#Childhood best friends

[ferrarisufferer165]

Brocedes lore

The reason Brocedes can never be replicated is that it was never just a sporting rivalry. Being childhood besties with someone means bonding your inner child with someone else's, sharing your hopes and dreams with them not just saying, "I want to achieve this" but saying, " I want to achieve this with you by my side." It's the way Nico goes out of his way to mention Lewis because it makes him real, it's the way he knew Lewis was holding his breath on his pole lap before Lewis even said it himself, it's the way he is critical about Lewis but can't stand it when someone else does it, it's the way Nico asked Lewis, "you're still flat out motivated, right?" not as an interviewer but as someone who knows Lewis is a fighter through and through, it's the way that was the only time Lewis looked at Nico and smiled because he understood Nico was saying, "I know you. I remember you. I know you don't give up," it's the way Lewis has a working relationship with Alonso who bribed mechanics but refuses to say Nico's name because being hurt by someone is depthless while hating someone can be defined, it's the way Lewis said, "and a better teammate," with regret lacing his voice knowing Nico was listening as a way of acknowledging the hurt was mutual after all these years, it's the way Lewis rarely calls anyone his friend but called Nico his best friend and then stopped saying his name at all when he got hurt, it's the way shutting out your childhood best friend means suppressing your inner child who never stops loving them. It's the way hating them is never an option because hate requires the absence of love but hurt can co-exist with said love. The reason everyone still talks about Brocedes is that we all know what it feels like to lose someone knowing it can never be the same again. Brocedes was never a simple rivalry, it was the embodiment of what it means to get hurt.

[priniya]

hii, this is very specific but do you think you could write something involving fem!reader who grew up with sirius and they’re childhood best friends (but it’s only ever going to be platonic between them) and one day she transfers to hogwarts and immediately has a thing for james, however james doesn’t wanna make a move because he thinks her & sirius have some unspoken thing? <3

UNSPOKEN THINGS!

synopsis. growing up with sirius black was easy, but falling in love with his best friend was even easier. however, everything gets complicated — james keeps his distance, overthinking your relationship with sirius.

notes. i wouldn’t lie if i said i didn’t like that request, because i LOVE IT!!!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING SM?? obv. james potter x fem!reader. maybe ooc james. gonna make a part 2!

all the good things that had taken place during your childhood had always happened with sirius black by your side. having him next to you was like a pearl you’d never trade for anything. sneaking out at night as children to spend a little more time with each other, pulling small pranks on your siblings, and having a companion for every banquet was something priceless.

you wished that your friendship would survive the sudden shift, caused by your mother’s dream to come back to her roots in southern france, and who was your father to disobey the love of his life? so, he barely turned eleven, when you bid goodbyes, gave him your future address, and hoped he’d write.

since sirius black has always been a man of his words, he did not disappointed you with the amount of letters he’d sent you. some may think that it slowly died down, when you got to school, although it just intensified. you were certain that he told you at least the majority of his stories, confiding in that he was head over heels with remus, his schoolmate.

telling him you were coming back to england was definitely the letter you were delighted to write. seeing him after those years was magical — almost miraculous. unfortunately, something got delayed and you got to london the same day you’d leave for hogwarts.

“sirius!” a laughter left your mouth as soon as you noticed the black-haired boy, standing next to a group of teenagers. before sirius even realized, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him in a tight hug.

“you’re finally here!” he shouted, lifting you few inches off the ground with a smile, earning a lot of confused looks from all his friends. “couldn’t get any later, could you?” the boy rolled eyes at you, turning his head to face the confused group. “this is y/n, my first best friend.” with that, his arm was thrown around your shoulder, squeezing you a little.

before any of them spoke out, you got at least two seconds to look at them, memorizing their distinguished features, which could help you recognize them later. the boy standing the closest to you, who, you guessed, was james — the only one beside remus that sirius actually put a thought into writing about.

“nice to meet you.” he was first to greet you, embracing you in a short hug, something in his cologne almost made you lightheaded, his scent staying in your mind till falling asleep that night. “sirius couldn’t stop talking about you, always blah blah blah.”

“shut up, could you?” sirius retorted, pulling you away from the potter boy.

few hours later, you were trying to settle in your new dorm, when you heard a knock on the door. “hey.” a head peaked inside before you even got to open them. “am not interrupting something, am i?” potter asked, smile rosing on his lips as he walked in.

“noo, just trying to make this place more like mine, you know?” you smiled back, putting down a few frames with photos of you and your friends back in beauxbatons. “while you’re here, could you help me with putting books on the shelves?” curly-haired boy nodded his head eagerly, before taking a pile of books to put them where you wanted.

it was almost perfect — he was about to put the last one in its place, but something was wrong, and the book fell down, and hit him right in the nose, causing a nosebleed. “shit!” he groaned, immediately grabbing the hem of his shirt, using it like a tissue.

“merde, james i’m so sorry.” you mumbled, embarrassed. the towel quickly found its way to your hand, putting it close to his nose gently. “i’ll try to be as gentle as i can, i promise.” you whispered.

the distance between you was intimidating. his eyes focused on your faces as you carefully tried to stop the bleeding, your cheeks getting warmer with each second his sight was on you. “i’m a man made of steel, it’s fine.” he chuckled, eyes squinting right afterwards.

“i can see that.” you laughed softly, pulling the fabric away, seeing that the bleeding stopped. “don’t worry, you’re still the pretty boy you were before you got here.” blush creeped onto his cheeks upon hearing your comment.

and you stayed like that until sirius stepped into the room without knocking, catching the two of you barely inches away from each other, talking in hushed voices about something insignificant. music you like, movies you want to watch, fun summer stories and anything that found its way to your tounges.

the next few weeks were horrible, having yourself busy with all the workload you got, revising all the things you weren’t taught at your previous school, but they were compulsory at hogwarts. maybe if a certain curly-haired boy wasn’t on your mind 24/7, it’d be easier to study.

“y/n, good to see you!” marlene smiled, grabbing your arm as you were walking back to the common room after the study session you had at the library. “ready for the party?” she asked, grinning widely.

the question had taken you off guard — there was supposed to be a party and you were supposed to be ready by then? to be honest, the amount of time you put into studying, made you so exhausted you were barely standing on your own. on the other hand, the raging urge to impress sirius’ friends (specifically james) was unstoppable, and refusing the party was the last thing on your priority list.

“i’ll be in thirty minutes.” quickly, you matched her smile, stepping into the already crowded gryffindor common room, only to find sirius on the coffee table with james. “guys, this is my best friend, y/n! the party is for her!” your best friend shouted to the people, earning a few laughs and claps.

you laughed along the people, catching a brief glance of james, locking eyes with him for a little too long until he looked away, cheeks tinted pinkish. “geez, pads. let the poor girl change…?” mckinnon shook her head, pulling you away from black.

“so…” she beamed, closing the door behind her. “what’s going on with you and james?” she asked with ease, making herself comfortable on your bed, watching your inept attempts to hide how easy it was for james to make you lit up.

“nothing.” you shrugged. “geez, i feel bad for saying this since he’s sirius’ other best friend, but sometimes i really wish there was something going on. you know, he’s kind, funny, and cute.” a sigh escaped from between your lips as you looked through all the cute dresses your older sister made you buy last summer in italy.

“that’s what i thought.” she giggled, picking up makeup accessories. “well, from the way he looks at you, he seems to think you’re cute too.” she made a pause. “or he’s jealous of you, and doesn’t want to lose sirius.”

upon hearing that you decided to tell the blonde girl about those few evenings, when he just happened to be walking past your dorm and stayed with you for the whole night. “then he’s definitely interested in you.” marlene gasped, immediately jumping onto the spot next to you, grabbing the fitted, silky, red dress. “we’re gonna make him make a move. i swear, this boy won’t be able to stop himself.”

twenty-five minutes later, when you were already done with shower and trying to convince marlene to let you do make up on your own (which didn’t work out and she wanted to do it herself), you were sitting in front of the girl, legs crossed as she did the perfect line on your eyelid, once in a while stealing a glance of your bra.

“think about me if things are shitty with potter, yeah?” her smile made you roll eyes jokingly. “okayy, let’s take a quick pic of the masterpiece and go.” she quickly grabbed the camera from a shelf, snapped a picture of you, and her in the mirror, and left the room shortly after.

you remember the look james gave you, when he finally noticed you came back. he didn’t know if it was just him, but you looked like you could compete with world-level models. seeing you like that caused his heart to do a flip. just when he was about to walk up to you, sirius found his place somewhere next to you, close enough to sent james a signal to back off.

potter instantly assumed that there had to be something between the two of you, mostly by how touchy sirius would become whenever you were around, having his arm thrown around your shoulders or always somehow embracing your waist. and stealing his best friend’s girlfriend was the last thing he ever wanted to do, even if he felt he clicked with you.

as soon as sirius handed you the red cup filled with a liquid you assumed was alcohol, you let yourself forget about the whole thing with james. chugging down the cup as fast as you only could, trying to win the little competition with the black boy.

few hours later, when the entire party began to die down, james was trying to get to his dorm, completely sober, but then he noticed you sitting on the stairs, your knees and palms covered in blood. “shit.” he mumbled under his breath, debating in his mind if he should just walk the other way around or help you, and…

“what… happened?” he sat beside you, his stomach doing few more flips, seeing how your face lightened up at the sound of his voice. “y/n could you talk to me?”

“i fell down the stairs.” you grimaced, head leaned against his shoulder. “one of the seventh years suggested i should go to my own room, but i couldn’t move, ‘cos it hurts.” the grimace was replaced by a pout.

a sigh left his mouth as he picked you up, without saying a word — he believed it’d be easier to help you, and immediately leave than if he’d started a conversation with you. the whole walk to your dorm was silent, none of you hadn’t even let out a whimper until you were seated on your bed, while james tried to take proper care of your scrapped knees.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered softly, tilting your head to the side to get a better look at him. the sadness in your tone made his heart clutch. “why aren’t you speaking then? we hardly even talked today.” you added, when he just shook his head.

