tj-is-down

[tj-is-down]

Wandering (John Walker x Reader)

Summary: Reader and John go on a mission together.

Word count: ~ 1.1k

Warnings: Swearing, that's really it. Also I think this can be read as gender neutral? But if that's not right, I'm sorry!

Also, I got the prompt at the end (You're smarter than you look etc.) from @creativepromptsforwriting ! Just wanted to give them credit! :)

The night sky was dark. If anyone looked up, they wouldn’t even be able to see the Quinjet in stealth mode flying across the constellations. They would, however, be likely to hear the Quinjet—or rather, the two people inside of it.

“I’m telling you, we need to go in!”

“And I’m telling you, we need to wait!”

“Who died and put you in charge?”

“Who died and put you in charge?”

“Uh, let me think, maybe Captain America?”

“Oh, fuck off! Like Steve Rogers’ dying wish was to install you as Captain America.”

“Well, that seems to be what happened, isn’t it?”

“And what happened after that?”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off!”

“Both of you, knock it off.” You hear Bucky’s chastising voice over comms. “Or at least turn off your earpieces.”

“We could hear them even if the comms were off,” Yelena butts in. “I’m shocked their cover isn’t blown already.”

“Argh!” John throws his earpiece to the ground and steps on it.

“What the hell was that for?” You ask incredulously.

Without warning, he swiftly grabs your earpiece and steps on it as well. “We don’t need them.”

“Except they’re our extraction team. Do you even think about the consequences of your actions?”

“I think plenty,” he grumbles.

“Prove it.”

“Okay.” With that, he grabs a chute and opens the bay hatch, the wind picking up immensely as the Quinjet travels quickly through the air. “Come with me or don’t. I can do this alone if I need to.”

“Yeah, right,” you say, rolling your eyes and grabbing another chute. Walker counts down from three and the two of you jump, linking arms to ensure you land close by each other. At a low enough altitude he nods at you, and you both open your parachutes before slowly drifting down to the ground below.

“Alright, what now?” You ask him, gesturing to the woods around you. “We’re gonna build a campfire, make some s’mores?”

“I thought I wasn’t in charge?” He asks, and even the darkness can’t hide the smug smirk on his face.

“Well, you got us this far. My plan would’ve gotten us closer, but, whatever, let’s do it your way.”

“Sure it would’ve,” he grumbles. Before you can retort, he’s grabbing your hand and marching forward.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking,” he says without looking back.

“And you’re holding my hand…why?”

“To keep you from wandering off.”

You wriggle from his grip. “I’m not a puppy, I’m a person. I can follow you just fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Truth be told, Walker liked holding your hand, whatever dumb reason he gave for it. And you couldn’t deny the warmth emanating from your palm either, the feeling of his fingers still imprinted around the back of your hand. Somehow the two of you found yourselves back in the same position moments later, fingers interlocked. Neither of you noticed, or if you did, you didn’t mention it.

About an hour after landing, the two of you approach a clearing, finding the base of the organization you’re working to infiltrate. A large warehouse towers over you.

Without warning, John rushes forward, grabbing a man from behind as he walks by. John puts him in a chokehold until he passes out before dragging him back into the woods behind you.

“Take his clothes,” John instructs. “Then push him into that ditch.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Find another guy. Give me two minutes.”

Then, he’s gone. You quickly change into the guard’s clothes, putting it on over your own, before pushing him downward into a trench. John was smart, you’d give him that.

You see him waving you down from behind a parked car, and you briskly walk over to him.

“Where’s your guy?” You ask him, confused by the lack of a derobed person nearby.

“Still in the car.” John gestures behind him.

“That’s kind of impressive,” you say, “that you were able to get his clothes off while he was still in the car.”

“Yeah, well,” he smirks. “I’ve got skills.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that comes to your face. You don’t get to have many nice moments with Walker, and in the midst of all your bickering sometimes you forget that he’s got a decent sense of humor. He’s also tall. Like, really tall.

You shake your head, trying to get your focus back to the mission at hand. “So what’s next?” You ask.

“We blow the place up,” He says. “We walk around, like we’re patrolling, and we place the explosives in different parts of the building. Bucky said it was four floors, so it should only take us a half hour to get through it all. I’m thinking 5 explosive pads per floor; one for each corner, and then one in the middle—”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to split up? We can be in and out faster that way—”

“No,” John says, a little too quickly. “We stick together. That’s the plan.” You shrug your shoulders. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he confirms. “Let’s do this.”

It took less time than you thought, only about 20 minutes even with the two of you staying together. By the time you were out of the building and miles away, the sun was just beginning to rise.

“You wanna do the honors?” John asks, holding out the detonation control to you.

“Nah, I’m good. You do it.”

“If you say so.”

With that, he pushes the button, and the two of you watch as a cloud of fire erupts into the sky. You stare at it for a moment before placing your hand to your ear, remembering that you’re comm-less and have no way to get back to the Quinjet other than by foot.

“Way to go, John,” You say, gesturing to the side of your head where your earpiece would be. “Now we’ve got no way to get home.”

“We’re only 5 miles from the meet point. You’ll be fine.”

“It would be a lot faster if we had a Quinjet to get us there.”

“I can’t hold your hand in the Quinjet, now can I?”

You look down to see your hands have wandered back together, John rubbing circles on yours with his thumb.

“You know, you’re smarter than you look.”

He scoffs. “Is that a compliment towards my intelligence or an insult towards my looks?”

“A compliment? From me? Never.”

He laughs before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Yeah, right.”

The two of you walk along in comfortable silence.

[tj-is-down]

Ten Dollars (Line Cook! Scott Miller x Reader)

Okay so somebody posted a headcanon of Scott Miller but as a line cook (I believe it was @glossykissies) and I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I've plotted a whole story about him in my brain, and this is but a small snippet and all I've put in words. Just a quick warning that this is not proofread and if you see an error I will cry. But I think it's cute! So here it is.

Summary: Reader gets a shitty tip from a customer, and Scott has something to say about it

Word count: ~950 (I'm sorry this is so short! But if it goes well I'll hopefully post more.)

Warnings: Swearing, that's really it. Insecurities, reader is compared to another (girl) character.

I walk into the kitchen and hand a bill to Scott. He glances up at me, only for a second, before flipping a few burgers on the grill top.

“Cooks don’t take tips,” he says plainly.

“He wanted me to give it to you, specifically,” I rebuttal, almost muttering in annoyance. If Scott notices, he doesn’t show it. “‘‘My compliments to the chef,’ or whatever.”

“Cooks don’t take tips,” Scott repeats, and he stops what he’s doing before moving onto something else. “Ten bucks? How much did he give you?”

I grumble. “Five.”

“Five?” Scott asks, slightly miffed. “Well, you should definitely keep it then. Five bucks? That’s like, barely twenty percent, even if he only ordered a kid’s meal.”

“He had two kids' meals,” I say, this time definitely muttering. Scott raises an eyebrow, and I nod my head towards the dining room. “Table thirteen, party of four. Parents and their two kids. Will you just take the ten, Scott?”

“I’m not taking the ten, Y/N. He looks over my head, through the kitchen window towards Table 13. “And you should’ve told me before they left. I would’ve gotten you a tip.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I say, a slight smile before pushing the money into his hands. “Take the money, Scott. I don’t want it.”

He pushes my hands back towards my torso. “I’m not taking it, Y/N. Especially after he stiffed you so much.”

“Fine,” I shrug indifferently. “I’m putting it in the register, then.”

He grabs my arm as I walk past him, both gentle and firm. His calloused hands are rough against my skin, and though he’s been by the grill all day he’s still cold enough for me to shiver. “Can’t do that. You’ll throw off the pull. Keep the money, Y/N. Seriously.”

I shake him off. “I don’t want it!” I almost shout, and a few of the servers walking past the two of us look over at me in surprise. Even Scott looks taken aback, showing more emotion than I’ve probably ever seen from him.

“What’s the deal?” He asks quietly. His tone is normal, neutral and calm as ever, but I can tell he’s worried, or at least curious.

I avoid his eyes. “Nothing.” I catch the attention of one of the other servers, Kara, as she walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, Kara,” I say, getting her attention. “I found a ten out in the parking lot. You want it? I know you’re saving up for school.”

Kara, though briefly confused, smiles as she takes the money from my hand. “Thanks, Y/N!”

“No problem,” I reply, satisfied. When she walks back out to the dining room I take off, refusing to look back at Scott. I hear him start to follow me, but one of the fryer timers goes off and he reluctantly turns his attention back to the kitchen.

I’m in the walk-in freezer for about three minutes before the door opens and Scott enters, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you hiding in the walk-in?” He asks.

“I’m not hiding” I reply, defiant. “I’m looking for something.”

“Which is?” When I don’t answer, he speaks again. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Scott.”

“Are you sure? Because you just turned down free money.”

“So did you.”

“Cooks don’t take tips.”

“It wasn’t my tip to take.”

“It wasn’t Kara’s, either.”

“It probably would’ve been, had she taken the table.”

“Didn’t you say he only gave you five dollars?” His eyebrows furrow again, confused. “Bad tippers are bad tippers, regardless of who's giving them the food. He would’ve found a problem with Kara's service too.”

“Doubt it,” I mumble.

