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slushrottweiler · 1 year ago

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Hold on tight

My little contribution to the @wayhavenficexchange for this year. My lovely giftee was @doulyeah, with a request for Mason and F!detective, including funny twilight references and banter. I hope you like what I've come up with. Your detective sounds so fun!

Mason was halfway out the window when he heard her heartbeat.

Well - honestly, he had been hearing it more and more recently. It was like a little part of his mind was always honed in on the steady thump thump thump of the detective’s pulse, his ears straining for the sound no matter the distance. He heard it so often that it had become a gentle background noise; a calming beat that seemed to blend into the jumble of sounds that Wayhaven had to offer.

Tonight, with the heavy sounds of wind through the forest trees and the mile wide circle of nocturnal wildlife cavorting around, her heartbeat was still a gentle echo that grew louder the closer to the roof he got. Mason cursed under his breath and considered whether he should just slip back into the building and find somewhere else to dull the pounding in his head. When had his rooftop perch become their meeting place? Now where the fuck was he supposed to go?

“Mason? Why are you hanging off the gutter like a spider monkey?”

“Spider what?” Mason snapped back, head popping over the roof edge to shoot the detective an indignant look.

Fuck, she looked good in the moon light.

All that soft beige skin; skin he knew shivered when he stood too close, or blushed russet when he murmured in her ear; it looked bronzed in the silver light. Far too much of it was visible for such cool weather, and goosebumps were clearly visible all the way from the sleeves of her tank top down her arms. Her legs swung down over the edge, bare feet kicking in the empty air. That heartbeat of hers picked up slightly as she met his gaze, and for a moment he forgot to be annoyed. But only for a moment.

“Is that another of your sparkle vamp tropes Sweetheart?” he asked, dropping down to sit shoulder to shoulder with her. When had he crossed the roof? He didn’t even remember choosing to sit down.

But the moment his shoulder brushed hers, a little of his headache faded. He supposed it was easier to focus on her, than on the racket of his senses. She took up a good amount of space, as far as distractions went.

The laugh she sent up into the sky held his attention far better than any of the forest noises. The flash of her grin seemed to defuse the bright moonlight, and his clothes didn’t feel so damn scratchy when he could feel the heat of her through it.

“Ah HA! You do remember!” She pointed her finger at him, and Mason caught her wrist on instinct.

“How could I not,” he grumbled, “those damn films are akin to torture. I cannot believe you convinced Felix that they were fun.”

“Because they are!”

“Nothing about watching a couple of blue tinted morons angst at each other could possibly be fun.”

“Admit it, you’re team Jacob and you’re just mad he didn’t get the girl.”

“I ain’t on the dog’s side!”

Again, her laughter bubbled out of her. Mason wasn’t used to making someone laugh this much. That must be why it made his chest tight. He had to acclimate to it. Yeah, that’s it.

Mason did not pout. But he did change the topic. “How did you know I was there?”

She shook her head at him with a smirk. “I could see the smoke.”

“Smoke?”

A faint orange glow reflected back at him from her dark eyes, and Mason remembered he had a lit cigarette between his lips. The burn of the nicotine, the acrid smell; he’d barely noticed it since he saw her. Without questioning it, Mason reached up and stubbed out the smoke beside him, flicking the butt off into the woods as he watched the shadows soften on the detective’s face now that only the moonlight lit her.

“Well aren’t you observant?”

“Yeah, not like that’s my job or anything.”

He shook his head. “Or maybe you just know this is my spot. “

“I mean, was I wrong?”

It was Mason’s turn to tease. “Aww,” he crooned, “did you miss me? Have a bad dream?”

He expected a glib comeback. Something sarcastic to get him all worked up. Instead, the detective snapped away from him, spine ramrod straight. She tore her gaze from his, and it stung behind his own eyes. A stiff breeze picked up, catching her dark curls and whipping them around her face. Pushing the scent of her toward him.

The salty tang of fear mixed with her usual scent and Mason froze. She sighed, shoving her hair back with a shaky hand.

