baptizedinred
Ask me about my pet turkeys.
Hey everyone, I'm Daniel. I'm twenty-five, 2SQ, and am excited to meet and eventually write with all of you here.
A bit about me, I live on a small family hobby farm with several other members (and generations) of my family, tons of animals including six pet turkeys, and all of my plant children. I'm definitely a nerd, and love to read and write, binge watch shows and movies, and hang out with my family - especially my niece and nephews. I'm in a ton of fandoms with source materials of various types, but while I've posted some fanfiction in the past, my typical interaction with fandom is simply through roleplaying. I love to write fandom stuff almost as much as I like to write original things.
I started roleplaying about twelve years ago, but began writing well before then. I love both fandom and original characters and settings, and have a wide array of characters already created and well-loved, though I'm always excited to create new characters as well. I typically write anywhere from two to ten paragraphs, but rather than worrying about matching my length, I only ask that partners give me enough to work with. I will admit however, one full paragraph is about as limited a reply as I prefer to receive.
Aside from length, I do prefer partners who do their best to use proper spelling, punctuation, and grammar. That said, I recognize that English isn't everyone's first language, and that even when only looking at native English speakers, spelling, grammar, and punctuation can be directly linked to discrimination against certain classes, races, and ethnicities. As long as your writing is legible, it's fine by me! I prefer, too, that partners be willing to share the stage so to speak. I don't like when one character gets all of the attention, if you will, while the other falls into a bit of a caretaker role (or in the case of sexual encounters, when one is a perma-top) unless that is agreed upon before the start of the roleplay. It's because of this that I don't typically write with characters who are currently experiencing suicidal ideation, self harm, or eating disorders. Those things in the character's history are fine, I just find that these themes in particular tend to polarize a story, and I'm not very interested in it. That said, I'm more than happy to hear you out and take this case-by-case if it's something that's important for your character.
One thing about my style, I only write in third person. It's a thing for me, I suppose. Whether it's past or present tense, that matters much less to me, but it has to be third person. I absolutely adore writing both fantasy and non-fantasy settings, as well as stories within historical or modern times. I have characters of various races, genders, sexualities, and species, and am just as happy writing a human in a modern, non-fantasy setting as I am writing a half-phoenix set in a historical fantasy realm. Worldbuilding and character development are my favorite things ever, so if you're willing to sit and plot with me, or at least craft a general idea, I'll love you forever. As previously stated, I'm happy writing anything from one paragraph upward, but I have a general preference for the two to eight paragraph space. I'm also good at writing multiple characters at once, so if you're interested in a large cast, I'm your guy.
My ideal writing partner would be someone who's willing to share the weight. Someone interesting in helping to plot or push the story onward. Someone who writes characters that defy norms and stereotypes. Someone who writes people of color and/or queer characters, and supports representation. Someone interested less in smut (if at all) and more in the relationships between characters, their societies, and the world at large. Someone also interested in character development and worldbuilding would be a plus, as would a partner willing to play (or at least let me play) multiple characters. Also… because I am the manager of our family own business (it's a pot shop), I'm not always able to reply immediately. I need a partner who will be understanding that I'm an adult working 70 hours a week, and therefore writing won't always be the priority. That said, I'm not going to ghost!
Thanks for welcoming me, and for taking the time to read through my long, unnecessary introduction. For anyone interested, I'll post some writing examples below. I hope you all have a good one!
-Daniel
A bit about me, I live on a small family hobby farm with several other members (and generations) of my family, tons of animals including six pet turkeys, and all of my plant children. I'm definitely a nerd, and love to read and write, binge watch shows and movies, and hang out with my family - especially my niece and nephews. I'm in a ton of fandoms with source materials of various types, but while I've posted some fanfiction in the past, my typical interaction with fandom is simply through roleplaying. I love to write fandom stuff almost as much as I like to write original things.
I started roleplaying about twelve years ago, but began writing well before then. I love both fandom and original characters and settings, and have a wide array of characters already created and well-loved, though I'm always excited to create new characters as well. I typically write anywhere from two to ten paragraphs, but rather than worrying about matching my length, I only ask that partners give me enough to work with. I will admit however, one full paragraph is about as limited a reply as I prefer to receive.
