost as a recitation, as thought this was something he told himself to justify his actions.

You swore he made up that phrase right there in your kitchen. It seemed more like an excuse than an explanation. “What does that even mean?”

“A wartime friend, it’s- it’s the person you cling to when the world implodes. The person you’d never actually be friends with in real life, but you lean on them when life falls apart because they’re just- they’re there.”

The day you two met, Bucky found you crying in a supply closet at the compound. You were at the end of your rope, heartbroken over the loss of friends and family. Never had you experienced such an earth-shattering loss. You had no one- nothing. But Bucky was there for you. For a moment, you weren’t alone. You had someone. And he quickly became your favorite someone.

“People get desperate during wartime, you know?” Bucky continued, “They’ll befriend anyone if it brings them even a sliver of peace or comfort.”

“So, you thought-”

“I thought for sure that’s what you were doing.”

Bucky stood from his chair. Anxiety ate away at him from the inside, leaving him unable to sit any longer. “I mean, you knew who I was. You knew I was a mentally ill, train wreck of a person. I figured we’d buddy up until the clouds parted- since neither of us had any other options- and then when things when back to normal, you’d find your real friends.”

He considered himself a consolation prize, a leftover. He didn’t know that, from the very beginning, you considered him a ‘real’ friend.

“But after knowing you for a few days, I wasn’t okay with that anymore,” his words came out hurried, almost frantic. “I wanted to be friends with you for real. I wanted you to want me around after we fixed everything. But I knew there was no way you’d want me as a friend outside of the shitstorm.”

The realization played out across his face in real time. You watched happiness turn to disappointment, to despair, to desperation.

“So, I just resigned myself to enjoy our time while it lasted. I knew it was all the friendship I could ever hope to get from you-” A shy smile pulled at his lips, “though, I was lucky to be close to you for any measure of time.”

The smile faded, “but then when it was all over, and things went back to normal, you kept reaching out. You kept trying to get in touch with me and I- I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t make sense of it-”

You gave a small shake of your head, “I missed you. I needed you. I just wanted to see you…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to react. I panicked.” The nervous energy left Bucky’s buddy all at once. He slid into his chair and let his spine rest heavy against the wood. A sense of dejection befell him like and angry, icy sleet. “I didn’t want you to see me struggle in real life. I didn’t want you to see how much my actual life resembled the disaster we’d been living in. Cause when you look at my situation in the cold light of day it’s…” he swallowed the urge to hide from his humiliation. “It’s ugly. There’s no romanticizing what I’m dealing with.”

“I know you’re going through a lot right now.” For the first time in almost a year, you reached across the table for his hand. And for the first time in almost a year, he let you. “But Buck, you are not the only person struggling. I know it feels that way, but there are still so many people trying to get their lives on track after the blip- I’m still trying to get my head right. No one has a perfect life.”

Bucky gave a gentle scoff, “I know, but yours is a lot closer to perfect than mine.”

Again, you found yourself at a loss. No pep talk, no encouraging words, could make Bucky feel better about his situation. And nothing you could say had the power to fix how he felt about the state of his life. Instead of speaking, you opted to wrap his hand in both of yours the way you used to. You only hoped it would comfort him like the old days.

After a while, Bucky spoke again, “I just wanted to get my life together before I saw you again. You know? Cause my situation right now is embarrassing. I was afraid to admit the truth of my reality.”

You nodded, “And that’s why-”

“That’s why I was so weird when we ran into each other the other day,” he confirmed. He cringed at the way he acted, the way he treated you. It was all wrong. “I knew you saw me leave the motel. I knew I couldn’t pay for a meal at that diner. I was afraid that, as we spent more time together, you’d put the puzzle pieces in place and figure out that I’m a mess.”

His sense of frantic desperation reclaimed him all at once. He leaned forward and captured your hands in his own as his gaze bore into yours. “I never wanted to cut you out of my life- you have to know that. I need you to know that.”

Tears formed along your lash line, creating a haze around your vision. “I know.”

“I just needed time,” he said. “I needed time to prove that I’m not a loser, that I’m good enough- I just wanted to be good enough for you.”

“Buck, you didn’t have to prove anything to me. And what do you mean you needed to be good enough? I’ve only ever wanted you to be yourself...” It was the most certain, the surest you’d ever been of anything. Bucky was exactly enough. He was himself, and that was all you could ever ask.

“And hey, I bailed you out of jail tonight without having any idea what you did- I didn’t even ask. I didn’t care. I was going to be there for you, regardless. Because I care about you.”

The storm clouds in his eyes parted. He hadn’t even thought about that, about how you paid for his release without context. If ever he doubted how you felt about him, that gesture was enough to set him straight.

He bowed his head a moment, thanking his lucky stars for your gracious nature. “I know you care about me. And I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that- I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know what to do…”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled.

Bucky freed your hands for a moment, allowing you to wipe the tears flowing down your cheeks. He recaptured them as soon as he could, even if your knuckles were still damp.

“Well, it’s not okay- like, don’t do it again,” you joked. “But I understand now why you felt the way you felt. And you understand that I want you in my life, full stop. Right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I get that now.”

With the deepest sigh of relief you could muster, you banished the feeling of abandonment Bucky with which Bucky saddled you. You shed your fears, your worries. The deep pit that formed in your stomach all those months ago closed, the prickling anxiety in your chest faded away. And for the first time in long time, you breathed easy.

“Just so you know- and I don’t wanna hear any complaints or refusals on this-” you gave Bucky a look, prompting him to nod in agreement. “You have to have at least one more plate of food.”

A rebuttal brewed beneath Bucky’s surface, his fear of imposing rearing its ugly head. He’d already called in a massive favor, had you pay his bail, used your shower, and eaten your food. The anxiety of overstepping vibrated inside his skull. But he kept his promise and nodded in agreement.

“And-”

“And?” he gave you an exasperated look.

You gave a firm nod, “Yes, there’s an ‘and’!”

Bucky sighed out a tired laugh, “What more could there be?” A sudden darkness eclipsed his expression. His smile fell, his laugh halted. Anxiety had him by the throat. His snaked his hands away from yours and tightened them into tight fists. “I already feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“You’re not. I promise.” All at once, you were fed up with sitting across from him. You needed to be closer, as close as possible. Bucky needed to feel your sincerity, to hear your words loud and clear. In a flash, you gave up your seat across the table for the one right next to him. “You can’t impose or take advantage- not here. Because…”

Bucky eyed you with a nervous glance, “because?”

“Because… you live here now!” A victorious laugh fluttered out of your throat, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Shock overtook Bucky’s expression. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His heart raced, his hand shook. All color drained from his face. “No, I can’t- that’s too nice…” He stared at you, “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Dead serious. This is your home now, too.” Suddenly, you felt the need to clarify. “But only if you want. This isn’t like, a hostage situation or anything.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a loud laugh that nearly brought tears to your eyes. He hadn’t felt this carefree, this at peace, in a very long time. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed this way.

“Well, that is a relief,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d love to live here with you, I’d be- I’m so…” Suddenly, his hands found yours. He squeezed your fingers until your pulse throbbed against your skin. His anxiety practically seeped into your bones. “But I swear, I’m not gonna stop looking for a job or trying to get my benefits. I promise. I’m not gonna sit around like a deadbeat and mooch off you-”

“Buck, don’t worry about that right now, okay?”

He shook his head, “And I won’t stay here too long, I’ll-”

“Hey,” With great effort, you pulled your hands from his and places your palms against his cheeks. “There’s no move out date. There’s no ticking clock. You’re allowed to live here as long as you want- I want you here.” You shot him a smile, “Plus, I’ve missed you- a lot. So this arrangement is good for me, too.”

A swirling cloud of worry hovered above Bucky’s head. He was overwhelmed, you could tell. He tensed his jaw, his shoulders. His every muscle went rigid. “But are you sure? This is generous- it’s too generous.”

“I’m sure. Here-” You stood from your chair and gestured for him to do the same, “I thought you might need this.”

With that, you enveloped him in a tight hug. Back at the compound, a hug from you could solve any and every problem for Bucky. And his embrace did the same for you. There was something so warm, so welcoming about the arms of the other. It was salvation, it was solace. It was home. Without a place to live, Bucky could survive. But without you, without his home, he’d been lost. As he wrapped his arms around you, though, his entire world changed. And the severed soul tie you feared would never heal grew back once again, stronger than ever.

-----------------------------------------

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

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thesensteawitch · 6 months

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The Remaining 2023 Vibe Check!🌲❄️⚡

What's coming for you?

🍂Pick A Pile Reading🍂

(Left to Right--- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!🍁

Thank you everyone for staying and waiting for my next blog. I promise I won't make you wait for a whole week. I was busy taking care of my health. Thanks for your patience, beautiful souls🩷.

This reading is about the rest of your 2023. It's a collective reading. Take a deep breath and read🌻.

Pile 1

The emperor, the chariot, ace of wands, the hierophant, page of swords, 2 of swords.

Hello, my dear pile 1. Firstly I want to ask how have you been. I see that something quite challenging for you (but you were okay with it) came to an end. Maybe your human side was okay with it but not your soul. The mind kept finding a rational reason for your pain. But being in that certain situation/job/relationship you had to pay a price. It cost you your peace. Whatever happened did not happen for no reason. It happened to teach you something. Now you must be thinking, “Well, isn't it obvious?” Yeah, but darling you forgot that there are thorns on the way to the garden of roses.

Currently, you aren't able to get a closure and you won't be able to for some time. But as the year approaches its end your eyes will be opened. Some of you may experience your 3rd eye-opening. You will see the divine reason for why something ended so abruptly when you weren't ready. Or why anything even happens in this world? You'll gain some clarity regarding the purpose of your existence, your destiny, and who you truly are. Some of you may develop some strong philosophical views. Just know one thing pile 1 that what happened has ignited a spark within your soul. The light within you will burn again which was diminished months or in fact years ago. Currently, you are confused. Some of you are being rigid. I see polarities. Sometimes you will think too rationally and brutally. Sometimes you'll become philosophical. But in the end, you'll find your balance. And will finally carry your wounds as the mark of your wisdom. Your wounds will become a roadmap to your destiny.

I hear, “Blindsided, addicted. Thought we could really do this but really I was foolish...Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes. Some mistakes get made that's all right that's okay, in the end, it's better for me that's the moral of the story babe.” For some of you, it's related to someone and for some, it's about something very dear to you.

Only you can come out of the mental war you are going through. Only you can remove the blindfold and finally see the things as they truly are. Get out of your head! Seriously! Our mind can only go so far. It repeats the narratives it has seen. Truth comes from the divine. Surrender. Surrender to the divine/God/source/universe or whatever power you believe in. Writing down your emotions will definitely help you. You need to ground yourself. Start with grounding and soon you'll find your answers. You can just sit on the grass or walk barefoot on the grass. It will tremendously help you within a few minutes. I am not kidding. I do it. It will help balance your root chakra. You will find some stability.

Start planning how you truly want your life to be. It will help you in giving a vision. Because I see that all you need is an answer, a closure, a truth about life. If you do what I said then by the end of this year you'll finally be able to move forward with all bitter-sweet moments. You will have control of your life and not someone or something else has control over your life. Let nobody control you. Be it your mind, a desire, or a person. I also see that some of you are afraid to dream big. First dream like crazy and then make a plan. See how you can achieve whatever you want to achieve. And how can you be authentic in what you want to have in your life? Then make a plan and believe that it can happen to you. Remember the great examples in our history. If they can so can you. But don't end up comparing a fish to a monkey, you know what I mean right? You will be realising your worth by the end of 2023. You'll get the clarity that you are not able to get until now.

