#Partners are for the romance tender shit

[sweeterelease]

regulus needs someone to kiss. pandora got him into this stupid muggle romance novel and while he can admit it's good writing, all the kissing going on inevitable makes him remember his past experiences, experience. he can't get his brain to stop comparing every affectionate scene with the three-way incident he had with barty and evan in third year. it wasn't even a kiss for merlin's sake, just awkward lips and cheeks pressing against each other, honestly, what were they thinking?

anyway, now he can't help the memory coming back whenever the male lead grabs his partner's face in his hands, it's actually a problem. so he'll listen to dorcas' just kiss someone else, that way those bastards won't be your only reference. dorcas is always right, maybe it could work. the issue now is where in earth does he get someone to kiss him?

he'll figure it out tomorrow. now, dinner is ready and he'll do pretty much anything to get his mind off the book’s happenings for a bit. regulus came in later than usual, the great hall is filled and it's kind of hard to walk through the sea of people, so he bumps into someone's back. shit, a gryffindo— oh hi reg, are you looking for sirius?

regulus stares into james potters' eyes, the boyish grin, he ponders. do the cons outdo the pros in this situation? would the consequences be worth it? hmm. james calls his name a second time and waits patiently, after a couple of seconds without response his eyes wander around nervously.

would you like to kiss me? he finds himself asking, in the middle of a crowded room, with his friends waiting for him at his house's table and his older brother looking at him curiously from across the hall.

james blinks once, twice, three and four times. he clears his throat and sorry, don't think i caught that right? it sounds out of breath, regulus can't tell if it's a good or bad sign.

regulus repeats himself, not sure what's so difficult about a yes or no answer. he continues with i need, um— experience, regulus feels a growing blush at that, definitely not a good sign.

experience. james calls, it's then when regulus catches the deep crimson around the older's cheeks, nose, neck? merlin, it's everywhere. is it really that embarrassing to be asked for a kiss by regulus? well then.

right. i apologize for asking that was— hands wrap around regulus' neck to pull him up. he can't do much but melt into james' embrace and take his kiss.

regulus blinks, he expected james to kiss like he does pretty much anything else, big, loud, unapologetic, and without holding back. but this kiss is tender, a tentative brush of the lips, almost fragile, and he holds regulus like he's made out of glass, like he's sad it has to end. frankly, it's sweet.

james pulls back and stares into regulus eyes, searching. he's shaking, regulus notices, and it takes until his feet meet the ground again to recover from whatever spell this man has put him through, actually— he's not sure it's over quite yet.

was that 'experience' enough? james rasps, brown eyes now glued to regulus' lips. he snakes both hands up the taller's back to mirror the ones still holding his jaw, relishing in the shivers he feels erupting. regulus stares into james potters' eyes again, the slightly bruised lips, he ponders.

no.

[comatosebunny09]

kindle | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, mutual pining, soft boi leon, stream of consciousness

Leon does these things that confuse the hell out of you while you’re on missions or around the office. You’re his partner—work partner—but sometimes you feel like a little more. More than the younger sibling caught beneath the shadow of an overbearing brother. 

You don’t really know where things are going because he’s made it glaringly obvious in the past that he doesn't mix work with pleasure. However, something’s clearly shifted in your relationship as of late. Yet, you can’t, for the life of you, pinpoint what it is or when it happened. 

Oftentimes, you catch him gazing at you in your peripheral, a fondness inhabiting his eyes like you’ve never seen with the slightest quirk to his lips. That softness remains when a battle-worn thumb swipes blood from your cheek or rubs grime from your jaw. 

Sometimes, he holds your chin between his fingers and tilts your head this way and that—much to your chagrin—to make sure you’re devoid of injuries. Though, you never miss how his irises glitter like the sunset against sea waves, and his lips part a little as he relinquishes the softest, most relieved sigh to the air. And sometimes, you stand like this for eons, confused yet enamored, until the wet garble of a zombie springs you two apart. 

You never miss how a cautious hand finds the small of your back while you’re hunched over paperwork at your desk. How it burns through the thickness of your blazer, causing your heart to work overtime. And Leon beams so boyishly, bowing over to swaddle you in his warmth and cologne as he quips how “you’ve got your work cut out for you.” Yet, as much as he hates filling out reports himself, he stays until the moon sits high in the sky to help you finish. 

He always walks you to your car afterwards, arguing that, shit yeah, you can handle yourself. You suplex the undead for a living. But he’d fling himself off a cliff if his dear partner got snatched up in the parking garage. And he always lingers around a little longer after you pull off, a tender smile cresting across his lips in your rearview mirror. 

But he’s your partner. He’s supposed to do things like that, right? 

Like, he’s supposed to bring you food when you forget to eat—which is quite often. He’s supposed to show up to your apartment to check on you on your days off, promising his company, booze, and terrible romcoms. Supposed to hold you in your bed until you surrender your consciousness to the pretty little girls of slumber. And maybe, just maybe, it’s standard for your partner to kiss you quietly behind your ear and embrace you tighter when you squirm and chuckle and sigh wistfully in your sleep.

Through the wispy haze and the grogginess and the darkness inhabiting your bedroom, you shift to gather his cheeks in your palms—maybe you’re awake. Perhaps you’re still lurking below the shadowy depths of sleep. Who knows—and you kiss him. Cautious, but you kiss him. And though he’s initially thrown off kilter by the suddenness of it all, he relaxes against the suppleness of your lips. And his brows furrow as if he’s waited millennia for this moment. And his throat crackles with a quieted, hoarse sound as his hands perch on your hips, drawing you ever closer until your wrists cross behind his neck, and—

And…

Well, this is totally normal. Right?

part 2 >>

[prettyboypistol]

Yo, cis guy here, I've always felt a lot of shame about being super gay for the tf2 men, because it made me feel like less of a man. You reckon I could possibly get a scout or engie x reader when theyre calling the reader handsome, pretty boy, big man, and lots of masculine petnames? Smut or fluff or ignoring this is fine

I really like your work dude 😁

fellow cis guy here- I totally get it man. i'm glad that other guys like me enjoy my work. I also struggled with my attraction to men and fictional men were (and still are) my escape from homophobia and biphobia. Stay safe, you're valid.

TF2 Mercs With a Masculine!Male Reader

Scout

He loves squeezing your muscles and feeling your abs, totally not thinking of you as a goal for himself!

Nicknames include: Big man, big boy, sweet cheeks, hot shot/stuff, bossman, stud, etc.

likes the feeling of your facial hair when you kiss him- it tickle/scratches him in the best way!

Soldier

Thinks of you as the best man in the unit of RED! You're an exemplary man with gusto and power to spare! Solly fell for you when he caught you on a morning run "to keep yourself fit". That dedication got his heart skipping!

Nicknames include: Soldier, pride, the unit's pride and joy, big man

arm. wrestling. as. flirting., sparring. as. flirting. honestly anything that gets him up close and personal to you

Pyro

Hold onto you like a damsel in distress and loves how protective you are over them. As much as Pyro would and has protected you from enemy Spies, they like depending on someone who can hold their own.

nicknames include: My fire, firefly, my fireman, big boy, handsome

They love how you treat them like "just another one of the boys" rather than "the creature"- it really hurts their feelings when they're excluded due to how they cope with life.

Engineer

God he couldn't have asked for a better assistant. You grab heaps of metal for him, toolboxes, and sentries you can pick up with both hands and carry over to him!

Nicknames include: Hoss, handsome, big man, sir, boss

loves watching you work out while he works on his bench (sometimes even being your bench weight)

Demoman

He treats you like how he'd treat any partner of his, no changes. Demo's kind, loving, tender, but would let you fend for yourself to not baby you.

Nicknames include: dear, darlin', lovely, loverboy, handsome, best-shag-of-my-life

loves cuddling up to you and just burying his face in your muscles- but when he's not sleepy he is constantly hooting and hollering about how awesome his boyfriend is.

Heavy

a lot more friendly about his romance, treating you more like a best friend than a romantic partner in public mainly due to his anxiety about "being caught"

nicknames include(mostly in russian): lover, love, handsome man, hero, heart

he loves kissing your strong hands and sliding his hands over your muscles, it assures him that you're strong enough to take care of yourself, and that eases his worries.

Sniper

god this is a useless gay man. he sees you crush a bonk can and his heart skips a beat. you take off your shirt and he's speechless. you make him unprofessional and it ruins him internally.

nicknames include: Hotstuff, love, mate, darling, chickadee, big bugger, bear

he likes asking you to carry his stuff, complaining about his aching arms (totally not to watch you carry his things!!!)

Medic

ooooh god this man is a HOMOSEXUAL for you. on GOD.

nicknames include: honeybear, my love, my heart, my magnum opus, big man, beast

can, has, and will continue to flirt with you on the battlefield, no matter who sees him do it. If anyone gives you shit for being gay, he's instantly at your side and ready to beat them down with you

Spy

i mean... if you have a degradation kink go ahead i guess? he treats you like a bodyguard in public and is cold and callous in other's eyes. they think he hates you. In private however he is all over you. kissing, holding, embracing, etc., whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

nicknames include: my sweet love, my man, my handsome, big beauty, sweetness

although he seems uncaring in public, anyone who disrespects you gets backstabbed as "target practice" later when they least expect it.

[intimidatingpuffinstudios]

ok rai is our new babygirl and i see they're pretty kinky.

question: how romantic the romance itself is? or angsty? can you give us a rating from 1 to 10 on romantic\angsty\horny\sensual scale?

thank you

Okay, so, the romance starts out pretty damn steamy and it stays that way until the end. Horny and sensual=10

How it goes is Rai asks you to be friends with benefits. They don't think they have the time or space to offer anything else. So you have to sleep with them and agree to this arrangement to kickstart the romance.

Once it happens, though, they have a very big oh shit moment. They try to downplay it, but they become super tender and attentive--not exactly buddies with benefits behavior.

So that's how it builds up. Give them the space to come to terms with their own infatuation, and it will turn to love.

Once it does, Rai would give their life for you. Put you above everything else. Even above their beloved freedom fighting. They are a very, very passionate and devoted partner.

The rest you'll have to find out for yourself 😉

[drmaddict]

Epiphany

Summary: Eddie finds one of (y/n)s special books. His imagination is fired, but that alone is not enough.

Wordcount: 1.434

Warnings: smutty but not explicit, mommy!kink, lots of fluff, clingy eddie munson, sub!eddie

Eddie came whimpering into his pillow.

Sweat stood on his forehead. His breath raced. His heart was pounding. He laid slain in his bed.

What the fuck?

He patted the small paperback on his nightstand. Holy shit. (Y/n) owed him big time for keeping this a secret from him.

But from the top.

Eddie and (y/n) had been dating for six months. He was happy and would probably steal the moon for her if he could.

Last week she had stayed over at the trailer for a few days. They hadn't gotten out of bed much, but neither of them had cared. Wayne may have cared.

It had been there goodbye before she would travel to visit relatives for two weeks over the summer vacations.

It wasn't until she was already gone and on the plane that Eddie had found the little book. It had probably fallen out of her bag.

He knew by now that she liked tearjerkers as well as fantasy. But he had never read any of them.

The little book was very thin, so he had decided it would be quick to read through. After a few pages, it became clear that this was a different kind of.... romance.

A respected nineteenth century businessman was married to the daughter of one of his partners.

So far so unspectacular, until he got to the halfway point.

'"What do you say?" purred Elizabeth, leaning down to him.

"Thank you.", groaned John.

Elizabeth buried her fingers in his hair and pulled forcefully. "Thank you what?"

"Thank you mommy. Thank you."

"Good boy.", she purred, kissing him on the forehead. "Are you Mommy's good boy?"

"Yes. Yes, Mommy. Please." John broke out in a sweat. His head went light. His thoughts clouded over. For over an hour now, his wife had been torturing him in the sweetest way possible.

"Please what?"

"Please may I come? Mommy? Please? Please?"

She stroked his chest. "You've been a good boy.... You have thirty seconds. Otherwise, I guess I'll have to wait... Until you get another thirty."

John whimpered and threw his head back.

"Thanks Mommy."

It didn't take fifteen seconds for John's thoughts to completely dissolve into air and clouds and he seemed to float through time with a blissful ease.'

Eddie had had an epiphany. Not just the sex... What came after. The baths and the cuddling. The tenderness. The caring... The love.

He wanted all of that with (y/n). He wanted (y/n) to be his mommy. He blushed at the thought.

The two weeks dragged on like chewing gum for Eddie. His pillow probably hated him by now and he was getting crankier with each passing day. His imagination was on full blast, but afterwards there was never anyone to hold him and stroke his back.

He waited jitterily at the front of the trailer until (y/n)s car pulled up and came to a stop.

He jumped up and immediately ran to her. He wrapped his arms around her before she could even say anything and buried his face against her neck. She put her arms around his shoulders as well and gently stroked up and down his back. Eddie melted away. A whimper escaped his throat.

"I missed you," he sighed.

"I missed you too." she replied softly.

She patted him on the back encouragingly. "Shall we go inside, or do you want to put down roots here?"

Eddie reluctantly let go of her but immediately grabbed her hand before heading to the trailer.

As soon as the door closed behind them, he wrapped his arms around her again. He had always enjoyed touching, especially with (y/n), but he had never been this extreme.

"What's up with you?" she laughed.

He just grumbled and buried himself against her neck again. "Found something," he muttered.

"What is it?"

"A book."

"A book."

"Your... book... about... About John and Elizabeth."

His cheeks turned bright red.

(Y/n) pushed him slightly away from him. Which was not easy. He was like a baby koala.

"THE book?"

He nodded. He didn't know if it was good that (y/n) was blushing too or not. He just knew he wanted to be back in her arms.

"I want...that," Eddie mumbled shyly. Eddie Munson and shy.

"What exactly?" asked (y/n), who was starting to understand what was probably going on with him.

He sat down on the couch that was in the main area of the trailer. "I want Mommy." He had thought it would be embarrassing, but not that embarrassing. The word had been running through his head over and over for two weeks. Had been the center of his imagination. But actually saying it was something else.

"You want me to be Mommy?"

Eddie nodded.

"And what do you want Mommy to do?"

Eddie kneaded his hands. "What... What they do in the book. I want Mommy to... Tell me what to do.... I want to be good. I want to make Mommy happy." Tears stood in Eddie's eyes. What was going on now?

(Y/n) immediately sat down on his lap and put her arms around him. "Okay." she sighed.

Eddie sobbed. "What's wrong with me?"

(Y/n) stroked the back of his head. Rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you imagine what it would be like to do all that?... To make Mommy happy?"

Eddie nodded.

"Were you euphoric? Like you could completely turn your head off for a second?"

Eddie nodded again.

"And then there was no one there, was there?"

"No... I was alone.", he sobbed.

"Poor baby." she sighed again, squeezing her arms tighter around him. "It's like drugs Eddie after the high comes the fall. That's why it's important that you come down safely after. You've been psyching yourself up for days and now you need someone to catch you."

Eddie let out the next sob. "Are you going to stay here?"

"Of course. Mommy's staying." She was still stroking his hair. "But we should move this to a more comfortable place. So you're a good boy and you're going to bed? Mommy's just getting water and snacks."

Everything in Eddie resisted letting her go, but he also wanted to prove to her that he was good. No matter how stupid that sounded. No matter how embarrassing it was going to be.

He slowly got up and went to his room. He lay down on his abused pillow and waited.

(Y/n) came a little later and lay down with him. She practically pulled him on top of her and just held him.

"We need to talk about some things first Eddie."

"Like what?"

"About everything, actually," she began. "What we want to do meanwhile. Where our boundaries are. How we're going to show each other we want to stop. What you need after that. What I need after."

He breathed in her scent. "Okay... I have time right now."

(Y/n) laughed lightly and Eddie was jolted. "Alright. Safe words? Any word so I know you want to stop right now. Preferably something you'd never say during sex," she explained.

"Jason." said Eddie immediately.