Aside from length, I do prefer partners who do their best to use proper spelling, punctuation, and grammar. That said, I recognize that English isn't everyone's first language, and that even when only looking at native English speakers, spelling, grammar, and punctuation can be directly linked to discrimination against certain classes, races, and ethnicities. As long as your writing is legible, it's fine by me! I prefer, too, that partners be willing to share the stage so to speak. I don't like when one character gets all of the attention, if you will, while the other falls into a bit of a caretaker role (or in the case of sexual encounters, when one is a perma-top) unless that is agreed upon before the start of the roleplay. It's because of this that I don't typically write with characters who are currently experiencing suicidal ideation, self harm, or eating disorders. Those things in the character's history are fine, I just find that these themes in particular tend to polarize a story, and I'm not very interested in it. That said, I'm more than happy to hear you out and take this case-by-case if it's something that's important for your character.
One thing about my style, I only write in third person. It's a thing for me, I suppose. Whether it's past or present tense, that matters much less to me, but it has to be third person. I absolutely adore writing both fantasy and non-fantasy settings, as well as stories within historical or modern times. I have characters of various races, genders, sexualities, and species, and am just as happy writing a human in a modern, non-fantasy setting as I am writing a half-phoenix set in a historical fantasy realm. Worldbuilding and character development are my favorite things ever, so if you're willing to sit and plot with me, or at least craft a general idea, I'll love you forever. As previously stated, I'm happy writing anything from one paragraph upward, but I have a general preference for the two to eight paragraph space. I'm also good at writing multiple characters at once, so if you're interested in a large cast, I'm your guy.
My ideal writing partner would be someone who's willing to share the weight. Someone interesting in helping to plot or push the story onward. Someone who writes characters that defy norms and stereotypes. Someone who writes people of color and/or queer characters, and supports representation. Someone interested less in smut (if at all) and more in the relationships between characters, their societies, and the world at large. Someone also interested in character development and worldbuilding would be a plus, as would a partner willing to play (or at least let me play) multiple characters. Also… because I am the manager of our family own business (it's a pot shop), I'm not always able to reply immediately. I need a partner who will be understanding that I'm an adult working 70 hours a week, and therefore writing won't always be the priority. That said, I'm not going to ghost!
Thanks for welcoming me, and for taking the time to read through my long, unnecessary introduction. For anyone interested, I'll post some writing examples below. I hope you all have a good one!
-Daniel
With his drink in one hand and his scone in the other, Anders felt warm and cared for in a way he hadn't in a long time, if ever. He smiled as Clementine settled in beside him and leaned against Anders' shoulder, Anders taking a little sip of his iced coffee while grinning to himself. When Clementine agreed that he'd also thought of it as their own place Anders beamed, unable to help himself despite the way he flushed.
Silence eased over them for a while then as they enjoyed their coffee and each other's presence, Anders giving a soft sound of contentment as he relaxed into the other in return. Clementine's arm hooked carefully around him then and Anders looked over at the other, studying his face before he blushed a little further, still smiling. "Hm? Oh. Yeah, I slept okay," he agreed with a nod, "Better than usual, actually." The full stomach definitely hadn't hurt anything, but Anders secretly thought it was residual stuff from hanging out with Clementine.
"One more work day," Anders agreed, then huffed out a soft laugh. "I didn't expect you to remember my schedule," he admitted. His parents still demanded to know where he'd been on work nights, but Dad still called him lazy even when he was home on days off. He closed his eyes against that, then opened them to glance at his scone, finally taking a small bite. It was… really good, actually. He raised his brows and ate a larger bite, then caught himself eating it too fast so he put it down again, going slower. After all, Clementine wasn't scarfing his down.
Silence eased over them for a while then as they enjoyed their coffee and each other's presence, Anders giving a soft sound of contentment as he relaxed into the other in return. Clementine's arm hooked carefully around him then and Anders looked over at the other, studying his face before he blushed a little further, still smiling. "Hm? Oh. Yeah, I slept okay," he agreed with a nod, "Better than usual, actually." The full stomach definitely hadn't hurt anything, but Anders secretly thought it was residual stuff from hanging out with Clementine.
"One more work day," Anders agreed, then huffed out a soft laugh. "I didn't expect you to remember my schedule," he admitted. His parents still demanded to know where he'd been on work nights, but Dad still called him lazy even when he was home on days off. He closed his eyes against that, then opened them to glance at his scone, finally taking a small bite. It was… really good, actually. He raised his brows and ate a larger bite, then caught himself eating it too fast so he put it down again, going slower. After all, Clementine wasn't scarfing his down.
Kalen hadn't thought he'd be married off to some strange fae of the Night Court, but a duty to his people left him with no will to complain, the Light fae taking the order in stride. It was, of course, posed as a request... but he knew the truth of it. There was no refusing, and he wouldn't have regardless. This union was to be not only of two fae, but of two Courts who had long since come to quarrel, if there had ever been a time of peace and friendship.