You need both magic and practicality. Remember to write 10 things about you that you know are wonderful. Also, forgive others and most importantly forgive yourself. Release the grudges and the negativity will be released. YOU ARE DIVINELY PROTECTED NO MATTER IF YOU BELIEVE IN ANGELS OR NOT. I also hear, “I don't know how to feel but I wanna try. I don't know how to feel but someday I might.” Oh God, you guys! Just watch BARBIE. And observe Ken. You'll learn a lot from him. Please do watch Barbie. And if you already have then watch again you might notice something that you didn't before. God bless you, pile 1. I also see a power struggle. You don't feel powerful. But you soon will. All this is happening to bring your power back.

If you want me to tap into YOUR ENERGY and give you specific details then do book a YEAR END READING with me. Just drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. (ONLY @ $11!)

Pile 2

King of pentacles, ace of wands, 10 of swords, knight of swords, 6 of wands, 5 of wands

Wow! My dear pile 2. First of all good job. I am so proud of you that you have finally decided something your guides have been whispering to you. Maybe life forced you to take a stand or you contemplated a lot. But one thing is clear you realised that the situation you were in was not favorable for you. You thought it would turn out to be something amazing but it did not. It definitely broke your heart. Currently, I see that you are trying to show strength in the face of adversity. It's good. You should keep doing that. But let me tell you my dear pile 2 that whatever tough situation you're in it's coming to an end. Very very soon. In a month you'll see yourself coming out of it. Finally, you are trying to stand up for yourself and your values. For once, you will not need anyone else's permission or approval. Beautiful! I see financial upgradation is definitely coming up for you. All the mental struggle and health struggle is coming to an end!!!!! Some of you can somewhat feel it. You may not have achieved your goal and you surely are not at the destination. But definitely, some progress is being made. Something has shifted. You're not in between. You're almost there. What you do in these coming weeks will define your years to come. Believe me when I say this. You know your goal, your destination. You're not naive. You're not unaware. You just fall into the temptations of instant gratification. And I see it all happens due to ‘what ifs’. New ideas will be coming to you. Soon you will be seeing competition as cooperation. People will praise your ideas and your work. And it will be huge! As you have just stood up from the ashes, it's still all over your body so the nostalgia might hit you. I hear the song, “What a time”. I feel this year has taught you a lot. But now you finally see your goal. You've made all the wrong decisions so now there's only the right way. What I mean by this is that you have exhausted all your options. Now there's only one way. Follow your destiny. You have been on the wrong roads so many times but the good thing is that you've learned. You have grown.

“We both have demons that we can't stand. Maybe you're seeking an honest man.” I feel that for some of you, your relationship played a huge role in your transformation. I also hear, “There may be lovers who hold out their hands but they will never love you like I can,” you knew how to give pile 2. You are a giver. Some of you may even be healers.

Now you're on your own. You always have been. But now you're not in a toxic cycle of codependency. And if some of you are still struggling with codependency then know soon it will be over. I hear December will be an abundant month for you. You are going to be the warmth that people would need in the cold winters. Some of you are so creative. I also hear, “I had the best time falling into love...” and now I feel you are choosing to stay single for some time. I feel it's good for you. Your soul needs this. I also see that some of you feel that you don't have enough knowledge about something but I see you do. Don't compare yourself to anybody online. There will always be someone better. But you don't need to fall for this trap of being above everyone else. You will finally take in the essence of understanding that the human race is dependent on each other and it helps each other directly or indirectly in each individual's growth. For the remaining months of 2023, your eyes will be on your vision. Nothing else! I literally am enjoying reading this pile. My heart is jumping. You are going to be blessed and divinely protected. I also sense that you always have been protected by the divine.

Aahh pile 2 I also see that this coming eclipse is going to play a major role in your life. It will bring a powerful change. This change is going to put you on your destined path. A new beginning is coming. If you guys have been wishing for something then know that it can come true. Please let go of your fear around finances. It's creating a blockage. I think you will be able to do that soon. Still, let me guide you on how to do it. You need to believe that you can have all the luxuries of the world. Keep doing things with your heart. Put a part of your soul in the work that you do and you will see financial abundance following you. Create things with pain, pleasure, purity, and peace. Keep the balance. Virtue lies in the middle. YOU GUYS ARE FOLLOWING YOUR DESTINY. Please keep going and not even for a moment lose hope. Focus on RELEASING the negativity and not listening to it. God bless you, pile 2! I am so so so happy for you. The external growth does depend on you and it is yet to come but I can't help but be proud of the internal growth that has happened to you and still, there's potential for more growth. Wow! The road is finally clear for you. It's your time to shine. Congratulations! Let me know what happens.

If you want me to tap into YOUR ENERGY and give you specific details then do book a YEAR END READING with me. Just drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. (ONLY @ $11!)

Pile 3

Two of wands, the emperor, two of pentacles, king of pentacles, queen of pentacles, the empress

Hello, my dear pile 3. It took me time to pull out your Oracle cards. Now I see why. So tell me why are you not taking action? I mean I see that when you are about to there's a part of you that makes you feel that you aren't ready. But guess what? You'll never be ready. No one is ready to start something. Knowing something you're planning to start is important but there's no end to learning. Then when will you be really ready if you measure your worth like that? You are afraid to execute your plan. For a long time, you have been planning and plotting but when it comes to taking action there's a huge resistance. If you are afraid that you won't be able to achieve your goals then let me tell you pile 3 that huge abundance is waiting for you to taste it. I can sense your soul suffering but this rigid mind and reasoning of yours has kept you in one place for so long.

The universe is going to put you off balance no matter how strong are the walls around you. Something is going to put you off balance and I am not saying this to instill fear in you. No concrete remains in front of God's will. Huge abundance waits for you. It's you who is coming in your way. So what if you're going to hit your goal in 6 months or a year? At least start or you'll never get closer to your dreams. Pile 3 do not even think of giving up! You do have a long way to go but to reach somewhere you need to leave a certain place and situation. By all means, explore. And who said that only the destination is supposed to be beautiful? It's the journey that matters. You are going to meet some really amazing people who will be helping you with your plan. Somebody is definitely going to help you soon.

When you're finally ready to overcome this resistance you will feel like your life is a mess. Believe me, this chaos will bring order. Currently, I see that your life is stagnant. I hear you saying to your resistance, “I like me better when I am with you.” It's so difficult to change your mindset pile 3. Stop weighing the outcomes rather than start creating. You have the capability to create a wonderful life for yourself. It's in your cards I am not saying this casually. Not all lessons are learned through books some are learned by experiencing the real world. The only way to fight any kind of resistance is to do the thing it is stopping you from doing. In the coming few weeks life is going to break something on you so that you have no choice but to move forward through the chaos that you are afraid to face. Believe me, pile 3 your life is going to turn out to be so beautiful. You'll love it. You might see a glimpse of it in December if you win over your fears.

Everything is concrete around you there's no oxygen and you have no pulse. It seems you have stopped watering your garden. No trees, no water? No oxygen! YOU HAVE THE KEY TO UNLOCK THE NEW OPPORTUNITIES. The vision you have is the key to your growth. Please don't be in your head all the time. In the times of challenges that you might face ahead please be playful. Don't be so serious all the time pile 3. Laugh a little. Let the day take you. You don't need to keep planning. Take breaks. Take rest. But do not be afraid to put in effort for your dreams. These coming months you'll be learning something that very few people know or take interest in. That's how you'll be able to create financial abundance. Knowledge will be served to you. If you feel lack in any aspect then the holes will be filled in by the universe. But first, you must take action. “The more that you say the less I know. Wherever you stray I follow. I am begging for you to take my hands and wreck my plans that's my man.” The universe is literally coming through and saying to take a leap of faith. Take its hands and wreck its plan of bringing turbulence into your life. “Know that my train can take you home anywhere else is hollow.” Home doesn't hamper your growth. Comfort does.

If you want me to tap into YOUR ENERGY and give you specific details then do book a YEAR END READING with me. Just drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. (ONLY @ $11!)

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arsonkoobi · 1 year

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taekooker to jikooker: my personal experience.

this is merely how i felt and all the things i saw while being a hardcore taekooker for almost a year and a half. if you get offended, im sorry but the unfollow and block button is right there, i dont mind. i love taekook themselves, but i can no longer look at them in the way i used to. now they genuinely look like best friends to me. people change, and their perceptions and views on different aspects of life change. thats what happened to me.

I first joined this fandom 5 years ago in mid january 2018 through my friends. taehyung was my first ever bias, so most of the bts related yt recs i had were mostly of taehyung and ot7, and occasional ship videos among which taekook was the most prominent. me being a curious lil unsuspecting lamb, clicked on one, it also helped that my friends were taekookers as well so i dived pretty deep into the rabbit hole of taekook. im gonna be writing my thoughts and experiences on shipping taekook at different times of the year. i dont remember every single detail clearly (like this was 5 years ago) so forgive me if i sound vague at times plus this will only be a summary. without further ado, lets start, shall we?

february-march, 2018

by this time, i already watched quite a few taekook analysis videos, i also came across a few tkk_lives' videos(i think i came across her vids like much later but i just included it here) as well as other deluded channels. i fell even deeper into the rabbit hole. i thought taekook were the epitome of boyfriends silly in love, i felt like they had the best chemistry and that they were the ones whose ship actually made sense. i feel so embarrassed to admit this but one of my rather major reasons for shipping them was how good they looked tgthr🤦‍♀️(im a changed person now i promise). now i realise many tkk analysis channels tend to heavily edit things to make it look like theres something going on, overanalysing things to no end, it made me see them as if they were closer than they actually are, and as if theyre hiding something, but it was really just heavy and clever editing that forces your mind to get convinced. it was quite literally manipulative. plus back then, i was rather immature and hadnt even been in a rltnshp yet, so i blindly believed whatever they said. i believed every narrative and every theory they put out even if i knew lots of them didnt even make sense. they constantly also put out the jealous jungkook/taehyung whenever the other breathes next to another member..as i now realise, thats one of the biggest toxic traits a person can have. they were always pushing tkk as a toxic relationship without even knowing it(or just ignoring it). i also do not like jikook analysis vids where they are portrayed as the same territorial mfs who cant stand the other interacting with anyone else but himself. bc thats literally pushing their relationship as a toxic one and making them look toxic, and i would rather not do that.

march/april-september, 2018

i only watched taekook vids and funny bts moments for a long while as a baby army. i didnt watch official content very much, i ddint even know how to watch official content..i didnt know bangtantv existed yet💀 this tkk analysis watching continued for around 4 or so months after i became an army before i took an unintentional break from them(analysis vids) and i went on twitter. twitter, was so much worse(as i now realise). i didnt have an account at that time and learnt to browse on twt without one(it doesnt really let you do that anymore). at first, i found nothing weird or unusual and i enjoyed lurking on twitter, but slowly i started to see the ugly side of the community. i found multiple accounts directly or indirectly hating on jimin. i was weirded out. very weirded out. i was quite conflicted but..i only thought of it as jimin haters who were coincidentally tkkrs, maybe i refused to see tkk shippers in a bad light? probably, unfortunately i cant remember much and as i said, i was immature.

