#tadea ro

“Tee, it’s going to be fine.”              

“Oh easy for you to say!” Tadea snaps, chewing on her lower lip as she continues to pace. “Everything comes so easy to you! Pack alpha, valedictorian, full ride—”

“Not everything,” Leo says softly, closing his laptop and standing up, catching her by the shoulders. She narrows her eyes at him. It’s no secret that Gabriel had captured both of their attentions, and there was only one victor in the war for her heart. For once, Leo hadn’t had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

“Boy, I can still kick your ass, alpha or no.”

Leo’s smile is gentle. “I know, Tee.” He squeezes her arms and then drops his hands. There’s no jealousy, though, just a quiet acceptance and support. In some ways it’s harder, having him be so supportive. She’s not sure she would be in his position. “It’s okay to be nervous, though.”

“What’s there to be nervous about? It’s just a date,” Tadea says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders up about her ears.

“You’ve checked your appearance in the bathroom at the end of each loop you’ve been pacing through the apartment.”

“I have not!”

Leo inclines his head. “So you weren’t checking that the one strand in front that never likes to stay there—” He breaks off into laughter as Tadea frantically touches the pads of her fingers to her forehead, trying to make sure that her mohawk, combed down for once in an attempt to look more formal, is still in place.

“You’re a brat,” Tadea hisses, torn between scowling some more and wanting to cry. Not that she particularly wants the latter, but she’s never felt so nervous in her life. Facing life and death situations? Fine. Going up against creatures more powerful than her? Easy-peasy.

Taking an archangel of the lord out on a date?

Someone help her.

“Cálmate. Eres linda y fuerte. Estás lista.”

Tadea shakes her head. “No. No, no, no.” She isn’t ready. Sure, she might look pretty, might look the part, but she’d rather go fight a swarm of ghouls with one hand tied behind her back than do this right now. The consequences of screwing up seem less dire with the alternate scenario.

Then there’s a hand at the scruff of her neck and as much as she wants to fight against it, bare her teeth and snarl, she reminds herself that it’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to trust her alpha.

“But if you don’t go now, you’re going to be late,” Leo comments, his eyes warm.

Tadea’s go wide. “Why didn’t you say anything!” She bolts for the door to the apartment and slams it as she books it down the stairs.

Thirty seconds later she’s sprinting back up the stairs and nearly breaking the door down as she barges back in. “Purse!” The strange expression on her alpha’s face lets her know he’s trying hard not to laugh at her behavior. Fortunately, before he loses it, Leo picks up the black clutch and tosses it to her.

Fumbling out her keys, she raises them triumphantly over her head. “I’m off!” There’s a glow to her, and she even manages a wink this time. “Don’t wait up.”

“Have fun!” is the last thing she hears as once more she clatters down the dark, narrow stairs before bursting out into the fading daylight. The clutch is tossed unceremoniously into the back as she slides across the old leather bench seat, the engine roaring to life a second later.

A glance at the clock has her cursing under breath. She can’t be late. She’s been dreaming of this day for longer than she’d like to admit. Of course, she hadn’t known initially what Gabriel was, but it hadn’t mattered. The woman had come into her life and stolen her heart in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Some might say it was a childish crush, but Tadea had waited, bided her time. It hadn’t faded, and for fair reason. After the brilliance of Gabriel, other women seemed a dull in comparison. Smitten didn’t begin to cover it.

And then Gabriel had chosen her. The rough-around the edges, barely-passed-highschool mechanic over the brilliant alpha. This was the one thing Tadea had wanted for years, the one thing she truly would fight for. And her effort had paid off in a nearly unbelievable turn of events.

Her hands feel slick on the wheel, and it takes a concerted effort not to wipe them on her slacks. The price-tags had only come off this afternoon and she’d rather not get her outfit wrinkled before dinner starts. The material feels silky on her skin, and she hopes Gabriel likes it. For a moment she had contemplated getting a dress or skirt, but ultimately decided that her physique would look better in black slacks and the sleek sleeveless turtleneck top she’d gotten to go with it, leaving her arms bare.

Gabriel could kick her ass in a fight with a bend of her pinky finger, but Tadea figured she had to appreciate the hard-earned tone the werepanther had. It was one of her better assets, and it showed off her tattoos. She’d spent too much to get them to not show them off when she could.

Taking a corner harder than necessary and drawing a few scathing stares, she pulls her car into the parking lot of one of the classier restaurants on the bay.

Then she sits there and stares mindlessly off into the distance. Maybe this was a mistake. She’s going to stick out like a sore thumb here with her tattoos and hairstyle, not to mention she’s likely a good decade younger than everyone apart from the waitstaff.