The fae sighed softly to himself, then gave a little smile to his good friend Landry who had been speaking to him about... something, something Kalen had since lost track of. "Apologies friend," he murmured softly, "But it's time I take my leave." Landry had helped him dress and had since been talking to him about anything and everything, a clear attempt at soothing Kalen's nerves, and comforting him as he prepared for the first meeting of the man who would soon be his mate. Fate would have it at least, that he hadn't been paired with a woman. Kalen's tastes were varied, but his heart had always belonged to men.
Landry sighed as well, his own smile dropping off slightly as he gazed at the other, seemingly on the verge of saying something before he shook his head, giving a laugh. "Of course. Sorry for keeping you," he told Kalen with a crooked smile, standing and offering a hand to the other before he clapped the fae on the shoulder. "You'll do well. Your Court thanks you," he added, knowing how Kalen felt of honor and duty, despite lacking such convictions himself. Kalen relaxed at that he could see, and even smiled again, a more true and calm smile.
"This isn't the end of my life, Landry. No need to be so glum. The Night fae won't slay me, we're going to marry," Kalen reminded with a musical laugh, his own hand moving to cup the back of his friend's neck. Landry only gave a hum and little smile, looking more sad than his amiable and joking friend had any right to. "Now, how do I look?" he asked, stepping back and spreading his arms slightly to allow for a good, solid gaze. Landry gave it, having him turn once, then twice, then over and over until Kalen too was laughing, his face flushed lightly with joy despite what was coming, pleased to have his friend along.
"I will see you again soon. Wherever we stay, you'll be joining me... if you want," he added more slowly. It was no secret that Landry was subservient to him, not a true Light faerie but a servant, but Kalen wouldn't have taken him from their summery home unless he wished it. The choice would always be his, despite Landry's lack of understanding for that. It had taken damn well long enough to convince him they were friends, not just master and serf, so he had yet to try explaining choices too much. Landry seemed surprised by this, but before he could answer, Kalen shook his head. "Think on it," he urged, "You can tell me your answer another time."
Landry merely gave a little nod, watching then as the other smiled and turned, making his way out of the chambers they'd taken and through the halls. Others met him there, and while Kalen tried to think of them as friends as well, he knew they were mostly there to ensure he didn't try to escape the meeting. As though he wanted to, he thought, rolling his golden eyes. They matched the rest of him, golden hair and dark, golden skin. Even his voice was like honey, he'd been told, a true depiction of summer and the Light, the perfect specimen of their Court, incarnate. It was, he was sure, why he'd been chosen. His status within the Court as well, he suspected, but he pushed that thought away. He'd merely worked hard for his people, had sought no benefits of his own.
Led to double doors that he was sure would lead further to a balcony, Kalen took a moment to smooth his hands over his garments, biting his lips briefly before he sighed, fixing a smile on his lips as he pushed through the entryway, stepping out with ease. The fae he saw there was... well, quite the opposite of himself, he thought at first. Perhaps he too had been chosen for his looks, a more literal joining of the Courts.
"Good evening," he greeted softly, sweetly, moving to approach the rail and gaze out at the night, a quiet sigh escaping him as he gazed at the sky. Many of his Court did not understand his fascination and love of the night, when the day was what gave them their strength and, in a way, name. He didn't understand why they couldn't see its beauty too, but in truth his favorite time of all was when each met, sunrise and sunset, that beautiful moment of in-between, existing wholly in not one, but both. "You must be the man I'm to marry," Kalen said then, giving a little laugh as he looked over at the other, smiling once more, "I am Kalen. It's a pleasure to meet you," he murmured, offering out his hand to clasp arms.
The fae sighed softly to himself, then gave a little smile to his good friend Landry who had been speaking to him about... something, something Kalen had since lost track of. "Apologies friend," he murmured softly, "But it's time I take my leave." Landry had helped him dress and had since been talking to him about anything and everything, a clear attempt at soothing Kalen's nerves, and comforting him as he prepared for the first meeting of the man who would soon be his mate. Fate would have it at least, that he hadn't been paired with a woman. Kalen's tastes were varied, but his heart had always belonged to men.
Landry sighed as well, his own smile dropping off slightly as he gazed at the other, seemingly on the verge of saying something before he shook his head, giving a laugh. "Of course. Sorry for keeping you," he told Kalen with a crooked smile, standing and offering a hand to the other before he clapped the fae on the shoulder. "You'll do well. Your Court thanks you," he added, knowing how Kalen felt of honor and duty, despite lacking such convictions himself. Kalen relaxed at that he could see, and even smiled again, a more true and calm smile.
