#the next morning he was like

[livwritesstuff]

Not a steddie!dads post believe it or not, but I was thinking about how S1-Steve conks the fuck out after sleeping w/Nancy (which was.......an interesting choice imo) but it got me thinking about what would happen if the same thing happened with Eddie.

Like, all the Upside Down shit is done and they're all healed up and, after pining for each other for ages, Steve and Eddie finally hook up.

It definitely wasn't a gooey, sappy, romantic love confession type of situation, more like the natural culmination of several agonizing months of sexual tension and trying to feel out what the other might be thinking and a pretty aggressive campaign of flirting on Eddie's part that he's certain Steve was matching him on toe-to-toe for at least most of and being badgered by their friends to pull their respective heads out of their respective asses — a glorified hook-up, really.

Yeah, there might have been an undercurrent of more in the way Steve had threaded their fingers together and the way he'd looked at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his and the way he'd kissed him like it fucking meant something, but there hadn't been a lot of words.

Eddie's a words kind of guy, believe it or not, and he'd really like to be looped into whatever the hell is going on inside Steve's perplexing brain, thanks, but no.

Instead, afterwards Steve had pulled Eddie into his arms, twined them tight around his waist and tangled their legs together and tucked his face into the curve of Eddie's shoulder, and that was...new, but in a matter of minutes he'd started softly snoring, and that — dozing off after a hook-up so the other can make a discreet exit — is a move Eddie knows intimately, not that knowing it makes it sting any less, because Eddie had thought Steve might be more, that this thing roiling beneath the surface of their friendship could be more than just a one-time thing.

It's actually kind of fucking horseshit, actually, that Steve is expecting Eddie to just leave like this had been nothing more than a chance to get laid, because Eddie knows it's more than that — not because he has good self-esteem or whatever, but because it's so obviously more than that.

The whole thing actually kind of bothers Eddie, and he's always been a petulant shit about things that bother him and he'd never cared too much about doing what he's "supposed to", or whatever, so...fuck it. He's tired and this rich-people mattress is way more comfortable than anything Eddie had slept on before, and Steve needs to grow a pair and face the music of this shit in the morning.

So instead of sliding out of Steve's grip like everyone who came before him, Eddie settles in and forces himself to fall asleep too.

[bluerosefox]

Fenton Coded

Tim... Tim just stared.

He...

Huh.

He had once entertained the idea that he wasn't really a Drake, a very long time ago when he overheard his mom and dad arguing and some words were said in the heat of the moment, but to be honest Tim always thought the obvious culprit of anyone being his dad would most likely be Bruce (Bruce even admitted he had a small fling with his mother but that was two years before her marriage)

But before little Tim's curiosity could really take hold on the idea, he had saw on the news Robin performing a Grayson flip and the hint of Tim not being a Drake left his mind. Robin was Dick Grayson! And if he was Robin that had to mean Bruce Wayne was Batman!

Then well... his stalking of the Bats started and the rest became history.

But now, as Tim was staring at his own DNA test, something he never bothered to do until that damned Demon brat wanted to make sure he was ONLY blood son of Bruce (and doing a DNA test something even Bruce never thought of doing due to well… how he was towards Tim during his first months as Robin)

He well…

He kinda needs to find out who this Daniel Jackson Fenton is.

(Tim finds out he isn’t a Drake, but also not a Wayne (because Damian wanted to make sure he was only blood son) but is instead a Fenton)

[wasyago]

im just gonna uhmmmm leave this here

[cozylittleartblog]

had a(nother) nightmare

[the-golden-weapons]

I’d like to think Jay and Nya are very funny because they are both mechanics, but in entirely opposite ways:

Nya has all her tools in proper order. In her workshop, there is never any scrap part going unused. Any notes and blueprints since the ripe age of 12 have been carefully stored and saved, no matter how much she cringes when looking back on them. The Samurai X designs and revisions have their own file cabinet as well as digital backups. Her measurements are double and triple checked, even though she probably had it right the first time. Every choice she makes is calculated and buffed out, from the interlocking gears to the paint job. She prides on her work on being practical and aesthetic, thank you very much.

Jay, meanwhile, is the definition of fuck around and find out. Blueprints? Who needs em, anyways? The only thing vaguely resembling “notes” in his work area are scrap pieces of paper with the most round-about mathematics ever (complete with indecipherable short-hand and a stick figure drawing of Jay holding a blowtorch, naturally.) He will change up plans on the fly and casually stick his hands in very sharp moving parts like there is no tomorrow. Safety equipment? He grew up in a junkyard. He had a wrench in his hand before he could walk. Yeah, no, he’s pretty sure he’s fine, thanks.

[blithesharem]

Drunk Levi getting needy and grinding against you in the dark hallway of the club you all dragged him to.

