#does he use this as ammunition whenever he has a critique of one of his friend's love interests? that they're not each other's 'soulmates'?

[justafriendofxanders]

do you like Xander/Andrew? (if you do I have a really specific idea I love and fuck it lets share: one of those AU’s where your soulmates name appears on you one letter at a time over your life. Anyway Xander’s letters say ‘A’ and then ‘An’. It’s only on the day of his wedding he gets his third letter. ‘And’. So turns out Anya ISNT his soulmate and he does his whole canon running away breakdown thing)

Anon I am HONORED to be the person you think of when you think of Xander/Andrew. I hope to bear my title as the number one defender of mediocre Buffy men (affectionate) with the same humility and grace I've conducted myself with thus far. Unfortunately this is not my ship, but I like that it seems very in-character for Xander's (and Andrew's) love life to unfold in a dramedy of errors. I assume this also involves an absolute fucking crisis on Xander's part in s1 when Angel shows up.

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

Uhhh I read all your Cal writings and I am in love!! May I request something for Cal? Maybe with S3 and S40??

Aw, thanks so much, anon; I’m super glad that you really like them! I’d love to do your request as well (even if writing ‘Daddy’ makes me wither from shyness), so thank you for requesting and I hope you can add this to your list of Cal fics that you love!

And, p.s., this is a bit long so beware lol

S3: “I mean, I’ve never been called ‘Daddy’ before, but I can’t say I don’t like it when you call me that…”

S40: “You’re gonna make me–ah, fuck!”

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MC could hardly breathe in the air surrounding her, the crisp and refreshing nature overlapped by the abrupt burst of smoke and fire in the atmosphere. A gun smokes with the succession of one bullet, then two, then three, until the resonating bang is all MC’s ears ring to. She claps her hands over her eardrums as Cal fires a few more. She stays like that, a startled figure on the sidelines, until the lack of blasting gunfire finally reaches her. Cal was finished, the hand wielding the gun now at his side, the barrel pointed harmlessly at the floor. That made some--though not all--of MC’s trepidation recede. His gaze is rampant on her and that familiar sense of “he’s watching to see my reaction to his grand achievement” falls over her. Once his palpable smirk dawns, MC’s eyes swing away to the target a long distance away, bullet holes and tears made by an influx of bullet holes scarring the dummy ahead. Cal’s malevolent blue eyes glitter with satisfaction as he turns to MC and places the gun in her hands. Despite the cold weight of the pistol and the sickening feel of it in her palm, Cal’s touch is a soft remedy that consoles her and she struggles to stay focused when he squeezes her fingers. “Now you try,” he keens, tender and warm, too affectionate to be intentional, “aim for the next one over and see if you can do better than me.”

She was still new to the idea of using an actual gun on actual living things. Lessons had been rickety following the consistent demon attacks and the looming presence of Alejandro over their shoulders, but Cal had kept persisting. He kept coaxing MC into the shooting range for more practice despite her evident hesitation. “Just think of this as some sort of cheesy life lesson, okay? Like... be prepared for whatever happens, or, get ready to use a gun if a demon approaches you. Y’know, those sorts of lessons.” Cal had said when MC first voiced her misgivings. A weird coil of warmth twirls around in the base of ribs and she prays that it wasn’t the feeling that comes after a pleasant memory was reminisced. She took a breath and raised the weapon, ignoring the lingering warmth in her chest. Whatever it was, it wasn’t welcome. Cal’s gaze was a pressure on her shoulders that she tried to ignore as she hooked her finger around the trigger.

BANG!

A bullet flies through the air with a staggering clap and dives into the dummy’s left hip, just shy of passing into the wall behind it. Her eyes were squeezed shut so her temporary victory wasn’t something she knew until MC heard Cal applaud slowly. “Not too bad,” he says, signature smirk blatant on his lips, “for a rookie. Unfortunately, that shot wouldn’t kick a demon down so you’re about as good as dead.” The amusement and snark that he emits is poisoning as MC rolls her eyes, scowling at the ground. Did he have to be a smart-ass about it? She heaves a groan and aims the gun once again, grumbling under her breath, “yes sir.”

BANG!

