#why is your bar so low. why are your morals so fluctuating. god

[gender-euphowrya]

why is the go-to reaction people have to calls Not to consume media involving super problematic people always "i'll pirate it :)" just don't fucking do that either

how do you fucking find the ability to enjoy the thing knowing the fucked up shit the people behind it did.

[peacefulwriter88]

One That Got Away - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Proceed With Caution

Universe: Marvel Canon

Rating: M for Mature (Language, Sexual tones eventual)

Previous Chapter 

“Is that her?”

Bucky’s voice is calm but there’s a tinge of eagerness behind each word as he looks from your moving form back to Steve. Steve gives a slight nod, his eyes unmoving from watching you as you cross the room, make it to the bar.

“Then ask her out for drinks! My god – she’s perfect for you.”

“Bucky,” Steve flickers his eyes over to his longtime friend, who is watching him with amusement.

“No.”

“What? Why!?”

Steve stays in silence and Bucky sighs, crossing his arms. Knowing that if Steve wasn’t going to open up about it he’d get nowhere fast and quite frankly he was too tired to fight with his former 5’3 friend; it had been a long week.

“Because he’s afraid she’ll say no.” Sam chimes in and the idea causes Bucky to roll his eyes.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Let it go Bucky…” Steve sighs, his eyes flashing over to where you stood at the bar. It doesn’t take long before you’re flanked by Ellie and another man, both curious to know where you had gone.

He tries to focus on something else, the conversations others are having about the art, but it’s hard not to eavesdrop when his body was trained to pick up something dropping for miles off and while he feels intrusive dropping into your conversation, he knows that it can’t be helped. Just like Bucky equally can pick up on the words that carry over the large sound of the room.  

“Aria,” Ellie’s voice is light and giggly, clinging on to her friend as she places her empty glass down on the bar, “Where have you been? Nel’s been quizzing me and you know I don’t care for this art crap. Let’s go home, or get some drinks in a sketchy bar and play a game.”

“That’s fine.” Ariadne’s voice doesn’t fluctuate as Nel gasps.

“Oh that’s it. You’re not going to address where you’ve been gone for half an hour after you walked off with that handsome piece of chocolate and probably found the world’s next best portrait.”

You give a deep sigh, looking over at him. Unamused.

“You’re the art curator. I’m just here for the free drinks and moral support.”

Nel narrows his eyes.

“Then support me. Who’s Mr. Chocolate man and where did you go?”

Ellie looks up from where she’s resting alongside Ariadne’s bosom, her eyes caging her as she wraps an arm around her body.

“You went off with a man and didn’t even tell me?”

There’s sadness tinged in her drunken voice, though she’s amused and Ariadne’s sighs, rubbing her back. It was interesting to see your maternal instincts kick, strong despite the sassiness you exuded earlier,

“It wasn’t like that.” You assure her.

“Then what was it like?” Nel and Ellie chime in together and he sees how you stiffen, can see the way you play with the empty glass in your hand. You shrug, pulling out the remaining olive and biting into it before nodding over to his and Bucky’s direction,

“See for yourself.”

Ellie and Nel work effortless together, heads swinging back before Ellie’s gasps and Nel giggles, both turning to you,

“You have to invite him out for drinks!”

Everyone waits for your response, Steve and Bucky included as you finish your olive, keep your eyes trained on the window that allows you a glimmer of the cold, rainy evening. Seconds later, olive freshly swallowed you keep silent, eyes trained on the outside.  

The silence saying it all.

“See,” Steve doesn’t want the pain and disappointment to show. “Not. Interested.”

He turns back to the photo, back to Sam who turns to him.

“So you asking her out for drinks?”

He can see Bucky’s hand twitch, knows that the super soldier wants to hit him against his head but decides against it for a second. Not because he decides in that moment to be a good person, to take a second to reflect and understand why Sam was restating the obvious for Steve to live through again. Not because knows the action in of itself will frustrate Steve.  It’s because the sound of your shoes clicking against marble drives his attention. You’ve ignored your friends as they yell out to you, ignore Bucky as you eloquently move past his questioning eyes as you clear your throat, gaining the attention of Steve and Sam.

“So eager for seconds?” Bucky teases, though his eyes are gleaming with amusement like they were before. You nearly choke on your laughter, rolling your eyes as you return them to Steve’s. It’s the intensity of the stare that causes you to falter, to cause you to bite down on your lips and Steve frowns, instinctively placing his hands in his pockets.