Hell, she looks nearly a decade younger than her date. She frowns. Date? Girlfriend? Gabriel had said yes to the date so did that mean they are girlfriends now? Her heart thumps erratically in her chest at the thought. She’s never had a girlfriend before. Plenty of hookups, sure, but not someone she would take out on a date.

Not someone she would buy new clothes for and fuss over her appearance for hours hoping to live up to expectations.

Tadea groans. “I’m so fucking gay it’s a wonder I can function right now,” she grumbles, shaking her head, trying to rid herself of the nervous thoughts flitting around her head like so many gnats.

And then promptly scooting across the seat so she can see herself in the rearview mirror, afraid that she’d messed up her hair after finally getting all the strands to lay just so.

She jumps at the knock to her window. A familiar face peers in, lips stretched in an amused grin. Much to her horror, Tadea can feel the blush spreading through her cheeks.

“Coming out?” Gabriel mouths.

Nodding, Tadea buys herself some time by turning around and rummaging for her clutch. It’s fallen under the front seat, which necessitates her climbing half-way into the back to grab it. As she returns to the front seat she catches a glimpse of herself and groans. She’d been afraid of using too much product and causing her hair to look stiff so she’d tried to use as little as possible. The result is that now her hair is falling haphazardly over her head. This is why she doesn’t like purses. Much easier to jam a wallet into a pocket of her utility pants. Now she’s undone all of the hard work she’d put into looking presentable.

Dismay crosses her features. Gabriel’s right outside but if she hurries—

The door opens. “The date is happening out here, right?” she asks, her voice low and musical to Tadea’s ears, ears which now feel like they’re on fire.

“Yea, just a moment,” she mumbles, trying her best to hastily sweep the strands back into something resembling neat. A hand taps her shoulder, and she turns reluctantly to face Gabriel. The woman is leaning down, nearly in half, to see into her classic car.

“Come on gorgeous,” she murmurs in that smooth voice of hers. “You’d think being as old as I am I’d have learned patience, but I don’t want to wait another minute for this.” Her hand is palm up, inviting Tadea to take it.

Blushing furiously, annoyed at herself for still primping in the car while Gabriel is waiting, Tadea places her hand in Gabriel’s. It’s warm, calloused like hers which is oddly comforting. It’s a reminder that while Gabriel might seem worlds away from her at times, they have a lot in common.

She’s pulled out of the car and given her first good look at her date. Now she feels underdressed, and these are the most expensive clothes she ownss. Gabriel is stunning, the colors perfect for her complexion, the flow of the fabric accentuating her form.

“Hold still,” Gabriel instructs. Tadea is glad she said it though because she cannot move and finds it unlikely that she will be able to in the near future, still recovering from taking in her date.

Her. Date.

She swallows, her palms starting to feel sweaty again, her heart picking up speed. Adrenaline she’s familiar with, but she’s used to channeling it into fighting. Uncertainty makes her tongue heavy and she’s stuck staring silently and up close at Gabriel’s face as the taller woman bends over her, fussing with her hair. Her fingers are gentle against her scalp, comforting and intimate at the same time.

All too soon she’s pulling away, lips curled with satisfaction. “There you are. Though, for the record, I think how you style it normally is just fine too,” she comments, sweeping around and striding towards the sidewalk up to the restaurant.

Tadea scrambles after her, feeling completely uncoordinated, legs leaden and head spinning. Pull it together pendejo, she thinks to herself, catching up and offering her arm to Gabriel. One eyebrow raises.

“That’s still a custom after all these years?”

Tadea’s tongue darts out, wetting her lips before she speaks. “If you like I can kiss your hand, make you feel more at home,” she offers.

A soft laugh greets her proposal. “Maybe later,” Gabriel says, shaking her head. “Humans are such strange creatures…”

Tadea wrinkles her nose as they approach the double doors. “I’m not a human,” she reminds Gabriel gently. The archangel waves her hand in a dismissive motion.

They draw attention as they walk together. She can’t fault the onlookers; even in her work clothes in the middle of the night, sleep deprived, bags under her eyes and everything wrinkled and half-tucked, Gabriel was beautiful.

Today, dressed up, she shines like a supernova. In comparison, Tadea might as well be a remora, Gabriel the beautiful and deadly shark that she’s clinging too, attempting to prove herself not a parasite.

“Is my company so boring I cannot hold your attention for even a few minutes?”

The question makes Tadea blink, then shake her head. “Sorry, no, that’s not it at all. I can’t think about anything but you at the moment.”

Gabriel makes a noncommittal noise and reaches for the handle. Tadea tries to beat her to it, but the disadvantage of having a taller date manifests itself in the fact that she can’t reach the handle before her date. “I might suggest ceasing thinking about me and instead talking to me,” she says as she holds the door open for Tadea.