The second shot sails past the dummy and just misses its shoulder. By just an inch or two. She sags in defeat. Why did she have to suck so bad in front of Cal? The scowl on her face deepens as she senses Cal’s smug smirk on her back, almost like he could pick apart her thoughts and understand them. “Don’t say a word,” MC snarls as she tries her best to avoid his eyes and scrutiny she was under. A moment passes, filled with deafening and suspenseful silence...

“...after this session, I’ll make sure to have your funeral costs covered. Just in case.”

She shoves her elbow in his ribs as he snickers. “And you’d be okay with me dying?!” MC gives him a scolding, almost condescending glower as he mindlessly massages his ribs--right where she elbowed him. “Last time I checked, you’re the one who insists on teaching me!” His expression dilates a few degrees and a quiet hint of worry and disdain flood his eyes. Hell, even a waft of offense breezes through, as if her just making that accusation was insulting. Like the notion that he didn’t care for her was something to make Cal defensive. MC had been thinking about those pure blue eyes for so long that she had a picture in her mind for whatever emotion filled them next. For this, MC imagined an ocean plagued with pollution...why was her heart suddenly beating so fast? “No, I wouldn’t be,” his soft voice and serious tone sway her a little and MC has to reinforce her stubbornness before she falters, “that’s why I’m teaching you, MC. To prevent that from happening.” The trick shooter holds her searching gaze for all of another second before tearing his eyes away. He fixates on the pretty-much-uninjured dummy and gestures with his chin, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re getting there,” he pats her shoulder and it feels like he was being condescending to her, “but I do believe in your ability to be better--no matter how scarce that ability might be.”

MC scoffs, “what are you, my daddy or something? Seriously, I don’t need your cute little words of encouragement to do better.” Her words rush out in a mindless quip and she moves on autopilot: lifting her arm, pointing the gun accordingly, checking to assure she’s gripping the damn thing right... What MC’s autopilot fails to detect is the furiously-blushing Cal to her side, his gaze to the side and his hand ruffling through his hair awkwardly. He was stunned at her word choice in more ways than one. Her “daddy”? His “cute little words of encouragement”? The silence is a time bomb ticking in his head, awkward and loud in duet with the blooding roaring in his ears. Did she not understand what she just said? MC finally, after a few more painstaking moments on Cal’s end, swivels her head to see what he’s gone so oddly quiet about and discovers the color in his face, on the tips of his ears... She blinks, completely baffled. “What’s up with you?” He doesn’t respond immediately, his mouth parting like there were words ready to be said but just couldn’t leave. It only furthered her confusion. “Spit it out already, Cal.” She demands, a stern frown following her words.

“...do you ever even hear half the things you say?” Cal asks, a genuine lilt to his tone, his eyes perpetually soft and rigid with bashfulness. He looked shy, which was a look she saw rarely embellishing his features. Cal seemed to always have a mask in place and a blush of steel, one that only danced out whenever something truly undeniable happen. She doesn’t respond right away, her frown creasing her cheeks and wrinkling her nose. What was he talking about? Her mind rewinds their entire conversation and then, in unison with her falling frown, her face burns with the words she said to him waltzing in circles in her mind. “I didn’t--it wasn’t-! I was-!” She feels her tongue tangle in her mouth as she tries to defend herself, the tint in her face deepening. “...you’re the worst.” MC relents. The shy barrier of his expression doesn’t wane or dilute seemingly at all. In fact, it seems to strengthen as he opens his mouth again.

“I mean, I’ve never been called ‘Daddy’ before, but I can’t say I don’t like it when you call me that...”

MC considers self-destructing as her face flames even more like she was already on a timer, just ticking down the seconds. She shoves his shoulder like her life depended on it--if she was about to combust, then her life did depend on it after all. “Shut up!” Her expression squeezes into a pout as she whines this, her heart pounding so fast that she could hear it in her ears, “you are so dirty that it’s not even funny!” MC’s abrupt reaction must coral his snark out again because the shy smile on his face flips into a smirk and he snickers, lightly driving his elbow into her arm. The carefree attitude he chauffeurs does little to tranquilize her shame and embarrassment. “Hey! Don’t blame me for taking things you say so literally,” Cal says this as he safely removes the pistol from MC’s possession--just for good measure, “there’s always so much blabber coming from that mouth anyway.” He punctuates his point by poking his finger into her cheek, to which she swats away.

“Can we just focus on the lesson?!”