Trying to relax his nerves.

Lips shouldn’t be as succulent as yours.

“Steve,” your voice is sure and collected, feels different against his ears, “Would you like to join me and my friends for drinks?”

There’s a slight moment of silence, he can hear how fast your heart is beating, your fingers falling on top of the other as you fidget with them.

“You can even bring your friends. Even you’re rude ones.” Your eyes flicker over to Bucky who guffaws and you give a subtle wink before your irises are bearing back into his own. There confident, cool, collected – measuring him and he wonders if they’d look that collected with his cock ramming into you.

The idea shakes him, the knowledge of having the pleasure of your mind and body if just for a night, so he smiles as he responds,

“I’d love to. I’ll just tell the art gallery owner I’m heading out and can meet you at the entrance?”

“Perfect.”

You smile at him, not the sweet one he’s become accustomed to but something more seductive, teasing as you turn on your heels and return to your friends.

“You are in trooooubbblleee,” Bucky sings lowly and Sam laughs, slapping the back of Steve as Bucky continues. “I don’t know if you can handle all that Steve but I’m willing to risk the rest of my evening to see.”

“When do you jump into being third wheel?” Sam guffaws and Bucky shrugs, his eyes flickering back to the group.

“Oh, I have my reasons.”

By the time Steve joins Sam and Bucky outside, they’ve been left alone at the side of the curb and for a second Steve thinks that he’s been played, that you’ve been pulling his finger all night and he was left being the joke. Instead Sam looks up, a smile on his face as he says,

“Ariadne just texted me the bar. It’s a few blocks from here but easy ground to cover by foot.”

Steve furrows his eyes as he zips up his blue bomber jacket, getting in stride with Bucky as they follow Sam.

“Ariadne texted you? You have her number?”

Sam snickers, looking over at him as Bucky groans.

“Steve, really? You’re going to get jealous over Sam? Sam? Of the two of us he’s the least competition.”

“Hey!” Sam says though he chuckles and nods his head, “Though he’s right. Ariadne is far from my type and I’m sure I’m far from hers.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head,

“I don’t know Sam. I’m sure she thinks you’re handsome. It’s just your sexual preferences that might throw her off.”

The two jump into mild banter as Steve falls back into his mind. He knows that Sam isn’t a threat – that he wouldn’t purposely try to swoon you even if he was straight. He also knows that the banter he had observed between the two of them had been light and playful, falling more on the scale of brotherly and sisterly then romantic. You just made him second guess things. Kept preoccupying his mind, taking over his instincts.

It was regret. Bucky had laid it out simply when he had walked into Steve’s studio, seeing the same image of the same woman over and over again. Sam had filled in the little details he had already picked up and immediately berated Steve.

Of course he was curious. She was a mystery to Steve. Hadn’t fulfilled his itch of either being someone he wanted to know or someone he wanted to fuck. Either way, Steve was going to continue down this pathetic road of obsession until someone new distracted his mind or he ran into you again.

Steve knew that he was then, in the most limited of words, fucked. Women normally didn’t capture his attention. Not anymore – not like that. Sure, sometimes he had physical needs and those needs called for him to sometimes go out and connect with a woman. But it was purely just that – physical. He didn’t want to be emotionally invested, didn’t want the baggage of a relationship. He had explored that once in this decade with Sharon and that had turned out great. He was still convinced he had a scar from where she damn near almost shot him in the head. Of course, he could have chosen to break up with her in private, not while they were on mission trying to take down a group of Soviet terrorists.  

Either way, he didn’t understand what was happening to him – couldn’t pinpoint why you were haunting his mind. Sure you were attractive. He liked the curve to your hips, your plump ass, the way your cleavage accentuated your breasts. You had plenty of features that he looked for in a woman. There was something more. You intrigued him, kept him on his toes, wasn’t afraid to push back. To see him.  

He liked that in a woman.

Sam directs them to a bar eight wet blocks later, and they follow him down the dark set of stairs before walking through a worn red door.

The other side – like all things in New York – was different and came to be a surprise. Sure it was one of those kind of bars where you have low conversations and good laughs and the drinks are strong and the food is subpar but jazz played in the space, high and sultry as stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air. It had the kind of speakeasy vibe that was hard to truly replicate in this century and Steve likes it already, likes that you can get caught in the smoky darkness. Likes it more that it’s a place you’ve picked out.