“i don’t want to do something, both of us might regret later.” his reply was strange, did he really think you’d regret anything that includes him in any way?

after that, the room remained silent — wordlessly, james handed you clothes that seemed like a good pyjamas material and turned away while you shamelessly changed. “can you stay with me?” you asked, stopping him in his tracks.

“of course.”

he laid down beside you, his eyes focused on the ceiling above. “have you ever thought how would your life looked like if you stayed in england?” the question left his mouth swiftly. “or if you never got back, do you think you’d fall out of touch with sirius?”

“there’s always a possibility that could happen, but i don’t think so, you know.” you answered, shifting on the mattress to see that he was already looking at you. “however, there were times when i thought he would throw away all those years of friendship.”

his curious gaze made you continue. “two years ago, he told me all about his plans with you. that you’d live together, far enough from his parents to not be threatened by them, but close enough to visit your parents every weekend. it sounds funny now, but all those plans — the apartment somewhere in the southern london, traveling and other stuff were exactly what we’d planned before i was forced to leave. that’s the only letter from sirius i didn’t keep. i couldn’t, it was a sign that the friendship wouldn’t last forever, so i burned it.” you shrugged, laying the fluffy blanket on top of your bodies. “i really wanted to hate you for this all those years, you know? but you seemed too fun to do so, coming here just made me more certain.” that was the first time in the whole evening that you’ve heard him laugh, feeling as if his normal self was coming back to you.

“look where we ended up.” the smile on his face was contagious. you beamed, laughing. you were so jealous of james two years earlier, and now you didn’t want him to leave the warm sheets of your bed. his face was getting so close to yours, you let yourself think he wanted to kiss you for a moment. maybe it was just the intoxication? “i don’t know where this might go, so i’m gonna say it know. i want us to stay on friends basis, please.”

and with those words it was your time to turn silent, acting sleepy to make him think you were about to drift off to sleep. “don’t worry, that’s what i wanted too.” you muttered with your eyes closed.

from that moment on, you hardly even spent time with james anymore, always finding an excuse to bail out if someone even suggested that you should hangout with them. the way you two acted was growing suspicious, and who would remus be if he didn’t notice?

“you’re sulking.” lupin retorted, when it was only james and he in their dorm, both pretending to not paying attention to one another. “care to elaborate? it’s been a month since you got so grumpy.”

“you won’t tell sirius?” potter tilted his head to the side, putting away the magazine he was reading and looked directly at his friend, who shook his head. “it’s about y/n.”

“so? you seemed to get along well when she got here.” remus frowned. “i mean-, you’re right, but then there was the party in october and uh, we almost kissed. i wanted to kiss her, but i quite panicked.” the seeker explained, making the werewolf to deepen his frown. “james, i swear to god what have you done?”

but remus already know. marlene had told him a few days after the party that the two lovebirds were drifting away, and prongs was definitely the reason of the sudden change in their dynamics. until now, he was just looking for a chance to speak with him about it.

“i said i wanted to keep it on friends basis, she rarely talks to me ever since.” he sighed, turning down the volume of the radio. “i really wanted to keep talking to her without breaking sirius’ heart if something between us happened.”

“wait.” the frown was now an unchanging part of remus’ face. “why do you think you’d possibly break pads’ heart if you started dating y/n?” lupin shifted on his bed, yet to connect all the dots.

james grimaced at the thought of his response, wasn’t it obvious? “well, it’s against the brocode to steal someone’s girlfriend, isn’t it?” upon hearing that, remus choked on water, confusing his friend even more.

“prongs.” the blonde boy laughed, making his way towards the other boy. “i believe that if you started dating y/n, sirius would be far from heartbroken, and he wouldn’t consider you a girlfriend thief.” another bursts of laughter escaped from between lupin’s lips as he clutched his stomach. “if you’d like to break his heart, you’d have to steal someone else, not a girl he considers a sister.”

all remus regretted that moment was that he left his camera at lily’s, so he was unable to capture the funniest expression on james’ face, he has ever seen. “you should really talk to her, to at least explain yourself.” he squeezed his friend’s knee in reassurance, before james stood up. “i’d look for her in marl’s dorm, if i were you.” he hinted, disappearing behind bathroom’s doors.

you sat on marlene’s bed with dorcas right next to you, her arm thrown around your shoulder as you drunk the wine, she bought specifically for that evening. it happened to be the day, when girls had their weekly girls’ night, so mckinnon thought you should tagged along.

the knocking on the door interrupted lily’s story about remus and hers trip to edinburgh last summer, and the one hot girl she met back then. “hey, is y/n there?” james’ voice rang loudly in the room, giving you shivers. you couldn’t have a day without thinking of him, could you?

marlene flashed you a look, before looking back at him. “i don’t know, do you think she’d like to talk to you?” she crossed arms at her chest, watching the rosing confusion on his face, before you appeared in the view, ruining the whole scary girl gig. “we’ll be right here, love.” she nudged you lightly as you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you.

“heard you were looking for me…?” you asked, muscles stiff at the thought of being one on one with him. “can we do it quickly? my wine’s bottle is probably emptied by dorcas now.” you chuckled, trying to sound as calm as you only could.

“i don’t want to be friends anymore.” his confession made your heart twitch. the alcohol running in your veins almost made you vulnerable in front of him. the sigh that left your mouth was his signal to realize you misunderstood him. “you really came up here to tell me that?”

it was getting pretty bad, and james knew, there was one thing he could do that wouldn’t mess up what he wanted to tell you. hands flew to your cheeks, cupping them with his palms as leaned in to kiss you. it was definitely unexpected — but you couldn’t resist him, the thing you’ve wanted so bad, finally came true. james’ lips on yours.

he took his time before pulling away, and when he did, you were reminded that there was world beside him. all the misery you were in was long gone, just by seeing the smile on his face. “i’m sorry.” the seeker began, his eyes tracing around your face but not stopping on your eyes once. “i misinterpreted the relationship between you and padfoot, and it got all messy in my head. i thought you two were… you know, a thing.”

a quiet chuckle escaped from between your lips, caressing his cheek gently with a thumb, involuntarily smiling at his vivid embarrassment. “james,” you spoke out softly, amusement still audible in your tone. “hypothetically, if sirius and i were a thing, would i really invite you to spend time in my room, one on one, always suggesting that you should stay overnight? you, my hypothetical boyfriend’s best friend?”

“well, i haven’t thought about it.” he shrugged, smile tugging on his face. “nonetheless, i’m taking you on a date, but don’t tell sirius. i’m sure he’s going to kill me for hitting up on you.” james scoffed, hair getring ruffled by his fingers.

“when did i agree on going on a date with you?” you asked, biting back a smile, at the same time trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “don’t worry, i’ve never told on a cute boy before.”

he opened his mouth to reply, but marlene opened the door and snatched you inside, before you could even react, her action earning a few laughs in response. “excuse me, lover boy, but the time is up!” the blonde laughed, visibly tipsy, and disappeared behind the door.

now, james potter had two things to do — figure out where should he take you out, and how to tell his best friend that he wants to date his childhood best friend.

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚of wolf's blood and dragon's wrath — Aemond Targaryen⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

"If a she-wolf is what they fear, then a she-wolf I shall be."

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Aiana was always a guest at King's Landing, as the honorable Lord Rickon Stark's darling daughter. But whenever she was in the warmth of the Capital, the Prince Aemond and her shook hand in hand and took an oath of camaraderie in the cruel world that surrounded them, hiding away under tables as they created a world of their own.

But a child's conflict left them both wounded deeper than the rest.

Aiana Stark grew up to be the notorious Huntswoman of the North. The She-Wolf, with her chin held high and her spine straightened against the hurling insults of men, just as she was called the Hearth to the Cold for her unwavering kindness and personal work as a healer to the sick and wounded.

Aemond would come to be known as the "One-Eyed" Prince, and feared for his dragon Vhagar. He might excel in swordsmanship and studies of the histories, but he hid behind his eyepatch, miserable his comrade no longer thought the same of him. A fucking Targaryen Prince, who longs for the She-Wolf in the North. ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Tropes:

childhood best friends, to strangers, to lovers

oblivious puppy love

unequal social status (prince and lady)

soulmates

best friend's brother

second chance

sharing emotional scars

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. Inspired songs (*wink wink*):

Let her go by Passenger

The One That Got Away by Katy Perry

Chemtrails Over the Country Club Lana Del Rey

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by Deftones

How to Save a Life by The Fray

I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton

Somebody that I Used to Know by Gotye, Kimbra

Now That We Don't Talk (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

All I Wanted by Paramore

illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

The Great War by Taylor Swift

Forever and Always (Piano Version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

Rescue by Lauren Daigle

Let the Light In by Lana Del Rey

Work Song by Hozier

Evermore by Josh Groban

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. a/n: major canon divergence bc who doesn't want to feed their delusions accordingly and go above and beyond for it, for example:

narrative will switch back and forth between aemond and aiana, and aiana will have a whole thing happening in winterfell. i don't want to spoil much lol

little sister to cregan, big sister to rodrik (not at all a real character to GRRM's work during this timeline, as well as so many more characters.)

⋆.˚ ☾⭒. only posted on ao3 (4 chapters so far), but idk if i should also post here? i think it'll be more aesthetically pleasing but idk what do you guys think? ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.