“Doubt it? Why’s that?”

“Come on, Scott,” I scoff.

“‘Come on, Scott,’ what? What am I missing?”

“There wasn’t an issue with the service. There was an issue with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, Scott. Look at Kara, look at me, and tell me who you think is getting better tips.”

Realization flashes across his face, and his eyes narrow. “You’re talking about how you look.”

I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Yes, Scott, I am.”

“Well, don’t. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. It’s documented, and it’s true. Pretty servers get better tips, even if the quality of service is the same. It’s just how it is.”

“And you’re saying you’re not one of the ‘pretty servers’?” He puts air quotes around the words. When I nod, he grunts. “Fuck off.”

“Did you just tell me to fuck off?” I ask in angry surprise.

“I did.”

His double-down shocks me even more, but even more than that I’m angry. Angry at Scott for not understanding where I’m coming from, and angry at the whole system for being unfair, and angry at that guy at Table 13 for making me feel this way.

“Whatever, Scott. You’re a guy, and you’re you, so you wouldn’t get it.

I try to push past him to leave the walk-in, but he stops me. All of a sudden, in one quick, fluid motion, he’s bent down so our faces are on the same level, and he kisses me. He holds my cheek in one hand, my upper arm in the other, pulling me closer to him as seconds go by. I can’t tell how long we’re actually kissing for, but after a second-long eternity he’s pulled away from me, leaving me confused and wanting more. I don’t remember placing my hand behind his neck, but it falls back to my side as he stands up slowly.

“Stop saying you’re not pretty,” he says, simply. His eyes are focused on mine, making sure I understand how serious he’s being.

Before I can reply, he turns around and walks out of the freezer.

[tj-is-down]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Back again with another random fic for y'all. This is not proofread, so don't hate me!

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been on and off "together" for years now, keeping it secret. Until, suddenly, one of them decides they might want more.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: None except some swearing, and reader is described femininely in this one.

Here’s the thing about Humble Creek: everybody knows everybody. A small town made up of just under five thousand, there was nothing that anybody could do in secret, because if one person knew, then it was just as if they’d taken a bullhorn and announced it to the entire town.

Which made Y/N’s life all the harder. See, she did have a secret, and although it hadn’t gotten out yet, its secrecy was held in the hands of a monster. A tyrant, a tool, a pain-in-the-ass douchebag with a cowboy hat and a Texas accent.

Tyler Owens.

Y/N had known he was trouble since they were kids. Growing up on rival ranches, they were destined to be enemies, and even more so, to blur the lines. Y/N had never trusted him. Not because their families were constantly fighting, as she believed everybody deserved their own chance to prove themself, but because he had fucked his up, royally. 

In elementary school, middle school, high school, Tyler was always the talk of the town. Always with a girl on his arm, Tyler was confident, and everybody else was just putty in his hands. Y/N told herself she didn’t understand what people saw in him. 

She lied.

It started in eighth grade, when Tyler showed up in a too-big tux and a bouquet of flowers he’d handpicked from his family’s garden.

“You wanna go to the dance?” He asked, grinning cockily. Even then he knew how to charm, before he even knew what charm was.

Y/N’s dad had said no, absolutely no way, but Y/N was in her rebellious phase and so this only pushed her to say yes. She went out right then, in her mud-stained t-shirt and jeans, and they’d walked to the school together at seven p.m. and walked home together at nine. He’d kissed her cheek goodnight and she’d wiped it off, embarrassed.

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“And you’re pretty, L/N.”

On the next Monday he came to school with Cherry Lee.

Y/N tried to be mad. She tried to hate Tyler, to swear that she’d never talk to him or think about him or even look at him ever again. But two months later, when Tyler and Cherry broke up, he’d knocked on her door when he knew her parents weren’t home and, against her better judgment, she’d let him inside.

They’d been on-and-off “together” ever since.

Now, Tyler wasn’t single for long intervals, usually just a couple of weeks here and there, and he would never cheat, nor would Y/N let herself become a homewrecker (no matter how fragile the relationship), but when Tyler showed up on her doorstep, bouquet in hands and that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She was an adult now, but still, she couldn’t resist those eyes. Tyler had been single since before leaving for college, and when he came back it was like he’d never left. Sure, now he had a truck, a big name, a crew, and a YouTube channel, but he still had those eyes, and his family still had a garden with a never-ending supply of flowers.

He showed up on her door one morning, after her parents had left for church.

“Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door. As always, a t-shirt and jeans, dirty from the morning’s work on the farm.

“You’re not at church?”

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, maybe the two and I can practice praying on our own? I think the first step is kneeling down; you wanna start?”

Y/N went to close the door, but Tyler’s hand reached out to prop it open.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he said, laying the accent on thick. “You want to go for a drive? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Hold the coffee,” she said, walking past him. “I’d rather not have anyone see us together.”

He grabbed her waist and stood behind her, kissing her neck. “We’ve been doing this for years, babe. No one’s gonna find out, I promise.”

She leaned her head towards him, breathing in the scent of firewood mixed with his cologne. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You gettin’ sappy on me?” He asked. Though his voice was soft, she could feel his smirk.

“Nope.” She pulled out of his grasp and got into the passenger seat of his truck. “We going, or are you just gonna stand there looking all doe-eyed?”

“For you, I’d stand here all day, sweetheart.”

“Just get in the car, Romeo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*** 

They drove for a while, to the outskirts of town, when Tyler stopped the truck and leaned over. He kissed her lips, hard and slow, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. She reciprocated, holding his bicep, moving her mouth in tandem with his and letting herself fall into him.

“Why are you being so love-y today?” She asked after they separated.

“I can’t show my girl some love?”

“Is that what I am? ‘Your girl’?”

He shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“You’re annoying, Owens.” She pushed his shoulder.

He mock-pushed her back as he said, “You’re pretty, L/N.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously, though, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Y/N scoffed. “Are you about to ask me out?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Okay, good.”

“Would that be so bad of me?”

“Kinda.” Y/N breathed a laugh, but when she saw Tyler’s face, serious and a little upset, she stopped. “I mean, it’s not like we have the best thing going on here anyways, and I just don’t want to be—” She paused, about to say heartbroken, or used, or a placeholder for when you find someone better, but Tyler cut her off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He started the truck, engine roaring to life. “It was dumb, nevermind. I’ll take you home.”

“Tyler, you know what I meant—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just messing around, right? That’s all this is, just messing around.”

He didn’t say another word on the ride home. 

He dropped her off, barely waiting for her to shut the truck door before he drove away.

***

Tyler didn’t answer any of Y/N’s calls or texts for the next few days. Y/N was upset, barely leaving her room checking her phone obsessively for any sign of Tyler Owens. She even started watching his YouTube channel, but there hadn’t been any uploads for over a month. Nothing on Instagram or Facebook, either.

Her mother yelled up the stairs to her one night, calling her down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her mom said upon seeing Y/N.

“This is what I always wear. Why?” Y/N was suddenly self conscious, confused as to why her parents cared what she wore in the house.

“Tonight’s the fair,” her mother responded, attempting to jog her memory.

“You’re helping us run our booth?” Her father tried.

“Ah, shit,” Y/N mumbled, remembering. “Do I have to go? I totally forgot.”

“Of course you have to go!” Her father said. “We need the three of us there; it’s a family ranch, remember?”

“Besides,” her mother added. “The Owens’s will be there. We can’t let them get a leg up on us! If you’re not there, Tyler will be running the show for sure.”

“Well, maybe not,” her father said. “He’s doing the kissing booth, remember?”

“The what?” Y/N said. “Tyler’s doing a kissing booth?”

Her father nodded. “To raise funds for his family’s ranch. He and his whole ‘team’ will be there, whatever they’re called.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. Was that what Tyler was trying to talk to her about the other day? The kissing booth? But why would it matter what Y/N thought about it?

Her mother ushered her up the stairs. “For Pete’s sake, change into something nice, and quickly!”

Oh, shit.

***

The Humble Creek Fair was bustling with energy. People from nearby towns came to see what it was all about, and it was always the most popular time of year.

Y/N sat at her family’s booth, eyes peeled for Tyler. She kept checking her phone to see if he’d answered, but when she didn’t get any notifications she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to her parents.

They both nodded, and her father added, “Make sure to see how the Owens’ booth is doing. I want to make sure we’ll still be in business next year.”

Y/N looked around for the kissing booth, and when she saw a long line of women, she followed it to the front. She walked around to the back of the attraction, but didn’t see Tyler anywhere. It wasn’t until she’d nearly given up entirely when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you wearing?”

She whisked around, coming face-to-face with Tyler, who was holding some sort of weird meat on a stick.

“What are you eating?”

“Pork leg, fried and marinated in pickle juice,” he said, shrugging. “I’m hoping it’ll make my breath smell bad so less people come up. Now, back to you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re wearing a dress. You never wear dresses. ‘Jeans and a t-shirt, that’s me,’” he says, doing a poor impression of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. What’s your deal?”

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. “I wanted to, I guess.”

Tyler looked at her dead-on. “You look nice, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been texting you for days. No response. But now that I’m here, all I get is, ‘I look nice’?” 

“What else do you want from me?”

“An answer, Tyler. What’s your deal? Why didn’t you tell me about the kissing booth?”