Without the sharper shadows from his cigarette, he could clearly see the tired circles under the detective’s eyes. What he had thought were only goosebumps were actually a mild tremor. Holding her wrist, he could feel the warped texture of her scar, raised and tight. He stroked his thumb over it, and felt her pulse skitter under his touch. Maybe her heartbeat hadn’t picked up when he’d appeared. Maybe it had already been pounding. Maybe there was a reason she was out here in the freezing night air, still in her sleep clothes, alert to anything as small as a tendril of smoke.

“Hey” Mason started, but she cut him off.

“You’re right. I should go. This is your spot, I shouldn’t have come…”

“Wait Sweetheart-” But she was already pulling away, and the world was rushing back in. His clothes felt like sandpaper, the wind stung as it whipped at his face. Animals skitters, birds hollered. Somewhere downstairs, Nate and Adam were talking quietly in the study. His own heart was beating a tattoo behind his eyes. It matched her own.

Don’t go.

She froze and he yanked. The grip he had on her wrist tightened just enough to pull her closer, she fell more securely against him. Shoulders, hips, thighs, all aligned now. The world receded away as she whirled to look at him, shocked eyes wide. But she didn’t try to get up again.

Slowly, like he was trying not to startle her, Mason lifted her scarred wrist to his own lips and, whilst still holding her gaze, he pressed a soft kiss to the raised skin. He felt her tremble. Her heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, fluttering and erratic for a different reason now.

He should do something. Say something. Apologise.

Fuck it.

Mason curled his other arm around her and pulled her in tight. He felt it as her tensed muscles slowly relaxed, until she melted down. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and her other hand reached up to grip his shirt, tightly at first, then looser as she took in deep breaths. Normally, it was her who initiated their hugs. She, who wrapped him up in her arms.

“Just for tonight.” he murmured into the top of her head. A weak chuckle puffed out of her.

He could hold on tight. Just for tonight.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven fic exchange 2k23 #mason x f!detective #fluffy #twc mason #twc detective #twc fic #gift exchange

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elegantmadness · 2 years ago

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Going Rogue (A Wayhaven Chronicles Fic)

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Spoilers through Book 1 only)

Summary: Murphy finds the Detective before Unit Bravo. Unfortunately for Murphy, they're not who he needs to worry about most. Once Murphy is dealt with, Unit Bravo tries to hold their ground, but they're susceptible: both to the allure of the Detective's blood and the promise of what they've secretly always wanted. By the time the Agency arrives, there's no sign of the Detective or Unit Bravo.

Characters: Gender Neutral Detective (They/them pronouns), Ethan Murphy, Felix Hauville, Nate Sewell, Mason, Adam du Mortain

Pairings: Felix/Detective, Mason/Detective, Adam/Detective, Nate/Detective (building up to a polycule sorry not sorry) Tbh not a lot of romance here yet.

Rating: M, mainly for blood, dubious consent regarding the Detective's ability (nothing sexual for now though!). Please note vampire-y blood-drinking too.

Word Count: 4k or thereabouts. I do plan another chapter since I didn't even get to write the scene that's been stuck in my head.

Notes: Unit Bravo's first meeting with the Detective is in the warehouse where the experiment takes place. Please note this is a darker universe given the Detective's abilities! Consent is kind of an issue (not in a sexual context for now, though), but if that bothers you, please do not read this fic!

Wayhaven was small, too small. Yet, somehow… it was in such an isolated place that the former Detective discovered that the world was not so small as previously believed. Supernatural creatures walked amongst humankind, blending into the shadows as readily as in the light.

Well, until the line between the two began to blur.

It had started out innocuously enough – a strange reaction from a nurse at the local urgent care facility, a few curious looks from locals who had otherwise kept to themselves. There had even been a pointed look after an accident where the Detective had needed stitches, but nothing could compare to the kidnapping.

The defining event had been one, nameless vampire with delusions of power and a freedom he would inevitably never be afforded in such a world; the Agency whose very name he spat from his mouth would never have allowed their presence known, after all.