“Not what I expected.” Bucky says, looking over at Steve who’s looking for you. He finds you easily, the shawl you’ve been wearing across your shoulders now hanging off the back of the large booth you’re in as you lean over the table with Nel and Ellie, looking at the cards in her hand. There’s a few waters in front of you as you sip yours slowly, laughing along with your friends. It’s the most relaxed he’s seen you, he likes you like this, unguarded and he’s not quick enough to look away when you look up at the door, catching the three of them awkwardly standing there and waving them over.

“If you don’t ask for her fucking number Steve I swear, I swear to you, I will kick your ass during tomorrow morning's training.”

Steve chuckles as he flickers his eyes over at Sam who’s eyeing him down.

“Understood.”

“Okay dad.” Bucky chuckles, breaking up the tension though he nods, “Though I might hold you down while he punches if you don’t. I mean it Steve-O, you fight aliens…you can handle one dame that’s into you.”

Steve returns his attention back to you as you all move in the booth, adjusting yourself so they can sit down. You’re sandwiched between Ellie and Nel, dead set in the middle and Sam makes a move to slide in beside Nel – Bucky beside Ellie. He’s left with grabbing a chair and sitting across from you, able to get a full look at the low dip in your top, the way your cleavage teases his eyes as you pull your hair up in a bun.

“You boys are just in time to buy us a drink.”

Your voice is light and flirty and though you address them, you’re looking directly at him. You’re mood has shifted a bit, holds a bit more confidence though you flicker away from his gaze after a few seconds as you look over at Bucky.

“Bucky you could buy Ellie’s drink on my behalf. You know, for being so rude to me earlier.”

Bucky shoots you a sly smile, eyes flickering over to your smaller friend who is just shades red, already under the influence of his friend. Not like Bucky can notice. He’s too busy looking at everything but, responding back to you,

“You’re a demanding one. But if it means I can get you’re beautiful friend a drink….why not?”

“Oh boy……” Ellie’s voice is low as she grabs her water, taking a long sip as you move to signal the waitress.

“In the meantime,” Nel says, eyeing the four of them. “I’m Nel. Dearest friend of Ellie and Ariadne and fellow curator at a nice little art museum downtown otherwise known as The Met. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that my beautiful friend Ariadne tells me you’re quite the artist Captain.”

Your hands are quick as you jab his arm, causing Nel to furrow his eyebrows together and mutter, “Ow” under his breath.

“Did she?” Steve’s eyes flicker back to you as you shrug, keeping your eyes trained on the waiter.

“Don’t be surprised Steve,” a moment where your eyes flicker back to him. “You heard my thoughts on your painting, I can’t deny that. It really is good…..I enjoy it. I think others would too.”

Steve eyes don’t deviate from you as Nel says,

“Ariadne has quite the little eye and I trust when she’s impressed by a piece. Takes a whole lot to impress her.”

Another quick slap by you, but it doesn’t dissuade Nel.

“So how about it. Can I buy your little masterpiece to display in my gallery?”

Steve shifts, his eyes flickering back to you as you give a relieved smile. He focuses on the waitress’s feet bringing her over, the sound of Ella Fitzgerald over the loudspeaker, the way you move your hand around your water glass. Nel’s waiting for an answer as Sam watches in amusement and you do everything but make eye contact with him.

“I’ll think about it.” He finally says, looking over at Nel. “I don’t normally care to get my stuff out in the public ….you know I like displaying them in places they’ll be forgotten. But I’m sure the right person could persuade me.”

You falter in your movement, hooded eyes looking up at him as he turns right on cue as the waiter asks,

“Ladies and gentleman you have company tonight. Handsome company,” she winks at Sam before asking, “What can I get you?”

You all order with ease, the waitress easily taking your orders and leaving before Nel wraps an arm around you and smiles,

“Well Ariadne – work your magic,” his eyes flicker back to Steve. “I don’t know by what means you wish to be persuaded, but my dearest friend does have a talented way with that tongue of hers I’ve been told.”

You jab your elbow into his rib cage, hitting him hard between bone and muscle as you say,

“Actually, I thought it’d be fun if we let Ellie do a tarot card reading.”

“Fucking hell….” Nel groans as he bends over and rests his head on the table, Ellie breaking her eye contact from the Bucky as she stammers out,

“What?”

