#steddie x reader comfort

[this-is-mycrisis]

old money! soft boyfriend! steve would absolutely spoil his gf- totally not brought on by my hair and nail appointments- but he would totally pay for both of those. and he's totally being you food- i'm imagining sushi- and he would definitely help you eat it (esp. at the nail appointment). he'd love to sit with you for the duration of both- he'd just be so soft and in love.

[moonstruckme]

hi! I wondered if you could do a steddie x fem!reader comfort fic?? it could be anything like r has period cramps, a migraine or maybe she has a nightmare? thank you so much!!!

Hi my love, thank you for requesting!

poly!steddie x fem!reader ♡ 608 words

If Eddie wanted to wake up to an empty bed, he would be single. 

It’s the cold that gets his attention. When Eddie stretches out a leg, seeking either you or Steve to latch onto, his foot only goes sliding across the sheets to dangle off the other end of the bed. He sits up. 

The fuck?

He stumbles out of Steve’s bedroom feeling like he’s in the intro scene of a horror movie, all cold and disoriented and in his boxers, but the blue light of the TV leads him to the living room. There, he finds you and Steve all curled up and cozy, relishing in your shared body heat without him. 

“Hey, I’m pretty—” 

Steve shushes him harshly, clamping a protective hand over your head on his chest and looking up like Eddie’s mere presence is a scandal. (Which, to some, sure, but not usually to his boyfriend.) 

“She just fell asleep,” Steve whispers. “If you wake her up, I will kill you.” 

Eddie blinks. “Okay,” he says, quieter now. “I didn’t realize things were so dire, considering she was sleeping the last time I saw her. I was going to say that I’m pretty sure if my snoring wakes you guys up, I’m the one who’s supposed to go to the couch.” 

Steve breathes out. He reaches for Eddie’s hand, kissing his knuckles while petting the top of your head softly. 

“Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, I’ve been trying to get her to go back to sleep since, like, two.” Eddie glances at the clock below the TV. It’s nearly five. When his gaze returns to Steve, the other boy smiles sadly. “She had a bad dream.” 

The sound that leaves Eddie is soft and entirely involuntary, his knees bending so he can crouch in front of you both. “A real bad one, huh?” 

You’ve been having a lot of stress dreams lately, but none gnarly enough to keep you up for hours like this. He feels bad that he wasn’t there to comfort you. 

Steve nods, pretty mouth twisting ruefully. “Yeah, she was pretty upset. Crying and all that.” 

Eddie’s heart heavies. He has the urge to reach up and touch your leg, but he thinks Steve might tackle him. 

“She thought she might need a distraction before she could get back to sleep,” he goes on, “so we came to see what was on TV.”

Eddie looks at the two of you. You, breathing deep and even on Steve’s chest, and Steve, one arm curled around you with the other undoubtedly asleep and with nowhere to rest his head. 

“And you got yourself trapped,” Eddie deduces. 

Steve sighs. “Yep.” 

“Okay.” He worms a hand underneath your curled legs. “I don’t think she’ll have problems sleeping anymore.” He starts to lift you, ignoring the flurry of hushed protests from his boyfriend. 

“Fuck—don’t—wait—” 

You make a low, throaty sound, and Steve glowers. 

“Hey, baby,” Eddie grunts, hoisting you up to his chest (gently, he swears). “Ready to go back to bed?” 

“Oh.” It comes out of you in an exhale, and feels like a hand squeezed around his heart. You let your cheek go soft against his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry to leave you by yourself.” 

Eddie smiles. You know him so well. “I’ll give you a pass this once,” he says, glancing back at Steve. The other boy is standing like he’s forgotten how to work his legs, rubbing around his eyes and beginning the trudge to the bedroom. “You could’ve woken me, you know.” 

“You were snoring,” you hum. “You wouldn’t’ve heard us.” 

Steve huffs a laugh, and Eddie’s smile goes guilty. “Fair enough.”

[munsonomenon]

⛧☾༺’Casual’༻☽⛧

The Masterlist

༺ His first tour, a record deal, and a ‘casual’ love affair with the girl he never should’ve let go. Eddie had everything he ever wanted. At least he thought, until you’re in the crowd of his show and he spots the wandering hands of the one person everyone knew was hopelessly in love with you, except for yourself- Steve Harrington.

༺ pairing: rockstar! eddie x alt! fem reader, steve harrington x alt! fem reader

༺ contains: love triangle, angst, jealousy, slow burn, ‘she fell first, he fell harder’ trope, fluff, comfort, implied friends to lovers, smut, smoking, drinking, idiots in love, asshole! eddie

ೃ༄ Chapter I: The Prologue | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter II: Call it what you want | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter III: Bite the hand that feeds | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter IV: All this time | moodboard

ೃ༄ Chapter V: Like nothing matters | coming soon!

‘causal’ the playlist

spotify

ೃ༄ track list:

casual / chappell roan

brooklyn baby / lana del ray

call it what you want / taylor swift

daylight / harry styles

eye of the night / conan gray

wild side / suki waterhouse

bite the hand / boygenius

for whom the bell rolls / metallica

summer 2019 / caroline culver

songs i can’t listen to / neon trees

making the bed / olivia rodrigo

all this time / louis tomlinson

ode to a conversation / del water gap

boyfriend / against me!

grand theft autumn / fall out boy

nothing matters / the last dinner party

we’ll never have sex / leith ross

still loving you / scorpions

nothing else matters / metallica

follow you / bring me the horizon

dress / taylor swift

perfect / one direction

smile like you mean it / the killers

when love and death embrace / him

supercut / lorde

[pretty-pup-stevie]

Even If - Steve Harrington x ace!Reader

A/N: no context. Only soft angst with comfort. Reader is gender neutral and asexual

CW: angst, the kids being slight assholes on accident, Robin being a background hero, Reader is ace with v slight aro vibes, set during a new year’s party, kissing, teasing, implied future polyamory between Eddie and Steve and Reader, soft!Steve

719 words

You sit in the back of Eddie’s van with your legs tucked to your chest. It smells like weed and sweat and smoke. But it’s quiet and dark and you know the kids won’t bother you here.