Your blood is special, Detective. So much power…

Being abducted had, of course, led to terror and trepidation, but it had also opened up… possibilities. If supernaturals were so keen on this mutated blood, then why not use it? Why not revel in the power it offered? The supernatural world was still a wholly foreign concept, but surely enticing those who might approach with such temptation would give the Detective the upper hand?

Such thoughts were moot until the present threat was dealt with, however; Murphy – no doubt a moniker for his own purposes – saw the Detective as little more than his organic battery, and until he was out of the picture he would doubtless continue to be a thorn in the Detective’s side.

“Company.” Murphy tensed as he spoke, his eyes narrowing as the Detective glanced down at their restraints and began tentatively to tug, searching for a weak point to exploit.

“Come quietly, Murphy. This doesn’t need to end in violence.” A calm, measured tone permeated the silence, and the Detective didn’t need to look up to see Murphy sneer.

“Besides, it’s four on one. You really think you stand a chance?” A younger voice spoke up this time, cocky and playful, and the Detective had to suck in a breath as one of the restraints tugged a little too firmly against a track mark.

The Detective could smell the barest hint of cigarette smoke before hearing a snarl, the disturbance of air and a dull thud the only indications that anyone had moved. It wasn’t a surprise, really; vampires were preternaturally fast, after all.

Hissing out another breath, the Detective’s arm trembled as they slid it free, numb fingers reaching across their blood-smeared torso to release the other.

“Give up!” The severe tone gave even the Detective pause, though after glancing up they made to stand – a grievous mistake as their legs gave way and their hands grappled towards the chair to keep themselves upright.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Detective? We have so much more time to spend together.” Murphy’s tone was a curious cross of furious and desperate, but even as he reached an arm out and rounded it across the Detective’s torso, there was a curious… levity that followed the motion.

“Let the Detective go!”

Who was speaking? Murphy was sending back some scathing remark about the Agency’s pets, but the Detective’s attention was focused elsewhere, their eyes drawn to the fleshy joint of Murphy’s neck and shoulder. It was inexplicable, really, the draw the Detective felt, yet when they reached a tentative hand up and touched the spot, Murphy froze on the spot, his eyes wide before he dared to glance down at the Detective.

Confusion was apparent in the narrowing of his eyes and the slight parting of his bloodied lips, though before he could offer a reprimand or a question, the Detective’s fingers made contact. How could they sense the magic there? The… what had Murphy called it in his mindless ramblings? Pheromones? He’d lamented earlier that they’d had no effect on the Detective because of the mutation of their blood, but… it was certainly more than that now.

“Why don’t you relax, doctor?” The words had flown from the Detective’s mouth unbidden, an instinctive knowledge that, even in hindsight, would make no sense. Even with Murphy’s experiments the Detective was still human, but then… how did they know?

Murphy’s grip lessened until the Detective slipped free entirely, the group that would be their savior tense and frozen on the opposite side of the room. Was there recognition in Murphy’s gaze? His eyes were entirely unfocused, and the Detective could little help the twitch of their lips before pressing on. “Your friends at the Agency are on their way for you, doctor. It would be most inhospitable to keep them waiting any longer than you already have.”

“Is this for real?”

“What the fuck is going on?”

The Detective could hear the others in hushed tones, yet their focus was entirely on Murphy as he nodded mechanically. “Yes, of course. I will stay here and wait for them to arrive.”

“Splendid,” the Detective hummed approvingly. Though moments later they leaned closer to whisper, “If ever I see your face again, I will ensure the Agency’s accommodations seem welcoming in comparison.” Murphy’s nod was, once more, mechanical, and the Detective had to hold in a dark chuckle when he seated himself on the floor, looking lost and mindless – an assessment not terribly far from the mark, if the Detective were any judge.

The group tensed again when the Detective finally turned back to them, the aching in their limbs becoming much more pronounced. Was it from whatever had happened with Murphy’s pheromones? Or the blood loss? Both, the Detective decided, taking several steps closer and having to hold in a chuckle when the group tensed even further and seemed to recoil from the proximity.

