#bsf!reader

bsf!rafe who gets that quiet, irritated look when people ask if you’re his girlfriend, “nah, just my best friend” but something about it never sits right with him anymore.

bsf!rafe who almost lost it on topper for talking about you like that, stepping in before he could even finish his sentence. “watch your fucking mouth.” he tells topper, inches away from his face, making topper fall back, with his hands up

bsf!rafe who can’t stand seeing you with other guys, and acts off the second you mention a date, going quieter, shorter with his words. “he good enough for you?” but doesn’t know what to call the feeling, he just knows it makes his chest tighten and his mood flip instantly.

bsf!rafe who knows that if he calls, you’ll come, no matter where you are, no matter who you’re with, and there’s something about that that both comforts him and absolutely messes with his head.

bsf!rafe who leans a little too close sometimes, lets his hand linger a second too long, says things that toe the line, but doesn’t want to ruin what you have, but at the same time, the idea of someone else having you? yeah, no that’s not something he can ignore much longer.

bsf!rafe who has a spare key to your place, so he doesn’t knock when he comes over, he just walks in like it’s his place, calling your name until he finds you.

bsf!rafe who has a spot in your room that’s basically his at this point, so whenever you’re with other friends in your apartment they know not to touch or be in ‘rafes spot’

bsf!rafe who steals your food without asking but will absolutely buy you whatever you want five minutes later.

bsf!rafe who will call you for the silliest things like what shirt he should wear or what he should eat, because your opinion just matters the most.

bsf!rafe who lets you mess with his hair, his rings, his watch collection. stuff he wouldn’t let anyone else touch without a second thought.

bsf!rafe who has inside jokes with you that literally no one else understands, and the two of you will be laughing while everyone else is confused.

bsf!rafe who lets you wear his hoodies and never asks for them back knowing you look better in them anyway, even though he’ll complain about it every time. “you’ve got like five of ‘em.”

bsf!rafe who texts you “you busy?” but not for anything serious, just because he’s bored and wants to annoy you. 

bsf!rafe who will defend you instantly, no hesitation, even if he doesn’t fully know what’s going on yet.

bsf!rafe who will absolutely argue with you over the dumbest things, then be over it five minutes later like nothing happened.

bsf!rafe who trusts you with things he doesn’t tell anyone else, even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

bsf!rafe who keeps a photobooth picture of you and him in his wallet that you put in there as a joke one night. and he refuses to take it out because, ‘that’s his girl’ 

bsf!rafe who will sit through things he absolutely hates just because you like them, movies, shopping, whatever, complaining the whole time but never actually thinking of leaving. but when it comes to the victoria secret runs, oh how he wishes he could be in the dressing room with you. 

bsf!rafe who has a different tone when he talks to you compared to everyone else. It’s softer and less guarded, even if he doesn’t realize it.

bsf!rafe who started calling you “princess” as a joke because you were such a spoiled brat, always getting your way, always a little dramatic, but then it just stuck.

bsf!rafe who says it so casually now, like it’s second nature. “relax, princess,” “c’mon, princess,” but there’s never any real malice behind it.

bsf!rafe who lowkey enables it too, even while teasing you about it, rolling his eyes as he hands you what you want anyway. “for the spoiled princess.”

bsf!rafe who’s the only one who can get away with calling you that without it sounding condescending, because coming from him it just feels familiar, and yours.

bsf!rafe who’ll mumble “such a princess” under his breath when you complain about something minor, but there’s a small smirk on his face every time. but would absolutely get angry if anyone else tried to call you that, though. that’s his thing.

bsf!rafe who notices you don’t correct him, and honestly don’t even react to it half the time, and something about that makes him say it more. and he’ll say it when you’re upset too, quieter like, “hey..don’t do that princess,” like it’s his way of grounding you without making it too sentimental.

bsf!rafe who in the end, doesn’t even realize when it started, the way he looks at you, the way he needs you, the way he’s always thinking about you every time, but somewhere along the way, you stopped being just his best friend.

you and rafe were inseparable.

still are.

since the early age of four in he’s been following you around like a lost puppy. constantly trying to get your attention, the poor boy. you often saw his constant need and struggle for someone to just care for him as an affect of his asshole of a father mainly bringing him up.