The van door opens and someone enters. You don’t look up. Footsteps approach and someone settles next to you.

“Hey.”

You flinch. It’s Steve.

Slowly, you lift your head. Not looking at him, but enough so you can see him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s fiddling with the hole in his jeans again, picking at the frayed edges. You feel a lot like the hole, being picked at by the universe.

“The kids say they’re sorry.” You can see him turn his head a little to look at you. “They took it too far.”

You twist your fingers together tight enough that it hurts. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He reaches out and gently tugs your hands apart. Not holding your hand, but tracing your fingers all the same. “Robin chewed them out. Said it was your life, not theirs and that they had no business prying like that.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, but you’re quietly touched. Robin hadn’t ever particularly seemed to like you, but maybe you’d been wrong.

Eventually, though, you mumble, “I just… don’t. Have sex, I mean. It’s just… not me.”

Steve’s quiet, but you can tell he’s listening.

“I haven’t ever even kissed anyone. I’ve wanted to. But everyone always wants more than that, and I just…”

His hand squeezes yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There��s a really long silence. Then, softly, “So when you said you wanted to kiss me earlier…?”

You make a face, then sigh. “Just kiss. You’re really cute, but it’s just not in me to see you… like that.”

He nods and continues playing with your fingers. “I get it.”

Somehow, you think he actually means it.

You finally glance at him. He seems thoughtful, brown eyes fixed on a spot across from you. He really is so cute.

“You wanna try our new year’s kiss again?”

You blink and fully face him. “What?”

He quirks an eyebrow, a slight smirk to his lips. “It was pretty awkward with everyone watching. Just a kiss, nothing more.”

You hesitate. There’s so much that could go wrong. But something… something tells you it’s different this time.

So you nod. Slowly.

Steve nods back and reaches out to cup your cheek. Rubbing a thumb against your skin for a moment before gently leaning in. You close your eyes. His lips press to yours.

There are no sparks. No fireworks. No heart stops or swooning. His lips are soft and slightly wet. They taste like the feeling of warmth and very faintly of chapstick.

He doesn’t part his lips or lick at your mouth or anything. It’s just a press of lips and then nothing. And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever experienced.

You open your eyes and he smiles at you. Gives you that perfectly charming grin of his. “Much better.”

It pulls a grin of your own to your lips and you lean back, gently pushing at his shoulder. “Whatever. Bet it’s nothing compared to your kiss with Eddie.”

Steve flushes and laughs. He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little embarrassed and very pleased. “That’s different. He’s all bite and no bark, you know?”

You smile. “Yeah. It’s cute though. You two look good together.”

He falls quiet, glancing at you. Then, softly, “Bet I look better with you there too.”

You blink. Tilt your head a little. It takes you a long moment to process his words. But then your cheeks warm. “You sure you want me there?”

Steve nods and gently nudges you. “He wants you there too.”

You look down at your lap. “Even if…”

“Yeah.” His voice is steady, not a hint of doubt. “Even if.”

A smile creeps across your lips. “Alright.”

He grins again. “Alright. You ready to go back?”

You nod and he gets up. You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t let go, sliding his hand around yours as he leads you out of the van.

It feels like a promise, and you think you’ve finally found someone willing to keep it.

[beady-eyed-munson]

When eddie was little, wayne was the only one who could hold him without him crying or becoming restless.

Reaching out a grasping hand over his parents shoulder when theyd take him to leave.

When he learned how to walk, wayne used to have to stop and make him wait outside the bathroom because hed trail behind his legs like a shadow.

Wayne had to give him one of his flannels so he could sleep at night.

I think he knew... babies have a way of picking up on things like that..

Eddie was supposed to be his.

Eventually as life took hold, eddie saw wayne less and less.

He learned to exist by himself. not even really remembering wayne..but he always felt lost, til he was brought back to his door.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Heeeeyyyyyy

Can you do the most fluff test cotton candy cloud ever with your angel and devil au? Like just the soft and cuddly cute side of them with readers problems like if she has a hard time doing normal things?It’s so cool and awesome I’ve read so many of you amazing hc’s and other story’s from it I LOVE ITTT

A/N: i wasn’t really sure what you meant by “hard time doing normal things” since that could be so many different things, literally anything could fall into that category depending on what you deem as normal and or important enough for the struggles with it became a negative thing. but I tried to make it vague enough to fit whatever you were thinking about, so i hope this is okay. 

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist 

“I’m sorry,” you blew another long exhale out through your tense and quivering lips. 

Each of the creatures at your side still clutched your hands tightly in theirs, “don’t apologise, it’s okay,” Steve reassured you softly, his free hand extending to wipe away the tears still clinging to your cheek, “we’ll stay right here for as long as you need, no rush at all.”

Shifting in his seat beside you on the bench, sloping back against it just like the trees around you lightly danced on the wind, Eddie subtly attempted to distract you, “so, tell me about that dance movie with the chick from Ferris Bueller.” 

Turning your head to glance at him with furrowed brows, “you want me to talk about the movie we watched literally last night?”

“Correction, rewatched, for maybe the fiftieth time, and yes,” he raised your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle peck upon the knuckles, “I do wanna hear you talk about it. I never get sick of listening to you talk, no matter the subject,” genuineness shining through in his tone, “now, tell me about it.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[littlenerdybee]

Update no. 8

Hello friends, things got bad again. Last time I was hopeful and confident things would be right again soon but I was wrong.

I'm still homeless and now my cat is sick. I know it may seem stupid for some people, but she's my only support right now, she's everything I have and I'm not ready to lose her.

I don't have enough money to pay for her surgery and therapy so I'm asking for help again, please share this post if you can. The link to my Ko-fi is always in my bio if you can donate anything.

As always, thank you for all the love and support you've shown me this past month. I'm so grateful for everyone of you ❤️‍🩹

(Again, pardon me if I use the tags wrong I'm just trying to reach as many of you as possible).

[munsonshire]

Steddie Masterlist

Headcanons

Steve has issues

My world

Sex (not 18+)

Secret

Is Eddie in love?