“You could have let me get it,” Tadea tells Gabriel, eyeing her sideways as they step into the cool interior of the restaurant. “You already opened my car door for me.”

“So I did,” Gabriel agrees, the door closing softly behind them. “It is no trouble, Tadea. Relax. Human courting rituals may change over the centuries but a simple door opening is not the end of the world.”

“I’m—not human,” she repeats.

“I’m aware,” Gabriel says dryly. “But many of your behaviors, customs, and rituals are. Or at least, have the appearance of being.” She falls silent as they walk up to the hostess.

“Guerrero, party of two,” Tadea says. The hostess glances at her, and Tadea catches a glimpse of nictitating membrane sliding across what would otherwise appear to be a perfectly normal human eye.

She’s beginning to think there’s very few humans in New Jericho.

They follow her out to the balcony over the water, to a quiet corner table where they’re left alone with two menus.

“As I was saying—humans borrow and steal, blend and appropriate as they like. They are an extremely adaptable species, very compatible with a wide variety of creatures from across the planes. Many of what they consider to be their habits are simply things they have gleaned from other, older races.”

Tadea isn’t sure what to say in response to that, so she switches topics.

“The ambience here is nice.” There are floating lanterns below, bobbing gently in the harbor, and a candle in a hurricane glass on the table, surrounded by a wreath of fresh flowers. Primroses, if she’s not mistaken.

“It’s strange.” Gabriel looks out over the water, drumming her fingers against the bottom of her chin. “Candles were necessary for so long as a light source. I’m not sure it was considered particularly romantic; it just was. Now that humans have advanced past that level of technology they regard it with a certain fondness. A soft spot for archaic things.”

“Maybe, but I think something like a gondola ride or—or a horse drawn carriage is romantic,” Tadea says with a small shrug. “Being archaic or old,” she adds, her smile curling up with mischief, “isn’t such a bad thing.”

Gabriel looks at her, her expression flat. For a moment Tadea fears she’s offered insult, ruining the date before their waters have arrived. That would have to be some kind of record.

“No, I suppose not,” Gabriel finally responds, one side of her mouth tugging up. She takes the glasses of water from their waiter as he arrives, thanking him in a tongue that isn’t of human origin.

“Fae,” she explains for Tadea. “At least part. Likely some sort of selkie hybrid, possibly naiad. Or would that be oceanid? They’re really all of a similar species but I suppose they do have their preference in type of water.”

Tadea opens the menu. “I don’t really know a lot about other supernaturals. Not like we had a ‘how to be a werepanther’ class or anything that also covered the other types of creatures we might encounter.” She looks over the top of the menu at Gabriel.

“Finding out that angels are real was a nice treat, though.”

Gabriel blinks slowly, before a smile curves her lips. “I have quite enjoyed my interactions with werepanthers as well,” she says languidly, the words soft and intimate. One of her fingers runs around the rim of the water glass, creating a low ringing sound.

“I thought only crystal did that,” Tadea blurts out, curious and happy to latch onto a subject that won’t lead to her blushing.

Gabriel quirks her lips. “I’m not entirely playing fair,” she admits. “Nervous habit.”

“You’re nervous?” Tadea asks, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Are you so surprised?” Gabriel asks in return, leaning back in her chair, showing off her long frame.

“Well, yea,” Tadea admits, rubbing the back of her neck. “You are kind of a few millennia old archangel of God. I would think this is all run of the mill for you.”

Gabriel’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry,” she says after a beat, “but my Babylon matrix isn’t translating that. Could you explain?”

Tadea mentally slaps herself. Good going. Confuse your date; I’m sure that’s a brilliant strategy.

“It’s an idiom meaning that this is ordinary or routine for you.”

“Ah.” Gabriel turns her head to look out over the water. “No, no I wouldn’t say that.”

“You’ve… never gone on a date before?” Tadea can’t conceal the shock in her voice.

Gabriel looks back out of the corner of her eye, eyebrow arched. “Not like this.”

“But—but—!”

“But what?” Gabriel asks, turning around fully. “You’ve said it yourself: I’m an archangel. Dating doesn’t come with the territory. It’s not forbidden, but angels don’t often take a mate. I think I know more angels who have Fallen for creating Nephilim than I know who have another angel for a mate. And dating outside of angels is—discouraged.” The way she says the last word is like it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

Tadea frowns, her eyebrows drawing low. “That seems kind of depressing.”

Gabriel gives a shrug, her expression resuming its normal inscrutable mask. “You haven’t dated before either, or at least that’s what I’ve surmised from your behavior.”

“Well, no, but I’ve been a bit busy trying not to die for most of my life and then crushing on a certain archangel since then.” The server comes back, and Tadea has to request a few more minutes, feeling bad that she hasn’t glanced over the menu at all yet.