"This isn't the end of my life, Landry. No need to be so glum. The Night fae won't slay me, we're going to marry," Kalen reminded with a musical laugh, his own hand moving to cup the back of his friend's neck. Landry only gave a hum and little smile, looking more sad than his amiable and joking friend had any right to. "Now, how do I look?" he asked, stepping back and spreading his arms slightly to allow for a good, solid gaze. Landry gave it, having him turn once, then twice, then over and over until Kalen too was laughing, his face flushed lightly with joy despite what was coming, pleased to have his friend along.
"I will see you again soon. Wherever we stay, you'll be joining me... if you want," he added more slowly. It was no secret that Landry was subservient to him, not a true Light faerie but a servant, but Kalen wouldn't have taken him from their summery home unless he wished it. The choice would always be his, despite Landry's lack of understanding for that. It had taken damn well long enough to convince him they were friends, not just master and serf, so he had yet to try explaining choices too much. Landry seemed surprised by this, but before he could answer, Kalen shook his head. "Think on it," he urged, "You can tell me your answer another time."
Landry merely gave a little nod, watching then as the other smiled and turned, making his way out of the chambers they'd taken and through the halls. Others met him there, and while Kalen tried to think of them as friends as well, he knew they were mostly there to ensure he didn't try to escape the meeting. As though he wanted to, he thought, rolling his golden eyes. They matched the rest of him, golden hair and dark, golden skin. Even his voice was like honey, he'd been told, a true depiction of summer and the Light, the perfect specimen of their Court, incarnate. It was, he was sure, why he'd been chosen. His status within the Court as well, he suspected, but he pushed that thought away. He'd merely worked hard for his people, had sought no benefits of his own.
Led to double doors that he was sure would lead further to a balcony, Kalen took a moment to smooth his hands over his garments, biting his lips briefly before he sighed, fixing a smile on his lips as he pushed through the entryway, stepping out with ease. The fae he saw there was... well, quite the opposite of himself, he thought at first. Perhaps he too had been chosen for his looks, a more literal joining of the Courts.
"Good evening," he greeted softly, sweetly, moving to approach the rail and gaze out at the night, a quiet sigh escaping him as he gazed at the sky. Many of his Court did not understand his fascination and love of the night, when the day was what gave them their strength and, in a way, name. He didn't understand why they couldn't see its beauty too, but in truth his favorite time of all was when each met, sunrise and sunset, that beautiful moment of in-between, existing wholly in not one, but both. "You must be the man I'm to marry," Kalen said then, giving a little laugh as he looked over at the other, smiling once more, "I am Kalen. It's a pleasure to meet you," he murmured, offering out his hand to clasp arms.
As soon as Ronan reached the top, he turned his gaze to Adam, wanting to take in his expression more than he wanted to take in the scenery. He swallowed hard as he watched Adam's lips part, those beautiful eyes widening as he offered out a soft exclamation. Ronan felt his face warming as he watched, Adam's awe and excitement thrilling through Ronan's veins, chasing like lightning in his blood. His chest felt like it was ballooning out with happiness at the sight, and a bit of exhilarated awe of his own. After all, he had made Adam look like that. Adam, who so often looked tired or sad or beaten down.
Ronan was caught staring when Adam looked at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he told Ronan that it was amazing, drawing a nod and grunt of agreement from Ronan who had quickly looked away, face and ears a little splotchy with pink. Damn his pale ass skin, always giving him away.
He was quickly distracted from cursing himself however when Adam suddenly pushed him, Ronan side stepping to keep his balance. Before he could demand any answers Adam spoke, challenging him to a race; Ronan barked out a surprised laugh but grinned viciously, immediately giving chase. He hollered, calling out with a loud whoop as he ran, just as he had run countless times before as a boy, chasing and being chased by and with his brothers and dad. His feet flew but soon he fell, laughing as he rolled the last few feet, happily flopping his arms out at his sides as he smiled up at the sky, the small circle above them that the surrounding trees cut out.
Ronan watched Adam flop down beside him then, laying out at Ronan's side. They looked at each other, Adam rising to rest on an elbow; Ronan gazed up at Adam above him, studying the other's eyes and face while Adam studied him in return. He felt wanted, the sort of feeling he hadn't felt in a long, long time. For once Ronan wasn't a burden, wasn't an annoyance, an asshole tagging along. He was Ronan Lynch, beautiful and good enough that even someone like Adam Parrish wanted him. And God, Ronan wanted Adam. His chest rose and fell with trembling breaths as Adam leaned in closer, their mouths close enough that their breath mingled together for a moment. This was it. It was actually happening.