[moonpetrichors-blog]

lo'ak x f!reader in lo'aks pov pls

childhood best friends to lovers :DD

childhood best friends to lovers, lo'ak has always been head over heals in love with y/n ever since they were 12, and he confesses before they go into battle in case he wouldn't be able to afterwards, she retaliates the feelings and they both make it out alive, also they tell jake and neytiri and they were like "yeah that was obvious" or something :)))

love your other works so much

Stick By You

Tags: Lo’ak x Omaticaya!Reader, Fem!Reader, Headcanons, Childhood Best Friends To Lovers, Friends To Lovers, Lo’ak’s Perspective (But Not First Person), Sweet Ending

Warnings: Major Avatar 2 Spoiler Because I Had To Make a Little Jokey Joke

Lo’ak has been your childhood friend ever since you two were 12. You left the Omaticaya clan to follow him to the Awa'atlu village, and right before you both have to go into battle, he confesses. Little does Lo’ak know, you’ve been in love with him for the last couple of years too.

The way my blog has turned into an avatar page 💀💀 I can just imagine Jake and Neytiri standing there like those apple emojis like “we know” LMAO 😭 (let’s just remove all angst from the actual series of events) 🚶‍♀️ thank u for the support btw <33 yall are so lovely :)

Jonquil - Love Me, Affection Returned, Desire, Sympathy, Desire for Affection Returned

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut  

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [01/01/23] ❞  

Lo’ak had been in love with you ever since you two were twelve.

You had met in the Omaticaya clan, and were always attached to the hip.

Neteyam always told Lo’ak he was surprised you weren’t dead yet, considering the way you two were inseparable.

Lo’ak ignored him, secretly not caring, because eventually he realized he liked you.

At first he thought he’d get over his feelings for you, because he didn’t think you could ever like him back, but they only grew the more time passed.

So, he kept his feelings to himself, because he didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Fast-forward to two years later, shit had hit the fan.

The RDA was back, and they were after his father. His family had ultimately decided to leave.

You had followed them to the Metkayina clan, despite Lo’ak’s protests against it.

You were just like him, not minding how stupid you could be throwing yourself into danger. But, part of him was glad you would go so far as leave the clan just to stay by his side.

Your time together with the Metkayina was quite fun. The swims, meeting Payakan, and even beating up the chief’s son!

All good things must come to an end, though.

Quaritch was tailing his family, and right before the Metkayina went into battle, Lo’ak pulled you aside with a somber expression.

He noticed the way you seemed perplexed, and took your hands in his. He really couldn’t figure out what you were thinking, but he thought that in case he wouldn’t be able to make it out alive, you at least needed to know this.

His feelings for you.

Lo’ak confessed, and dropped his hands from yours, fully expecting you to reject him.

Before he could turn away to join his siblings, you stopped him.

Lo’ak’s eyes widened when you gave him a small smile and told him you reciprocated his feelings.

He was bewildered that he hadn’t realized you’d also been pining for him the last few years.

He of course pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately, and promised that he would stay alive. For you.

There were many instances where he thought he was going to die, actually.

He almost got shot, almost drowned, and even got caught by Quaritch.

This boy really knows how to make you sweat 💀

However, the one thing that drove him to stay alive was the fact that you liked him back. That you were waiting for him.

And so he kept his promise.

When you all had reassembled, you gave Lo’ak a tight hug, telling him that you were glad he was alive.

You kissed him again, this time without the desperation and fear of death looming over your heads.

Lo’ak took your hand in his and led you to his parents, trying to swallow back his nerves.

Neytiri and Jake appeared a little standoffish, seeing how serious their son’s expression was. Did that bastard Quaritch rise back from the trenches of the ocean?

“Mom, Dad, I want Y/N to be my mate.”

You blushed at how direct he was being, but you supposed there was no other way to do it.

The both of them looked at each other, then to the both of you.

They burst out laughing.

Lo’ak felt kind of offended, because what was so funny??

Well, apparently Jake and Neytiri had known you two liked each other a loooong time ago.

They thought this was something serious, like their son dying!

This was absolutely not the reaction the two of you were expecting.

Jake pat Lo’ak’s shoulder, struggling to speak through his fit of laughter.

“Son, you really need to get your wits about you.”

[radios-universe]

there’s something about that shift when your birthday cards from your childhood best friends morph from being filled with inside jokes and meaningful messages to a short sentence that’s signed off by them and their boyfriend….

[shewrites7]

Drunken Nights and Pinky Promises

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary - Your boyfriend of two months is getting on your last nerves, and your best friend Steve’s too. Steve can’t stand him, and you’re beginning to realize that neither can you, for reasons you don’t think you’re brave enough to admit—at least not without some alcohol. Luckily for you, Steve’s set on dragging you to a party with plenty of it.

type - one shot

word count [9.2k]

tags: Steve Harrington x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, heartbreak, “he’s not good enough for you”, a high school party, hurt comfort, secret pining, jealousy, pinky promises and an almost kiss. (no specific mention of appearance, race, etc.)

warnings: underage drinking, swearing

"Come on," you urged your boyfriend from over the phone, neck aching with how long you'd been on a call with him. During your snack break at work, nonetheless. "You know that's not what I said."

Danny, your boyfriend, was taking up a tone with you over the phone that would have you hanging up if it were anybody else. But this was Danny. You'd been dating him for two months now, and he was the only boy you'd ever seen manage to win over your parents. Well, other than Steve, that is.

You still didn't know how he'd managed to do it, but whatever Steve had done to get your parents to like him so much was the exact reason why he's managed to hold the position of your best friend for all these years, rather than just a few weeks. By then, your parents usually chase off anybody they think isn't good enough for their daughter's company.

But with him, they'd invited him to your house practically every day, too many sleepovers to count. Nights spent under blanket forts with eyes threatening to close from the heaviness of fatigue, pinkies interlocking as you swapped promises with each other you still hadn't broken to this day, where you worked at Family Video with your best friend practically every day, replacing sleepovers with quick goodnight's as he dropped you off in front of your house after a long midnight shift. It was tiring, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

The boy in question, Steve, was finishing up organizing the register from next to you behind the counter. Although seemingly focused on counting cash, it became increasingly difficult for him to focus on the task at hand as he listened to you argue with your boyfriend over the phone. It became near impossible when you decided to leave the phone lying on the counter face up so you could begin working again and keep talking on the phone all at once, walking back and forth behind the counter as your boyfriend's voice disrupted any silence that'd once existed in Family Video. Steve annoyingly acknowledged in his mind with a roll of his eyes that his voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. It was a wonder to him how you put up with the boy for more than a minute at a time.

"I already told you," you said, your voice distant and occupied with organizing the horror films shelf. "Keith has been grumpier than ever, Danny. I can't just skip work to go to some random junior's party."

"It's not a random junior's party," argued Danny stubbornly. "If you went to more of my games, you'd know that this party is to celebrate Hawkins High's third official win of the season!"

Steve almost couldn't hold back a snort as he worked, not being able to help from eavesdropping.

You slapped your hands against your legs, turning towards the phone on the counter with a glare as if the boy on the other line could see you. "You know I go to all the basketball games I can! It isn't my fault I have to work all the time."

You could hear Danny scoff. "You spend more time at that damn job than you do with me."

Steve could see your frustration from where he sat, your cheeks flushing and fists clenching. God, this guy was a piece of work.

You shook your head to yourself. "You know I can't help it."

A rich, humorless laugh came from the phone. "Yeah, especially not when that Harrington is waiting for you at your job, right?"

Your cheeks flushed even more at your boyfriend's accusation, and you couldn't tell whether it was from anger or embarrassment.

It seemed as if you'd only now noticed Steve's presence in the room, looking at him guiltily like he'd caught you doing something criminal. Trying not to seem like he heard the conversation being shared from across the store, as impossible as it may be, Steve's eyes snapped back to the register and away from you, not wanting to further your embarrassment. It didn't take a genius, though, to know that your best friend had heard every word of your argument with Danny. An argument that you finally decided you'd had enough of.

"Danny, I'm not doing this right now." You stomped towards the counter, trying your best not to notice the clearly fake look of disinterest on Steve's face as he counted the same two dollars distractedly.

"You don't want to do anything anymore!"

Knowing that this conversation could go around in circles for hours more if you didn't end it soon, you picked up the phone once again.

"Danny, I'm really sorry, but I have to go."

You numbed yourself as his voice continued to shout anyway through the phone, loud enough that you were sure Steve could still hear him. But you had to get back to work, whether your boyfriend liked it or not. No longer listening to his muffled words, you bid him goodbye, promised to call him later, and hung up the phone for good.

Danny's voice rang through your mind, even after you hung up on him, but the silence of the store throbbed against your head almost painfully, the combination giving you a headache that was sure to stay with you for plenty more hours. All you wanted to do was head to bed early, but you were sure to be stuck working at the store until late into the night.

You turned to Steve who, though he still hadn't moved from his clearly artificial position of hunching over the register, you could tell was dying to say something. At the sound of your throat clearing, Steve looked up at you with a frustratingly superior look in his eyes.

"Oh, stop that," you spat sourly at him. He shrugged with feigned innocence.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

You squinted at his disbelievingly at his tone. "Sure you weren't."

You knew of the pile of words that were on the tip of his tongue, but you honestly weren't in the mood to hear what he had to say. Every time he talked about Danny, it was like trying to stop a train in its tracks. It was no secret how he felt about your boyfriend, his rants about him proving just how much he disliked him. Worst of all, deep down, you couldn't help but think that he was right about everything he said.

"Alright, Steve," you said tiredly. "Let it out."

Steve swirled in his stool, but you kept speaking, your mouth moving a mile a minute with frustration that you knew you were aiming at the wrong boy.

"Tell me how much of a basket case Danny is. Remind me how much of an idiot he is. Describe to me all of the ways you'd like to shut him up. I won't interrupt this time. I'm ready for it." You knew that was a lie—you were never ready for it.

"I just," Steve rubbed his chin, trying to add some casualty to his words. "I just think Danny is ..."

You gestured for him to continue.