Studying

Cooking

Steve tries to flirt with Eddie

History nerd Steve x mischievous eddie

Pet Names

Steddie x reader

Number 1

[abellmunsonmovie]

_________________₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Writings₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊_______________ Eddie Munson┊₊✩

"What a day..." EddiexReader (fluff) “Sweeter Than Whiskey” EddiexReader (fluff/comfort kinda) "Eating Me Away" EddiexReader (comfort, fluff, angst) "Say Yes to Me" EddiexReader (fluff) "I Wouldn't Ever Hurt You" Ghostface!EddiexReader (Angst/Fluff) "Always take care of you" Dadsfriend!Older!EddiexF!Reader (Angst/Comfort/Fluff) "Self Care" EddiexF!Reader (Fluff/Comfort) "Tears and Pancakes" EddiexReader (Comfort/Angst?/Fluff) "You'll always be my girl" EddiexF!Reader (Comfort/Fluff/Hurt) "Sweetheart" Older!Dad!EddiexReader (Fluff pure fluff)

Dean Winchester┊₊✩ coming soon...

ships┊₊✩ "Our piece of heaven" BuckinghamxReader (Pure fluff)

[moonstruckme]

Hey bestie! I hope your day is going great! If you're open to it could I get some comfort from Steddie? I hate storms, always have and I unfortunately live in the Midwest. We are under tornado watch right now and could use something else to focus on. I wanna live vicariously through my beautiful Indiana boyfriends 😩. If you're too busy I totally understand. Thank you!!!

~😈

Hope your day is going even better ml!

cw: reader get anxious during storms

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 717 words

You flinch when a piece of hail hits the window, and Steve tucks you closer against his side. 

Eddie shakes his head. He jiggles his keys as he stands from the couch. “I’ve gotta go get the van.” 

“No, no way,” Steve says, not for the first time tonight. “We’re all staying here.” 

“The closest tornado’s way off.” Eddie waves a hand, getting his boots from by the stairs and pulling them on. “I’m just gonna bring her here to take cover in your fancy garage so she doesn’t get fucked by the hail all night.” 

“So what, you think you’re gonna walk home and drive back?” Steve is incredulous. “Tornadoes can form anywhere, dipshit. On the road’s the worst place to be.” 

You tense as the winds pick up outside, and he tightens his grip on you as if he can contain your panic. You’re all holed up in Steve’s basement, the constant drone of the weather channel covering up the whine of tornado sirens outside. It’s probably overkill to have gotten out of bed to come down here this early—because Eddie’s right, the tornadoes are nowhere near you yet, you’ve only got the storm that the weatherman on channel 4 says comes before them—but there was no way you were going back to sleep after the sirens started anyway. Steve knows you feel safer down here, where the only windows are small and nearly at the ceiling, restricting your view of the outside to rain-pelted grass and occasional flashes of lighting. You get a bit freaked about this stuff. 

“Don’t go,” you say to Eddie, pleading. 

Eddie hesitates by the stairs, and Steve looks right at him as he says firmly, “He’s not.” 

The other boy heaves a great, dramatic sigh, kicking his boots off and tromping over to flop back down beside you. You’ve got your legs curled up underneath you, and Eddie lays his head on your thigh, looking up at you with his eyes extra big. 

“You’ll help me take care of the dents tomorrow, won’t you, hot stuff?” 

“Mhm.” You nod readily. Steve thinks you’d agree to anything right now if it’d keep him from going outside. 

He watches Eddie realize this, the other boy’s expression sobering slightly before he doubles down on the teasing. His eyes flick up to Steve. 

“Or I guess you could always pay to get any damage fixed, huh?” 

Steve scoffs, using his free hand to brush a curl away from Eddie’s eye. “Yeah, right.” 

“What? Is my old gal not in the budget?” 

“Your gal’s sitting right here.” 

Eddie’s gaze moves back to you, and Steve thinks he sees you going a bit shy as Eddie makes a show of taking you in. Good. You could use a distraction. 

“Nah,” he says after a minute, quiet in an intentional way that makes Steve grin and you squirm. “That there’s my girl. Don’t insult her like that, Harrington, I’m talking about my old gal.” 

You turn to hide your smile in Steve’s shoulder, and he and Eddie share a look. It’s knowing, contented, grateful on one end and shit-eating on the other, and because you can always tell when they’re conspiring without you you mumble a not-unhappy, “I’m too tired for flirting,” into Steve’s skin. 

“Liar,” Steve accuses fondly. You’re basically flirting with him right now, the way you’ve got your arm snaked around his middle, anxious fingers fiddling with the hem of his pajama bottoms. “Why don’t we just spend the night down here?”

“Ooh.” Eddie turns onto his side, getting comfier on your thigh. “I like it. Whaddya think, baby? We can put on a movie, and that way you can stay here and keep feeling Harrington up.” 

You sigh. “That’s not what’s happening.” 

“Sure.” Steve drops a kiss on your head, and when you try to let go of him he holds you close.

Eddie gives your thigh a conciliatory pat. “We’ve all been there.” 

“If we watch a movie,” you say, and Eddie grins at your obvious attempt to change the subject, “can it please be something not scary?” 

“Sure, honey.” Steve rubs your arm, shooting Eddie an apologetic look when the other boy pouts. “Your pick.” 

When the next strike of lightning flashes in the window, you don’t seem to notice. 

[munsonomenon]

⛧☾༺’Casual’༻☽⛧

Chapter 1v: All this time

⛧ pairing: steve harrington x alt! fem reader, rockstar! eddie x alt! fem reader

⛧ contains: angst, love triangle, fluff, comfort, fwb, alcohol, smoking, pining, implied friends to lovers, pet names, slow burn, asshole! eddie

⛧ word count: 2.9k+

⛧ previous chapter: here

⛧ warnings: allusion to smut ! mdni !

The contrast of the chilled breeze embracing your skin as you pull yourself through the door is a stubborn reminder of the cardigan you left resting on the couch back in the dressing room, but there was no way in hell you could bring yourself back into that room. You can’t stop hearing the unknowing roars of approval ringing in your ear. Feeling all of the nights spent with your fingernails digging in his back, wishing for once you could have more than just his skin as he strung you along.