your parents just somehow managed to strengthen your bond with him by becoming closer to one another themselves. during your childhood and with rafe, your parents obviously drifted closer by spending practically every weekend together. of course they would, naturally. both your mother and his step mother, rose, are wealthy, snobby women of the upper side in the outer banks. and your fathers? please. they could be brothers.

ward cameron, business fiend and dickhead supreme, clearly is best suited to become bourbon drinking buddies with your father. every tuesday, thursday and saturday without a doubt your father is “invited” over to the cameron household. therefore meaning you and your mother have to come too.

now after years of these years and many similar nights, you don’t mind. i mean, you are visiting your little rafe…

knock knock knock

“darling i’m sure ward will love your bourbon you brought don’t worry dear” standing on the cameron manor porch, your mother attempts to reassure and calm your father by pressing a haste kiss to his stubbly cheek. smoothing down his suit, she shuffles backwards as he scoffs and glares at her.

“why wouldn’t he maria?! it’s bourbon from fucking germany, the best bourbon making country in the goddamn world.” father sighs, agitated once again. muttering something about her being a stupid woman. you stand there, behind them both. watching mother, her long, recently blown out hair floating in the wind, revealing the open back of her pastel blue sundress. and watching father too. his broad shoulders filling most of the imposing cameron manor front door’s frame. his grey suit reflecting him beautifully. bland and fucking boring. your hands start twisting with your silver bracelets and small golden rings as you try to become invisible. as you try to keep out of your parents fraying marriage and their ongoing petty arguments once again.

the door swings open.

rose cameron stands there, rafes step mother. her short blonde hair is recently bleached and shoved behind her ears. flaunting her iridescent mauve jumpsuit and boisterous, awfully chunky gold necklace. she paints a firm smile onto her matching mauve lips and pushes her hair even further behind her ears. the glow of the metal of the bangles on her wrist catch the setting evening sun and flash into your eyes, blinding you for a second.

“maria! damien! welcome!” she reaches forward and pecks your mother’s cheeks swiftly, peering over her shoulder at you in slight disgust. “i see you all made it fine! me and ward were awfully worried about the god awful weather in paris stopping you from flying home from france… he would be horrified if he missed his bourbon drinking date” rose smiles, her cheeks plastered with foundation, rising like cakes being baked. “oh silly me- come in come in! we have so much to talk about maria.. i mean we have to plan midsummers and the food and outfits- oh and damien, you know where ward is” she lets out a sharp chuckle and beams brightly. rose doesn’t even bother you a second glance as she ushers your parents inside, leaving you standing on the porch. the soft breeze playing with your hair.

what a bitch.. you sigh, your shoulders drooping. rafe must be upstairs like always.

you slide into the manor. quiet, invisible one again. pressing the grand double doors shut and starting to trail up the winding staircase.

after a moment climbing up the spiralling stairs and scurrying across the landing, you stop outside rafe’s door.

knock knock knock

“rafey? it’s me?” you murmur to the door, praying he’s inside.

a moment.

the door pulls open.

inside? stands rafe, low slung grey sweatpants, gold chain around his neck, red bull can in hand.

his room? you peek inside, well you try to. it’s mostly dark. all his blinds are shut, and the only light, apart from the glow of his flatscreen tv opposite his bed is crawling underneath his curtains. the hum of some faint song by someone like chase atlantic or the weeknd dances around the room and the faint smell of weed and aftershave wraps around you, embracing you into a warm, familiar hug.

“doll- i- hey” he smirks, before snatching your wrist and pulling you into his den.

he plops onto the crimson velvet couch at the end of his king size bed before drawing a blunt out of his pocket and dropping his empty red bull can onto the floor with a clatter.

holding the not lit blunt in his teeth, he grabs one of the stray hoodies laying on his floor before pulling it over his head. he flickers his lighter, pulled from his pocket and lights the blunt. takes an inhale and blows out a small cloud of smoke. “cmon bun” grinning ear to ear, he pats his thigh “sit, you know i don’t bite”

you giggle, a sweet melodic tune that dances throughout rafe’s brain.

fuckk…. he thinks..

he drags a rough hand over his face, making some attempt to clean his impure brain of the image of you on your knees in between his thighs with his thick cock wrapped around your pretty pink lips.

you toe off your polished black mary jane’s, leaving them by his bedroom door before pushing it shut quietly. you scuttle over, slipping and sliding all over his recently waxed hardwood floor with your pale pink frilly socks covering your small feet.

he smirks again.. this sweet, sweet girl.