october-december, 2018

i stumbled across gcf in tokyo somewhere in october, i think it was in a fanwar on twitter and a jkkr said "at least we have this" or sumn along that line and put a link to gcft . idek how i didnt see it earlier. immediately after watching it, i felt..weird, conflicted, insecure. insecure about my ship. it seemed so romantic to me even then. but ofc i didnt let myself give up immediately, and i searched interviews + info about it, i found tkkrs saying vminkook were supposed to go tgthr and jikook only went bc they had a few days off and tae didnt. that gave me a lil bit of security and i held onto that thread of security and refused to believe or even hear out the actual fact(which i will come to later). as you can see, i was a stubborn mf. inside i knew that even if tae not having time off was the "only" reason behind jikook's japan trip, it was still unusual and suspicious to go on a trip with only your "bro" when said "bro" has told you and the world multiple times that they wanna go on a trip alone with you, when the hotel room you're staying at with your "bro" has a see-through glass wall for the bathroom and when you make a whole love confession in the guise of a travel log for your "bro" while your boyfie is waiting for you at home.

in conclusion, i was very insecure.

did i give up? no, not yet. we're getting there.

so as a masochist and out of curiosity caused by insecurity, i searched up jikook videos on yt, thinking "there's no way they could ever have more chemistry than taekook 🙄" - when i tell you i was wrong as fuck, i mean it. i was HUMBLED. the chemistry and tension between jungkook and jimin was undeniable. i felt uncomfortable watching some certain moments, felt things that i didnt feel while shipping taekook, saw things i didnt see in taekook.

i was confused plus the sinking feeling you get when you've been too loud about what you think and your opinions but then it turns out you were a stupid ass bitch.

there was a plethora of jikook vids, and i think my first jikook video was from Made in Busan, ig it was the "serendipity" analysis? back then it made lots of sense to me, but now it looks slightly overanalyzed (i still believe "serendipity" is very much connected to jikook tho). i slowly got more introduced to jikook in general. this mainly occured in like the first week of october and december as i had my boards in november.

december/january-february, 2019

so its been more or less of a year since ive become a tkkr, gcft is still in the back of my head screaming at me. and then jikook drop another bomb. that is, 2018 MMA.

this..was just, just..i cant explain it in words. jungkook had every bit of his attention directed towards jimin, they were giving each other loving glances, jimin giving jungkook a flying kiss, jungkook giving jimin a finger heart, jungkook subconsciously massaging jimins nape..it was just so domestic and coupley. i've never third wheeled so bad in my life. i felt like i was interrupting something by watching them. imagine how hyunjae next to them felt😔✊not to mention how it very much looked like jungkook was saying "남편"[ nampyeon] meaning "husband" and "형의 남친"[ hyung-ui namchin ] meaning " hyung's boyfriend" in their conversation after jimin pointed to himself and jungkook (forgive me if the spellings/romanizations are not accurate enough, im not fully fluent in korean). plus, after jungkook said it, jimin smiles and shyly looks down..LIKE??

youtube

watch from 31:00 to see for yourself. im not kidding.(p.s i love this video so much)

i was bamboozled. i was shocked. i was frustrated. i was feeling stupid. i was begging for taekook to drop something mindblowing or sumn that would regain my secuity in the ship and i found some moments during other award shows but, it didnt feel the same. to me it was really looking like taekook had boundaries and limits between each other, the limits that apply when you're good friends. but with jikook, i couldnt see how their gazes towards each other could be passed off as anything platonic, how their actions+body language could ever be seen as platonic.

so what did i do? did i give up? oh hell no im stubborn as fuck. but we're getting there.

i ignored every jikook moment and brought my focus back on taekook, i started watching analysis and moments again. in a span of a few weeks, the security around my ship had improved after pretending that i didnt feel like a stupid mf after MMA 2018. haha. it sorta worked lol. sorta.

march-may, 2019

these were my last months as a taekooker.

after all that shit, all i wanted was more taekook moments to make me feel better about myself. and i did get quite a few. however, as i said before, they looked like they had boundaries. i couldnt look at them exactly the same.

i was busy in april with my class tests, i doubt i had much time to catch up with the boys. so when the tests ended, it was most likely in the last week of april or the first few days of may.

we all know what happened in the first few days of may, don't we? in case you don't, this is what happened.

surprisingly, i clearly remember the first time i got to know about it.

it was in class, i just arrived and then one of my friends and i start talking and she goes [this convo is all translated from bengali]

"hey did you see what jungkook did at the latest concert?"

"no, i didn’t, what did he do?"

"he went and literally sucked on jimins ear!"

i was shocked once again, my eyes went wide, my heart did a backflip..all that shit. i didnt believe it at first.

"don't joke around like that, you're being absurd" i said.

"im not kidding bro, he sucked jimins ear in the rosebowl concert last week, ill send you a link too"

when i got back home, sure enough, the link was there and i saw jungkooks ear nibbling in all its glory, albeit a bit low quality. but no doubt he took that ear into his mouth and i knew it.

surely i must've given up now? no, but im this🤏 close we're almost there i promise

i went online and found lots of tkkrs denying that jungkook ever took jimin's ear into his mouth and that jimin's ear only got caught on jk's chin. but..if it got caught on jk's chin then that means his chin was behind jimin's ear, and his lips must have been at least kissing jimin's ear, given that we couldnt see them very well. the lip we could see was the upper lip, which again lead me to be believe that jungkook did indeed, suck jimin's ear.

yeah, my faith in tkk was crumbling into millions of pieces. because i couldnt see how jungkook, being in a supposed relationship with taehyung, could do that with tae's best friend. i sure as hell wouldnt let my partner get away with that, nor would i ever do that myself with someone else other than my partner. even if its to comfort them. it just goes way over platonic boundaries.

i was seriously considering shifting over to jikook by now. but before that, i searched lots of shit up abt jikook.

there i saw an interview where jimin talked about the tokyo trip with jungkook. what i believed until now was that vminkook were supposed to go tgthr but jikook were the ones with time off, and tae didnt have time off. jimin said he told taehyung and jungkook that he wants to go on a trip to Japan. he didnt say he wanted to go on a trip WITH taehyung and jungkook. yall, ive told my wishes to go to japan and turkey multiple times to my friends, does that mean im taking their asses with me? no. mind you, jimin has said he wanted to go on a trip alone with jungkook multiple times in their rookie era. on jimin's bday of 2017, jungkook tweeted a pic of him(jimin) with the caption "Its not over yet.." and shortly after, we find out jikook went on a tokyo trip by THEMSELVES with no staff, no managers and no other members. dropped off at the airport by jungkook's dad and brother and jimin's dad. jungkook paid for everything and put a hell lot of time into making the masterpiece that is gcf in tokyo WITH a bgm of a gay fucking song by a queer fucking artist and showed the fucking rainbow colored ferris wheel at the line "love is a road that goes both ways".

also

its clear who the main model of gcf is.

you can deny the trip being only for jikook, but you can not deny the symbolism and significance shown in gcf in tokyo. saying "jungkook didnt understand the song, hes not fluent in english" - is so small minded and belittling.

saying he didnt show jimin on the parts "boy, im holding onto something, wont let go of you for nothing, im running, running just to keep my hands on you" on purpose is not only straight up denial but also understimating jungkook's intelligence and artistic capabilities, saying that jungkook isnt smart enough to get the meaning behind these words. and just because hes korean. thats fucking racist if you ask me.

then i discovered the iconic osaka vlives, i was convinced. it was my last straw along with rosebowl.

alas, after around a week of denial, i gave up and became a jikooker in mid may of 2019. ive never looked back. over the years they've only given us more and more evidence and i doubt my beliefs will ever change soon.

i hope this was kinda fun to read, i had been planning to do this for a long time. im glad i finally got to say my thoughts out here. thank you for taking the time to read this<3

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writingonleaves · 8 months

Text

i tell you that i think i'm falling back in love with you - luca fantilli

pairing: luca fantilli x original female character

warnings: swearing, slight angst, mostly fluff, like one mention of COVID, proofread maybe once, probably too many taylor swift references

word count: 9.2k

based on: "the alcott" by the national ft. taylor swift + "this love" by taylor swift. title from "the alcott"

author's note: first one ahhh!!! had this done months ago when i saw that day in the life video the umich social team posted of luca and then promptly went on a six hour plane ride and banged this out. apologies if some of the details are inaccurate — i tried my best though some are also made purposefully to fit with the narrative

*****

Melody Lin rarely talks about it.

In the instance that it gets brought up, she just shrugs, always giving just a brief overview because there’s no point in summing up 18 years of history in a few sentences, especially when she knows if she thinks about it too much and talks about it out loud she’ll get emotional.

Growing up in the suburbs of Toronto was the typical suburban experience. She grew up only a street and a 2 minute car ride from her best friend Shayla and even though Shayla ended up going to University of Michigan and she went to Northwestern, they remained the closest of friends. Melody’s close with the whole Gallo family to the point where she just walks in and no one bats an eye anymore. Wherever Melody is, Shayla isn’t far behind, and vice versa.

Being close with the Gallo family means she’s been to almost every family gathering, every big family event. Everyone in their families knows the other because the two girls are so close that they’re pretty much sisters.

Melody doesn’t even remember the day she met Luca Fantilli.

Luca is one of Shayla’s many cousins, only two years younger than Shayla. His family lives around a 10 minute drive away, so their parents love to gather on the weekends, therefore bringing the kids close together. Age wise, it goes Shayla, then Luca two years later, then Adam and Katie, Shayla’s younger sister, are the same age. There’s other cousins, older and younger, but these four have always been close, finding themselves naturally in a group when their families get together.

That means that naturally, Melody grew up also being close with the four, coming by many weekends when the cousins gathered and being dragged into their shenanigans, from playing tag when they were kids to piling in a car to get ice cream when they were teenagers. And they loved her too. Katie loved having another older sister figure with Melody being more calm compared to Shayla. Adam loved how funny she was and how no matter how much shit they gave her, she’d brush it all off with an easy smile.

And then Luca. Like his brother and cousins, he loved how friendly she was. During the few years they overlapped in the same school, she always said hi to him in the hallways, never treating him or his brother any differently just because they were younger. When he needed a ride, whether it was to the rink or gym or that he just wanted to get out of the house, he could always text her and she would drive him, even if she gave him flack for it. And even though she started out as just Shayla’s friend, they quickly grew to have their own friendship, texting from time to time even when he was at Kimball for two years and she went off to college. He loved how giving she was and how smart she was and how no one ever really seemed to have a bad word to say about her. He’d always light up at seeing her and looked forward to the crushing hugs she would give him, especially after a few months of not seeing each other.

Those weekends are imprinted in Melody’s brain, when the Gallo house is loud and lively and all the adults are chatting and laughing and the kids are off doing whatever they want, her and Shayla always being put in charge because they’re the oldest of the five. Sometimes there were guest stars — Shayla’s high school boyfriend, Adam’s high school girlfriend, whoever the hell Luca was dating at the time, Katie and her best friend — but it was mostly just the five of them.

It was always Shay, Mel, Luca, Adam and Katie.

(If you ask Luca now, he probably fell in love with her back when they were teenagers, somewhere between when she would drive him and his brother home after a rough practice and let them rant and when she’d laugh so loudly by the pool during the summer that she’d snort)

(Melody obviously loved everything about Shayla, thought Adam was one of the sweetest boys she’s ever met and adored Katie like a younger sibling. But even from the start, she had a special place in her heart for Luca, with his infectious smile and his positive energy. Somewhere along the way, he stopped being just Shayla’s cousin)

That friendship strengthened when he and Adam signed a commitment to play with the Chicago Steel starting Melody’s sophomore year at Northwestern. Shayla was thankful that her best friend was there for her two younger cousins, though the two hockey players never needed anyone to look after them. Since Melody had a car and her and Shayla’s breaks often overlapped, Melody would grab Adam and Luca in Chicago and then drive through Ann Arbor to pick Shayla up as they all headed home. The drive wasn’t all that bad, especially with the company.

