#i didn’t think i’d ever ever put replay by shinee in one of these playlists bc of everything that that song means to me

[acebytaemin]

hiii ana 🥰 pretty please could I have a playlist? (it'll be nice and short 😂) ru 😘

of courseeee always my ru 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

R - replay by shinee

U - U R by taeyeon (both the letters in one song hehe)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Seven

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 7: Bi Association

Chapter Summary: An accidental assumption leads to an emotional conversation. Being disasters is both a good and terrible thing to have in common.

Chapter Warnings: Talk of coming out, mentions of homophobia, mentions of past Steve/Bucky and past Steve/Peggy

Chapter Word Count: 3669

A/N: So at the beginning of the story I warned Reader/OFC is very definitely bisexual and that really comes into play here. I think this chapter was one of the ones that pushed me to keep OFC as an option for this story because coming out (or not) is a really personal thing. ‘Not all bi folk’ and whatnot. Otherwise, please enjoy these two doofs being terrible with real actual Emotions.

    Job hunting was annoying, but surprisingly fruitful.

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Why?” I asked and looked at him.

“Your playlists are a little…” He gave the next word a lot of thought. “…Heavy. Lately.”

Poor sweet summer child, I thought. Apparently Lamb of God had taught him nothing. “You said you like Rise Against.”

“I do.”

“So we’re branching out,” I said and went back to my doodling. “Slowly but surely, we’ll get you to branch out even more.”

“I guess– wait. ‘Slowly?’”

“How about you?” I asked, focused on my crummy little tree. “You’ve been a little out of it this week.”

I thought he’d brush me off. Instead I got silence. I lifted my head again and did a double-take at the way he stared at…well, nothing that I could see. After a few seconds he shook it off– literally. “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t you have to go soon?”

I frowned at him. “If you don’t want to talk about it it’s okay; you don’t have to–” I caught sight of my phone and the clock numbers thereon. I jumped up. “Fuck!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he said calmly, and he held onto the rickety table while I threw my shit together. “It seems like you’re more reluctant to go back to work these days.”

Of course he noticed. But then, it was hard to be subtle when I dreaded ever seeing my boss in fear of him asking about how ‘It’ was going. I sighed, slung my bag on my shoulder, and faced Steve. “Work is…work. It gets like this sometimes.” I shrugged like it was nothing. “So if you’re ever looking for someone willing to be chucked at an evil alien or something…”

“I have your number,” he said, smiling at me, and I saluted and ran out.

~

There wasn’t much smiling over the next few days. For either of us. On at least two of those days I was setting up follow-ups and moping about being rejected from the perfect job. And on a day after that I went through most of my lunch break before I noticed that I had hardly spoken to Steve at all.

I then noticed that he was abnormally silent. He sat with his back even closer to the wall and had his sketchbook tilted up so that he was ensconced in his own little world. I watched him for a while. He ignored me and showed an unnerving lack of emotion. No concentrated frown or unhappy scowl, just…nothing.

“Hey,” I said gently. His hand slowed to a stop and after a deep breath he looked at me. Under such a dead stare I almost floundered– was it really my business?– but I managed to spit out, “Are you…okay?”

I should have asked him how he was but that was a mistake I realized too late. “Yes. I’m fine,” he said and went back to his dead-faced drawing.

I didn’t know how to follow up and it was very blatant that he didn’t want me to, so I went to put my second earbud in.

“But…thanks for asking.”

I hesitated but Steve showed no physical sign of having said anything. But just the words, even flat as they were, made me breathe a sigh of relief as I put my headphones in. Something was better than nothing.

~

We went through the same routine for the next several days. The next time I came in after that, though, he was sitting with a book, his sketchpad shut and sitting next to him, and at least an inch between his back and the wall.

Still, I was wary. “Hey,” I said as I sat down.

“Hi.”

He sounded…not normal, but not bad. Not exactly. Distant, sort of, in a way that I didn’t know if talking to him would be bothering him. But then his eyes flicked up and I tried to think of something to say. An apology for staring would have been nice, but a coherent string of non-creepy words didn’t make it from my brain to my mouth.

“I, um…” I held back a sigh and tried to think, damn it. It took me a bit but Steve waited patiently for me to spit it out. “I know I keep asking how you’re doing, and I-I don’t want to be annoying, so I’m– I’m fine to keep asking, if that’s okay with you, but…but it’s okay if you don’t want me to keep asking. I won’t be offended.”

He gave that some thought. “Is it selfish that I like being asked even though I don’t really want to answer?” he said at last.

“Personally I don’t think so,” I said. “But I also don’t think it’s bad to be a little selfish sometimes.” If he did, I didn’t know why in the world he ever associated with me.

His smile was small and sad. “I’m more selfish than most people want to believe.”

“Everyone is,” I said. “I know it might not be comforting, but…at least you're not alone?”

“In some ways,” he said, staring at his sketchbook. He rested his hand on it, slightly curved and gentle fingertips moving over it with short, light, absent strokes.

I was curious but I didn’t want to ask. Well, not directly. “Are you working on a project?”