(Y/n) laughed again. "Good, Jason. Mine's Ruby."

Eddie nodded. "Ruby." he repeated.

"Anything you don't want at all?"

"There's a scene where she hits him.", he said, gesturing weakly in the book's direction. "I don't want that. Ever."

"Okay. I don't want that either. Do you like it when she praises him?"

Eddie blushed again. "Yeah... Very much."

"I can bring you some more books. So you'll get... more inspiration.", she grinned.

"How many of those do you have?", he asked curiously.

She smiled. "About the subject itself.... Some." she confessed. "But normally the woman is not actually the leading part. I only have four of those... When I first read this dynamic... Something made me understand it."

"Are you bringing them."

She nodded, and he felt it more than he saw it.

"And after that?" she asked further. "What do you imagine after that?"

"This is nice.", he said an cuddled more into her.

"Does talking help?"

"I like talking... I just don't know if I'll even be able to after it." he chuckled boisterously. He was starting to feel calmer. More relaxed.

"Do you want me to talk? I could read something to you."

"Lord of the Rings?" he asked euphorically, like a child.

(Y/n) laughed. "Sure. Lord of the Rings."

Eddie nodded.

"Feeling better?"

Eddie buried himself further against her chest. Almost curled up on top of her and closed his eyes. "Yes Mommy."

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 27

Fic masterlist

Guys it’s 3 a.m. I’m posting my 1st draft and hoping for the best love y’all

Warnings: NSFW, Remelle and other bombs

Words: 3,7k

Aelin could kill Rowan right now, as he placed featherlight kisses on her shoulder.

“Go away,” she grumbled while burrowing herself further under the covers.

“Baby…” Rowan kissed her neck now, tugging her body into the hard lines of his. “You were the one who—“

“Don’t.” With graceless movements, she turned to be face-to-face with him. “You’re being a jerk right now, you know that?”

He chuckled, amusement crinkling his eyes. “I’m a jerk for doing as I’m told?”

“Alexa, what time is it?”

“It’s 4:48 a.m.,” Alexa replied.

Aelin readjusted the covers so the only thing visible was her glare.

Yes, it was technically her idea, but how dare he follow up with her plan. Sometimes 24 hours a day is not enough to raise a five-year-old, take care of yourself, work, and romance your partner—hence why last night, when Aelin was so tired her eyes felt glued together, she told Rowan to wake her up earlier to have sex.

Yes, they’ve struggled to find time for each other the last couple of weeks, but that does not excuse Rowan for agreeing to wake Aelin up before 5 a.m. He should know better.

She squeezed her eyes shut, his arms an okay weight around her—she was still mad—as Aelin tried to fall back asleep. And failed. She tossed and turned on bed, chasing her own sleep, to no avail.

“Fireheart,” Rowan said after she wiggled for the millionth time.

She hid her face on his chest and groaned. “I can’t sleep.”

“Does that mean we’re having sex?”

Her glare was answer enough.

A chuckle. “C’mere,” Rowan said, and combed his fingers through her hair, soothing her with gentle caresses.

Shit, those were always nice. She let out a satisfied sigh. “I love you.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“But I’ll love you again after 7, so I might as well say it now.”

A pleased hum. “I love you.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you.” Her jaw. “I love you.” Her neck.

Aelin shivered. “You better.”

“Is that so?” Rowan said before turning his pecks into an open-mouthed kiss.

Her breath hitched, and she he arched her neck further to him. Once Rowan had so easily ignited her desire in a way only he could, Aelin grasped the back of his head and said, “May I?”

“So polite,” he said with a satisfied smirk, so Aelin lifted Rowan’s T-shirt she wore and directed his mouth to her bare breast.

Without ceremony, he licked her tit and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, earning a moan from her.

“You alright, Ae?” The glint in his eyes said he liked it too much.

“A bit sensitive,” she rasped. “Must be gettin’ my period soon.”

Rowan hummed and slid his full hand up her other breast, gently squeezing her nipple between his knuckles as he did it, focused on Aelin’s needy reactions. “Not too much?”

“Go on.”

He did, with gentle caresses at first that easily evolved into rough massages and flicks of his tongue against her. Aelin was taken over by Rowan above her and the waves of pleasure he gave her, squirming under his touch to his delight.

When Aelin was certain she could die from this nipple play alone, Rowan moved down her body, hooked her legs over his shoulder, and licked a strip between her folds without ceremony. Aelin’s muffled groans intensified when he applied more pressure with his flat tongue to her clit, and by the time he teased her entrance with his finger, it became a full curse.

“You wanna wake our kid at 5, hun?” Rowan said with no small amount of amusement.

Shit. Not now, and not in the next few hours, if they were lucky. Aelin would combust soon, either from an orgasm or frustration if the first didn’t happen.

“That’s what I thought.” He pecked a freckle on her hipbone. “Be a good girl for me, will ya?”

Aelin nodded, and felt herself melt and tense at once from Rowan’s tongue back on her pussy.

He worked her with nice and slow strokes, applying just the right amount of pressure in all the right places—how his tongue fell against her clit, or his fingers on her hips—Rowan knew her body that well. Aelin was nothing but the embodiment of sweet surrender, letting him set the pace and meeting him with needy jolts of her hips and soft whimpers that tightened his hold on her.

“Fuck, Ro,” she pleaded. No matter how much she muffled them, the sounds of her pleasure still echoed through the room. “You eat me out so good, babe.”

“Quiet, love,” he whispered while moving to muffle her moans with his mouth, leaving his fingers to work her cunt—two inside, thumb on her clit.

She felt her own taste on his tongue, and all off a sudden it was too much. Too much of him, too much of how he made her feel, and her pleasure felt like dam about to burst.

“It’s—“ Aelin gasped, that building tension in her hips tighter each moment. “It’s your fault I’m loud.” Her breath hitched. “You know it is.”

“Fuck- I know.” His kiss was quick and rough this time. “I know, baby.”

Aelin’s orgasm came in a slow burst, carefully built by Rowan’s fingers. Her gut tightened, back arched, and she came undone with stifled noises under him.

Rowan watched it with the same kind of focus he always did, enthralled and a bit wrecked himself by the results of his work.

After the crash, he nestled her against his chest with such tenderness, it was a startling contrast to the version of him that usually manhandled her in bed.

Aelin sighed against his chest, feeling dozy. “Just you wait for me to fuck your brains out, Rowan Whitethorn.”

He shushed her. “Later.”

She hummed questioningly, eyes heavier each moment.

“You wanted to sleep,” he whispered before giving her a forehead kiss.

Oh. She’d forgotten about it halfway through his tit play, though it does feel nice, his hand in her hair like this, after an orgasm with the sun still out.

It kinda makes her body feel a bit heavier, especially the eyelids.

˜˜

Aelin might as well be sleeping still, now that she was currently hearing a famous phrase from some nightmares of hers.

“Mommy, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeeeease,” Maisie said, for the millionth time in the last half-hour.

Bringing the kid to do groceries was a lose-lose situation: Aelin was either denying her candy or foods with a cartoon character in the packaging while simultaneously avoiding a tantrum, or freaking out because where the hell did my kid run off to if she’s not harassing me for candy.

This was of the reasons why Aelin and Rowan preferred taking her to the big convenience store closest to their house—that was big enough to look like a mini supermarket—Maisie didn’t have much lengths to run off here; the other reason being the proximity and how much they dreaded Doranelle City’s traffic.

There was the downside of most certainly meeting someone from work since they were neighbors in one big military housing area, but you win some, you lose some.

Maisie was still giving her puppy eyes, one hand holding a pack of gummy bears, and a hand basket she picked at front with sly intentions in the other.

Squinting her eyes at this cunning little thing she birthed, Aelin picked the pack from Maisie’s hand. The little girl watched with blatant anticipation as her mom examined this specific request.

Fuck, the kid picked the good shit this time. Maybe if Aelin and Maisie shared… no.

“I don’t think so, Maisy Daisy,” she said with a kind of heartbreak her daughter wouldn’t understand.

The girl’s face fell. “But I said please!”

“I know, honey, you were very polite about it, but—” Because Aelin was really looking forward for those gummy bears too, an idea came up. “I’ll let you choose between this and the sour one.”

The little girl frowned at the candy already secured in her basket. Maisie didn’t exactly like this, but it was enough to make her weight her options and courses of action. Then, she tilted her chin up in a defiant manner and took the candy back from Aelin’s hand.

“Are you putting it back on the shelf?”

“I’m shopping with Daddy.”

Weird. She must be really upset with Aelin with make such a request. Maisie might not know how to read big words properly, but she was an expert already on what to ask each parent to get exactly what she wants—Aelin didn’t trust Rowan to deny his daughter a new dog or a trip to Disneyland, but a sugar overdose? There was a reason why their kid initially chose to stay close to Aelin’s cart, not her dad’s.

Still, she made sure Maisie put the gummy bears back where they belonged, then escorted her to Rowan’s cart.

“You’re done already?” he asked before placing a kiss on Aelin’s cheek.

“Nope, she’s just upset she doesn’t have pediatric diabetes yet.”

Rowan chuckled, gave Aelin a forehead kiss, and resumed his shopping.

She left them to it and ventured to the fruit aisle, wondering about how they’ve been doing two separate groceries for the same family, along with: twice the electricity bill, twice the cleaning chores and house maintenance, twice the streaming—those greedy little bitches—subscriptions.

But that’s how they’ve decided to do so far, so Aelin focused back on the fruit, making some mental math on how much she should buy for one day and a half—she’d be staying at Rowan’s for three days after that time, according to Maisie’s custody schedule, so the fruit would rotten before she got back.

Aelin eyed the bananas again—they were being sold in hands of six. There was absolutely no way the three of them would tackle six bananas in less than 48h. If they were together in one house, just one banana hand would suffice. The small bunch would feel like enough, and there’d be no need to separate the bananas.

Aelin could break it and leave the other half at Rowan’s place, yes, but she liked to keep the bananas together, the hand whole. As if it wasn’t enough that they’ve been separated from the tree before the bananas were mature enough to be a proper hand, now the bananas she had were to be broken into smaller pieces.

A little lump swelled on Aelin’s throat, and she looked up, taking a deep breath. She would not cry. Not here, not now. Not ever, if a banana was the subject of her tears.

“So.” A comfortable weight fell on her back. “Are we just staring at the bananas, or…?”

Aelin chuckled, hoping it didn’t come out too watery. She saw Maisie choosing yoghurts down the aisle and leaned her head again Rowan’s shoulder, finally able to quiet her mind once he was near.

“I wanna move in together.”

And just like that, Aelin popped that question at the fruit section of the convenience store. Peak romance.

“I don’t know, Fireheart.” Rowan let out his pre-sass sigh. “I think I’m too comfortable mowing two lawns and ironing my uniform twice because it got rumpled in my bag.”

Aelin chuckled. She squeezed his hand, he squeezed it back, and apparently the deal was sealed.

“Is that why you were… having a moment?”

Rowan knew better than to drop an ‘about to cry’. Neither of them were criers, and no matter how far they’ve come with therapy, Aelin was still very private about her crying.

“It was because of the bananas. Don’t ask.”

Following her order, he fished a familiar pack of gummy bears from inside his cart. “Someone hid this between my stuff. She’s trying to outsmart us, Ae.”

Aelin laughed and took the candy from his hand. “Her problem that she thinks she’s the only smart person in that house.”

“She won’t outsmart you, though—I hope. You’ve probably tried every trick in the book your entire childhood.”

Yes, though while Aelin had two gay uncles that fell into parenthood by accident and were permissive out of pity for losing her parents too young, Maisie had two living parents so intent on parenting her, they tore each other apart.

With a sigh that came from the weariest corners of her soul, she repeated that same old thing inside her head: one day, Maisie would be glad she didn’t develop pediatric diabetes at five years old—that day was not today.

They looked over at her, and she was still at the yoghurt section, sliding her index finger over the refrigerator’s glass door with intense concentration.

“You think she’s reading?”

Their baby was about to finish preschool. They were finding it hard to get used to Maisie trying to decode letters and syllables she finally understood, her little finger underlining words as if it was a requirement for reading.

“Yeah,” Rowan replied with an awed look. “Did you get everything?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Me too.” He looked over at where Maisie was again. “Do you think I should…?”

“Don’t interrupt her!” Aelin whisper-yelled. She waved the gummy bears at him. “I’m gonna put those back. Wait here.”

Aelin did as she told, taking some time to look at the women’s toiletries on sale before meeting Rowan again.

But maybe she took too much time, because when Aelin came back, there was a blonde woman clinging on Rowan’s forearm like a monkey to a banana tree. He looked uncomfortable,

There was something familiar about this woman, but Aelin couldn’t place it in the time she rushed to join them.

“Dr. Galathynius!” the woman said with faux enthusiasm at the same time Aelin recognized those cerulean blue eyes.

She stopped on her tracks, realization washing her over like a tsunami.

This was the skank she caught flirting with Rowan last year.

Also, one of the doctors from Air Force General. A dermatologist, why they rarely crossed paths—her department was so peaceful it felt like a whole different hospital.

Dr. Remelle Wiselheade could as well be part of the long-gone Doranellian nobility—it didn’t change the fact that she had her chickenish long fingers clawed around Rowan.

“Oh, hi.” Without faking enthusiasm, Aelin extracted Remelle’s hand from her man’s arm, but not without making the point of taking a look at the wedding band on her finger. “How’s your husband doing?”

Remelle didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes were between Rowan, Aelin and Maisie—who looked like a mix of them both. When the pieces fell into place in her mind, she widened her eyes in surprise with a poisonous smile. “I’m finally putting faces to the stories now! It’s hard to believe you’re the reason for all that fuss,” she told Aelin.

The story, meaning whatever people said about her past with Rowan, especially the context in which Maisie came to be. Aelin wasn’t ashamed of it, but the way Remelle brought it up made her want to claw the woman’s eyes out.

“We should go.” Rowan’s jaw was tight, and Aelin had to give it to him: he really did try hard to act polite when Maisie was near. Mala knew this wasn’t his best skill.

“Of course.” Remelle aimed a sly grin at Rowan and said, “Nice seeing you again.”

Rowan blinked, his mouth ajar. Aelin thought he had frozen for feeling annoyed or offended at the blatant flirting, but he tilted his head in pure confusion and said, “Have we met before?”

“Of course, silly!” She casually pointed her index finger at Aelin. “And I’ve been meaning to stop by at ortho! I’ve been getting some awful scar management cases from your post-op patients.”

“I’m so surprised to hear that,” Aelin replied, her jaw hurting from the fakest smile she’s ever wore—it was either that or clock the bitch in the face. The worst part was that she wasn’t sure if Remelle was lying to get under her skin, or if she was getting called out for the dumbasses from her department.

“Honestly, I don’t know what could’ve had happened. Maybe I didn’t double-check my resident’s sutures because I was distracted by the huge pimples on my patient’s face.”

Not a chance this would’ve happened, but Aelin still did a mental note to talk about this to her residents. Possibly with a scolding involved.

Remelle continued, “I don’t mean to tell you how to perform your surgeries, but—“

“You do surgee too?” Maisie asked, only now paying attention to the adults.

The woman frowned at the little girl, taken aback. “Well, no, but—“

“Uncle Orlon did a surgee too, he—“

“He didn’t do the surgery, honey, he—“ Aelin interrupted.

“He had a little bump sucked out of his butt!” Maisie shouted with newfound excitement after listening to the grown-up talk for so long.

Remelle was dead on her tracks, eyes widened with horror at the incredibly unpolished little girl.

“It’s true!” Maisie continued, flailing her arms around with big gestures because she thought the woman’s shock was out of doubt. “He had hemmy-roys! I know because I went to his house and he had a pillow with a hole in it, so I asked him, Uncle Orlon, why is your pillow so unfluffy? And he told me…”

Maisie went on and on, not caring about anyone’s sensibilities as she told Remelle about Orlon’s hemorrhoids in great detail. Fascinating subject for a five-year-old, or maybe just Aelin’s five-year-old. The woman looked frozen, but Aelin refused to believe it was disgust—Remelle might be a dermatologist, but she did go to med school after all. There was no way she was disgusted at a kid’s story about an elderly relative’s hemorrhoids.