Somewhere during the start of her sophomore year, she and Luca confessed to each other that they had feelings towards each other and started dating. It started out well. Inbetween her classes and college commitments and his practices and games, they’d find time to see each other. It helped that they both had cars as well.

There was this cafe / book bar place between them called The Alcott that she had discovered by a recommendation from a friend who lived around the area that wasn’t closed because of COVID. That started to become the place for them to meet. Whether she had to drag along her laptop and notebooks or not, it started to become their place. She tried to go to as many of his games as she could and he tried to come to campus to be with her, even when she was cramming for exams and couldn’t give him much attention.

She’d feel bad during the days where she wasn’t much fun, but he didn’t care. Being in her presence was enough, he’d always say with an encouraging kiss and a promise for milkshakes after dinner as a treat before he’d have to go back to Chicago. She met his teammates and he met her college friends and they tried and tried to make it work. When the Chicago Steel won the Clark Cup, she made it a priority to go to watch the final, not having been able to go to his last regular season game and all of playoffs due to final projects and labs. At the end, she had leaned over the boards to crush Adam in a tight hug before kissing Luca sweetly.

And then two weeks after that, when summer was about to start — which should’ve been the time they would be at their best and brightest together, things started to fall apart. Though, when Melody looks back at it now, things were slowly falling apart for a bit before then. Pointed questions about what each other’s plans were for the night when they could’ve been together, weak excuses for skipping the nightly FaceTime call, just generally not as much effort from both sides.

Even throughout it all, she still deeply cared about him. That didn’t change even during their last argument that led to their break up.

“Mel, I don’t know what you want me to do at this point,” Luca says, pacing around her room and running his hair through his hair.

“I don’t ask for much,” she says, biting her lip, watching him pace and trying to keep her control. “I know hockey keeps you busy. I get it. I knew what I was signing up for. But I didn’t hear from you for a week, Luca. Not a call. Not even a good morning text. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

“I told you I was going to be busy, angel.” Even the pet name doesn’t soften her. She starts raising her voice.

“Goddammit, Luca. I know! But guess what? I’m also busy too. You think college is easy? I don’t know if I’ve slept for more than 5 hours a night this last month. But I still make the time.”

“Do you?” His eyes flash with something she’s never seen from him before. He’s not quite yelling, but he’s not talking at a normal volume either. “When’s the last time we went out to dinner? When’s the last time before the final that you came to one of my games? Jackson asked me before the final if we were still together since he hadn’t seen you. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

“Since when the fuck do you care about what anyone has to say?”

“Since all of their girlfriends are in the stands every week!”

She flinches. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to playoffs but you told me it was okay. I didn’t know you felt that way because you don’t talk to me anymore. I can’t read your mind. I’m trying my best here.”

“You know what? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” She whispers.

“This. Us. It’s clearly not working.”

“Luca.”

He sits down on the chair across from her and puts his head in his hands momentarily. “You’re right. We barely talk. We’re both so busy. The last thing I want is for you to resent me.”

“So that’s it?” She croaks out.

His eyes are watery. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, angel.”

“You’re the one making this hard!” She bites her lip and looks up to keep the tears from falling, which isn’t working because a couple tears still slip out. She fights a brief battle with herself and then deflates. “I’m always going to be your biggest supporter.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Mel.”

“I mean it. I meant it years ago when we were kids. I mean it now. I’ll mean it forever.”

He laughs hollowly. “This sucks.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Do you think we could still be friends?”

She tries to smile. “Well, I’m still best friends with your cousin and that’s not gonna change. So I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She swallows. “I need time though, if we want to be friends in the future.”

“I get it. Yeah.” He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs dejectedly. “I’m sorry too.”

“Can I get one more hug?”

The hug is already sad enough. The kiss in her hair has her crying into his chest.

It was tough that summer especially, because she still wanted to spend time with Shayla and she also knew that Shayla still wanted to see Luca. But it was still too fresh, so when she knew that Luca was coming by, she avoided going to Shayla’s, which her best friend understood. She took Adam out for ice cream a couple of times, genuinely wanting to see how he was doing and catch up and everything was good and normal as they steered away from topics that were still fresh. Except during one hug as she dropped him off, where he whispered in her ear, “I know it’s too soon. I completely get it. But I know Luca would love to see you before you head back to school.”

(She doesn’t end up seeing him)

Junior year comes and goes. She has a great time despite the hours of studying for exams and the stress of classes. She makes new friends, gets closer with her old ones, collects new memories and laughs until there’s no sound coming out of her mouth. She sometimes wakes up with a hangover, but has to trudge to the library anyway to cram for a Monday morning exam. The first time she goes to The Alcott post break-up, she tries to sit in the spot by the corner and she has to leave within 5 minutes so she doesn’t have a meltdown in public.

Shayla tells her that Luca and Adam are both officially committed to play at Michigan next year, and she’s not sure if she should text them. She ends up texting them both separately right when they post on Instagram though because she’s so happy and excited and proud of them, even if Luca isn’t hers anymore.

i heard about the good news!! congrats on umich (officially)!!

Thanks Mel!! So good to hear from you. I hope all is good at Northwestern

all’s good here! seriously, luca. i’m so proud of you.

He simply had liked the text and it was enough for the both of them. It had to be enough.

She tried her best to steer away from hearing about him, but it was really hard, especially when both him and Adam were doing so well in hockey and were the talk of the town, especially back home. They always had been, but nowadays it was more and more and it was bittersweet to hear.

She didn’t come back home for the summer of her senior year, her internship leading her to New York City. And while it was sad because she couldn’t see Shayla, who herself was doing an internship in Detroit, it gave her a bit of relief that she wasn’t going to be in her hometown when a large reason she calls it home is because of the boy who she had given her heart to. She had fun in New York, went on a couple of dates — which was the most she’s done with her romantic life since her breakup — but while her friends were living up their summers and she was cheering them on, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the younger Italian hockey player away from her mind. She hated that she couldn’t shake him off.

(You’ve been friends for almost two decades, Shayla would remind her. Of course you’re not gonna get over it quickly. There’s too much history there)

As Melody entered her senior year, she set out a goal to have fun. Work hard, of course, but also to have fun and really enjoy her last year. With parts of her college experience being interrupted by the pandemic, she felt like it was only right to give herself some time before she’d be in labs and research the rest of her life.

She still followed Luca on social media, so she saw his Snapchat stories and his Instagram posts. He looked like he was having a blast at Michigan and she honestly couldn’t have been any happier for him, even if there was always a stab of something in her heart seeing him pop up on her feed. She still drove through Ann Arbor during school breaks to pick up Shayla, and now Adam and Luca as well when they didn’t have to stay for hockey commitments. Shayla tried telling her friend that she didn’t have to, but Melody always waved her off. Luca texted her happy birthday and she did the same and she ended up crying in the shower both times.

Shayla had convinced her to come to a Michigan vs Michigan State hockey game and Melody didn’t really have an excuse, since she was gonna drive up that morning from Northwestern to go home for winter break. She had been hesitant, not wanting to overstep but Shayla had just laughed in her face. Come to Michigan, stay the night with me, and then we’ll all head back to Ontario in the morning. Shayla had even gotten Adam and Luca to text her to convince her, with Luca’s text being the final push

Heard from Shay and Adam that you were hesitant on coming to the game. If that hesitancy is because of me, please don’t let it be. It’ll be a fun one.)

The game is fun and thrilling, just like Luca promised it would be. Melody’s met some of Shayla’s college friends before and they’re no less welcoming than they always are. After the game ends, Shayla and her are walking back to her apartment when Shayla stops. Adam just texted me, she says. They’re all at one of the hockey houses and they want to meet you. Let’s stop by. Melody stills for a moment before letting Shayla lead her in the opposite direction. She knows Shayla knows some of the guys, but she’s never met any of them and she doesn’t want to make it awkward.

But that thought immediately goes away as Adam hugs her and spins her around as soon as they walk in, causing her to laugh and Shayla to pout playfully. Adam just rolls his eyes after setting Melody down. Shay, I see you all the time, he says. Melody gets on her tiptoes and kisses him quickly on the cheek, rolling her eyes as he playfully wipes it off. He leads them into the house and Melody’s thrown into a round of introductions and she’s a bit overwhelmed but she’s smiley and friendly and congratulates them all on the win. She’s immediately enraptured in a brief conversation with Nolan Moyle, Mark Estapa and Luke Hughes and she pretends to not see the other guys eyeing Luca with a knowing look.

Melody Lin rarely talks about it. She wonders how much Luca Fantilli does, especially since they all seem to know who she is.

She would be the slightest bit uncomfortable, but a majority of them are younger than her and she knows how to deal with the rowdiness of hockey boys. So weirdly enough, she feels right at home, even though it’s her first time here.

When she finally makes her way to Luca, she smiles, even if it’s a bit dimmed. She’s keenly aware of eyes on her but she tries to ignore them as she hugs him tightly, trying not to breathe in his cologne too much.

“Good game,” she mutters into his ear before pulling away.

“Thanks, angel.”

She kinda wants to kill him. He lost his right to call her that when he broke up with her. But she just smiles before turning to introduce herself to Ethan Edwards.

When she pulls up to Adam and Luca’s place the next morning with a big yawn, Shayla in the seat next to her, Adam hands Shayla a hot chocolate and she’s pleasantly surprised when Luca hands her an iced coffee. She takes a sip as they dump their bags in the trunk. A latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup. He still remembers.

She hates him. She loves him. She’ll always love him

(She watches the game on her laptop and sighs sadly when Michigan’s run at the Frozen Four is cut short. She texts in the group chat consisting of Shayla, Katie, Adam, Luca and her rather than individually.

💛💙proud of you both always

When Adam wins the Hobey Baker the day after, she immediately calls him, not expecting him to answer and ready to leave a voicemail. But he answers after two rings, and the first thing he asks is if they can switch to FaceTime. Suddenly, her screen is filled with Adam with his shades on in the Florida sun with the disgusting mullet. She just grins and congratulates him while he’s positively beaming. He shows her the trophy briefly and she hears some of his teammates yelling their greetings and she just laughs at all the chaos. She lets him go after another round of congratulations and tries not to let her smile fade when Luca comes on the screen with a wave.

Her heart aches.)

Graduation week is crazy and bittersweet and wonderful as she says goodbye to her younger friends and holds on to make some last minute memories with her best friends before her family and loved ones come to celebrate officially at the ceremony. She has dinner with her parents, her older sister Elena, Shayla and Shayla’s parents the night before her school convocation. She cheers for her friends when they walk across the stage the next morning, tries not to trip when she walks across and honestly kind of blacks out. Shespots her family in the stands purely from Shayla waving like crazy and laughs, waving back. Through all the chaos, she finds her family afterwards and pauses.

Because there’s Luca. Dressed in a white short sleeved button down and blue jeans, hair out of a baseball cap for once and standing there with a sheepish smile, a beautiful bouquet of purple and white flowers in his hand.

Why is he here?

She tears her eyes away from him as she hugs her parents and sister with a big smile. She squeals as she hugs Shayla, swaying side by side, reflecting back to late April when Shayla was the one graduating and the positions were reversed.

But all she can see is Luca. You, you, you, her mind whispers.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugs. “Wanted to surprise you.” He hugs her and she can’t help but smile being tucked into his chest. “Congrats, Mel. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” She mutters, blinking as he gives her the flowers. “These are beautiful. Jesus.”

