#for either haley or nate!

[und3rlnd]

❝ why am i the one in trouble? i didn't throw the party! and i wasn't even drinking! ❞ — @anxietytold

[not-poignant]

hopefully this hasnt been asked before, but do you have personal favourite characters? (maybe from each series since sometimes theyre characterized differently)

Tbh anon they're usually the ones I'm writing the most! Like... Mosk and Gwyn and Efnisien and Augus and Gary etc.

I'm pretty biased that way, I just write the characters I love the most. :D

In terms of side characters, I'm very fond of the Raven Prince, Temsen, and others that I've written into fanfiction. I'm also really enjoying Haley and Harvey in A Stain that Won't Dissolve.

If there's a character I really like, I usually end up either having them as a perspective character (like Efnisien in Falling Falling Stars), or I try and give them more 'screen time' (like Temsen). And that's pretty true in everything I write.

There's lots of different reasons to really enjoy a character, and the reasons vary depending on the story and the character's role. Like, I really love Nate in Underline the Blue, but he wasn't actually a favourite in FFS (because he was an antagonist), but I knew he could be really strong in his own story and I get to enjoy him on his terms in UtBlue.

So sometimes a character isn't a favourite but I know they'll become a favourite in their own story. :D

[queen-scribbles]

......yep okay talk about Mason plz 😛

ALRIGHT THEN, YOU ASKED FOR THIS

Cut again bc spoilers and there will be lots of shouting bc Mason's route is amazing. I think--both friend and romance--he's my fave in book 3.(Nate's still winning overall romance, but Mason wins b3) Warning: this clocks in at about 2700 words, just so you know what you're getting into. It's longer than a lot of my fics. xD

This is gonna be Kasey specific, obviously, even if all the high notes I love in general. There's just some... flavor to it bc of the way she's engaging his romance. (also, this is pretty stream of consciousness, so I can't promise smooth transitions😅)

The way just your touch helps when he's getting overwhelmed in Addie's room feels like a good place to start- NO WAIT. If you try to bluff about not being worried over the bounty and he calls you on it and swears to have your back. Half of why Kasey kissed him so hard there is it's her go-to reaction when Mason incites strong emotion in her, even if desire/attraction isn't precisely the right match for the moment.

I know I already screamed a lot about the bakery scene when the demo came out, BUT I finally settled on which option Kasey would pick there. She's still oblivious/in denial, so there's no hurt to Mason's "She's only seeing me naked," comment, and no confusion either. Lil Miss Snark shot back with the one about him seeing HER naked (which ooooooboy did that pay dividends later :3) and then didn't get anything flirty/snarky/teasing back (poor Haley, watching this unfold) and that confused her. Snark and innuendo has been their Thing since day fucking one. So the weirdness of leaving it like that has her on edge and makes her snappish and downright vicious with Bobby("I'd say it's a pleasure but we both know I'd be lying" and kicked him out of the station, it was great)and she genuinely can't figure out why it's bothering her that Mason didn't play along.

And then we get him actually using her name when she shows up at the Warehouse soaking wet and covered in plaster mud. Felt a little like someone had punched her in the lungs, she had to fight the reflexive urge to call him 'sunshine' and make the weirdness go away. And then on top of that he actually apologized--for something that didn't seem like a big deal to her, at least on the surface, but the way her heart skips a beat, maybe it did matter--and Kasey manages to actually be sincere for five minutes to accept the apology with 0 snark and explain about needing a place to stay etc. Insert some flirting/innuendo/giving Nate a headache while handing out flyers and she feels like their equilibrium is back. They're okay, they're good, still casual, though ngl it does feel nice to hear him say her name every once in a while....

And then. AND THEN. The Trapper fight. And Sin. and OH MY GOD. Mason throws himself in front of Trapper to protect her, gets zapped instead of her and she is just. Terrified isn't a strong enough word. She doesn't realize it's anything more than panic/adrenaline in the moment, but it's a miracle she didn't leap on that Trapper like a feral wolf. Which is only compounded when Sin shows up and Mason is afraid for her. He tries to hide it when he tells her to run, but her main hobby is people watching so good luck with that, buddy.

And with the adrenaline of the whole encounter, she hasn't even really had time to full unwind and process it before Mason is staring down Adam on her behalf.

Not only that but he's insistent on backing her up. Same guy who, what, six months ago(less?) "found this all unnecessary" and barely wanted anything to do with her is now adamant about watching her back and keeping her safe and then waits up super late for her to get home(whole separate screaming session about him considering this home) and doesn't feel a need for innuendo with her when they talk.

"Thrown for a loop" is an understatement. Flabbergasted, maybe works. For Kasey, anyway. I was having a meltdown about him being vulnerable with her wrt what he remembers of his past, and the crystal(he didn't even want her to look at when they first met) and then just saying a genuine goodnight without trying to get in her pants or anything. AMAZING.

And then his mood starts off weird at combat training and he's gruff and irritated(and MASON WITH A BUN. MASON WITH A BUN) and he's being grumpy bc he can't figure out why the thought of Sin taking her away from him is so terrifying.