“…And now he’s doing a lot better, but his husband has to put cream on his bum every day, and he needs to eat a lot of fruit so it doesn’t hurt when he poops.”

Remelle blinked. “I see.”

“And now we really have to go,” Rowan said. He couldn’t sound less apologetic. “Mais, wanna see how fast you can get to the cashier?”

“Race you!” She shouted and shot down the aisle.

Her parents quickly bid their farewells. Remelle just mumbled a goodbye, the same weirded-out look still on her face when they last saw her.

“Where’re my gummy bears?” Maisie asked at the checkout.

Mother and daughter stared at each other. Maisie knew those gummy bears she smuggled in her dad’s cart weren’t approved, and she knew her mother knew what she did. Aelin knew Maisie knew she knew. On the sidelines of the interaction, Rowan pretended he didn’t know what was going on.

Neither of the three dared say a word. The ride home was remarkably peaceful.

˜˜ “Rowan.” Aelin tried to sound stern, but she liked it too much when he was being playful like this.

In her kitchen, he held her hostage in his arms while she protested, saying she needed to put the groceries away. Her captor was unrelenting, kissing her neck and telling her he needed her now.

“We should meet halfway,” he conceded. “We put away just the fridge stuff and go to your room. How about that?”

However, they had already used most of Maisie’s very limited screen time to do this quickly at his house, putting away his groceries, then came to her place do the same thing. The kid’s TV show episode could end at any given moment, and Aelin better be done by the time it happens.

When she reminded him as much, his small whine was absolutely adorable.

Rowan was undeterred, though. “We live together now. Don’t I have a say in the house rules?”

No, but that brought a small smile to her lips. “Are you okay, though? With living together now.”

They hadn’t had much to talk about that, and she knew the logistics weren’t simple.

“I want everything, Aelin, and I want it for yesterday.” He shuddered out a long breath, and she tried not to read too much into how he tugged her closer from behind, encasing her in his embrace with one thumb brushing her lower belly. “But some of it is just me—stuff I didn’t get to do. Guilt. I’m still sorting that out. And I’m much more comfortable just following your pace, at least for now.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Aelin sighed. “We have a lot to talk about, but we really do need to put away these.”

He groaned, but picked up a plastic bag to help.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “The sooner we do this, the sooner we sort things out, and the sooner we move in together.”

They worked together in silence, quickly tackling bag after bag so they could repeat the same thing in Rowan’s place.

“Fireheart?” Rowan handed her one bag. “I think this goes in your room.”

“Oh.” Aelin eyed the menstrual pads inside. “I found these on sale, they were such a steal!”

Amusement crinkled his eyes. “That’s great, babe.”

She always perked up when she found pads on sale, Aelin thought as she went to her room. She was terrible at tracking her own period, so she bought pads at random and had a stock ready whenever she needed them.

Aelin opened her ensuite’s cabinet door and—

Weird.

Her stock was nearly overflowing.

Weirdweirdweird. Aelin’s heartbeat shot up before she could properly process what was going on.

She didn’t keep good track of her period, but her pads and tampons always kept to a certain amount, but this… this looked almost as if Aelin hasn’t had her period for a while.

Weird.

Aelin took one step back. Another.

Naps with Fleetfoot. Crying over bananas. After-pizza sickness. Fuck.

Time slowed down and everything felt to physically distant—Aelin felt like she was suspended in a void, no solid footing as she walked to the kitchen where she left her things.

“Where’re you going?” Rowan asked when she had her purse and car keys in hands.

“I forgot to buy something.”

“Want some company?”

“No, I—“ Aelin closed her mouth. Smiled. “Just buying some vitamins,” she half-lied.

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[sixhours]

who knows where the time goes

It's New Year's 2027 and the dads are going through it. An i know you by heart one-shot.

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 11k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), fluff for once, canon-compliant with season 1, SMUT, smut right off the bat, don't say I didn't warn you, gay sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, bisexual!Joel, gay!Ezra, homophobia and use of homophobic slurs, romance, age gap (~10ish years so barely a thing), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: Look Ma, no angst! The boys are back and they're stupid in love and their kids are growing up even if that's hard to accept.

You can also read who knows where the time goes on AO3

Joel is beginning to wonder why the hell he agreed to this.

Ezra came what could have been minutes or hours or days ago. He’s in no rush to finish the job they’d started in the shower, and now Joel is hard as a rock and trussed up with a belt securing his wrists to the headboard, and his partner seems intent on edging him to the point of delirium.

Ezra releases his cock from between kiss-swollen lips and Joel looks down, gritting his teeth in frustration. This is the third time he’s come so close to release he could almost taste it, and now Ezra is smirking that coy little smirk and crawling up the bed in the wrong fuckin’ direction. He kisses his way back up Joel’s body, lingering on his stomach, nipping at the softness there, dipping his tongue into Joel’s navel, then coming up to tease a nipple with the flat of his tongue until he arches.

“Hello, songbird,” he whispers, nuzzling at Joel’s lips with the tip of his prominent nose.

“I hate you,” Joel growls, an errant tear of frustration drawing a wet trail down to his temple.

“You don’t mean that, cher ,” he says, eyes flashing. “You know the safeword. Use it at your leisure, mon coeur , unless…you think you can take a little more…”

Joel groans as Ezra purposefully lays his weight along him, thigh pressed firmly along his leaking cock, offering barely enough friction to satisfy. He wriggles against him anyway, seeking any kind of release at this point, reduced to humping his goddamned leg like a dog.

Oh, the things he’s going to do to that man when he gets his hands free.

Ezra seems preoccupied with his neck, the line of his jaw, stubble scraping against stubble that he wishes was scraping somewhere else. Like between his thighs. There’s the brush of his lips at the hollow of Joel’s throat, the bite of teeth testing the tender flesh. Then he’s being kissed soundly, hungrily, lower lip sucked greedily into Ezra’s hot mouth, tongues slipping over one another in a lush dance that does little to cool the roaring fire in his lower belly or soothe the heaviness between his legs.

And then he’s left gasping, no more friction, no more warmth or weight, and he growls a protest and tugs at the restraint. His eyes roll in his head at Ezra’s gentle huff of laughter, and he’s halfway to slipping his hands out of the belt loops–they’re not that tight–when Ezra’s mouth finds his cock again.

“Ohhh oh oh fuck,” he manages, a strangled cry of surrender.

His breath comes in hot, frantic pants as Ezra’s tongue swirls a brand just inside the tip of his foreskin, and an errant flick against the slit elicits an involuntary whimper from Joel’s lips. Then he’s wrapped in the hot wet silk of Ezra’s mouth, his tongue sliding and slicking every inch, grunting when his cheeks hollow and he sucks, a rough tug upward that sends sparks of molten ecstasy up Joel’s spine. He’s so worked up at this point, it takes almost nothing to bring him to the edge, hips bucking and straining to follow the source of his pleasure.

“Baby…oh, god, Ez, please…I’m gonna…gonna come,” he grits out.

Ezra chooses that moment to pull away, deep brown eyes wide and feigning innocence.

“I do believe that’s the point of this little exercise, mon cœur .”

“Fuck!” Joel roars as his orgasm slips quietly out of reach. Again.

“Mmmhmm,” Ezra coos, drawing it out in a self-satisfied hum as he plants a kiss on Joel’s hip, rubs his scruff against the tender skin of his inner thigh, levers his legs apart with broad shoulders and draws lazy circles along his sac with his tongue. “Yes, that is the idea here.”

“Is it?” Joel pants, bucking his hips in a vain effort to get Ezra’s attention back where it needs to be. “Because that’s not…not what…oh, fuck, Ez, don’t stop…ah, fuck.”

He loses his train of thought as Ezra adeptly sucks one of his balls into his mouth, holds it, runs the soft wet muscle of his tongue around it.

“I think you like it,” Ezra murmurs, muffled by the vee of his legs as his tongue dips and licks and sucks lower, tasting his own sticky release between Joel’s legs. Then one thick finger slides in easily, followed by another.

Joel squirms as he begins petting that spot inside with the tips of his fingers, stoking the throbbing heat in his gut. He’s leaking precum in a steady stream, cock twitching whenever Ezra pushes in and hooks his fingers at just the right angle. Rubbing and rubbing and stroking until Joel fairly keens.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Oh, fuck, please Ez, please I need…I need–”

“What do you need, cher ?”

“You,” Joel growls, the word rumbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, reduced to the throbbing between his legs, the heat boiling at the base of his spine, the persistent aching want of it.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Ezra murmurs.

Ezra lifts his head, securing his fingers and taking Joel’s cock so deep his nose brushes the soft thatch of hair at the root. He can’t look away when Ezra’s eyes meet his own, anchoring him, even as his body arcs and twitches like a live wire, heels digging into the mattress when his sensitive head hits the back of his throat. And when he finally begins to move with purpose, when it’s clear he has no intention of slowing or stopping or delaying the inevitable, Joel thinks he might black out from the intensity, head slamming back to the pillow with a cry that is as much relief as pleasure.

please, please, baby, please, ezra, love, please

He’s not even sure if he’s saying the words aloud. His mouth is moving, sounds of pleasure bubbling forth as Ezra devours him with firm strokes of his mouth, over and over and over, fingers tapping a heartbeat rhythm inside him. He’s nothing but heat and throb and pulse and so full and wet and–

oh oh oh yes there right there right oh god ezra yes please

Joel finally comes, and comes, and comes, orgasm drawn out for what feels like eternity. Arms aching and taut, shoulders on fire, body jerking and arching until he’s drained and limp with it. And Ezra doesn’t stop, just continues his ministrations, softer swipes of his tongue, gentle suckles, licking him and lapping at him like a fucking ice cream cone until even the slightest movement sends his body into a fit of overstimulated shivers and the safeword is dancing on the tip of Joel’s tongue.

When he’s completely soft, Ezra finally releases him, carefully straddling his hips. Joel doesn’t have a single muscle left at his command. He tries to move and his body just…doesn’t.

And Ezra, the smug bastard, seems really fucking pleased with himself.

“Did so good for me, love,” he murmurs, tugging at the strap securing Joel’s wrists to free him from the headboard, guiding his arms down to rest against his chest. He’s far too adept given his lack of a second hand, and if Joel weren’t so fucked out, he might think to question Ezra’s skill with restraints.

Ezra takes one of Joel’s wrists in hand, examining it with soft eyes. He kisses the pink stripe of skin where the belt etched a mark, soothes it with his tongue, then kisses the tip of each knuckle before gently lowering the arm, repeating the ritual with his other wrist. Joel winces; his shoulders are gonna feel it tomorrow. Hell, his whole body is going to feel it tomorrow.

“Sore?” Ezra murmurs as if reading his mind.

Joel doesn’t have the energy to do much more than blink in response. He’s coated in a fine sheet of sweat, the sheets beneath them soaked. His heart throbs in his throat.

When he finally finds his voice, all he can utter is, “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

Ezra grins then, the boyish, cocky smile that made Joel fall in love with him. He slides down until he’s resting against Joel’s side, lets their lips meet and parts them easily with the deft swipe of his tongue. He tastes himself, lets Ezra lick into his mouth with a shuddering whimper. Even now, overstimulated as he is, he lets Ezra take what he needs, take and take and take, deepening the kiss until his head swims, until they’re both breathless from sharing each others’ air. Ezra is somehow more needy after sex, nuzzling and nipping like he can’t get close enough, only satisfied when Joel finds the strength to roll to his side and wrap an arm and a leg around him, caging him with his body and pressing him firmly into the mattress.

“Let me take my reprieve for a moment, then I’ll draw us a bath,” Ezra rumbles against Joel’s throat.

“Ain’t movin’,” Joel says.

“You are,” Ezra says easily, kissing his nose. “I cannot abide the night in this sweaty, soiled bedding.”

“Shower, then,” he mutters. “You put me in the bath and I’m stayin’ there ‘til next week.”

“Fair enough.”

And they do eventually work up the energy to shower, a perfunctory wash that has Joel leaning against the wall with exhaustion and Ezra doing most of the work to clean them both. He leaves to let Joel finish up, and by the time he’s dried off and pulled on his boxers, Ezra has already changed the sheets and is sitting up in bed, reading glasses perched on his nose as he frowns at some psychology text, damp hair curling around his ears.

The sight of him like this, so domestic, still flushed from sex and the shower, stirs a primal feeling in Joel’s gut, something new and unexplored. It’s the same feeling that led him to stash a small blue box in the back of his nightstand drawer, a box he hasn’t worked up the courage to think about since he put it there a few months ago.

But he’s too damn tired to ponder that right now.

He slides between clean sheets and pulls the quilt up to his chin and plants a kiss on the side of Ezra’s thigh because it’s the only part of him within reach. He’s already half asleep when Ezra pauses his reading to curl over him, whispering a soft goodnight into his ear.

~*~

Joel wakes with a groan several hours later. He’d barely moved in the night, hadn’t even turned over once, and now he’s paying for it, every muscle stiff with the pleasant ache of overuse.

“Songbird,” Ezra rumbles in his ear.

A slow kiss good morning turns into something more, something unhurried and deep and languid with no ulterior aim. Just the thought of trying to get it up again makes Joel’s groin ache, anyway.

“Mmm, mornin’,” he murmurs into Ezra’s mouth, not quite breaking the kiss, not quite ready to leave their warm cocoon. His lips wander, nipping at Ezra’s chin, his neck, suckling at the freckle just behind his left ear, that hidden spot that makes him shudder.

Downstairs, the door slams.

“Joel?”

Ellie’s voice echoes up the stairs. She moved into the garage over the summer, after she turned seventeen, right about the time Ezra started sleeping over on a more permanent basis. The extra space seems to have done their relationship some good and given them all some necessary privacy, but usually she’s the one joining them for breakfast and not the other way around.

“Jesus, what time is it?” Joel mutters.

Ezra rolls over and squints at the clock. “Eight-thirty.”

“Joel? Ezra?”

“We’re comin’,” Joel calls, stealing one more kiss before he slips reluctantly out of bed. “Hold your damn horses.”

By the time he makes it downstairs, a pot of coffee is bubbling on the stove and Ellie is frying eggs in the large cast iron skillet.

“Wild night?” she asks, not looking up from the pan. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Joel snorts, headed straight for the coffee, dropping a kiss on the back of her head.

“This the good stuff?” he asks, peering over her shoulder.

“Mmhm. Leftover from Christmas,” Ellie says, flipping an egg, yolk breaking all over the pan. “Damnit.”

He groans in wordless appreciation and pours himself a cup. The first sip is almost as orgasmic as��well. He sighs a deep, rumbling sigh and carries his mug to the table, holding it in both hands with reverence.

“Should I leave you two alone?” she snarks, just as Ezra joins them.

“Morning, gem,” Ezra says, eyes brightening. “Ooh, is that real coffee I smell?”

“The finest shitwater this side of the Mississippi,” Ellie drawls. “100% pure, uncut shit.”

This does nothing to dissuade Ezra from pouring himself a cup and indulging with the same reverence as his partner. Ellie pours herself some apple juice and slides the eggs onto three plates, carrying all of it to the kitchen table.

“Are you two going to the bonfire tonight?” she asks, sitting down and forking half an egg into her mouth in one swift motion.

“Wouldn’t miss it, gem,” Ezra says, just as Joel mutters, “Don’t think so.”

Ellie smirks as they exchange a look.

“S’the same thing as last year,” Joel grumbles. “New year, new flag, someone gets drunk and tries to set themselves on fire by fallin’ into the pit. Not a whole helluva lot to miss.”

“Come, songbird, you can’t tell us there isn’t a certain hopeful, buoyant energy about the time. Is there nothing more sacred than the ritual of a community overcoming all odds, welcoming the year with fresh spirits?”