He glanced at me and then looked back down at it. And kept looking.

“If you want to tell me to butt out–”

“I don’t.”

I shut up. Steve looked around the shop like he was checking for lurkers and eavesdroppers, but there was no one even close that I could see. He beckoned me to come closer so I hopped over to the chair next to him and scooted in.

He opened up his book to a portrait that was downright breathtaking. A man’s face was lovingly rendered in a mix of pencil and ink, and while the style was similar to Steve’s other drawings, it was so incredibly different just in the obvious amount of time and care spent on it.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve murmured, moving his hand to rest right next to the sly smile and fondly shining eyes. “Bucky. He was…my best friend; he was…”

The thing was– I was not completely ignorant of Steve’s past. He had been a very important figure in history: medical miracle, war hero, and walking tragedy. He had never caught my attention because the textbooks always made him sound so noble and red-blooded American male and boring. But I’d had a classmate-kind-of-friend who had been obsessed with him for a period of time and so I knew some things just by osmosis.

I had thought that, at least, but I really should have considered the source that information had come from. Anything school had fed me had gone in one ear and out the other but my sorta-friend had, at one point, gotten my attention with an aside about Steve likely being involved with his ‘best friend’ Bucky. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time beyond ‘good for him’ but years of being (lurking) in certain communities on the internet had really made it seem like a true-but-generally-unspoken thing. That, and the fact that he had said nothing because he was too busy stroking the drawing, made it pretty damn clear to me.

So I thought nothing of it when I tried to fill in the blank with, “Your boyfriend?”

It was…the absolute wrong thing to say.

Steve’s head snapped up and his face changed through expressions almost too fast to name– shock was one, anger was another, then–

“What did you say?”

His voice was not stern, or scolding, or panicked. It was…chilling. I didn’t know what the hell to make of it, but it scared me. I couldn’t even swallow, my mouth was so dry. “I–I’m sorry; I didn’t–”

He leaned in close. I leaned back, but I could only go so far. “Where did you hear that?” he said low and glanced around the room.

I became vaguely aware of the world around us and, thankfully, we were completely unnoticed. I breathed a sigh of relief but I still felt shaky. The guy could give a death stare like no one’s business. “It’s okay, no one heard–”

“Where?!”

I didn’t know how to answer that, though I scrambled to try, only to be cut off by the buzzing alarm on my phone. I cringed and tried to shut it up. I’d rather be late for my crappy job than leave things like this. “I– S-so I–”

“Go.”

Steve’s voice was dispassionate and calm and he sat back in his seat. He kept his eyes on the table and his hand lay flat on the sketchbook’s cover. I was frozen, stunned by his coldness, but he ignored me. I packed up, feeling sick and miserable, but before I left I stopped and tried to apologize. He glared at me with eyes that looked full of hurt, so I tucked my tail between my legs and ran.

~

It was evening and I was just settling in to be sad and pathetic and rue the day I ever spoke to anyone ever when my phone alerted me to a message. Only one person texted me without calling first, and after going through my work day in a state of constant near-tears while I replayed that moment over and over in my head, I was too fucking tired to deal with him just yet.

My phone buzzed again though. And again. On the way off-chance that it was my boss with a work emergency, I reached out from the Blanket Pit of Misery to grab my phone from the coffee table. I almost wished it was my boss when I saw Steve’s name.

However.

Steve: This is going to sound forward Steve: But can I come over? Steve: Or can you come to my place

I raised both eyebrows. Thankfully, the next parts came quick.

Steve: I’m sorry for today Steve: And this conversation shouldn’t happen in text Steve: Or public

I sat up and stared at the screen. On one hand: ‘I’m sorry’. On the other hand: an in-person conversation. Ugh.

Me: I don’t want to fight

His response was immediate and came in a flood.

Steve: We won’t Steve: I promise Steve: I didn’t mean it; I panicked Steve: And I’m sure you already figured out why Steve: But I need to explain it Steve: Please

I was really tired. But I knew that panic.

Me: How the hell do you text so fast

I sent him my address and spent his travel time trying not to freak out. When he knocked, I started to freak out about the mess. I shoved the blankets to the corner of the couch and grabbed empty cups to dump in the kitchen sink on my way to the door. I then stood there for a second to give myself a once-over– lounging clothes, but clean, and I was mostly decent, so I opened the door before I could chicken out. Steve’s eyes were cast down and he was hunched over into his usual brown leather jacket. He lifted his head in my general direction but didn’t really look at me but for occasional glances. He looked about how I felt.

“I guess misery doesn’t love company,” he said lightly.

I rolled my eyes and stepped back so he could step in. “You're not nearly sadistic enough to know,” I said and shut the door behind him. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No thanks. I think I’m going to throw up.”

I had been going to the fridge but at that I stopped and turned to face him. Steve was still hunched and seemed to be shrinking more with every second. I took a step forward and stopped when he flinched. “Hey,” I said gently. “It’s not the 40’s anymore; I’m not going to turn you in.”