“hi rafey” you murmur whilst you plop onto his lap with a faint thud.

“miss’d you bunny” he immediately lets his hands wander over your waist and he pulls you up so you’re laying back onto his chest as he grabs his playstation controller before starting to play his game. some fighting game no doubt.

“me too rafey..” you coo “im sorry i went away for so long.. france was boring, mom just wanted to drink and dad just wanted to scream at her..im here now though” you say before offering him a weak smile.

“oh bun.. they still rocky?” he hums, pressing you into his side more.

“mhm..i- uh- heard them yelling over some papers the other night too when i was trying to sleep.. its all going wrong rafey i’ve wanted to speak to you for ages but-” you mumble, turning your head so you can bury your lightly dolled up face into his bare bicep.

“oh pretty..” he sighs, stroking your hair like a puppy’s soft fur coat “it’ll be for the best if they divorce hm? yeah?”

“yeah.. you’re right.. i mean at least i might be able to at least sleep then? right?” trying to laugh at your own joke, you press your face further into his arm, turning slightly more so you can lay on his chest better.

“mh yeah good girl.. you can move in with me too if you want when i get my own place later this year hm? jus’ us two in a big house while i finish college yeah?”

“yeah.. uh- i’d like that… yeah..” you whimper. a tear. two tears. three. four. a stream. a river.

“shi- no no bunny don’t cry.. shh… sh..”

sobbing, you grasp his neck and cry softly into his shoulder.

blubbering uselessly, you try to form some coherent thought “b-but- m…m-my d-dad-d-daddy! n-no l…li-like me”

“don’t stress bun.. yeah? fuck your dad. that’s what i say.” he cradles your head, his golden rings that adorn each finger glint in the glow of his tv and his fingers rake through your hair, the playstation controller forgotten. “i can be your daddy for all you care bun.. let rafey care for you.. let me help you.. please pretty girl” he whines pathetically.

you nod mindlessly whilst continuing to whimper and sniffle into his chest.

you don’t even notice he’s manage to hike your baby pink floral print sundress dress up to your waist until his thick golden brown fingers dance along your inner thigh, trickling into your panties quietly.

“shh.. rafe’s got you bun.. focus on me hm?” you can almost hear the smugness melting off his tongue and into his speech, bastard.

you look down at your thighs, expecting to just see his hand squeezing and kneading the flesh. oh-! shit. when did he take my underwear off-.

a pinch, a stoke of your little nub. “r-rafe!”

“you like tha’ hm? shh.. shh.. dry those eyes babygirl.. no crying for rafe”

a finger.. or is it three? press inside of you suddenly.

“mh!” you whine like a needy puppy, for a different reason this time. not crying over your stupid parents, but your best friend.

“sh.” he hisses “keep quiet now, wouldn’t want mommy and daddy to find out their precious girl is being finger fucked by her best friend now would we?”

you shake your head, frantic. “n-no…”

“good girl.. open wide for rafe now” he taps your sealed lips with his cum slicked index and middle finger before forcing your soaked through pink lace panties into your waiting mouth. his fingers slide back down to your puffy folds and little hole, that’s currently clenching on air. trailing his middle finger down from your clit, he thrusts it in. the contrast of the cool metal of the ring on his finger and the warmness of your walls making you sharply inhale.

squelch squelch squelch

the wet, grotesque squelching sounds of his sound fingers thrusting into you and spreading your wetness around your folds fill the air.

another finger presses into your hole. roughly curling around the point, that fills your vision with stars and black, he found so well. so quickly.

eyes rolling back, you buck your hips, frantic. humping his hand, you groan. silently begging and pleading for permission to come.

“nuh uh, too soon bun.. i’ve not even got my cock out yet and you want to squirt all over my fingers?” he scoffs “pathetic slut” he spits at you, and a firm slap is delivered meanly to your pulsing folds making you jump.

suddenly, you’re not on his lap. you’re bent over the arm of the crimson couch, the plush velvet digging into your knees as rafe rams his mean cock into your folds from behind.

“uh-mh-mm!” you whine and squirm, pleading for more friction.