“At least it’s not a stupid dance,” Ellie supplies. “And there’ll be marshmallows. Talia made loads.”

“See? Marshmallows!” Ezra nudges Joel, who grumbles a non-answer and returns his attention to his coffee.

“And I heard Marnie Jacobs designed the flag this year,” Ellie continues. “So you know it’ll be weird.”

The town flag has become a Jackson New Year’s tradition. Instead of a ball drop, the final ten seconds of the year are celebrated by raising a new flag in the town square. The design is kept secret by the council and its creator until its reveal, and at this time of year, speculation runs rampant. Joel figures this is what passes for entertainment in a world without reality TV.

“Ellie,” he scolds mildly.

“What? It’s true, Marnie’s a fuckin’ weirdo. Didn’t say it was a bad thing. Anyway, I’m going to be with Cat and Dina and Jesse so feel free to pretend you don’t know me.”

“Won’t Cee be joining you?” Ezra asks.

“No, she’s going with Luke.”

There’s a heavy pause as Ezra narrows his eyes. “I see.”

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Ellie says nonchalantly, taking a sip of her juice. Joel gives her a light kick under the table and shoots her a look.

Ezra scowls, grabbing his plate and taking it to the sink. “I have no reason to dislike the boy.”

He spits out the word boy with clear disdain. Cee and Luke have been an ongoing topic of contention since they started dating last summer. Ezra seems to have abandoned his usual easy-going attitude with regards to this particular part of Cee’s life in favor of watching the two like a hawk and griping about how close they’ve become, both literally and figuratively. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the relationship that Joel can see–just that Cee is one of the two people involved.

“However–” Ezra begins, clearly about to hold forth. Again.

“Annnnd that’s my cue,” Ellie says, hopping up from the table with a mouthful of food, gulping down the rest of her juice, and tossing her plate in the sink.

“Deserter,” Joel hisses under his breath as his kid abandons him to Ezra’s monologue, practically frolicking out the door. 

“Cee is too young to be tying herself down, she’s barely old enough to know what she wants, what’s good for her–”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, sipping his coffee, knowing it’s better to let Ezra wear himself out than try to interject. But he’s still going when the dishes are done and they’re walking to their respective assignments; Ezra to his office, still at his old house, and Joel to a remodeling project on the north end of town.

“I know you see her as a kid, but she’s twenty years old, Ez,” Joel tries, when it’s clear his partner is not going to be subdued.

“He’s older,” Ezra counters.

“By six months,” Joel says, quirking his lips.

“Still, I am loath to see birdie’s impressionable young mind corrupted by–”

“She’s a smart kid. She ain’t gettin’ corrupted.”

“They’re always together, always on top of each other–”

“Most I’ve ever seen ‘em do is hold hands.”

“The autumn dance?” he says insistently. “Remember? One couldn’t have pried the two apart with a crowbar.”

“He was nothin’ but respectful, hands never went south of her waist. I know, because you made us watch ‘em all damn night,” he grumbles. “Luke’s a good patroller, hard worker, got a good head on his shoulders. He’s polite, does his job. Mom’s on the council–”

“None of which means he isn’t harboring sinister motives, songbird.”

“They seem happy enough. They’re young, sure, but…Cee could do a lot worse.”

“Well, I don’t trust him. You and I are far too familiar with the habits of young men of a certain age.”

Joel snorts. “You’re preachin’ to the choir. But the clinic’s got birth control.”

“She’s on it, I made sure of that,” he says, frowning. “But there are worse things than pregnancy. She has that whole house to herself, and I can’t help but think they have a bit too much freedom, too much space in which to make trouble.”

“Don’t think ‘trouble’ is the word you’re lookin’ for,” he smirks, eliciting a scowl from Ezra. “You could sleep at your place more often.”

He hates the idea as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Don't doubt I have considered it. I recognize the need for some independence on her part. I just…I can’t help but feel incredibly protective of her.”

“Congratulations, dad ,” he says wryly. “Welcome to the club.”

“I know where we come from, songbird,” he says, shoulders sagging a little. “I know what she…what we…went through. I fear she doesn't have a solid grounding in intimate relationships and therefore lacks the experience and…and foresight to fully grasp the consequences.”

“You fared alright,” Joel counters softly.

“Yes, well, I’ve had years to draw my own conclusions. She’s–she’s…”

For once, Ezra seems to find himself at a loss for words.

“She’s gonna figure it out the way the rest of us did,” Joel finishes for him. “Trial an��� error, an’ a little bit of heartbreak.”

They’ve reached his office. They linger outside while Ezra frowns, thoughtful.

“Would you be so cavalier if it were our…your young prodigy?”

Joel can’t help but notice the our , but he bites his lip on that.

“Y’know…I think I would,” Joel says. “‘Sides, Ellie’s not into that stuff yet. She’s got her friends…her patrols. Doesn’t seem all that taken by anyone.”

Thank fuck , he doesn’t say. He tries to imagine Ellie in a romantic relationship but can’t quite manage it. That Jesse kid seems to have taken a liking to her, but then he’s always hanging around with the girls…to the point where Joel wonders if he’s a little more like Ezra than Joel.

“Well, when she is, perhaps you’ll see it from my point of view,” Ezra sighs.

“Maybe so,” Joel says agreeably, placing his hands on Ezra’s shoulders until they’re standing face to face. “What was it you said? ‘Hopeful, buoyant energy?’ New year, new start? It’ll work out.”

He brightens. “Does that mean I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight?”

Joel huffs a breath into the cold. “Yeah…fine. I’ll be there.”

“Perhaps we’ll share a New Year’s kiss?” Ezra grins, moving closer. “We could practice…”

Joel lets himself be pulled into a one-armed embrace, lets Ezra’s mouth slant over his in a kiss reminiscent of their morning explorations, something on the edge of indecent for standing in the middle of the street.

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” Joel mutters when he finally pulls away, a blush creeping from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. But he walks the rest of the way to work with a lightness in his step, thinking of the small blue box in his nightstand drawer.

~*~

The evening of the bonfire settles over Jackson crisp and clear. Joel goes home after work to wash up, finding a note on the table from Ezra–he got roped into helping set up in town. Ellie is nowhere to be found, probably finishing up with her work shift or off somewhere with her friends, so he eats a supper of leftover chicken and potatoes standing at the counter, alone. There was a time in his life here when this was the norm, and he doesn’t miss it.

He heads to the party around nine, drawn to the north field by plumes of fragrant woodsmoke and the sound of live music. They’re far away enough from town not to cause concern but still in sight of the square, and close to the creek so they have ready access to water, but there’s no wind tonight and no reason to think there will be trouble. There’s already a crowd around the roaring fire. Cold as it is, the intense warmth radiating from the central pyre is welcome.

Joel helps himself to a bottle of hard cider–it’s the closest thing they have to champagne–and finds Ezra at the edge of the crowd, chatting animatedly with Marnie. She’s eccentric, he’ll give Ellie that–bushy red hair, Coke-bottle glasses, neon pink ski jacket decorated with patches and buttons, but she’s friendly and talented with a sewing machine. She’s made clothes for half the town, and Joel is pretty sure the flannel he’s wearing under his jacket is one of hers.

He lingers in the background, content to watch his people enjoying the celebration. He glimpses Ellie and her friends off to one side, huddled together in that secretive way of teenagers, wanting to be in the middle of the action while still appearing aloof. Tommy is wrangling Isabel, the toddler doing her best to keep her father on his toes, drawn like a moth to a literal flame; Joel can’t help but think of Sarah at that age, the constant need for distraction and redirection. Maria is chatting with one of their neighbors, looking more relaxed than he’s seen her in a while. Izzy must finally be sleeping through the night.

Then he catches sight of Cee sitting on a log on the other side of the fire with Luke. They’re close, heads bowed together as they strain to hear one another over the crackling, popping fire and the crowd, lost in their own little world. Ezra sidles up to Joel with a frown.

“Perhaps I should check in, ensure our little birdie is–”

“Leave it,” Joel says, threading their fingers together. “And hello, by the way.”

“I just–”

“Ez, c’mon,” he murmurs, tugging him back, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’s not usually so affectionate in public but Ezra is pliant enough. He settles against his side, still eyeing the oblivious young couple with suspicion, and Joel not so subtly turns them and marches them in a different direction.

“C’mon, let ‘em enjoy the party without us old guys hangin’ around.”

“Their ‘enjoyment’ is exactly what I’m afraid of,” he grumbles, glancing over his shoulder as Joel practically drags Ezra to the cider table and forces a bottle into his hands.

“Never developed a taste for this stuff,” Ezra says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, develop one,” Joel says drily. “You need to relax.”

“I am perfectly relaxed,” he mutters sourly, but he takes a large swig from the bottle.

At some point Ellie flits by, licking her fingers clean of what is probably her fifth toasted marshmallow, if Joel had to guess. She’s talking excitedly with Cat through a mouthful of white fluff when she notices them, waving with a grin and wandering their way. Cat is the most reserved of Ellie’s friends. Like Dina, she lives with her older sister, but Joel gets the sense she’s not looked after closely.

“Dude! You actually came,” Ellie says, punching Joel on the arm in greeting.

“Seems that way,” he agrees mildly, keeping what he hopes is a not-embarrassing distance. It takes all his self-restraint not to pull her into a hug and give her a noogie.

“What a pleasant surprise, you’ve decided to acknowledge our presence,” Ezra quips.

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary,” she smiles, eyes shining. “We heard Marcello found a bunch of those sparkler things on a scavenging run. We’re gonna go see if twenty-year-old fireworks still light.”

“What could go wrong?” Ezra says at the same time Joel opens his mouth to protest. But someone taps him on the back–Tommy with Isabel in tow–and Ellie and Cat and their plans are lost to the crowd. He sends up a silent wish for his kid to survive the night with all her fingers and toes intact before accepting his niece, bundled up against the cold in her winter snow suit.

“Someone wanted to see her uncles,” Tommy says, looking a bit rough around the edges.

“Unca Jojo! Unca Ra!”

“Sure she did,” he smirks. “More like daddy just needed a break from chasin’ her around all night, huh bug?”

“Biiiiiig fow,” she agrees. “Big fow owie.”

“You bet, kid. What’re you doin’ up this late, anyway?” he asks, and she launches into an explanation in toddlerspeak that Joel just barely understands.

“Mama n’ Dada bing Izzy wiff. Big fow! No ni-ni.”

“Everyone an’ their great aunt is here tonight,” Tommy shrugs. “Couldn’t find a sitter so bedtime is canceled. Don’t think we’re gonna make it to midnight, though.”

“Didn’t ask me,” Joel says. “Would’ve loved to have an excuse to get outta this.”

“I beg your pardon,” Ezra says, feigning offense, sticking out his tongue at Izzy, who giggles shyly. Babies aren’t Ezra’s thing, but he and Izzy have developed a tentative friendship based on a regular exchange of funny faces.

Conversation turns to the usual subjects; the weather, the never-ending list of community construction projects, council business, Izzy’s sleep habits, Ellie’s misadventures. At some point, Ezra quietly excuses himself and Joel loses track of him, focused instead on talking to Tommy and keeping Izzy from wiggling her way out of his arms.

When Joel thinks to look for him, searching the crowd of familiar faces, he finds his partner hovering over Cee and Luke. The kids look less than pleased. Joel is debating whether to intervene when Cee stands and leaves in a huff, and Ezra takes her place on the log next to a very uncomfortable looking Luke.

“Shiiiii–shoot,” he mutters, interrupting his brother and handing the baby back. “I gotta go.”

Tommy arches a brow. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Dunno yet,” he mutters before striding over to the other side of the bonfire.

“‘Scuse us,” he says to Luke, pulling Ezra up by the hand before he can protest and steering them away from the poor kid. Joel remembers when Sarah was little, how he and Tommy would joke about sitting on the porch, cleaning their guns if she brought a boy home. He’s pretty sure he just saw Ezra’s version of that in action.

“The hell did you say to them?” he growls when they’re away from the crowd.

“ Moi ? Nothing untoward. I simply asked after Luke’s intentions toward our…my…toward Cee.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says, unconvinced.

“And then I had a…chat…with this Luke boy.”

“Worse than the damn toddler,” Joel grumbles. “Gotta follow you everywhere just to keep you from gettin’ in trouble.”

Ezra sulks, but he promises to leave the kids alone for the rest of the evening—an easy promise to make now that Cee appears to have abandoned the party.

The last of New Year’s Eve passes with conversation and music and the heat of the fire on their faces. Joel nurses his bottle of cider and keeps to the edges while Ezra wanders and returns to his side every so often. At some point, glittering trails of light appear in the distance, writing nonsense patterns against the dark. Apparently, twenty-year-old sparklers do still light.

Eventually, Ezra returns and tucks into Joel’s side for warmth, wrinkling his nose as someone on the music crew strums an off-key rendition of Prince’s 1999 .

“You should be up there,” Ezra nudges him, nodding toward the makeshift band.

“Hell’s gotta freeze over first,” Joel says.

“If hell were going to freeze over, Jackson would be the place to do it,” Ezra mutters, shivering a little despite the heat of the fire. 

“S’nice, though,” Joel murmurs, low enough for only Ezra to hear. “Glad you talked me into it.”

The countdown begins at ten seconds to midnight. The crowd watches as the new flag ascends to its place in the square and the design is pretty tame for Marnie’s work. The silhouette of a bison stitched onto a canvas backdrop, quilted from dozens of scraps of fabric representing the town’s diverse citizenry. Tomorrow they’ll examine it up close and see remnants from blankets, shirts, and even a scrap from last year’s flag—pieces of cloth that have likely touched every single resident at one point or another. It reaches the top of the pole just as they welcome in the new year with raucous cheers and the ringing of bells and a chorus of Auld Lang Syne .

But Joel has stopped watching the flag ceremony, unmoved by the din, head turned instead to watch his partner in the firelight. And when the final cheer rises up, he’s waiting and ready to take his kiss. More chaste than their exchange this morning, but still a balm to Joel’s heart.

“Happy New Year, songbird,” Ezra murmurs when they pull apart, and Joel thinks there might be something to his words of hope earlier, because his eyes are the slightest bit wet. He’ll blame the smoke from the fire and the single cider he finished an hour ago.

Then Ellie’s voice rises above the din, the shrill, angry note turning Joel’s stomach and tightening his jaw before he can spot her.

“Say it again, motherfucker!”

She’s squared off with someone on the other side of the fire, blurred by the heat haze. Joel is moving toward them without thought, following the sound of Seth McLeland and his big drunk mouth. Ellie is still tiny for her age, barely coming up to Seth’s shoulder, but she’s solid on her feet and her opponent sways like a tree in the wind.

“I said,” Seth spits, slurring his words, “m’surrounded by a buncha fuckin’ faggots.”

“Ellie, c’mon–” Dina is coming over, but Joel gets there first.

“You piece of sh–”

“C’mon, kid, he ain’t worth it,” Joel grits out, grabbing Ellie by the arm just as she’s winding up to take a swing.

“Joel,” she hisses, turning on him. “He said–”

“I heard what he said, but he’s drunk as a fuckin’ skunk and he’ll get what’s comin’ to him. Ain’t worth your time or mine.”

Seth snarls. “Used to be this was a decent town. Can’t go ten feet without seein’ this…this rainbow gay shit all over the fuckin’ place.”

“Perhaps I can help mediate?” Ezra pipes up, and Joel glares at him, still hoping to stave off a Miller family brawl with the town’s notoriously homophobic jackass. Ignoring Joel’s silent plea, Ezra steps up to Seth with a smile that’s more predatory than friendly, leans in, and whispers something into the other man’s ear. Joel waits, still holding Ellie by the arm, watching closely. Seth’s face twists in a sneer, then he ducks his head with the air of someone shamed.

“What do you say, my good man?” Ezra says, still smiling his shark-tooth smile, clapping Seth roughly on the shoulder. “Let’s say you call it a night and we all forget this ever happened, hmm?”