“Don’t joke about that,” he muttered.

“I’m not!”

I hadn’t meant to be so loud– even Steve looked surprised enough to have a spark of life again. But he was standing up and I had his attention, so I ran with it. “I wasn’t making a joke of it before and I’m not making a joke of it now,” I said, because I had to make him understand. Somehow.

“I know you weren't joking before.” He fell back onto the couch, which creaked. “It made it…worse.”

I opened my mouth but he held up his hand. I waited, but when he took longer to compose himself I slowly walked over and perched on the edge of the other end of the couch. I felt so stiff I probably would have been more comfortable if I had remained standing, but the silence was so absolute that getting up would be too disruptive.

“Some people knew,” he said, so softly that I leaned in closer on instinct. He raised his voice a little. “Nobody talked about it. Ever. We were…as careful as you possibly could be when you love someone that much.”

He didn’t look at me. I didn’t move. I wanted to…reach out, put an arm around him, do something, but I didn’t know if we were quite there yet. Or if he was okay with being touched at all.

“Peggy definitely knew,” Steve said, staring at the floor but obviously not staring at the floor. “And after Bucky…fell…she–”

Steve turned his face away and wiped it. I scooted closer and put my hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away, so I stayed, but I was stock-still, afraid that if I moved an inch in either direction he’d push or pull or run.

He faced forward again with a dry face and his throat pulsed with his swallow. “I loved her too,” Steve said. “I could have– if I had made it out, we could have been happy, you know?” His smile was sad and wistful and his eyes shone just a little too bright. “I like to think so, anyway. Peggy was never disturbed by it. Sometimes even made some comments that, I think, if we had all made it out…”

He shook his head and got to his feet. “Bisexual,” he blurted out. He kept his back to me and barely glanced back. “I like that; it– it suits me. I think.” He turned to face me. “But I’m not…out. Obviously.”

I nodded. My heart was racing and the more he stared at me the harder it hit my chest, the harder it was to say something. But he took a slow step back, said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–” and then he stared to leave and I couldn’t, I couldn’t leave that there. No matter what it meant for me.

“I’m not out either!”

He stopped right at the door. I was almost not breathing when he looked at me sharply, but apparently having very obvious heart failure attested to my earnestness, because his eyes widened and his hand slipped from the knob. I swallowed and sympathized with how he’d had such a hard time with it. I felt like I was swallowing an egg-sized rock. But then he was utterly silent, so I asked, “Well? Does misery love company now?”

He flinched. “That’s not something to be miserable about.”

I shrugged, because that was easy to say, wasn’t it? He shifted from one foot to the other and looked extremely uncomfortable. It took me a moment to realize why that might be. “Yes,” I said and he nearly jumped. “We can be closeted bi besties.”

“I didn’t…mean to make you come out. I just–” He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.”

“Just right now?” I asked. He actually made a sound that was kind of like a laugh. I sighed. I felt almost completely drained, but at least the hard part was done and over. “Take off your jacket and sit down,” I said and went to the fridge. “I don’t want you to break down in a cab or something.”

“I drove.” But Steve shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the coffee table as he sat back on the couch. “Motorcycle.”

“Even worse.” I brought back two water bottles and set one in front of him before I dropped onto the cushion right next to him. “I’m not gonna be the last person to see you before you wrap yourself around a pole.”

“I’d survive it.”

That was way too flippant and I couldn’t be trusted to touch it without also getting darker than I felt comfortable with. “Well, I’m sure you have a nice bike that doesn’t deserve that.”

We both sat in awkward silence. He picked at the paper wrapping and I chewed on the bottle rim, occasionally consuming some water by accident just because the damn thing was so full. “I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly. “That could have gone better.”

I put the bottle down. “Coming out is always awkward.”

“Even for you?” he asked and lowered his voice for, “Even now?”

“There’s always going to be someone, always,” I said. “And some that do it because, uh…they care, and they think it’s safer if you just… But– the times I’ve come out, I don’t regret it. Even when it blew up in my face. I never– I just don’t trust people, and sometimes I’m scared of what that makes me, of how detached I get, in the interest of keeping myself safe. I’m glad that, sometimes, even I can still trust people. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

I didn’t really expect anything, but of everything, I really didn’t expect Steve to turn his body and hug me so suddenly I went “oof!” He didn’t hold tight though, so I crossed my arm over to my shoulder to pat his hands awkwardly. And then, because he was hugging from my side and I couldn’t really return the gesture, I slipped my other arm around his back.

“Me too,” he said and let me go. “I’m…glad you can trust me with that.”

“Same,” I said. “Even if it was unintentional. I’m sorry; even if I was right I shouldn’t have said it like that. I know how that heart attack feels, so– I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he said. He still sounded utterly miserable though.

I nudged him. “I promise I won’t say anything. It’s no one’s fucking business, right?”

He breathed. “In theory,” he said. He lifted his head and stared at nothing. “I’m going to have to make it be, though.”

Considering the guy couldn’t come out to defenseless old ‘tries not to talk to anyone else ever’ me without freaking the fuck out, coming out to the world seemed like a leap. “Why?”