Adam was going to kiss him.
No sooner had Ronan thought that than the space between them closed. Adam's mouth met his own, Ronan's eyes staying open for a minute to watch the other before they fell gently closed, Ronan's arms shifting to hold Adam closer, still so gentle as they kissed. It stayed soft and chaste for a moment before Ronan felt Adam's tongue on his lips, a shiver rolling through him beneath the other before he parted them, offering entry; rather than deepening their kiss and pressing his tongue into Ronan's mouth Adam drew back slightly, his own lips still slightly parted as well as Ronan opened his eyes, the two of them gazing at each other.
Another soft, shaky breath escaped Ronan as Adam gazed down at him, Ronan's face flushed slightly as he studied the boy above him. Adam had spoken, had asked if it was okay. Ronan shook his head. No, it wasn't okay. Nothing about that had just been okay, he thought to himself. He didn't think he could put it all to words though so instead of trying he leaned up slightly, one hand moving to cup the back of Adam's neck as Ronan sought him out, pressing their mouths together for another kiss. He parted his lips on his own without being asked this time, his eyes closed a little tighter, brows slightly furrowed as his own tongue dared seek Adam's out, tasting him.
-
Days passed, giving way to weeks. The feeling of their first kiss never left Ronan, never lessened; Ronan's love for Adam only grew, while Adam seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with the idea of them, together. Some days were better than others, in that some days they were able to spend time alone together, while other days were spent wholly apart. Ronan grew better at using his cell phone, sending messages to Adam now and then but especially when he knew the other was heading to or home from work. Adam's life at home, while still difficult and strained, hadn't seemed to result in any more physical violence lately, and Ronan's dreams remained more peaceful than was typical, his nights filled less with drinking and driving too fast than what they'd been before Adam had finally let him in.
They still had not shared the news, but Ronan was fine with that. If Adam felt as though they should be kept a secret from even Gansey and Noah then Ronan was willing to go along with it, at least for a little while. After all, secrets and lies were not the same thing; while Ronan never lied, he had plenty of secrets, kept even from Adam Parrish himself. It was something that was beginning to weigh on him however, some of Ronan's secrets held back from who was now his boyfriend and, Ronan thought, his heart. It was time to come clean, despite Ronan's fears. This was the same secret that had killed his dad (Ronan's fault, Ronan's fault), the same secret that could send Adam and the others away from him for good. It was also the secret that Ronan felt he had to share, if he was ever going to have something real with Adam.
There was another person who wasn't happy with Ronan, aside from himself. He'd been distracted lately, and Kavinsky had noticed. The pack could feel Kavinsky's tensions mounting each and every day, and Kavinsky himself was keenly aware of things Lynch and Parrish were seemingly trying to leave hidden. The change in how they spoke and acted with one another was clear enough to him though and he hated it, despised it more than he could put to word. All along he'd been sure that Lynch had it bad for both Parrish and the Gansey boy, but he'd never suspected that the scholarship kid was the one who'd end up returning the feeling. Seeing them together rubbed him the wrong way, and Kavinsky knew he'd have to intervene.
First he started with butting in on Lynch more often, trying to make his presence known. He'd challenge the other to races or tease him, call him names and slurs as usual. He gifted him bracelets, gifted him booze, gifted him anything he thought the other might like, but it wasn't working. He had to do something, and the only something left was to take it a step further, go after Parrish instead. He got the number easily enough, one of his boys procuring it for him. He'd finally gotten Lynch to agree to a race too, on a day he noticed Lynch was pricklier than usual, all anger and grief sworling in the way Kavinsky recognized all too easily. This was going to be good, he decided. He'd get Lynch wasted, he'd contact Parrish, he'd drive a wedge between them to force Lynch to come running back to him, where Kavinsky would be waiting with not-so-open arms.
Ronan, for his part, was stormy and quiet all day. He'd skipped school without saying a word to anyone, including Adam, and hadn't given him any word since the night before last when a particularly vicious dream had left him shaken and ready to burn the world down to match his own scorched husk. He knew, or a part of him did, that Adam would be included in the burning and he couldn't risk it, so it was better to keep away from him at all costs… including ignoring messages and dodging chances to see him. When Kavinsky had messaged him with taunts and slurs and challenges, it had been all too easy to accept them, Ronan already past tipsy and chasing a blackout, the only way he could be sure he wouldn't dream that night. It was good. Better than good. This was what he needed. The liquor in his veins and the roar of a car beneath him, racing against the only one who'd ever posed a challenge to him. Ronan was ready, aching for it. He'd only had to wait for nightfall.