“I could tell a very similar tale myself,” Gabriel muses, flipping open the menu.

“You’re making this up to make me feel good,” Tadea accuses. “I’m not anything remarkable. There’s no way I’m the first person you’ve ever had a desire to take out on a date.”

Gabriel snaps her menu shut and lays it down. There’s a crispness to her words, cutting Tadea to the quick. “No, you’re not remarkable.”

Tadea bites down on her lower lip. Her eyes rove over the printed words rather than look at Gabriel, but she sees nothing.

 “You’re not an alpha, though we both know you could have been. You’re not particularly gifted in any area with the exception of fighting and perhaps mechanics, though the former seems an unhealthy obsession at times and the latter seems less innovative and more routine.”

Tadea clenches her jaw. After a few beats she sets her menu down as well, meeting Gabriel’s gaze for the first time without a trace of nervousness.

“Then why are we here?” she demands, voice low. Whatever happens, she refuses to make a scene. She refuses to give any of the people who look at her and think they know her type a reason to believe themselves superior, and that includes her would-be date.

“I cannot answer that for you,” Gabriel states.

“I think you just did,” Tadea says, starting to get to her feet. Faster than her enhanced reflexes can track, Gabriel seizes her wrist.

“Sit down.”

It’s not a question, and Tadea finds her butt back in her seat, heat crawling up her neck. Taking orders wasn’t something she had ever enjoyed with her previous partners, preferring instead to fight for dominance—quite literally, most of the time. With Gabriel, though, it feels—well, like lightning shooting through her veins, nerves from her toes to her head sending signals to her brain and making her entire body flush. Desire, irritation, and a touch of awe mingle.

Gabriel is an aphrodisiac all on her own. Eyes glittering in the dark, the soft glow of the candlelight making her wonder just how Gabriel must look when not bound to a mortal form. She’s already taller than most people and turns heads everywhere she goes. Was her light bright, scorching? Or was it soft and gentle? Something inbetween? How much of her was avenging angel and how much was this… tired and world-weary being?

It’s not a bad date, not really. Not that Tadea has been on a lot of dates to compare against, but the company is good, and the food she sees being served up looks and smells delicious. The conversation hasn’t been terrible either.  

Except for the whole part where Gabriel had practically admitted to being here out of some stray sense of curiosity.

“Stop.” Her voice is clear but softer now, charging through the cacophony of Tadea’s thoughts. “I’m… I have watched the world for a long time, Tadea. I have seen a great many things. I have met some of humankind’s most brilliant specimens, seen what they call miracles up close and personal.”

Tadea focuses on the way her water glass sweats, cool drops rolling down the sides, picking up speed as they join other droplets. It’s easier to focus on than to see the light turn away from her, than to see Gabriel decide that this was a mistake.

“Tadea, please look at me. Please.”

Irked, Tadea gives in, raising her dark eyes to meet Gabriel’s. They’re wide open, and she’s leaning across the table towards the werepanther, the long-fingered hand on her wrist flipping Tadea’s hand over and stroking the calloused palm. It takes all her control not to shiver at the touch. Gabriel isn’t playing fair and Tadea doesn’t understand what game they’re playing anymore.

           “There are books with names, important figures in the movement of the world. Yours isn’t in it.” Surprise, surprise. Tadea is a nobody. She’d always known that. It wasn’t her father who had ruled the pack. It wasn’t her mother who organized the resistance to the encroaching alpha. Her father had been killed without doing anything but being an ordinary member of the pack and her mother had been dead or as good as for longer.

“You’re doing it again.”

The note of wry amusement in Gabriel’s dry observation has her wrinkling her nose, withdrawing her hand and folding her arms across her chest. “So?”

“Would you at least wait until I finish talking before getting cross with me? This is a new occurrence for me.” Gabriel’s lips twitch up, relaxed despite the tension Tadea felt mounting in her body. Fight or flight seems like a valid response here. Sensing her reluctance, Gabriel presses her further. “You can teach an old cat new tricks but it might take nine lives.”

Tadea blinks, and suddenly giggles. Horrified, she claps a hand over her mouth, not having anticipated the sound to be so loud or so high-pitched.

Gabriel beams, before abruptly frowning. “I didn’t say that right, did I?” she asks, shoulders slumping, dejection heavy in her voice.

Taking pity on her date—she is quite old and if this really is her first time dating, then it is perhaps unfair to expect her to be better—Tadea holds up three fingers. “Curiosity killed the cat.” She lowers a finger. “Cats have nine lives.” Another finger goes down. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Well that’s just nonsense. Curiosity only kill the unprepared, cats do not have nine lives—at least not ordinary house cats. Perhaps some varieties of creatures that look like cats but no actual earth-origin cat. Unless you found a necromancer I suppose and brought it back but I think that counts as an unlife not a—”

Another snort escapes Tadea, though this time she doesn’t hide her laughter behind her hand.