“Here, let me hold something for you.” He takes her bag off her shoulder as well as her diploma out of her hands as she adjusts the three bouquets of flowers she’s gotten, trying not to crush any of them.

“Picture time!” Melody’s mom exclaims and then there’s a flurry of smiling and picture taking and lighting and angles and every combination possible, ending with Melody and Luca.

(When her mom sends the pictures later that night, she blinks at how couply they look. There’s a particular picture where she’s laughing at something Shayla said off camera and he’s looking at her like he might still be in love with her)

They stop by her apartment briefly so they can change before they all go to dinner. Apparently, everyone else knew Luca was coming because no one bats an eye as he comes along to their dinner. She’ll have to talk to Shayla about that later.

And it’s good, really. The conversation is easy and the food is good and she tries to ignore everytime her elbows brush against Luca’s and notes when his arm is around her chair so she doesn't lean back. They discuss the plan for the next day where Melody is just planning on packing before the all university commencement the day after. Her family is planning to explore the Chicago area while Shayla is attending another friend’s commencement at University of Chicago. When Luca’s asked of his plans, he hesitates. She doesn’t know what makes her say her next sentence, but she says it.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I could use another set of hands to help me pack.”

His head whips to her, mouth open a little. She tries to smile assuringly. He nods. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

She snorts. “Packing is not fun ever, but I like the enthusiasm.”

The next morning, she picks him up from the hotel all of them are staying at (“I’m in a room with Shayla and it’s a nightmare. How does someone’s shit get everywhere in such a short period of time?”) and drives in the opposite direction from her apartment. It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to realize that they’re going in the wrong direction. When he asks where they’re going, she bites her lip.

“I’m craving one last iced vanilla latte from The Alcott.”

Silence and then a small chuckle. “Are their blueberry muffins still as good?”

“Yup.”

“We gotta get some of those too then.”

And conversation is surprisingly easy. They talk about Michigan’s run to the Frozen Four and how that was cut short but what an amazing season they had, Adam’s World Championship win with Canada and his upcoming draft (she was invited months ago by Adam and the entire Fantilli family to Nashville, to which everyone but her was not surprised about), her last year at Northwestern, his first year at Michigan, and anything and everything in between. It’s so easy that it almost aches, the familiarity of The Alcott and what it means to her and what it means to them as she watches him order for the both of them and pays even though she tries to fight. She wanders over to the corner — their old spot — because she wants to savor this one more time before she has to let go. Before she has to let go of this place and this boy. Because she can’t keep him. He was never hers to begin with.

“Do you remember when we were snowed in here?”

She turns her head to look back at him before letting out a small chuckle at the memory. “Yeah. You were panicking because you thought your game was still on and I was surprised when it was cancelled, considering it’s Chicago and they never cancel anything due to snow.”

“And then they gave out free coffee refills and you were probably the happiest person in this place, just studying and humming along or scribbling in your journal.”

“We must’ve been here for, what, 6 hours?”

“Probably more, to be honest. Donna wouldn’t let a single person even think about driving until the storm had passed.”

She smiles, even if a bit sad. “Good times.”

He hums in agreement, and if she was looking at him and not out the window, she would notice that he’s looking at her fondly. “You’re a college graduate.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You’re right. It’s not, because we all knew you were always the smart one. But it is a big deal because it’s just crazy how time moves so fast.”

“How do you think I feel watching you and Adam get old and go to college? Not that you were innocent before, but Adam sent me some snapchats of your shenanigans at frat parties and sometimes I genuinely wonder how you’re alive and kicking for practice the next morning.”

“Fucking Adam. Always painting me in a bad light,” Luca scoffs, before clearing his throat. “How have you been? How do you feel?”

She lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Okay, I think. Overwhelmed. Excited. Scared. Thankful. Thinking about all the stuff I have to pack.”

“Do you have most of it done?”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. That’s what you’re here for.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

She stands up with her drink. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Once they get to her place, Melody puts Luca to work immediately, instructing him on which boxes to put things in as she cleans up her room. They work well together. When he’s stepping behind her to get somewhere or something, he always touches her back or elbow or shoulder gently and he doesn’t get annoyed at her indecisiveness on how to pack things, just dutifully following all her instructions. They’re about 70% done when her roommates Alison and Carey come in briefly and they meet Luca and they know exactly who he is but Melody’s thankful that they don’t let it show and gives them a meaningful look as they leave.

By the time most of her things are packed, it’s dinner time and she suggests that they drive to another one of her favorite spots on campus to grab a bite. A little sweaty, a little exhausted, she has to stop in her tracks when he shoots her the sweetest smile, adjusting the hat on his head and washing his hands before they head out.

And because it’s only seniors left on campus, it’s not surprising when she runs into a couple people she knows, weaving through to order and find a place to sit at the bar. More often than not she’s stopped and she introduces Luca to everyone and he’s smiling and she knows that everyone is immediately charmed because it’s Luca and that’s always been his effect on people, ever since they were kids. He’s wearing a Michigan hat and gets some chirps that he takes in stride and that make her giggle.

(If you were to ask Luca, it makes complete sense that everyone they’ve run into has nothing but a smile on their faces. Melody’s always been able to make anyone she’s come into contact with fall in love with her)

She heads to the bathroom at one point and when she walks back out, she sees a drop dead gorgeous blonde girl sitting where she sat and Melody’s not surprised but her heart falls a bit, watching the girl clearly flirt with him, if her body language indicates anything. She observes for a couple of seconds before taking a deep breath and walking back. She platers on the largest smile she can muster, her lips softening to a more genuine one when she sees him perk up.

“And there she is! The reason I’m here and the star herself.”

She can’t help but chuckle. “You’re sweet.” She turns to the girl. “Hey, I’m Melody. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Connie. Nice to meet you too. You graduated this weekend too?”

“Yup. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, congratulations.”

“Congratulations to you as well.”

Connie turns to Luca and Melody tries her best to not roll her eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Luca. I hope Melody gives you a proper tour of Evanston.”

“Best tour guide there is,” Luca responds easily, and Connie slips out of her chair with one last smile before Melody sits back in her seat. “Cool it with the death glare.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

She takes a sip of her coke, determinedly staring at his water. “You can flirt with anyone you want.”

“She was flirting. I wasn’t flirting back.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” she tries to tease lightly. “I’m sure girls fall at your feet at Michigan.” I know what that’s like, she thinks to herself. “Speaking of, anyone I should know about? Just so I can prepare myself for when I get jumpscared when I take you out for ice cream.”

“First of all, that’s an Adam move. And nope. No one’s caught my eye.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Surprising.”

He shrugs.

She hums, letting it go and steering towards safer conversation topics.

In the car on the way back to the hotel, she gets the courage.

“Luca.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you break up with me?”

A sharp inhale. The words linger in the air. She grips her steering wheel.

“I don’t know.”

Silence. A disbelieving scoff.

“Thanks, Luca.”

“No, no. Give me a second. I truly mean it, especially now looking back. At the time I thought it was what was best so that we would stay friends and not grow to hate each other, but when I think about it more and more, that reasoning is shit so I don’t know anymore. You deserved better.”

(Honestly, it’s probably good that they’re hashing this out now. She was far too nice to him two years ago.)

“If I deserved better why didn’t you do better?” She whispers. “Luca, you didn't even give me a chance to fix it.”

“I know. I know. I panicked and I ran and I lost you.”

“You’ve never lost me. I’m best friends with your cousin. I’ve driven you and Adam to and from school. I’m still here. The last thing I wanted to do that night was break up. You practically jumped at the chance..”

“But I lost you in the way it mattered.” He reaches over to grab her hand and she doesn’t pull away. He takes that as a good sign. “I fucked it all up, didn’t I? All this time we could’ve been together but we weren’t because I just ran away.”

“Why did you break up with me?” She repeats stoically.

“I guess, I guess I got it into my head that you deserve so much better than me. I mean, I was playing junior hockey and you were at fucking Northwestern and you’ve always been so much smarter than I am which I love, don’t get me wrong. You are so, so beautiful and kind to everyone and generous and you’ve literally been there for me since forever and… I just felt like I was holding you back and you deserve better and-“

“It’s not your choice to determine what I think I deserve,” she says firmly. “If you had just talked to me about it…Luca. All I wanted was for you to talk to me that night. And the few weeks before. I loved you for who you were, junior hockey and all or whatever the fuck else you said. Do you forget that we grew up together? I’ve seen it all, and I’ve stuck by you because I loved you.”

He takes a deep breath. “Do you know why no one’s caught my eye at Michigan?”

She freezes, having a feeling what the answer is but hoping it isn’t true (or hoping it is true). “Why?”

“Because the only girl who I see myself with is in Chicago.”

She swallows roughly. “You can’t just say that shit, Luca. It’s not fair.”

“I know, I know. I just-I…I’m sorry. I know I’m not being fair. I just…I miss you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was coming to your graduation but I couldn’t miss it. I really am so proud of you. I’ve always been your biggest fan.”

She stops at a red light and looks at him. “I hated you for a bit.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But looking back, I don’t think I ever hated you. I was just sad and heartbroken.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. He had always vowed to himself that he would never hurt her. The light turns green and she drives again.

She speaks up again. “Everyone always told me time is the best thing after a breakup. I didn’t know what they meant until I did. And seeing you got easier everytime, and I still wanted the best for you, even if I wasn’t the one by your side anymore. I still do. But at the same time, I wanted to forget you.”

“Would you consider trying again?”

“Luca-”

“I, just hear me out. I fucked up. I know that. God, I knew that the second I walked out of your place that night. I love you. I still love you. And I know I’m being unfair about all of this. But I just…my life is so much better with you by my side. I’ve realized that more than ever these last two years. And if you don’t feel the same way anymore, I get it. We can keep being friends or I can give you space if you want…whatever you need. I just had to say it. I love you. I can’t really see myself ever stopping, to be honest.”

In the middle of his little speech, she had pulled into the hotel and parked, killing the engine. It’s silent for a few moments as she mulls over his words.

“You really hurt me, Luca. I don’t know if I love you anymore.” His face starts falling, but she quickly continues. “But I think I could. Love you again, I mean. Maybe. But it has to be different this time.” He perks up but she holds up a hand and he listens. “We need to communicate better. We have to talk through our problems when they come up, not run away from them. We can’t just sweep things under the rug.”

“Deal.”

“I’m gonna be working in Chicago and you’re gonna be in Ann Arbor. The distance is still gonna be like before. We’re probably gonna be away from each other more than we’re together.”

“Worth it,” a soft smile appears on his lips. “Congratulations, by the way. On the job. I don’t know if I mentioned it yet.”

“Thank you,” she looks down at her hands. She sighs. “I wanted us to work the first time. I really did. God, Luca. You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“I’m gonna try so hard to be someone that you deserved the first time and that you deserve now.”

She smiles a bit sadly at that. “All you need to be is yourself. That’s all I ask.”

“Deal.”

“I know things are kinda busy coming up, with your cousin’s wedding and Adam’s draft and me going on my trip. But, uh, maybe we can go on a date when I’m back? If it isn’t too late.”

“It’s never too late when it comes to you,” Luca says. “I’d love that.” He leans in to kiss her cheek.

“Come on. I’ll walk you up to your room.”

Things still don’t quite fall into place after that weekend. The next time she sees Luca is when she comes to Nashville for the draft. Luca’s been beaming all day, extremely proud of his brother, but it doesn’t compare to the feeling he felt earlier when Melody and Shayla walked out of their hotel room, Melody wearing a blue satin jumpsuit and looking as stunning as ever. When she greeted him with a hug, he planted a brief kiss in her hair and watched fondly as she embraced Adam, straightening out his collar and placing a sweet kiss on his cheek, muttering some words to him that only those two could hear, Adam closing his eyes and nodding as she smiled. Luca knows how much her being here means to Adam.