The patrol loop after the blood drive is just.. hoo boy. Kasey was bitten on the wrist by Murphy and there have been some Moments with those scars on Mason's route and I got another one to add to the list

just that he's so gentle. That would be sweet from any of them but from Mason it makes me scream internally even before we get to the emotional KO that is

I love sO MUCH when gruff/abrasive characters are gentle with the people they care about, and not only is that happening here, he still warns her that just bc Bravo won't hurt her, there's not many other supernaturals that will care so she still needs to be cautious. (It's just a bonus--for me--that he's clearly affected by the conversation even if he's not sure why :3) And also!!! Kasey-specific note here: Her trust is not easily given. It was a cautious thing even before Bobby fucked her over in college, but him using her friendship like that really made her kinda hold people at arm's length, so the fact she trust Mason(and the rest of Bravo) with her literal life and her scars and other vulnerabilities is really uhhhh saying something even if she's denying what that something is

I played around a bit with Kasey's reaction to the stack of missing persons posters, and even if it's not the one I kept, Mason's reaction if you call him crying straight up slayed me

Just that mix of gruff almost-annoyance and "you clearly need me, I'm already on my way". (the others ask if you want them to come, Mason's just "yeah, I'm coming to see you")The beat between saying he doesn't like talking on the phone but will make an exception for you. The return to flirting/innuendo once you seem to be getting back equilibrium.

As I've mentioned, Kasey has Verda knowing about the supernatural, and that dinner with him and Eric was all kinds of awkward(she went slinky for her outfit bc this is Kasey)

BUT I very much enjoy both Eric's 👀👀👀 when Kasey pulled an "Idk what you're talking about" and a)Verda getting Mason to acknowledge there's a "Something" with the two of them even if he doesn't know what it is and b) Mason calling him on his reaction to the supernatural making him a not so-great-friend. BUT THE REAL KICKER came after, when they were leaving, and this happened

Just. He's essentially holding her hand. And he doesn't think to let go. Mason, who hates and is extremely pained by physical contact(he flinches when Adam touches him in one of the bff/ro scenes) willing maintain contact for several seconds and only withdraws when she says something. (I stand by my expectation Mason's gonna figure out What They Are before Kasey does, lmao)

I absolutely loved the car sex scene(she's been teasing him with that long enough xD), especially bc Kasey 100% told him to apologize to her car, but the biggest takeaway for purposes of this is HE HESITATES. He hesitates to just look at her for an extra few moments before kissing her again. (and btw I ran with each taking initiative and HOLY HELL this will be one of the few times I go with letting Mason have initiative instead of Kasey. Whew.)

And we gotta talk about Mason not wanting more cigarettes when Felix offers to buy the bc that's... for something that might look like a little moment it's undeniably huge. The cigarettes have been his source of comfort, the way he makes it easier to Deal With Everything and he just casually turns down getting more of them. Bc he has her now(new addiction, indeed). For such a quiet thing, it shouts about the changing nature of their relationship and I loved it.

I--once again--played with reactions to arriving at the warehouse bc Kasey's still figuring out how she feels about that so she has some leeway, and I gotta say I love how Mason just bluntly calls you on your shit any time you try to lie about being fine when you aren't.

I will never be over him having the same calming effect on the detective as they do on him. 🥺🥺🥺Kasey has this whole snarky tough girl thing going and even when she tries to hide it, he sees through the bs and comforts her. He's blunt but gentle and it makes me scream...

..buuuuuut not as much as Mason's POV on the building cave-in. :3

No, no, I'm fine :)

ABSOLUTELY PEACHY :))))))) Totally not wrecked at all, not laying on the floor screaming internally or anything, why do you ask? I'm such a sucker for the whole "joking pet name accidentally becomes actual sincere term of endearment" (see: Taviloth and "city slicker") and this made me just a bit feral. ALSO the parallel to the house Mirrors scene in book 2 is killing me. The day Kasey calls him sunshine with affection rather than teasing I will throw myself into the sun, it will be too much. (Super easy to picture one of those gut-wrenching comics using "You Are My Sunshine" with them, btw)

And the aftermath made me lose my gd mind.

Kasey: *tries to snark as a way of covering how much today fucked her up*

Mason: *calls her on it while also being ready to help.* And he's volunteering to help(after sticking himself in a corner at the breakfast earlier in the story so he wouldn't get asked to contribute)

No innuendo, just support, my HEART. Kasey Irene, HOW are you still in denial, you're smarter than this. Though I suppose I can give you a pass this one time considering how much pain you're in.

He's so worried he's not even thinking, just wants to keep her safe, and I swear somehow every time he uses her name it both add three years to my life and take one away.

This mental image. I can't. I had to go take a walk before I could finish, bc the mental image of Mason standing fully clothed and soaking wet in the shower with her just to offer support is TOO MUCH. It's too much, I can't handle it. (Especially when you put it next to this or the "me being naked is more important to you, right?" comment from the bakery scene. She's naked, he's not, and he doesn't even seem to care. my fucking HEARTTTTTTT )

He's sitting with her. Just the fact that he's staying is *inarticulate yelling* enough, but he's in a chair. Not sitting on the bed, not laying with her, sitting in a chair to be with her and keep an eye on her but give her space. And that "You don't have to stand guard" //"I know, but I sure as hell want to." Mason is so gonna figure out he's in love with Kasey before vice versa.

And now we come to the totally-not-a-date scene, where Mason will ask, unprompted and genuinely curious, what you're thinking about and, this being Kasey, there's some sarcasm/teasing in the following conversation, but it's also so comfortable.

This is just banter. They're bantering and playing around and just comfortable with each other in a way beyond what's usually the case for people who're just seeing each other naked. :3

I do love the lingering obliviousness. Sure, Mason, it's that the crystal's not as full as you thought. Not that Kasey's presence/touch helped you recover faster or anything. Even though that's happened MULTIPLE TIMES. (Nate would be smirking so hard if he'd witnessed this interaction)

The whole scene with Roshaun(sidenote: RAT BABIES! <3) and how Mason reacts to even the suggestion of being sedated/vulnerable has me 200% sure I'm gonna want to kill some people when we learn his backstory. This is practically a full on panic attack, like, what level of hell did he go through that it incites this strong an instinctive reaction even when he can't remember the details?! (Unfortunately, since he's been a vampire ~100 years, there's decent odds the people responsible are already dead, unless they're also supernatural. But if they're still alive they WON'T BE after Kasey and Mallory get their hands on them)

The way Kasey's touch settles him(again), the way he deliberately takes her hand and doesn't let go, like she's a lifeline(she probably is) "I asked you to come because I wanted you here" alksdafbalfbjabslk

onefear.jpg There was a patreon short story that touched on that, too, and I really wanna go dig it up now >.> I smell plot threads. Angtsy, angsty plot threads.