He didn’t answer at first; he just sat there clenching his jaw so hard I was afraid he’d break his teeth. Then he stood up and paced, but from the marching motions it didn’t look like it helped much. Granted, my apartment was only so big and he couldn’t get a good stomp going, but still.

“I wasn’t going to,” he said and stopped. “I thought I could get around it, brush off interview questions and just act stupid. But then…” The muscles in his neck rippled with his swallow. “I was talking to this kid one week. They were so sweet, and they had a– a rainbow flag pin on their bag. I wanted to compliment it, but they saw me looking and covered it up. Then they made some excuse and left.”

He just stood there, but when I tugged at his shirt he plopped right down next to me. “They didn’t want to know,” I said softly, because as much as it sucked for him, I could really sympathize with that kid.

“And I hate it,” Steve spat like he was full of bile. “I hate trying to skirt those questions, I hate that the people who would have beaten me to death before the war look at me like they think I’m on their side; I hate that anybody like me is afraid to ask anything other than ‘are you okay that I exist.’” He sighed. “Most of all, I hate that I’m such a fucking coward I haven’t just said it yet. I need to, for my own sanity, but it’s…terrifying.”

I wished there was something I could say, something smart, or comforting, or even just kind. However I had a big load of nothing, so I just kept my arm around him and hoped it was enough that I was there. I hoped that he knew I understood.

He sat there, silent, but he didn’t leave, and eventually I got an idea. “Hey,” I said and got up. “Since you’re here, come on; I’m gonna show you how to play a video game.”

He didn’t protest, and even let me tug and shove him around until he was sitting on the edge of my bed and holding the controller in his ridiculous bear paws. “Fuck, your hands are big,” I said and eyed them. Maybe this was a bad idea. “You’ve got a gentle touch, right?”

He looked at me and made his lips a flat line. “You’ve seen me use tablets and phones.”

“Okay, point,” I said and settled in as the system loaded.

“I mean, I broke a half dozen of each before I got the hang of it, but I’m sure it won’t take me that many this time.”

I glared at him and he smirked, the little shit. As the starting screen came up I sat back. “Well,” I said. “At least if you break my controller you won’t have to worry about that pesky ‘coming out’ bullshit.”

He laughed.

It was probably good that he thought I was joking.

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[stardusttrashed]

Accidentally in Love Part 6

Part 5

Word Count: 1589

“You know who’d be cute together? Your Aunt May and Happy,” Y/n said in a nonchalant tone as she slung the backpack over a shoulder.

“Y/n-.”

“I’m serious. Oh! We could go on double dates.”

“Please stop,” Peter grumbled as he held the door open for her.

“Holy shit,” Y/n geeked out as the doors closed behind them, completely forgetting about her previous thoughts. “I expected it to be nice and all but- woah.” She ran towards the elevator like a kid running around a toy store. “Come on slowpoke! We don’t wanna miss the sunset.” She let out a huff as Peter exaggerated his slow steps, stopping to pretend to tie his shoes.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Peter pulled the girl glaring at him into his side. He rubbed her arm as he planted a soft kiss on her head, “Y’know I’ve fought a lot of criminals, but they’re nowhere close to being as scary as you are when you're mad.”

“Aw, I’m nowhere near mad, baby,” Y/n chuckled, kissing his jaw.

“Dang, maybe I should let you go beat them up for me then,” Peter laughed. He felt his body finally relax at the sight of her smile. He adored that smile more than anything. It didn’t matter if he was going to be able to see the stars anymore or not, he had the brightest star right next to him.

“Hey Pete,” Y/n whispered as she nuzzled her nose against the crook of his neck. “Careful, I think you’re drooling,” she teased with a quiet giggle.

“Shut up,” he laughed before stepping out of the elevator.

Peter stayed behind as she rushed from window to window, taking out the Polaroid camera he snuck into the backpack. He could hear her rambling, but every word was lost upon him. All he could focus on was that bubbly giggle that made the empty area feel like it was packed. He followed her movements through the small screen, smiling uncontrollably. Every twirl, every ‘look Pete’, he captured every bit so he could replay it later. So he would have her heart-stopping smile even when he was away from her.

“You gonna join me sometime today,” Y/n asked as she posed for another picture against the glass. “I was kinda hoping to spend some time with my amazing boyfriend.”

Peter chuckled and lowered the camera, “I think I can manage that.” Peter sunk his teeth into his lip as he watched her saunter over his way.

“Oh, you thought I meant you,” Y/n laughed as she ran her hands down his shoulders. “I meant my real boyfriend, Spider-Man.” Her touch sent excited shivers down his spine.

“Is that so,” Peter smirked as he resisted to roll his eyes at her. He grazed the tip of her nose with his own, his breath ghosting over her lips. “Cause I just so happen to be a lot cooler than Spider-Man. Not to mention cuter. I mean come on, he could be some old guy in a mask.”

“An old guy with a great butt,” Y/n added cheekily, making him blush darkly. “Almost as great as Cap’s.”