"I just think he's more of a talker than he is, you know, a listener." He paused, letting you soak in his words. "I mean, when's the last time you had a conversation that didn't feel like you were talking to a wall?"

Even if he wasn't completely serious, you had to admit to yourself that Steve spoke the truth; speaking to Danny was like talking to a wall.

"And," he continued, "don't even get me started on that basketball bullshit. 'You don't want to do anything anymore'," Steve mocked your boyfriend's voice in a whiny tone. "It's like he's never worked a day in his life! Probably hasn't though, we all know what his house looks like from the parties he used to throw all the time. Not a very understanding dude."

He was right. Everything Steve was saying was right. But that didn't change the fact your blood always seemed to boil whenever Steve talked about a guy you were with, as if they were so absurdly idiotic that you had to be brainless to ever have dated them in the first place. You distracted yourself by organizing the contents of the drawer behind the counter, feverishly rearranging pens in a way that only ever seemed to make you more frustrated.

"Alright Steve, I-"

"It's always complaints with him." Steve didn't seem to hear you. "You'd think he was a middle-schooler with the way he whines. Scratch that, younger than a middle-schooler. Even Dustin never whines that much."

Steve was on a roll now. "And Jesus, that phone call... his voice is painful. I bet he loves the sound of his own voice. Never listens to anybody. Hey, remember when he got you that rose perfume for your birthday? You hate the smell of roses. Your face when he gave you that was priceless."

The blood rushing past your ears was practically all you could focus on as you held a pen in your hands, threatening to snap. You never really knew why Steve's words always had this effect on you. Sure, it could've been because he was almost always spot on about Danny. But when Steve would look into your eyes after telling you all the things he hates about your boyfriend, telling you that you could do so much better than him, that voice nagging you in the back of your mind wanted to yell out "Who? Who could I do better with?" Yet, you didn't want him to answer that question. You didn't know if your heart could take whatever he might say.

It felt to you like Steve talked for minutes more before stopping, noticing the way you gripped the pen in your hands like it was your lifeline.

"Woah, hey there," he cooed, gingerly taking the pen from your hands, concern lacing his voice and drawing his brows together. "You alright babe?"

Babe. No, no you weren't.

"You know, maybe Danny was right about one thing." You were snapped out of spiraling thoughts at Steve's admission of something you'd never thought he'd say.

"And what would that be?" You asked as you placed all the pens back into their proper spots again with a strained breath, slightly not believing him.

"That you need to get out more, have more fun."

You couldn't help but scoff. "And since when do you agree with anything Danny has to say?"

"Since I saw you trying to squeeze the life out of that pen just now." Steve popped a stick of gum in his mouth from his pocket, enjoying this too much. "I can't disagree about you working too much. You throw yourself into work like your life depends on it. This is Family Video, for God's sake. You can spare to ditch a few shifts."

You shook your head at him. "You have a lot of wise words for someone who used to wear a sailor cap to make a living."

Steve guffawed at your smirk, brown eyes gleaming up at you from his seat behind the register. "Well, you should be thanking this wise guy, cause he's the same guy who's gonna be taking you out partying tonight, whether you like it or not."

You stopped in your tracks, blinking. Steve threw an arm around your shoulder, loving your reaction and the alarmed look on your face.

"You heard me, partying. I'm sure you've heard of it. It's the thing most people do when they want to have some fun, you know, dancing, drinks, the occasional-"

You slap a hand over Steve's mouth to stop his poking fun at you. "Okay, you can stop now, Harrington."

Removing your hand from Steve's face, he prayed to God that you didn't think anything of the warmth of his cheeks when you touched his face in that way. He really had to get himself under control, he thought.

"So, I'll pick you up at your place tonight?" Steve asked, noticing the way you glanced down at your watch anxiously, always worrying about work and never yourself. He took your hand in his, drawing your attention away from your watch-bearing wrist.

"Hey," he said, eyes staring up into yours once more. "I'm serious. Don't forget to have a little fun once and a while. It can't all be work work work."

You looked down at you and Steve's hands, marveling at how his large ones completely cocooned yours in between. You shook your head. "You're forgetting we both fight monsters on a monthly basis."

Steve let out an amused breath. "Yeah, well, even the Ghostbusters had to catch a break every once and a while, right?" You squinted.

"I don't remember them ever partying."

Steve shook his head at your ability to always have a comeback ready. He gave your hand a squeeze, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips with a tilt of his head.

"Well, maybe we can be the first."

"You're overthinking this." Steve spoke the words into his phone for what seemed like the hundredth time as he drove to your house. Yes, that was probably a safety hazard, but he'd never been a stickler for the rules anyway. It seemed to him that the risks of leaving you alone to yourself to get ready for a party were higher than those that came with talking on the phone while driving, even at night. Your distressed tone from the other end made that all too clear.

"No, I'm just thinking rationally, Harrington," you reasoned back, your words mushed together as you applied red color to your lips. Steve wasn't the only one multitasking. "Who's gonna cover our shifts for us while we're out partying?"

"Don't worry about that, I've got it handled," placated Steve. What he wasn't saying, though, was that going to this party would cost him four nights' worth of extra shifts at Family Video, courtesy of Keith himself. To Steve, that was a small price to pay to finally get you to have some well-needed fun. He'd do practically anything to see your smile.

"Well, are you almost ready? I'm almost at your place."

Looking in the mirror, you began to panic. Were you almost ready? You had no idea what "ready" entailed for a party like this. One with way too many people packed into some teenager you didn't even know's house, loud music, and most definitely alcohol.

"Uh, yea. Almost ready." You fluffed up your hair in your vanity mirror just a bit before rushing to your closet, cellphone tucked in between your shoulder and neck.

"It doesn't sound much like it," teased Steve, turning the corner onto your street that he knew so well.

"Nope," came your wavering voice as you struggled to put your shoe on your foot, hopping up and down for balance. "I'm ready."

Steve put his car in park in front of your house, noticing the lights on inside your infamously pink-walled bedroom through your window. "Well, great! Cause I'm walking up to your door right now."

You almost tripped over your own feet, nervously laughing with poorly executed casualness. "You-you are?"

"Yep," said Steve chipperly into the phone. He climbed the two steps to your front door with a smug look on his face, peaking through the windows to try and see any sign of his best friend, his suspicion of your lie growing. "Not seeing you, though."

"Oh, don't you worry, Harrington," you assured with feigned confidence, finally hopping down the stairs, phone in hand still. "I'm all ready."

You finally reached the door, swinging it open assuredly, barely stable on your feet after rushing to get downstairs. You were greeted by Steve standing in your doorway, hands in pockets as he stared at his feet.

When he looked up, his smug look was wiped off his face in the blink of an eye. He couldn't possibly form enough thoughts to have any kind of expression other than awe at the view in front of him.

He took in your dress, a color that complimented your skin so perfectly it was like a watercolor painting, your flushed cheeks and slightly parted red lips, hair that was disheveled just enough to make you look effortlessly beautiful. He had to stop himself from reaching up and tucking a fallen piece behind your jeweled ear.

He hadn't said anything, but he didn't trust himself enough just to say anything just yet.

"Hey," you greeted, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath that your body took in from running down the stairs in those shoes. "'Told you I was ready."

He gulped, his throat ran dry. "Yeah, you, uh" Words, Steve. Words. "You look great." He could've smacked himself right then and there. Your painted lips tugged upwards in a warm smile.

"Thanks, Harrington." You scanned him over too, taking in his better quality jeans and nicely-fitting jacket. You nudged him in the arm. "You don't clean up too bad yourself."

Steve couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts for a beat too long before remembering you both still had a party to drive to. He snapped himself back into reality, back to sanity and security.

"Shall we leave?" He asked gesturing to his BMW and holding an arm out to you, to which you smiled fondly, taking his arm in yours.

"We shall."

The drive to the party felt longer than you would've liked, and the car felt warmer to you than it probably should've. Work wasn't the only reason you didn't go to a lot of parties. You'd always steered clear of them if you could and going to one now didn't feel any easier.

Steve, of course, noticed your weird behavior and rested a comforting hand on your knee for half of the drive there. You couldn't exactly say if that was making the temperature in the car feel any lower.

By the time you got there, Steve was parking down the block from the house that was clearly holding the party. You could hear the loud music booming from it even from houses away, your hands a sweaty mess. It was like the bass of the music beat in time with the thumping in your chest. You were surprised your leg shaking up and down didn't distract Steve from his driving a single time. He looked over at you, arm still resting on your knee.

"You ready to go in?" Steve looked at you with hopeful eyes.

"Would you let me stay in the car if I told you no?" Rolling his eyes, Steve gave an extra squeeze of your knee in comfort.

"Don't stress so much." He took your pinky in his, reminding you of how you used to do when you were young and stress-free. How you missed those times in a moment like this. "This'll be fun, I promise."

As much as you wanted to believe Steve, you couldn't help but let your nerves wash over you, them staying with you as he exited the car and opened your door for you, offering a hand for you to grab onto. You took it, praying he didn't comment on your sweaty palms even if you knew inside that he would never.

You both walked up to the house arm to arm, the music already loud enough for you to make out a Duran Duran tune coming from inside the house. The familiar scent of Steve's cologne helped soothe the whirlwind of thoughts inside your brain but made you realize just how much more party experience he had than you did. God, you did not want to be clinging to him the whole night in fear.

Steve could tell you were entering that nervous spiral of thoughts again and turned to you before you reached the door.

"Hey," he said softly, hands resting on your shoulders. "Get outside of that busy head of yours." His hands slid down the sides of your exposed arms. His touch mixed with the chill in the air sent a shiver up your body that you fought to keep down as you stood in front of him."C'mon. Let's head inside." He took your hand in his, taking the lead.