Tasting the drop of blood pooling through your lip snaps you back, your jaw clenched tight enough to break the skin. Frustration boils over the edge causing a single wet drop to stream down your frigid skin. You’ve never felt quite this pitiful but it was nearly impossible not to with him making his intentions painfully obvious.

The rushed patter of footsteps on the pavement fills your ears and brings your attention behind you as you place a cigarette between your lips. Steve runs his fingers through his waves of hair scanning the parking lot, panting with his chest breathing heavily. His eyes wander finding yours and his expression of relief quickly droops to concern as he sees the wet black streak down your skin. He moves towards you cautiously, holding his hands out to cup your face as he studies your demeanor. His small gesture causes the floodgates you had put to a halt to come rushing back open, your cigarette falling to the ground with the twitching of your lips.

“Hey, hey- Slow down, you’re okay. What’s going on?” he whispers softly while he wipes your tears away. You’ve never explained the ends and outs of you and Eddie to anyone outside of Robin. The part of you afraid to admit to being his secret can’t bear to spill your embarrassment to him. Especially with the stubborn reminders of his voice reverberating through the walls.

“Did somebody do this to you?” his voice twists, eyes squint over the few people grouped in the surrounding area protectively, his hands on your cheeks keeping their tender hold. “No, it’s nothing I- mean, it wasn’t them.” you mumble wishing you could just tell him the truth. I think I- I just got too drunk.” You sniffle through your words slightly shivering.

“Well, clearly somethings up. Here-.” he cuts off his words by removing his signature gray members-only jacket, resting it around your shoulders. “You’re freezing!” he exclaims. “Steve, no-“ you protest forcing his coat away. “You’re gonna be cold now.” you whimper.

“Shh, I’m fine. We can go sit in my car, I’ll turn the heat on.” he moves to fully throw his jacket over you, completely engulfing you in the fabric. as he walks you to the passenger side of his car you can’t tell if the pink flush you see from the corner of your eye is brought on by the cold air or if his arm pressed against you to hold his jacket closer to your body.

Awkward silence flows through the air of Steve’s car as your head pounds from your racing thoughts in your drunken state. You felt guilty for feeling comfort in his presence, the strings of you still tied to Eddie telling you this was wrong. Steve’s infectious smile as he makes his way to the seat opposite of you takes away some of that doubt.

“We don’t have to talk about what happened earlier if you don’t want to.” he whispers starting up his car to crank the heat on. You shoot him a shy smile “I can tell you about this freaky ass movie Robin made me sit through the other night.” he chuckles and you can feel your heart swell. “I’d like that.” you say with your voice low. He scoots up in his seat and starts motioning with his hands as he explains the film’s plot.

“So, there’s these oddly large fucked up looking clowns with these guns that shoot out popcorn and shit like that.” he turns to you emphasizing how important this is to him when he sees your lost but curious smile. “Which might seem like a good time and all, except they’re like insane, evil, killer clowns that turn their victims into giant mounds of cotton candy or these fucking pies they have made out of acid they use to melt cops!.” he exclaims dramatically.

“Are you sure this is a movie you’ve seen and not some elaborate night terror you had after smoking too much before bed?” you shake your head skeptically. “I’m serious!” his eyes grow wide with his giggles. His elbow rests on the center console so he can have a better view of you.“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Harrington.” you reach in to playfully pinch the skin of his cheek making his head fall towards the floor, covering his flushed grin you wished he wouldn’t hide.

Lost in the scattered conversations neither of you realizes the time until you see the masses of fans piling through the small doors. “Shit uh- guess we should get going too then.” Steve says slowly like he’s disappointed in tonight ending here. You’re glad to know you aren’t alone in that. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame in the warm glow that he has lit up around you. You’ve never spent much time alone with him before, in this moment you can’t comprehend all you’ve deprived yourself of. Checking the rearview mirror you toss your head back “Fuck, I am still way too drunk to go home right now.” you admit as you’re brought back down to the harsh reality that put you here to begin with. His face twists thinking hard about his words before he speaks them.

“Why don’t you just come back to my place?” his chest swells with hope, “I mean you’d be coming over with Robin tomorrow to help set up anyway?”. It was hard to ignore the rush of pounding in your chest. “My house is the complete other direction from yours. I can just order a taxi or something.” you say trying not to inconvenience him. “Not happening, it’s way too cold for me just to ditch you here.” he grabs your face, pulling you to look in his direction. “Just come home with me, please?” begging softly, warmth radiating off his skin just inches from yours. “Fine, but just for tonight. ” you tease him, thinking back on how Robin had this whole thing right all along. The gleam in his puppy eyes blew his cover. “take a picture it’ll last longer!” you mock his prolonged glance, pushing his shoulder gently breaking your closeness. His expression remains the same. “Don’t worry, this is plenty.” he nearly drools.

“Can I ask you something? It’s really stupid?” you mutter through your hands covering your face as you rub your eyes. “Of course.” he mutters faintly. “Anything.” he pushes. You let out a deep breath mixed with a small laugh. “Could you uhm- maybe, grab my cig I dropped out in the parking lot earlier?” feeling slightly embarrassed by your desperation. “It’s the last in my pack and I really need it right now.” the passing cars lit up his face just enough for you to see his smirk. “I’m on it.” he says turning to open his door. “I’ll be right back, then we can get the hell out of here.” he states playfully as he leans down into the car once more before shutting his door.

You peer at his reflection in the mirrors as you watch him hunched over with his arm out searching the black pavement like a metal detector before he reaches down to find his treasure. He turns back to the car holding the found cigarette up like a trophy pumping his fists before performing a goofy victory dance in the empty street. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t admire his cockiness knowing your eyes would follow his every move. You laugh at him quietly from afar before seeing him turn around to the door opening ahead of him.

You tilt the mirror back to get a clear view of the figure. Eddie is standing in front of the last person he wants to see right now and it’s obvious from the sour expression on his face. You see his lips move, unable to hear his words as he motions in your direction. You grasp the door handle to pull it open, stepping into the chilling air. Your hand is perched on the car door as you prop yourself up to watch the scene unfolding before you.