“if i knew you were this much of a slut my dick wouldn’t have left this tight cunt in years…” he pants, breathing heavily. “take it- mh.. some best friend you are” he chuckles as he bullies his cock into you, the angry red tip prodding your cervix, inching you closer to your orgasm every thrust. his balls burying into the curve of your plump ass. “oh bun- she’s just swallowing me whole.. greedy hole gripping my cock so well, taking rafey so well hm?”

despite his roughness, rafe continues to stroke your hair somehow comfortingly, tugging every few moments as the odd ring on his finger gets stuck in your locks.

“see bun? it’s okay, you’ve got me, fuck your parents yeah? jus’ need- m..me… rafe” he groans as he gets closer to his climax.

“god i’ve been waiting to do this for years..” he murmurs as he leans down to nibble your shoulder as he continues to ram into you unrelentingly, the wet sounds now more violent and vicious.

“You know how Saturdays are my reset days, right?” you say, sitting cross-legged on Addie’s bed, your best friend, absently peeling the backing off a lash strip you’re not even going to put on.

Addie hums. “The sacred ritual.”

“Exactly. Lashes off. Face bare. No witnesses.”

You pause, then laugh quietly. “Except apparently Chris.”

Addie’s head snaps toward you. “Chris as in spare key Chris?”

You nod. “Chris as in spare key Chris.”

You lean back against the headboard, eyes drifting somewhere far away, the way they do when you’re replaying something you didn’t realize mattered until it already did.

“So it was a Saturday. I had one earbud in, music playing, just… vibing. I was in my room reorganizing my vanity, and I realized I was out of cotton pads. No big deal. I go to grab more from the hall closet.”

You gesture vaguely, like you can still see it.

“And I’m wearing those shorts,” you say. “The ones that are basically illegal. And that cropped shirt I only wear when I don’t plan on being perceived by another human being.”

Addie grins. “Those shorts.”

“Those shorts,” you confirm. “And I bend down to grab the cotton pads, and I have no idea, no idea at all, that Chris unlocks my door right then.”

Your voice softens.

“He walks in, sets the takeout down, and just… stops.”

Addie raises an eyebrow. “Stops?”

“Stops,” you repeat. “Not creepy. Not gross. Just… quiet. Like he walked into something he wasn’t supposed to see but didn’t want to ruin.”

You swallow.

“I didn’t notice. I had my earbud in. I grabbed what I needed, straightened up, and walked back to my room like nothing happened.”

-

You pad down the hallway without thinking, bare legs, oversized hoodie abandoned somewhere behind you. You bend down in the storage closet, reaching for the extra pack you know you bought weeks ago and promptly forgot about.

In the kitchen, Chris unlocks your door like he’s done it a hundred times before.

He steps inside quietly, already familiar with the place. Takeout in one hand, phone in the other. He doesn’t call your name right away. Just slips his shoes off, heads toward the counter.

And then he sees you.

Not your face yet. Just the shape of you, framed in a way you never meant to show anyone. The way your shorts sit on your hips. The natural curve of you as you lean forward, completely unguarded.

He stops.

Not because it’s inappropriate. Not because it’s shocking.

Because it’s… you.

Relaxed. Real. Existing without trying to be anything else.

His throat tightens. He looks away after a second, like the moment belongs to you and he’s just accidentally walked into it. But the image stays. Quiet. Warm. Familiar in a way that scares him a little.

You straighten up, cotton pads in hand, still humming softly to whatever’s playing in your ear. You don’t hear him. You don’t sense him.

-

Addie’s smile fades just a little. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Apparently he watched me walk away.”

You pick at the edge of the lash strip.

“When I finally came back out, I was scrolling on my phone, totally relaxed, and I look up… and he’s just standing there in my kitchen.”

-

You move back toward your room, passing the kitchen doorway without looking in.

Chris exhales slowly.

He sets the takeout down, leans back against the counter, and waits.

A minute passes. Maybe two.

You come back out, this time distracted, scrolling on your phone as you walk. You lift your head mid-step and freeze.

Chris is standing in your kitchen.

Your stomach drops.

-

Your stomach still flips, even now.

“I froze. My heart actually dropped. I immediately went, ‘Oh my god, how long have you been here?’”

“And?” Addie asks.

“And he smiled,” you say. “Like that calm, gentle smile he does. And he goes, ‘Not long.’”

You exhale.

-

He smiles, small and careful. “Not long.”

You glance down at yourself. Bare face. Short shorts. The shirt you’d never wear if you knew someone was coming over.