Telling the scholarship boy that Ronan would be racing and partying with him hadn't been difficult for Kavinsky. Then again, nothing was ever difficult for Kavinsky, and anything that was typically wasn't worth doing in the first place. He'd simply approached Parrish's locker and leaned against it, flashed him a smirk as school was letting out, reaching up to dip his sunglasses low on his nose to give Parrish a look at his eyes before he'd mentioned it, sweet and innocent like. He'd asked if Lynch had invited him, giving him a slow up and down as he asked it, that smile curling into something more like a sultry smirk.
The implication there was clear, that Kavinsky knew what was up with them, but also knew that Parrish had definitely not been invited. He'd written out the location for the finish line party on a scrap of paper before approaching and, after telling Parrish about what was planned, he'd reached forward and put it into the other boy's front pocket, letting his hand linger there before he'd pulled back and turned away like nothing had happened. His boys had soon flocked him, whooping in excitement for the night or sneering at Parrish, talking about who they hoped to fuck or be fucked by on the hoods of the cars, or bickering to each other as they walked through the hallways, the people around them parting like the seas as Kavinsky led his pack out and away.
He'd wondered, quietly and secretly, if Parrish would take the bait. Now, climbing out of his car, Kavinsky saw that he had indeed, something a part of Kavinsky hadn't really doubted at all. A creature like Adam Parrish wouldn't be able to stay away, Kavinsky thought to himself as he quietly made his way through the partiers. He grabbed a cup of punch for Parrish, along with a bottle of something clear for himself, then made his way back over to where he'd seen the other lingering, out at the edge of the gathered crowd of writhing bodies. Walking corpses, all of them, Kavinsky thought to himself for a moment. He approached Parrish from behind, then stopped at his side, pressing the cup of punch into his hand without a word or allowing for refusal, bringing his bottle to his own lips as soon as Parrish took the solo cup (likely out of instinct, Kavinsky knew).
He took a swig, a feral sort of grin in place the moment the bottle left his lips, red tongue coming out to tease along his upper lip for what remained there. "You look like you're having fun," Kavinsky said, his eyes all black pupils, reflecting the dancing firelight. The light glinted on white teeth for a moment, the vicious, laughing snarl of a jackal as Kavinsky wrapped an arm around Adam's shoulders, drawing him in close. His white wife beater was cut low under the arms to reveal pale skin, scars, and tattoos twisting along ribs, his scent largely sharp and clean with a hint of sweat and skin, a little sweet and minty from a little something he'd dreamed up to try for a new high. "Aren't you going to congratulate the winner?" Kavinsky purred to Adam, leaning in near his ear as he said it, letting Adam continue to watch Lynch.
Kavinsky knew Lynch was already wasted, and he knew that Parrish knew it as well. After all, Lynch had stumbled out of his car upon winning, throwing his arms up and giving a loud cry of triumph that started up a cheer from the partiers. Kavinsky didn't mind. Lynch winning their races had never bothered him, not when each race in itself felt like a victory for Kavinsky. Besides, there was another prize he had in mind tonight, one that had little to do with fast cars, and much more to do with the other boy that drove them.
Making a bit of a show of looking over toward Lynch once more, Kavinsky smirked more widely, all teeth and amusement at the sight of Lynch with a bottle of his own, something someone had undoubtedly given to him for winning. He seemed to be chugging it, or at least drinking eagerly. Absently Kavinsky wondered how much it took for Lynch to black out these days, with as much practice as he seemed to have. "Well, one of you is enjoying himself," Kavinsky teased then, releasing Parrish to take another swig of his drink, leaning against the tailgate of a nearby truck.
Ronan was caught staring when Adam looked at him, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead he told Ronan that it was amazing, drawing a nod and grunt of agreement from Ronan who had quickly looked away, face and ears a little splotchy with pink. Damn his pale ass skin, always giving him away.
He was quickly distracted from cursing himself however when Adam suddenly pushed him, Ronan side stepping to keep his balance. Before he could demand any answers Adam spoke, challenging him to a race; Ronan barked out a surprised laugh but grinned viciously, immediately giving chase. He hollered, calling out with a loud whoop as he ran, just as he had run countless times before as a boy, chasing and being chased by and with his brothers and dad. His feet flew but soon he fell, laughing as he rolled the last few feet, happily flopping his arms out at his sides as he smiled up at the sky, the small circle above them that the surrounding trees cut out.