“Surely you are not afraid of me?” the Detective couldn’t help but taunt, the blond tensing even further as the one with a cigarette clenched between his lips growled in response.

“Well, I mean, that’s not exactly normal, is it?” The shortest one of the group laughed uncomfortably, gesturing towards Murphy and glancing back as if waiting for someone else to speak.

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sympathy for him,” the Detective shot back with a raised eyebrow, though the question did little to ease the mounting tensions. It little helped that blood continued to drop down the Detective’s arms, the quiet plops as they dripped onto the concrete earning more than a few glances from the group who still looked as ready to flee as attack.

“Explain what you did to him,” the blond demanded, jaw taut and green eyes flashing angrily.

“So you are afraid,” the Detective taunted further, though such was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back. A blur of burgundy swept closer, angry and growling, and the Detective merely smiled as the man’s hand reached for their neck, yet… seemed to falter halfway there.

“Mason!” The voice of reason shouted, daring to step closer, though he flinched away moments later, a tawny hand lifting to cover his mouth.

“What the fuck are you?” Mason ground out, his hand falling back to his side as he caught the Detective’s gaze.

Oooh. Whatever pheromones this Mason had were much more potent than Murphy’s, and the Detective dared to reach a hand towards Mason’s shoulder. “By Murphy’s own admission, I should still be ‘boringly human’,” the Detective responded with a quiet chuckle, pleased to see hostility draining out of the vampire who’d ventured so close despite the hand hovering only inches away.

“Your blood…,” his voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing and his lips pulling back into a sneering grimace.

“I’ve heard it’s quite potent,” came the flippant response, nearly glib, and Mason snapped his head back up. “I’d be happy to offer you a taste, if you’re curious.” Mason flinched as though being punched in the solar plexus, though he did not move away, even after the Detective’s hand moved past his shoulder, tantalizingly aloft mere inches from his face.

“Mason!”

“Don’t do it! You know what’ll happen if the Agency finds out–”

“Mason, please! Don’t be baited.”

The Detective didn’t miss the flicker of Mason’s tongue as it swept over his bottom lip, the barest hint of a tremor stuttering his breath as he undoubtedly tried to talk himself out of the impulse.

The blond sprinted towards Mason, though he could have been moving in slow motion for all the good it did him. A tongue lapped at the sensitive skin of the Detective’s wrist, cleaning it free of blood before dragging up their forearm towards the elbow, a visible shudder raking down his spine. His grey eyes were far away and dilated when he dared to look up, the barest smear of red coloring his top lip and the tip of his tongue, and… was that a fang?

One of the blond’s hands grasped Mason’s upper arm tightly, likely in warning, though before he could say a word Mason was snarling at him, freeing himself angrily, and the Detective had to hold in a laugh as the blond went soaring back into the wall from the motion.

“Now now, there’s no need for violence,” the Detective chided Mason softly while the other two went over to the blond.

“What the hell are you doing, Mason!” The youngest one was full of anguish, his face screwed up tightly as though trying not to cry.

Mason offered him a shrug, looking only mildly concerned about the now-groaning blond as their tallest friend helped him back to his feet. “What’s the problem? He’s fine.”

“Aren’t you going to apologize? Are you even sorry?” The tallest one was speaking again, angry and upset as they and a whole host of other emotions swept across his face. Though, as he started towards the pair, Mason tightened in place, a protective hand sweeping out in front of the Detective.

“Thank you, Mason, but I promise I can look after myself.” He blinked at that, noticeably uncertain even as his his arm lowered slowly; the other continued his approach purposefully, long legs crossing the distance swiftly before long-fingered hands began reaching for Mason’s shirt.

In his haste he’d nearly forgotten all the blood still dripping from the Detective, however, and he froze to see it all, his gaze unmoving from the Detective as the tips of his fangs began to graze over the top of his bottom lip.