“You bought your tarot cards,” you say, taking another long sip with your straw. He hated that Nel had brought attention to your mouth, he can’t help but be distracted by the way it envelops the plastic device, your tongue moving the straw up and down as you delicately sip up water.

Oh boy.

You might ruin him for 100 years more.

“Sure.” He says, returning his eyes back to your own. “Sounds like fun.”

The cards don’t last long. Ellie starts off with Bucky, upon your insistence and they get caught up in a slow back and forth. This causes Sam to steal Nel’s attention, babying the man’s aching ribs as they dive into conversation. It leaves him staring across at you as you drum your fingers against the table, your chin cupped in your hand.

“You promised a tarot reading.” He finally says and it causes you to laugh and shrug as you point over at Ellie and Bucky, who have moved on from the cards entirely and were deep into whatever topic they were on.

“Blame her.”

He laughs and nods, wishing he was closer to you. Jealous of his colleagues advantages.

“I would but I don’t want to get on your bad side.”

You smile, your eyes teasing as you slowly start to grab the cards from the ruffled deck Ellie has spread out in front of her, not driving any attention to yourself.

“Well….we’re stuck in the middle of two intense conversations and my martini is starting to flow out of my veins so I’ll uphold this promise and see what the cards read for you Mr. Rogers.”

You shuffle them in your hand, biting your bottom lip again and he wonders if it’s a nervous tick or something you do when you’re concentrating on something.

“I’m not as good as Ellie.” you say, flashing your eyes back up to him and he smiles at you gently, shifting his drink a bit so he can lean over to the table. Closer to you. He can capture your perfume you again, soft vanilla that emits off the pulse point of your neck and he chokes down the groan that wants to escape out of him.

He’d love to taste that smell.

“I doubt that. You are very impressive.”

You flicker your eyes back up at him,

“You have a bad habit of thinking you know people. How do you know how impressive I am?”

He shrugs, leaning into the table more. Wanting to get closer to you,

“What do you know about tarot cards?”

You look up at him carefully, your hands never moving from the shuffling movement,

“Not a lot……Ellie’s uses them because her grandmother uses them and so on and so forth. I looked into it and while it was originally used to play trionfi, an older Roman game, it was much later that they used it to how we use it today….” You look up at him as he gives you a short smile and you roll your eyes, reaching over the table to playfully push his shoulders. He likes the movement that you’ve relaxed enough to kid with him.

“Okay wise guy I’m a journalist – I research things all the time. It’s my job. I like to learn and understand the things that I participate in. Sue me.”

“It wasn’t meant to offend.” He says softly and you look up at him, your eyes softer.

“I know,” you both pause, staring at each other and he wonders if you would mind if he could spend the next few hours, days, months….years allowing him to stare into your eyes. “So…..what I’m going to do….I think…is find my inner energy.”

He watches as you knock on the cards, giving a deep breath before you spread it in front of him. You furrow your eyebrows before raising both and look up at him,

“Okay, what Ellie always tells us is that we choose the cards we are drawn to.”

“Is there a certain amount?”

You think about it before shrugging,

“No. Sometimes I want to pull one. Sometimes seven. Just depends on my mood that day. What the universe is calling to my spirit.”

He raises an eyebrow and you laugh, taking a sip of your martini.

“What!? C’mon – choose your cards.”

He chuckles, his hand dancing across the deck until he pulls one. You look over at it and smile,

“Great I know this one! Swords…hmmmm I know this has to do with power and courage and ambition which makes sense as you are Captain America.”

He nods, his fingers grazing another and flipping it over,

“Ok…..I feel like Nel gets this one a lot,” you bite your tongue and he notes that it’s a concentrating tick that you default too. He likes its. “The high priestess. It means you’re in touch with your feminine side,” you wiggle your eyebrows and he laughs, “really, this is reversed so it means that you might be shielding yourself from it. Disconnected, secretive. Denying yourself something. Ring any bells?”

He furrows his eyes looking at, thinking to himself and you laugh, pushing him lightly. The movement causes him to watch your hand as it falls on his shoulder, the way it lingers there before he looks over at you,

“I actually see what it means. Steve Rogers needs to stop taking himself so seriously.”

Your voice is mocking, teasing and he shakes his head, moving into you. Liking that your opening up.

“Ok…..one more,” he grabs a card and you look down, nodding your head trying to read it.