And whatever he said, it looks like that might have done the trick. Seth grunts a wordless response, and Ezra turns away.

But then Seth sneers under his breath, the slur unmistakeable. “Turn tail and run, fag.”

The crunch of the man’s nose breaking under Joel’s fist is the most satisfying thing he’s felt all damn day.

~*~

“My hero,” Ezra says drily, when they’re back at home and he's tending to Joel’s bruised knuckles at the kitchen table. He definitely aggravated the old hairline fracture; his hand is going to ache for weeks. Thankfully Maria and two others intervened before Seth could throw a punch, so that’s the worst of the damage.

Worth it , Joel thinks.

“Wish you’d let me hit him first,” Ellie sulks from her perch on the counter.

“Better me than you if someone’s gonna get in trouble for fightin’,” Joel says. “‘Sides, I’m stronger. He ain’t gonna be able to breathe out his nose for a month.”

“Rude,” Ellie says, but a smirk pulls at the corner of her lips.

“I had hoped we might extract ourselves without it coming to fisticuffs,” Ezra says pointedly. “But your Joel here couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.”

“He’s only mine when he’s behaving,” Ellie supplies, hopping off the counter with a yawn. “He’s all yours tonight, Ez.”

Joel gives her a look, but she just pats him on the shoulder on her way out the door. “Great start to the year, dudes.”

“Fucker was overdue,” Joel grumbles when she’s gone, then remembers Ezra’s failed intervention. “The hell’d you say to him, anyway?”

“Oh, I know all sorts of dirty little secrets about the people in this town, songbird,” he says, eyes glittering. “Just went through my mental rolodex of contenders with regards to our dear friend Seth and found the sweet spot. The one thing that might ruin him should it get out.”

“And what might that be?”

“It’d be unethical to share, I’m afraid,” Ezra says, feigning a pout.

“And blackmail ain’t?”

“Mmm, I am not aware of any such laws on the books regarding blackmail. And in the case of blatant hate speech at a family function? I don’t think the fine members of the Jackson council will revoke my license in this particular situation.”

“You don’t have a license,” Joel grumbles.

“My point exactly,” he grins, finishing the wrap on Joel’s hand. “There, that should hold. The next time you feel the need to defend my honor, try to use the un broken fist. I can give you some tips on throwing a punch with your left. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Wasn’t just about you,” Joel says, flexing his busted hand with a grimace. “We’re not the only ones. Kids shouldn’t have to hear that shit.”

“Yes,” Ezra sighs, rubbing the back of Joel’s hand with his thumb. “I can’t argue with your logic or your sense of common decency, cher , it’s perfectly sound. I just wish you didn’t need to come to physical harm in the process.”

“I can take it,” he says, standing and stretching, heading for the stairs. “Did you find out what happened with Cee?”

“I…no. What with all the evening’s drama, I didn’t catch up with her. I suspect she went home.”

“Hmm.”

They leave it at that while they get ready for bed, the kind of mundane routines that still surprise Joel despite having lived together for most of the year. Two toothbrushes by the sink, two razors, and the mouthwash Ezra likes. A stack of books on each nightstand, half a closetful of clothes, and a slew of record albums on the dresser. Joel isn’t sure when he started thinking of it as their home, not his home, but it probably has something to do with the little box in his nightstand drawer.

“Do you think I’ve been too harsh with her, songbird?” Ezra asks as they’re getting into bed. For all his earlier bravado and posturing, he seems deflated now.

“No,” Joel sighs. “Think you’re tryin’ your best, same as the rest of us. Prob’ly been a bit hard on that Luke kid, though.”

“I admit, I’m…I’m probably not at my most objective when it comes to Cee,” he frowns.

“She’s on the patrol roster,” he says, flicking off the lamp. “Maybe I can pair up with her next time we’re on the same shift, see if we can talk it out.”

“You would do that?” Ezra brightens. “Perhaps she’d listen to you. Or…talk to you, at least. I’m not always her first choice.”

“Chasin’ her off tonight prob’ly didn’t do you any favors,” he sighs. “But yeah…I can try.”

“Thank you,” Ezra murmurs, slipping his arm around Joel’s waist.

“‘Course,” he says. They stay like that for a while, Ezra’s head on Joel’s shoulder, fingers tracing the scars that litter his chest and stomach.

“You know,” Ezra murmurs into Joel’s ear. “I hesitate to say anything in the interests of preventing future encounters, songbird, but…there is a certain… je ne sais quoi to watching the man you love brutalize a raging homophobe.”

“Yeah?” Joel snorts. “That do it for ya?”

“Mmm.”

And Joel can feel exactly what it does for him, a certain familiar insistence at his hip. He turns over, met with those dark brown eyes, remembers them lit by firelight, and presses his lips to Ezra’s. Soon they’re panting, Ezra breaking the kiss to huff the words into Joel’s mouth between kisses.

“I…presume you’re still a bit…sore…after yesterday’s…endeavors…”

“I think we can figure somethin’ out.”

And they do.

~*~

A few days later, Joel goes to the stables early to check the patrol schedule. Cee did her training over the spring and summer so she was still considered a junior patroller, but winter patrols were perfect for that. The cold and snow made it difficult for humans and infected alike, making for shorter, less eventful runs and good practice for those with less experience. Joel re-jigs the schedule to put himself with Cee that morning, figuring a few hours on horseback might give them a chance to talk.

If Ellie arrived in Jackson like a feral cat ready to scratch and bite, Cee was more the type to hide in the back of a closet. She was skittish and less inclined to socialize, not unlike Joel himself. They both liked their space, but that meant he and Cee didn’t have Ezra and Ellie’s easy friendship. They’d shared a few conversations here and there, usually over family meals, but little else.

The weather is clear, and the ride to the north ridge passes in comfortable quiet. Joel doesn’t broach the subject until they’re close to returning to Jackson. At least if it goes bad, they’ll only have to suffer for a few miles.

“Hey, so, uh…how’re things goin’ with that guy you’re seein’? Luke, right?”

Cee glares at him. “Did Ezra put you up to this?”

“He didn’t, I swear,” Joel says. “This…this was my idea. I think he’s bein’ a little overprotective, myself.”

“A little?” she huffs.

Joel bites his lip on a smile. “Alright…maybe more than a little.”

“To answer your question, things are fine with Luke,” she says tersely. “They would be better if Ezra wasn’t intent on making a complete ass of himself every time he sees us together. But I can’t seem to get that through his thick skull.”

“Yeah, I…I noticed.”

“I don’t get why he’s being such a dick about it,” she says after they’ve ridden a little further. “I’m almost twenty-one. It’s like…it’s like he still sees me as this little kid.”

Joel clucks his tongue. “You spend long enough protectin’ someone…that’s a hard habit to break. He’s lookin’ out for you the best way he knows how.”

“I don’t need looking after, though.”

“I know. An’ I think he does, too, even if he won’t admit it,” he says. “It’s more about him than you, kiddo. He…he worries he’s not doin’ right by you. Worries he’s not…enough.”

“He’d be doing better if he’d just back off a little,” she scoffs.

“Yeah, I reckon he would,” he agrees. “Ezra’s stubborn, but…he’ll get there. Just has to do things on his own time.”

Cee frowns as they ride on, loping across the frigid landscape.

“I had a thought,” Joel continues. “Might not be the most comfortable way of doin’ things, but…what if we invited you and Luke to supper? Maybe give y’all a chance to, uh, talk. When Ellie an’ I were new here and things were…rocky…with Maria, Tommy had us over every week. Was pretty awkward at first, but then we kinda fell into a routine with it.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds painful.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, it don’t sound like a good time to me, either. But it shows Ezra you’re willin’ to meet him halfway. And he’ll probably come around if he can see how much Luke cares about you.”

She doesn’t answer for a while and that suits Joel fine. He relaxes his attention a fraction and enjoys the ride, the crunch of snow under the horse’s hooves, the biting January air. They’re almost home, well within the safest part of Jackson’s territory.

“Okay,” she sighs finally. “We can try the dinner thing…I guess.”

“Yeah? Alright then. It’s a deal,” he says. “An’ it prob’ly goes without sayin’, but…if that kid ever lays a hand on you in the wrong way, it won’t just be Ezra he has to answer to. Understood?”

She smiles her shy, subdued smile. “I know. Thanks.”

“I mean that. You’re family. If anything happens–“

“I get it, I do, but he’s…he’s sweet,” she blushes, looking down at her hands on the reins. “He’s…careful. And kind. He writes. And we like the same books and music and…I dunno. I guess I just feel this…connection with him that I haven’t felt before. I never had the chance. Feels like I’m making up for lost time when I’m with him…y’know?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, thinking of Ezra. “Yeah, I do.”

“I wish Ez would just relax about it,” she sighs. “Like with you and Ellie.”

Joel blinks in surprise, thinking “relaxed” is not exactly how he’d describe his relationship with Ellie. But he doesn’t have a chance to question it before she continues.

“I mean, you’re not all on her case about…oh.”

She trails off with a faint squeak, going stiff in the saddle and jerking the reins. The horse rears and hesitates, sensing her rider’s distress, and Cee has to soothe and shush the animal to get her back on track.

“On her case about what?” Joel asks once the horse has settled.

Cee’s words come out in a rush. “Nothing. It’s nothing, I–I mean…nothing.”

“Wait, Cee…is Ellie…is Ellie seein’ someone?”

“No! No. She’s…she’s not…I didn’t say that,” she sputters, cheeks flushed.

“But you said–”

The gates are in sight and she’s brought the horse to a trot, pulling ahead of him. “Race you back!”

“Hey, hold up!”

But she’s already closing the gap between him and Jackson, waving the red flag to signal their reentry as she leaves Joel in her dust. By the time he rides through the gates, she’s abandoned her horse to the care of one of the stablehands and disappeared. It had gone so well, too; Cee said more words in the last half hour than she’d probably said to him in the last two years.

Goddamned skittish cat , Joel thinks miserably.

He’s still processing their conversation as he walks back from the stables. His chest goes tight as he considers the implications, remembering his seventeen-year-old self, carefree and reckless to a fault. He thinks of the steady rotation of condoms in his wallet and two lines on a pregnancy test. Fuck, they’ve never even talked about this and god knows what bullshit they taught in FEDRA school.

He’s been Ellie’s guardian for three years and he doesn’t even know if she’s on birth control.

This swirling mass of emotions is not assuaged as he approaches the house. Ellie’s garage apartment is unusually dark for this time of day. She’s probably just out with her friends , he tells himself, but the uncertainty churning in his gut leads him to knock on her door.

No response.

He’s raising his hand to knock again when he hears a noise. It’s faint, but not faint enough to escape his poor hearing.

“Ellie?”

Muffled sounds from within, but no response. The hair on the back of his neck prickles.

“Ellie, I’m comin’ in–”

“NO! Don’t!”

His hand snaps back from the doorknob at the sound of her voice, relieved to know she’s safe inside…and yet, not. “You alright, kid?”

“I’m…fine! It’s fine!”

“You don’t sound fine.”

More muffled sounds, a thud, then scraping and shuffling. And…giggling?

“I’m comin’ in,” he growls, but the doorknob turns under his hand and Ellie appears, face emerging from the darkened slit of her barely opened door.

“Don’t,” she pants. “I’m…I’m fine. There’s…I’m just…I was tired and needed to…rest before dinner.”

“You’re not gettin’ sick, are you?”

Another noise. Definitely a giggle. Not from Ellie.

Her ponytail is down, hair curling in wild wisps around her flushed face.

Her shirt is inside out.

She shoots a frantic look over her shoulder at the source of the giggles and offers Joel a weak smile. He puts two and two together just as Cat appears at the door clad in nothing but jeans and a sports bra, equally flushed and tousled.

Joel turns on his heel because he sure as hell doesn’t need to see more.

“I’m…you’re…I’m gonna…go,” he chokes out.

Ezra is sitting on the couch with his book when Joel stumbles in on wooden legs, looking up in alarm at Joel’s shell-shocked expression.

“What happened?”

“Ellie’s…uh…Ellie’s with a girl. With Cat.”

Ezra’s brow furrows. “And…?”

“I, uh…I almost…walked in on ‘em,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Together. Christ.”

“Oh–OH,” Ezra says, eyes widening in understanding. “You mean with -with?”

“With-with,” Joel echoes dully.

His partner slowly closes the book and sets it on the coffee table. “Well that’s…an interesting development.”

Joel trudges over, not bothering to take off his jacket or boots, and sits heavily on the other side. “You didn’t know about this?”

“On my honor, songbird, I hadn’t the faintest inkling of a romantic entanglement on the part of our young prodigy. Are you…certain?”

Joel fixes him with a wordless stare.

“I see,” he murmurs. “Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Joel groans and sinks further into the couch, rubbing at his face with both hands. “Go ahead an’ get it over with, then.”

“I don’t follow.”

Another wordless stare.

Ezra tsks and smirks at his lap. “Come now, cher , I’d like to think I’m a bigger man than that. And ‘I told you so’ is such an unattractive turn of phrase.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel grunts. “So Ellie, uh…she likes…girls?”

Ezra’s face takes on a pinched expression that Joel has become all too familiar with in their time together. 

“But you knew that already,” he sighs. “Christ, do I even wanna know how long?” 

“She…may have sensed a kindred spirit in me early on.”

“How early are we talkin’?”

“I believe it was our sixth appointment or thereabouts,” Ezra has the decency to wince.

Joel balks. “You’ve…you’ve known for two fuckin’ years ?”

Ezra gives an apologetic shrug.

“How the hell’d I miss it?” he murmurs.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart, cher ,” Ezra says, reaching over to rub a soothing hand up and down Joel’s arm. “I suspect it’s only recently become something important to the development of her identity. Her first foray into a romantic endeavor, so to speak. It’s natural she’d want to keep it…close for a while. You might recall you were hesitant at first.”

“Yeah…yeah, I s’pose. Jesus. Even Cee knew,” he mutters.

“You spoke with Cee?”

“Yeah,” Joel sighs. “Switched patrol partners for the day so we could talk. Rode up to the ridge and back.”

“Any…insights you might be willing to share?” he asks hopefully.

“We’re gonna invite Cee and Luke over for supper.” 

Ezra blinks. “That’s…not exactly what I had in mind when you suggested a conversation.”

“We’re gonna invite the kids over, and we’re gonna get to know him, and you’re gonna behave. He ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” he says pointedly. “So if you wanna keep her around, you’re gonna have to figure out how to get along.”

~*~

Ellie storms in the next morning, cheeks flaming, and flops down on the couch without further greeting.

“Let’s get it over with,” she says.

Joel takes a sip of his coffee, thankful it’s still the good stuff because god knows he either needs to be caffeinated or drunk for this conversation, and it’s way too early for a stiff drink. “An’...what are we gettin’ over?”

“Y’know. The usual.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific or let the coffee kick in, kid, ‘cause you’re not makin’ a lick of sense.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush. “You lay into me, tell me I’m being a fuckin’ idiot or whatever, and then we talk about our stupid feelings and I tell you I have no idea what I’m doing and you make me feel better by reminding me that you’re here for me no matter what and then you ground me for like half of forever or until I’m forty, whichever comes first.”

He bites back a smile. “Seems like you’ve already parented yourself. My work here is done.”

“Ugh, dude, stop putting it off and just tell me how bad it is already.”

He walks over and settles into the chair in the living room with a muffled groan.

“So…how long have you an’ Cat been, uh…datin’?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nobody dates , Joel. It’s not dating, we just…hang out.”

“Alright, so how long have you been ‘hangin’ out?’”

“A few weeks,” she shrugs.

“And you didn’t think you could tell me…why?”

“I didn’t tell you because Ezra’s been really fucking weird about Luke, and I figured you’d be on my ass and be all scary to Cat and I don’t want to…to mess it up.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning forward. “Okay, I get that.”

She narrows her eyes. “So…that’s it? You’re not pissed at me? I’m not, like, grounded until I’m forty?”