“I tried to, but then you came at me with all that ‘this is a bad idea’ crap, and I figured you didn’t want me to tell you. Or you didn’t care if I told you or not.”

“Okay, so—”

“Wait.” He stops her. “Do you care?”

Y/N kicks the ground. “If I did?”

“If you did,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’d drop the pork leg and kiss you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d eat the pork leg, and I’d kiss a bunch of people who aren’t you, and I’d feel like shit about it.” He took another step closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. “Please say you care.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed. “You’re gonna make me say it? You can’t just, like, infer from the situation?”

“I’m really bad at inferring things,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “So, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“You’re pretty, L/N. Like, so pretty. But I do need to hear you say it, and I’m also gonna need you to—”

“I care, Tyler. Now shut up and kiss me, or I’m gonna take it back.”

“Can’t take it back, babe. It’s set in stone.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped the pork leg, grabbed Y/N by the waist with his other hand, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, not like any of the other times they’ve kissed. They kept it going for as long as they can, holding their breath until they couldn’t anymore, and then they pulled apart, gasping for air with their foreheads touching.

“Will you go out with me?” He asked her, still struggling for air. “Like, on a real date, not just driving in the truck?”

“I guess,” Y/N said, teasingly. “If I have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. But if you do, I’m gonna need you to wear this again.” He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Because, if I’m being honest, L/N, this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you. Like, I didn’t think you could get hotter, but here we are. Speaking of, can we go? I really want to go somewhere with you. Like, privately.” He winked at her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes again.

“Don’t you need to raise money for your farm?” She asked him, gesturing to the booth behind them.

“Fuck the farm,” he said. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling him into another kiss.

“Seriously though, can we go?”

[tj-is-down]

Squire Squabble (pt. 2) Podrick Payne x reader

Here's part 2, also written in 2022 (these been in the drafts foreveeeeer). I hope you like it! :)

Summary: After being forced to spend the night in close quarters, Pod and Y/N find themselves traveling together a few more days.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: Read part 1 first! Also written w/ a feminine character in mind, but going forward in future fics that likely won't be the case (it will be gender neutral). Enjoy!

When Y/N wakes up, the tent is empty. Pod must’ve woken up already and went to eat. When Y/N leaves the tent, their suspicions are confirmed, as Pod sits by the fire along with Brienne and Carac. Upon seeing them approach, his eyes flicker quickly away, finding sudden interest in the grass by his feet. Y/N sits beside Ser Carac and begins to cook their food, roasting it on the open fire.

“How’d you sleep?” Ser Carac asks them nonchalantly.

“Very well, thank you,” Y/N replies.

“How was the tent?” Ser Carac continues, looking to Pod. “You didn’t dishonor my squire, did you?”

Brienne’s eyes widen in surprise at the accusation, but Pod merely takes another bite of his food. “Not for all the gold in the world, Ser.”

Y/N glares at him, but before they have a minute to say anything, Brienne conveniently yet unknowingly steps in.

“Pod, we’ll be traveling with Ser Carac and Y/N until we reach Wolf’s Wood, then we’ll be splitting off. That gives us at least another three day’s traveling. The two of you think you can keep from killing each other until then?” She asks, referencing you and Pod. “We’ll stop and get another tent at the next market. Until then, the two of you are sharing.”

Pod opens his mouth to say something, but at the sight of Brienne’s stern look, he closes it, instead choosing to grunt an acceptance as he takes another bite of food. Y/N similarly sighs before nodding their head in defeat.

The next three days are going to be long.

* * *

The day’s ride is silent, almost no one saying anything except the occasional words to their horse in order to keep them moving in the right direction. None of them are really talkers anyway, other than Ser Carac, who loves the sound of his own voice, as the other three know very well at this point in the journey. Y/N, however, is seething, still angry over Pod’s comment earlier in the morning. They say nothing about it until the two are alone, hitting him upside the head as they finish setting up the tent. He turns to them, equally angered and confused.

“What was that for?”

“You know what it was for.”

“Obviously I don’t, or I wouldn’t have asked. I dislike the sound of your voice, and if I can go on without hearing it, I will.”

“You’ve made that clear. What was it you said earlier? ‘Not for all the gold in the world,’ right? You wouldn’t sleep with me for all the gold in the world.”

“Are you angered by that?” He asks, even more puzzled than before.

“Yes, I am,” Y/N responds matter-of-factly.

“And why would that be?” Pod inquires before shaking his head. “Actually, I don’t care. Be angry all you want; I’m going to sleep.” He turns and moves into the tent, Y/N following behind him. “And don’t keep me up all night again, I swear to the gods, Y/N--”

“Last night was the closest you’ve ever even been to anyone in the bedroom, and it wasn’t even a romantic encounter,” Y/N says pointedly.

Pod stops what he’s doing and turns back to Y/N. He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not true,” he says simply. “I’ve been with plenty of people.”

Y/N shrugs. “Sure you have. And I’m the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“Very funny. I don’t need to prove myself to you. I know who I am, and who I’ve been with. But above all, I’m humble, and humble men don’t share their conquests outside of the bedroom.” He smirks at them, satisfied with his answer. “Especially with the inexperienced such as yourself.”

Y/N scoffs. “You think you’ve more experience than me?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?”

“Yeah,” Y/N says, shrugging their shoulders. “You say you’re so experienced; prove it.”

Pod is wide-eyed for a moment, stuck in his tracks. Y/N thinks they’ve won, convinced they’ve cured themselves of Podrick’s self-righteous attitude, but he shakes his head slightly and takes a step forward.

“Alright, fine. Sit down.”

Y/N sits on the floor of the tent, as does Pod.

He reaches out his right hand and places it on the back of their neck, his thumb resting on their cheek. He leans closer, slowly, and closes his eyes. Y/N closes theirs only for a second before opening them back up again, nerves getting the best of them. This confuses them; they’ve never been nervous--let alone this nervous--about anything. But they can’t back out, not without letting Pod win, and that’s not happening. They feel his breath on their face as he gets closer, the gap between them getting smaller and smaller. Suddenly, Pod stops.

“I know you’re bluffing,” he whispers, the hint of triumph in his voice.

“What?”

“You keep moving your head back,” he says before letting go of them and backing away. He raises his voice back to a normal volume. “You’re bluffing, about knowing more than me. I doubt you know anything at all. Like I said, inexperienced.”

“That’s not true,” Y/N says, stammering over their words. “I got nervous, it happens. Sorry I don’t want to kiss--”

“Nervous!” Pod laughs. “Of course you’re nervous. Because you’re you, and I’m me, and you can’t handle it. Start with someone smaller, or, you know, more your speed. You can work your way back up, and when you’re ready, maybe I’ll still be around.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting his words mull over in their mind. Sure, he might be right, but they’ll be damned before they let him figure that out. 

“Fuck it,” they mutter to themselves, before leaning forward and kissing him.

Pod, although confused at first, moves into it, putting his hand back where it was on their neck. The two of them fight for dominance, finally putting their anger for each other towards something useful.

After a few seconds Y/N pulls away, out of breath. Pod, however, seems to be unfazed. “Not bad,” he says nonchalantly. “Could be better though. You need more practice.”

He leans in to kiss them. “I hate you,” they respond before placing their lips on his.

“Good,” he says between kissing them. “That’s good.” Another kiss. “Use that.”

Another kiss. “Shut up, Podrick.”

“Mmhmm.”

* * *

Y/N wakes up while the sun is just rising, rays just barely sneaking through the fabric of the tent. Their head is laid on Pod’s chest, the two of them lying in a “T” position. One of Pod’s arms rests under his head, the other laying across Y/N’s body, his thumb running up and down.

“Good morning, Podrick,” Y/N says, not moving from their position.

“Morning, Y/N.”

Despite the neutral tone of his voice, something changed between Pod and Y/N in the night, whether they realized it consciously or not. Y/N stretched their legs, fighting butterflies in their stomach. Does Pod feel the way they do? What would he say when Ser Carac and Brienne ask about their night’s sleep?

“It’s too early to be thinking so hard, Y/N,” Pod says, noticing the scrunched look on their face.

“How much gold am I worth?” Y/N asks.

“What?”

“How much gold am I worth?”

Pod sighs. “Is this about what I said yesterday?”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay,” Pod says, thinking. After a moment of silence, he responds. “None.”

Y/N sits up immediately. “None?”

Pod smirks. “Yeah.” He adjusts his position so he’s sitting up, leaning on his elbows. “Gold is such a waste, don’t you think? You’re worth much more, in my opinion.”

The look of anger on Y/N’s face dissipates, replaced instead by a small smile. They cough into their arm in order to hide it.

“Of course, your kissing could use more work.” He smirks wider, raising an eyebrow. He moves closer to Y/N, giving them a quick peck on the mouth. “Would you like to practice some more? I think we’ve got some time before Lady Brienne and Ser Carac wake.”

Y/N rolls their eyes. “What makes you think I would want to do that?”

“Perhaps it was the way you were throwing yourself at me last night,” Pod responds arrogantly.

Y/N scoffs. “That’s entirely untrue. If I recall, it was you who started it all.”

“I disagree. You and all that ‘prove it’ nonsense, yeah? You were basically begging me to kiss you, I think.”