“Is she seriously leaving? You can’t just let her leave like that- I mean she’s had way too fucking much to drink!” Eddie spits loudly at Steve, his voice laced with rage. You keep your distance, you are nowhere near the right headspace to talk to Eddie right now. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I got it, man. I’m taking her home.” Steve replies calmly but is clearly bothered by the encounter keeping him from returning to you.

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms unable to believe you’d blow him off tonight for someone like him. “And how sure are you of that?” Eddie questions him bitterly. “I mean, they were her words. Not mine.” Steve motions back to you standing a few spaces back. “Didn’t take much convincing.” his tongue rolls off his teeth with a vindictive smirk. “What the fuck ever dude. Here, she left it in my dressing room.” He hurls a thick ball of fabric at Steve’s chest that you can only assume is your cardigan from earlier. Eddie stops in his place searching for your eyes from across the parking lot, sending you a frail shrug of disappointment before turning on his heel to walk back into the bar, carelessly slamming the door behind him.

Water pools in your eyes as you tilt your head to the sky, exhaling deeply. An unwanted wave of guilt washes over you once more. It’s not like you’d be any better off if you ran back to his familiar comfort now anyway. You always told yourself that you could ‘stop’. Stop the tugging you felt in your chest that pulled you to him with every glance. You wished more than anything that you were someone else at that moment until you feel two arms hover over you before resting on your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace you’ve never yet felt. “Don’t you worry about any of that, alright? he says muffled into your hair. “Let’s get you out of here.” you smile into his neck in agreement. His large hands caress the side of your neck, squeezing you tighter.

He holds your door open as you slide back down to your seat, closing the door softly with both hands. Rubbing his hands together fighting off the cold weather as he maneuvers his way to the driver’s side. You’re hooked on his every manerism watching his arms flex as he jiggles his key in the ignition. His eyes quickly flick up to you. “Ah, almost forgot! The fruits of my labor.” he flicks the cigarette out of the pocket of his vintage shirt pocket presenting it to you. Your heart flutters reaching out to grab it. “Robin’s right. Dingus suits you.” giggles escape your mouth. “Great now you’re in on it too.” he rolls his eyes. “At least it sounds cute coming from your mouth.” he whispers, leaving you unsure of if you were even meant to hear him. His hand wraps around your knee in a swift motion as he turns his body to check behind him before reversing out of the lot.

The moment Steve’s tires hit the pavement you feel a vibration through the floorboards peeking down to see a vibrant glow from your bag. You ruffle through flipping the screen over exposing the depiction of Eddies ring-scattered fingers squeezing your ass cheek that he had sneakily set as his contact image in your phone earlier. Your eyes forcibly squint closed praying Steve didn’t happen to lower his eyes to the display. Nervously you tap the screen declining his call. “Everything okay over there?” Steve chuckles at your frantic movements. “Yeah, just uhm- looking for my lighter” which wasn’t completely a lie.

The sparkling flickers from your lighter catch his eyes as an orange haze fills the enclosed space. His fingers immediately flick over the button to his side lightly cracking your window. “What a gentleman.” you say through pursed lips as you blow out your first drag. “Let me get a hit.” tilting his head out toward you before facing the road again. You can’t help but laugh at his confidence gasping dramatically. “Going out to a metal show and now smoking? These things aren’t good for you, you know?”. you act appalled. “Yeah, and neither is me watching how pretty you look smoking them.” he says matter-of-factly. “and with the amount of effort I went through to retrieve that fucking thing, I think I’ve earned it.”.

Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head with his words, You’ve never heard him speak like this before and his boldness leaves you reeling for more. Your fingers reach to push his loose strands of hair behind his ear as he keeps his eyes ahead. “Fine, but if you vomit at least turn the other way.” holding the lit cigarette up to his plush lips with your index and pointer fingers. His head makes a quick maneuver before wrapping his lips around the end, lightly kissing the skin on your knuckles before a harsh cough rings through the air. His face wrinkled in disgust as he waves his hand back and forth over his face to clear the smoke.

“Jesus Christ!” he loudly exclaims still halfway choking in the fog. “I can’t believe you sent me off all alone, into the cold night for that shit.” forcing out a laugh as he wipes tears out of his eyes, causing you to erupt in laughter at the sight making him smile like an idiot. Ashing your cigarette through the cracked window you tell him you’re surprised he handled it as well as he did, which he credits to the lone cigarette he stole from his mom’s purse in the eighth grade preparing him for this very moment.

You know, I feel pretty stupid about it now but uh-“ Steve breaks the silence with a chuckle full of nerves. “I never really tried to talk to you much because I figured Robin had filled your head up with ideas about me.” feeling the sincerity in his words fueling the rapid thumping in your chest. “Quite the opposite actually, she spent years trying to convince me to put up with you.” you admit. “Fuck off.” he scoffs at your response like you’re playing some cruel joke on him. It’s not a wild assumption to make. Robin would spend hours talking your ear off about every single detail of what’s happening around her since the last time she’s seen you so he knew a few rough stories had to have slipped through the cracks.

“I mean it! You used to be a real shithead, you know. I guess I just never fully adjusted to the fact that you had changed until now…” you say sheepishly. The last two words played over in his head on repeat, fueling his ego. “Until now? So you’re like totally into me, right?” he mocks in his best trying-to-be serious voice. “In your dreams, Harrington.” you reply slyly but to him, he feels like he’s already in one. He can’t fathom the idea of someone not wanting to attach themselves to you.

His hair bouncing off of the side of his neck to the beat of the tune he’s tapping out on the steering wheel has you stuck in a trance, his perfectly carved jaw bone mixed with your buzz filling your brain with filthy ideas. Your thoughts are cut short by the rhythmic ticking signaling you are turning down his street. Steve lives in a remarkably nice house for his age. He landed some cushy work-from-home position at some local finance startup that just so happened to take off, earning him a decently sized salary which you only know about because of Robin’s gossip.