Ronan watched Adam flop down beside him then, laying out at Ronan's side. They looked at each other, Adam rising to rest on an elbow; Ronan gazed up at Adam above him, studying the other's eyes and face while Adam studied him in return. He felt wanted, the sort of feeling he hadn't felt in a long, long time. For once Ronan wasn't a burden, wasn't an annoyance, an asshole tagging along. He was Ronan Lynch, beautiful and good enough that even someone like Adam Parrish wanted him. And God, Ronan wanted Adam. His chest rose and fell with trembling breaths as Adam leaned in closer, their mouths close enough that their breath mingled together for a moment. This was it. It was actually happening.
Adam was going to kiss him.
No sooner had Ronan thought that than the space between them closed. Adam's mouth met his own, Ronan's eyes staying open for a minute to watch the other before they fell gently closed, Ronan's arms shifting to hold Adam closer, still so gentle as they kissed. It stayed soft and chaste for a moment before Ronan felt Adam's tongue on his lips, a shiver rolling through him beneath the other before he parted them, offering entry; rather than deepening their kiss and pressing his tongue into Ronan's mouth Adam drew back slightly, his own lips still slightly parted as well as Ronan opened his eyes, the two of them gazing at each other.
Another soft, shaky breath escaped Ronan as Adam gazed down at him, Ronan's face flushed slightly as he studied the boy above him. Adam had spoken, had asked if it was okay. Ronan shook his head. No, it wasn't okay. Nothing about that had just been okay, he thought to himself. He didn't think he could put it all to words though so instead of trying he leaned up slightly, one hand moving to cup the back of Adam's neck as Ronan sought him out, pressing their mouths together for another kiss. He parted his lips on his own without being asked this time, his eyes closed a little tighter, brows slightly furrowed as his own tongue dared seek Adam's out, tasting him.
-
Days passed, giving way to weeks. The feeling of their first kiss never left Ronan, never lessened; Ronan's love for Adam only grew, while Adam seemed to be growing more and more comfortable with the idea of them, together. Some days were better than others, in that some days they were able to spend time alone together, while other days were spent wholly apart. Ronan grew better at using his cell phone, sending messages to Adam now and then but especially when he knew the other was heading to or home from work. Adam's life at home, while still difficult and strained, hadn't seemed to result in any more physical violence lately, and Ronan's dreams remained more peaceful than was typical, his nights filled less with drinking and driving too fast than what they'd been before Adam had finally let him in.
They still had not shared the news, but Ronan was fine with that. If Adam felt as though they should be kept a secret from even Gansey and Noah then Ronan was willing to go along with it, at least for a little while. After all, secrets and lies were not the same thing; while Ronan never lied, he had plenty of secrets, kept even from Adam Parrish himself. It was something that was beginning to weigh on him however, some of Ronan's secrets held back from who was now his boyfriend and, Ronan thought, his heart. It was time to come clean, despite Ronan's fears. This was the same secret that had killed his dad (Ronan's fault, Ronan's fault), the same secret that could send Adam and the others away from him for good. It was also the secret that Ronan felt he had to share, if he was ever going to have something real with Adam.
There was another person who wasn't happy with Ronan, aside from himself. He'd been distracted lately, and Kavinsky had noticed. The pack could feel Kavinsky's tensions mounting each and every day, and Kavinsky himself was keenly aware of things Lynch and Parrish were seemingly trying to leave hidden. The change in how they spoke and acted with one another was clear enough to him though and he hated it, despised it more than he could put to word. All along he'd been sure that Lynch had it bad for both Parrish and the Gansey boy, but he'd never suspected that the scholarship kid was the one who'd end up returning the feeling. Seeing them together rubbed him the wrong way, and Kavinsky knew he'd have to intervene.
First he started with butting in on Lynch more often, trying to make his presence known. He'd challenge the other to races or tease him, call him names and slurs as usual. He gifted him bracelets, gifted him booze, gifted him anything he thought the other might like, but it wasn't working. He had to do something, and the only something left was to take it a step further, go after Parrish instead. He got the number easily enough, one of his boys procuring it for him. He'd finally gotten Lynch to agree to a race too, on a day he noticed Lynch was pricklier than usual, all anger and grief sworling in the way Kavinsky recognized all too easily. This was going to be good, he decided. He'd get Lynch wasted, he'd contact Parrish, he'd drive a wedge between them to force Lynch to come running back to him, where Kavinsky would be waiting with not-so-open arms.