Gabriel’s lower lip juts out and she slowly flutters long lashes at Tadea.

“That’s not going to work on me.”

“You can teach an old dog new tricks,” Gabriel wheedles.

Tadea shakes her head. “Nope. But—” she holds up a single finger. “I might be willing to try and teach an angel new tricks.”

Gabriel’s eyes light up. “So you’ll wait?”

“If you get to your point,” Tadea comments. “Our poor waiter is going to come back and we’re still not going to have an answer for him.”

“Well I certainly know what I would love to eat,” Gabriel murmurs, and there’s nothing innocent about the way she says it. Dating might be new, but clearly seduction was not.

“Gabriel,” Tadea hisses. Holding up her hands, she leans back.

“As I was saying: you are ordinary.” Her eyes soften, her head canting as she looks at Tadea, unblinking. Tadea wonders if she has any idea the kind of instincts that triggers. Gabriel’s not another werepanther so it’s unlikely. It’s a silly child’s game for the most part, but the urge to stare back and see who blinks first is nearly overwhelming.

She resists, though, forcing herself to blink.

“Humans seem to regard ordinary as a terminal condition. And I’m sorry my dear, I don’t mean to offer insult, but many of the weres and other supernatural creatures that dwell on this plane have adopted human behaviors by and large to assist in blending in so for the purposes of brevity I shall simply use humans as a generalization.”

Tadea nods, hoping Gabriel will get to her point sooner rather than later.

 “You have to understand… most mortal creatures aren’t worth the notice of immortals. Not as individuals. And it’s not that you’re not interesting or that we don’t care, but when you know something will die and be like a brief flare of light in your life… well in the absent of that light the darkness seems that much more intense for having seen it otherwise, if that makes sense?”

Tadea realizes something as she watches Gabriel. Her date’s posture isn’t tense, it’s perfectly poised. She doesn’t twitch or fiddle, no toe-tapping or finger-drumming. There’s no outwards signs of nervousness, except that she’s a touch to perfect with her posture, with the way her fingers wrap around her water glass or the way her long legs are crossed neatly at the ankles beneath the table.

The archangel is nervous.

For the first time tonight, Tadea breathes out slowly, a weight lifting from her shoulders. All this babbling, these round-about words bordering on insulting, all of it is the archangel’s way of being embarrassed. Flustered, even, if the touch of a blush on her cheeks is natural and not due to the assistance of make-up.

“This assignment wasn’t part of my plan. And then I expected to be here for some two decades or so to raise the boy to adulthood. I figured it would be over and done with quickly and I could go back to watching, as we angels do so well.”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “I never expected to be here.”

Tadea, having found her footing, cannot resist teasing the angel across the table from her. “At a restaurant on the bay run by fae? I mean we can always run to the fish and chips stand down closer to the shipping docks.”

A peal of bright laughter tears from Gabriel’s lips, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “There she is!” she exclaims, teeth flashing in a stunning smile. “There’s the woman I was hoping would show up for our date.”

Tadea shrugs one shoulder, leaning back, at ease. “No pressure dating a literal archangel of God or anything, you know? I had to buy new clothes to be sure that I wouldn’t have grease on anything. It gets everywhere.”

Gabriel arches an eyebrow. “I’m eager to see the extent of the truth of that statement,” she murmurs.

Tadea narrows her eyes playfully. “Finish your explanation. I’m still not impressed.”

 “You’re still here.”

“You’re hot,” Tadea counters. “And this—seared Chilean sea bass with rosemary potatoes and herb sauce sound delicious. If I’m going to get all dressed up the least I can do is get a good dinner out of it.”

More soft laughter greets her words.

“Fine. As I was saying, I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to meet this young woman who is resilient and fierce and loyal, with a heart she tries to hide behind thorns but is more beautiful than any rose.”

“Now you’re just piling on flattery,” Tadea says, too quickly to sound casual.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” Gabriel is staring at her again, and this time Tadea doesn’t blink, getting lost in her eyes. Maybe it’s her own personal bias, but there are depths to Gabriel’s eyes that other creatures seem to lack. They’ve seen so much, and normally there’s a flat affect to them, a general disinterest born of seeing too much of the awful side of life.

It was a look Tadea had seen in many of the survivors of the previous alpha’s takeover.

Now though, there’s a spark. A twinkle of delight that Gabriel seems unsure of how to handle. “And it is true. You aren’t remarkable because some celestial force has your name in a book or someone wrote a prophecy. Yes, being a werepanther sets you apart. Your skill as a fighter and as a mechanic sets you apart. Even your beauty sets you apart. But it’s—it’s not given to you. You are unique, in ways that I have to pay attention to notice.”