“Would it stop you from seein’ Cat?” he asks wryly.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. No, I’m not pissed at you for, uh…’hangin’ out’ with someone…like that. Just want you to be safe about it, is all.”

“I feel like there’s a big-ass ‘but’ coming up.”

Joel snorts. “Honestly, kid, I dunno what I’m doin’ here. I never…Sarah never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, far as I know. Hell, we had the, uh, talk when she was twelve, an’ that was–”

“Awkward as fuck?” Ellie shudders. “Please don’t. I know how all that stuff works.”

“Good,” he says quickly. “Good. But…there’s more to it than just…the mechanics. There’s, uh, protection, and–”

“Ugh, gross, man,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I know about…all of it. And we’re being safe. Promise.”

Joel sighs, biting his lip. “What I’m gettin’ at is…is she good to you?”

“What, does she like, bring me flowers and chocolates and shit?” Ellie says.

“No. I mean, maybe, if that’s what you like. But what I’m tryin’ to say is…in a relationship…like that…you want someone who’ll bring out the best in you. Someone who loves you for you, not what you can do for ‘em, y’know? Someone who…has your back. It ain’t just about the material stuff.”

Ellie arches an eyebrow in a silent what the fuck, dude?

“It’s…it’s a hard time to grow up,” he tries. “It’s always hard growin’ up, I guess, but…it’s especially hard now. You’ve seen things that no kid should have to see, done things no one should have to do. That…scars a person. Makes ‘em see things a certain way. An’ a lot of the people you’ll love are walkin’ around with similar…stuff. Am I makin’ any sense?”

“About as much as you usually do,” she sighs, but she’s smiling in that way that tells him he’s getting through.

“It took me twenty years of fightin’ to get to the point where I could…um. Where I could love someone…like that…again. An’ I want you to know you don’t have to…settle for anything you don’t want. I know you prob’ly haven’t had a lot of…examples…”

Ellie seems to consider this for a minute, looking at her lap as she speaks softly. “Cat’s good. She’s…we’re good. You don’t have to worry.”

Joel huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m always gonna want to protect you. Keep you safe. That don’t just mean infected or raiders or…or bad people. Sometimes it’s about protectin’ your heart, too.”

She wrinkles her nose and fakes a gag, and he can’t resist reaching over to tousle her hair.

“Yeah, alright, enough of the mushy stuff. You’re not in trouble, kid.”

“That’s nice for a change,” she smiles. She’s making to leave when he has another thought.

“Oh, um…I hope you didn’t think I’d be mad it’s…another girl. ‘Cause I’m not. That’s…you’re, uh…you love who you love an’ all that.”

“Why would you be mad?” she asks, brow furrowing, then her eyes widen in understanding. “You didn’t know?”

“Uh…I guess I–are we talkin’ about the same thing?”

“You mean that I’m gay?”

“Yeah, uh…that.”

“Dude, I didn’t tell you because I thought you already knew,” she laughs. “You seriously had no idea?”

“How would I know somethin’ like that?” he grumbles.

She throws up her hands. “I dunno! Gay-dar or whatever!”

“That ain’t a thing.”

“Oh it totally is, and yours is broken ,” she says. “Besides, even if it wasn’t totally fuckin’ obvious–and it is–I figured Ezra would have said something forever ago.”

“We don’t talk about you like that, kiddo. Wouldn’t be right.”

“Wow,” she breathes, then laughs again. “I can’t believe you really didn’t know.”

“You can quit rubbin’ it in any time,” he mutters.

She grins. “What can I say? I’m a chip off the ol’ block, emphasis on the old .”

“Alright, alright,” he says, chuckling. “Ease up, I get it. I’m out of touch.”

“ So out of touch,” she grins, but her words carry an easy affection. “Ancient history. A fucking dinosaur.”

“You love dinosaurs,” he reminds her.

“Yeah…I guess I do.”

“Hey, uh…before you go. We’re havin’ Cee and Luke over for supper next week. Maybe you wanna invite Cat? Make it a family thing?”

“Not a fucking chance, dude,” she says easily, then ducks her head. “We’re not…there yet.”

“Alright,” he nods. “I get it.”

“But I will be there,” she adds, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t miss that shitshow for the world.”

~*~

He decides on pasta because it’s quick and filling and something he can’t easily fuck up. Joel is ready to open one of the jars of summer tomatoes for marinara, but Ezra intervenes, insisting that a cream sauce is faster and less prone to staining.

“Preferably with lots of garlic,” he mutters. “To discourage kissing.”

“They ain’t vampires, Ez,” Joel says, but he lets Ezra take over dinner preparations. He’s the better cook, anyway.

When Cee and Luke show up, shuffling their feet and offering a plate of cookies, Joel has to elbow a tight thank you out of Ezra, and it doesn’t get much better when the food is served.

They crowd five people around a table that’s made for four and Jesus fuck , it’s awkward. Joel wonders if this is how Frank and Tess felt watching him and Bill snarl at each other over wine and roasted rabbit. Unfortunately, this party doesn’t have the benefit of Bill’s curated wine selection or Frank’s natural aptitude for hosting.

Cee stares at her plate and pushes her food around, Luke looks slightly green, Ezra glares and takes tense sips from his beer, and Ellie props her chin on her hands and takes it all in with a smile, occasionally asking pointed questions designed to stir the pot. Joel has to kick her under the table twice.

But somehow, they get on the topic of music. As it turns out, Luke plays guitar and writes songs and poetry. And when they settle in the living room to peruse Ezra’s impressive album collection, Ezra is smiling and chattering enthusiastically about some obscure indie punk band from the 90s, and Luke is looking slightly less inclined to flee.

Eventually, Joel excuses himself and tugs at the hood of Ellie’s sweatshirt, nodding toward the kitchen.

“C’mon. Need help with the dishes.”

She rolls her eyes but follows him willingly enough. They stand together at the sink; he washes, she dries. And when the kitchen is clean and it’s clear the other three are still wrapped up in discussion, Joel ushers Ellie quietly outside to let them continue undisturbed. They go to her little garage apartment, and he sits in the chair and she perches, cross-legged, on the bed. They have the kind of conversation they used to before Jackson, when they were on the road and it was just the two of them around a campfire.

She tells him about her art, about Shimmer, about Jesse and Dina’s on-again-off-again relationship. He tells her about the time he and Tommy got caught egging his social studies teacher’s house on Halloween, then immediately regrets it when she asks where she might procure some extra eggs.

And then it’s getting late, and Joel tips his head back and closes his eyes and they drift in a comfortable shared silence. When Ellie speaks again, her tone is soft and thoughtful, almost shy.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about Cat and me…I know it’s a different time, and we haven’t had…a lot to look to. But…we have you and Ez.”

“Oh…yeah?” Joel croaks out, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. Ever since Ellie came into his life, his heart might as well be emblazoned in flashing neon pink on his sleeve.

She smirks, fidgeting with the corner of her comforter, eyes downcast. “Yeah. You two set a pretty high bar.”

Joel looks at her, his girl, their girl, and swallows hard around the lump in his throat. 

“I–oh…”

He’s interrupted by the sight of the front door opening back at the house. They watch through the window like nosy neighbors as Cee and Luke emerge onto the porch with Ezra behind them.

“Well, Luke appears to have all his extremities,” Ellie says as Joel draws up alongside her to get a better view, breath fogging the window pane. “And no one’s yelling. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Sure hope so,” he murmurs.

The three of them talk for a minute, then Ezra pulls Cee into a hug, and the young couple turns to leave. Ezra stands on the porch, watching them go with a wave. Then he turns slightly and cocks his head, squinting until he’s looking directly at Joel and Ellie in the garage window. Even at this distance, Joel can make out his partner’s arched brow before he shakes his head and disappears back into the house.

“Oops,” Ellie giggles. “Caught.”

Joel can’t help but laugh a little himself before they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. He goes to answer and finds Cee on the other side, already pink-cheeked from the cold. Luke hangs back, offers a tentative wave from the end of the driveway.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Everythin’ go alright?”

Cee nods, and before he can speak, she’s leaned in and wrapped him in a hug. “Thanks, Joel.”

“It’s, uh…s’no problem. You’re always welcome, y’know. Both of you,” he adds.

He leans in the doorway and watches them disappear around the end of the cul-de-sac. Ellie joins him, tucking herself under his arm in a rare moment of affection, bumping him with her hip.

“Not bad for an old man who’s shit at talking about feelings,” she says.

“There’s hope for me yet,” he agrees.

He says goodnight and returns to the house. Ezra is sitting at the kitchen table sipping a beer, waiting for him.

“Well, out with it, then,” Ezra says, all feigned annoyance, easing back in his chair.

“With what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, surely you’ve earned your ‘I told you so’.”

“I’d never,” Joel smirks. “S’an ‘ugly turn of phrase.’”

“The mark of a gentleman,” Ezra says, thumbnail scratching absently against the ridge of the bottle. “Though I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude for helping me see the light, songbird. I was too quick to judge and too harsh in my estimations. Luke is…an acceptable mate for our birdie. As long as he continues to treat her well, I don’t foresee us coming to blows.”

“Let’s hope it don't come to matin’ for a few years yet, either,” Joel says.

Ezra snorts and stands. He wanders to the sink to deposit the dregs of his beer, thoughtful, eyes darkening.

“But if he so much as mars a hair on our young gem’s blonde head, songbird, mark my words…there will be no force in heaven or earth that could save him from the pain I will inflict.”

It’s an all too familiar sentiment. Joel sighs and moves to Ezra’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“If that happens,” he breathes, letting his lips graze the shell of Ezra’s ear, “I’ll be there with the shovel.”

~*~

The next day, Joel’s evening patrol duty gets cut short by an incoming blizzard, and he comes home early, stomping the fresh fallen snow off his boots, shaking the stuff out of his hair. They’ll be snowed in tonight, but Joel can think of worse ways to spend an evening.

Music drifts from the record player in the living room, something soft; he places it after only a couple of seconds— Songbird . A fire crackles in the fireplace, emitting a soft light and a steady heat that prickles Joel’s wind-burned cheeks. He finds Ezra sprawled on the couch, fast asleep on his back, head pillowed on his arm. His book lays face down and open on his chest, reading glasses having fallen to the floor. His t-shirt has ridden up to reveal a stripe of warm caramel skin and a trailing vine of dark curls peeks over the waist of his jeans, sending a heat up the back of Joel’s neck that has nothing to do with the fire.

That feeling is back, the usual aching want and the new thing, the softer thing he hasn’t named but can no longer deny. He thinks of Ellie’s words and knows instinctively what comes next. He wants this, he wants them , for as long as he has left.

We have you and Ez. You two set a pretty high bar.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he climbs the stairs and goes to the bedroom, heart a frantic staccato in his ears. The little blue box is still in the back of the nightstand drawer. His hand shakes slightly as he pulls it from its hiding place, fumbling to take off the lid, pouring the contents into his palm. The result of a spare moment of exploration on a scavenging run and a whim born of hope, a pair of dark brown eyes, and a cocky, boyish grin.

He clutches it tightly, pausing only for a second to take a breath, steadying himself before he heads back downstairs.

He kneels beside the couch, picking up the reading glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on the coffee table. With the same care, he reaches out and draws a thumb along the crescent scar on Ezra’s cheek, down the line of his jaw, reveling in the familiar scratch of scruff, running over the hidden dimple of his smile.

Ezra stirs at his touch, blinking slowly awake.

“Songbird,” he whispers, a sleepy smile blossoming on his face. “You’ve returned.”

“Hey,” he rasps, throat tight. In the background, the record plays on, the first strains of I know you by heart fill the room. Joel doesn’t know what to say.

“I—“

Ezra waits, patient as always, blinking up at him with a love that makes it hard for Joel to breathe, let alone speak.

“I thought—I found these…a while ago an’ I—“

He’s holding out the offering in a closed fist but he’s so overcome he can’t bring himself to uncurl his damn fingers.

Then Ezra’s hand covers his, gentle but curious, reminding him to relax his grip. He does, revealing two identical gold bands. Joel can’t pull his eyes away from Ezra’s face, hoping to find the answer in the arc of his smile or the tear at his lash line, terrified he will see neither of those things, or maybe terrified he will.

But Ezra doesn’t even see the rings. One fingertip lightly grazes gold, dips in to touch the center of Joel’s palm. Then he’s surging up, hand cupping the back of Joel’s neck and pulling him close, noses brushing, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

He shudders a single word against Joel’s lips, sealing the vow and their future with a kiss.

“Yes.”

[chubphoe-linkclick]

People like to point to a lot of random scenes in Link Click to justify why ShiGuang being romantic is canon. Now, I'm not the creator of Link Click, I have no authority on the subject. So most the time, it's a "lets agree to disagree" situation.

However, there is one scene from Episode 1 that I find down-right offensive for people to point to as evidence of Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang being an item:

There is no doubt that this scene is incredibly beautiful and loving, but romance isn't what makes this scene beautiful, nor is it what makes the bond they share so touching and engaging to watch. The fact that they honest-to-God love and care about each other is.

What makes this particular scene really lovely is information we're given later in the show. Its full tenderness only clicks in hindsight once we know more about the characters and Cheng Xiaoshi's past. Specifically, when we understand more about how their powers work and the tragic fact that Xiaoshi is (effectively) an orphan.

So we need to back up a few steps.

The scene begins with us seeing Emma dreaming about her parents, and we eventually see a visual representation of how Cheng Xiaoshi is also experiencing this dream as her, taking on her feelings.

Then there's her parents leaving, metaphorical for how out of her life they are now and how much Emma misses her parents (duh).

The fun part comes from the fact that it's not Emma we see as a child at this point, but Xiaoshi. He is being left behind by his parents.

Look at this face. IT'S THE FACE OF PAIN, and for me it honestly didn't make sense why this dream was as emotionally impactful for him as it was (on my first watchthrough).

Afterwards Cheng Xiaoshi wakes up, and Lu Guang notices this. At times like this, I really appreciate the dub for localising what's being said better than the more literal subtitles (even though the dub definitely says some shit that just ain't true). The dub's word choices are:

LG: "You're up?" CXS: "I dreamt that I had spring rolls with my parents." LG: "Folks on your mind?" CXS: "Yeah, and they're on hers as well."

LG: "When you became her, you took on some of her feelings and her memories. It must be tough." CXS: "... I wonder if they'll come back."

and then Cheng Xiaoshi rolls over and starts hugging himself tightly because of the unbearable pain

It takes a hot second for Lu Guang to realise what Cheng Xiaoshi actually means by his statement, that the 'they' in question is his own parents rather than anyone in Emma's life. Naturally, Lu Guang understands that Cheng Xiaoshi is suffering immensely right now because Xiaoshi's being forced to feel the agonising hole is his life that came from the worst thing that ever happened to him.

And so, he reaches through time and space (metaphorically?) to comfort him, his all-time best friend and, yes, potential romantic partner, telling him that "It will work out, just rest." Because SWEET JESUS, WHO WOULDN'T TRY COMFORTING THEIR FRIEND IN THAT MOMENT!? WHO??

It's beautiful. It's sweet. It's loving. It shows how in-tune they are to each other and that they care about each other's well being. No macho shit here, only a wholesome connection that we are all jealous of and celebrate.

Bonus analysis: knowing Cheng Xiaoshi's emotional state at this point, his re-suffering of the pain from being separated from his parents, then makes the message from Emma's mother and his reaction to it all the more emotionally touching.

Maybe the reason he sent the reply "I miss you" wasn't even for Emma's sake in that moment, but a result of the line between his own loneliness and hers having become so blurred in that sleepy moment.

I'd just like to clarify again, if you think they're gay together: cool. If you think this scene is the reason why: not cool.

Romance isn't the highest form of love, and it's not gay or weird to love your friends. What Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang have is really beautiful, and I honestly don't think I've ever seen such a great depiction of two men who are so comfortably close to each other.