“Well, you’ve thought wrong, as per usual.”

Pod nods his head, mocking. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m wrong to say that you like me?”

“Absolutely wrong.”

“Alright. So I won’t kiss you then.”

“Good. Don’t.”

“Good. I won’t.”

Pod starts to stand up, but Y/N pulls him back down. He raises an eyebrow.

“What’s this, then?” He asks, triumphantly.

“I said I didn’t want you to kiss me,” Y/N whispers, pressing their forehead against Podrick’s. “I never said anything about me kissing you.”

“Hm. Fair enough.”

Y/N laughs before pressing their lips to his. He slowly pushes them backwards, hands interlocked as he lays on top of them.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Podrick Payne.”

Pod laughs. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

[tj-is-down]

Squire Squabble (pt. 1) Podrick Payne x reader

So, I wrote this fic in 2022 and it's been sitting in my Google Docs ever since. Enjoy it! There's a Part Two that I'll probably post tomorrow.

Summary: Pod and Brienne meet one of Brienne's old acquaintances while traveling, and Pod does not get along with the man's squire.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, maybe? I can't remember. But I know that's really it. Also, most of my fics are gender neutral, but this one is written with a feminine reader in mind. Sorry!

Pod and Brienne sit in a tavern at nightfall. Pod is eating quickly and hungrily, having not eaten anything since the day prior. His fault, really, messing up the fire and forgetting to skin the rabbit and--well, it’s best not to get into it all. Brienne, he notices, isn’t eating, despite having eaten the same amount as he has in the last twenty-four hours, which is none.

“Are you not going to eat, my lady?” He asks, mouth full of food.

Brienne doesn’t answer, instead continuing to glare in the direction of another table behind Podrick. He goes to turn his head, but is stopped by Brienne.

“Don’t you dare,” she grunts, freezing him in motion.

He slowly turns back to face her. “What are you looking at?”

“Not what,” Brienne clarifies, “who. In this case, Ser Carac McLane of Tarth.”

Pod waits for her to continue, confused. “Who?”

“We grew up together,” Brienne says, “and he tormented me every day of my life. Everything I did, he had to be better. Learned to fight before me--because he’s a man, of course--and he’s never let me live it down. He thinks that age somehow triumphs over experience and skill--two things I have, and he doesn’t. He’s arrogant, ignorant, and classless. And that’s not the half of it.”

“How long has it been since you’ve last seen each other?” Pod asks, taking another bite. “Perhaps he’s changed, or--”

“People like him aren’t ones who change, Podrick,” Brienne interrupts. Her face suddenly drops. “Shit. He’s walking over. Stop eating, and sit up straight. Don’t give him any reason to critique you. Podrick, I said stop eating!”

How am I supposed to swallow this if I can’t chew? Pod thinks, yet he doesn’t have another second to resolve his issue before they are approached by Ser Carac, along with a younger individual about the same age as Pod.

Brienne stiffens, moving to stand up, but Ser Carac waves her off. “No need for formalities, Brienne of Tarth. We’re past that by now, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so, Ser Carac of Tarth,” Brienne responds. “This is my squire, Podrick Payne.” She gestures to Pod, who nods his head, mouth still full of food. Ser Carac nods in his direction, yet his companion doesn’t, instead choosing to half-smirk at him, seeing right through his facade. He glares back at them, trying to be as menacing as possible. He realizes, however, that it’s entirely useless, as he looks like a chipmunk with his mouth full of food.

“You’ve a squire now?” Ser Carac asks incredulously. “I never thought I’d see the day you reached such a high rank. This is Y/N, my squire.”

 “What brings you to this area?” Brienne asks. “I’d have thought you were retired, old as you are.”

“Might I remind you, I’m not much older than you,” Carac states.

“Your lack of hair could’ve fooled me,” Brienne replies. Podrick nearly spits out his food holding back a laugh. He’ll have to commend Brienne for that later.

Both Carac and Y/N look over at him, Y/N shooting daggers at him. Carac, however, seems to ignore it, instead turning back to Brienne.

“Well, as much as it was a pleasure seeing you, we must be off.”

“Don’t choke, Podrick,” Y/N says,harshly patting him on the back before turning to walk away. Pod starts coughing, the food getting stuck in his throat. He quickly gulps from his cup and turns back to glare at Y/N. They’re looking over their shoulder at him, half-smirking. 

Pod decides at this moment that he dislikes them. Immensely.

“Told you,” Brienne says.

* * *

Pod and Brienne are long beyond the tavern now, about a day’s journey out. The sun is concluding its descent, and the two have decided to stop for the night, when they see the faint orange glow of a fire coming through the trees.

“Should we see about that up there?” Pod asks.

“Well, seeing as you can’t start a fire for shit, there’s no harm in joining those who already have one going, is there?” Brienne replies.

Apparently there was harm in joining those who already have a fire, since those happened to be Ser Carac and Y/N, who seem to have just begun to make camp.

“Lady Brienne, what a surprise!” Ser Carac says, although he seems more annoyed than surprised. “I didn’t know you were going this way. We could have traveled together. Although, I know how much you enjoy your beauty sleep, despite its lack of effect. I, on the other hand, wake up with the sun.”

Brienne rolls her eyes, ignoring his comment. “Would you mind if we joined you, Ser Carac? I would hate to intrude.”

“Too late for that,” Carac mutters. “But since you’re here, please, join us.”

Pod and Brienne dismount their horses, tying them up to a couple of nearby trees. Y/N stares at them as they do so, eyes following their movements. “Lady Brienne,” they say, nodding their head. “Podrick,” they add, suddenly stone cold and straight faced.

He doesn’t reply, instead taking a seat across from them by the fire.

After an hour or so, Carac speaks up. “I’m getting tired. Y/N, Podrick, make up our tents, won’t you?”

The two nod, getting up to do as he says.

They walk a short ways away from the fire, making sure they’re within eyesight but far enough away that they’re hidden if anyone sees the fire from afar and comes to attack them. Now that night’s fallen, it’s too cold to be without fire, regardless of the dangers. Pod and Y/N work silently, a wordless agreement that despite their dislike for each other, putting the tents up together is much faster than doing it alone. They put the first two up effortlessly, but when it comes to the third, things all come crashing down--literally.

Pod pulls a piece of fabric from the pile at the same time as Y/N, who then attempts to take it away from him. He pulls it back towards himself and Y/N does the same, resulting in a competition tug-of-war. After a moment, they hear the sound of the fabric tearing, and sure enough, the cover is ripped in half.

“You ripped the tent,” Y/N shouts, angry and nervous at the same time. “And now I’m going to have to answer for it.”

“That’s because it’s your fault,” Pod retorts. “You pulled too hard on the cloth, not me.”

Y/N scoffs. “Are you joking? You’re the one who pulled too hard. And I don’t appreciate--”

Pod speaks up, interrupting. “Now, that is not true, and I don’t appreciate--”

Before long, the two are in a brawl, shouting over one another and shooting daggers with their eyes.

“What’s going on here?” Brienne says as she and Ser Carac approach the pair.

“Your squire ripped the tent,” Y/N and Pod say to Brienne and Carac at the same time. They glare at each other at the realization.

“We’ve lost a tent?” Brianne asks rhetorically. “Well, I’m not sleeping on the ground. Are you, Ser Carac?”

He shakes his head. “I am not.”

“Well, then. That settles it.”

“I’m not sleeping on the bare ground,” Y/N says, turning to Pod and crossing their arms. “Be a good squire, will you?”

“Absolutely not,” Pod laughs. “You’re the one who ripped the tent, you should be sleeping on the ground.”

“You can’t be serious, I--”

“Both of you, sleep in the tent,” Ser Carac interrupts. “Or you can both sleep on the ground.”

At the sight of their faces, Brienne smirks. “And we don’t want to hear another word from either of you about it. That’s an order, Podrick.”

“You too, Y/N,” Ser Carac adds. With that, the two disappear into their tents.

“Since when did those two get along?” Y/N mumbles, staring after them, while Pod starts gathering the leftover materials for the last tent. He gets a fair bit through before catching Y/N’s attention.

“What are you doing?” They whisper to him, careful not to get the attention of either Brienne or Carac.

“What does it look like? I’m making up the tent.”

Y/N shrugs. “Have fun. I’m sleeping out here.”

“No, you’re not. You heard them, Y/N. Either we both sleep out here or we both sleep in there. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather a roof over my head, however thin.”

“I don’t care what orders we have, Podrick. I’m not sharing a tent with you, and I’d rather lose my hand like Jaime Lannister than sleep next to you out here.”

“Lucky for you, that can be arranged,” Pod grumbles. “Now, I’m serious Y/N. Come on. I’m not getting in trouble because you’ve decided to be a spoiled princess about this.”

“A princess? Me? Please. If anyone here’s acting that way, it’s you. Why does it matter where I sleep?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

Pod rolls his eyes before continuing. “We’ve been given orders, Y/N.” He grabs their arm and tries to pull them toward the tent. “Come on.”

Y/N pulls back. “No.”

“Y/N, please, I won’t do this all night--”

He pulls harder, but Y/N loses their footing and falls onto him, toppling into the tent.

For a minute Y/N is frozen on top of him, shocked at the quick change in position from standing up to laying down. They feel the warmth of his breath on their face, and his eyes flicker quickly to their mouth before meeting their eyes again.