The waiter comes up, and this time they both hastily give an order, neither one interested in delaying the meal further but eager to return to their conversation. The fae gives an appraising glance at the pair of them.

 “A bottle of champagne for the sweethearts, on the House,” he declares before gliding away.

Tadea inclines her head. “He knows you aren’t a null, doesn’t he?”

It’s Gabriel’s turn to shrug nonchalantly. “Let’s just say that the dialect I spoke is both old and most often used by powerful fae.”

“Sneaky,” she comments, taking the napkin and moving it to her lap, smoothing it out over her legs. Gabriel copies her motions.

“Age often leads to wisdom which sometimes leads to a certain canniness that could be described as sneakiness,” she demurs. “Now—let me finish. You are… amazing, Tadea Guerrero.”

She rolls her r’s now, something she hadn’t done the first time she had tried to say her last name. It’s obvious she’s been practicing, and not with Tadea. Perhaps it seems small and insignificant, but for Tadea, it makes her heart warm.

 “You couldn’t have just said that from the beginning?” she asks, her voice coming out in a hoarse rasp, emotions clogging her throat.

“I was trying. I am… before you I thought I knew the world. I thought I knew all about it and the banal, insipid creatures that went about their lives. I thought that this would be a torture, that I would be bored out of my mind.”

Once more Gabriel reaches out across the table, grabbing Tadea’s hand.

“You caught me off-guard, and your devotion, your belief… Tadea, I don’t know that I deserve any of it, but for the first time in a long time, I have something to work towards that is for me. Well… for us.”

Heart pounding, Tadea squeezes Gabriel’s hand. “I like that.”

An eyebrow climbs. “That?”

“The idea of us.” Her smile is broad as she leans forward. “You already know full well that I like you.”

Gabriel grins. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I think the Babylon Matrix—”

“¡Por el amor de Dios!” Tadea exclaims, rolling her eyes. “That works one time, chica,” she tells her archangel, wagging a finger. “Una vez.”

Not the least bit perturbed, Gabriel shrugs. “Worth a try. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of other things I’ve been dying to try out.”

Tadea shakes her head, her grin stretching wider. She hadn’t been sure what to expect from a date with an archangel, but so far she wouldn’t change a thing. Raising her glass, and gesturing for Gabriel to do the same, she clinks the water together. “To figuring this out, together,” she murmurs.

Tadea kicks the door shut behind her. You giggle in her arms as she nibbles on your neck before setting you on the counter. Leaning back, you glance, doe-eyed, up into her dark eyes. “And what are you going to do now that you’ve caught me?” you tease, grasping the hem of your skirt and flicking it this way and that.

A low growl escapes her before she catches herself, looking embarrassed. “Worship my personal goddess, of course,” Tadea rumbles.

“Not a goddess,” you correct reflexively.

Tadea tips your chin back, her eyes soft. “Okay. But you are my precious, beloved, girlfriend,” she murmurs, leaning down, bumping noses with you before finding your lips, kissing them gently. Her lips, you’ve noticed, are one of the softest parts of her.

“I should take you to your bedroom. You deserve something soft,” Tadea murmurs, cupping your face with one calloused hand. She smells faintly of that gojo soap with an undertone of oil and grease. Not dressed up. Not covered in flowery perfume. Raw and natural.

“No, here,” you tell her, inching your skirt up.

Tadea’s eyes dart down. Her hands move to your legs, stroking up the outside of your thighs, over the fabric of the skirt. “As you wish, mi cielito.”

Technically the word means little sky, but Tadea had explained that she meant it as heaven, equating you to her own little piece of paradise.

You raise your hands to her bare arms, feeling the way she flexes under your touch. It’s a strange dichotomy; she loves being strong, but she also hates the way her hard, muscular build makes her appear in the eyes of others.

Correction: hated. Now she has a new appreciation for her body, encouraged by her small girlfriend. You always get a thrill when she picks you up with ease, her body beautiful as her well-maintained muscles move beneath her skin in a dangerous symphony.

You slide your hands down her arms to where her hands rest on your skirt, taking them in yours and squeezing them. “I want to see all of you,” you tell her, holding her gaze.

Tadea hesitates, then nods. She withdraws her hands, stripping off her tanktop, followed by her sports bra. Her yoga pants follow suit, revealing hard thighs and a patch of dark curls—no underwear for her today, at all.

There’s already a trace of moisture glittering in the hairs, and you reach out to touch, pressing in, finding her warm and wet. “I’m glad to know you approve,” you tease, rubbing a forefinger over the clitoral hood until you can feel the hard little nub.