“Why am I dating you again?”

Y/n looked up at him innocently as she rubbed the tip of her nose against his, “cause my wonderful charm and adorable looks?”

Peter chuckled quietly as his eyes dropped down to her lips. “Something like that, my love.” He dipped his head down, slowly melting into the kiss. He loved the feeling of her lips against his. The cloud-like lips he always found himself getting lost in. This time was different, however. He quickly pulled away, attempting to hide the frown forming on his face. His face scrunched up as if he had tasted the worst thing ever.

“P-Pete,” Y/n was barely able to make out. She could already feel her heart wrenching from embarrassment.

“Is that a new lipstick or something?” She quickly shook her head. “M-maybe it’s just me.” He pulled her closer and rested his forehead against her’s, “I’m sorry love. Can we try again?”

“Only cause I like kissing you Parker,” Y/n smiled weakly before kissing him once more, only to have him quickly pull away once more. She played with his curls absentmindedly, the gears in her head quickly turning as she recalled everything she ate during the day. Then it finally dawned on. “Maybe a mint will help,” she suggested as she pulled out a stick of gum from her pocket. She watched as he popped the stick into his mouth, only to let it drop out his mouth like a child a few seconds later. Y/n laughed at his scrunched up face. The way he tried to wipe the taste off his tongue. “Aw, my little spider nerd. Did you know spiders don’t like peppermint?”  

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” he mumbled childishly. Peter took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, “it’s gonna take more than a little peppermint to keep me from kissing you.”

“Oh! Maybe I could start putting a little peppermint oil on my neck and wrist. Get a nice fresh smell y’know,” Y/ n teased him, earning a deadpan glare. “I’m kidding,” she giggled as she pecked his lips before adding under her breath, “for now at least”

“Will you stop ruining our cute moments for just a second,” Peter asked jokingly.

“In exchange for a dance, maybe.”

He subtle smirk made her heart flutter. “Hey Siri, play ‘songs that remind me of lovebug’ playlist.” Wicked Games quietly played, flooding the empty room and cascading off the glass walls. “May I?”

Y/n smiled brightly, the smile reaching her eyes and making them shine brighter than any gem or star Peter could think about. Every time she thought he held every bit of her heart, he’d turn around and do something that makes her fall even deeper in love. She swayed slowly with the boy who seemed too good to be true. The sunset painted the room a colorful ombre of pinks and oranges, creating a soft glow around the two. Even with the beauty forming around them, their eyes were only focused on one another’s. Soaking in the feeling of the beat controlling their bodies. Enjoying the way if the pressed closer they could feel their heartbeats synchronizing.

Quiet moments like these were truly rare. Being alone with others around couldn't compare to now. There were no worries about who may walk in. Or waking someone up. Or being teased by loved ones. It was just them. And if she was being honest, it was kind of overwhelming for Y/n. Being this close to him, having him do whatever he could to see her smile. It all made her want to say those three words, maybe four, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to. As crazy as it seemed to herself, she couldn’t help but worry he may not feel the same way for her.

“Let’s, uh- the stars are finally out.” Peter hummed quietly in response. “Wanna go watch them,” she tried to be more straightforward.

“Yeah, sure. Close your eyes, please,” he spoke softly as he reluctantly let go of her. He waited until her eyes were closed before running off to grab the bag and find a way outside.

Y/n stood there for what felt like ten minutes, listening to his shuffling around as she shifted her weight between her feet. “Follow me,” Peter whispered as he slipped his hands into her’s. He slowly guided her outside, taking extra care to make sure she wouldn’t bump into anything. “Now open.”

The sight of a bed made of webs slung out between the buildings left her speechless. Peter’s cover was draped over the pillow he’d set up. Best of all it allowed them a clear view of all the stars sprinkled in the sky.

“I love y- it,” Y/n quickly caught herself. “I love it.” She paused, still basking in the amazement that he would go to such lengths just for her. She looked over at Peter, a bashful smile plastered on his face and highlighted by his rosy cheeks. “And you. I love you, Peter,” she admitted before she could stop herself. “I love you so much I don’t understand it sometimes, but I do. And it’s totally cool if you don’t want to say it or don’t feel the same way. I just, you do things like this and I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like a princess. And I’m rambling now so I’d really like it if you stopped me or even told me to shut up.”

“Y/n,” Peter spoke up, his voice failing him as a whisper. “Stop talking so I can kiss you, please. ‘Cause it’s kinda hard to kiss you when I don’t want to interrupt your cute rambles.”

Y/n let an audible sigh as he pecked her forehead, then her nose, and onto her cheeks before finally making it onto her lips. His hand gently cupped her cheek while his other hand pulled her closer by the hip, securing her close to him both for her safety and so he could feel her warmth.

“I love you too.”

Her smile grew wider as he leaned down to kiss her again. Every ounce of worry faded away as he picked her up, mumbling those words between every little kiss as he carefully laid her down on the makeshift bed.