“All right, Princess,” he says, slowly rolling Y/N off of him. “Off you go.”

“What did I tell you about that nickname?” They reply, exasperated.

“When are you going to realize that it doesn’t matter to me what you tell me?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You might think you’re royalty, but you aren’t. You’re a squire, just like me.”

“Believe me, I’m nothing like you.”

“Thank the gods. Now, go to sleep, will you? I’m tired.”

* * *

Pod is still awake a while later, though he’s not sure how much time has passed. Y/N shakes and stirs, clearly attempting to not make a sound. They are unsuccessful.

“You’re keeping me up,” Pod says monotonously. “Go to bed.”

“I’m cold,” they say, and Pod hears them turning to the other direction. The two are facing outward, away from each other, about a foot apart. There isn’t much space for anything more than that, since the tent is so small. The temperature has dropped drastically in the night, and although Pod has a coat, he can still feel a chill in the air.

“Aren’t you from the North?” Pod asks.

“So? I’ve not a coat, Podrick. A wolf would be cold in this weather.”

“Well, I’m not giving you my furs,” he grunts. “Then I’ll be cold.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Y/N continues to toss and turn, not caring whether or not they keep Pod awake. Why must they make him suffer just because they are?

After a moment Pod lets out an irritated sigh, and shuffles over. At the feeling of his body behind theirs, Y/N stiffens.

“What are you doing?” They ask him.

“Getting you warm. I need sleep, Y/N, and I won’t very well get that with you moving around every ten seconds. Now, come on, move closer.”

They wait a moment, he assumes in order to process his words. He’s not gotten along with Y/N since their meeting the day before, and he knows they’d rather not give in to anything he says or asks, but at this point he also knows they’re too tired and cold to care. They scoot backwards a half an inch, seemingly satisfied with the positioning as Pod wraps an arm around them. He tries to keep his face away from theirs, but eventually gives up and rests it in the crook of their neck.

“This means nothing,” Y/N asserts, stating matter-of-factly.

Pod doesn’t buy it, though. He feels their heart beating and their breath evening, giving away the comfort and ease they feel in the position you two are in. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

“I hate that nickname. And I really hate you.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

[tj-is-down]

A Quest for the Missing Henderson - Steve Harrington

Hey guys! Here's another Steve fic. Let me know what you think!

Summary: When you think Dustin goes missing, you team up with Steve Harrington, his rival babysitter, to find him. (frenemies to lovers-ish?)

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: Just some swearing here and there! (This is spoiler free! It's probably set during s4 just because I give Dustin the age 14 and Eddie Munson is mentioned, but otherwise it can take place whenever.)

Steve and I are not exactly friends. We aren’t exactly not friends, but neither of us would classify the other as such, at least not out loud. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, being next-door neighbors and all, but had never gotten close, and that was fine. At least, it was for me. There was a time when I wanted to be close with Steve, and do all the things that friends did, but that all changed in high school, when he became the King of Hawkins. I heard his truck rumble every night, saw the girls he brought home when his parents weren’t around, and even went to a few of his parties when he bothered to invite me. He had quite the reputation in Hawkins; everyone knew who Steve was and what the people he dated were like. I didn’t fit that mold, and I’ve been thankful.

After high school, Steve’s reputation changed, and I kind of felt bad for him. He has a job I know he hates and he has almost no friends, spending most of his time babysitting his ex-girlfriend’s younger brother and his friends. I can’t pity him too much, though, since I often find myself in the exact same position. As Dustin Henderson’s actual, official babysitter, I see him and his friends quite a bit, which more often than not includes Steve, and on the rarer occasion, Robin. Steve’s always stepping on my toes, convinced that he’s Dustin’s legitimate babysitter—or at least the one Dustin likes more—and is always trying to start an argument with me. He likes crawling under my skin, and he’s good at it, as much as I hate to admit it.

Take tonight, for example.

I was supposed to be babysitting Dustin, along with a few of the others in his crew, playing Dungeons and Dragons in my basement like they did when the Wheelers’ house was unavailable. Dustin’s mom told me he was going to be riding his bike to my house, something he did often when she was in a rush to get to work. He was supposed to arrive at 5, but when the doorbell hadn’t rung by 5:15, I started to get worried. I walked outside, peering up the street to see if he was there, but when I didn’t see his hat approaching over the hill or hear the sound of his bicycle, I went back inside.

I called his house. Maybe his mom had decided not to go to work today, or found someone else to babysit. Maybe Dustin was just taking his time, and hadn’t left the house yet. Either way, I was expecting someone to answer, so I was surprised when the line kept ringing and nobody picked up. I called both the Byers and Sinclairs, but had no luck at either.

I was starting to get nervous, before I heard the all too familiar sound of a truck pulling into the driveway of the house next door.

I marched over there and banged on the door, certain that Steve’s parents weren’t home. Dustin’s bike was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. Steve could have picked him up for all I knew.

Steve answered the door with a frown. “Can I help you, L/N?”

I pushed past him and into the house, ignoring his exasperated, “What are you doing?”

“I know he’s here!” 

“Who’s here?”

“Dustin. You know, about this high, curly hair, worships you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting him today? Don’t tell me you’ve lost him.” Steve smirked, like he was ready to say something pompous, but I cut him off.

“I didn’t lose him, you took him,” I said, pointing a finger at his chest. “Where is he?”

He spreads his arms wide. “Look around. Do you see him? No? Okay. There you go, you can leave now.” He ushered me out the door, standing in the doorway when I turned around.

“Wait, he’s seriously not here?” I asked. My brain started to panic. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit! What if something bad happened, Steve? What if something got him?” I started to cry, sniffling as I thought about all the bad things we’ve seen the past few years and what creature or nutjob could’ve gotten him.

“Y/N, relax, okay? He’s probably at Lucas or Will’s, okay? Why don’t you call them?” His voice softened, and I could tell he wasn’t being funny anymore.

“I already called both, he’s not there,” I said, looking up at him. “What should I do, Steve?”

He took a deep breath, thinking. “Let me grab my keys, alright? We’ll drive around and look for him. When he comes back safe and sound, then I’m the first to say ‘I told you so.’ Sound like a plan?���

That’s how I ended up here, in the passenger seat of Steve Harrington’s car, driving around Hawkins in search of a fourteen-year-old boy.

Our first stop is Family Video. Robin looks surprised to see us, and even more surprised when we tell her why we’re there.

“You two are looking for Dustin, together?” She asks incredulously. “I figure you’d make it a race, or competition, or something.”

“Yeah, well, Y/N over here was crying, so I figured I’d be a gentleman and help ‘em out.” Steve puts a hand on my shoulder, but I push him off.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” I say before turning back to Robin. “Have you seen him anywhere?”

“Not today,” she replies. “But, you guys do know he has friends his own age, right? Have you tried asking them?”

“Most of them, yeah,” Steve says.

“Most of them?”

“Well, I didn’t call the Wheelers, cause I don’t like talking to their dad. And I don’t have Max’s mom’s phone number, and I didn’t want to call Joyce Wheeler because I’m worried she’ll freak out after what happened to Will,” I say. “I’m sure he’s fine. I just want to find him before alarming anyone.”

“Why don’t we go to the Wheeler’s and Max’s and Will’s and see if he’s there, okay? We’ll see if his bike is there, and if it is, then we’ll knock on the door, okay? If it’s not there then we know he’s not,” Steve says. I nod my head. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

I start to follow him out the door but stop when I look back and see the look on Robin’s face. “What?” I ask.

She shakes her head, smirking. “Nothing.”

Steve turns back and grabs my hand, pulling me oht of the store. “Come on, slowpoke.”

He’s not at Mike’s or Will’s, so our last stop is Max’s. We pull up to her house, but it’s dark by the time we get there and her streetlight is out.

“Can you see his bike?” I ask, leaning over in front of him.

“No.” He looks at me. “You ever heard of personal space?”

“Sorry.”

He laughs. “I’m just messing with you. Get as close as you want, I just got new cologne.”

“Fuck off,” I say, jerking my head back. “You’re the worst, Harrington.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he waves me off. “So, question: why’ve you been spending so much time with Eddie Munson lately?”

I look over at him, confused. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “Dustin told me. You and Eddie are quite the pair, I hear. You guys summoning Satan and all that jazz?”

I punch his shoulder. “No. And even if we were, it’s none of your business.”

“Why isn’t it my business?”

“Why should it be your business what guys I hang out with? We’re not friends.”

He feigns pain. “Ouch. Y/N, that really hurts my feelings. Here I am, driving you around in my car, so you don’t get in trouble for losing the kid, and yet, according to you, we’re not friends. Why is that?”

“Why is what?”

“Why aren’t we friends?”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Please. Have you met yourself? You’ve got the biggest ego around! You don’t have time for friends, you’re too busy caring about yourself.”

“Alright, so, I could use a bit of an attitude adjustment; sue me. But I’ve got friends,” he adds. “Like Dustin--”

“He’s fourteen, Steve. Any friends your own age?”

“What about Robin?”

“Robin’s different,” I say. “You guys are such good friends because there’s no way she could ever like you. You’re not wasting your time trying to impress her, or get her to go on a date with you.”