“The cups….ummm….I think this is….”

You’re leaning in closer, scrutinizing it and he was sure that if minds moved like a clock, ticking endlessly he could hear yours as your martini sloshed in its glass. Your close enough he can feel your hair tickle his forehead, has a vantage view down your shirt and he turns to look away in time to see Ellie’s eyes widen. He thinks that it’s her realizing that maybe he did happen to glimmer a bit of your breast before deciding to look away and he can feel his face heat up in shame as she says,

“Ooo Steve, the two of cups! That’s special,” she moves away from Bucky, much to his displeasure as she looks over his deck. “hmmm you’re complicated Steve Rogers. You’re hiding a lot but also…I think there might be a bit of hope for you. And you obviously want to invite light into your darkness. Two cups represent the flow of love between two people……or to put it frankly, the blossoming of a new relationship. Which feels appropriate considering…”

Her eyes flash between the both of you, a large grin on her face as you and Steve eye each other. From this angle he can see how your dimples dig into your face, as your eyes flicker downward, playing with your glass.

“I need to go to the bathroom!” You say suddenly, placing it down and pushing at Ellie who furrows her eye together.

“We both do…..we need to go to the bathroom. We’ll be back.”

The look on your face is different and he’s worried he’s offended you, that you had genuinely only invited him as a friend as you bully Bucky to ease out of the booth, pushing Ellie out as you glide out, grabbing her hand and moving through the crowd.

“…..you couldn’t figure out how to charm her for another ten minutes. Ten minutes and I could’ve gotten Ellie’s number.”

Bucky’s voice is annoyed, irritable and Steve sighs, placing his head in his hands.

“I didn’t do anything but draw some stupid cards! Ellie was the one who exposed me!”

“Don’t blame Ellie because you couldn’t follow up afterwards and come up with some cheesy fucking line.” Bucky crosses his arms, taking a seat looking over at Sam and Nel who are watching in amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself Steve. Ariadne never reads anyone’s cards….she wouldn’t even do Ellie’s and mine for a long time and she was more than willing to jump into yours. Alcohol or no…I think she’s just freaked out more that you…..pull out a different side of her.” Nel finally says and Steve looks over at him,

“You think?”

Nel shrugs,

“Maybe….or maybe not. Who knows, I’m drinking gin and sometimes I say shit that doesn’t make sense when I have gin in my system.”

Sam laughs, causing Steve to groan and Bucky to roll his eyes,

“I’m kicking your ass tomorrow anyways. For ruining my chances of getting a number.”

Steve doesn’t say anything but sits back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. Part of him wanted to escape, to get up and leave and forget this exchange has ever happened. But he already knows that the moment he leaves, that the moment that he walks out of the theater his mind will already flash to this moment. To what your face might look like upon realizing that he’s left, abandoned you and he wondered if disappointment would etch your features or relief.

That kind of possibility, that little floating idea of what if, that was something that would hurt Steve more than the actual knowledge of knowing if you reject him.

He doesn’t have a chance to second guess himself, again, because just as soon as you and Ellie have left you’ve returned.

“Ok, well I drank too much and I have a long day and I gotta work tomorrow so I’m going to head home.”

You say it all as one sentence, breathy and heady as you flash your eyes over at Steve before returning them to the group. Nel furrows his eyebrows, disappointment dripping in his voice as he says,

“Noooooo”

“Really drama king,” you say, grabbing your shawl as you wrap it around you. “Stay. Drink. Really, don’t stop on my behalf.”

Ellie’s biting her lip, her eyes flashing between you and Bucky before she sighs and nods,

“Are you sure. I could leave….” She looks over at Bucky one last time and you give her shoulder a squeeze before saying with a smile,

“Stay El. I’ll see you at home. Have fun – it’s been a long week. You deserve it.”

Nel sighs as he grabs your purse, throwing the tarot cards inside before grabbing your phone and handing them back to you before looking at Steve. He knows what those dark irises are saying. Take the opportunity idiot and walk her home. It’s what he was thinking of course, he wasn’t going to let you walk home alone, but there seems to be something more attached.

“I can take you home.”

Steve’s voice echoes among the table as you pause, your hand freezing from placing the phone in your bag before you say.

“Ok.”

It’s colder when you both step out into the Harlem air, and you instinctively tighten the shawl around you, the light material doing nothing for the shiver that spreads across your arms.