“Care for a taste?” the Detective murmured softly, the offer making his eyes widen. Everything about him was so soft, so familiar and casual, but even in the warm depths of his brown eyes there lurked something darker… something more primal, and the Detective was inexplicably drawn to it.

“You can’t even imagine the taste, Nate,” Mason told him softly, his hands reaching for the Detective’s arm as he began to lap up the blood once again with a groan.

“Why are you resisting, Nate?” His name came out a purr, and the Detective reveled in the sight of his control breaking down before his hands caught the Detective’s free arm and brought it up to his face. He was much less gentle than Mason, however; he allowed his eyes to hover over the pulse point in the Detective’s wrist before plunging his mouth down, fangs easing into the skin there as he let out a rather loud, positively obscene sound.

It should have hurt, should have engendered something other than pleasure, but between his deft handling of the Detective’s wrist and Mason’s clever tongue dipping into the spaces between their fingers for every last trace of blood, it took all of their willpower not to buckle. Fortunately, Mason and Nate seemed to be on the same page as two, strong arms rounded the Detective’s waist.

Oh. Right. There are still two here.

Nate’s breath shuddered as he finally pulled away, blood dripping down his chin before his tongue swept over the area greedily, his brown eyes hazy. The smile at his mouth was… markedly different from the man who’d first arrived, however. There was something almost sinister in it, something that sent a faint shudder down the Detective’s spine, though the power was unmistakable: just like Mason’s pheromones.

“Is something the matter, Adam?” Nate asked lightly, too-softly, his smile just a touch jagged at the corners, and unsurprisingly, being addressed in such a manner made the blond tense further, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course something’s the matter! What the hell’s wrong with you two?! We were supposed to find and protect the Detective, not turn them into our next meal!”

Nate’s chuckles were subtle and soft, darkness lurking beneath them like sharks beneath the surface of the water. “Don’t you see, Felix? The Detective has freed us, has shown us the way.”

“The way to what?! Being crazy?”

“You don’t understand,” Nate answered with a shake of his head, his gentle smile returning. “I haven’t felt this whole, this complete since before I was turned. Don’t you see? The Detective gives me – gives us – the strength to accept every part of ourselves, even those parts we despise the most.”

“It… doesn’t hurt anymore, Felix,” Mason stated, finally seeming to come back to himself as he gently released the Detective’s arm with a soft kiss. “I can… control them, for once.” His eyes were almost glassy as turned them towards Adam and Felix, his free hand balling into a fist as he let out a shaky breath.

Nate’s eyes narrowed in soft sympathy as he gingerly laid a hand on Mason’s shoulder, and to his credit Mason didn’t even flinch or jostle it free. “I’m so pleased for you, Mason,” Nate murmured, offering his shoulder a squeeze even as his hold on the Detective’s waist tightened.

“This can’t be real. It just can’t. Don’t you think if the Agency could have helped with the pheromones–”

“But they couldn’t, Felix,” Nate responded in consternation, his hand lifting from Mason’s shoulder to instead pinch at the brim of his nose. “Only our Detective here is capable of such wonder,” he added, quiet chuckles tumbling from his mouth.

“Wait wait wait. Hold on a sec! What are you guys saying?”

“I am uncertain what this Detective has done to you, but you cannot trust them. Look at what they did to Murphy! Does it not bother you?” Adam tried to appeal to Nate’s more logical side, though he merely offered his oldest friend a sad, pitying smile.

“It bothers me less than knowing I am now who I was always meant to be,” Nate answered simply, Mason nodding firmly as if to drive home the point.

“What has the Agency done for you, Adam? Truly? Endangered your life and the lives of your friends for almost nine centuries? All in the name of protecting others? They would sacrifice our lives in a trice if it meant their agenda was furthered,” Nate countered after several seconds, his eyes blazing with a rare, charismatic fire.

Whatever Adam had been expecting, Nate’s argument had certainly not been it. His face began to pale, though whether Nate was getting through or because he now knew Nate to be lost to him was impossible to tell.