[galacticjoelle]

Kiribaku Oneshot/Minific

This was inspired by my most recent post and I hope you guys enjoy it! Note: I’m not the best writer

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Katsuki fell. He fell hard. These foreign feelings finally got through to his thick skull when he and Kirishima were walking to the dorms after training. Kirishima and he had been recently hanging out more often, mostly because Kirishima is fearless and couldn't care less if he was blown to dust. Kiri had always tagged along, usually resulting in Bakugo being dragged somewhere later. This time, Kirishima was begging Bakugo to let him play his music playlist instead of his. Bakugo finally gave in to make kirishima shut up. “FUCKING FINE! Shitty hair...” Bakugo said, snatching his earbuds out of his pocket. Kirishima looked at Bakugo before playing his list and plugging in the red earbud.

Bakugo looked ahead at the road, seeing orange and red leaves coloring the concrete floor. Soon his ears were filled with a soft piano. “The fuck is this sh-” His voice softened as he glanced at Kirishima. Kirishima had the softest smile on his face as the lyrics started. “Fuck.” Bakugo thought. Kirishima began to mumble the words under his breath and Bakugo listened, not to the song. Bakugo’s attention was on Kirishima’s voice. It was soft. Smooth. It wasn’t his usual tone, big, loud. His usual tone was like the bright screaming red of passion. This tone was like the pink in a sunset. Bakugo had to force his gaze back to the ground as he found himself staring for too long. “What the fuck... “ Bakugo felt his throat begin to tighten as he listened on. Kirishima’s voice never skipped a beat. “Love like you…” His voice trailed off. It was so enticing to Bakugo. His breath shallowed as he felt his face flushed. At this point he didn't mind if the song didn't fit his tastes. He listened on. “I always thought I might be bad now I’m sure that its true cuz, I think you're so good and I’m nothing like you.” Kirishima’s voice grew louder, his confidence now shining a bit. Bakugo got stuck on those words. His heart stopped for a second. Like it had hit home. “Not possible. I don’t like anyone. If I did people would look down on me. I’m not that fucking stupid that i’d fall for someone.” Bakugo thought as he heard Kirishima’s voice fade out, signalling the end of the song. His gaze fell on Kirishima once again, seeing Kirishima’s content smile would have made him run to the hills if he hadn’t stopped himself. “Right?”

“Oi Shitty Hair.” Bakugo said harshly as he ripped out Kirishima’s earbud. “The fuck did you make me listen to?” Kirishima looked at Bakugo, his eyes wide. He started beaming. “Its ‘Love Like You’ from Steven Universe!” Bakugo looked at him for a while and turned his gaze back in front of them, the dorm now visible. “It fucking sucks. We’re listening to my music next time.” “Awwwww Bakugo, come on…” Kirishima pouted. If Kirishima didn’t know better, he wouldn't have noticed the hesitation in Bakugo’s voice.

Now Bakugo was laying in his bed, with a phone in his hand and earbuds in his ears, a familiar soft piano playing. Was Bakugo reading into this too much? Maybe. Was Bakugo falling deep? Definitely. The more and more he replayed it, the more and more he realized that he had been shoving down an unknown feeling. “Did Kirishima put this song on specifically? No” he thought. But it did make him think. It made him think about how much Kirishima had changed him. He wasn’t so hot headed compared to the beginning of the year. Did he look up to Kirishima? Sure, why not. He was passionate and determined. He couldn’t stop thinking about how everyone loved him. Like something about his smile could entrance and influence anyone in the room. Then there's this stupid smirk he has. When he looks at Bakugo after he’s probably blown something up. Kirishima had this smirk each time and usually after he would follow his steps. They would destroy everything in their way. Bakugo couldn’t ever think about not having him by his side.Then he thought about the All for One incident. Bakugo was afraid to admit that he was truly scared, afraid that he was going to give up. Then he wasn’t, because Kirishima yelled out to him. Saved him. Bakugo was never like Kirishima. He was so nice so amazing so strong so caring so… loving. It finally clicked. “I’m a fucking idiot.” He jumped up, ripping the earbuds from his ears and stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Fuck it.” He had to change this tight feeling in his chest. Quick.

Kirishima’s peaceful nap was ruined with an abrupt knocking on his door. His hair was messy and to put it short, it was a bird’s nest. Kirishima groggily gets up from his desk, still not noticing the english paper stuck to his face. He stumbled to the door, bumping into various clothing and items on the floor. Kirishima let a yawn escape his lips as he stops in front of the door. “Who is it?” He says as he opens the door with his eyes only slightly cracked open. His eyes shoot open when he’s met with hard sharp eyes. “Bakugo! Why’re you here?” Kirishima quickly shakes himself awake, causing the paper to fall. Kirishima’s face grew hot. “I didn’t notice that on my face????? I’m probably a mess.” Kirishima thought forcing an awkward grin onto his face. Bakugo stood there. Still. “The fuck do I say? Do i just confess right here? Do i have to recite a poem like in those cheesy as fuck movies? Does he even think of me like that?” Bakugo thought. He didn’t think of what to say beforehand. Another moment in his life when he was a fucking idiot. “What the fuck am I doing???” He began to panic but didn’t let it show. Kirishima noticed the stiff silence and said, “You wanna come inside? It's a mess so I’m sorry!” Bakugo kinda just stood there, weighing his options, join him or detonate the fucking building. Bakugo was never the one for awkward moments and this was the worst time to have one. “Fine k-Shitty Hair.” Bakugo stormed in, passing Kirishima and placing himself on the messy bed. Kirishima didn’t fail to notice Bakugo’s slip when addressing him.