“So?”

“So,” I say, “we’re not like that.”

“What do you mean? You’re saying we can’t be friends like Robin and I are friends because…” His eyes widen, first in confusion and then in realization. “Holy shit. You like me!”

“Excuse me?” I ask incredulously. “How did you get that from what I just said?”

“You said that you and I can’t be friends the way Robin and I are friends because there’s no way that Robin could like me. It’s totally impossible. But there’s a chance that you could like me; more than a chance, really, cause you do!”

“Yeah, right. There’s not a chance in hell, Harrington.”

He points his finger at me. “And all that, too. All this teasing me to hide how you actually feel about me. ‘You’re the worst, Steve Harrington, I totally hate you.’” He alters his voice to match mine and fakes sarcasm; it’s a poor imitation, but enough to get a rise out of me.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“‘I don’t sound like that,’” he continues. I frown, and his smirk grows bigger. “You’ve got it bad for me.”

“I really don’t.”

“You don’t?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

“Gladly.”

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“Say, ‘I totally don’t have a crush on you, Steve Harrington.’”

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes, making sure not to blink. “I totally don’t have a crush on you, Steve Harrington.”

He nods, refusing to break eye contact. “Great. Now say it again, but this time make it sound convincing.”

I scoff. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am. That was total bullshit! You wanna know how I know?”

You throw your hands in the air for dramatic effect. “I give up. How do you ‘know that I have a crush on you?’” I put air quotes around the phrase, ensuring he understands that I’m quoting him and not speaking for myself.

“Alright. Try this experiment with me, okay?”

He starts moving closer, leaning his head in towards mine.

I move my head back suddenly, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he says, leaning closer. “Or, trying to. But here’s the thing: I believe in consent, alright? I’m the king of consent. So, you tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop it, and we can pretend like this never happened, and I’ll leave you alone forever.” He closes his eyes and gets closer. “Just tell me and I’ll stop.”

I’m not sure what to do. When I was in high school, this was all I wanted. To be friends with Steve, to be noticed by Steve, to be with Steve. I thought that all changed when we graduated, but here I am, sitting in his car, about to kiss him. And the most confusing part is that I want to. “Steve,” I breathe, and his eyes burst open, concern on his face. He searches my face for any sign of emotion, but I just smile. “Don’t stop.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs, because his lips are on mine instantaneously. We move back and forth, establishing a rhythm, taking small but necessary breaths in between.

“I knew it,” he says after a few minutes. “You’ve got it so bad for me, dude.”

“Mhm,” I mumble in between kissing him. “Sure you did, smartass. You didn’t know anything until I let you know.”

“Yeah, right. You totally slipped up, and you know it. If I weren’t as smart as I am, we’d still be sitting here, talking about all the things you hate about me. Well, all the things you like about me, come to find out.”

“Shut up, Harrington.”

“Shut up, Harrington,” he mocks me.

The two of us start bickering again, not noticing the gang coming down the street to Max’s house until there’s a knock on Steve’s window.

“What are you guys doing here?” Dustin asks as Steve rolls down his window.

“Looking for you, asshole!” I shout, getting out of the car. “Where were you?”

“At the Byers’ house. We’re just dropping Max off. My mom didn’t tell you?”

“No! I thought something bad happened to you!” I take his bike out of his hands and put it in the bed of Steve’s truck. “Let’s go, I’m taking you home.”

“I can ride home--”

“Nope.”

“Y/N--”

“Get in the car, Henderson,” I say, walking around the truck and sitting back in the passenger seat. Steve looks over at me, a smile on his face. “What?” I ask.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to take charge.”

“I hate you,”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, Y/N,” Dustin says, interrupting our conversation. “Eddie teach you the ways of D&D yet?”

Steve looks at me, a teasing look on his face. “That’s why the two of you have been spending so much time together lately? He’s teaching you D&D?”

“I want to learn so I can help out the kids. You got a problem with that?” I ask.

“Absolutely I do. I can’t be seen dating a nerd like you,” he says, chuckling.

“Who said anything about dating?”

“Oh, so you make out with guys you have no intention of dating?”

“That’s none of your business, Harrington.”

“Will you just shut up and say you’re gonna date me already?”

I laugh. “You’ve got it bad for me, dude.”

“I really do.” He reaches out to hold my hand. I take it.

“So when did this happen?” Dustin asks from the back. “I gotta go missing more often.”

“Shut it, Henderson!”

[tj-is-down]

Meet Me in the Motel Pool - Adrian Chase

Adrian Chase Appreciation Week Day 6--Free Choice!

Hey guys, this is my first Adrian fic (second fic overall) and my first fic for appreciation week! I hope y'all like it. Also, to the Peacemakernet folks--I hope this fits in the "free choice" category! I kind of figured that meant anything goes, so this is just a bunch of different tropes thrown together.

Summary: The 11th Street Kids stop at a motel after a mission, and you and Adrian spend some time together. (fluff)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: Just a fair amount of cursing, that's it! Also, the group goes swimming but there's literally no physical description of the reader so this can be whoever you want! I want to make it so that anyone can see themselves as reader :)

The mission was long. We’re tired as we drive away from the city, having taken care of a situation at the town hall. I don’t want to get into it, but we needed to get out of there as fast as possible before the mayor’s secretary found him the next morning, dead in his office.

Adrian and Chris seem to be the only two who aren’t completely wiped out, the two of them sitting up front as Adrian drives and Chris plays air guitar to whatever crazy music he had picked out for the ride.

I lean my head back against the wall of the van, closing my eyes and attempting to get some sort of sleep before we get wherever it is we’re going. It’s an empty gesture, though; as if Adrian’s reckless driving and Chris’s loud-ass music would allow for anyone to even think about sleeping, let alone actually achieve it.

“There’s a motel about a mile away,” Leota says, and I open my eyes to see her holding up her phone, directions pulled up. “We could stop there for tonight?”

“Yes, please,” Harcourt responds. “I need a real fucking bed.”

“Me too,” Economos adds.

“You guys are pussies,” Chris says. “‘I need a real bed, I’ve never been to prison, I can’t deal with even the most minor inconveniences because I’m a little bitch,’” he continues in a high-pitched voice, a poor imitation of Harcourt. Adrian laughs characteristically loud, finding Chris’s joke to be more funny than it’s meant to be.

Harcourt flips the two of them off. “Fuck you, jailbird.”

“Hey!” Chris shouts, pointing at her. “Say some negative shit about birds, I dare you!”

The two of them erupt into bickering for a few minutes before the van slows to a stop and Adrian tells them both to knock it the fuck off.

“We’re here,” he says. “Harcourt, get us rooms?” He asks.

The five of us grab our bags out of the van before meeting Harcourt at the front of the motel and grabbing our individual room keys.

“Hey, there’s a pool back there!” Chris says, pointing to the other side of the parking lot. “Anyone down for a swim?”

“Absolutely not,” Harcourt says, turning around and walking towards her room.

“Dye-Beard, you in?” Chris asks Economos. Economos just flips him off in response.

“Pussies!” He shouts before turning to Adebayo. “Leota?” He asks hopefully.

She shrugs. “Sure. I could go for a swim.”

He fist-bumps the air. “Hell yeah! Vig, Y/N? You guys coming?”

“I’ll go,” Adrian says. He turns to me. Y/N?”

Truth be told, I’m tired as shit. But Adrian’s got that effect on me, where all he’s got to do is ask, and I’m there. So I nod, and the four of us make our way up to our rooms before changing into swimming clothes and meeting at the pool.

“The sign says it’s closed,” I say as we approach the gate to the pool.

Chris and Adrian are both wearing shorts and no shirt, while Leota wears a t-shirt and shorts, like me. None of us packed a bathing suit on this mission (why would we need to?), so we’re making do with what we have. It was hard not to stare at Adrian, who normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing so few clothes. When he wasn’t wearing his suit he was typically seen in a sweater and jeans, even in the summer. He looked over at me and I quickly averted my eyes, finding myself interested in a rock on the ground.

“Who gives a shit if it’s closed?” Chris asks. “That’s rhetorical. No one gives a shit, Y/N. Come on!”

He’s got a point. We just killed someone two hours ago; what’s a sign to stop us from doing whatever we want?

It was a good decision. The tiredness I was feeling is quickly replaced by relaxation, and I find myself unwinding for once, rather than the other way around. It’s nice to have this time with the team--minus Emilia and John--since we’re so rarely able to just sit and chill, our time mostly taken up by world-ending threats and Chris’s bigoted family members. We act like children, having races from one side of the pool to the other and back, playing chicken, and seeing who can hold their breath the longest. Chris almost drowns during the last bit, convinced he can breathe underwater due to a technique that he swears King Shark taught him.

After a little while, both Chris and Leota decide to go back to their hotel rooms, but I don’t miss the look they share between them, like they’re keeping a secret. They both wink at me, and it becomes obvious what that secret is, and even more obvious that they’ve orchestrated this on purpose, to try to get me to spend some more time alone with Adrian.

“Everything okay?” Adrian asks, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah!” I tell him. “I’m good.”

“Good,” he says. “‘Cause I’m still not tired.”

“Me neither.”

He takes a deep breath. “You wanna play mermaids?” He asks, only-half joking.