“Here,” Steve says, taking off his jacket. “Take this.”

You’re already shaking your head,

“It’s cold Steve and I was the fool that didn’t bring a heavier jacket.”

He smiles, pushing the last sleeve off before he’s placing it over your shoulders, his arms brushing against your own,

“I’m a super soldier. My blood tends to run warm, whether I care for it or not. I insist you take it. Besides,” he stuffs his hands into his pockets, “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Don’t ruin it for me.”

You laugh but nod, burrowing yourself into it more much to his pleasure.

“Well you don’t have to take me all the way home. It’s not too late to take the subway and I’ll be fine.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows together, looking down at you,

“I’m not going to let you take a subway, after the sun has set, alone from Harlem to Queens.”

You scoff and look at him,

“Okay Captain America. I’m a big girl. I’ve done it plenty of times and will do it plenty of times after. I survived then and I will probably continue to.”

He can’t help his jaw from setting, the way his hands dig deeper into his pockets as he follows you silently down the few blocks to the subway. He doesn’t notice the speculative way you watch him as his mind digs deeper into itself, curious to understand what would make any woman brave or stupid enough to take the subway so late from one part of the city to the other.  

“Listen you can silently pout or whatever but I don’t get the luxury like most women to have men like you offer to walk me home every time I go out. And listen I’m smart and safe. I carry a taser and mace and don’t make eye contact and go to kickboxing twice a week. You don’t need to….eternally beat yourself up for it.”

It’s your voice that cuts off his thinking, watching you scurry down the subway stairs with ease.

You. You were the kind of woman who would jump into danger without a second thought.

“I’m not pouting,” he says after you, catching up with you with ease as you walk to the turn stalls, “I’m trying to understand the kind of woman who would be stupid enough to invite danger into her world.”

He can’t ignore the offended way you scoff at him, before playfully pushing into him,

“Says the man who was always starting a fight. I’ve read your biography at the Smithsonian. You were always the one starting something before you got all that super juice pumped in you. And now you’re even more stupid because you’re damn near invincible. Who willing goes to fight aliens, ALIENS, without thinking twice? Good of humanity or not, there should be some second thought that runs through that handsome noggin of yours. But nope, not what I’ve heard from people. You just jump in, feet first, consequences be damned, your life be damned for the sake of good. So don’t sass me about stupid choices Captain Rogers.”

You swipe your card, walking through and he furrows his eyebrows, grabbing his card and doing the same. You raise an eyebrow and you shrug,

“…..though you gain some points for carrying a metro card.”

He laugh as he walks beside you again, slowly before you both make it to the train platform. The E was behind, he could tell by the restlessness stirring in the air with the few people waiting for it so he returns his attention back to you,

“Sometimes you gotta jump in. Because if you don’t, people get killed. People who can’t’ defend themselves from things that most humans wouldn’t have to see. From things that you only read about. And if I have the power to change it…why not?”

“Because,” you sigh, looking over at him. “It’s reckless. Reckless.”

He looks at you pointedly, before looking around the subway.

“Riding the subway at this hour….damn near midnight by yourself with god know what perverts doesn’t feel reckless to you as a single woman?”

You sigh as you dig your hands into his jacket pockets, pulling it closer to you,

“What do you want me to say? That sure I’m a journalist, a really good one I'd argue but I still gotta have a roommate because real estate prices in this city are goddamn ridiculous and sometimes you have to sacrifice safety for groceries and paying the light bill and so you do stupid reckless things in exchange for livelihood and pray for the best? Because being a brave badass just sounds better in my book.”

Your voice is low as you look down the large passage to where the train should be, he can feel the shame in each word, the embarrassment and he realizes that he subconsciously hit a nerve. You’ve got your guard up again, he can feel the walls being built and he walks toward you, cupping your face and tilting it toward him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…..I shouldn’t have pried you’re right. I know it may not seem like it, but I wasn’t always this….you know Captain America who was friends to one of the richest men on the planet. I get it….I get doing things in order to be able to survive. But the thought of you making this kind of commute, alone….it tears at my core. Because you deserve safety every day of your life.”

Perhaps it’s the hour, the tension that’s been building up for hours that lends way to this honesty. He feels embarrassed immediately after, like it was too personable to say to you in the first place, that he should have respected your distance. But he also didn’t like the idea of knowing that you were okay with risking your life in order to get by.