Someday I'll make Kasey be more genuine(orrrr maybe it'll happen if I do a Janine/Mason run) in the convo when you get back to the warehouse, bc you know my girl went with the

even if it led to a moment of what could be taken as genuineness, even if she meant it more as flirting. "When it comes to you, you know I am." KASEY. GIRL. Yes, sure, that applies in a "kiss/sex me right now, you handsome bastard" sense, but also in the sense of her just always leaping at the chance to spend time with him, regardless of if it will involve sex or not.

And then you get an actual genuine smile out of him, and more gentleness, and she doesn't know how to deal.

And then we come to this

where Kasey kisses the vampire harder to not have to deal with the possibility this is almost definitely more than just seeing each other naked. "No, no, nothing more than just that he's hot and we enjoy having sex and he's a really good kisser. No deeper than that."

*clutches chest* SOFT MASON, GENTLE MASON, HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE AND DOESN'T REALIZE IT YET MASON

AND THE LEAD UP TO THE AUCTION JUST UGHGGHGHGH

Pardon me while I go lay down and just... melt into a puddle of emotion. The compliment that's not flirtatious. The confidence in her abilities. "YOU THINK I'D BE ABLE TO COPE WITHOUT YOU NOW?" ?!???!?!?!?!

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SIR. I'm loving this progression from "it's just sex" to "idk what I'd do if I lost you", but my heart can't take it. You being so vulnerable--in front of so many people--is gonna be the death of me.

my heaaarttttttttttt. "Can I have tonight?" CAIT.EXE IS NOT RESPONDING And then--if you do the detailed scene with him taking initiative--it's slow and gentle and deliberate and he doesn't pull away when you wrap your arms around him, the significance of which will escape Kasey for a while. and there's a gentle lil neck kiss afterwards and they CUDDLE until she falls asleep

And then. THEN THEN THEN *pounds table repeatedly*

he FUCKING.

STAYS.

I am so beyond emotionally compromised by that I just *screams*

He stays and

and then when he leaves he tucks her back in and runs his finger down her cheek without even realizing what he's doing and SIR. HOW DARE.(If she'd been awake enough to know he did that, her denial would have several very large cracks in it istg.)

I have hit the image limit(RIP), so text! The bff convo with Adam is so good, and Mason doesn't deny that the way Kasey "has him" is different from the rest of UB, and isn't sure how she feels about that and calls himself "too much of a fucking coward" to find out and aaaahhhhh this would have been Kasey's "tu omnia" moment if she would just WAKE UP and OVERHEAR the conversation. Why do you have to sleep so soundly baby girl???

Wrapping up with the party. oooh boy. "I wouldn't survive thirty seconds in this circus without you." Kasey, he's definitely serious and not joking. Mason, babe, the "in this circus" was unnecessary bc you've mentioned needing her/not knowing what you'd do without her several time in general already. And he TAKES A FUCKING SHOT during NHIE on the "nhie fallen for a colleague". I think I rb'ed a post yesterday where someone in the notes said Felix must've been in the bathroom or something and missed that to not raise absolute HELL about the implications. LIKE. Silent but very very obvious admission this is Not Just Sex anymore, even if he doesn't know what it is, even if it's just a "something" it's THERE in his opinion. So yeah. 100/10 romance, I need more desperately, and will be sitting here vibrating until we get book 4 or at least teasers. xD

And here are several cookies (and cake!)for anyone who made it this far through my borderline-unhinged commentary 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🎂🎂🍰🍰🍰🎂

[lykegenia]

Like Glitter And Gold Ch.13

COMPLETE Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Characters/pairings: Nate Sewell x f!Detective Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: Wayhaven has had its ups and downs in the past few  months, and  for Detective Leah Kingston, dealing with vampire serial  killers and mysterious plagues has become something of a routine. Good  thing, too.  The body of a murdered supernatural has just been discovered  in the   alley behind a local bar - and everything, really, just gets  weirder   from there.Between the search for the dead man's killer,  keeping the   Agency at bay, and trying to navigate the new, uncertain  waters of a   relationship with a very suave vampire boyfriend, Leah has  her work cut  out solving the mystery, especially when it beomes clear  she's hunting  more than just a murderer. Additional tags: murder mystery, fluff, angst

Read on AO3

--

If there’s one thing that can improve a shitty day, it’s a cup of fancy tea and a cinnamon swirl from Haley’s, which is why Leah suspects Tina was so desperate to get her out of the station. Instead of taking their usual corner, they’re eating in the car for better privacy, brushing flakes of pastry into the footwell and aimlessly people-watching as the sun sets behind the buildings of the square. It definitely beats staring at a computer screen – or hiding behind it, as Tina insists she’s been doing.

It’s been three days since official news of the arrest went public, long enough for Bobby to pen a grudging article about the case being solved. Thankfully he’s kept the salacious details to a bare minimum, a run-of-the-mill crime of passion next to the sensational reveal of the Pegasus’ lost treasure, which for him has the added bonus of inspiring reams of editorials and interviews with the bigwigs of the town.