“Don’t you wish to be at peace? With your past? With all the loss? You’ve fallen on your sword in grief for as long as I’ve known you, never living your own life and instead using the Agency as a crutch to move forward. Please , Adam. This is a chance for us to be–”

“Brainwashed?!” Felix shot back angrily, his lips tremulous as his fists tremored at his sides.

“Whole. Who we were meant to be, rather than leashed hounds sicced on our prey,” Nate corrected him just a little sharply.

“I will not allow you to leave and desert the Agency,” Adam finally stated flatly, his voice a curious monotone devoid of tautness. Was he resigned? Or was he regretting that he would have to face his friends in an altercation if he wished to do as he claimed?

“Don’t be an idiot.” Mason rolled his eyes as his hand twitched at his side before reaching for the Detective’s wrist. He seemed to ease as the pad of his thumb brushed over the Detective’s steady pulse, though there was still a knot of unease between his shoulder-blades. “You heard what Murphy said, and you remember what happened earlier when you tried. Under normal circumstances we probably couldn’t win, but with the Detective’s blood? You don’t have a chance.”

“And yet, still I must.”

It was then the Detective noticed Nate catching Mason’s gaze, the pair exchanging a wordless conversation before Felix and Adam both disappeared from view. The Detective gasped when a pair of arms rounded their torso, though before Felix could so much as take another step, Mason was on him: shoving him back with the flat of his palm at his shoulder until he careened into a support with a soft, tapered cry. Mason’s expression twinged uncomfortably before glancing back towards the Detective.

“You good?”

The Detective merely smiled before nodding, though quiet grunts garnered their attention moments later: Nate and Adam grappling and neither seeming to make headway.

“Snap out of it, Nate!” Adam ground out, though Nate merely shook his head with an amused smile.

“I am well in control of my faculties, my friend,” Nate answered with that slightly-jagged smile from earlier, though he released his hold on Adam’s hands as the Detective stepped closer.

It was easy to see Adam swallow as the distance between them grew smaller, though even as he made to step back, Nate grabbed a hold of his wrist to keep him in place. The blond struggled in his hold, his eyes widening in realization at just how much stronger Nate was now; he hadn’t been bluffing after all.

“There is no need for violence here, Adam,” the Detective whispered gently, approaching him as warily as one might have a wounded animal preparing to lash out. “But you cannot pretend you are unaffected by the blood, either.” His pheromones weren’t nearly as pronounced as Mason’s, and the Detective didn’t miss the sudden tightening of his jaw as he forced his gaze elsewhere.

“No on is going to harm you here, Adam, save perhaps for yourself,” the Detective chuckled lightly, taking a few moments to marvel at the man’s physique. “I will not force this on you, Adam. It will be your choice,” the Detective added softly, tenderly even, the tips of two fingers lightly brushing against the stark line of his jaw. They’d expected resistance, struggling even, but understanding warmed in Nate’s eyes as he released Adam’s wrist, and the blond finally lifted his head and pinned the Detective in place with so pleading a look it nearly broke their heart.

How long had he been in such agony? How had no one seen it for so long? Or if they had, how had they allowed it to fester and grow into such a tangle of pain and guilt and grief?

“We’ll never allow you to be alone again, Adam. You will never bear your sorrow and suffering alone again.” Previously-icy eyes warmed, daring to hope for one, fearful moment; the Detective could see him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing as thirst tightened in his throat.

The Detective hadn’t even seem him move, but then his imposing form was suddenly inches away, his breath warm on the side of their neck.

“ADAM! WHAT ARE YOU–”

Felix’s screams were cut short when Adam’s mouth lowered to the Detective’s neck, his fangs barely scraping the skin before the blood began to cloy across his tongue and a full-bodied moan reverberated throughout him.

“No. No no no no no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.” Felix was sobbing now, his fists banging on the concrete floor as he watched helplessly. Nate’s expression tightened uncomfortably, and Mason shifted his weight at the sight and sound of it, but only once Adam finally pulled away with a shaky breath and an overheated hand in the middle of the Detective’s back did the Detective turn towards Felix.