Whether their relationship is platonic or otherwise doesn't really matter here. What upsets me is the unhealthy elevation of romantic love as the most true and purest form of love over all other kinds -- that you can only care about someone this much and want them in your life ONLY if you want to marry them or something -- an idea that ends up hurting a lot of people.

Romance isn't what makes this scene beautiful, nor is it what makes the bond they share so touching and engaging to watch. The fact that they honest-to-God love and care about each other is.

[zeebreezin]

OC SMASH OR PASS

Tagged by @esteemed-excellency !!

First image by @gmalaart ! Other two by me :)

Name: August Shaw

Age: 44~

Gender: Nonbinary but he’s getting revenge rn and doesn’t have time to consider that

Sexuality: Bisexual

📚Propaganda For:

You will never find a more dedicated partner!!

Very generous, great gift giver who will give you the world if you asked.

Surprisingly witty sense of humor once he’s comfortable with a person.

Enjoys both the fancy displays of formal romance and quiet nights in the house.

Will kill cops for you frequently.

Easy to fluster!!

Will learn about your hobbies and take interest in them.

Gives fantastic hugs.

Can be charming in a sweet, classically romantic way.

Open and honest communicator*.

Canonically spent all his Monstrous Anatomy on gains on modifying his tongue, mouth, and throat to help with speaking nonhuman languages. So in the bedroom…

♟️Propaganda??:

Flirtation is a lowkey game to him. Fluster Shaw badly and expect to receive the same in kind soon enough. Will get ‘revenge’. Switchiest motherfucker ever known because of this.

Will set himself on fire to keep you warm.

Is more than happy to play a ‘role’ for his partners, but his dedication to the bit can get uncanny.

Has a bit of a possessive streak, less so in the way of wanting someone to exclusively want him, though.

Known sleep cuddler. Supernatural forces seem to intervene to make sure his partners wake up with their nose in his chest.

Oh yeah, the juxtaposition between how cold and ruthless this guy is at work versus how tender he is with his partners.

👁️Propaganda Against:

God where do we start.

Baseline nightmare of 5 at any given day.

IPA-itis :(

Takes such bad care of himself, all the time. If you don’t step up he may work himself into the dirt.

The guiltiest man alive!! Will hold self blame for any conflict! Takes him ages to forgive himself for any transgression, even ones verbally resolved.

Concerningly forgiving of his partner’s flaws and behaviours, to the point of enabling and/or self destruction on his own end.

Tends to drink a bit too much, extremely sad drunk.

*is a great communicator when it comes to things he thinks need to be talked about. His own issues tend to stay under lock and key for far too long.

Constantly getting into shit. Will always make the time, but he does work two jobs and freelances on top of it. A busy man.

Wild complexes about his own desires, poetry, violin music, and the colour red.

Not 100% over his ex wife emotionally but they’re never getting back together.

Consider yourself tagged if you wanna do one of these :)

[gilbirda]

gil gil gilgilgil gil gil.

i had

omg

i had the best

the best

Okay so.

Soulmate Identifying Marks AU

ANGER MANAGEMENT STYLE

i am

i need it.

(don't feel pressured i might write it myself but also might not but i had to throw the idea to you)

Fam.

You got it.

[Read on AO3]

------

Jason never actually cared about his soulmark. Really. Why bother? He was poor, his parents' relationship was shitty (he later learned they weren't soulmates and Catherine sold him a pretty lie), and his life was complicated enough to add romance.

Once he became a vigilante at the tender age of thirteen, he understood that love was a luxury, and that having a soulmate at this point was a liability more than a blessing. A curse, even. He envied Dick, who didn't have a soulmate mark, and who loved freely and without hesitation; he envied Bruce, who loved intensely and burned just as bright.

He just. He couldn't do it.

So he chose to ignore it. Sometimes he hated it, sometimes it felt like a shackle to a complete stranger, someone he was supposed to tie himself to-

(Someone that didn't belong in his world. Crimefighters and civilians were not a good idea.) - so he just scrubbed at the damn ink on his skin when he got pissed at it, and covered with long sleeved clothes when he wanted to ignore it.

And then he died.

He was surprised to discover his mark was still there after coming back to himself post-bathing in the Lazarus Pits. He lowkey had hoped his soulmate was free from the connection the moment his heart stopped beating. But it was still there.

It was a bird. Ironic.

A freaking bluejay.

It was still colorful, it has all the details, no matter what he did about the mark. His soulmate was still there on the other side, waiting, biding their time. He wondered if their mark became a black silhouette like it did when partners died. He wondered if that stranger was holding hope or gave up on him already.

(He hoped they did. Giving up on him was the best option.)

When years passed and he didn't find anybody with a matching tattoo, blacked out or not, he tried to forget about it again. Holding hope was useless, and he had more important things to do. Dick eventually stopped asking about it, when they were back on speaking terms. Bruce still gave it pained looks when he visited the Cave.

That's why when a woman sat down on his table and hid her face behind a binder, he didn't notice the picture on it at first glance.

"Hello?" He put down the cup of coffee and sat straighter. It was never a bad idea to be wary.

"Um." The woman lowered the binder enough to look around the quaint café. She turned and checked the window, but if there was someone there she wouldn't be seen. That's why Jason liked this table, it was the best strategic point. "Sorry, I..."

"Hiding from an ex?"

The woman rolled her eyes, setting the binder back on the table. "Try a creepy coworker."

She tried to downplay it, but by her body language she was more affected than what she let on. He was interested in her story immediately. No woman was going to be stalked on his watch.

"Did you try the police?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Police doesn't do shit in Gotham."

Her sharp tone and eyes made him smile immediately. "Have you tried kicking him in the nuts?"

The unknown woman arched an eyebrow and untied her tight bun, massaging her scalp for a second, revealing long natural red hair. Jason noticed her white shirt, so she may be coming back from work. An office? He wondered where she worked. He could try and find out and then identify this creepy coworker-

"Hard to do that when she doesn't have a pair of those." The woman snorted. "My stalker is a woman."

"My mistake. Have you tried kicking her anyway?"

She made a face as if she didn't know what to do with him, but laughed at his comment. He smiled back, glad to see her relax after the scare.

"Thanks. I really needed the laugh, stranger." She made a move to stand up. "I'll leave you alone now."

He nodded, making a note to follow her and find as much information as he could about this stalker.

His eyes wandered to the picture taped to the front of her binder.

A bluejay.

"Wait." He extended a hand, catching her-

It was like an electric current coursed through him, from the palm of the hand that touched her forearms to the tip of his toes. He knew she felt it too, because she froze where she stood, her eyes glued to his hand on her person.

He had to let her go, he knew, but he couldn't. He really couldn't. He knew what this meant, and yet he didn't want to believe.

"Where did you get that?"

It took a moment to come back to reality and process her words. She was looking at his arm, her free hand hovering over the hem of the jacket her had rolled up to be comfortable. The shape of the tail of the bird was in plain sight.

He could lie and say it was a tattoo. That he thought bluejays were cool. He could say so many things.

He didn't need to say any of those lies.

The woman put the binder back on the table and rolled up the sleeve of her sensible white shirt, on the same arm he had his mark. He knew what he would see, what he could see, but it didn't prepare him to the sight of the same bluejay shape blacked out.

"I cried for you. I felt you die."

Her eyes were haunted with memories. What could he say? What could he explain?

"I should have looked harder for you." She narrowed her eyes. "I knew I could still sense you, but I didn't want to hope..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"It's okay. People shouldn't be running around chasing ghosts." He understood her. Really. Holding hope for the impossible could be dangerous.

The woman smiled at his words, truly smiled, amusement morphing her expression like the turning of a page. She sat back down and extended her hand.

"Jasmine Fenton. Professional ghost hunter. Or was." She rolled her eyes. "I was taking a break now, actually."

Jason tried to gauge if she was joking. But she was completely serious.

Huh.

"Jason Todd." He shook her hand anyway, barely stopping when the electric current made an appearance again.

"Like the dead socialite?"

She did her homework.

"Yeah." It was his time to be amused. "Just like him."

He smiled back at her, and it felt right. Like coming back for air after being underwater for too long. Like feeling the sun warming your skin for the first time after a long winter.

He always found the soulmate talk boring, and in his darkest hours, pathetic. He would never experience that, and romance was for those that could afford it, so why care?

But now, touching her, seeing her smile and her teal eyes that hid many secrets, Jason decided that those people were very off about their descriptions - and very right at the same time.

So he just ignored everything he thought he knew about soulmates and tried to remember if he had the rest of his day free, since he apparently had a soulmate to get to know.

---

Hate the ending, might rewrite it.

Bone apple teeth.

Also I hc Jason as aspec if it wasn't obvious here.

Do you like my stuff? Buy me a Ko-fi!

[spacequokka]

Monsta X Kinks & Turn-Ons

@iibonniee​ Hide ya brain cells. I’m back with another kinky shit post that’ll likely end up with Monbebes throwing me in a closet.

Hyunwoo || Venus: Gemini, Mars: Taurus || Turn On: Control

Mr. Traditional. Likes fun and variety with witty conversation. He’s a sensual guy, but it takes a lot to get him going. Try harder, baby. He can be romantically impulsive. Likes to please and tease at his own place. Just give him the reins, you know you want to.

Minhyuk || Venus: Libra, Mars: Scorpio || Turn On: Foreplay

Mr. Idealistic. He’s willing to make your relationship by conceding and adjust his life to accommodate you. Loves to share everything with you, but don’t take advantage of it! Treats you exactly how he wants to be treated. Has a taste for mature partners. He’s a hopeless romantic who loves a challenge and finds it difficult to share his partners. Not saying he’s against it. Just might struggle to watch you. He’s attracted to “taboos” and wild fantasies, so share yours with him. Pretty sure he’s down to try it. He’s got stamina for days and enjoys submissive partners.

Kihyun || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Sagittarius || Kink: Shibari Bondage

Our resident kink master. He’s intense as fuck. That prince charming grin is a trap. “Isn’t afraid of getting his mind dirty.” Excuse me, wtf. Penny for his thoughts. Never gives up. “Strong sexual powers.” So he’s what, the Harry Potter of sex? I have several questions. He’s blunt and eager, amorous and sensual. We knew that tho. He tends to focus on his partner with laser precision and you know what requires that much attention to detail? Shibari. It’s its own art form and I can see him being a HUGE fan of it. He can get possessive to the point of jealousy if you don’t prove your loyalty to him. All the dom vibes. Fight me. Though he’s not incapable of giving you control once he feels secure enough in your relationship. Good luck.

Hyungwon || Venus: Capricorn, Mars: Capricorn || Turn On: Someone willing to ride

The Pillow Prince. He’s a realist and will be “upfront” with you. He’ll try to win you over by showing you he has self-control (it’s a trap) and likely bait you into doing most of the work. He’s a romantic looking for a soulmate, and when he thinks he’s found The One, you’ll see him exerting more of his precious energy. Shy but willing to commit. Wants to show you off in a quiet way. And the sex? Keep it nasty if you can.

Jooheon || Venus: Scorpio, Mars: Leo || Kink: Praise (Receiving)

No one is shocked by this. Has a strong need for a partnership. 🥺 Someone cuff him. Like Kiki, he gets possessive and makes it his mission to ruin you. Get you addicted to him through pleasure and commitment, body and soul. Sign me tf up. Wants to explore every inch of you, inside and out, but will guard his secrets until he feels he can trust you with them. Another guy prone to jealousy but it's because he’s so devoted to you and he’ll fight dirty to win your heart. Borderline nympho as he’s easily turned on (no fr, tell him he did a good job) and will give it to you anywhere (like, say the backseat of his car). Honey acts with his heart and goes all in.

Changkyun || Venus: Pisces, Mars: Aquarius || Turn On: The Art of Seduction

Our Lone Wolf favors instant gratification except when it comes to choosing a partner, even if it's just for one night. He’s straightforward (ofc), dreamy and soft-hearted. Can be sweetly playful when he starts to fall for you. He does have a Captain Save-a-Hoe complex so you gotta make sure he’s attracted to you and not your situation. Expect lots of tender moments and romance. Extra points if you’re older. Likes surprising you with his open-mindedness. Don’t just give in; make him work for it. He’ll delight you with his wit and determination and turn you out in bed.

Hoseok || Venus: Aries, Mars: Cancer || Kink: Breeding, Switch

Mr. Thirst Trap. This shameless flirt has a childish charm, and he uses it like a weapon. You will not survive. He loves to tease and is looking for an energetic partner to keep up with his stamina. Requires plenty of stimulation and likes to lead and please you. Just trust him. Reacts spontaneously and intensely to the Object of Obsessive Horniness and will make it known. Though he doesn’t want kids, he still gets a kick out of the thrill and possessiveness of stuffing you with cum. 

[itsclydebitches]

BG3 Fic Prompts

I am once again creating a massive document of fics I want to write, to be updated whenever. This is 50% me keeping track of ideas, 25% giving the fandom ideas if they want to steal, and 25% pure entertainment.

“She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety.” Six times Karlach carried a party member and one time the whole group returned the favor. Bonus points if carrying her is pre-insulation upgrade so they have to get creative and/or sacrificial about it.

~

Similarly, Karlach/Character of Choice in a Pushing Daisies-esque situation, except on steroids. It’s not just that they can’t touch her, they’ll actively burn themselves if they get too close (so no easy kiss-through-Saran-Wrap solutions). They make it work though through the power of love, magic, and a fuck-ton of stubbornness. Ideas can differ greatly depending on who the partner of choice is. Example: Lae’zel toughing it out while Shadowheart curses and sprints to heal her; Astarion leaning into his flirty cad side: “Gale? Summon me a mage hand so I can slap that ass.”

~

Because the Gale romance bug remains one of my favorite things: angsty fic where he—in true BG3 fashion—misinterprets the most basic, bare-bones decency as love because he’s a) been groomed by a goddess since he was a boy and then abandoned by her in a way that makes him feel completely worthless and b) locked in a tower for a year+ with only his cat for company. Writer’s choice whether this results in Tav rejecting Gale and leaving him with the bittersweet realization that they may not Love him, but they do love him and this helps forward Gale’s recovery. OR

Narrator: Lying awake that night, you think back on your talk with Gale. He looked so handsome in the candlelight, even while devastated by your rejection, and you dwell on how unfortunate it is that you don’t return his romantic feelings.

Hmm…or do you?

Oh dear.

~

That Githyanki egg is going to hatch if it’s the last thing I do, even if it’s only in fic. Cue the absolute chaos of this found family/polycule parenting. You’d think Lae’zel would be some help in this but no. She’s not. She’s really, really not. (Doctor McCoy voice: “I’m a warrior not a creche tender!”) What do they feed the thing? Who gets to decide their name? How young is too young to start teaching them to wield a dagger? Spoilers: Withers is a surprisingly good babysitter and the only one with a braincell to draw on.

Wyll: I want a baby

Astarion: Give me a week. What color?

Tav, walking in with acid burns and a panicked Lae’Zel: You got green

~

More Gale angst because I’m trash: Yeah, yeah literally everyone in this party is hella touch-starved but this boy has a year of isolation on top of a kicked puppy personality hidden under that arrogant bravado. Astarion plays his needs off with charm and a supposed obsession with sex, Wyll and Karlach distract with cheer, Shadowheart and Lae’zel stoically power through… and then there’s Gale who’s going to get teary-eyed at the first clasp of his shoulder. Character of Choice gives him a hug one night and he just breaks. Full on sobbing, hyperventilating, holy-shit-this-is-embarrassing-but-now-that-I’ve-started-I-can’t-stop breakdown that’s exactly what he needs. Halsin might be a good choice for this.

~

Forced Lae’zel / Shadowheart bonding via the specific experience of two abused ex-cult members figuring out what kindness looks like.

Lae’zel: Tchk. I failed our leader in battle and they say only, ‘We’ll try again next time’? If this were a githyanki camp my blood would have dyed their armor red tonight.