He's welcome to the attention. There’s a lot missing from the bare-bones report she had to write for station records, everything from a fudged motive to the significance of the murder weapon, and Bobby’s flaunting creates an easy smokescreen to excuse the lack of detail. The Captain’s only thoughts when she emailed him the final forms were grief for the whisky, salvaged from the lakebed only to be squirreled away into the mayor’s private collection.

The separate report for the Agency has taken longer as it contains not only the full details of the case but also the measures taken to keep said details contained, with the assurance that none of the town’s residents are any the wiser about the existence of the supernatural. If she’s been more meticulous than strictly necessary, well, it just means she wants to do a thorough job – and it has nothing to do with wanting to avoid Unit Bravo and anywhere she might happen to run into them.

Tina, of course, knows her too well, and traces the line of her thoughts as if they were sketched out in front of her.

“So… what’s Nate’s opinion on all this craziness?”

Leah tears a shard of pastry from her danish. “He’s three hundred years old, he’s probably seen it all before.”

“Not what I meant,” Tina retorts. “And three hundred? Seriously?” She blows a stunned breath through her cheeks. “I meant about Samantha Harrs being the killer.”

“I don’t know…” She’s been trying not to think about it. “He wasn’t happy. But I’m not happy either – the Agency just sweeps everything under the rug like it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s probably not why he’s upset.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look,” Tina huffs, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “the murderer you just unmasked killed her partner because she found out he wasn’t human and it sent her postal, and you and Nate are in the middle of some weird disagreement. I don’t know how common it is for humans and supernaturals to be in relationships with each other where the human knows, but it can’t be a great reminder of how everything can go horribly wrong for him.”

Leah can only stare. Could that really be the source of Nate’s strange defensiveness the last time they talked? She’s been so busy trying to sort out her own feelings, the possibility never occurred to her.

“And they made you the detective,” Tina remarks, when the thought finally settles.

“You didn’t want the paperwork.”

“You should talk to him,” she says. “And not just because you’d be stupid to let someone who looks like that and who’s so clearly into you just walk away.”

It’s easier said than done.

“Sometimes I wonder what he wants.”

“Maybe ask him?”

“And what if I don’t like the answer?” Leah asks. What if it’s the answer she’s afraid of most?

Tina shrugs. “I guess you’ll be moping forever, then.”

Without the energy for a proper reply, Leah turns her attention to the passersby on the street. As much as she wants to protest that the situation is complicated, that she never expected her life to turn in this direction, or even that dealing with a relationship is by far the most stressful thing she’s ever done, the simple heart of the matter is that the path she’s walking is one she can’t see, and it’s terrifying. A conversation is inevitable – not least because she’s scheduled for a debrief at the warehouse in a few hours – but she has no idea what to say. How to explain herself.

--

“Is there anything else you want to add?” Rebecca asks, a few hours later. She’s sitting at the kitchen table in a charcoal grey business suit, prim as ever as she scans the contents of the manilla folder in front of her, like a teacher marking homework for an underperforming student. Adam hasn’t deigned to sit, and instead looms over her right shoulder, arms folded but otherwise at ease.

Leah shakes her head. At some point she’ll have to talk to Verda about the medical report, and hopefully persuade him to keep his silence once the case goes to trial. It won’t be a pleasant conversation, but that’s between them. The Agency has nothing to do with it.

Adam raises an eyebrow at her technically-not-a-lie, but says nothing.

“If that’s all, then it’s getting late.”

As she stands, Rebecca looks up from the file as if surprised her daughter doesn’t want to hang around for a cuppa and a nice chat. “Of course, I’ll need to file your report in any case.” She chews her lip for a second. “Leah? You did good work on this.”

“I did my job,” she replies. “I don’t need praise.”

The discomfort is better in the corridor without Rebecca’s scrutiny on the back of her skull, but now the final barrier has fallen away, the last excuse keeping her from Nate. He must know she’s in the building, but he’s nowhere in sight. It’s telling. Guilt twists deeper in her gut.

As she winds through the warehouse the feeling hardens into worry at what he’ll say when she finally finds him – if he lets her find him at all. A part of her wants him to be on patrol in a deliberately far corner of Wayhaven, avoiding her, because that would be easier; it would feel deserved, and then she could curl herself up and hide away somewhere in the hope that the problem would go away.

But how to make him understand the alarms that wake in her head every time he puts himself forward? It’s mean and it’s ridiculous, but his earnestness chips away at the protective wall she’s built around old scars. Still deep in thought, she nearly collides with Felix in the corridor, his arms full of cat food, and gets a worried, sympathetic look for her trouble.

“Nate’s in the library – he’s, uh, not busy or anything. Just so you know.”

“Thanks, I was looking for him.”

Sure enough, faint scales of classical music echo down the hallway as she approaches the library. The plush carpet has muffled her footsteps, but as she pauses outside the door to steady herself, there’s little chance he hasn’t heard her. And yet, she can detect no audible movement from inside. What if he’s hoping she’ll walk away? Perhaps… Yes. If he doesn’t want to talk, she can pretend she only wandered in to look for a misplaced hoodie, or a notebook, and bid him an impartial good evening – and then hopefully make it to her room before the tightness in her chest can overwhelm her entirely.

The doorknob under her palm is cool brass, its raised decoration pressing smooth bumps into the skin of her palm as she turns it and pushes into the room. Nate is over at the far end with a pile of books balanced on one hand, frowning down at a piece of card in the other as if it’s in a language e doesn’t understand. When she crosses the threshold, he glances up, his surprise feigned but his smile genuine enough, even if there’s more wariness than warmth hidden in its corners.