Pouting and whining until you promise to take him home early and take good care of him.

Practically crawling into your lap on the ride home because he can’t get close enough, everything outside is too loud and fast and he just wants to be pressed into your neck breathing in your scent.

Pulling at your clothes and nipping at your lips, mewling that he’s too hot and he needs you to help him, please, he’s just a gross pervert, can you please help him out? He’ll do anything so long as you touch him again.

[bizarrelovesquare]

Avatar: The Last Airbender

s3 ep 09, Nightmares and Daydreams

[tunamayojazz]

saw that fav ship trope: chronic sleeper x chronic insomniac tweet and guess what! it's them

[yeyinde]

“When your need grows teeth” is so good I literally bite the pillow like a dog while reading it!!! I need to know more about Ghost and the ‘unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog’.!!!!!

haha i really didn't think people would pay much attention to it, tbh! i like adding little things like this into the stuff i write. a little story within a story, i guess. but i would love to flesh it out, since where it was this undertone of "oh, you..." (sort of cheeky, kinda sly when you looked at the bigger picture) with Price, it would more-so be, "oh, no..." with Ghost.

Price's original convo with Ghost would have been acknowledged as gospel and adopted into Ghost's own scripture for the longest time (since it's my weird little hc that Ghost uses Price as a yardstick for normalcy—or, almost like a needle in his morality compass), and then seeing Price give into those needs was sort of like this big moment that caused that compass to go haywire.

essentially, if Price is a starving dog, then Ghost is one on the verge of death, willing to sink his teeth into anything just to survive. and that's sort of the crux of it. in my head, Ghost would have been unleashed by this, but what took the muzzle off is his own MC, who thinks they're taking in this sick, old dog from off the streets, and helping it as much as they can, only to wake up and realise this dog is rabid. and it already bit them. but what really caused this poor person such misfortune was that little tossed in line by Price when he's volleying with Laswell about his status. Or damn near close to it. and that's what sealed their fate lmao. the implication that this baby is somehow more permanent than a ring.

idk! i like the idea of someone sweet, if a little naïve, being bit by him, a man who wakes up most days thinking he's still buried in a grave. or what happens when a living corpse feels heat for the first time in ages after being given a bed and a warm body with a soft touch. quite catastrophic, imo.

[waveoftheocean]

the csm brainrot is too real sjsihefji

[mysicklove]

“you are so quirky it’s so cute” you want my dick so bad just admit it

[powerfultenderness]

hey I reread some neighbor könig because it's so so so good and I finally had an idea!! no worries if it's not your jam or if you have other writing to do or you're not feeling the writing spirit or literally anything else, I'll be just fine!! anyways anyways the idea is that reader comes home late one night wasted and könig takes care of her. and perhaps if you're so inclined she keeps asking him for saucy stuff and I mean he's not a creeper so of course he's not gonna do that stuff while she's drunk!! but he sure does want to. again again I love anything you write and I will drink any scraps of könig/any others up!! may the gods of writer's spirit bless you🙏🙏🙏

Yes! Gentleman König is an hc no one can take from me! This turned out a little softer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

(Rated Mature 18+ for some suggestive conversation and drinking)

König’s body jolted, the sound of his phone waking him from the pleasant haze of dreams, and slapped a heavy hand around his nightstand. 

“This better be good,” he growled into the phone, not having even bothered to check who called.  

“Kö” hiccup, “nig?” 

He shot up, already jumping out of bed and rushing around the room to pull on a pair of shorts and a shirt. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

He had run into you earlier in the night, dressed so prettily and smiling as you told him you were going out with friends. He knew he should have followed you. But he took one look at you in that revealing dress and all common sense left his brain.  

His stomach sank, nervous adrenaline rushing through his veins, as you sobbed out a weak, “help.” 

He quickly stuffed his feet in his shoes as hastily threw his hood on as he spoke to you and rushed out of his flat. “Where are you?” He could get the details later, find out who he had to kill later, after he made sure you were-

He froze, only for half a second, as he found you slumped on the floor outside of your door. He hung up and slid his phone in his pocket as he rushed over to you with a shout of your name.

You looked up at him, eyes big and wet with unshed tears and slurred out his name. “König!” 

The stench of alcohol washed over him like a wave as he knelt down next to you. “What happened? Are you ok?” He asked as he held your shoulders and dragged his eyes down your body to make sure you weren’t hurt. 

“My key stopped working!” You cried out, throwing your hand behind you at the door and hitting it a little too hard. “Ow!” 

He winced and took your hand in his, gently rubbing where you hurt yourself.

“I swear I paid my bills!” You cried again and threw your head back, he was quick enough to cradle your head before it hit the door. 

“Ok, darling. Let’s get you up.” 