The end of Steve’s driveway brings you a sense of restlessness anticipating his next move as the space grows dark after the rays from the headlights die down. His veiny hands reach for the door handle swinging it open before his slender legs branch out. He quickens his pace in a light jog making his way to you before you get the chance to let yourself out. “Slow down there sweetheart, what kind of gentleman would I be if I left you to open your own door?” he coos, as if you are the most fragile thing on earth before extending his hand out for you to grab onto.

His arm immediately moves to rest over the dip in your back once you’re standing, sending shocks over your skin and you are utterly content with just staying like this the rest of the night. He motions out widely with both of his arms with his waist still pressed snuggly against yours, displaying the surroundings to you. “Welcome home.” he grins sliding his key in the door.

༺ the end.

chapter v: ‘like nothing matters’

coming: soon!

[theendless22]

Hey guys! Please answer the poll, it would help a lot for making my fanfics!! (New fics coming very very soon)🩷

[beady-eyed-munson]

Eddie being soothed to sleep by wayne's accent

[uwingdispatch]

Steady Me

Steady Me

Notes: Brasso/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

**CW: **chronic pain, hospital scene, depression/mental health struggles, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

Maybe it’s the days and days of rain but when you got out of bed today, you felt a heaviness in your heart that, even into the afternoon, you couldn’t seem to shake. Still, you made yourself get dressed and went into town to run errands during a break in the weather, hoping that getting out of the house for a bit would help you shake this feeling. With Brasso off-planet for the past week helping an old friend get resettled back on Ferrix, you knew you’d just been spending too much time in your own head. Vetch had come by a few times, probably because Brasso had asked him, knowing your tendency to isolate when you weren’t well.  

Perhaps some of the fog was coming from guilt, as you’d originally planned to join Brasso on this trip—but you’d had a debilitating migraine on the day you were meant to travel and sent him without you. He’d made some effort to insist on staying home, but you both knew that Ferrix and your friends needed the extra hands. And now he was late getting back after a storm that delayed all flights off of Ferrix for a day and a half.

You’re barely holding it together when you get a ping on your comm, and you feel like the dam you’ve put up inside yourself is about to break.

“I just got home and you’re not here,” Brasso says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You sigh. His voice has always been a balm on your hardest days. “I’m on my way back from the market,” you tell him.

“You don’t sound okay. Let me come get you.”

“You just got home. You must be tired.”

“I am. But I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, but I can. And so I’m going to, if that’s all right.”

You give him the cross streets you’re at and sit on a conveniently located park bench. Winter has taken its toll on the local wildlife, but it’s been warmer lately. Birds are whistling in the trees and you think to yourself that it’s been a while since you heard those whistles. And then you wonder if you’ve just been so depressed that you’d stopped noticing the birds altogether.

Brasso arrives on his speeder bike—a recent purchase. You’d encouraged him to indulge himself a little after last quarter went extraordinarily well at his shop. And you remembered the old days, riding on the back of Brasso’s speeder back on Ferrix, before the war. The first time you’d gotten on the new bike with him, all of those wonderful memories stirred in you. And you’re glad to see him with it today. He gets off the bike and immediately pulls you into his arms, kisses your hair.

“Are you hurt, love?”

“No,” you say. “Just exhausted. Existentially.”

“I know you’ve been struggling. Let me get you home and make you some tea, yeah?”

Brasso secures your bags before the both of you climb onto the speeder, and as he drives you home, your arms wrapped around his middle, a sense of safety begins to return to your body.

When you get home, two plump tooka-cats greeting you at the door, Brasso insists on putting the shopping away. In recent months, even things that had been easy for you had become overwhelming. You sit on the sofa trying to take steady breaths, but you’re just so frustrated with yourself, with your inability to keep up with what should be “normal.”

Brasso puts the kettle on and comes to sit with you, immediately pulling you close, the scent of him warm and comforting as you rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say.

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe the depression is a bit worse than usual but you don’t have to tough this out alone. You know that.”

“I hate putting my shit on you.”

“You’ve always held me up when I needed holding. And I’m always going to hold you up if you let me.”

“I know.”

Brasso strokes your arm, a sweet, grounding touch. “You’ve been working so hard these last few weeks. Maybe it’s time for a break,” he says. “Can you turn off holonet orders? Take some time off?”

“I’m already taking this weekend off from the market,” you say. “I don’t know if I can afford to do that”

“I know you don’t like to talk about money, but you also don’t need to worry about it right now. We have what we need. We have more than what we need, love. You can afford to take a break.”

You let out a long breath. You know he’s right. And you love him for that. But it still hits sour in your gut. “The way I grew up, the way my family always talked about this kind of thing…I don’t feel good about putting the burden on you. I feel like I need to—”

Brasso interrupts you, tips your chin so you can see his eyes. “Do you remember what I said, just after we were married? When you were in the med center for a week and you were panicking about whether you’d be able to take on as much as you were used to?”

You remember. How he’d squeezed in next to you on that uncomfortable med center cot. And he’d held you until your panic dissipated, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that everything would be okay. And when you finally were able to put words to what you were feeling, how worried you were about your ability to contribute, he’d promised that no matter how much you were able to or even wanted to work he would support you.

“I just want you to be happy,” he’d said that day. “And I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to worry about credits. We’ll figure it out together.”

Today you lean into his touch as he wraps an arm around you. “I remember,” you say. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just…”

“I know, love,” he says. “But please know that I meant it then. And I mean if now.”

The kettle goes off. Brasso kisses your forehead before getting up to make tea. And you watch him, his towering figure, his thick arms, as he walks to your kitchen. You think about all the work he did on your home when you bought this house together to make it perfect for both of you. He and Vetch had knocked out a wall to create a more open space, and from where you’re sitting now you can see him sorting through the cupboard, no doubt looking for the tea he always makes on rough days—a blend similar to one you used to drink together on Ferrix, back before he left.

Returning to the sofa, he hands you your tea and says, “When I got here, I had very little other than the clothes on my back. You let me live in your house, made sure I ate well, helped me find work. We had no idea where this was going, but you took care of me.”