When you walked inside, the music struck your eardrums so loudly that you felt the vibrations in your chest, along with the smell of alcohol in your nostrils. Steve seemed unfazed by it all, looking down at you with an adorably wide grin. It was hard to forget, Steve wasn't just plain old Steve, cashier at Family Video, protector of twelve-year-olds, and official chauffeur. He was "King Steve." Even if he matured wildly from how he used to be, he was still used to all this. Parties like these were practically his element. You did the best impression of a smile you could, and it must have satisfied him enough to have him dragging you off further into the crowd of people.

You couldn't see much in the swarm of people dancing and yelling, red plastic cups in their hands with mysterious drinks you didn't want to know the contents of inside. The home the party was being hosted at was large enough to fit at least two or three of your own home inside. You made a bet that everyone at Hawkins High could fit inside this house, maybe even just the first floor. Of course, this did nothing to soothe your nerves.

It wasn't long before Steve found some people he knew, booming voices yelling "Harrington!" over the music. He went over to greet them, still holding onto your hand as he did. You recognized one of them as Mitch, a kid he used to play basketball with, but couldn't put a name to any of the other faces. They didn't pay you much attention as they conversed, only sparing glances at you that strayed too far South for your liking. Soon, talk of beer pong arose and Steve turned to you right away, leaning down a bit to hear you over the noise of the party.

"You okay by yourself?"

You wanted to say no, to stay within the comfort of Steve and let him keep you close to his side, keeping him selfishly for you and only you. But you could tell Steve wanted to play and, knowing him, he'd stay here next to you all night if you asked him to. It wasn't fair to keep Steve from going off with his friends and having fun just because you were a little nervous at a high school party. You smiled up at him.

"Yea, I'll be fine." You squeezed his arm and had to swallow down your intrusive thoughts of how firm his bicep was. "Go have fun."

The brunette looking down at you smiled his contagious smile again and left a kiss on your forehead before letting himself be dragged off by his friends. A kiss that left your cheeks warm and face feeling fuzzy. And before you knew it, Steve was out of sight and you were standing alone at a stranger's party.

A couple of minutes went by before you came to the conclusion that standing against the wall like a loner wasn't keeping up your end of the bargain with Steve. You promised him you'd try to have fun, let loose a little. You could only imagine all the things he'd say to you right now if he was still next to you. You couldn't tell if trying to socialize would make this any more fun for you, but you didn't really have a choice soon because someone was knocking into you from behind, almost spilling their drink on you.

"Shit, my bad," came a deep voice. When he fully turned around, you recognized him as one of Danny's friends, Scott. He stumbled into you, bracing himself with a hand over your head against the wall, too close for comfort. You could smell the alcohol on him.

"It's alright..." you said, taking a step away for some distance. He only just seemed to recognize you and a look took over his face that you couldn't read clearly in the dark lighting.

"Hey," he blurted. "Didn't Dan say you couldn't make it tonight?"

You shrugged. "I managed to get off of work. Thought it'd be nice to surprise him." You were surprised at how fast the lie came to your lips. You'd almost forgotten Danny would be here. Now, you couldn't help but wonder what he would say if he saw that you'd decided to show up with Steve as your escort.

Scott let out a gurgled sound under his breath that sounded like a laugh. "Oh, he'll be surprised." He looked around before turning back to you. "Want a drink?"

You shook your head, looking around too to see what was so funny. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Have you seen Danny anywhere?"

"Nope." He smiled. "I'll bet he's looking for you right now. You should go find him."

You didn't like the feeling that caught in your stomach as you looked at Scott's grin, but you brushed it aside for something spurred by all the alcohol in his system.

"Thanks, I will."

He saluted you off and laughed to himself some more, strolling away into the crowd and downing some more of his drink. Maybe it was the smell of alcohol around you and the lack of open space, but the sick feeling in your stomach was refusing to be pushed down. You decided to try and see if you could find something to drink that was nonalcoholic. A glass of water had never seemed so nice.

People crowded around every inch of space in the house, elbows pushing into you as you made your way through the jumble of bodies partying in the living room. The center of the room came into view, decorated with expensive-looking furniture and a coffee table covered with empty cups. And there, laying on one of the couches was your boyfriend. You got a closer look, and suddenly you wished you hadn't. You'd found him and you hadn't even looked for him. Now, you wished you never had.

He wasn't the only body laying on the couch. It may have been dark, but it was light enough for you to take in every square inch of the scene before you, one that had you recoiling, almost stumbling back.

Danny had his face pressed into some girl's, his body laying flushed underneath her's. You'd never seen her before, light hair coiled in curls that brushed against your boyfriend's face. He was so completely enamored by the random girl on top of him that he didn't even notice his girlfriend standing a few feet away from him, absolutely shattered.

"Danny?" you called, ashamed of how your voice broke almost immediately. It wasn't even him who noticed you first, but the girl on top of him. She broke away from their heated kiss and looked up at you with a look of disinterest, shaking the shoulder of the boy underneath her and gesturing to you.

He craned his neck from his position to look at you, eyes taking you in as if he had to scan his brain on who you were. When he did, he scrambled to push the girl off of him and stand up next to the couch, the girl scoffing and walking to another guy carelessly as if realizing what was going on and deciding the drama was too much for her. Danny's sloppy appearance, his undone collar, and messy hair, showing signs of someone running their hands through it, made you green with disgust.

"Babe," he said, readjusting his shirt with a pathetic attempt at a casual smile. "I thought you weren't coming." He took his turn at scanning over my appearance too, eyes stopping a beat too long at my chest. "You look hot." Bile rose in your throat with disgust. You had no desire to thank him.

"I managed to get away from work and thought it'd be a nice surprise if I came, Danny." You shook your head, mad that you could feel your eyes water. "Turns out I'm the one who got a surprise."

People started to stop their conversations and look at the two of you, prying eyes making you even more unsettled. Danny took a step closer to you, but you couldn't tell if it was genuine or just an act. You couldn't tell what was real now.

"Look, Babe," he held out hands in front of him, almost as if he was trying to reach for you. You could smell the alcohol on him from where you stood. The last thing in the world that you wanted was for him to be trying to comfort you right now. He reached out and touched your arm, but you pulled back sharply.

"Don't touch me. And don't call me that."

You could tell that took a swing at his ever-swelling ego. His eyes were cold beneath the mask he was wearing like he was angry at you for your reaction, for doing it in front of all these people. Like he didn't understand your anger.

"Don't make this a big deal," he said, with a glance at the crowd like he expected them to agree with him.

It really was like talking to a wall.

"'Make this a big deal?'" You yelled exasperatedly. "Are you serious right now?" You were ashamed of how you knew you looked right then, on the verge of tears and about to break down right in front of all these people. Danny knew you didn't handle crowds like this well, but that didn't seem to stop him.

"You're always giving me bullshit excuses when I ask to hang out. Did you really expect me to wait around for you to stop being boring?"

It felt like his words were darts and you were the dart board. You didn't know if you had it in you to shout back another argument. You just wanted to leave this stupid party.

You shook your head, taking one last look last look at the boy you thought had been your boyfriend before you began stalking off. You didn't get far.

"Don't pretend like you haven't done the same with Harrington before!"

His shouted words had your blood boiling in a way that had you turning right back around, a wave of fiery anger bringing your palm up to hit Danny right on the side of his face with enough force to have his head whip right to the side. Some people in the crowd gasped, some clearly enjoying this like it was their own personal soap opera. It only made the ringing in your ears louder as you involuntarily tried to block everything out.

"Keep his name out of your fucking mouth." You pushed the palm of your hand to his chest, sending him stumbling a few feet backward. "I hope I never have to hear your voice again."

This time, you made sure you put enough distance between you and him so that you wouldn't hear any of his scathing, drunk remarks anymore. Enough distance so that he couldn't see the way your features shook with the effort of holding back a sob. People danced all around you as you hurriedly tried to be anywhere but next to Danny, swaying hips and not a care in the world. Meanwhile, you felt like the air around you was swallowing you whole.

You passed by the front door, the frame of it calling to you to give you the fresh air your lungs needed greatly. But you couldn't leave without Steve and you had no idea where he was. Yet, the idea of going back to partying like he'd wanted you to seemed near impossible now.

You didn't know what had come over you, but when you passed by a table with every inch of its surface covered in red cups filled with brown liquid, they didn't seem as unappealing to you as they had just fifteen minutes ago. You knew you shouldn't, but when you felt the sting of your palm from the slap you'd given Danny just a moment ago, you used that same hand to grab a cup and bring its contents to your lips.

You hated the power some stupid boy had over you. You wanted to drown out every thought of him that was stored in the contents of your mind. The alcohol burned when it reached the back of your mouth, and you had to scrunch your features together just to get it down. But when you found yourself coming back for a second cup, then a third, it wasn't the taste that had you downing each cup with a wince. It was the way every image of Danny's face softened and blurred in your mind into a swirl of shapes the more you drank. You were addicted to the feeling. Or maybe, the fact that it took away any feeling.

You didn't know how much you'd drank, but you did know that you couldn't help the way your body danced to the music blasting in your ears, or the way you lost track of time. You hadn't even registered the people you were next to, dancing right by them and joining the crowd of people you'd vowed you could never learn to be comfortable around, so unfazed by the party scene.

You felt yourself bump right into a firm body, one that sent you swaying backward on your feet a bit. The feeling of hands coming up to grip the sides of your arms in a firm but comforting hold was oh so familiar. You couldn't make out the crisp edges of the face above you that you should've been able to, but it was impossible for you to miss the way their cologne swarmed around you in a comforting cocoon, and how your first instinct was to lean closer to them, to let your limbs that felt too heavy to hold up be held against him.

"Babe," he called. It was the same name that Danny had called you, making your head pound and your heart sting. But coming from this mouth, it replaced that sting with a slightly warmer feeling.