“Soooooo, what’cha wanna do? Video games?” Kirishima said as he closed the door behind them. He looked at Bakugo and noticed the expression he was making. He was thinking. Thinking on just how he was gonna tell Kirishima that he realized that he had pushing away some feelings. Thinking on how to tell him that he’s a fucking idiot. “Kirishima, I was wondering…” It was too late now. He had to tell him something. Kirishima noticed his struggle and stood up to the plate. “How bout we just- uh- study?” He knew how to deal with awkward situations but how the fuck did you deal with an awkward Bakugo? Kirishima kinda just stood there, not knowing what to do. Bakugo was like a puzzle piece. One that no one had yet to figure out. Kirishima was one of a few who were curious what would happen if you had solved the piece. Seeing Kirishima in thought had frustrated Bakugo, even more so, it made him anxious. So he did the one thing he was thinking about. “Eijirou.” A cold voice had pierced Kirishima’s ears as he looked up, seeing a pair of hard red eyes directly in front of him. He could feel his throat tighten and his face flush. Before they knew it, Bakugo had his lips on Kirishima’s. Now he’d done it. He kissed his best friend out of sheer anxiety and… love? Bakugo still faint to the word but at this point, all he could just focus on the fact that he felt a second pair of lips pushing into the kiss. Kirishima had kissed back. He kissed back. Bakugo pulled back with a dumbfounded look. “What the fuck did I just do?” A soft laugh filled the air as Kirishima closed his eyes, tears threatening to fall. “I don't know what you did but I just know that it caused me to love you.” You could’ve sworn that Bakugo had gone blind by looking directly at the piece of sunshine. Bakugo just stood there, his arms loosely around Kiri’s waist. They were both interrupted with a familiar tune that had just been noticed. Bakugo forgot to turn off his music. Had it been playing this whole time? How did they not notice??? Kirishima lowered his hand into bakugo’s pocket and pulled out the phone. Bakugo just watched as Kirishima pulled the earbuds from the jack and let the music play out loud. “When I see the way you look shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love like you.” He looked up at Bakugo with a grin stretched on his face. “You were listening to the song I put on?” Bakugo just huffed and dropped his head in the crook of his neck. “Shut up.” “Love you too… Katsuki.” Katsuki fell. He fell hard.

[musicinneverland]

Here’s a shitty sorta fluff piece that I wrote because I’ve been reading far too much fanfic lately 

           I close my eyes and allow the wind to hit me full on. While I know that it’s not exactly wise to be walking when the rain has no intentions of slowing, it’s hard not to. The forty minutes to work is the only time I can take to think and be truly aware of myself. The calming effect of today’s weather is an added bonus. This time I take to breathe and listen to my music and decompress are so important. Without it I’d probably be institutionalized. There’s some hope, though. I don’t think I’m as sad or stressed anymore. The loneliness comes in waves that tend to drown out other potential feelings. If we’re being honest here, these walks probably make it worse. They just enable me to replay the past over and over.

           You see, I’ve created this routine. It’s one of many, but it’s the one I follow the most strictly. No matter how many scenes unravel in my head of bumping into him, either at work or on the street, I need to remind myself that it’s just a fantasy. And it would break my routine.

           First

           First I find myself remembering the day we met. That is where most people start, after all. My hair swayed behind me as I walked down the city streets I passed nice-yet-affordable dining, antique shops, and high rise buildings. My destination was a small record shop nestled right in the middle. That’s where my first routine began. Greet the store cat, put my bag behind the counter, and make my way on to the floor. The walk around was pretty simple; make sure the records were in their proper place, the store looked at least sortve put together, and take the albums I wanted for my stash before the customers could get to them. The coffee maker would hum along to whatever vinyl my boss, Harvey, deemed to fit that day’s ‘vibe’. He’d usually pick from my stash, but the record always found its way back by pay day. From there, we’d move on to more important things. On a normal day that would consist of feeding Bob Meowly, cleaning the large windows upfront, and then arguing about what’s actually a classic as opposed to what was just popular.

           The day this routine changed was a year and a half into my time at the small shop. In hindsight I probably should’ve known that something was off. Meowly didn’t meet me by the door, the record of the day was different from the usual style, and Harvey sat at the counter with an amused look. The same grin he got when he knew I’d have an entertaining reaction to something was plastered on his face that morning. And yet, I continued as normal. It was until I stood face to face with a tall, brown haired boy around my age that I realized what exactly was so strange.

           “It seems the cat has taken a liking to you,” I said, arms crossed.