She doesn’t go closer, greets him instead with a self-conscious little wave. “Hey.”

“Hi… Have you seen Adam and Rebecca?”

“Yeah, I just submitted my report.”

“Good.” He nods, brittle. “It’s good that everything’s wrapped up.”

“For now.”

A shrug, and another silence falls between them, sharp enough that she fights the urge to tug her sleeves down over her hands, to shrink away from the inevitable blow.

“Look,” she starts, and rolls her lips together. “I just wanted to say, it was awful, what Samantha did. I – Tina said –” no, Tina’s not supposed to know “– it’s occurred to me that this case might have seemed a little… close to home, because Russell was a supernatural, and stuff. But doing what she did, I – the way she reacted wasn’t right.”

He sets the books on the shelf when her voice falters, turning towards her like a compass, but her courage falters and her gaze stays riveted on the pattern of flamingos on his socks.

“And… in case it was a concern, I just needed you to know I would never – I mean I couldn’t –” She shakes her head, waves off the unfinished sentence. “It doesn’t matter. Ignore me. I’ll get out of your way.”

She’s barely reached for the door when a hand catches her arm, light as a cobweb.

“Leah…” Nate breathes. “Stop. Did you really think I feared you capable of murder?”

She shrugs, doesn’t dare look at his face. “I don’t know? You were upset, I don’t know what to think, and in case you’ve missed the newsflash, I’m really bad at this.”

“At what?”

“This,” she replies, gesturing between them. “Being a normal person. Not fucking things up. Relationships are something other people get to have – I’m just the one who clears up the mess when they go wrong.”

A gentle finger curls under her chin and tips her head upwards, but she still refuses to meet his eyes. That way lies the ruin of the last fine thread of her control.

“You haven’t fucked things up,” he tells her gently, brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

The gesture is what finally lifts her gaze to his face, every muscle tensed against her body’s urge to tremble. He looks pained.

“Whatever I have said to make you think so,” he says, “I wish you’d tell me.”

“You don’t get it.” She jerks her head away from his touch. “I don’t get to have things like you. You’re so… so nice. So interested in me. The way you look at me sometimes, it feels like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop – wondering what you really want from me. It’s stupid but I can’t help it and it’s exhausting. I thought I could handle it and that I’d get over myself so you wouldn’t have to deal with it, but then Samantha turned out to be the murderer, and there was the picture in the paper, and then –”

The rest of the words are swallowed by the cashmere softness of his jumper as he wraps her in a hug. Stunned, it’s all she can do to breathe in his scent, to register the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear or the thread of fingers into her hair.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs after a long moment of silence.

“What?” She tries to push away. “No. I’m apologising. I’m the one who –”

“I thought I was being obvious,” he interrupts, though he loosens his hold. “It didn’t occur to me that my actions might be read as insincere.”

“Probably because a normal person can fucking read.”

Nate sighs. “It seems unfair to argue for normalcy in someone as extraordinary as you.”

She should have known he wouldn’t take her seriously. Annoyance hisses between her teeth as she tries to disentangle herself again, but he only lets her get to arms’ length before he catches her once more.

“Leah, stop. You’re right.” He turns a palm upwards against her cheek. “I’ve been so consumed by my own feelings that I didn’t take the time to make sure of yours. I wish you’d asked,” he adds, but quiet enough for it to not feel like an accusation.

“Nobody likes someone who’s clingy,” she snaps, her gaze once again drifting to the sofa, the rows of books that line the walls, anywhere but him.

“That’s not what I think of you,” he says, as if he can see right through to the wellspring of bitterness she’s buried deep. “You are brave, and driven, and one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. I hope you believe me.”

And just like that, he’s disarmed her.

“Well when you come right out and say it…” she grumbles, with another inelegant shrug.

“I think I’ll keep saying it,” he replies, with a crinkle of amusement in his smile. “Until you stop doubting it.”

She snorts. “Not sure it works like that. Ugh, I’m sorry. I want to be better, I just…”

With a hum, he draws her back into an embrace, tension easing out of him when this time she returns the gesture. “It’s alright… And I’m truly sorry, too, for failing to see how much you were struggling with this. We’ll work it out.”

“Is there a seminar I can attend?”

A deep chuckle rumbles against her cheek, chased by the brief press of a kiss to the top of her head. Leah, unable to remember ever receiving such a fond gesture, burrows deeper into his chest and tries to steady her breathing, to push away the conviction that he deserves better.

“I have something for you,” he says after a while.

Muffled against the soft scratch of what is probably actually cashmere, she grins. “That sounds like a Mason line.”

“I should hope I have a little more subtlety,” he teases. “And it’s two things, really. They’re in the kitchen.”

Despite not wanting to move, she lets him take her hand to lead the way. The corridors are empty, perhaps because the other vampires have picked up on the uneasy mood and decided not to get caught in any crossfire, but it’s nice to have the quiet, and Nate’s warm hand secure in hers even after she spilled all her fears to him. Every so often as they walk he glances to her, swinging their hands like they ought to be skipping through a field of wildflowers.

When they get to the kitchen, he leaves her at the island and crosses to one of the upper cupboards. A cacophony of sweet and savoury odours pours out from the rows of small, uniform jars that fill the shelves.

“Nice hiding place,” she comments.

He grins. “I like to think so.”

He takes down a small, oblong package and hands it to her. The plain brown paper comes away easily to reveal a simple A5 picture frame, already mounted with a photo.

She bites her lip. “This is the picture Bobby took.”

Even a second time, the vulnerability on display constricts unpleasantly in her chest, a curl of shame for how easily she got caught. And yet, something about this particular version of the image is off – its edges are crisper than they should be, with a gloss from high-quality photo stock.