“You aren’t alone, Felix. We’re all still here,” Nate tried to comfort him, though Felix merely lifted his head and glared heatedly, his bare teeth bone-white and stark against the dark backdrop of his skin.

“The hell you are!” Felix tossed back, trying to sound angry though only succeeding in sounding… broken. “What happened to family?!”

“We’re still your family, Felix,” Adam tried to reassure him softly.

“No you’re not! I don’t know what you are now, but you’re not the family I know, not the family I LOVED!”

Everyone flinched at the accusation, though it was the Detective who pulled away to stagger closer, a frown tugging at their lips. They couldn’t explain it, but they could almost feel Felix’s pain, could almost see it emanating from him if they focused their energy.

“Stay away from me!” he snarled before the Detective reeled back and landed heavily on a knee, the jostle sending pain arcing up the Detective’s hip with an exaggerated hiss. The brief flit of pain momentarily wiped the snarl from Felix’s face, and his lips parted – presumably for an apology – before he promptly snapped it shut again. “Why? Why did you take them from me?” Felix asked in a small voice, his golden eyes full of unshed tears.

“I didn’t take them from you,” the Detective responded softly, reaching a hand towards him. “They’re all waiting for you, and so am I. This is your home, Felix. Your family. Full of people who love you.” It was so obvious now, his need to be accepted, to be loved, but even knowing that… didn’t make the Detective’s words any less true or real. Not doubt the others’ feelings were having some effect, but the Detective found they meant every word. Nothing would feel complete without Felix, and the Detective eased a soft, reassuring smile onto their face as Felix sniffled, his indecision growing.

“I choose you, Felix,” the Detective spoke barely above a whisper, their words instantly making Felix gasp and catch their gaze. “No one else will do. Only you.” The Detective practically toppled back when Felix launched himself at them, his arms firm around them as he sobbed into their shoulder and held on for dear life.

The others were kneeling on the ground half a second later, one of Nate’s hands settled warmly on Felix’s shoulder while Mason exchanged a fleeting smile with Adam.

“...I think I get it now.” Felix pulled back from the Detective’s embrace after wiping his eyes sheepishly, his smile still watery. “Well. I guess if I’m going to be inducted into this weird-ass little family…,” he purposefully let his voice trail off, and Mason snickered as Nate let out a chuckle.

“You smell delicious, Detective,” Felix rumbled against their ear, licking a line just below that same ear before pressing the tips of his fangs into the skin there as gently as possible. His eyes rolled back into his head at the taste, at the overwhelming sensation of rightness or outright pleasure it afforded him, but perhaps even more intoxicating was the power. He got it now, why the others had wanted this. Why had he fought it for so long? He couldn’t even remember anymore.

“We should… go,” the Detective scarcely managed to get out, light-headedness beginning to make them dizzy.

“Agreed.” Adam was the one to answer, and several hands helped steady the Detective as they got back to their feet. “The Agency will… not be pleased with what happened here,” he then added, perhaps a little unnecessarily, his lips thinning.

“Do you care?” Mason asked with a raised eyebrow, and for the first time since meeting the Detective, Adam grinned.

“For once, I cannot say that I do. Let’s move.”

By the time the Agency arrived, there was no trace of Unit Bravo or the Detective they'd been sent to save.

Ending Note: Yes, yes, there was a reason for the order of the vampires who feasted on the Detective's blood! Given how strong Mason's pheromones are, I figured he'd be the easiest to manipulate through them, and then Nate's... er, bloodlust? Or rather, how shaky his control seems to be at times??? I went back and forth as to who should be next after Nate, but I like how things ended up. Felix's entire story is about people WANTING him, and that was a big Deal I wanted to hammer home. I mean, yes, there's lots of mental fuckery going on, but I hope I got the point across that there's genuine feelings and affection in there too.

Anyway! The scene I wanted to write isn't even in this chapter so expect another at some point! Reblogs/comments are especially loved, but likes are cool too if you're so inclined c:

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