You groaned and flopped your head to the side, leaning even more on the door. So he picked you up and set you on your feet, a little blush warming his face when you giggled out a surprised “so strong!” and then leaned against him, nuzzling your face against his chest.

With one hand planted in the middle of your back so you didn’t fall over, he checked the key hanging from the door. Sure enough it was stuck. It gave a bit of resistance but he managed to pull it out and chuckled when he saw it. 

“This is your mailbox key.” 

“Huh?”

He unlocked the door with the proper key and gave you a gentle nudge, trying to get you to walk inside. You groaned again and slumped even further against him.

“König,” you mumbled into his shirt, “can you carry me? Like a princess?” 

“Alright. Come on, princess.” He picked you up with an amused huff, being careful not to hit your feet on the doorjamb as he walked through. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and giggled when he picked you up. You attempted to repeat the cognate, and drunkenly failed (far too many ‘s’), but he nodded and closed the door with his foot. 

“That’s,” you mumbled as he gently set you down on the couch. “I’m. I’m your princess, right, König?” 

The alcohol once again had you miserably mispronouncing the word. It still had him chuckling and blushing beneath his mask, though. He nodded as he kneeled down in front of you. “Yes. You are my princess.” 

Gently he took one of your ankles in hand, another smile tugging at his lips as you started to laugh again, he was unsure if you were laughing at his words or because his gentle touch had tickled you. His own ankles protested as he looked at the strappy heels you were wearing. Sexy, certainly, but it’s no wonder you ended up on the floor. He removed your shoes and set them to the side of the couch. “Stay here, you need to drink some water.”

You were half laying down when he came back with a glass of water. He set the glass down and maneuvered you so you were sitting up again. 

“Drink.” He held the glass up to your lips, glad that you didn’t try to find him. “How did this happen?” He asked once you swallowed a few sips.

You shrugged. “Got ditched.” 

He stiffened next to you, a growl stuck in his throat as he bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything bad about your so called friends. 

You sighed and dropped your head back on the couch. “My friend met a guy. I hope he actually eats pussy, for her.” 

König’s head snapped to you, “what?”

You let out a lethargic laugh and turned your head, still leaning against the back of the couch, and raised your hands in frustration. “They’re so hard to find! Adrian is the only guy I’ve ever met that actually likes doing it!” You whined and slapped your hands over your face. “Why did I break up with him?”

He coughed, tried to sputter out something that honestly neither of you understood, and you mistook it for a laugh.

“It’s not funny! I’m never gonna find a guy to eat me out again.” 

You finally dropped your hands from your face and looked at him. “Oh! Shit! I’m sorry!” It was only now that you realized how uncomfortable your comments had made him. His knee was bouncing up and down nervously and his hands had an iron grip on his shorts. “I didn’t mean to- It’s okay if you don’t like to eat pussy, König!”

“What!” 

“You don’t have to do it! I’m sure you-”

“But I want to!” 

You paused your ramble and narrowed your eyes at him, he was refusing to look at you. “You want to…”

He nodded and still refused to look at you as he answered, “yes.” 

You gasped and straightened up, one of your hands landing on his thigh. “König-”

He cut off your next question by gently slapping a hand over your mouth, his eyes finally meeting yours again. “Don’t ask me that. Please, ask me when you’re sober.” 

You stared into his eyes, wide and dilated, and slowly raised a hand to tap his hand over your mouth. Slowly he dropped his hand and once again looked away from you.

“I was gonna ask,” he stiffened where he sat, “if you could stay and cuddle with me.”

“What?”

This time, you were the one shyly looking away from him. “I like when we cuddle. You make me feel safe.” 

“Oh.” König’s heart thumped in his chest. You were completely wasted, and still everything you said only made him like you even more. He nodded and stood up. You giggled as he gently scooped you up in his arms again and carried you to your room. 

“Yes. I will keep you safe, princess.” 

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 @wybwtjmiadz @ghonigsloverbabe @thatmusedhatter @grassclippers @skystreamchan 

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 23

PREVIOUS

There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.

The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.

The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.

Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.

“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.

So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.

“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.

“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.

“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.

The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.

Wymack.

Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.

“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.

“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.

“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.

“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.

“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.

“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.

Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.

That stupid bet.

The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.

Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.

The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))

“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.

“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.

“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.

“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.

“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.

“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.

“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.

Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.

“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.

Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.

It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).

Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.

“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.

“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.

Andrew blinks.

“She’s coming here?” He asks.

“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.

He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.

“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.

Shorter one today

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[rfsmith]

Y’all ever think Branch gets hit with the reality of waking up and realizing: “Holy fuck, this IS my life.”

And still finds it hard to believe that he’s in a romantic relationship with the Queen of Pop, with a literal QUEEN.

