#also if u recognise the books on the bottom shelf you’re right they are

[lawisnotmocked]

>:D I can finally get my collection out of storage again!!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Butterbeer and BonBons // S.B. (celebration fic)

Request: C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S ON 1.25K 🥳🥳🥳 You deserve this and I love your fics so much! I’m not sure if this is right but, may I please have Sirius with Misc. 2, 3, and 4 in Hogsmeade? Thank youu! 💙 - @inkhearthes

Misc 2: “I wasn't sure which flavour you liked so I got all of them.”

Misc 3: “What happened?”

Misc 4: “You’re giving me a headache.”

A/N: I cannot apologise enough for how long this has taken me. Honestly, there aren't enough words to tell you how sorry I am, but thank you for your sweet words. This is honestly self indulgent fluff that has more pining in it than any form of a plot but it’s been a long week so forgive me please.

Warnings: THIS FOCUSES A LOT ON CHOCOLATE AND SWEETS. BE AWARE OF MENTIONS OF FOOD. Some swearing, pining, mutual pining, so much fluff your teeth will rot, teenagers in love, teenage angst

Word count: 3.5k

It wasn’t often that the long haired Marauder offered his services as a tutor; it wasn’t often for the fact that he simply didn’t want to help anyone outside of his friends. For you, however, he would drop all his plans to spend an evening with you recalling the events of the Gargoyle Strike of 1911.

For you, Sirius would happily accept the teasing and the jokes from his friends. For you, Sirius would happily sit through the dullest of lectures. It hadn’t been long since Sirius realised his feelings for you; his affection for you taking him by surprise but soon settling deep within him, becoming part of his very being as he watched and admired you from afar.

The library had long since emptied; the last two students being you and Sirius this close to curfew. It had been hours since you had stepped outside the large, cavernous room, wanting nothing more than to overcome the troublesome essay that had been set by Professor Binns. It had been hours since you started; hours since you had taken your designated seat next to Sirius and began your work.

This long in, a headache was starting to form behind your eyes, making it increasingly hard to focus. “You’re giving me a headache, Sirius,” You moan, rubbing your temples with two fingers as Sirius pauses his mini-lecture to take a breath.

Sirius laughs, closing his books, “That’s enough studying then.”

You smile gratefully at the long haired marauder, “Thank you for helping me, I know you aren’t the biggest fan of this subject.”

“No,” He states dryly, “I can’t say I’m Professor Binn’s biggest fan.”

“Still,” You sigh, “You didn’t have to help, but you did, so thank you.”

Sirius shakes his head, dismissing your gratitude. He would have helped you regardless; he didn’t need to extra credit for being a tutor nor did he care much for it. He just wanted to help you; he would always help you.

You roll your eyes, smiling at him as you begin to close the masses of leather bound books surrounding you. Book after book had been pulled from the shelves as you started to get to the crux of your essay, and now you wanted to groan at the task of putting them back in their rightful place.

“Fancy a trip?” Sirius asks suddenly; mischief shining bright in his eyes, personified further by the growing smirk on his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, placing the last book on its correct shelf. “That depends,” You state warily, “What did you have in mind?”

His smirk grows larger; he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, “Shall we go to Hogsmeade?”

You immediate reaction is to laugh. It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, and it wouldn’t be for another two weeks. “How are we going to Hogsmeade when it isn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, Sirius?”

Sirius shakes his head; refusing to answer your question. Instead, he stands, holding out a hand for you to take. “Do you trust me?” He asks; voice full of sincerity.

Wordlessly, you nod, taking his hand and letting him lead you from the library. He doesn’t let loose as he leads you to the staircase; stepping onto one and letting it lead the way.

“What?” You smile; leaning closer to him on instinct, wanting to know the joke that has him grinning like a fool.

Sirius shakes his head, “I just can’t believe I got you to sneak about the castle with me. You’ve never done something this bad.”

“Sirius!” You shout; tapping his shoulder gently, “I can be bad.”

Sirius doubles over; laughter pouring out of him almost uncontrollably. You stand next to him, waiting with crossed arms and an even crosser facial expression. “Sirius!” You shout once more; this time with anger lacing your tone, “What’s so funny?”

Sirius straightens up; dramatically wiping away any and all non-existent tears, “Just the idea that you can be bad, love. How many house points have you lost in our seven years of Hogwarts?”

You purse your lips, not enjoying having the fun picked out of you. “None,” You confirm, “Unlike some people.”