“Of course I did,” you say. “Brasso, you’re my person. I love you. What else would you have expected me to do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, love. You’re my person. And the way I love you, I will always find a way to take care of you. To take care of us. You just being here is enough.”

There are tears in your eyes when you pull him toward you to kiss him. And he leans into your touch as you caress his face, the short scruff of his beard familiar in your hands, your fingers soon threading through his thick, dark hair.

Before you met Brasso you constantly worried you couldn’t possibly be enough for anyone. Or even, perhaps that you were too much. With all of the baggage you brought with you to any relationship, the way your brain worked, the physical disabilities that kept you from doing even simple tasks sometimes—it was hard to imagine there was a person who would tolerate this much in a partner. And then Brasso came along. And while it took a while for you to see it, he loved you in a way no one ever had. In a way you’d always wanted to be loved. And as the sun sets and he kisses your tears away, your tea growing cold on the table, you remind yourself that he’s never shied away from loving you.

*

It was raining the day you moved into your new house. And it had grown dark since the last box had come inside from the moving truck. Brasso was in the garage with Vetch figuring out a plan for tomorrow, when he’d be back to help you unpack and set up in your larger space. With Brasso, the two of you could probably handle the move yourselves, but that’s not how your community worked. Maybe it was the Ferrixian in you, maybe it was just having survived the upheaval and struggle of a years-long war. But, with the people you held dearest, nobody had to do anything alone.

You were tired, but you’d gotten out the fresh linens you and Brasso had chosen just before the move. Curtains could wait until tomorrow, but for now you got to work on the bed, laying out the clean sheets and the soft duvet. You’d never thought you’d have a house like this—one with a big enough office that you could actually call it a studio. A garage large enough for Brasso to have space for his projects. He’d already laid out a few plans for the next few weeks—you both wanted to take out a wall and open up the space between the living room and kitchen. He especially wanted to build you floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for the paper volumes that had come back into fashion on Gatalenta—and which you’d collected rather quickly. The kitchen cupboards needed redoing and there were some plumbing issues in the guest refresher. But for now—this was yours. Yours and Brasso’s. And as overwhelmed as you were at the prospect of unpacking, of all the work that was to come, you were a happy kind of exhausted when Brasso came into the bedroom and wrapped his big arms around your waist.

“Slow down, darling,” he said.

“I just wanted to get things set up,” you said as he tenderly kissed your neck. “Before we sat down and didn’t want to get back up again.”

“I could have done that,” he said. “But it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s ours.”

You turned around and Brasso smiled. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek—you brushed it away with your thumb and he tipped your chin toward him, placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let me finish in here,” he said. “Vetch helped me get most of the big stuff settled in the living room before he left, and I ordered dumplings. Go rest.”

“He didn’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Apparently he has a date.”

“Good for him,” you said.

You had to admit the ache in your body as you headed out to your new living room, the furniture mostly where it was supposed to be, several boxes left to be unpacked tomorrow. Your two tooka-cats had snuggled up in their favorite chair, exhausted after spending most of the day exploring their new space. There was a bit of a draft, and you made a mental note to check that out tomorrow as you grabbed a knit blanket and laid down on the couch, just to rest your eyes. But you were half-asleep when you heard a knock at the door, Brasso stumbling around boxes as he rushed to retrieve the delivery.

The aroma of your favorite meal never failed to bring you back to the moment, to the beautiful man in front of you somehow holding plates and silverware along with the takeout. “You sure you don’t need some help?”

“I’ve got this.” Brasso said, setting everything on the living room table. “The usual place was closed but I’ve heard good things about this one. You can’t really mess up dumplings, can you?”

You thought back to the first date that never was, back on Ferrix, Brasso in that nice sweater, the little restaurant just outside of town, your absolute inability to see that he’d wanted more than friendship when he’d invited you out that night. And the dumplings.

“I thought this would be nice on our first night in the new house,” he said, sitting next to you. “I’d wanted to actually cook for you myself, but—”

“Are you serious, Brasso?” you said, almost laughing. “We moved today. You were going to cook, too?”

“I thought about it.” he said with a shrug.

And then he kissed you, and you could feel the smile on his lips as you leaned into the kiss, reaching for a moment to touch his face. This was a kiss you could live in forever, and you suspected he felt the same as he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you toward him.

There was a clatter as an empty dish fell off the table. In the corner of your eye: a tooka-cat racing out of the room before he could get in trouble. Brasso filled a glass with a fizzy beverage that the two of you often indulged in on special occasions. And as he kissed you once more he said, “I can’t wait for everything that lies ahead of us, love.”

“Everything?”

“Absolutely everything.”

*

The rain has started coming down again when, after tying up any loose ends to close your holonet shop for the weekend, you look up from your datapad. A part of you feels this weather heavy in your chest—a weight that can’t be lifted. But Brasso is in the kitchen chopping vegetables and you think about the ways in which he has provided for you. When he first came back after the war, he’d always wanted to do the cooking. Each meal was so lovingly prepared—he’d remembered, after all those years, exactly what you’d liked when you were both younger. And he was always eager to try the new foods you’d found and loved since. Whenever you told him he didn’t have to do this, he’d just insisted that until he had steady work he wanted to do this one thing for you.

But it was never one thing. He’d been on Gatalenta for just a week when he started fixing things around the house—things you’d known needed taking care of but that you hadn’t gotten around to.. You’d come home from the market one day and he was putting a base coat of paint on the walls of your refresher.

“I know you’re still thinking about what you’d like in here,” he’d said. “But I thought I could at least prime it today and you can let me know what you want me to do for the color.”

There were samples in the kitchen for you to look at, in the shades you’d mentioned the night before in bed, when you’d thought he was half asleep. But Brasso was always listening, always seemed to know what you wanted. What you needed.

Today, as you watch him from the sofa, you think of all those cold Ferrix nights you spent together. How, over a short text exchange at lunch time, he’d intuit that you were experiencing the kind of anxiety that sent you spiraling and somehow by dinner you’d agreed to have him over for a holofilm night. You’d hear his speederbike outside and immediately feel safer, knowing that for the rest of the night nothing bad could possibly happen. And when it was so late that both of you could barely keep your eyes open, he’d tell you he was too tired and it was too cold to ride home and ask if he could stay on your couch. Later he would confess that he’d worried about you, that he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t wake in the night panicking and alone.