His brothers that left him 20 years ago, are either just living outside his bunker in the village now or he knows how to get into contact with them or knows where they live now. He was alone for 20 years and suddenly he has his family again.

The tribe that made fun of him being paranoid and overprotective now see him a very essential part of the village and want to hang out with him.

He’s super chilled with several royal families and leaders of other tribes.

He can casually join any group/band and they’d be accepting of him because he’s just like any other troll even though he has some differences.

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

I hope everyone knows in canon during the Princess Tea Party Jimmy was horrifically drunk

[solarmorrigan]

💘 for the writing game!

Hello! I definitely have to thank you for this prompt because I think it might be my favorite of all the fills I got to write for this meme (although I maybe got a little carried away) <3

Call this one a modern AU, probably. CW: emotional abuse, briefly mentioned homophobia, Steve just has a shitty family

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

Prompt from this list

-

So Eddie’s maybe been laying it on a little thick.

That’s his excuse, anyway.

It’s just – it’s possible he’s gotten a little carried away; while the idea had been for him to accompany Steve for moral support to the annual three days of torture that are his visits home for Christmas, Eddie’s priorities had shifted a little with the last phone call he’d overheard Steve taking from his mom.

Something-something-I hope you’ve found someone to bring home with you, Steven-something-something-your cousin already has a baby on the way-something-something-such a disappointment to see you alone, Steven-something-something.

Steve had looked so small and sad after talking to her, the way he always does after talking to her, and Eddie wishes his parents’ approval (or lack thereof) didn’t hold such a sway over Steve, not when they don’t deserve that kind of respect, but he also gets it – family is complicated. So instead, Eddie offers Steve a way to shove his parents’ faces in it.

Instead of showing up in a strictly platonic, friendly-like capacity, he offers to play Steve’s boyfriend for the holiday.

And since Steve is the same brand of crazy as Eddie (even if he buries it better), he accepts.

So from the moment they pull up in front of the Harrington house the morning of December twenty-fourth, Eddie plays the doting boyfriend to a tee. He holds Steve’s hand, he kisses him on the cheek, he snuggles up to him on the sofa; he plays nice with Steve’s homophobic grandfather, and is only a little snarky with Steve’s patronizing uncle, and talks Steve up every chance he gets.

So yes, he’s laying it on a little thick, but Steve’s family should think he has a partner who adores him.

Because Steve deserves a partner who adores him.

(Because Eddie does adore him. Which is – well, that’s probably part of the problem.)

It doesn’t work as well as Eddie had hoped it would, in the end. Steve’s family can’t fault him for being “pathetically single” anymore, but they can pick him apart in literally every other respect – and they do.

He takes it like a pro, letting the nasty, pointed comments roll off him, smooth and brittle as glass, never causing a scene or biting back, because it’s Christmas and apparently this is just how they celebrate.

(They mostly ignore Eddie, acting like he’s beneath them, which has Steve sending apologetic glances his way the whole day, like Eddie is the one who needs an apology when Steve is the one being vivisected by his family.)

Steve just holds in whatever he’s feeling until they’ve retired for the night, up in the guest room that used to be his room, that his mom had apparently barely waited until he’d moved out to start converting.

He holds it in and holds it in until the door shuts behind them and he all but collapses on the edge of the bed, crumpling in on himself like the ugly plaid duvet is crumpling underneath him, with his shoulders curved in and his face covered and his chest heaving with what are maybe supposed to be calming, deep breaths but are definitely not working, because the stress is still coming off him in waves.

And like Eddie said: he’s maybe gotten a little carried away with his role, but it just feels completely normal to go right to Steve, to curl his arms around him and pull him in close and remind him that his family’s opinions aren’t worth shit and that Steve is so good, and–

And when Steve uncovers his face, a little blotchy and pulling tight with the effort not to let any tears flow free, it just feels completely normal to press a kiss to his cheek, and another to the corner of his mouth, and another to his lips, all in quick succession, all soft and reverent and reassuring.

Eddie freezes the moment he’s pulled back. The moment he realizes what he’s just done.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs into the still air between them, “there’s… no one watching right now.”

You don’t have to do this, he means.

“I–” Eddie’s voice gets caught up in his throat, because his brain is screaming at him to play it off, to tell Steve that he just got carried away, got too into the role – but his heart, noisy fucker that it is, has different ideas. “I… maybe haven’t been faking as much as I said I was. Or, like– at all.”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve breathes, and then he’s pushing back in for another kiss, his mouth eager and warm and perfect against Eddie’s.

And the next two days aren’t going to be any less stressful, spent around a flock of hungry vultures masquerading as people, but Eddie figures that if nothing else, at least one good thing will have come from the holiday.

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and Steve opens up beneath him, anticipating him like they’ve been doing this for ages, and – yeah, Eddie decides.

One very, very good thing.