“Hell yeah,” I answer. “But only if I can get the blue tail.”

“No fair! I want the blue tail! Blue is my signature color, and you know that.”

“I thought teal was your signature color?”

“Teal is a shade of blue, Y/N!”

“Oh, is it?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. “Too bad.”

With no warning, he darts across the pool, picking me up and cradling me in his arms. 

“Can I have teal now?” He asks innocently, as if I’m not being physically blackmailed.

I shake my head, refusing to back down. 

He drops me in the water. I flail for a moment, waiting until my brain gathers its sense of direction before pushing off the pool floor and gasping for air as I hit the water’s surface. I cough and sputter a few times, catching my breath, and Adrian raises an eyebrow.

“You good?” He asks. He doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “Need CPR?”

“Mouth-to-mouth? From you?” I wink. “Always.”

He looks down at the pool, embarrassed. I’m worried I’ve crossed a line, so I walk over to him. “Hey, Ade, I was joking--”

Suddenly, he’s splashing me, laughing while pushing gallons of water in my direction. “Yeah, right! You wanna kiss me so bad.”

I start splashing him back, trying to get more water in his direction than he’s trying to get in mine. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do!” He shouts back over the sound of the water.

“Do not!”

“Do, too!”

“Do not!”

I’m so invested in winning this battle that I don’t even notice when he’s stopped splashing back, instead walking slowly towards me. He stops barely a step away, and I stop splashing when I see the serious look on his face.

“You do want to kiss me,” he says, softly. He says it matter-of-factly, like he knows it’s true without having to ask me.

He’s right, of course. “I want to kiss you.”

He grabs my face, closing the short gap between us. I fall into him, letting him lead and take control. It’s the perfect first kiss, and I can’t help but think about how I want there to be more.

Suddenly, a breeze hits my back, and I shiver. He notices, because he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting on mine.

“You okay?” Adrian asks.

I nod. “Just cold.” We’ve been in the pool for likely more than an hour, although I have no way to tell for sure. Although I’m enjoying this--more than enjoying it, actually--I could really go for a warm shower and some sleep.

“You wanna go upstairs? C’mon.” He starts walking towards the shallow end, holding my hand and pulling me with him. When we get out he hands me my towel before taking his and drying his hair. He rustles the towel on his head for a few seconds and then takes it off to shake his head back and forth like a dog. I laugh and he stops what he’s doing, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. “Something funny?”

I laugh even more at his “serious” stance, and before long he’s picked me up over his shoulder, walking back towards the pool.

“Feel free to share your jokes with the class,” he says, “or else you’re going back for another swim.”

I cave almost immediately. “Okay, okay, fine!” I shout. He puts me down. “You’re just funny when you’re being cute, that’s all.”

His cheeks grow red, and he looks down at the ground. For once in his life--probably the first and last time--he’s speechless, and it’s another minute before he looks back up at me and smiles. “You’re cute too, you know.”

I smile back. “Thanks.”

We pick up our towels and clothes and start walking towards the motel.

“So, I know it’s kind of late, but I’m thinking we could watch a movie tonight? The Hallmark Channel’s always got something on, if you’re looking for some cheesy shit, or--”

“You want me to go back to your room?” I ask, a hint of worry in my voice. I wasn’t expecting him to ask, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for what that entails. I like Adrian--a lot--but I really don’t want to fuck anything up by moving too fast.

“Yeah, is that okay?” he replies, turning to look at me. Seeing the nervous look on my face, he quickly adds, “No, not like that! I don’t mean--I’m not trying to sleep with you. I mean, I want to sleep with you, but that’s all. Sleep. And maybe cuddle. And maybe make out some more. But that’s it, I swear!”

I chuckle. “Okay, I believe you. I’ll come up to your room, but no funny business.” I point my finger at him and he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“No funny business, I promise.” He smiles. “Unless you still think I’m funny when I’m being cute, and in that case, there will be lots of funny business. In case you didn’t know, I’m adorable.”

I lightly punch his arm. “Sure you are, Ade.”

“I totally am!”

When we get back to his room he lets me take the first shower, which I happily accept. When I get out I change back into my regular clothes and when I open the door, Adrian is half-asleep on the bed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I say, poking his shoulder. “I’m not sleeping with you if you’ve still got your bathing suit on.”

He groans but gets up. “You’re so mean to me,” he says, pouting.

I fake-pout back. “Too bad. Go take a shower and maybe when you’re done we can do some of the making out that you were talking about earlier.”

This gets his attention. He perks up and just about runs to the bathroom, placing a quick kiss on my cheek beforehand. I lay in bed and throw on the covers; despite the warmth of the shower and comforter, I’m still cold. I make the impromptu decision to run to my room to grab my jacket while Adrian’s in the shower, but stop when I see one of his sweaters laying across the chair by the door. I get up from the bed and grab it, pulling it over my head and putting my arms through the sleeves. I’m immediately enveloped in warmth, along with the scent of Adrian. I hug my shoulders, taking it all in.

I lay back on the bed, flipping through the channels for a few minutes before I hear the water turn off and Adrian comes out of the bathroom. He looks at me in brief confusion before taking off his glasses--fogged up because of the steam in the bathroom--and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

“Is that my sweater?” He asks, placing his glasses back over his eyes.

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. He plops onto the bed next to me, eyeing me up and down. “You look hot. Like, damn.”

I laugh and push him so that he almost falls off. “No funny business, remember?”

He over-exaggerates rolling his eyes. “Yes, I know. Now, c’mon. I was promised cuddles.” He takes his glasses off and places them on the nightstand, then turns back to me, opening his arms. I gladly shift over into them. He pulls the covers up over the two of us and takes the remote. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. You pick.”

“Okay. Fargo it is, then.”

I turn so that I’m facing him. “You’re so lame,” I tease.

He feigns offense. “What? Fargo is one of the greatest shows of all time. You just don’t appreciate good television.”

“Whatever, nerd.” I kiss his lips before closing my eyes and burrowing myself into his chest.

“Uh-uh. You’re not getting off that easy.” He uses his finger to lift my chin so I’m back at eye-level with him. “Say you’re sorry for calling me a nerd.”

“No way.”

He kisses me energetically, pushing his lips into mine and interlocking our fingers. “What about now?”

“Nope.”

Another kiss. “Are you sorry yet?”

I shake my head.

Another kiss.

“If you’re gonna kiss me every time I say no to you, then you’re never gonna hear the word ‘yes’ come out of my mouth.”

He thinks about it for a second before kissing me again.

“I can live with that.”

[tj-is-down]

Radio Silence - Steve Harrington

Hey guys! This is my first ever fic, I hope you like it! I’ve become a real Steve simp recently and this is a product of that. Please be kind, but I’d love any notes/feedback you guys have! Also, please don’t steal my work! Thanks in advance, y’all. 

Summary: You and Steve are best friends, until one day he stops talking to you for seemingly no reason.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: One mention (literally less than a sentence) of a parent in less than stellar health, but otherwise none! Also, both reader and Steve are of age in this fic. I tried to be gender-neutral as well, but please correct me if I messed up at all!

Steve wasn’t talking to you. At least, that’s what you’d gathered from the fact that he, well, wasn’t talking to you. You weren’t sure exactly what you’d done wrong, but you knew one thing: he was pissed. The two of you were inseparable, thick as thieves since you’d moved to Hawkins in middle school, and even after he became the “King,” and the two of you had fallen into different crowds, the two of you would always make time for each other, whether it was studying for class during the week, catching a movie on the weekend, or just general dumbassery whenever you two had a free moment. You two were peas in a pod, and although neither of you would admit it, time apart was brutal.

Things changed a little more than slightly when he started dating Nancy. For you, at least. It meant seeing Steve less and less, and you were happy for him, but you were also a little sad. Steve was your best friend, and with every science test that passed or new movie that released, you were reminded of how things were, and how you had been replaced. Steve didn’t notice, and if he did, he didn’t say anything. You were still his best friend, and Nancy was his girlfriend, and life was pretty great.

That was, until Nancy dumped him for Jonathan Buyers, he lost his friends, and his world came crashing down in front of him. You welcomed him back with open arms, even after he fell to the bottom of the social totem pole. You were there for him through it all: you were there for the shit with his parents, and when he didn’t get into college. You even stayed back for him, passing up your dream school in favor of the local community college, although Steve never needed to know that. For all he knew, NYU had rejected you, and you stayed at home so that you could be with your family. You had a four-year old brother who adored you, and your mom wasn’t in the best health. Those were reason enough to stay, and Steve wasn’t going to challenge that.

So, movie nights resumed. Study sessions looked a little different now, with Steve helping you instead of the other way around, but you were just happy to be back to normal with Steve. (Except for the monsters.)

Except, things weren’t normal. Not for Steve. Something had shifted for him after Nancy broke up with him. If he was being honest, something had shifted for him a long time before that, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Every day contained some new and terrifying…thing that he had to deal with, whether it be the Upside Down, some crazy monster, or something else entirely, and you were the only constant he had. He needed you more than anything, more than air, water, food--even more than his hair. Hell, he’d almost shaved his head when you called it stupid one time during a fight. He loved you, and he was finding it hard to keep that to himself.