That had always been enough for you. Just him being there. And you tell him this often, but you’re never sure if he quite believes you.

You put your datapad on the living room table and make your way to the kitchen where Brasso is rinsing his dishes, the aroma of one of your favorite comfort meals coming from the oven.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. He dries  his hands, places the towel on the counter before pulling you into his embrace.

“Better,” you say. “I think.” You pause. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you this week.”

“You’re allowed to have a life, Brasso.” You say. “It’s just…a fog I’m in. And I can’t quite reach past it.”

“I don’t really know what that’s like,” he says. “But unless there’s an emergency at the shop, I’m home all weekend. I’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I kind of do. Unless you want some space, of course. But I know you don’t like to call anyone else when you feel like this and I’d rather you didn’t have to be alone.”

“You know,” you say, your head resting on the firm muscle of Brasso’s chest, his heart beating in your ear, “It still baffles me how quickly I felt like you were the one person I could always call. And you’ve always been so generous with your time. Not just with me, but with everyone.”

Brasso kisses your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “I never saw any reason not to be,” he says. “And I never minded. Especially with you. I always knew that if I showed up on your doorstep, you wouldn’t turn me away. Even if you knew that I wasn’t really coming by just to check on you.”

There were nights when you’d hear the buzzer for your door in the evening, after dark, and you immediately knew it was Brasso. Nobody else visited that late unannounced—and there was no one else you’d tolerate this with. But it was Brasso, and so you always let him in. And sometimes he’d say hadn’t seen you at the cafe recently and thought he should come see if you needed anything and you’d invite him in and you’d end up just talking for hours over a late meal. And sometimes he’d show up and you could see in his eyes that something was wrong and you’d let him pretend he’d come by because he was worried about you and not because someone he cared about had gone missing and he didn’t want to be by himself.

“I’m always glad to see you,” you tell him. “Always have been.”

“I know.”

Brasso tips your chin toward him and presses a slow kiss to your lips. You feel like you’re melting at his touch, the layer of fog you’ve been trying to break through perhaps clearing a bit as you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over his angular jaw, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ear so you can better see the smile in his eyes.

“Sometimes I think about the day we moved into this house,” he says. “How it felt like this was always where we were supposed to be. Even though I would have liked for us to start our life together sooner. What we have is just so perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect, Brasso. I think I snapped at you last week for putting cheese in the wrong drawer in the fridge.”

“And the guest refresher sink is leaking again. I probably need to take the whole thing out and get new parts.. I know. It’s not that kind of perfect. But it’s perfect nonetheless.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I missed you this week,” you tell him. “I’m so glad you got to help out on Ferrix for a bit. But stars, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love,” he says. “Any time I leave I’m grateful that I get to come home to you.”

It’s easy to forget everything dark inside you as he drags his thumb slowly over your bottom lip. As his hand slips under your shirt to caress your back. And when he presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours, there is nothing in your world but him.

“Would it help if I ran you a hot bath?” he asks, bending to kiss your ear. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while. We can take some time to wash away all the difficult things.”

“That sounds nice,” you say.

A shiver runs through your body as Brasso presses a soft kiss to your lips, his gentle hand at your cheek. When he heads down the hall to the refresher, the weight of the galaxy around you is lighter.

“Are you coming, love?” he calls.

And you laugh to yourself as you follow him, remembering that he’d remodeled your refresher just for times like this, for hot baths on days you needed them most. For enjoying those hot baths together. You can already smell the healing salts and sweet soaps he’s chosen for you—all your favorites.

“There you are,” he says.

Gently, he undresses you, and you think that perhaps his touch alone could heal every ache in your body, every anxiety, every dark thought. And as often as he tells you he’s lucky to have you, you feel like you must be the lucky one, to have a man who always seems to find you even when you’ve retreated into yourself. So tonight, in his strong arms, in the comfort of this perfect bath, you believe him when he kisses your shoulder and tells you everything is going to be all right.

★★★★★★★★

It took me way longer to finish this than I’d expected, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Good morning! I hope you’re doing well today 🖤💜

It’s been a really crappy day. If I could, I’d like to request a little hurt/comfort from Angel Steve and Devil Eddie.

I was thinking something like Reader’s dad gets some bad news from his doctor, and Reader doesn’t take it well but keeps it together until they get home. Steve and Eddie are hurt by it too since they basically know your parents even though they’ve never interacted. They gently pick Reader up, carry them to the bedroom, where they help you change as best they can into comfortable pajamas.

Then the three of them curl up together in bed with Reader in the middle. Steve and Eddie bring out their tent Ickes then, but this time they intertwine with each other and wrap the three of you in a snug cocoon, where you all hold each other and take turns sniffling (yes, even Eddie, though he claims a piece of Steve’s hair got in his eye).

Thank you for reading and considering my request! 🖤💜

a/n: I've wanted to write this request since it first came to me back in april...

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist 

Tender tears rolled down your cheeks every time you blinked up at the lattice-like cocoon the entities at your side had weaved around you with their juxtaposing tendrils. Feeling a gentle touch wipe a few sombre beads away, it seemed like an impossible task to look back into Steve’s eyes as he uttered, “hey, it’s all gonna be okay.”

Nestled in on your other side, tightly clasping your trembling palm, you heard the familiar demonic voice pipe up, “you don’t know that…”

“Eddie!” Steve’s head elevated briefly to cast a piercing glare at the creature over your shoulder, “read the fucking room!” settling back down, he cupped your face in each of his cautious hands, “sweetheart, you’re-…” he let out an agonising sigh, “I’m so sorry…”

Sensing a thumb swipe over your palm, Eddie’s forlorn timbre soon found your ears once more as he thought out loud, “objectively speaking I can make incredible things come to fruition, we both can, but I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this before, so useless, so powerless…”

Limp fingers slowly curling around his grasp in a wobbly hold, you finally whispered hoarsely, “you’re already doing enough just by being here.” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

[hushedlover]

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