You were worth far more than that.

Time stops again, the both of you looking at the other before the train speeds away, causing a huge gust of piss smelling warm wind to also fly by along with the sound of metal on metal as it screeches to a stop. You both scrunch your noses, before you blink and pull away from him, moving to find a seat inside the metal compartment.  The first part of the ride is spent in silence as he sits near you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he side eyes the patrons on the car. When you both switch to the D line, you’ve both relaxed a bit and end up laughing about the wildest things you’ve seen in a subway, talking about the first time you commuted alone in the big city, Steve talking through what it felt like to walk through it now.

He almost forgets that he’s taking you home before he finds himself walking beside you down a quiet block, old houses peppering the long, narrow street.

“I miss streets like these.” He says quietly, his hands back in his pockets. You’ve hooked your right arm in his left, he doesn’t know when but he likes knowing how near you are, that you’ve found safety in him.

“They’re still here. They just look a lot differently.”

“Yea,” his voice is quiet as he sighs, “It’s just not the same. Doesn’t capture that spirit of family unity. Different people who all have different paths that are just trying to make it. Building community. Now it's Starbucks and ballet workout studios and those hipster guys with their vegan restaurants. Cheap homes built after cheap homes sandwiched between the two.”

You laugh, the sound resonates in the air and pierces into the faint sound of the city as you nod,

“Yea…this decade kinda bites.”

You’re both silent as you finally pull him off course, toward a small family home. The grass is green in the small lawn you direct him to despite it being autumn and there’s a large maple tree that’s littered its leaves on top of the greenery. The driveway holds an old car, a Chevy though he can’t make out the year in the dim lighting and the porch light is on though the rest of the house sleeps in darkness. The weathered mat on the top of the stairs reads, “Oh Shit Not You Again” and there’s a Halloween wreath on the door.  

It’s clean and organized and looks like the kind of place Ellie and you would live in.

“This is me,” you say as you hesitantly pull from his embrace, move up the few stairs to the small patio. He stands at the bottom, watching you as you turn, fidgeting with your keys, “Thanks for walking me home. I know sometimes I put on a big flare of being a big girl but…it was nice feeling safe getting home for once.”

He nods, watching you carefully. This was the part where he’d normally say something classic and cheesy, sweet enough to convince the woman to let him in. And god does he want you to invite him in. The porch light is hitting you perfectly, shadows hitting all the best features of your face as your eyes glisten down at him, innocent and nervousness intertwined in one. Those lips are so plump from your constant biting, all he wants to do is taste you. But he knows if he allows it, that he caves into his desires he’d lose something more important from you. He wants more than just a night with you. He wants the possibility of all the nights with you.

That realization causes him to sigh to himself, to keep his hands in his pockets as he responds lamely instead,

“It was nothing. Wouldn’t be Captain America if I didn’t walk a beautiful lady home.”

You smile at him, one that’s all teeth and tugs your right dimple to dig deep into your cheek as you nod,

“Okay well then…..good night.”

He’s sure that you’ve both froze time staring at each other tonight, trying to get a read, to make a move and it’s you that finally mutters,

“Fuck it all.”

He has fast instincts, his body typically can react to movement without a beat but when you press your lips on his cheeks, cold and chapped from the wind hitting them he freezes for just the smallest seconds. It takes his mind a minute to register before his hands find your hips and you pull away, your hands skimming across the broadness of his shoulders and he feels his breath hitch.

Fuck you were trouble.

And he knows if he doesn’t do something, he’ll regret it.

He’s lived in regret too much to have to live it in again.

“You wouldn’t mind if I asked you for your number, would you?”

He hates how weak the question comes out, that his voice is shaky and uncertain and he thinks you’re going to say no.

But then you smile and nod, your voice low as you ask,

“Yes, of course. Let me see your phone.”

He furrows his eyes together and you chuckle and laugh, nodding.

“Right. You probably don’t carry a smart phone with you…..or any phone?”

Your voice is uncertain as he shrugs, laughing as he takes one of his hands away from your hips and throwing it behind his neck,

“Sam and Bucky and Tony keep badgering me about it but…..my flip phone does its job. I can put it in there. When I get back to the tower….”

Now he understood why this could be embarrassing for this type of situation. All those years from Tony’s badgering and finally it clicks. Great.