Sirius quirks an eyebrow at your pointed words. He shouldn’t, but he likes how easily he gets under your skin. He enjoys riling you up, getting you worked up. It gives him hope that he affects you just as much as you affect him; that perhaps his feelings for you are not unrequited after all, that you do in fact harbour some romantic feelings for him after all. He would think it a miracle, but he thinks it, nonetheless.

“This way,” He murmurs, pulling you in the direction of the one-eyed witch statue.

You repress the urge to slow your steps, holding nothing but blind faith in Sirius that he isn’t going to lead you on a path that could cause trouble. You begin to frown as you approach the one-eyed witch statue; her stance and eerie gaze enough to make you uncomfortable in the daytime. However, as evening descends, her gaze becomes close to terrifying.

“Why are we here, Sirius? I thought we were going to Hogsmeade?”

He nods towards the statues, another smile breaking across his face, “That’s how we’re getting to Hogsmeade.”

You eye the statues; the size of it compared to the size of you both has you doubting Sirius’ sanity somewhat. “How exactly?”

Sirius nudges your shoulder with his before dropping your hand, “Are you ready?”

You nod eagerly; desperate to know just how this statue would be your key to the small village outside of the grounds of the school. Sirius steps towards the statue with the air of someone who had done this a thousand times before, if not more.

Straining your hearing, you just about make out the word whispered by Sirius, “Dissendium.”

There’s a creaking noise first; then the grinding noise of stone against stone as you watch the back of the one-eyed witch open, revealing a passageway big enough for two. Sirius turns to you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he takes in your gobsmacked expression. He gestures to the hole in the back of the witch, “After you.”

--------

Popping up out of the floor, you recognise your location by scent alone. The overwhelming scent of sugar and chocolate had you guessing you were underneath Honeyduke’s sweet shop. Brushing down your robes, you turn to the teenager who waits for your reaction, “Honeyduke’s?”

“Honeyduke’s,” He confirms, striding confidently towards the door. A nervous whimper leaving your mouth has him freezing in place. “Love?” He asks.

“We can’t just go out there!” You argue, “What if we’re seen? What if we’re caught and marched back to the castle? We could get expelled for this!”

“I doubt it,” Sirius states, a smile in his voice, “I’ve been coming here for years and haven’t been caught since.”

You fold your arms; glaring at the long haired Marauder, “Gee, thanks, that fills me with so much confidence.”

Sirius marches back to you. He places both hands gently on either side of your face, “Love, would I have risked bringing you here if I thought we were going to get caught?”

“No?” You state, but your voice raises at the end, making it more of a question.

“No,” Sirius confirms, “I would never risk you, so let’s have a nice evening and some fun. What do you think?”

You hesitate; teeth worrying your bottom lip as you glance between the teenager who has nothing but sincerity in his eyes and smile, and the hole in the ground that would lead you to sure safety but boredom.

“Love?” Sirius prompts, “If you don’t want to do this, we can head straight back.”

You shake your head; the continued use of that term of endearment combined with your want and need to spend time with him has your heart winning over your mind. You step past him, facing him over your shoulder, “Are you coming or what?”

His answering grin is enough for you to know you’ve made the right decision.

-----

Despite the sickly sweet scent that often gave you a headache, Honeyduke’s was one of your favourite shops in Hogsmeade. It had such a wonderful atmosphere and the sweets created were nothing short of genius. It had become tradition after your third visit to the shop in your Third Year to stock up on Chocolate Frogs and Fizzing Whizzbees, however, this time you didn’t have your stash of sugary treats in mind.

A floor to ceiling shelf was dedicated to the craft of Honeyduke’s. The chocolate created by the owner being famous across the wizarding world for its creaminess but also its extent of flavours. Heading immediately there, you fix your gaze on the brightly coloured labels, pondering the best tasting flavours.

Sirius joins you; eyes pouring over the countless bars of chocolate. “What shall we do now that we’re here?”

You tap a finger to your cheek as you continue to read the labels, admitting shyly, “I’m not too sure. I’m surprised I’m here.”

Sirius laughs, “It’s surprised me too.”

You nod towards the door, “I’ll meet you outside? I just want to buy something.”

Sirius smiles down at you as he nods, “I’ll be out by the bench across the street.”

You don’t take very long once Sirius leaves; the bell above the door chiming as he goes. You grab a handful of bars from the shelves; making sure to pick an array of flavours and drop them on the counter. The worker eyes your robes but doesn’t say anything as he rings you up, placing the delicious sweets in a paper bag and handing it to you.