"Stevie?" you called softly, letting a grin lazily come over you as you looked up at this person that you'd know anywhere. You wanted him to smile back at you, but a frown was evident on his face from what you could see, brows pulled together and eyes scanning over you as if he was checking for signs of harm on some fragile object. Your words slurred together. "Whatsamatter?" His frown only deepened.

"Are ... Are you drunk or something?"

You frowned. "What?" You looked at him amusedly but Steve didn't return the sentiment. "Pfft." A giggle came out from your lips as you raised your hands to his face, pushing the corners of his lips upward in a way that warped his mouth into an obscure-looking smile. "C'mon Stevie, smile. We're at a party, not a funeral." You threw your hands up into the air whimsically. "Don't you just love parties?"

Steve shook his head and the crease between his brows only got deeper. "Holy shit, you are drunk. This really isn't what I meant by 'let loose'." He looked at you confusedly. "This isn't like you, what's going on?"

Something inside you began to curl up and threaten to come up to the surface. Something you only wanted to keep pushed down. You dropped your arms. "Why don't you ask Danny?"

Even if you didn't mean to, you spat out his name like the word was venomous. Steve could've read that you were upset even if you hadn't said his name like that. He always could read you better than anyone else.

"What the hell happened with Danny?"

You didn't want to talk about it. For too many reasons. "Like I said, ask him." You breathily laughed, but it didn't feel happy like a laugh should. "Better yet, ask his girlfriend."

Steve looked at you quizzically, frustrated that he couldn't solve this puzzle so easily. But he had a bad feeling creeping up in his gut. "What are you talking about? You're his girlfriend."

"Really?" you said, your tone loopy and wild even if you felt anything but, deep inside. The alcohol helped hide that. "I could've sworn it was that bimbo on the couch with him just a few minutes ago." You scratched your head, still tipsy, if you could even call it that. "Or maybe it was a few hours ago. Hey, what time is it?"

Steve stopped in his tracks, ignoring your question as he visibly tensed.

"Crap," he ran a hand through his hair stressfully. "Are you saying that dick cheated on you?"

You shrugged. You didn't feel like saying the words. Something in Steve's eyes changed. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he shook his head, muttering to himself.

"I'm gonna kill him."

You knew Steve wasn't a violent person, but he's never been the type to back down from a fight he thought was rightful. You could run through the times he's come home with a black eye before, whether from dumb fights in school or run-ins with evil Russians. Either way, you didn't want to find out if he was serious or not.

You took his clenched fist into your hands. "Hey," you said softly. But suddenly it was hard for you to balance by yourself, and you fell into Steve's chest. It was like your limbs were liquid. "I-I don't feel so good."

Steve's demeanor changed instantly, and he quickly put aside thoughts of your asshole ex-boyfriend as he held you softly, like you could break in his hands any second. He let out a breath above from where your head was pressed against his chest that sounded like a laugh. "Yea, maybe it's cause you had like how many cups of beer?"

You thought for a second, but you couldn't even think of an answer. "I don't remember."

Steve sighed like a mother and moved you so that you were pressed into his side with an arm thrown over his shoulder. Then he started to walk with slow steps that used too much of your effort for it to be normal.

"C'mon, there you go," he said, encouraging you. The close proximity of his face to yours made you even dizzier. You felt your eyes flicker to his lips, but you had enough sanity still in you to draw them away to the rest of his face, taking in his soft features. He was so pretty. Steve coughed suddenly.

"I'm ... pretty?" he asked, the tips of his ears tinting pink in an adorable way as he kept walking with you in his arms. Crap.

"Did I say that out loud?" you laughed, slightly stumbling over your own feet. Steve caught you in no time, of course, arms wrapping around you tighter. That did nothing to make your face turn less red. You thanked God it was dark.

"You must be drunk out of your mind." Steve looked like he was thinking about something and then shook his head, chasing a thought away. You wanted to ask what was going on in his head at the moment, but you'd run out of passes for how many times you could make a fool of yourself tonight, so you decided to keep quiet as Steve dragged you to a staircase at the end of the hall.

With slow, agonizingly slow, steps, you made it up the stairs to a bathroom more secluded from the rest of the party. Steve turned on the lights and shut the door behind you, the bright lights an attack on your senses that had you pressing your head into Steve's chest with a groan. He softly laughed from above you with a few pats on your back.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

His hand stopped in its tracks and he pulled you away from him, hands on your shoulders. "And that, my friend, is why we're in the bathroom." He gestured towards the toilet. "Behold."

You groaned again, head leaning back into his shoulder. "Gross." You liked to believe that you had enough dignity left in you to not be vomiting in the toilet at a high school party. Then, you practically threw yourself towards the toilet like your life depended on it, retching as the last hour came pouring out of you. Forget dignity.

Steve moved to hold your hair up as you threw up into the toilet, hands soft and gentle. You didn't need to turn around to know he was probably wincing and holding back laughter.

It felt like your insides were burning as your stomach emptied itself. For a second, you thought it had finished, both hands braced on the sides of the porcelain seat as you breathed heavily.

"You done?" Steve asked softly from behind you. "See, that wasn't all that-"

His comforting words were cut off as you retched back into the toilet bowl. Your throat ached and your eyes watered. You were miserable. The whole time, Steve rubbed comforting circles into your back. And when your body finally felt like it had rid itself of all the alcohol you'd drank, you slumped back against the wall tiredly, not even able to hold your own head up.

Steve flushed the toilet for you and sat down against the sink, across from where you sat. Your feet touched with the lack of room, both leaning back. You wanted to burry yourself in the sheets of your bed and never come out. You sighed.

"That was definitely a low point in my life." Steve waved a hand dismissively like he hadn't just gotten a glimpse at the contents of your stomach.

"Throwing up in the toilet is a partying right of passage," he comforted. He breathed out a sound like a laugh. "Same with the awful hangover you'll get in the morning."

You groaned, head falling into your hands. "I am an idiot."

You closed your eyes as you buried yourself further into your hands, taking shelter in the dark. Even if you were technically still drunk, sobriety hit you like a truck, everything having to do with Danny coming back to you in a crashing wave of memories. The image of him underneath that girl. His words, how he'd called you boring. How he'd shown no sign of regret for what he's done.

Tears pricked your eyes, sneaking up on you when you hadn't wanted them there in the first place. All night, you'd held back tears, but never actually cried, cried like you're supposed to after a breakup. After being cheated on. But now, in the shelter of the bathroom without so many prying eyes, it was like your body decided for you that now was the time.

Were you really crying because of Danny? You'd never really felt attached to him in the way a girlfriend should and, obviously, he hadn't been too attached to you either. Somehow, that didn't soothe the ache in your chest any less. It didn't stop your eyes from watering, silent tears slipping down silently. Didn't stop a sob from then making its way from deep in your chest to the edge of your lips, echoing loudly in the bathroom, loud enough that Steve could most definitely hear. He moved to sit closer to you.

"Woah, hey," came his soft voice. A hand gingerly rested on your forearm, comforting you. "What's the matter?"

You peaked up at him from behind your hands, still crying. He took one look at your teary eyes and what had happened only just over an hour ago must have hit him. His eyes look apologetic but never judging.

"Sorry, dumb question."

You wanted to laugh at him, but you didn't know if that would trigger another wave of vomiting. Instead, you just let more tears fall.

The only sounds in the bathroom were your sobs and sniffling from your runny nose, the soft shuffle of Steve rubbing your arm comfortingly, and the dim music coming from downstairs. You could faintly hear Pat Benatar's Heartbreaker playing loudly. How ironic.

"You're not an idiot."

Steve's voice echoed through the bathroom, disrupting the melancholy silence. You finally brought your head out from in your arms and leaned back against the wall again, but tears still fell onto your cheeks.

"Well, I sure feel like one..." your bottom lip shook as you spoke. "How could I not have seen it?" Your head moved from side to side, ashamed. "With all the parties he goes to without me, who knows how many more times he's done this? How many more girls he's been with?"

"Don't think like that," Steve said, trying to cut in. You were too carried away wallowing in your own thoughts to listen.

"He's always been a crappy boyfriend to me. Always. I just didn't want to admit it because ... because of too many reasons. It's my fault for not ending it sooner, for letting him treat me like shit for so long just because I didn't have the tits to tell him he was a jerk to his face. It's my fault for-"

"Stop it." Steve couldn't stand to listen to you blame yourself any longer. He couldn't listen to you tear yourself up over a boy who had treated you so badly. He figured Danny was downstairs right now partying the night away without a care for who he'd hurt. He wanted to hurt him back, badly. But there was no way he would let you out of sight for a moment, not when you were shaken up over this boy who'd driven you to drown yourself in alcohol just to forget about how much he'd hurt you.

His voice took a tone stern enough to cut into your ranting and have you listening to what he had to say. "He may have been a jerk, but you're not an idiot. And it's not your fault. None of this is. It's not, okay?"

His eyes pierced yours, a deep earthy brown that made your stomach churn from the intensity they were taking up and had you feeling guilty for speaking so badly of yourself. Steve could do that. You nodded slowly.

"Now," he said, holding out his pinky finger. "When we leave this bathroom and go home for the night, I need you to promise me you're not gonna keep on blaming yourself for this happening. Because it's not your fault, understand?"

Your lips trembled, but your heart swelled with how much you loved the boy in front of you. You took his pinky in yours, squeezing lightly.

"I promise."

He nodded, satisfied. "Okay good. Now, I want you to tell me that I'm the best friend a girl could ever have, got it?"

With the serious look that Steve still had in his eyes as you look at him, you couldn't help but smile.

"Yes. You, Steve Harrington, are the best friend a girl could ever have." Thinking about the words, you realized how true they are. "You really are ... thank you for doing all this, for not running away when I almost threw up on you." You snorted. "I don't know what I'd do without you." He flapped his hand out.

"Alright, alright. Enough thanking, I'm the best, I know."