“I completely forgot you were coming today,” you say, mortified but laughing a little. “This is… not how I usually look.”

Chris’s eyes soften.

-

“I started apologizing. Like full panic mode. I was like, ‘I don’t usually look like this, I swear.’ And he just… looked at me. Not checking me out. Not scanning. Just looking.”

Your voice lowers.

“And he said I looked comfortable. Like I was at home.”

-

“I know,” he says. Then, after a beat, “That’s kind of why it’s nice.”

You pause.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, pushing off the counter, giving you space even as he steps closer. “You look comfortable. Like you’re at home.”

You swallow.

“I don’t have my lashes on,” you say quietly, like it’s a confession.

“I noticed,” he replies gently.

Your heart skips, but his tone isn’t teasing. It’s warm. Steady.

“And?” you ask.

“And you’re still you,” he says. “Actually… you’re even more you.”

The room feels smaller after that. Not crowded. Just closer.

-

Addie presses her lips together. “That’s dangerous.”

“I told him I didn’t have my lashes on,” you say, quieter now. “Like that was the real problem.”

“And what did he say?” Addie asks, already knowing it’s going to hurt.

You smile faintly. “He said he noticed. And that I was still me. Actually… more me.”

The room is quiet.

“I didn’t put my lashes back on that day,” you admit. “We just ate lunch and watched a movie like normal. But everything felt… closer. Like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to, and instead of ruining it, he protected it.”

Addie watches you carefully. “You’re still thinking about it.”

You nod. Falling back into thought as Addie goes back to her makeup. Thinking about the part you refuse to tell her about…

-

This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go…

"Look at yourself," He grunted, hand twisted into your hair as he hold you up. "Look at how well you take this cock"

He had you bent over on your bed in front of the huge mirror you impulsively bought. His hand wrapped tightly through your hair, holding your head up as he pounds restlessly into you.

You see him staring at you faintly. Your eyes blurred from the collection of tears beginning to pool in your eyes from the sensation.

He really meant it when he said you look good without lashes…

"Don't close your eyes, look at me," He grunted, sending a hand to smack your ass hard, a sting sending more tears welling at the corners of your eyes. You obey, looking up at him in the mirror. "Good girl." He groaned, using the same hand to massage the freshly red spot of skin.

He moved the hand from your hair to your throat, pulling you higher, your upper back now flushed against his chest. "God, you're so pretty" He whispered into your ear, his hand finding its way to your tit.

"Look at yourself, so dumb for this dick, huh baby?"

Your hand finds his wrist, holding into it as his finger tips pressed firm into the sides of your throat. God, he was good at this.. How had you two not done this sooner.

You feel your peak closing around him, tightening. He felt it too, the hand on your tit traveling down to the sensitive bundle of nerve, rubbing small circles. "F-fuck chris.." You whimper, your thighs struggling to hold you up. If it weren't for the grip he has in your neck, you'd have fallen over by now.

"Cmon, pretty.. show me how good im making you feel.." He coos, that sends you overboard. Its like he read your mind, because the second he feels you release he's quick to follow your lead.

His warmth quickly fills you, spreading through your whole body. He lets you go gently, letting you collapse onto the bed beneath you.

He helps you put your clothes back on, apologizing for if he went too aggressively.

"Don't apologize..that was the best confidence booster i coulda ever asked for.." You laugh breathlessly.

IM INNA FLOW STATE RNNNN

you let out a deep sigh as your hand reaches out to the side only to feel the cold of the sheets next to you. your head turns, looking at the empty other side of the bed as your brows twitch in confusion. you push yourself up on bed, the sheets pooling at your waist as you slide your feet to the ground.

you walk downstairs as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the others. you knew how precious the little amount of sleep you all got these days, so you tried your best not to disturb it. you cautiously padded down the stairs, the soft tune of a piano becoming more and more prominent the closer you got downstairs. your confusion and curiousness led you closer to the soft and simple melody.

you round a corner and see steve sitting at a wood piano. you had once asked him about it, and he said that it was his grandmas, and it was a gift for his mom. you had never seen it been used, though - steves parents were hardly around, and even if they were, they were pretty busy people - they probably didn't have time to ever put it to use.

his fingers pressed softly against the keys, his brows pinched in concentration. you stood at the entrance for a moment, simply watching him. watching as he every now and then he fumbled with the notes, watching as his eyes raked across the keys as his fingers moved over them.