Shadowheart: Indeed. The disciples of Lady Shar never would have stood for such indolence. There are no beatings for failing to rise with the sun and no one monitoring our rations. Gale gave me thirds last night!

Lae’zel: Why then do I… prefer this weakness?

Shadowheart: Worse, why do I agree with you?

~

I want to give my companions presents! Six times Tav gives a party member something they love—a githyanki tablet for Lae’zel, good wine for Wyll, etc.—and one time they give Tav something back. Or, alternatively, one time Tav refrains from giving a gift and the recipient ends up appreciating that even more. Example: not letting Shadowheart get ahold of any Dark Justiciar armor.

~

Obligatory “Astarion is insecure about not being able to see his reflection and someone helps him with magic/drawing” fic that I may or may not be working on atm.

~

Equally obligatory The Last Unicorn reference where Asatrion has a rage-driven breakdown, screaming at Tav for not being this selfless hero when he needed them. Everyone ignores the realities that, you know, Tav probably hadn’t even been born yet, because they understand that Astarion just needs to Let It Out. This segues into reassurances that they’ll be there for Astarion in the future. End fic. Sike! Plot twist. The party winds up in the past due to plot shenanigans and are like, “Holy shit. We can rescue Astarion.” Except it turns out they can’t because that would totally fuck with the timeline (idk if that’s actually the case in D&D. I just watch a lot of Doctor Who), but they’re at least able to assist him in some small way/comfort him/give him hope for the next 100+ years. They wind up back in their own time where Astarion suddenly realizes that the absolutely insane, weird-as-balls group he met a century ago and whose kindness he's been leaning his sanity on is his group and there are ~emotions~.

~

Hurt/Comfort Bloodweave fic where Astarion, as the rogue, does the best job of finding (read: stealing) items for Gale to feed on. He’s really good at it, to the point that when they get together he starts to fear that’s the main reason why Gale is ‘bothering’ to stay with him. After all, what the hells else does he have to offer? Especially now that he’s pulling back from sex as a primary incentive? Someone loving Astarion for who he is? Absurd. Someone needing Astarion’s talents to keep themselves fed? That he understands. That’s familiar. Cue Gale cycling through obliviousness (necessary intervention from another party member?), horror, and finally reassurance.

~

Wyll teaches the party to dance one night when they’re all bored. Bonus points if Astarion is insulted af because his moves from two centuries ago aren’t cool anymore. Bonus bonus points if Withers turns out to be really good.

~

Honestly, I feel like we’ve been sleeping on Withers in general. Granted, I haven’t finished the game yet so I’m sure there’s stuff that hasn’t been revealed to me yet, but he’s a skeleton that randomly appears in your camp, makes himself at home, changes reality for you provided you've got the funds, tuts about your love life, and is surprisingly good with kids. There’s so much potential in that.

~

“I hate this place. I want to go to Build a Bear!” Total crack fic featuring the Faerûn equivalent of Build a Bear: a kindly toymaker with lots of simple stuffed animals that he’ll personalize for you with clothes, accessories, embroidery, etc. Karlach has the time of her life (as does everyone else, even if they won’t admit it).

[oh-nostalgiaa]

Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Six

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

20 Comforting Prompts

25 Delicate Things Lovers Do That I Adore Prompts

25 Romance Dialogue Prompts

25 Small But Comforting Gestures for Your OTP Prompts

25 Things That Get Me Flushed While I'm Reading Prompts

100 Non-verbal Prompts

102 Different Types of Kisses Prompts

A Hundred Types of Kisses Prompts

An Assortment of Dialogue Prompts

Angsty Kisses Prompts

Apologized To Sentence Starter Prompts

Assorted Sentence Starter Prompts

BDSM & Dom / Sub Smut Prompts

Bookstore AU Prompts

Bravery Sentence Starter Prompts

Caregiving Prompts

Comforting the Caretaker Prompts

Crying Starter Prompts

Cuddling for Warmth Prompts

Dancing Prompts

Dancing Prompts, Part Two

Established Relationship OTP Prompts

Exes to Lovers Dialogue Prompts

Feelings Are Complicated Dialogue Prompts

First Kiss Prompts

Fluffy Scenarios and Actions That Make My Heart Melt Prompts

Flower Language Prompts

Forbidden Love Prompts

Forehead Touch Prompts

Friends Prompts

Gentle Prompts

Gestures That Get Me Going Prompts

Grumpy x Sunshine Sentence Starter Prompts

Hard-to-Find Hurt / Comfort Sentence Starter Prompts

Harm Starter Prompts

Hero x Villain Dialogue Prompts

Hiding from Horror Dialogue Prompts

Hurt Starter Prompts

I Wanna Hold Your Hand Prompts

Inexperienced Smut Prompts

Intimacy in a Relationship Prompts

Intimate Romance Prompts

Intimate Thoughts Dialogue Prompts

Kissing Prompts

Life Savers Prompts

List of AU'S & Prompts

Loss and Lost Sentence Starter Prompts

Love & Leashes Prompts

Love Between the Lines Prompts

Lovers to Enemies Prompts

More Intense Vibes Prompts

More Protective Prompts

More Smut Sentence Starter Prompts

Music to My Ears Prompts

Navigating Murky Waters Prompts

Non-Sexual Affection Prompts

Non-Verbal Sexual Situations Prompts

Oh Shit, I'm in Love with You Prompts

Physical Romantic Gestures That Make Me Weak Prompts

Places for Kissing Prompts

Pregnancy Prompts

Prompts For Best Friends Forever

Prompts for Bodyguards & VIPS

Prompts for New Intimacy

Prompts for People Who Aren't Used to Kindness

Prompts for Suspicious Circumstances

Prompts for the Heavy Hearted

Prompts That Make Me Go Wide-Eyed

Protective Prompts

Protective Sentence Starter Prompts

Reactions to Getting Kissed Prompts

Reactions to the Other Getting Kissed Prompts

Reluctant Allies Prompts

Responses to Don't You Fucking Dare Die on Me Prompts

Responses to I'm Fine Prompts

Responses to What Are We? Prompts

Sacred Romantic Moments Prompts

Sacrificing Dialogue Prompts

Secret Relationship Dialogue Prompts

Scenario Prompts for Reassuring Your Partner

Shedding a Tear Prompts

Ship Request Prompts

Simple Actions Prompts

Something's Wrong Sentence Starter Prompts

Soulmate AU Prompts

Subtle Suggestive Smut Prompts

Sunshine x Grumpy Dialogue Prompts

Teacher x Teacher Prompts

Tender (Loving) Care Starter Prompts

Tender (Loving) Care Starter Prompts, Vol. II

Tender (Loving) Care Starter Prompts, Vol. III

Things Done While Dancing Prompts

Three Word Sentence Prompts

Types of Hugs Prompts

Types of Kisses Prompts

Unconventional AU's

Vulnerable Confessions Prompts

Vulnerable Sentence Starter Prompts

Ways to Respond to I Love You Prompts

[constantfragmentation]

In real life, do you think Id be difficult to have a serious relationship with Silco? I'm curious

Oh hell yes.

That man is nothing BUT difficult. My psychologist would have a field day dissecting him.

Even before the drowning, he has serious issues.

He's intelligent (self-taught more than anything) and knows it. That man has some serious rage and inferiority complexes to deal with. He doesn't like to be second. Vander taught him that. And that I'm in the mindset that Silco has always been the brains of the smuggling/revolution outfit.

Post drowning. My man has the biggest trust issues on the planet. You wrong him and you might as well just die because he'll kill you. He might mame first or find something that is worse than death, so yeah, don't cross him.

Silco values intelligence, patience, loyalty and yes, passion. He is very passionate about his core beliefs and I'm betting that passion is very much alive elsewhere. When he's in the mood, you better be too.

He can be a very generous lover. The skinny boys always packing the meat, and he also knows it. In the beginning it might be all about his pleasure but once he starts to give two shits, he will find ways to tease and please. Silco is also a bit of a sadist. He will draw that shit out until you're begging him.

Don't play coy or the tease with him. He doesn't have time for that bs.

He might play with you at first. See if you're worth more than some quick shags. Then he'll test you. Just how loyal are you? Little by little and this could take some time before he has the TINIEST bit of trust in you.

At this point, you're probably the sidechick but more than a quickie.

If your patience and dealing with his constant bs and mood swings have paid off, he just might consider you partner material. He still doesn't share everything and keeps one foot firmly planted on the ground, keeping his emotions in check (as always), but he's allowed you just enough and if you're not ok with that, your ass is getting kicked back down to sidechick or he's decided he's done. Again, trust.

If you're looking for romance, chances are that isn't happening. He might do it to fuck with you. A game. He might offer small gestures to let you know he sees you, shows a bit of tenderness when no one is watching. Granted that 'tenderness' might be him giving you a warning before surprising you with anal sex tonight.

Jinx better love you. If not, it's all over. She is #1 so you better be okay with that.

If he has put Sevika or one of his goons to guard you, you know you know mean something. Unfortunately, if that's the case, Silco knows others will see you as a liability and possible weakness, so now you're a target. I hope you're ok with that.

Granted, if anyone does come for you (and misses), you'll know by now that Silco will Fucking.Go.To.TOWN on their ass. Silco, I believe will burn the world for the person he cares about.

[bayofwolves]

struggling with how to address the nature of conor and abeke's relationship in a revised history of erdas. it deeply saddens me that coneke will not be happening, even though shaneke has always been my endgame. even so, conor and abeke have a really special relationship that i don't feel can be brushed off as simply platonic. i'm keeping the forehead kiss and all the other tender moments they shared before that. in fact, shane is supposed to notice how close they are, which causes doubts to form in his head.

i was thinking of having a scene where conor and shane just talk about this, but this is where the struggle begins. i'm not sure if i want there to be explicitly romantic feelings between conor and abeke. i fear it could needlessly complicate things, especially with the fact that i plan for conor to end up with someone who is very close to abeke in particular! plus, the love triangle is a tired concept -- a perceived love triangle that ends up all being in one guy's head is much more fun. like, shane spending literal years (since seeing them together in the second devourer war) stewing in repressed jealousy and doubt all for conor to cheerfully break the news that he and abeke never felt that way about each other and shane never had any competition? that's great. it's just great.

i feel like this path would be a lot more satisfying and less awkward than if conor were to say he did have feelings for abeke but he won't pursue them for shane's sake, or he knew abeke would choose shane over him, or some "maybe in another life" type shit. that, or they just start fighting over her for real. this would make the reveal of conor's endgame partner feel very odd, which i really do not want because i love the dynamic and potential these two have. it's become one of my favourite rarepairs and i cannot wait to explore it. but if conor did have feelings for abeke prior to this, their relationship would be... questionable, i'll put it.

so yeah, obviously i'm leaning towards the first option, but like i said above -- i can't say with certainty that conor and abeke can be called platonic. since taking up this project, my view of their relationship has slid very far into platonic territory (compared to how i used to ship them romantically), but it's clearly still something a lil bit more! i just can't label it for the life of me.

besties who cuddle and forehead kiss to help with the Trauma? besties who have deep talks for hours into the night when everyone else is asleep? besties who are intrinsically connected in a way that makes most people think romance but they know for a fact it isn't? platonic soulmates??! platonic soulmates. i found it. i found the term. conor and abeke are Platonic Soulmates.

(this is what i love about making a long tumblr post as i think. i figure things out along the way)

** i also feel the need to note that the shane-conor feud will not take up much of the plot at all. no matter how you execute it, jealousy subplots are too overdone. shane's real rivalry is with rollan.

[mermaidsirennikita]

One reason why I think Mila Finelli's mafia books do work for me better than most other (Italian--I did really love Kresley's series) mafia romance novels I've read is that the characters do feel DISTINCT and so do the relationship dynamics.

In a lot of these somewhat darker, more erotic reads, you do get the sense that any of the characters could be switched out for one another. The heroes are always the same types of alphas, the heroines are always the same types of a) virgins or b) defiant rebels who may also still be virgins, and what really sets the books apart are a few bananas scenes here and there, and some distinct sex scenes.

And while I definitely think there are distinct sexual dynamics and kinks at play with each couple (Fausto/Frankie are obviously daddy kink-central, Enzo and Gia are.... generalized freaks with some heavier BDSM by way of CNC vibes, Giulio and Alessio also have some D/s vibes but with a more competitive edge and are very into each other's violence, and Giacomo/Emma are obviously a breeding kink/softer touch vibe) they're also just super different people.

I guess the closest couples would be Fausto and Frankie and Enzo and Gia, but even then... Fausto is a dick, but he's more rational, more doting (see: daddy), and though Frankie is absolutely defiant and strong, I actually think that though she and Fausto have more of a traditional partnership in terms of gender than Enzo and Gia (which also could be because Frankie wants a billion kids and yes she has her MBA but she's very much a wife and mom first, whereas Gia is more about her career, which keeps them from being too similar). Enzo and Gia are more into the defined D/s shit sexually, but you get the sense that she has more control in the relationship and that, at the end of the day, he is very much... her bitch. Enzo and Gia have a very similar age gap to Fausto and Frankie, but Fausto and Frankie have more of a care-focused DD/lg relationship, whereas Enzo and Gia thrive on the friction of her giving as good as she gets.

And Alessio and Giulio, aside from the obvious of being the only queer relationship in the series, are very much coded as D/s as well... But not as inflexibly as the previous two couples. Aside from them switching it up in the bedroom a little, there's also a lot of space for Alessio to take care of Giulio. Like, Giulio kinda doesn't know shit about what he's doing lol, whereas Alessio is hypercompetent (which also makes sense, as Fausto for sure spoiled Giulio and Alessio has been in essentially a different class his entire life). So while Giulio is more sexually dominant, Alessio is really the stronger, steadier, and more threatening partner otherwise. And again, they both really get off on watching each other do what they do best, which is: crime.

I do think Giacomo and Emma have the softest relationship in the series--but it's not so much because she's this kind of babe in the woods virgin (and I will say, I did love that Frankie and Gia were NOT lol) but because Giacomo is just a much more tender guy. Like, yes, Fausto and Enzo both also had loved ones, but I think that because they'd both been running their shit longer than Giacomo had before he met Emma, they had these very set roles. Fausto and Enzo come off as more brutal, and honestly more crazy (like, Enzo is THE CRAZIEST for sure, but Fausto is a fucking nutball). Giacomo seems like a dude who's good at killing people and doing mafia stuff, but it's really like? His day job. It's not his life and it doesn't feel like his culture, even, which makes sense because he was on the fringes of the types of levels Fausto and Enzo have always been in, because his father and brother kept him separate from it. Even Giulio is more connected to that space than Giacomo, because he was groomed to take over for years.

I think it would be very easy to rely on these great sex scenes and wacky plots she writes, but the thing that does make it clear that Mila has the chops (.... and it also makes it clear that she's very experienced, lol, and someone who has had to write series with very individualized characters for professional editors in the past........) is that the characters are very DIFFERENT. Like, Frankie and Gia may both have their partners' balls in their pockets, but you see Frankie do a wheedling kind of little girl pouting thing to get her way with Fausto because she knows he looooves it, whereas Gia is like LISTEN UP ASSHOLE with Enzo (and it makes the relationship the best because nobody else can do that with him, Enzo and Gia are the greatest, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk). Giacomo is willing to let Emma go in a way that Fausto, Enzo, and honestly I would say Giulio too after working out some things, really aren't okay with. He's probably the best guy out of the series, on a moral level, while also being a scary murder man.

(Except for maybe Alessio? Because Alessio is also a scary murder man, but he literally just does it for the cash or to protect Giulio. It's PURE BUSINESS.)

I find the distinctiveness of the characters really cool, especially when I reread the books, and that is probably why I've had a hard time finding a series that really clicks for me in the same way within the sort of Italian mafia genre.

(That, and: so much of the other books center on Italian-American mafia stuff and that shit DOES NOT HAVE THE SAUCE the way Mila's Italy-set books do. Like, be real here, the Italian-American mafia has not been raking in this kind of cash for DECADES.)