You laughed at his antics, and there it was. That smile he'd taken overtime at work just to see. The smile that hit him like a truck every time, the one that made his knees weak and his head dizzy. The smile he'd pay anything in the world to have a lifetime's supply of. He smiled back.

"And, for the record," Steve said, voice dreamy with thoughts of you. "I don't know what I'd do without you either."

A comfortable silence overtook you and Steve for a moment. You were already feeling a thousand times better, but it took effort to keep the smile on your face. Steve could see how your eyes still held a sadness in them that he knew wouldn't leave you for at least a little while, and all he wanted to do was reach out, wipe the tears off of your cheeks and tell you how amazing you were. Considering you for a second, something in Steve's stare softened. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, um, you know how I told you that you looked great when I picked you up earlier?"

You blinked, leaving your thoughts behind and having no idea where your best friend could possibly be going with this. Either way, you nodded slowly, hesitantly. Steve chewed on his lip, a habit you knew he'd had since you were little.

"Yea, well, I didn't mean really mean to say that." Your jaw slacked.

"Steve what-"

"Wait, crap, that wasn't what I meant." He ran a hand through his hair, which had an extra amount of product in it for the occasion. He really wanted to get this right.

"What I really meant was that," he ran his tongue over his bottom lip like he was nervous, "that you look more than great. Stunning. That you look like the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I just ... I didn't know how to put it into words right then and there. I still don't." His eyes raked over you, and you couldn't believe how much love they held as they raked over your runny-mascara-wearing, still slightly nauseous, hardly sober state. "Even now. You'll always look stunning to me."

You felt your heartbeat speed up from inside your chest. Had he always looked at you like that? Like he was so deeply entranced by you? Like you held all the answers to the world's secrets inside of you?

You didn't know exactly what to say, where this was coming from. You looked at him deeply, trying to figure out just that. Instead, you let your eyes wander to each inch of his face, one that you've known for years and should've been fully acquainted with. But, you couldn't help but think, had Steve's eyes always shimmered so brightly? Did his hair always look so soft? His lips so pink? God, how could someone look so angelic in bathroom lighting?

"I don't know how you can say that with how I must look right now," you commented with a soft smile, suddenly insecure. You went to brush a piece of your hair back, but Steve caught your hand tenderly in his own.

"You look beautiful." A blush spread through your face and Steve's heart fluttered at the sight. "You're beautiful." He didn't know where this sudden surge of confidence was coming from, but he didn't want to let the moment pass.

You couldn't figure it out either, what had made him suddenly want to tell you all this. Deep inside you, you hoped that the reason was the same one that had you blushing under his gaze. The same reason you'd always felt a connection to him, one stronger than any other best friends you'd known. There was a reason your parents, as strict as they were, always kept Steve around. Did they see something more?

A feeling of hopefulness swelled deep in your chest. Hopfuless and curiosity.

"Steve," you asked quietly. He hummed in response. You were still close, Steve still holding your hand in his. You could count his lashes and the beauty marks on his face. You took a breath in.

"Is there any reason why you're telling me all this?"

Steve's features were unmoving, everything but his eyes that seemed to dilate and swirl like pools of chocolate and honey. He slightly shook his head as his lips tried to form an answer.

"Because I think you need to hear it."

His answer was sweet, so genuine that you ached because you knew Steve was too good for you, too good for this world. But your heart still ached for another answer, one that you were too scared to voice yourself. But, when else would the opportunity come?

"Are you sure there's no other reason?"

Steve looked at you, eyes trying to read yours with a sense of desperation strong enough to have the corners of his eyes creasing. Did he understand what you were asking? He gave your wrist a squeeze, like he was looking for the courage to answer from the very point where your bodies met.

"No," he said. "I'm not sure." He interlaced the fingers of both your hands. "I just," he tucked his bottom lip beneath his top nervously. "I don't know if you'd want to hear the other reason."

Your heartbeat was fast enough that you were sure he could hear it. Could feel it, pulsing from your chest to the hands that he held. You were both pouring your hearts out with hidden messages and disguised confessions. You hoped with all of your heart that Steve meant what you thought he did.

"I think," you squeezed his hand, "I think I do want to hear the other reason. I think I really, really do."

Steve leaned forward so that your foreheads met. It reminded you of nights spent together as kids, pinky promises, and shared secrets. This secret would be the biggest of them all.

"I'm just scared that the reason might scare you off. That ... that it might not be what you want to hear. That it isn't what you think it is."

As you stared into his eyes with your own, you realized you hadn't been more sure of anything else in your life. Even if it was cliche, even if you both probably should've stopped doing this years ago, you held up your pinky finger. "Trust me, it's what I want to hear."

Steve noticed your finger, meekly held out in the air waiting for a response. Even if the tradition was old, too old, he raised his pinky and interlocked it with yours. He grinned.

"Okay good, 'cause I don't know how much longer I could've hidden it." He looked down at your interlocked fingers, and then back at you. "You're not just my best friend. You haven't been, for too long for me to admit." He gripped your hand in his, interlocked hands and pinky fingers squeezing. "You're the girl I fell in love with."

Your heart swelled. "And you, Steve Harrington," you breathed, "are the boy that I fell in love with. Hard. And I've truly been an idiot for trying to keep that a secret."

Steve smiled, an adorable gleam in his eye.

"What'd I tell you about calling yourself an idiot?" You grinned back.

"Well, that's one pinky promise I might have to break."

You both laughed with love-filled smiles, and when your heads came closer together, an explosion of emotions melted into every inch of your body. Somehow, the distance never closed. You were about to frown, but Steve rested his head on yours again.

"I want this, so bad that it hurts. Trust me." He fondly smiled down at you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face to behind your ear. "You don't know how long I've thought about this moment. How many times I've imagined it. Which is why, I'd prefer if we were both completely sober when I kiss my best friend for the first time. I want us both to remember every detail." He laughed softly under his breath. "And maybe not nauseous. That'd help."

You wanted to be upset, but then you broke out into a fit of laughter, eyes squinting enough so hard that you couldn't even see Steve's relieved and laughing face. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in his arms as you both laughed warmly to each other on the floor of a stranger's bathroom.

You were sure you smelled of alcohol and nausea, but it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to, anymore. You knew, just knew, that this is where you want to be. Right here, in the arms of Steve, the boy you fell for, hard. You could promise it.

[klistohikaru]

I hope they'll have a happy future.

[aethermint]

According to the duffer brothers the Harrington's and the Byers are NEIGHBOURS??? Right by Mirkwood and the Hawkins Lab.... Lots of Fanfic potential right there.

[eeternalferret]

Charmac — revolution 0

[nicstylus]

Heres the version with the background

[eddieintheupsidedown]

childhood bffs steddie who made a pact to get married if they aren’t in serious relationships by the time they’re 30

they both kind of forgot about it and drifted apart. now living in different states, with no contact

until a few days before days before steve’s 30th birthday, when he hears a knock on his door and opens it to see eddie lean against the doorframe

“hey there big boy, remember that deal we made?” eddie reminds him of the silly talk they had when they were 10 and steve blushes, because he does remember. he also remembers the massive crush he had on eddie when they were kids.

[classyhideouthearth]

Ino vs. Sakura.

[messrsbyler]

byler headcanon (childhood edition) where…

i’m sure that more than once Lonnie got home late at night, reeking of beer, stumbling and barking orders and insults. and i’m sure Will knew what that meant. another fight was coming, a night full of screams and doors being slammed, his mother being exhausted and yelling at his dad until they were tangled in a battle that none of them ever won. those nights, Jonathan would come into Will’s room and say “let’s go for a ride”. a ride always meant the Wheeler’s house, where Jonathan would drop him off, babbling thanks after thanks to mrs. Wheeler for letting Will stay the night before he head back home to help handle the situation.

at first, Mike didn’t know why some nights Will would appear at his room with a plastic bag where a quick change of clothes and toothbrush and been shoved rather unceremoniously, twisting his fingers in the hem of his pajamas and looking shaken up. he never cared to know a reason, at least at first. Mike was always thrilled to have his best friend over, especially because those nights his mom would allow them to stay up past nine (nine thirty). Mike also didn’t know why his mother, who was so persistent keeping Mike’s sleeping schedule on the dot, was so flexible whenever Will stayed over those nights. he also never questioned this.

Will would always be a bit quiet at first, settling into the Wheeler’s basement and curling up on the sofa, knees to his chest and head bowed as if he was trying to take up as little space as posible. it took time, but Mike always managed to break through that shell, whether it was by doing something silly like fitting a pair of pants on his head to pretend he was an elf with long hair or by just commenting on the new board game his mother had bought him… DnD. all of Mike’s excitement for having Will over would soon rub on Will, and whatever had soured his mood would soon be shoved to the back of his mind.

but then there was this one night. this one night Will showed up as he usually did, at his door, looking shaken up, with a red nose and marks under his eyes. he had been crying, and Mike couldn’t figure out why. he tried to do it all. showing Will his new trick of throwing popcorn in the air and catching it with his mouth, share his video games with him, bring out his toy swords so they would play to battle each other. but all his efforts were useless. Will wouldn’t stop shaking, his eyes wouldn’t stop watering and he wouldn’t stop looking down at the floor with his gaze lost.

“Will?” Mike asked, giving up on his last attempt and deciding to sit next to his friend instead. when Will didn’t say anything, Mike tapped him on the shoulder. Will jumped back, making Mike retreat as well. Will’s eyes were wide open and a single tear fell to his cheek. he looked… scared. “Hey,” Mike said, tilting his head to meet his friend’s eyes.

a beat of silence. two beats. and then, “Hi.”

“why are you sad?” Mike asked with a frown.

Will hitched in a breath and his hazel eyes rested on the thread sticking from his shirt. he pulled on it twice before saying, “he left.”

“who?”

“my dad. he- uhm… he left home.” Will turned to Mike. “i don’t think he’s coming back this time.”