Spying Sirius where he said he would be, you rush to his side, already feeling the harshness of the howling wind. “I wasn’t sure what flavour you liked so I got all of them,” You comment lightly, hoping not to make a big deal over what you had done for the teenager you had a crush on.

Sirius laughs – his real laugh; a happy sound that brings a grin to your face as it was a sound so few heard and those that did, treasured. You felt fortunate that you could now be included in the select few.

He takes the bag from you, already smelling the sweet scent of the chocolate in the bag. “What have you bought?” He asks, voice teasing.

You grin up at him; wishing you had a camera in this moment to capture the curious look on his face. All his expressions should be captured, you think, everything about him should be immortalised on film. You shake your head, “I splurged a little.”

He opens the bag; curiosity getting the better of him as his mouth begins to water at the rich scent of dark chocolate. “Honeyduke’s chocolate?”

You nod your head, “I overheard you and Remus saying you had finished your stash. I thought it would be an apt opportunity to start that stash back up when you brought me here.”

Unexpectedly, Sirius surges forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your face heats immediately, unable to truly comprehend the way it feels. It feels too good; it feels like something you want him to do again, over and over for however long possible.

He clears his throat, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at his sudden show of affection, “Thank you. I didn’t expect that.”

You wave away his gratitude as he had done earlier with you. “I wish we had time to grab warmer robes,” You shiver; rubbing your arms to warm up some as you trundle through the ankle deep snow. You bite your bottom lip, looking down at your snow covered feet, thinking that by the time you return to the castle with Sirius in tow, there was a very good chance that the snowfall will have increased.

Sirius snorts, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tugging you to his side. The simple, unthought action has you warming up considerably; not expecting this form of affection from Sirius in the slightest. His hand rubs your upper arm; the friction and his proximity warming you up faster that you realise.

“Come on,” He starts; nodding his head towards the popular meet up for Hogwarts students, “Let’s grab you a butterbeer and warm up slightly.”

“My saviour,” You comment; a wry smile on your slips as you let him usher you into The Three Broomsticks. Like the gentleman he has been raised to be, Sirius holds the door open to the tavern open for you, his cheeks aflame as he realises how much he likes being called your saviour even if it was said sarcastically.

Grabbing a booth close to the roaring fire, Sirius leaves you with a warm smile as he heads to the bar. Madame Rosmerta had spotted him when he walked in; she had smiled at him broadly before her eyes widened when she saw you. Sirius is immediately dragged into an interrogation at the bar whilst you’re left at the booth, warming your hands by the flames of the large fire.

The longer Sirius remains at the bar, the louder the whispers get from the booth next to you. Filled with students from your year but ones you had never spoken to before, you shuffled down in your seat, close to burying your face in your robes and wishing to melt away like the snow. Their laughter rings in your ears, and you know it isn’t from a joke freshly told but rather at your expense.

Their laughter makes some sense. The evening so far hadn’t made any sense. Sirius had been tutoring you in History of Magic for weeks; happily volunteering to the task when asked by Professor Binns. However, his sudden want to spend time with you outside of school wasn’t wholly understandable, and it did very little to help you curb your growing feelings for the long haired Marauder.

They weren’t the sort of feelings that crept up on you overnight; surprising you and leaving you breathless. No – these feelings had been there a long time, simmering away in the recesses of your mind where Sirius often featured as the main character of your daydreams. Not long after the start of your tutoring sessions did you come to see how easy it was to fall for the charms of the Marauder. His easy smile and his bright eyes; his charming personality and his sharp wit. All perfect contributors for a gut wrenching, heart clenching crush.

Two steins of butterbeer land on the table, snapping you out of your ponderings; foam splashing down the sides, creating a small puddle on the age old wooden table. Sirius swears lightly; rushing to grab napkins to sop up the mess before sitting down across from you, taking a large swig of his drink.

“What happened? You’re quieter now than before I left,” Sirius asks; a note of concern in his voice as he glances between you and the group of teenagers now watching you two. He furrows his eyebrows as you shake your head, refusing to answer. Instead, you focus your attention on the cinnamon stick poking out of your butterbeer. Sirius had bought the flavour on a whim; Madame Rosmerta wanting to try out her new festive flavour on the patron who visits her the most. How could Sirius say no to such an offer? Besides, Madame Rosmerta had let him stay late in the tavern when things at Hogwarts and things at home became too much. She kept an eye on him, and for that, he would happily and gratefully try out every new flavour of butterbeer she concocted.