Tadea catches your hand, bringing it to her mouth and kissing the palm. “I want to taste you first,” she admits, gaze dropping shyly to the floor.

“Then help me disrobe,” you tell her. Tadea steps up to you, kissing the tip of your nose and then each cheek as her hands slide under your shirt. They rest on your sides for a moment, before sliding up, taking your blouse with them. You hold your arms up for her, and she drops the blouse with the other clothes on the floor. Her fingers make quick work of the clasp of your lacy bra, revealing two pert breasts for her appraisal.

Those rough hands cup one a piece, the callouses sliding over your skin and creating delicious little sparks of pleasure. “I love how soft you are,” Tadea whispers in awe, kneading your breasts until the nipples are hard and begging for attention.

She sweeps her thumbs over them and you wriggle, wishing you could close your legs together to get some friction. Tadea’s nostrils widen, and she glances towards your lap. “I love that I can turn you on just touching you,” she adds, kissing you on the mouth again. She starts to get down on her knees, then frowns.

“This counter isn’t the right height.” You grimace. So much for that idea.

“I guess—ah!” A surprised squeal escapes you as Tadea slips your legs over her shoulders, your feet resting against her strong back, one arm enough to support your back as she stands and moves you to a wall, letting that take the weight of your upper back.

A new rush of heat hits you, and this time you can see her pupils dilate. With her free hand she pushes your shirt up inch-by-inch, kissing the skin as it’s revealed. Her lips are chapped, rough, but it feels so good, only building the anticipation.

Finally the skirt is bunched around your waist, revealing a small black lacy thong. Tadea runs a finger over it, flushing as she realizes it’s completely soaked. “How many times do you think you can climax until you can’t walk?” she asks, using two fingers to press the damp fabric against you, rubbing over your slit.

Your thighs tremble at the thought, breasts aching, body tightening. “I don’t know. But my big, strong girlfriend will carry me anyways,” you respond, rolling your hips into her touch, biting down on your lips to stifle a groan.

“Always,” Tadea agrees, shifting the flimsy scrap of fabric aside. She lowers her face, inhaling your scent before she licks along your lower lips, circling the hood until she can suck on your clit.

You cry out, nails digging into her shoulders, feeling more liquid dribble out of you as you clench around nothing. Tadea smirks. You feel the muscles in her shoulders shift as she moves her free hand, circling your entrance, spreading the slickness around.

You try to watch but your eyes keep closing of their own accord, bucking helplessly as Tadea continues to mouth your clit and rub just around the inside of your vagina. One of your legs kicks out as you feel your pleasure build with each little suck, the texture of Tadea’s tongue dragging up and then down, the tip circling around your clit until you are ready—

She stops, her warm breath brushing over your throbbing pearl, leaving you on the edge. A noise of distress escapes you. You attempt to use your heels to pull her closer, bouncing them off her back. You tug with your hands, but she remains a statue.

“Tadea, sweetheart, please,” you cry, needing her to grant you relief. Your body is flushed, you’re soaking, and each little huff of air is a small torture.

“Anything for you,” she purrs, moving lower, switching the positions of her fingers and tongue.

Your head smacks into the wall as her tongue spears you, and you’re certain she must have partially shifted because there’s so much texture and a length to it that you don’t think is quite human. Your back arches and you think you might have scratched her but you can’t be sure because between the way she’s trying to drink you up and her fingers press down, moving in circles over your mound, hitting those nerves beneath the skin is too much.

A scream of pleasure rips out of your throat as you try to squeeze her head between your thighs, as if she weren’t perfectly happy to remain there of her own accord, unrelenting until she’s managed to cause a cascade of little orgasms.

You’re crying. It’s so good and perfect and you want it to stop because it’s too much but you don’t want it to end because it’s amazing and you aren’t going to be able to walk. That rough tongue continues to move in and out, circling around as lips kiss you in your most intimate spot.

As your body comes down, Tadea seems to sense you need a respite, her fingers stopping and head lifting up. Her mouth and chin are shiny with a mixture of your juices and saliva. She wipes most of it off with the same fingers that had been stroking you, licking them like a cat cleaning her paw.

You pant heavily, still shaking, your thoughts fuzzy. Tadea smiles, a few strands of hairs falling across her forehead, escaping the hold of the gel smoothing them back.

Without a word Tadea carries you to your bed, setting you down and crawling over you, kissing her way up your body. You tug her up to your face, flipping you so you’re resting on top of her hard body, kissing her languidly.