“You didn’t cut this out of the paper.”

“No…” Nate has the grace to look abashed. “I went to see Bobby and asked him for the master copy, as well as any others he’d made.”

“And he just gave them to you?”

He ducks his shoulders in a brief shrug. “He might have needed a little persuasion. I also might have suggested that it would be better for his health if he refrained from running any more such speculative articles in the future.”

“You threatened him?” she checks. Leaving aside the fact that she’s pretty sure using pheromones on civilians is against some sort of Agency code, revealing anything supernatural to Bobby in particular feels like poking a leopard with a short stick. “Does Adam know?”

“No, Adam doesn’t know.” Another shrug. “I meant what I said the other day – he shouldn’t have done what he did.”

Underneath his concern, the ever-present gentleness he tries so hard to project, his voice is betrayed by a note of anger that rings like cold steel, the predator he could become if he ever let himself loose. Leah has to look away, unused to the idea of such an effort on her behalf.

“Why give it to me?” she asks.

Nate has stepped closer, one reverent hand playing with the stray wisps of hair around her face. “Because Bobby Marks’ photography skills far exceed his manners,” he says, “and it reminds me of a beautiful day spent in your company. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the best way to avoid being hurt is to take an enemy’s weapons from them and turn them to a different purpose.”

With a heavy sigh, Leah considers the photo again. “Pretty and wise. How do you cope?”

He chuckles. Soft fingers trace the line of her jaw as he leans in, and with a nervous swallow her gaze drops to his mouth. Even after only three days – hardly an eternity – getting to kiss him again is like the prospect of rain in a desert, her heart a seed bursting into flower at the merest drop of water as she presses close and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I almost forgot the other thing,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Do we really need it?”

“I want to share it with you.”

This time, he reaches into one of the bottom cupboards to pull out a pair of cut-crystal tumblers, and then into another for a dark, scuffed bottle, which he presents to her with all the pomp of a waiter in a fancy restaurant delivering the wine list. The label is faded, crinkled into the rough texture paper gets when it’s been soaked and then left to dry, and instead of a modern plastic film around the neck, the stopper is held in place with a thick daub of bluish wax.

“Don’t tell me that’s from the Pegasus?” Her hand stretches out of its own accord, riveted by this small, insanely valuable piece of Wayhaven’s history.

“One of the salvage team owed me a favour,” he explains, and sets the bottle on the counter. “The mayor has agreed that a portion of the proceeds will go to Stanley Harris to make up for his great-grandfather’s treatment after the wreck, and the rest is going to fund various social projects around town.”

“No doubt with a healthy commission left aside for himself – Walter Greene must be thrilled.” She probably shouldn’t relish as much as she does the fact that, after fronting so much money for Russell’s diving equipment, the local crime boss won’t be seeing a penny from the proceeds. Even this single bottle is more than he’ll ever get to tuck away into his private stores.

And Nate is actually going to open it.

“You know,” she ventures, “that’ll probably be wasted on me. I’m not exactly a connoisseur.”

He offers her a smile. “The important part is not the whisky, it’s being able to share it with such excellent company.”

He even sweeps her hand up to kiss her knuckles. With lines like that, and those rich, doe-brown eyes drinking her in like she’s starlight, it’s hard not to sympathise with all those heroines of Victorian literature who had to keep piles of cushions within fainting distance. Strangely, it doesn’t bother her as much as it might have done a week ago. The talk they shared in the library has cleared the air enough to allow her the moment free of suspicion, easy and relaxed as he breaks the wax seal and pulls the cork with a faint pop. A rich, peaty aroma rises up from the dram of amber liquid he pours for each of them. She doesn’t say it, but philistine that she is, it hardly seems worth a hundred years of fuss.

“To successfully solving your case,” he says, raising his glass.

“To… clearing the air.”

The glasses clink with a pure, brilliant note. To her uneducated human nose, the smell of the whisky doesn’t impart any great epiphany on closer inspection, and if her face flushes with warmth it likely has more to do with Nate’s amusement at her caution than any particular effect of the alcohol. She takes a sip. At first, the taste is almost pleasant, mellow and smoky. And then the burning starts. She coughs, forcing it down, while Nate’s bites his lips together to keep from laughing at her grimace.

“Yeah, no,” she gasps. “I am not a fan of that.”

Rubbing a soothing line between her shoulder blades, he murmurs something she doesn’t catch and feathers a kiss against her hair.

“Are you alright?”

“I just choked on my whole salary.” Another cough. “I told you it would be wasted on me.”

“I wouldn’t call that performance a waste,” he teases.

“Ha ha. Aren’t you going to try it?”

One elegant eyebrow lifts, his gaze fixed on her as he sniffs, sips, savours the feel of it on his tongue. There’s rapture in his expression, a groan that falls from his lips in the brief instant his eyes slip closed. Her mouth goes dry.

“So, uh, is it good?” she asks, trying to ignore the flush of heat to her face.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, the bastard. His eyes open lazily, his smile lengthened into an easy smirk just shy of breaking into a full grin.

“It has some pleasant notes.”

Her weight shifts; her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

A hum. He takes her hand again and turns so that she’s between him and the counter – not trapped, but pinned all the same as he searches her face.

“I merely had a thought about what would make it sweeter.”

“Oh?” He’s close enough now that she can taste it on his breath.

“Mhmm. May I show you?”

[sevlawless]

4, 10, 15 for morgan and arabella <3333 (waiting on 4 like my life depends on it)

TY QUEEN <33 ALSO PLS STRAP IN FOR 4 BC IT IS A DOOZY

couple questions!