Sirius reaches across the table; gently taking your hand in his. His thumb rubs across the back of your hand in such a comforting motion that tears burn the back of your throat as you shake your head. “You know,” He mumbles, head tilted to you, “Keeping it all in doesn’t help. You can tell me anything.”

You sigh, plucking the cinnamon stick from your drink and placing it on the napkin next to it. Shrugging your shoulders in what you hope is a nonchalant manner, you answer, “They were just rude to me, that’s all.”

Sirius’ frown deepens, “There’s no ‘that’s all’ about it – no-one should be rude to you full stop.”

You smile, flipping your hand to squeeze his fingers, “Thank you, but it’s fine, really.”

His frown loosens, and you know he doesn’t believe you. However, he doesn’t push, and he doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in a tight hold as he takes a sip of his butterbeer, smacking his lips at the sugary taste of butterscotch and cinnamon.

“How are you feeling about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 now?” He asks; wanting to get your mind off of whatever had brought your mood down.

You smile smally, sitting up in your seat, “A lot better now. I don’t know why I find History of Magic so hard.”

Sirius chuckles: a finger tapping the stein of his butterbeer, “We don’t have the most entertaining of teachers, love.”

“You’re right,” You snort, “Binns is a bit of a bore, isn’t he?”

Sirius leans back in his chair; eyes wide as he gasps dramatically. He drops your hand somewhat reluctantly to press it to his chest. “What’s this?” He all but shouts, “(Y/N) sneaking out of the castle and chatting shit about a teacher all in one night? Am I in a parallel universe or something?”

You laugh, flicking your cinnamon stick at him which he catches with ease. “Not in a parallel universe,” You reassure, shrugging, “Just the realisation that I can have fun sometimes.”

Sirius grins: smile wide and straight, white teeth on show as he realises the extent to which you’ve relaxed over your evening with him.

It isn’t long before butterbeers are finished and muffled yawns are leaving your mouth. You do your best to stay alert, but the sugar crash from the overly sweet drink is imminent. The evening had felt like something out of a dream; never in your wildest imagining did you think you would be spending a night outside of the castle with Sirius Black. You never imagined that he would be the one to make your heart feel like it is about to beat right out of your chest, yet he does.

Biting your lip, you begin to realise just how much you don’t want this evening to end. The very thought of turning away from him to return to your room has sadness pooling in your stomach. It dampens your mood and ruins your sugar high. It hits you all at once; the strength of your want to spend every evening with him. It knocks you breathless; eyes wide as you rake your gaze over the intent expression on Sirius’ face.

There is so much more he wants to say; so much more he wants to find out about you. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He wants to know your favourite book and why; he wants to be the one to read to you from it, watching your reactions to moments you long knew were coming. He wants to be the one you do everything with, and it all starts with cinnamon flavoured butterbeer and bags of chocolate.

“Shall we head back?” Sirius asks, standing from his seat and waiting for you.

You nod silently, gathering your wits and steeling yourself for the bitter winter wind waiting for you.

You inhale sharply as the first gust of wind travels over your body. You long of nothing more than Sirius’ arm around your shoulders; the action he showed earlier that warmed you up better than any blanket and any fire could.

Walking back to the castle, neither of you bother with the secret tunnel under Honeyduke’s cellar. Instead, even though neither of you dare utter the words, the both of you don’t want the evening to end. Between you both, it felt like the start of something more. It felt like the start of a closer friendship and a deeper relationship, but neither were ready to confront the feelings that were quite obviously there.

Your hands brush repeatedly as you amble back to the castle. The sky has long since darkened, and the both of you know that the caretaker will be prowling the castle, searching for students out past curfew. However, as Sirius’ hand brushes yours, fingers reaching out for yours, the jolt of electricity sent up your arm has you not caring about the caretaker and the consequences or the weather that threatens a chest cold. All you care about as the turret of Gryffindor tower is illuminated by the moon is the teenager walking beside you, wondering what the future could possibly hold with him by your side.

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @chaoticgirl04 @teheharrypotter @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @kashishwrites​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual @just-a-belgian-girl

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Familiar

Summary: Steve wanders into a record shop looking to make a dent in his to-do list. He doesn’t expect the owner to make a dent in his life. 

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Guess what? more fluff.