That’s why it hurt so much when you told him you’d been studying with a guy you met at school. Alex Cunningham, you said his name was. You flaked on Steve to study for an upcoming mathematics test, and that was just the first time. Your study sessions became replaced by study sessions with Alex, and Steve started spending most of his weekdays at Scoops Ahoy or with the kids.

It’s when you ditched him for movie night that really pushed him over the edge. He was waiting outside the theater for twenty minutes, and when you didn’t show he went to your house to make sure you were okay. Your mom told him you weren’t home, that you had gotten picked up an hour prior by “a nice boy from school.” She invited him inside to wait, but he declined and went home, a mix between angry and depressed. He didn’t sleep that night, and when his alarm went off in the morning, he was still filled with emotion. At first he didn’t know what to do, so he decided to just keep going on as normal, as if nothing had happened.

That didn’t last long.

You came into Scoops Ahoy around noon, a smile on your face and a wave directed at him. He started waving back, but stopped when he saw the sweater fit comfortably on your body. It was…new, and at further inspection it looked a little bit oversized, as if it belonged to someone else.

Alex Cunningham.

“Hey, man, can you take them for me?” He asked his coworker. “I gotta get something from the back.” He practically ran out of the front and into the storage area, nearly slamming the door on his way. You waited for him to come back, but after an inexplicable amount of time had passed you decided to leave.

Since that half-wave, Steve hasn’t interacted with you or even looked in your direction. You seek him out during the week, going out of your way to Scoops Ahoy or whichever house the kids are hanging out at--where Steve is no doubt bound to be--but every time you show up he leaves, or busies himself with something on his own, or just straight-up ignores you. You’ve asked him plenty of times what you did wrong, to warrant the treatment you were getting, but he’d just roll his eyes or scoff. The kids didn’t know either, and if they did they weren’t telling you.

It all came to a head one day in the middle of August. You’d stopped trying to talk to Steve, for the most part, and he hadn’t seen you in months. There were a few times when he’d driven to your house and sat there, contemplating coming clean before driving off and going home. The truth is, however much you thought you missed him, he missed you more, the feeling multiplying tenfold along with the guilt he felt for cutting you out of his life. As time passed he felt you slipping away, the opportunity to make things right getting smaller and smaller.

He and Robin were playing paper football at Scoops Ahoy when the phone rang. 

“If I make this, you’re getting it,” Robin said quickly before flicking the paper triangle through his fingers.

“Fuck you, Buckley,” he said, pointing at her. He picked up the phone. “”Scoops Ahoy, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Steve, it’s Y/N. Listen, I know we’re not talking, but--”

He hung up the phone. A little bit too aggressively, because Robin looked up from what she was doing and asked, “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “Wrong number.”

The phone rang again, and his eyes widened slightly. “Don’t pick it up.”

“Why?” Robin asked, laughing. “One of your dates calling to cancel?” She picked up the phone and put on an exaggerated customer service voice. “Scoops Ahoy!” She glared at him when she realized who it was and that he had hung up on them. “Hey, Y/N, how’s it going? Sorry about Steve, he’s a dumbass. Yeah, I know, right?” She nodded her head as the conversation went on. “Uh huh, mhm, yeah, I know we have some. Anything else you need? Okay, see you in a bit.” She hung up the phone and turned back to look at Steve. “You’re a dick.”

“What did she want?”

“It’s her brother’s birthday, asshole. She wanted to know if we had any candles so she could do a little celebration for him here.”

“She’s coming here?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Steve said, grabbing his coat from the rack behind the counter.

“Uh, no you’re not,” Robin rebutted, yanking him back. “Your shift doesn’t end for hours and I am not closing this place by myself.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“I don’t care! What’s your problem, anyways? I thought you guys were best friends.”

“We are.”

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“Friends fight, okay? This is totally normal.”

“Friends fight, yes, but you guys haven’t talked in months, and from what I understand, that’s all on you.” She flicked him. “So what’s the deal?”

“Ask Alex Cunningham.”

“Who?”

“Y/N’s new boyfriend.”

“Y/N doesn’t have a--”

The two are interrupted when you enter with your younger brother. “Steve!” He shouts, running over to give Steve a hug. Forgetting his conversation with Robin, Steve picks him up.

“Hey buddy! How are you? Being good, I hope?”

Your brother nodded his head. “Today’s my birthday!”

“I know today’s your birthday! How could I forget? You’re turning ten today right?”

“No, five!” Your brother said, laughing.

“Fifty?” Steve joked back.

“No, five!”

“Five hundred?”

“No, five!”

“Ohh, you’re turning five today. You’re so big! You want some ice cream?” Your brother nodded enthusiastically and Steve put him down, leading him over to the counter. “Whatever you want, it’s on the house, okay?”

Your brother ordered a double-decker hot fudge sundae that both you and Steve knew he wouldn’t finish and ran over to one of the tables.

“You want anything?” Steve asked, and you had to physically stop the shock from showing on your face. “It’s on the house, like I said.”

“You’re speaking to me today?” You asked back, a little too assertive.

“Fine, don’t get anything. Not my problem,” he replied nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care whether or not you ordered. The truth is, he knew what you’d order, and he wanted to show you he remembered. But you didn’t get anything, instead rolling your eyes and walking over to the table with your brother.

After a few minutes of glaring back and forth across the room between you and Steve, your brother called out. “Steve! Come sit with us!”

“I can’t, buddy, I’m working,” Steve replied, looking for any excuse to stay away from you.

Robin cut in. “Go ahead Steve,” she said, loud enough for you and your brother to hear. “It’s not busy, go sit with the kid for his birthday!”

He glared at her. “Thanks a lot, Robin,” he said through gritted teeth.

She smiled back. “No problem.”

He came and sat next to your brother but didn’t say anything. That was fine, because as he’d come to realize, when you give a five-year-old ice sugar and silence, they’ll do anything to fill it.

“Steve, are you and that girl friends?” He asked, pointing to Robin.

Steve chuckled. “Yes, buddy. That’s my friend Robin.”

“She’s pretty,” your brother responded. “Hi, Robin!” He shouted, turning to wave at her.

“Hi!” She waved back.

“I totally forgot, one second,” you said, going up to the counter. You grabbed the candle from Robin and stopped to talk to her for a few minutes, leaving Steve and your brother alone for a man-to-man discussion.

“Steve, do you like Y/N?”

Steve looked over at him. “Yeah, of course I do. Y/N is my best friend.”

“No!” Your brother responded, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean, do you like-like Y/N?”

“What? No. No, buddy, I do not like-like Y/N. Besides, they’ve got a boyfriend, anyways.”

You come back to the table, oblivious to the conversation the two had just had, until your brother said, “Steve said you have a boyfriend.”

You looked up in shock, surprised that Steve had said anything about you at all. “Did he now? Who would that be?”

“I dunno,” Your brother answered. “Who is it, Steve?”

“Some guy named Alex, from what I heard,” Steve grumbled.

“Some guy named Alex,” your brother repeated. He was acting as the messenger between the two of you, since neither of you were speaking to each other.

“Well, tell Steve that I haven’t talked to Alex in months, and it’s none of his business who I talk to or don’t talk to.”

“Y/N says they haven’t talked to Alex in months,” your brother stated.

“...And?” You coaxed him.

“And it’s none of your beeswax!”

“Tell Y/N it became my business when they ditched me for movie night. And when they came in wearing his sweater back in January. And when they pretended like nothing was wrong and didn’t even apologize.”

Your brother started talking, but quickly looked back at Steve. “Can you say that again? I forgot part of it.”

“It’s okay, I got it, bud,” you told him. You looked over at Steve. “Is that why you stopped talking to me? Because I forgot about movie night?”

“You ditched me! I was waiting twenty minutes for you, and then I went to your house to make sure you were okay, and then your mom told me that you went out with this Alex guy and I’m sitting there looking like an idiot. And then the next day you come in with his sweater on like I’m not supposed to be upset about that, and then you try to talk to me like nothing’s wrong--”

“Why would you be upset about that? Why does it matter whose clothes I wear?”

“Why do you think, Y/N?”

You paused for a moment, taking in the weight of his confession. “Say it, Steve.”

“What?”

“Say it. Tell me what you’re trying to say right now, because if you’re bullshitting me I will never forgive you--”

His lips were on yours in an instant. He crossed the table with impressive speed, the corner of the wood digging into his abdomen, but he didn’t care. He’s wanted to tell you--needed to tell you--for so long, and if there was ever a time to do it, it was now. He pulled away slowly, eyes closed, not wanting to see the reaction on your face until he was sure he was ready. When he opened them, your eyes were staring back into his, a mixture of confusion, surprise, and relief.

“Was that okay?” Steve asked.

You nodded. “That was…nice.”

“That was gross!” Your brother shouted, breaking the two of you out of your bubble. “No kissing on my birthday!”

“I’m sorry, bud,” You said at the same time as Steve. “Should we light your birthday candle so you can make a wish?”

“Yes!” Your brother yelled out. “I wish I could never see the two of you kiss ever again!”

“Well, we haven’t lit the candle yet, and you told us your wish, so it’s not coming true,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss you again.

Ignoring the shouts of your brother, you kissed Steve back. “Does this mean we’re talking again?”

“If you’ll have me back.”

You laughed to yourself as you lit the candle. “You got it, Harrington.”