Ronan, for his part, was stormy and quiet all day. He'd skipped school without saying a word to anyone, including Adam, and hadn't given him any word since the night before last when a particularly vicious dream had left him shaken and ready to burn the world down to match his own scorched husk. He knew, or a part of him did, that Adam would be included in the burning and he couldn't risk it, so it was better to keep away from him at all costs… including ignoring messages and dodging chances to see him. When Kavinsky had messaged him with taunts and slurs and challenges, it had been all too easy to accept them, Ronan already past tipsy and chasing a blackout, the only way he could be sure he wouldn't dream that night. It was good. Better than good. This was what he needed. The liquor in his veins and the roar of a car beneath him, racing against the only one who'd ever posed a challenge to him. Ronan was ready, aching for it. He'd only had to wait for nightfall.
Telling the scholarship boy that Ronan would be racing and partying with him hadn't been difficult for Kavinsky. Then again, nothing was ever difficult for Kavinsky, and anything that was typically wasn't worth doing in the first place. He'd simply approached Parrish's locker and leaned against it, flashed him a smirk as school was letting out, reaching up to dip his sunglasses low on his nose to give Parrish a look at his eyes before he'd mentioned it, sweet and innocent like. He'd asked if Lynch had invited him, giving him a slow up and down as he asked it, that smile curling into something more like a sultry smirk.
The implication there was clear, that Kavinsky knew what was up with them, but also knew that Parrish had definitely not been invited. He'd written out the location for the finish line party on a scrap of paper before approaching and, after telling Parrish about what was planned, he'd reached forward and put it into the other boy's front pocket, letting his hand linger there before he'd pulled back and turned away like nothing had happened. His boys had soon flocked him, whooping in excitement for the night or sneering at Parrish, talking about who they hoped to fuck or be fucked by on the hoods of the cars, or bickering to each other as they walked through the hallways, the people around them parting like the seas as Kavinsky led his pack out and away.
He'd wondered, quietly and secretly, if Parrish would take the bait. Now, climbing out of his car, Kavinsky saw that he had indeed, something a part of Kavinsky hadn't really doubted at all. A creature like Adam Parrish wouldn't be able to stay away, Kavinsky thought to himself as he quietly made his way through the partiers. He grabbed a cup of punch for Parrish, along with a bottle of something clear for himself, then made his way back over to where he'd seen the other lingering, out at the edge of the gathered crowd of writhing bodies. Walking corpses, all of them, Kavinsky thought to himself for a moment. He approached Parrish from behind, then stopped at his side, pressing the cup of punch into his hand without a word or allowing for refusal, bringing his bottle to his own lips as soon as Parrish took the solo cup (likely out of instinct, Kavinsky knew).
He took a swig, a feral sort of grin in place the moment the bottle left his lips, red tongue coming out to tease along his upper lip for what remained there. "You look like you're having fun," Kavinsky said, his eyes all black pupils, reflecting the dancing firelight. The light glinted on white teeth for a moment, the vicious, laughing snarl of a jackal as Kavinsky wrapped an arm around Adam's shoulders, drawing him in close. His white wife beater was cut low under the arms to reveal pale skin, scars, and tattoos twisting along ribs, his scent largely sharp and clean with a hint of sweat and skin, a little sweet and minty from a little something he'd dreamed up to try for a new high. "Aren't you going to congratulate the winner?" Kavinsky purred to Adam, leaning in near his ear as he said it, letting Adam continue to watch Lynch.
Kavinsky knew Lynch was already wasted, and he knew that Parrish knew it as well. After all, Lynch had stumbled out of his car upon winning, throwing his arms up and giving a loud cry of triumph that started up a cheer from the partiers. Kavinsky didn't mind. Lynch winning their races had never bothered him, not when each race in itself felt like a victory for Kavinsky. Besides, there was another prize he had in mind tonight, one that had little to do with fast cars, and much more to do with the other boy that drove them.
Making a bit of a show of looking over toward Lynch once more, Kavinsky smirked more widely, all teeth and amusement at the sight of Lynch with a bottle of his own, something someone had undoubtedly given to him for winning. He seemed to be chugging it, or at least drinking eagerly. Absently Kavinsky wondered how much it took for Lynch to black out these days, with as much practice as he seemed to have. "Well, one of you is enjoying himself," Kavinsky teased then, releasing Parrish to take another swig of his drink, leaning against the tailgate of a nearby truck.