(Only close family knew that on Adam’s vest on the back are the names of the important people in his life. When he takes off the suit jacket to show Shayla and Melody, the former beams while the latter starts sniffling. Both so proud of him. Both honored to be on his back in cursive. And Luca just hands her a tissue when she sees a particular picture on the inside of his jacket of the four of them when they were younger at the beach. It’s one of her favorites. It means so much.)

She cries when Adam gets picked third overall to the Columbus Blue Jackets and squeezes Shayla’s hand in excitement as Adam walks onto the stage. Afterwards when she sees him, she practically leaps onto him and squeezes him so tight as he spins her around.

(“Oh, Adam,” she says with a sniffle. “I’m so, so proud of you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Mel.” He says into her shoulder. “Thank you for everything. Everything.”

She pulls away but can’t help herself and hugs him again. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says as she backs away, biting her lip while placing her hands on his cheek.)

She’s then traveling with a couple friends around Europe and he’s in Pittsburgh for a few days for development camp before hanging out with friends and training. They text semi-frequently but she’s abroad and having fun and he respects that. He’s trying to figure out how to show her that he’s serious about the second chance she’s given him while trying not to overstep.

When he picks her up from Toronto Pearson Airport in mid July, it’s 7 am and she looks and feels like shit. But she comes out of Arrivals and immediately sees Luca waving, big smile on his face, a Michigan shirt on, a hat flipped backwards on his hair and a bouquet of carnations in his hands, looking at her like she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. She hugs him, taking the flowers with a smile as he grabs her duffle from her shoulder. Whether from exhaustion or simply because she’s missed him in more ways than she’d like to admit, she leans into his side as they walk out of the airport and into the parking lot and he immediately responds by putting an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

It’s so easy to fall back into rhythm with him, as she just admires him while he’s driving, too tired at the moment to recount her travels. Once they get off the highway, he puts the windows down and opens the skylight and there’s a pang of deja vu as he turns up the music a bit, humming along to some country tune. He slows down in front of Betty’s Diner and she furrows her eyebrows.

He smiles, stopping the engine. “I’m gonna go in real quick and grab some food, okay? Told Betty you were coming back today and she insisted on cooking you your favorite. I convinced her to put it in a to-go box but I promised her we’d come back to eat in at some point.”

Melody’s heart practically melts at the thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Lu.”

(He almost trips over himself getting out of the car. She hasn’t called him Lu in so long)

Luca’s house is empty, as Adam is training and his parents are both at work. Melody takes a quick shower to wash off the grime of the plane and when she comes out — in a UMich shirt and sweats she has to roll up that he laid out— the breakfast is all heated up on plates, the bouquet of flowers he gave her still wrapped but in a cup of water so they don’t die. Luca turns around at the sound of footsteps and something flashes through his eyes at the sight of her wearing his clothes again but he shakes himself out of it, instead just sliding a plate towards her. She slumps down on the kitchen island and thanks him with a hum before diving in.

Once she’s full and Luca’s taking all the plates and washing them before she can even blink, she speaks up. “Is this the date?”

“No,” he admits. “I figured I’d give you a couple of days to get over the jetlag before taking you out for real. I just, I wanted to do something nice.”

She wipes her lips with a napkin. “Not that I don’t appreciate all of this, because I do, but what…why?”

“You gave me a second chance. I’m not gonna waste that chance.” His eyes widen in fear. “I-I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you or being too forward. I-if you wanna go home or to Shayla’s, I can drop you off or-”

She smiles slightly. “Relax, Luca.” He blinks. It’s times like this he remembers that she’s two years older and much more level headed than he is. “I was just curious. You don’t have to do this all for me, you know?”

“I want to,” Luca replies simply. “Making up for lost time, I guess.”

��Then come over and finish up these waffles for me,” she says with a small smile, laughing when he barrels over and inhales them.

After breakfast, he can tell she needs sleep even if she won’t admit it. So he puts on Abbot Elementary and puts an arm around her shoulder as she leans into him on the couch. Halfway through the episode, she’s fallen asleep on his chest and he just smiles, staring down at her. He very carefully turns the volume down and shifts so that they’re both more in a comfortable position.

(When Adam comes back from training, he walks into the sight of his older brother and someone who might as well be his older sister cuddling, both asleep with Abbot Elementary still playing. He turns the TV off and tosses a blanket over them, staring at them both thoughtfully before heading to his room)

They do end up going on a date a couple days later. Luca picks her up at the door of her childhood home, waves to her mom and dad and gives her another bouquet of flowers (daisies this time). He then drives them to a nearby park that she hasn’t been to in at least 5 years and then pulls out a picnic basket of sandwiches, fruit, pasta salad, chips and cans of seltzer. She blinks as he lays it all out, because he’s really pulling out the stops and she has to stop herself from just leaning in and kissing him.

And the conversation between them is, yet again, so easy, reminding her of one of the many reasons she always liked him, even before they started dating. Their ability to bounce off of each other and talk about practically everything isn’t something that she’s been able to replicate with anyone else quite yet. There are some instances where they slip into some dangerous territory, but they successfully steer away from it. Those are conversations that need to be had, but not today.

For awhile, especially after their breakup, Melody had only fixated on their differences, with his hockey and party life at Michigan and her research and much tamer college life at Northwestern. But during that picnic, laying down with her head on his lap, she had a realization that they were similar in many ways she hadn’t thought about before — their love for Toronto, their distaste for judgemental people, their passion for leaving an impact, the way they love their friends and family, their love for music.

(It probably only took that date for Melody to fall in love with Luca again, but she would never admit that to herself)

They book a last minute trip to Seattle in late July— it’s purely because Melody found tickets to Taylor Swift last minute that were a reasonable price. She would’ve taken Shayla, but she already saw Taylor in Detroit two days before Melody’s graduation. So the couple hike some trails, eat some good food and have a blast at Taylor Swift.

(During ‘Fearless,’ which is one of Melody’s favorites, she’s hyper emotional, feeling Luca’s hands around her waist and him singing softly into her ear. He must also remember all the times she played this in the car growing up. During ‘Love Story,’ which is Luca’s favorite, she swears the stadium is shaking and it’s such a wonderful feeling to be a part of something like this. In the middle of the second chorus, she looks back at him with a smile, and he kisses her probably too deeply for what’s considered proper in public. But she can’t care less. And when he sings the last four lines to her in her ear, it feels something like a promise.)

He drives down with her to Chicago mid-August to help her move into her new apartment with a mutual friend from college who’s coming in September. Just like when he helped her move out, he doesn’t complain once. But this time, inbetween moving boxes, he puckers his lips and gets a kiss. The moment she realizes that she’s in her new home for the foreseeable future is when she’s placing some framed pictures around in her room, this particular one being of Shayla, Adam, Luca, Katie and her at the draft just under two months before. She doesn’t have that many framed pictures around, but this one was important to her to have up. She sets it down on the desk and just looks at it, even as Luca comes up to hug her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Shayla’s off to Houston for her job, Adam is off to Columbus to play in the NHL, Luca’s going back to Ann Arbor to do what he loves, Katie is going back to UCLA for her second year and she’s starting her job in Chicago.

All five of them doing what they love, excited for the future, grateful for the past. And doing it together, even if they’re all in different states.

He stays with her for a couple of days before heading back to Michigan. That goodbye sucks in particular, as she clings onto him. She’s trying so hard not to let tears fall, but when he softly mutters that he loves her (the first time he’s said those words since they decided to try again), the waterfall starts and she just sobs into his chest as he quietly whispers sweet nothings and rubs her back, kissing her hair and face and fingers and whispering that they’ll see each other in no time — which isn’t true. She has no idea when she’ll be able to get some time off as a new employee and he’s not gonna have that much time to spare once hockey season officially starts.

(She doesn’t say it back yet, something inexplicable holding her back. But as he kisses her soundly at the airport before heading through security, she knows she does)

As she’s driving to Ann Arbor in December it takes her an embarrassingly long time to realize why it feels like deja vu.

Last year around this time, she made this exact same drive to see a game against the exact same team. Except this time, it’s different. Adam isn’t there. Shayla isn’t there. The team is different. Her and Luca are different.

And as she’s driving to Ann Arbor, she knows she has to let him know. She has to let him know she loves him.

This is only the third time she’s seen him since he helped her move in August. She would be lying if she said it hasn’t been tough and there haven’t been moments where she wonders if it’s worth it. But then her phone lights up, signaling a text from him or food she didn’t order ends up at her doorstep or she watches streams of UMich games and watches him score and then she’s reminded that she made the right choice in giving Luca a second chance.

She loves watching hockey. She loves watching Luca play hockey.

She got the number of Maggie, Kienan’s girlfriend, from Luca because she would only be able to make it to Michigan right before the game started, and Maggie was more than happy to lead her inside with her media pass and introduce her to some of the other significant others before she’d actually have to get back to work. It was a bit weird, being one of those significant others and being a bit older, but she was a college student up until June, so it’s not like she feels completely out of place.

She parks outside of Yost and texts Maggie, who directs her on which door to walk to. After an enthusiastic hug, she leads Melody through the back way into the arena, saying that the boys are already on the ice for warmups and that everyone is excited to meet her (“We’ve heard so much about you, from Luca and even from Adam last year, so we’re all really excited to meet you.”)

She gets introduced to Ellie and Kayleigh, Jacob and Rutger’s girlfriends respectively, and they’re so peppy and excited and nice that she doesn’t feel as nervous as she sits down as they immediately want to get to know more about her. They have decent seats, so she can see some of the players’ expressions if she looks hard enough. She immediately spots 63 and just smiles before turning back to the girls, not wanting to distract him from warmups, even though she finds herself eyeing him while talking. It isn’t until one of the guys, Ethan, if she remembers his number correctly, nudges Luca and nods in their direction does she smile and give a small wave. Even from this far, she sees him light up and wave back before focusing on warming up again.

The game, like any Michigan vs Michigan State one, is chippy, loud and exciting. She’s watched so many of Luca and Adam’s games growing up, yet she still finds herself nervously playing with her sleeves. Michigan ends up winning 2-1 and everyone’s in happy spirits as they leave the arena. She bids farewell to the girls and thanks them for letting her sit with them before Maggie’s back to lead her towards the locker room to meet up with Luca.

She waits patiently outside of the locker room with Maggie, just chatting casually, smiling when Kienan comes out and they embrace. Melody gives him a hug as well. The next guys to come out are Mark, Ethan and Seamus, who she remembers from last year and they all give her hugs before she wishes them a good holiday break. She tells them that they don’t have to stay and they all wave her off. (“Are you kidding? I’m not missing this reunion. Luca’s been talking about seeing you non-stop for forever.” Ethan jokes.)

They don’t have to wait long, as Luca’s the next one to come out. His cheeks are a bit flushed and he’s dressed in her favorite suit of his. His eyes dart all over until they meet hers. He immediately shrugs off his backpack and lifts Melody up in a hug. She lets out a little squeal and laughs as he spins her around.

“Hi.” She mutters into his shoulder.

“Hi angel.” He pulls away and kisses her twice. “I missed you.”

She pulls back and runs a hand through his hair with a light smile. “Missed you. Good game.” She looks beyond his shoulder to see the rest of his teammates smiling or smirking, some she recognizes, others she doesn’t. She detaches herself from him and nudges him. “Introduce me to your teammates.”