           “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He was obviously flustered by the appearance of a new person in the room.

           A short silence ensued before he finally asked “Actually, do you work here? I was hoping for some guidance…”

           The awkward poured off of him and, with pity in the back of my mind, I decided to take him under my wing. If he wanted to broaden what he listened to, who was I to stop him? By the end of his visit, I’d shown him my hoard, which he affectionately nicknamed the “Holy Grail”. From that day on, I’d grab two records for my stash; one for me and one for him. It wasn’t for another year that I realized that he didn’t actually need any help whatsoever in the music department, it was just an excuse to talk to me.

             Second, I’ll think about when things changed. We slowly began to talk about things other than music. We started calling or texting when one of us couldn’t make it to the store that day. It was rare to not hear from him. Pretty soon, he decided that he needed guidance with movies, too. I’d be a bad person if I didn’t help. After a few hours of arguing of which movie to see, we went to the theater. Which led to a long discussion after about how it was so bad it was funny. Which led to the two of us sitting on the roof of his apartments until dawn talking about anything and everything.

           So many people think that love is something slow, built upon over years and years until all of the pieces fit. That’s not how it happened for me. That night felt like someone flipped a switch. He had gone from someone I enjoyed talking to, to someone I couldn’t picture not in my life. The light began to shine over the buildings around us, highlighting his curls and the speckles in his eyes. We had stopped talking a while ago, but it was comfortable. That was when I knew I loved him. Pretty ironic, come to think of it. Shortly after, I went home and replayed the night’s events over and over. What I didn’t realize was that there would be plenty more occasions when he wouldn’t leave my mind.

             Third.

           Number three is where I begin to reach an overwhelmed state. This is when I recall our firsts: first kiss, first fight, our first everything. With the amount of times I’ve overanalyzed all of these, I now know that it’s not so much the memories as much as it is the emotions. There was so much passion and love in all of those instances; that’s what I’m longing for. That and the way he smelled like cedar and mint gum. The way he always tasted of green tea. The way he was always warm and gentle. At this point in my walk I begin to wonder if that tightness in my chest was love, or if it was just lust. If those silly fights were because I cared or if they were simply a defense mechanism. If I was actually capable of loving him, or if I was too fucked up to know how. Luckily, these thoughts don’t last long as they’re generally triggered by a sadder song on my playlist. Shortly, I’m onto step four of my routine.

           As soon as I’m calm again, I’m able to reassure myself that I did love him, it was just too much. That’s probably why I pushed him away.

Two thirds of the way into my walk, I remember some of the most random events in our relationship. These memories probably have a lot to do with how helpless I’m feeling on a given day. Yesterday, I was transported to the carnival he took me to on our first official date. A cliché, I know, but it’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. There wasn’t a single moment that I didn’t have a smile on my face. His face was lit with excitement and neon lights as we walked from stall to stall. It had grown darker and colder, and he insisted I wear his jacket. Once engulfed in warmth and his cologne, he grabbed my hand and ran to the nearest ride. After regaining our balance from a very intense ride on the tilt-a-whirl, he became determined to win me something to remember the night by. It turned out to be a small stuffed elephant, which I still have hidden somewhere in my apartment.

Today, I recall when I found myself sat in front of him and his guitar. His calloused fingers were picking at the strings nervously as he sang one of the most beautiful melodies I’ve ever heard. I remember thinking that he’d never told me he could sing that evening. Once he finished he looked at me with full, hopeful eyes.

“Do you think I could do this? Like, actually do it?”

“Yes. 100%. You’re going to make it big.” My heart fell as the words left my mouth.

It was selfish, I know. I didn’t want to have to share him with anyone, let alone the thousands of people I knew would love him nearly as much as I do. Did. Even worse was the thoughts that clouded my brain the nights following our conversation. He’d be gone seven, eight, nine months out of the year. Did I really expect him to always come back to me? There would most definitely be more attractive, famous even, women that would throw themselves at him. How could I blame him for not going after them?

By the time his album dropped, I was gone.

 It is after this final, unpleasant walk down memory lane that I am able to pull myself back to reality. It is now that I grab a coffee from a nearby café and drown myself in whatever song will make me forget for those three minutes. It gives me enough time to regain my façade of “I’m fine” and prep myself to walk into the shop that has been so empty since I kicked him out. But that was okay, because if I saw him it would break my routine.

The bell above the door rings gently alerting Harvey that I am, in fact, on time. The newspaper that usually hides his face is gone as he stares at me with a grin. I’m sure whatever news he has can wait, as it’s most likely an add-on to our argument about the Eagles from yesterday.

It isn’t until I’m looking at soft eyes and soft curls that I realize Bob Meowly isn’t purring at my feet, but his. For the first time in six months, the cat has picked this boy over me yet again.

“Is this one any good?” His voice rings out, calling my attention to the AQUA: Greatest Hits album in his hand. I stand glued to the spot, so he continues with the other hand moving through his hair. “Listen, I know you told me to forget you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.”

With a shaky breath I respond.

“Took you long enough, Mendes.”