“You’re right, you can,” you say in agreement as you dig in your bag, grabbing one of the free tarot cards floating around and finding a loose pen. “So I’ll just write down my cell phone number and I’ll look out for a text. Or a call. Or whatever it is you do.”

He doesn’t realize until much later, when he’s smiling to himself in his room, trying to figure out where to take you out to first that it’s the same card that drove you away.

Two silver chalices that gleam with your name and number.

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[aussiekirkland]

My Weight Loss Journey (Long Post)

So it's been a whole year since I finished my weight loss journey and I wanted to share with you guys the mentality behind my goals as well as how that affected my interactions with others. I was watching @ashhardell's latest vlog where she talks about her weight loss journey video she's making and she discussed some of her strategies. - Eating healthy: either she wasn't counting calories or maybe she didn't put a huge emphasis on it, I'm not sure - Feeling good: not weighing herself and making it about looking and feeling good And while this is awesome, and it works for a lot of people it just doesn't work for me. A year ago I was honestly dreadful at making goals and sticking to them and I remembered workshops we took in year 12 on goal setting. It was important to have concrete and measurable goals, so you could easily see your progress (which I find pretty motivating) as well as having a specific time frame (which also helps motivate me). I still struggle with motivation and I think the main thing that finally got me going was to do it for myself. I want this body and I'm going to get it. I'm going to do it my way, and fuck what anyone says! Doing things out of spite of others who don't believe in you is the easiest way to get me to do things (more on that later). So I gave myself a number: 10kg. (I was overweight at the time, and my current weight still places me smack in the middle of the healthy weight range, in case you were wondering). I also had a daily calorie intake that started at 1000 calories then fluctuated between that and 1200 because I can't make decisions. My timeframe was by the time I started at WAAPA last year. I had 3 months to lose 10kg and with the help of my mum I set realistic and safe goals. While I wasn't eating healthy at first, I learnt how to get around a low calorie diet and found that with a few staples I could have sizeable portions while staying at a low calorie intake. This was important to me because while I had the most motivation I had in a long time, it was nowhere near enough to will me to exercise. I accepted that and did it my way. I sat on my ass and ate my daily metabolic rate. So while this became a lot easier to do at home (which was why I did it over the summer holidays) progress was slow. It was over a month before I saw any progress, which made the next part a lot more difficult for me: leavers. I spent a week with my so called "friends" to celebrate finishing school, and my god do other people eat a lot! Not only were their portion sizes ridiculous, but it was all the bad stuff. All the bread. All the cheese. All the red meat. I had mentioned to the girl organising the trip that I was on a diet and I was deadly serious about it. That because I hadn't seen any progress yet there was no room for a loose week. She assured me that her family ate healthy (I now despise that word) and so I went. It started with the portion sizes. Not wanting to eat as much as everyone else (which wasn't even a diet thing, seriously they ate so much) became the new topic of conversation. Having the girl's mum cook and SERVE US just brought so much attention to "and half for Dee". I ended up having to explain myself to these "friends" and was ridiculed for a week straight. Every time I explained what I was doing I was lectured about eating "healthy" and exercising. Calories apparently meant nothing, and you could pig out on as much as you want as long as you went for a measly walk. As someone who had been overweight my entire life I knew this wasn't true and had finally stopped myself from thinking like that and wasn't having a bar of it. These girls who had always been skinny (I knew them for a long time) were lecturing me on something they had zero experience with. They told me what I was doing wouldn't work but I thought screw the lot of you, just you wait and see. The following month my metabolism finally caught up with me and I had lost about 5kg. You could already see the difference, and I had even bought some new clothes for summer. I went to graduation being rather proud of my progress but of course none of these idiots noticed. Fast forward about six months and one of the girls who had went on this trip (and wasn't a stick like the rest of them) was asking me for dieting advice. Fucking fabulous, the girl who had given me the most shit finally realised that what I had done worked and now she wants advice!?!? Even now when I spend time in social groups and I voice my concern about what I'm eating I'm ridiculed for not knowing anything. Just last week a different set of girls was lecturing me on how I'm skinny so how would I know, knowing full well how big I was when I was at school. The moral of the story is that there are a lot of things that we do in life that people give us shit for. Learning to do things for myself, regardless of what others think is socially acceptable puts me in the social spotlight for ridicule and interrogation. Learning to deal with that has been my key to happiness, and losing 10kg was just the beginning of my new mentality.