Words: 2,800

A/n: So, I wasn’t planning on posting this but... here it is?? Thanks, @averyrogers83 - you gave me this idea and I really like how it turned out... Please give me feedback! I know this is kinda cheesy but I liked writing it. Love u all. seriously 💛💛💛 I might make this a multi-chapter thingo if it gets a good response... what do you guys think?

ALSO I only have one person on my Steve taglist so, like, feel free to shoot me an ask to be added to that?? Or any of my taglists tbh

Masterlist

The record store was in a quiet part of town, and in turn, the store was pretty much empty, aside from the clerk whose head was resting on her folded arms - possibly asleep at the counter. The shelves were covered in a thin layer of dust, occasionally broken by a fingerprint or some sign of the products being moved, and records in cardboard sleeves were scattered, almost randomly, across every surface. Many of the corners were worn and many images were faded, but there was a shelf of brand-new records to one side - records still covered in plastic wrap with vivid artwork and photography. A bell chimed quietly when he pushed the door open, but the girl sitting at the counter didn’t budge.

It felt like a place out of time - something that shouldn’t have survived so long - just like him.

As soon as Steve entered, a feeling of comfort washed over him. The familiarity of a record store - rows upon rows of vinyls and posters with torn edges - it even smelled the same. He inhaled deeply, surveying the shelves around him and looking for anything familiar. There wasn’t much, but that’s okay - he wasn’t here for his old music.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a tattered notebook and flipping to the page with his to-do list. He let out a sigh as he stared at the list, he was pretty sure he would never catch up with the modern world, not with the amount of entertainment in the world. Not after so much time had passed.

He wandered down one isle, his fingers lightly tracing the tops of records, searching for ‘Nirvana,’ one of the bands on his list. After what felt like a very long time, his fingers finally came to a halt, drifting over the title of an album - ‘From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah’ by Nirvana - and he quickly pulled it out, studying the cover.

“I wouldn’t go for that album,” a sweet voice interrupted his perusing and he flinched slightly at the sudden noise breaking the tranquility of the record store.

“Sorry, you just, don’t seem like you know what you’re looking for and that-” you gestured to the record in his hands, “-is Nirvana’s worst album.”

He blinked lamely at you, confused by your sudden appearance. You ignored his silence and began to flick through the record yourself. “This, is their best album.” you smiled, holding up ‘Nevermind,’ Nirvana’s second album, gesturing for him to take it.

“Uh– I didn’t realise it was so obvious. My cluelessness, I mean.” he had finally collected his thoughts, and stuttered out a response, placing the first record down and taking the one from your hands.

“Well, you were frozen in ice for 70 years or something - I connected the dots.”

“Ah, so you did recognise me,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I watch the news every once and a while.” you chuckled, picking up a few stray records, intending to sort them into their proper space.

“Right, of course,” he mumbled, a small smile gracing his features as he followed you down the isle, intending to buy the record and leave. “You uh, seem to know a lot about Nirvana. They a favourite of yours?”

“Not really. I just know a lot about pop culture. Working in a place like this - you learn a lot about music. Plus I have a lot of spare time.” you glanced back at him, watching curiously as he read the back of the record.

You assumed the conversation was over, and turned to continue working.

“Hey, wait, would you– would you be able to help me? I uh… need to try and catch up so if you have any suggestions…”

You turned immediately on your heel, grinning towards the tall blonde man. “I thought you’d never ask,” you said, excitement lacing your voice as you immediately starting to make a list in your head. “I’m y/n, by the way.”

He chuckled lightly at your excitement, a sweet smile reaching his cheeks as he watched you filter through the records in your arms, dropping the pile on the counter in front of you and pulling out two records.

“Ok, we have ‘Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band’ - The Beatles, I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” You looked up to gauge his reaction and he nodded his head in confirmation.

“Already heard a few of their songs,” he mumbled, taking the colourful record from you and adding it to the Nirvana one.

You held up the next record, a single. He stared blankly at the plain white cover, reading the title out. “Spice, Wan-abe?” His face was set in a grimace, immediately judging a book by its cover.

“The Spice Girls - Wannabe,” you corrected, laughing at his pronunciation. “It was really popular in the 90s, everybody in the world knows the lyrics to this chorus,” you mumbled, piling it on top of his other records.

He was still staring at the cover, suddenly unsure about your judgement, but he followed as you began to rush down another isle. “This place is like a maze,” he murmured, eyes trailing over the tall shelves in alarm, “How do you know where everything is?”