4. how do they compare to each other's exes? are they the same "type" or an upgrade/something different?

i wouldn't say bobby and morgan are the same bc they absolutely r not LMFAO but it's the same thing of "here for a fun time, not a long time" if that makes sense? bobby inevitably stayed for a long time which ended up doing arabella more harm than good but she loved him and they were all each other had for a while but what do u do when staying in a relationship like that isn't good for either one of them? 🤩 and with morgan i do feel like it’s different because even if she doesn't say it she shows arabella she cares and bobby didn't ever really care, not in the way he was supposed to? and whether morgan and arabella know it or not morgan is in it for the long haul! SKKSSJDBDB i don't think arabella would ever admit it but she does try n compare them sometimes in the sense that they both were just fun in the moment but then realizes that when they were both presented with an opportunity to stick it out, bobby ran for the hills and morgan stayed. and she thinks that says a lot.

with morgan it's only ever been hookups so obviously with arabella it's different! even morgan doesn't understand what's happening in canon LMFAO to quote nate "i'm enjoying watching you experience this" 🤩 and arabella is so laid back she doesn't really let anything slip that she wants something more and i feel like that concerns morgan just a little. but ofc arabella wants something more until she's backed into a corner she will never let that come out LMFAO

10. what was their last big fight? what did they learn from it?

arabella is so flighty i feel like she's looking for any type of reason to get out LMFAO AT FIRST ! and as if morgan would let her.

their last big fight SHOULD have been the bakery scene but arabella did NAWT care she was just embarrassed for haley's sake LMFAO and i think that says something because if it had been earlier in their relationship arabella would have been like "you know what? fuck this" and just dropped morgan but . seeing morgan apologizing on the chance that she was upset over what she said.. it made her feel some type of way!

i think they both learned from their non-argument LMFAO that arabella just wants honesty at the end of the day. i feel like arabella was more upset that morgan blatantly lied in the bakery like u cannot be serious you know? and with morgan i think she doesn't like tension between her and arabella and is a bit awkward in her apology bc she knows there's tension and it's her fault and she doesn't like it. as long as they're both up front with each other and communicate properly they'll be fine <3

15. what habits or characteristics have they picked up from each other?

since the rooftop scene, arabella has started taking more moments to look at the night sky and be alone with her thoughts and just process them. in a way, it keeps her grounded, and in another way, she knows that her and morgan are both looking up at the same sky and that comforts her <3

morgan has probably picked up some of arabella's bad driving habits LMFAO cussing somebody out for pulling out in front of them, the car behind her riding her bumper so she brake checks them, etc. it makes the rest of ub scared for their lives when they're in a car with either of them driving, but when it's just them they can defensively drive to their heart's content <3 SKKDNDDBDKDK

[crowsandmurder]

I love love love Naley, don't get me wrong. But ugh, Season 2 is rough. I hated how Haley was acting and you can say 'she can pursue her dreams'. But, she went about it, in such a screwed up way, especially after Nathan gave up High Flyers for her.

People love to villainize Nate, but he did all of him shit before he met her. Granted, that's unrealistic, given he was 16. But, even after she took off with Chris, he didn't kiss Taylor or anyone else. He flirted some with Peyton, yes. But, Peyton is his default to hit on, because they both know they wouldn't actually go there again.

Even throughout the seasons, Nathan never cheats. Carrie straight up assaults him, but it gets glossed over, because she's a woman.

I'm not saying crucify Haley over one kiss, when she was 17, but there was no much accountability for it, either. Let's be honest. Nate never really cared about the kiss. He cared she abandoned him.

I need to learn to skip season 2, when it gets to that point, because I stop liking her for a while. Season 3 isn't as bad, because they are trying to fix it, and he's being a dick and she's trying to show him she's not going anywhere.

It's not even the Chris of it all. I freaking loved Chris Keller in season 9. I just hated how selfish she was and how some people say Nathan makes her sacrifice her dreams for her, when he really doesn't.

[imprettydreamy]

@ofartistofhope

[I could see Quinn was shaken, and frankly, she had every right to be. In my mind, I knew this was my fault. I should have warned Quinn about Katie. Honestly though, it didn't seem like it would turn out to be an issue. When I respectfully and professionally told her we had decided to go in another direction, I didn't think I would see Katie again. Well, technically, I didn't, but she did make her presence known to Quinn tonight, which meant she was here for a reason. In my defense, I didn't know she was going to turn out to be some sort of psychotic stalker. I also didn't know she would research me or my background, nor did I think she'd stalk Quinn either. The girl was unhinged and needed to be stopped. Sure, I'd like to give the police enough credit that they'd catch and apprehend her, but I wasn't feeling all that confident in their skills, at the moment] We're going to be fine. I'll call for security cameras first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get extra locks on the doors and windows too. I can even have curtains and blinds put across each window too, so we have a bit more privacy, if you want. [Just tossing out any suggestion and option I could think of to help Quinn feel safer here] Really though, Quinn, if you don't feel safe here, we can either crash at a hotel, or even at Nate and Haley's tonight, if you want. Just tell me what would make you feel safe, and I'll do it. [I said as my hand lowered onto hers; curling my fingers gently around her palm, before giving her hand a light squeeze] And again, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about Katie. I know I should have, but for one, I didn't think she'd pull something like this, but two, I didn't want another reminder of Sarah. [I confessed. Losing Sarah the way I did already stung... It was crippling, to say the least, so at the thought of feeling like I was being stalked by someone who eerily resembled my deceased wife definitely didn't set well with me]