“Of course, who ever said I wasn’t? You’re the one talking about ‘daddies’ over here, MC.” Cal barely pronounces her name before he gets a fist pushed into his bicep, followed by his own light laughter.

“Cal! You’re just as guilty as I am!”

“I doubt that. You are far more distracting than I could ever be.”

“Idiot,” MC roughly bumps into his side, face now scrunched in a scowl.

“Jerk,” Cal reciprocates, grinning.

Tiny little quips follow into their session as MC attempts to lampoon the dummy with bullets in areas Cal would consider a ‘take-out zone’. She attempts again and again, her results varying in rapid degrees, before she slings her last shot. The bullet zips through into the crook of the dummy’s supposed elbow which is in the outskirts of a take-out zone, according to Cal. The circus performer is a statue to her side, quiet when she’s aiming and annoying when she misses. This final shot draws a dull snort out of him and he gives her a slow clap, mocking her. She both thanks and curses the pistol for no longer having any ammunition.  

“Wow, somehow you did even worse. You would be definitely be a goner if we were actually in danger.” He critiques, vapid and sly, before the pistol is suddenly wrenched from her hand and she’s yanked backwards--right into Cal’s chest. She squeals out of surprise, yelping when she notices how tight his arms were around her waist and how his breath billowed against her nape. His laughter, alluring and soothing, sounds just behind her ear and she tries hard to not shiver at the whisper of it. The warmth of his body and the corded expanse of his arms and chest surround her, blanketing her in a Cal-fitted sheet. MC finds her heart pounding as he play fights with her and pretends to overthrow her, drag her away like a demon would. “Get off! I get it!” MC shrieks as he heaves her off the ground, casually holding her high enough to avoid enough the tips of her shoes from touching the ground. “Get what? I’m a demon, not your instructor. The only thing you’ll get from me is an ass-kicking!”

MC smirks as she swings a faulty kick to his side. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line, demon?” She teases easily, her hair swinging into her face as she spins out of his grip. Cal’s grin is challenging and ripe with glee as he lunges for her again. “No, only the person who can actually kick asses can have that line, and I do believe that person-” the gunslinger wraps her in his arms and secures her to his chest, close and tight enough to render her squirming as useless “-is me.” Her eyes snap up to meet his and once they do, it’s like a puzzle piece clicking into place, the pigments of their eyes losing their humorous glint. Suddenly, Cal’s grin fades from his features and the previous elation of a challenge rots away as well, leaving nothing but an undecipherable expression. A book she couldn’t understand, a language she didn’t speak but she yearned to learn. Their heavy, synchronized breathing and faint flush in their faces only add to this, becoming the tool to etch all of this in his gaze. His blue eyes dart to her lips when she parts them and her heart stomps in her chest. She registers the cradle of his arms and the minor proximity between them, the calming touch of his skin and the brittle vulnerability set in his gaze. Surreal was the feeling thrumming in her bones, daunting and deep. Insides, there was an amusement park alive and kicking, the adrenaline-provoked screams dancing in her stomach when Cal’s face becomes red and the coasters swooning when her mind imagines closing the distance between them.

That thought, however, is stolen as fast as her breath when Cal suddenly whirls MC against the wall, his grin choking the sentiment that had been collecting in his expression. “Stalling me, eh?” His lips move harmoniously and it’s hard not to glance down as he speaks, MC discovers. “I admit, you had me for a second there.” The smug warble of his voice seemed miles apart from the softness that had engulfed his eyes just moments before; it was like MC was talking to a whole different person. She knows she should respond, say something smart back, but her entire body, mind, and spirit were hyper-focused on how she was cornered by Cal’s body. She tried to not blush harder at the faint puff of his breath to her lips. She attempts to calm her raging heart and stave the desire leaking into her bloodstream, fueling the rest of her alike with the same blood that colored her skin and pumped rapidly in her heart.

MC tries... and fails.

The last thing she sees, imprinted in her mind’s eye, was Cal’s figure alight with the glow of fluorescent lights as she kissed his smirking lips.