“I’ve been in this place pretty much every day since I was born - my dad owned it,” you explained, tracing your fingers across the spines of a few records. “I know this place like the back of my ha– here it is!”

You pulled out another record, briefly showing him the cover before thrusting it into his arms. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John - Really popular in the 70s, Elton John is one of the greats.”

He nodded along, slightly overwhelmed by all the information, but glad to have someone who knew what they were talking about, rather than Tony’s bias towards ‘AC DC’ and Sam’s strange addiction to 90s boy bands.

“Oh! This is what’s playing now.” You pulled a black and white album cover from a nearby shelf and pointed up, gesturing to the speakers. “The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main st.”

A breathy laugh escaped his lips as he watched you shake your head from side to side to the rhythm of ‘Casino Boogie,’ squeezing your eyes shut in enjoyment.

“You really know your stuff,” he chuckled, adding the record to his pile.

You opened your eyes and he watched as they glistened with your passion for these records - the music, the artists, the store. You were at home here, and he found himself wishing he had something like that.

You added another couple of records to his pile - Michael Jackson, Prince, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston - before heading towards the shelf of modern music.

“Alright, there is a lot of good modern music, but there’s also a lot of bad modern music that’s really popular anyway - so I’ll try to be gentle.”

He laughed at your words and turned to watch as your fingers hovered over album titles and artists, your bottom lip pulled into your teeth.

“Uhmm, we’ll go with this.” You pulled out a dark record, holding it up to show him.

“Macklemore and Ryan Lewis - The Heist,” he read out, taking the record from your hands and studying the back of it.

You moved closer, so that you were standing next to him, your shoulder brushing against his own as you explained. “It’s rap, but some of the stuff on here is really powerful. Same Love is an amazing song about equality and homophobia and Wing$ is all about materialism and violence…”

He had stopped listening, distracted by the way you moved as you explained passionately. Your eyes had that look in them again, and he couldn’t tear his own eyes away. Your hands gesticulated, pointing to the tracklist as you directed him towards the best songs as he could see the excitement, the passion, in your movement.

He blinked, subtly shaking his head as he tuned back in.

“Oh, and ‘Cowboy boots’ is a bit of fun - good to sing along to.” you confirmed, pulling your hand away to look up at him.

“I’d like to hear that,” he mumbled, eyes widening as he realised what he’d said. He frantically tried to come up with a way to backpedal out of his statement, and he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes widen slightly, but you took it well.

“Oh trust me, you wouldn’t - I sound like a dying cat when I sing.” you laughed, taking a step back and picking up another album. “But, get a few drinks in me and I become the absolute queen of karaoke. Now that’s something you’d like to see.”

He laughed along with you, running a hand through his hair, already forgetting his awkward slip-up.

“Alright, last one.” You reached up to a higher shelf and pulled down a bright orange album. “Ed Sheeran’s first mainstream album - it broke the world back in 2011 when it came out, he’s probably the most popular male artist of recent history.”

You placed the final album gently on top of his pile, sending him an accomplished smile.

“Wow, this is a bit of a to-do list” he chuckled, staring down at the massive, colourful pile in his arms.

You laughed. “You asked, buddy.” You patter him gently on the shoulder and he could’ve sworn a shiver ran through his entire body at your touch.

“Wow it’s actually almost closing time,” you mumbled, noticing the sun going down outside and checking your watch. “I’ll ring those up for you and then close up shop.”

He followed you to the counter, watching as you carefully placed the record in a brown bag and hummed along to another song that was playing on the speaker system.

“So I’m curious,” you mumbled, pulling him from his trance, “you want to catch up with the modern world, why buy records? I’m assuming you have a phone and iTunes.”

He laughed gently at the question, the corner of his mouth twisting up. “I guess– I guess it’s just nice to have something I know. In the middle of everything so… so foreign and new, it’s uh comforting to have something… familiar.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips as you pushed the bag across the counter to him, your eyes meeting for a moment. His eyes were full of wistfulness as he looked back at you, a grateful smile on his lips.

“Well, the door’s always open,” you tilted your head towards the door, attempting to send him a comforting smile. “I mean, in a metaphorical way, not literally, I’m actually about to lock up”

He laughed, but thanked you gently. He knew it was strange, but he wanted to stay, to keep listening to you talk. your passion was exhilarating and it made him feel warm, as sappy as that sounded. 