You reach down between your warm and sweaty bodies, finding her thighs drenched. Her breath catches and her eyes widen as you use two fingers and a thumb to work her up, watching raptly as her body starts to tremble. Her back arches, lifting both of you off the bed with ease, feet planted on the bed. Your hand moves faster, sensing she’s close—and she comes with a quiet cry, falling back to the bed, still clenching around your fingers. After a few moments you drag your hand out, inadvertently smearing the leftover fluids across both of your stomachs.

Tadea laughs and smooths a hand over the back of your head. “Don’t look so annoyed. We can always shower together in a bit,” she purrs, her chest rumbling, the sound comforting. You shift, snuggling so you can use her breasts as your pillow. Tadea always fusses that they can’t be that comfortable, but you disagree. Plus, once you feel ready for a second round, they provide a great starting point.

Tadea wraps an arm around you and kisses the top of your head. “Love you,” she says.

Reposting the bit about the pack I’ve said before over here.

It’s run by a patriarch who considers most other males to be a threat to his authority, and either runs them off or deals with in a permanent manner. He’s a vicious tyrant who abuses his power and holds absolute authority over his pack.

I don’t want to get into it too much, because I want to leave most of it for you players to discover as part of the case(s). Suffice it to say that if concerns the panther pride pre-Leo, it’s probably dark and unhealthy.

I will add on to that a bit.

The werepanther pack in Jericho follows old laws, were the alpha is determined by combat. You must kill the previous alpha to succeed the current one. The current alpha (at the beginning of our tale) murdered the last alpha and most of the previous’ pack leadership. He runs the pack more like his personal harem/dictatorship, killing or driving out would be rivals.

2. To begin with, I should probably update the character’s sexuality and explain that it’s not a rigid I’m straight/I’m gay and more of a “I’m not attracted to the same/opposite sex.” This is probably going to be the first and last game I’ll do through hg with sexual preference, due to the many headaches and me feeling like I’m running around in circles and being an insensitive arse while doing it. This is also unfamiliar territory for me; I have tried to research and discuss with others, but at the end of the day, I am not nb and therefore may say or write things that are not as they should be. That is one of the things I value most about the CoG community, the general willingness to provide feedback and work with authors on correcting these things. This is a WIP, and I am more than happy to make these changes, but I cannot always identify what/how to change them. This is where feedback, like yours, comes into play.

I want to balance character representation with actual balance–i.e. the number of romances available to a single person. Especially because trying to write anything about being attracted or not attracted to a certain genders calls into question what about that gender is attractive to a character.We all have a preference, but for these characters it’s a very, very broad preference.

The way I am currently planning on approaching these four characters is that there are two components of their attraction to the player. One component is the attraction to how you present yourself to the world. For that component, Stephanie isn’t interested in females. The second component is physical attraction. Now, way, way back (and this is no longer the case) she was only going to be available to cis-gender males, because she is not attracted to female sexual characteristics. This was changed, because it did not respect afab characters who identify as males. Now, with that case, Stephanie is not attracted to them physically. That doesn’t mean this is now an asexual romance path, but rather that she will discuss what is and isn’t within her comfort zones when it comes to intimacy, should the player choose to pursue her.

Stephanie has only, in the past, been attracted to men. She (and the other three) have never dated a nb person. I did not want to eliminate these four as an option for an nb Gabriel, especially when I see asks like this one and this one. With a nb Gabriel, she values that they are not male or female, but it is new to her to be attracted to someone who doesn’t identify as male. An nb Gabriel with a physical body that she isn’t attracted to is just one step too far outside of her comfort zone. She hasn’t explored her attraction to non-binary people, and doing so with a body she is not physically attracted to isn’t within her interest. She won’t be attracted to their body, and she isn’t sure of her attraction to their representation, which, currently, means she wouldn’t be interested in them overall.

Now, something I do have planned that might further reduce the choices but I feel is better, is that anyone playing as non-binary will have the chance to further specify their identification. You can choose to be male-aligned, female-aligned, or neither. (I know the spectrum is broader than this, but for the sake of scope I am trying to keep it simple. Adding genderfluid, agender, and bigender, for instance, increases the scope quite a bit). Now, with this further specification, Stephanie would not be attracted to someone who is nb but female-aligned, regardless of physical characteristics.

I’m quoting some of my conversation with another nb fan who was kind enough to take some time and discuss with me, though in that conversation we were referring to Tom, not Stephanie.

“That also helps, knowing that it’s less “I’m straight” and more “I’m not into men”. The question of a male-aligned Gabriel could still be a bit iffy, but I know I, for one, don’t expect people to justify why they aren’t attracted to me. It just happens or it doesn’t. It’s when you start trying to put labels on it all that it gets messy, because language is imperfect and experiences and identities are diverse”

At no point in the story will the characters say I’m not attracted to you because you aren’t male/female–this is in code only. The rejections will be along the lines of “Thanks, but I’m just not interested.”