steve had felt your presence, yet he continued to play, his eyes flicking over to you once. once you realize he's noticed you, you start to walk over to the piano, sitting down next to him on the stool.

your head falls to his shoulder without you even realizing it, and you let out a long sign. "since when do you play?" you ask, your voice soft and barely above a whisper.

he shrugged. "mom made me take lessons in like, 4th grade. hated it, but clearly i picked up a little", he confesses, his voice low.

you hum, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. "i sometimes forget i haven't known you forever," you mumble, and his fingers slow their movements. he hummed back. "yeah, i know what you mean."

you sit in silence for a while, eyes transfixed by steves hands across the keys. words forever unsaid floated between you - thoughts not dared to be thought of pushing their way through the vulnerability of the moment. you felt weak enough to let them peak out, but you were too suborn to let them out fully.

"what're you doing up?" he finally asks, his head tilting to the side a little to try and get a view of you face.

you shrug. "what are you doing up?" you fire back knowingly.

steves lips tilt up a bit. "touché," he mumbles, his knee knocking yours. the action causes you to smile as well, relishing in the rare moment of peace.

you hum. the two of you go silent again for a moment before you speak up. "sometimes," you trail off, trying to find the right words. "sometimes i'm worried nothing is every going to feel normal again," you say the words in a whisper, almost as if your worried saying them out loud makes them more real.

steve processes your words for a moment. "honestly? things will probably never feel the way they used to," he says quietly.

steve notices your silence and adds on. "i just mean..." he sighs. "i mean, look at everything we've all been through. as much as i hate to say it, that shit sticks with you."

you furrow your brows, sitting up straight to look at him. "so what, i'm just going to feel this way forever?"

"f'course not, angel," steve says, his own brows narrowing. "your not going to feel this way forever. things will get better. they just..." he pauses. "probably wont ever feel the same."

you pout a bit, your head falling on his shoulder again. "how do you know?"

steve hums. "know what?" he asks.

"that things will get better," you clarify, voice muffled by his shoulder.

steve smirks a bit, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. "what, you think im going to let you go through this alone?" he scoffs. "please, honey, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

you let out a soft laugh. "believe me, i know," you tease.

steve scoffs, playfully pushing you away, heart racing when he hears the familiar yet these days, rare sound of your laughter. "m'kidding, dork," your murmur, knees pulling up as you hug them to your chest. you rest you cheek on them as you gaze at him from your position there, a lazy smile adorning your face. steve mimics you, his hand reaching out to tame your hair.

you hum. "what would i do without you?"

he shrugs. "probably would've been eaten by the demagorgon or some shit by now, i dunno," he teases.

your smile grows. "m'serious, stevie," you roll your eyes. "can't imagine all of this craziness without you."

steves smile turns more soft and genuine. "yeah," he almost whispers. "yeah i couldn't either."

you sit in silence for a moment, just looking at each other in quiet appreciation. the dimly lighted room illuminated just enough to see the other persons expression, and in each other you saw nothing short of admiration and adoration.

moments like these you knew a life with steve would be easy. moments like these you allow yourself to think it - even for just a moment, even though you know you'll banish the thought as soon as the moment is over. moments like these you can picture it. lazy mornings in bed, reading to each other in the backyard, talking about nothing and everything at the same time - it feels so real you can see it. you can taste it.

and you can see is run through steves mind as well. you can see the thoughts as they pass across his eyes, as they glaze over for him to daydream about it. about the life that could so easily be yours.

except its never really that simple, is it?

steves voice breaks the both of you out of your daydreams. "we should try to get some sleep, hey?" he says, his voice holding a hint of hesitance. "big day tomorrow, with all this vecna shit."

you nod into your knees but don't budge. "mhm."

steve sighs and stands up, reaching his hand down to you. "cmon," he urges. you can never really say no to him, so you reach up and take hold of his hand.

he pulls you up and drags you upstairs in silence. you leave all of it downstairs. you always do.

but when steve sits down on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and pulling you down next to him, the thought unsurprisingly peaks through.

you face away from him, from it, and turn back to face the windows. steve wraps his arms around you, and for a moment, your mind thankfully goes quiet.

no more thoughts of vecna, no more thoughts of the terrifying future. just the warmth of steves breath and the security of his arms.