His head turned as if he was about to walk out, but he suddenly turned back to you, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.

“You alright there, captain?” You smirked, organising the last few things on the counter.

“Can I walk you home?” He blurted the words out, unsure of how else to phrase it and your head flicked up in surprise, your eyes wide.

“I’m sorry - that was weird, I’ll just… go.” He turned on his heel, brusquely trying to escape his awkward moment.

“No!” You flung your backpack over your shoulder and rushed around the counter to meet him. “I’d love for you to walk me home,” you stated confidently, grinning up at him.

He smiled down at you. “Alright. Alright, let’s go.”

He pulled the door open, allowing you to walk out in front of him and you smiled thankfully, brushing a hair behind your ear. He held his arm out to you once you locked the door and you looped yours underneath, chuckling lightly at his old-fashioned, gentlemanly actions.

“I have an idea,” you stated, digging your hands into your pockets and pulling out some headphones and your phone. “I’ll show you some music while we walk - some of my favourite stuff, not world-famous like the records I gave you.”

You reached up and slipped the headphone into his ear, putting the other one in your ear and scrolling through your iTunes library, clicking on your favourote song by Rex Orange County.

‘Loving is easy

You had me fucked up,

It used to be so hard to see

Yeah, loving is easy

When everything’s perfect

Please don’t change a single little thing for me’

The song started playing and you began to him along instantly, knowing it off by heart. He sent you a smile and nodded his head along to the rhythm.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, his arm falling down and his fingers subconsciously intertwining with your own, he realised what he was doing, but it was too late, and he felt a blush spread across his cheeks when you didn’t pull your hand away. “Better than anything Tony tried to show me.”

You laughed at that, tapping your thumb lightly on the back of his hand. You were a little shocked when his hand grabbed yours, but of course Steve Rogers had some moves. 

‘When you can’t even hide it

And it didn’t take forever to find it

I was all on my own

Almost glad to be alone

Until love came in

On time, on time’

He felt like he was floating and he couldn’t pull the smile off of his face. His heart beat in time with the song and he felt your thumb tapping lazily on the back of his hand he watched you in the corner of his eye, trying not to get caught.

Your hair fell loosely in front of his face and if he listened closely, he could hear your voice as you quietly sang along. He didn’t think you sounded like a dying cat at all.

He’d only just met you, but he knew he wanted to keep you around.

‘So, loving is easy

You had me fucked up,

It used to be so hard to see

Yeah, loving is easy

When everything’s perfect

Please don’t change a single little thing for me’

You glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he was already looking at you. You smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

It was strange. A few hours ago, Captain America walked into your shop, looking for help with his to-do list. Now, he was walking you home, holding your hand and listening to your music. This was the kind of thing that happened in rom-coms, and suddenly it was happening to you in real-life.

His hand squeezed yours gently and you felt a blush rush across your neck, threatening to flood your cheeks. You averted your eyes, looking down at the pavement.

‘So listen girl,

When you can’t even hide it

And it didn’t take forever to find it

I was all on my own

Almost glad to be alone

Until love came in

On time, on time’

He pulled the headphone out as the song ended, and you looked back up at him, raising a brow inquisitively.

“That was... amazing, do you have his vinyl?”

“Of course I do,” you chuckled, “you’ll have to come visit me at the store sometime.” You said the words in a light-hearted tone, but you hoped with everything you had that he would come back. 

“Trust me, I will.” he murmured, forcing you to smile again, the blush finally reaching your cheeks.

“Alright well, this is my place.” you gestured towards the apartment building and he nodded his head slowly in recognition.

You looked down at your connected hands and slowly released his fingers, letting your hand fall to your side.

“Thank you, for the records, and for teaching me about some of this stuff,” he mumbled, lifting the bag slightly.

You knew this was where you were supposed to say goodbye, and hope to see him again at the store, but you couldn’t just leave it at that. You had no idea where this new-found confidence came from, but you reached forward, pulling a pen out of your bag and lifting his shirt from his wrist. He was an old-fashioned guy - you decided to do something a little old-fashioned, and wrote out your number on his wrist.

When you were done, you glanced up at his shocked face, leaving towards him and pressing your lips gently to his cheek, as close to his lips as possible.

“Call me, Steve,” you whispered into his ear, brushing your fingers across his shoulder as you pulled away.

He nodded gently, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I will, doll.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you turned away, entering your building and leaving Captain America on the side of the road.

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