He groans playfully. “Do I have to?”

She rolls her eyes and smiles at the boys warmly. “Hi. I’m Melody, if we haven’t met.” She gives everybody a quick hug as the freshmen introduce themselves, laughing when Dylan wiggles her around.

Everyone’s a bit tired, so within 10 minutes, everyone’s saying goodbye and leaving the arena. She insists on driving Seamus, Rutger and Gavin since they all live together. When they get back, she’s helping him fold clothes to bring back to Toronto for break as he sits back on his bed, one hand behind his head and just looking at her. She’s grown out her hair and got a perm as a treat to herself after her first paycheck. And she had FaceTimed him immediately after she walked out of the salon, but seeing it in person is something entirely different. Still donned in his MIchigan crewneck that mysteriously disappeared from his closet over the summer and a yellow bow in her hair, she’s wearing flannel pajama pants now instead of jeans and folding a pair of his jeans before tossing it into his duffle and zipping it up. Luca’s suddenly overwhelmed by how blessed he is.

The next morning, after brunch at one of Luca’s favorite spots around campus, when they’re at the start of their drive back to Toronto and at a long stoplight, she remembers.

“Hey, Lu?”

“Hm?” He immediately looks at her and places a kiss on the back of her hand that he’s been holding.

“I love you.”

Luca’s eyes light up and she bites her lip so she doesn’t grin like a crazy woman. “Yeah?” He breathes out.

“Yeah. I love you.”

He leans to press a sweet kiss on her lips and then her cheek, and mutters against her skin. “I love you, angel. So much. Always have. Always will.”

And she chuckles under her breath when she tunes into what song is playing through the speakers of her car.

This love came back to her, indeed.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #hockey fanfic #umich #umich hockey #luca fantilli #luca fantilli fic #luca fantilli x oc #adam fantilli #team 101 #luca fantilli blurb #hockey blurb

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historicity-was-already-taken · 2 months

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hi! hope you're doing okay—I've got a holocaust-history-in-media question for you. I was talking to my brother the other day, and he mentioned how his 10-year-old son tried out "Anne Frank mode" on the meta VR headset. I was kind of horrified, because that sounds deeply exploitative and disrespectful—but he went on to say it's just a VR version of the Anne Frank house, and that it let my nephew explore history in a new way. He was able to touch things and move them around in a way he wouldn't be able to IRL, not to mention the accessibility of not having to travel.

My nephew's kind of an unusual kid, and he chose this "game" while at a friend's house. All the other kids got bored and left pretty much immediately, but he stayed to learn, and my brother says that at the end his takeaway was, "It's so sad. It's so sad and awful what human beings do to each other."

Part of me is just like "No, absolutely not, that is not for VR companies to profit off of in any way, this feels inherently exploitative." But idk. If it increases accessibility and education in a meaningful way, then perhaps that disquiet is simply reactionary.

Then I remembered I have access to an actual Holocaust historian, someone who even specializes in women's narratives and the media portrayals of same.

So, no worries if you're busy/don't have time to respond to this, but I thought it might be an interesting question for you. Do you think the VR Anne Frank house is a good thing?

Ooooooh this is an interesting one. It's also a question that I think I would have answered differently a few years ago. I mean, I've posted here about my issues with central role Anne Frank has been accorded within Holocaust memory, I've posted about the politics of people playing Pokemon Go at sites of atrocities and disasters...

But. Technology changes SO quickly. I read this fantastic article probably 10+ years ago now about how the millennial generation began to express collective nostalgia SO quickly and so young, because technology and the norms it introduces change so quickly. I'm 34 and while that's hardly ancient, the technological world inhabited by children and adolescents is effectively alien to me because of this massive, rapid, ongoing change.

Moreover, I think the pandemic gave us all an...unwanted but helpful bootcamp in what works wrt education over the phone/computer, and what doesn't. In my personal and professional life, I've met and spoken with STEM companies/individuals who specialize in working with museums, historical societies, etc. And they're not just in it to make a buck--they're there to work with museums etc in increasing access and keeping up with educational trends because they know it's important and smart people value STEAM education.

So, despite my acknowledged concerns issued in the first paragraph, and the kneejerk negative reaction I think you and I share, I think my conclusion is that this is a good thing. Like, as a Holocaust historian, pubic historian, educator, and now a Hebrew School teacher of 7-11 year olds, I think whatever gets kids interested and engaged is Good; whatever draws them and gets them thinking about it is Good; even if the tech and infrastructure involved is something that I previously took (philosophical) issue with.

This doesn't mean I don't still have concerns about the centrality of Anne Frank, but let's be real: I lost that battle a long time ago. I've said my piece, and if Anne Frank is going to be kids' gateway into learning about the Holocaust, I'm glad to see that it's being done responsibly, well, and in keeping with how kids engage with education and tech in 2024.

There are, obviously, many theoretical conversations to be had about the implications of this kind of thing, and I hope a grad student applies like, Walter Benjamin to it for a first year paper, but this is my answer purely in terms of access and education.

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maxwell-grant · 1 month

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This feels like the kind of ask someone should've gotten around to a million years ago, but it seems it falls to me: The Shadow vs. The Penguin. Is there anything there?

Anonymous asked: How would pulp heroes like the Shadow or Green Hornet respond to The Penguin. Characters like Joker or Ra’s I can see them gunning down but that feels weird to do with Oswald “Pengy For President” Cobblepot

(Penguin by Mike Mignola. The Shadow by Lela Dowling)

It's amazing, really, what you've built here. You had a vision and made it real. Every Batman in existence respects you for it, Oswald. In fact, I'll tell you a secret…people assume that Batman's last enemy on most worlds out there is Joker. Maybe Riddler, or Ra's…but it's you.

See, you grow this crime empire until he has to deal with you. - The Batman Who Laughs #3

What there is here is a bit of an impasse, because yes obviously this is brutally, comically one-sided against The Penguin. Pitting most if not all Batman villains against The Shadow is going to be already one-sided in The Shadow's favor. Pick a Batman villain, even the big ones that make Batman the underdog like Ra's and Bane, and you can name a similar threat that The Shadow already defeated. Even if you don't count superpowered cheating with whatever abilities The Shadow has this moment, he's already dealt with most of everything they can do, he's beaten these strategies and puzzles and countless death traps at their own game, and yeah there's the fact that he's known for the fact his villains don't tend to come back for round two even when they don't die facing him. Villains that he faces tend to die specifically because they try to kill him and he returns their fire (it's important to establish here that, unless his enemies have guns drawn on innocent people, The Shadow rarely shoots first - they always have a chance to lay down their arms and walk away, a chance that most obviously never take), and Penguin's known for his unwillingness to go down without a fight and for his signature move being a concealed sneak attack, which means his odds of dying are near dead certain.

In fact, The Shadow already fought a Penguin-esque guy as one of his few reocurring villains, via The Wasp, Gibson's latter day attempt to make another Voodoo Master/Shiwan Khan. The Wasp is a "Napoleon of crime" whose body and strange buzz voice and antics and operations are themed after his namesake animal/insects, who uses a concealed weapon part of said theme (an electric "sting" on his hand powered by batteries on his belt), who connects Cranston to The Shadow and was also the only villain to figure out that Kent Allard is The Shadow. He was cleverer and more resourceful and harder to defeat than most of the typical Shadow villains, and to his credit he did achieve a thing nobody else really achieved in the run, and it didn't really do him that much (learning the secret identity tends to be a death sentence for vigilantes, but for The Shadow it's really not that big a deal, given how easily he can make new ones) and he still went out like a chump, and he's only really remembered as the less impressive of the reocurring supervillains, lacking the outright superpowers of the others. It seems like a fairly closed case.

Problem is, the more comically one-sided the odds are against Oswald, the more likely he is to actually win or at least survive because of that. Going up against people who should have his goose cooked, getting away with things he absolutely shouldn't, slipping away to survive and put one over Johnny Law, that's his thing, it's been his thing from day one. He is no stranger to dealing with vigilantes or people much bigger and stronger and scarier than him, it wasn't that long ago he was walking off getting shot at point blank and later faking his death. Penguin is no common criminal, and he isn't just a guy who's unusually smart and competent at it enough to waddle among supervillains either. In his narrative domain, The Shadow is unbeatable, but in his narrative home, The Penguin is unkillable, and not just because he's a comic book villain who survives by editorial demand. He has protagonist survival clause now.

In his ups and downs over the years, he survived in large part by becoming a fixture of Gotham, someone impossible to uproot from the setting, with his ignanimous transformation into stool-pigeon and banal crimelord in part a consequence of said survival. After more or less retiring from villainy, the next step was to very gradually join the likes of Catwoman, Azrael, Harley Quinn and Renee Montoya in their careers as independent Gotham-adjacent protagonists, which is why he now gets to have his own tv series (the second one at that, because Gotham exists and if it achieved anything, it was proving that there's an audience for The Penguin Show - and yes it still is very much shitty, but also not remotely surprising, that the instant they made a version of Oswald thin, that guy became a critical and fandom darling overnight). The Penguin wormed his way into becoming irreplaceable and they tried, they tried very hard over the years to replace this guy, and he's taken some brutal lumps and fell off very hard from the Bat-villain totem pole, but even that just enabled him to ascend to a different pole and one that makes it he can't really be just another gangster or supervillain to be knocked around, and one that's almost specifically built to ensure his narrative survival. Someone who serves the story better by being alive.

Has The Shadow ever dealt with a guy like this? Yes, yes he has. The Shadow is no stranger to criminal protagonists, or the concept of nuance, or redemption. He is certainly no stranger to the gentleman of crime who is more than what he seems.

The man who entered was tall and well built. He had the manner of a gentleman. He was attired in a perfectly fitting dress suit, which he wore with the easy air of a man of the world - Kings of Crime

The gentleman of crime arose, picked up his hat and coat and reached for his cane. There, his form obscured, The Shadow stood close enough to overhear what Graham Wellerton was saying. The gentleman of crime was talking to members of his mob.

What was Graham Wellerton's purpose? How and why had the gentleman of crime parted from his men? Why was he no longer engaged in robbery? - Road of Crime

To all appearance, George Ellerby was a gentleman; and he was actually qualified to prove such a claim. But tonight, he was to be a gentleman of crime - Battle of Greed

"I wonder," said Sandersham, slowly, "just how much The Shadow can do, or intends to do. Who is he, Krengle? How powerful is he?"

"No one knows who The Shadow is," replied the lawyer. "But he is death on crooks, they say, and he considers crime to be much broader than its legal implications." - Battle of Greed

There's about 5 Shadow novels that specifically touch on the topic of redemption. There are others where it comes up, plenty of others where The Shadow goes the extra mile in giving criminals a chance, and stories that highlight the lines that The Shadow draws in deciding how to deal with criminals (“To murderers, The Shadow dealt death: to such schemes (robbery, fraud, etc), he dealt ridicule.” - The Third Shadow), but those 5 make a focus of it. In all of those 5, we meet characters that can be called a "gentleman of crime". They are cunning, respectable-looking young men who use their smarts for crime, largely because of social circumstances that force them into using criminal tactics for dealing with life-consuming problems that the law has failed them in, and The Shadow assists them in addressing and rectifying said problems and turning their lives around.