Mike’s brows dipped even further. “oh.”

Mike then thought back to his parents and wondered if it was even allowed for one of them to leave. he didn’t think so, but he could be wrong. he knew Dustin’s dad wasn’t around either, though the thought kept feeling strange in his head.

he didn’t know what to say. Mike knew Will probably needed words and comfort. he looked at the edge of breaking down into sobs. but how could Mike know what to say to him? sure, his parents fought a lot and it was awful, but that little fact seemed like a drop of water next to Will’s ocean of issues with his family, with tides that kept knocking him out of balance and to the ground. and besides, Mike was bad with words. most times than not he said the wrong things because he didn’t took the time to think about them first. if he said something wrong now, Will would probably start crying, and then he would cry more, embarrassed of crying in front of Mike.

so, instead of saying anything, Mike scooted closer and set his hand right next to Will’s, close enough so their pinkies were touching. Will didn’t move and didn’t look at Mike. he then linked their pinkies together and tugged gently at Will’s, twice.

Will sniffled and tugged back, twice. they didn’t play that night and didn’t watch any movies. they didn’t talk either. at some point, Will started sobbing and Mike, to give him some space, grabbed the comic laying close to the couch and pretended to read, so Will wouldn’t noticed him hearing him cry. with one hand he turned the pages even though he was taking none of the story in, and with the other he held Will’s pinky, tugging here and there twice so Will would tug twice back.

they fell asleep on the couch like that and by the next morning, when Jonathan came to pick Will up, Mike interlocked their pinkies once more and smiled at Will, who then smiled back at Mike.

from that day on, this new tradition grew, a way to communicate with the other when words didn’t seem to fit the situation. so whenever one was worried about the other, whenever they suspected the other was having a hard time or was sad or simply under the weather, they would reach out across the couch or underneath tables and interlock their pinkies. two tugs to ask “hey, are you okay?”, one tug back to say “yes” and two to say “no”. and whenever it was no, they simply stayed like that until the bell rang or one of them and to return home. it was their little secret, a way of checking on the other without needing words.

[brabe]

when fanfic happens in real life 🥺😭💞

i had to add his replies to people because boy is smitten

UPDATE: THEY’RE BOYFRIENDS 🌈🎊💘

🍂✨heartstopper couch date 💛💙

[shouta-edits]

3. a moodboard for espeon x charmeleon(f) with childhood best friends, growing up, college (accounting), and fire and rain themes? =)

[sapphireginger]

You Left Me

Summary:

A house needed a foundation to build on and so did their pack but by the time Stiles got the pack to listen, they all blamed him. He didn’t understand why but during one pack meeting they pointed out how all of their problems somehow connected to Stiles. Stiles panicked because in truth he was the one who saved them time and time again. So how was he at fault?

AO3 Link

Stiles didn’t know where he was going as he ran through the forest. All he knew was he couldn’t go back. Home wasn’t home anymore as evidenced by the way his friends couldn’t stand to look at him. He thought he could stay and ignore how they avoided him, but he gave up after a week. The final straw, the reason behind him running through the forest, was a fight with Scott. He felt tears stream down his cheeks as he thought back on the conversation they had less than an hour ago.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“I don’t know what more you want from me Scott!” he shouted.

“I don't want anything from you. I don’t want you around,” Scott shouted back.

Stiles froze and his eyes narrowed. “Seriously? I haven’t done anything wrong. I defended myself. You know that, and I’ve already resigned myself to being ignored by all of you. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“You can leave. You can stop filling the halls with the scent of sadness and hurt. You brought this on yourself. You’re not allowed to walk the halls trying to make us feel bad for wanting nothing to do with you. This is all your fault. You can’t blame us for defending ourselves from you. I mean we know what happened to Allison and then Donovan. Who’s to say Lydia’s not next? Or Isaac? Or Danny? Or Jackson? It’s like the Nogitsune never left!” Scott yelled with a growl.

“Allison wasn’t my fault, Scott. That was all him. I fought—”

Scott snarled. “Don’t lie, Stiles. You killed her and you loved it. Stop using him as an excuse for how fucked up you are! Leave! If I see you again after tonight, I will kill you,” he spat.

Stiles felt his heart shatter. When he looked up again and saw that Scott was serious, he turned and ran.

✠ 🐾 ✠

The blood pounding in his ears snapped him back to the present. His shirt was soaked through from the downpour. It was late into the night and he didn’t know where to go or what to do. Why should he keep going? His dad intercepted a robber while he was off duty one night and was killed. His dad was dead and he had nothing and no one left.

Beacon Hills had been Stiles’s only home since he was born. It was eighteen, almost nineteen, years later and that was still the case. Through all the clashes with various supernatural beings over the years their small pack stayed strong but it was also fractured. Stiles did his best to mend the cracks in the foundation but it was almost impossible when they didn’t have one to begin with.

A house needed a foundation to build on and so did their pack but by the time Stiles got the pack to listen, they all blamed him. He didn’t understand why but during one pack meeting they pointed out how all of their problems somehow connected to Stiles. Stiles panicked because in truth he was the one who saved them time and time again. So how was he at fault?

Everyone had ignored him for some fault they found in him. Stiles knew their reasons were meritless, but it hurt so bad. He stopped caring. When he tripped on a root and crashed to the ground he didn’t bother even getting up. He just laid on the ground letting the tears stream down his face. He was so tired. He was tired of being alone, ignored, blamed, and a part of him was tired of living. It was a downhill slide from then on. Stiles closed his eyes, curled up into a ball on the forest floor and drifted off.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂

He woke with a start, his eyes wide as he tried to get his bearings. He wasn’t outside anymore and he looked down to see himself in dry clothes. He wondered how that happened as he looked around the space he found himself in. It seemed like a small cabin but he didn’t remember any cabins in the forest, and he would remember if there had been one because he’d grown up exploring every inch of it. He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times but the scenery didn’t change.

He looked at his hands and counted. 1, 2, 3…all the way up to 10 to prove to himself that he was indeed awake. He was cold and pulled the blanket closer around him. Wait! He looked at the blanket and then took a deep breath in through his nose. When the scent filled his nostrils it threw him into a pile of memories.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Mischief!” a boy called out to him.

Stiles beamed and hurried over. “Hi, Theodorable!” he said giggling.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Mischief? Did you ask your mom?”

Stiles nodded and held up a sleeping bag. “She said we can sleep in the tree house!”

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Happy Birthday dear Mischiefffffff! Happy Birthday to you!” Theo laughed and handed Stiles his gift.

Stiles gasped and squealed. “How’d you get his autograph?!” He threw himself at Theo and beamed.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Don’t worry, Theo! I brought all your favorites. Movie night is on!” Stiles cheered

Theo curled up under the blanket. “You’re the best, Mischief.”

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Hello?” Stiles said quietly as he entered the house. He looked around at the now empty building. His breath caught and he teared up. “No! Where’d you go?” he cried out before searching the entire house, finding no one and nothing. He went outside and collapsed on the porch steps sniffling. “Theo.”

✠ 🐾 ✠

Stiles’s eyes snapped open and he looked around again. “Theo?” he whispered.

“Hey, Mischief,” a voice to his right said quietly.

Stiles whipped his head in the direction of the voice and came face to face with a guy his age. He was gorgeous and Stiles blushed lightly taking in the blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jawline (unlike Scott’s crooked one), and the smile. “H-Hi,” he replied quietly. He was struggling to hold back tears when he heard his childhood nickname spoken for the first time in years. Only his mother and Theo had been allowed to call him Mischief. Stiles didn’t realize how much he missed hearing that name.

Theo gestured to the couch. “May I sit?”

Stiles nodded and went to move his feet but Theo simply lifted them, sat down, and let them rest on his lap.

“You had me worried.” Stiles quirked an eyebrow and Theo continued. “I found you. Your lips were blue and when I touched you, you were so cold. I did my best to warm you up but I was scared I’d lost you,” he whispered and started rubbing small circles on Stiles‘s ankle with his thumb.

Stiles melted at the touch and looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just had to leave. I guess if dying was truly my goal, I could’ve just stayed and let him kill me.”

Theo growled low at that but with a bemused look from Stiles, he cleared his throat. “Who?”

“Scott,” Stiles replied in barely a whisper.

Theo didn’t stop his growl this time. “He threatened you?”

Stiles nodded.

“Why?”

Stiles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I can’t go home anymore. Once I’m warmed up, I’ll get out of your hair too.”

Theo frowned and shook his head. “No. You’re not bothering me and I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wanted you to disappear.”

“But you disappearing is just fine?” Stiles asked, meeting Theo’s gaze.

“I—” Theo started but sighed. He swallowed thickly, struggling to speak with the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. “I didn’t want to leave. I was forced to. They threatened you. So, I left, but I kept an eye on you as best I could. Once I was old enough to deal with them myself, I did so.”

“Really?”

Theo nodded. “There was nothing that would ever stop me from coming back to you. I can back to you, came back for you, Bambi. I’m here.”

“Now you’re here?”

Theo nodded and met Stiles’s gaze with utmost sincerity. “I’m here.”

Stiles tilted his head, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “For how long?”

“As long as you want me here.”

“So, forever?”

“Is that what you want?”

Stiles swallowed and nodded before averting his gaze. “Yeah,” he admitted in barely a whisper.

Theo moved closer, his hand sliding up to grip Stiles’s thigh, the touch grounding them both. “Then I’ll never leave you again.”

“Never?”

“Never ever.”

“Promise?” Stiles inquired, leaning closer, unaware he was doing so but not pulling back nonetheless.

Theo shook his head, stopping just short of kissing the amber eyed man. “I promise.”

Stiles closed the remaining distance between their lips and sighed into the kiss, finally finding what had been missing all these years and vowing to never let go of Theo, to never let go of his happiness, ever again.