Then quite literally, her body was alight with Cal’s hands traveling all over her skin, shedding layers upon layers of clothes as he proceeds. She didn’t even know when everything escalated--she just knew the feel of his kiss and the languid discovery of his hands. A nexus of passion strengthened and renewed with each touch, each kiss, each breathless retort or mindless quip... This was what intimacy was with Cal, right? Being so deprived of his touch to fold when he does and to feel that desire flow between each other; a river of lust, a stream of passion. MC drowns herself in that river, letting it wash over her as Cal kisses her again and again, something bubbling between them... When she came to her senses, she was still pressed to the wall, her clothes an abandoned heap on the floor along with Cal’s, whose defined body was pinned to hers.

Everything else was silent, a wasteland of nothingness, except for the thrilled pants of Cal and MC as they hold each other in the dark. Fervent warmth was exchanged at their skin and friction was created with their limbs. An ocean’s worth of desire peers at her, searching and needing and wishing--could he hear her heart racing this fast against him? “You... you understand what I mean when I say ‘distracting’? This--you--are distracting, MC.” Cal’s raspy, low voice husks over the intense jump of his chest. Even in the shadows, she could faintly see the pink infecting his face. MC found it hard to breathe even though Cal’s body wasn’t crushed against her. Her lungs failed her when he mentioned how distracting she was, when she glanced at the brunette curls adhered to his forehead from the sweat gathered on his skin. Had he always been this beautiful? Words congregate and knot in her throat, a ribbon of unspoken feelings and libido all threaded into one, so instead of responding with anything verbal at all, she smashes her mouth to his and kisses him with those unsaid words.

Cal’s mouth was still fervent and silky as it embraced her own, again and again, the furnace of heat between them unyielding. She could feel the gentle swipe of his hands up her torso, the way he presses his palm gingerly to her flesh like she was a treasure worth salvaging, and the sensual pattern of his fingertips smoothing over her. All of it made the furnace in her lower belly seem to explode and catch fire, somehow much hotter than it should’ve been possible. His small groan chases that rush of sparks in MC and their kiss was deepening, the passion intensifying. His teeth rake against her bottom lip but she hardly minds the sting. One of her hands card through the mishap of curls on his head while one of his travels up her thigh sinuously. MC’s heart rate hiccuped when she felt his need for her against her skin and her legs, off of reflex, clutch him closer to her. It was all MC could do but burrow in his strong embrace and relish in the friction of his flesh, the sensation of his fingers touching her, the solitude she felt wedged to the wall. They don’t even part to join their bodies, connecting themselves together in more than just their lips.

They didn’t need to; their two-person orchestra required no conductor.

When they come together, it’s an indescribable feeling made inexpiable with the council of emotions churning in her chest--it feels so good to become one. She delights in the sharp inhale near her ear and the slight grunt that he elicits, the sound resonating inside her. Cal was making it harder and harder to not lose that little scrap of self-control that she was still clinging to. His kiss turns rough, his touch spreads fire all over her skin. They move in brittle harmony, more of it powered by the desperate jerks of their hips. She held onto his broad shoulders and let her noises of ecstasy melt on his tongue, allowing him to swallow the vibration and the dull hum in his throat.

“You’re gonna make me--ah, fuck!”

MC’s thoughts divorced from coherency and soon she was bubbled in this constant rhythm of pleasure to notice anything else. Nothing but Cal and his desire for her, the gentle embrace he soaked her in, the taunting sounds he made for her ears only. All of the heat he gave her and all of the kisses he placed on her parted lips. Seconds blur together and before she feels she can even properly breathe, they were toppling over an edge and they were falling together. When the blissful flog clears in her mind, MC finds herself still against the wall with Cal’s lithe form pressed to her skin. His mouth is against her pulse as he continues to press a chain of kisses up her neck, the soft curls on his head brushing her chin. She was captivated in the soft and nurturing way he touches her, worships her, that it wasn’t easy to just pull away. Neither of them speak and they don’t have to.

She smothered herself in his arms and returned the sincere kiss he plants on her mouth. MC allows him to hold her tight, even for just those few extra moments, wanting to relish in the feeling of having Cal North to herself.

Maybe she should’ve been more respectful of her feelings and the welfare of her heart, but she felt like this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.

Like a trip to see the Pyramids of Giza: she just didn’t get to do that very often at all.

Or in this context, Caleb North.

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Thank you again for your request! I’m so sorry for the long delay, I really enjoyed writing this for you though!

Oh and before you click away, support @vowtogether!!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

[jessylml-blog1]

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