In Kings of Crime, blackmailer and swindler Hubert Carpenter. In Road of Crime, the protagonist Graham Wellerton, "bank robber deluxe". In The Broken Napoleons, engineer Curt Sturley. Battle of Greed opens with George Ellerby, although he's not really the protagonist and is stopped before he commits his first robbery, and that story has two other redemptions that pull more focus. And in House of Shadows, Kid Pell, whose tragic demise opens the story. With the exception of Carpenter, all of these young men are given understandable and even sympathetic reasons for having become criminals, as all of them became criminals specifically because the law failed them profoundly and allowed them to suffer horrible injustice and ruin upon their lives and families, while shielding those that inflicted it upon them and provided no other recourse for them, and The Shadow goes out of his way to directly or indirectly steer them away from the paths they're walking.

Out of these, only Hubert Carpenter had a body count: he is not a murderer outright, but his past deeds had pushed victims to suicide, and The Shadow fully intended to let him serve his sentence in full. It is through the involvement of innocent parties (he took a dive to get the money to his family, he was betrayed, and his wife fell ill, making him break out of jail and desperately try to get the money for her treatment by robbing an old man who turned out to be The Shadow in disguise) and Carpenter’s own serious efforts to reform himself and assist in the downfall of his far crueler former partners that he’s able to redeem himself and face a new life (The Shadow delivers a government pardon so that he serves a month instead of 10 years).

“Somehow, he knew that The Shadow would not see the innocent suffer for the guilty.” - Kings of Crime

Kid Pell, who had already shot at least 6 people and killed 2 before the story began, wasn't quite so lucky. Dying of blood loss after trying to shoot The Shadow, his last words are a plead for him to get the guy who pushed him into this path, and keep an eye on his brother Denry to stop him from going down his path (which ends up happening, but The Shadow is able to save Denry in time).

"They called me a public enemy," declared Pell. "What else could I be, after my first kill? You know what it is to be quick on the trigger. That's the way I am" - he hesitated, his smile dwindling - "or was."

"I tried crime," said the Kid. "It didn't pay. But I was in it - deep. So I stayed. I've got no excuses. I'm not even blaming the fellow that started me in it. What I did was on my own. Understand?"

"Do me a favor," muttered the dying man. "Let me be forgotten - as Kid Pell. I rigged this hideout, so I could close accounts. Let me go through with it the way I want."

The Shadow's whispered tone gave agreement. Pell's face relaxed. In the glow of the lantern, his features lost their forced hardness. It was easy to see why he had been nicknamed the Kid. His age couldn't have been more than twenty-two.

Even his surroundings spoke a pathetic story. The shelves of the trailer were provisioned for a long stay; and among the canned goods were a few jars of homemade jam; probably the very sort that he had swiped from his mother's pantry only a few years ago.

There were books, too, that dated back to boyhood. Even when he had embarked on his career as a public enemy, Kid Pell had taken these along. He was looking at them, eyes open, the jam jars and the books, and he was smiling again, Kid Pell was. But the dampness from his dying eyes was forming into little beads, like raindrops. Suddenly, the Kid's lips stiffened.

A hand was resting on the Kid's shoulder. He could feel the power of its grip: the hand of The Shadow, merciless to men of crime. To this dying youth, murderer though he was, the pressure of that hand had the warmth of friendship.

"Maybe, Shadow" - The Kid was choking the words - "I ought to have met you before. Maybe… if I had-"

The grip tightened. It brought an end to regrets that could not be remedied. It steeled the Kid for what lay ahead - House of Shadows

-the words that The Shadow delivered held Sandersham rigid. Never in his life had the millionaire listened to such pointed accusations; such words that jogged his memory, nor such tokens of prophecy. "Rupert Sandersham," came the voice, "you are a man condemned by your own avarice! You are a master, not of finance, but of greed!"

"While your wealth grows greater," resumed The Shadow's voice, "your life grows shorter. As your schemes expand, your soul shrivels. You have physical comforts, yes"—the tone was mocking—"but who knows how long you shall retain them?"

"Your power, Sandersham, is not equal to the strength of the law. There have been loopholes in your schemes, that certain eyes may discover before your attorneys plug them". - Battle of Greed

Is The Penguin sympathetic? In some ways, yes. Is The Penguin redeemable? Not a question I'm remotely interested in handing a firm "Yes/No" to, because it's kinda both and neither, redemption tends to be conditional and fickle like that, and also irrelevant to the matter here: We've established that The Shadow (again, speaking for the pulp version here, it's what I tend to do) does not go out of his way to execute criminals, but doesn't hesitate to kill them when they try to gun him or others down. Would The Shadow extend The Penguin an olive branch and spare his life in the hopes that he'd come around and use his impressive intellect and resources and drive for the better? No. It would be useless. The Shadow doesn't deal with that kind of "hope", and The Penguin would not be interested in doing so either.

There have been occasions where The Shadow was caught in a bad enough situation that he had to momentarily pause the pursuit of a criminal, but The Shadow does not compromise, nor does he ever really need to, and he knows a true villain when he sees it. He is not keeping Oswald around as a informant, because he doesn't play by Gotham City rules where that seems like a reasonable thing to do. The true villain of most Shadow stories is always the person who stands to profit the most from said calamity, and most of the time they operate beneath suspicion. There is 0% chance of him underestimating Oswald the way Oswald prefers to be underestimated.

There are two ways Oswald Cobblepot would walk away from meeting a quick death at the hands of The Shadow. The first would be if he never killed anyone, or did anything that led to anyone's death ever again. He'd have to commit to undoing the ruin he brought onto people's lives and give back as much to the city and his victims as he possibly could. Such was what The Shadow did in Battle of Greed to Rupert Sandersham, a millionaire who got a kick out of ruining others financially. He is not the villain, nor is he a murderer, but The Shadow manipulated and terrorized him into making amends and repaying all the people he destroyed. These would be the best, most impossibly nice terms The Shadow could offer Oswald, along with him serving time and spend his whole life looking over his shoulder when, and if, he gets out.

"Look at yourself, Sandersham! You are wearing stripes! In front of you are bars! Beyond you, the outside world. Regard it as an omen, and make your choice. Amend the past; rectify the wrongs that you have done—or face the future consequences that your present methods will bring you!"

Rupert Sandersham was staring downward. His startled eyes saw the stripes that The Shadow had mentioned: those alternate ribbons of dark and light, that came from the setting sun. They had turned his gray suit into a convict's garb! Could it be that he, Rupert Sandersham, might find himself within a prison cell?- Battle of Greed

And that is not happening. There is not a single version of The Penguin who would accept these terms or accept this as a thing he's going to do. Short of the most kid-friendly media and even then, much as I argue that he should have rules of conduct, I don't think there is a single version of the Penguin who'd balk at murder or who hasn't committed it with little to no remorse. Oswald Cobblepot may carry much bitterness and heartbreak, but The Penguin loves what he is too much to accept being anything else. He isn't scared of any of these terms and would find them deeply absurd, because who is this, trying to tell The Penguin he isn't allowed to rob this thing, or kill that guy getting on his nerves, or ruin that rich asshole over there. The audacity of this laughing clown! As if he didn't have one too many to deal with!

The other way he lives, at least for a while, is if he turns out to be right about the way Gotham City works, and it turns out that he really cannot be removed from his position without far worse things growing as a result. I don't think The Shadow would have issues with the Batman villains individually, but neither do Batman or most superheroes. It's Gotham City that's the real problem here, and it's a problem that Batman hasn't solved in nearly a hundred years, and neither has Superman or any of the billion superheroes in that universe, a problem that will never be solved so long as there's a profit to be made on Batman. The Shadow can and has cleaned cities of organized crime before, usually by manipulating it's players into destroying each other, but even he has limits and Gotham City is no mere gangster-ridden town, much like how the man who claimed it is no mere crimelord either.

So the final matter at play here is whether The Penguin is right, and if so, whether The Shadow can afford to kill The Penguin, when there are other more pressing matters. Because the biggest reason Penguin's able to position himself where he is, as a necessary evil in-universe and a reocurring side character/even protagonist out of it, is by never being the nastiest or most urgently threatening villain in the room, and therefore always being the one that the heroes have to compromise with or have to defeat quickly to get moving. He has weaponized a Kingpin-esque idea that he is a necessary deterrent, because Gotham can always get worse, and everyone else who can take power in Gotham from him is much worse than him, and therefore you save the most innocent lives by allowing him to do his thing under a leash. Refer that line above, about how The Shadow will not suffer the innocent for the guilty.

There has been at least one Shadow story where he's dealt with this dillemma, in Face of Doom, as I elaborate here. The Shadow defeated the Face through taking the long way around, disarming his individual lieutenants, luring them into traps and disguising himself as The Face and all kinds of strategies necessary to checkmate the guy, but in the process also giving The Face enough time to regroup and strategize and target his agent(s). A similar thing happened when he had to take down Benedict Stark, and had to considerably slow down the operations to rescue Rutledge Mann from kidnapping. Issuing any kind of harm or death to The Shadow's agents guarantees him unleashing carnage on you personally, refer to Gangdom's Doom where he obliterates organized crime in Chicago in response to the death of Claude Fellows, but The Penguin can play smart. He can refrain from doing that, and buy himself more time, as The Shadow goes after those that think they have what it takes.

I think The Shadow vs The Penguin would probably pull elements from all of these stories I'd mentioned. If The Penguin is right, The Shadow would have to defeat, or at minimum stall, crime in Gotham City in a way that could then remove The Penguin from the picture, which means The Shadow would have to go through the rest of Batman's Rogues Gallery. Difference being, he's not going to fight those guys forever, he might not even fight them at all.

For The Shadow, he's up against a particularly smart, resourceful and powerful "gentleman of crime". One with personal tragedies and codes of conduct, one who might have even been like the ones he'd been able to reform if life hadn't twisted him, but who at present poses an active danger to the lives of people of the city, and stopping that is the bigger concern. He's taking down not just one crime king, but an empire that the crime king holds at bay, and god knows how many crime kings in the way, and possibly others who would see the innocent suffer for the guilty and keep this stalemate forever. The Shadow doesn't do stalemates, and Oswald Cobblepot is going to repent for all he's done or die, and nothing in between.

For The Penguin? He might very well be in heaven. He's dealing with death itself arriving from nowhere to give him the greatest challenge of all: surviving. Which just so happens to be the thing he does best and takes the most pride in doing. It might even be the kind of thing that makes him feel alive again. Facing down someone every bit the implacable wall of terror the Bat is, but who is less about the martial arts brute showdowns and more about god knows how many other subtler espionage chessplay and psychological mind tricks, and zero hesitation in putting a bullet in his head.

And possibly taking it's sweet time wiping out all of the competition, going through the long list of wiping out all of Oswald's hated rivals and competitors for him, and possibly a few unfortunate friends. Years, decades of playing the long game, gathering his assets, putting pieces in place, keeping his head low, letting the Bats and the others walk over him and forget he's there, and he's rewarded with the game of a lifetime! To be the arch-criminal who took on The Shadow and won! You'd almost think he'd have planned for The Shadow to come after him, and getting very angry if Batman shows up to get on the case to stop this because huur I'm a big selfish brute who wants to hog all the fun, duuuh Oswald you can do better, we don't kill around these parts Shadow huurgh, god, Batman, *waugh* can you BE any more of a self-important killjoy?

Sure, if no divine intervention comes, he's absolutely going to die, he is not walking out of this confrontation alive even if The Shadow has to go through Gotham ten times to get to him. But, you know, the real problem with Icarus was that idiot drowned when he fell, because he forgot to pack a bathing suit.

And you know what penguins do best, right?

*WAUGH WAUGH WAUGH*

#replies tag #the shadow #superheroes #dc comics #batman #the penguin #oswald cobblepot #shadow magazine #pulp heroes

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