@ofartistofhope

[When I heard Quinn reassuringly say it would all be okay, I couldn’t help but to wonder who she was trying to convince more now: me or herself. Honestly, I always admired Quinn’s optimism and bubbly nature. Her positivity was one of the reasons why I loved her so much. In this case though, I couldn’t be sure that really was the case. Sure, if we can get the police to intervene, they are able to find her, and then they find reason to keep her locked up, than maybe it will be okay. At this point though, was there even enough cause for the police to intervene? Yes, she was attempting to impersonate my deceased wife, but without proof of that, this was Katie’s word against Quinn’s and mine. Not to mention, she hasn’t threatened us, or caused either one of us harm, which is obviously a good thing, but my point being, what exactly could the police intervene and act on now, based on the little Katie’s done? Either way, and for Quinn’s sake, especially, I placed the call to the police; explaining the circumstances. Just as expected, they more or less, gave me the brush off. Sure, they claimed to have jotted down the information, and said they would look into it and act, if it poses as a viable threat, but something in my gut told me they weren’t actually planning to do anything. I thought to myself as I ended the call] I gave them the information, and they said they would look into it, but judging by the fact that she hasn’t done anything they deem as “incriminating�� or against the law, they said there isn’t much they can do. Either way, we’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you. [I assured her; all the while hoping that was a promise I could keep. Sure, I would give my life to protect Quinn, but at this point, there really was no telling what Katie was expecting out of all of this now, and with that, what she may or may not have planned. Above all, I just hoped we had seen the last of her]

[veeples-archive]

summer’s ending

✨ pairing: mason x faustus valentine

✨ word count: 1k

✨ warnings: typical potty language, some feelings, unedited and written on my phone lol

my last piece for @wayhavensummer for day 7: celebrations! it has been such an emotional summer and i have loved being able to host it with my co-mods ( @losingface @possumgeist @masonscig @lilas ) and i am so grateful to them and to everyone who participated and put their heart and soul into this event!

✨✨✨

Summer’s finally broken.

The heat is still there making the back of Faustus’s neck damp, but there’s breeze that plays at his face promises cooler weather. Soon, in maybe a couple of weeks. The beginnings of fall ushered in with cool mornings and nights, pumpkins on porches and in coffee, and the first leaves tinging brilliant red yellow.

Too bad he won’t be here to see it.

Faustus stares down the dim street, cigarette limp in his mouth. Houses dark and slumbering, blinds and curtains drawn, yellow porch lights winking like stars.

Guiding the wayward back home.

There’s a party going on behind him — his party — and he should really be in there draining another beer, stuffed with pizza and pumpkin empanadas (Haley’s rendition was damn close to his vague memories of panaderías and their glass cases of pan dulce), and counting each time a muscle in Ava’s jaw jumps.

(Last count was at thirteen. Impressive, given that Faustus can manage that in the first hour he’s awake in the mornings and the party’s been on for twice that.)

He tells himself he’ll go back in in a minute. It’d be a damn shame to spend his own going away party sat alone on the curb like a broken hearted teenager at prom.

Dirt crunches behind him. Not alone then.

“Hey.”

Faustus doesn’t need to look to known it’s Mason who’s clambering down next to him and stretching his legs out to the asphalt. Mason doesn’t signal his presence with smoke anymore — he’d quit with Faustus a year ago without a word of argument — but Faustus just knows. Something about how proximity to Mason makes him feel better somehow. Slows his heart, calms his mind, his shoulders sagging in a way he can’t ever manage on his own.

Oh, and only Mason would snatch his cigarette from his mouth and crush it beneath his boot.

Quitting had been grueling.

“Hey yourself.” Mason says, already close enough for their thighs to touch. His arm remains at his side, but their hands are close enough to touch, should Faustus want it. “Ditching parties isn’t usually your thing.”

“Not ditching,” Faustus clarifies, a smile already creeping up to his face. “Needed a breather. Started to get caught up in my own thoughts.”

“Mm,” Mason hums. Another offering to refuse or take. Go on, or don’t. Mason will still be here either way.

“It’s sad, right?” Faustus toes at a rock. It clatters forward. “Leaving.”

Mason shrugs. “Dunno. Guess so. I never gave two shits about any place we’ve had to leave.”

“You know maybe I should be talking to Nate about this. Not exactly feeling the deep heart wrenching empathy here,” Faustus shoots him a toothless smile that makes Mason snort.

“I can go get him if you mean it.”

“You know I don’t.”

Faustus chuckles, turning back to the rock. He kicks it again. This time it clatters down farther, out of reach, behind the tire of Tina’s sleek motorbike.

“I mean I don’t think I’m feeling as sad as I should. It’s sad knowing I’m gonna miss tiny shit like, I dunno, the golden hue the town takes in the fall, Haley’s cinnamon spiced coffee cake, the classic monster movie specials the dollar theater does.” Faustus spreads his hands out in front of him like he could encompass all of the shades of Wayhaven between his hands. “The fall, the winter. The spring and next summer. I won’t be here for any of it and the main thing I can feel is… impatient.”

The limbo of it all, this in between place. One foot settled in Wayhaven, his other pressing down on the gas pedal of his car with his hand wrapped around the clutch.

“I’m so ready to leave this place. I’ll miss Tina, of course. Verda too. Everyone on the square.” Quieter. “Unit Bravo.” Then, louder. “But I’m ready to leave. My stomach feels like a twisted knot of buzzing nerves. I wanna go.” Desperate now. “I wanna go.”

Slate clean, a forgettable face glimpsed at in the street of some odd town in some part of the wide breadth of Americana. Seen for a second, forgotten the next.

Free in a way Faustus hasn’t been in a long fucking time.

“I’m ready for…”

He tongues his teeth looking for the words.

Faustus nudges Mason’s pinky, and in an instant Mason hooks them together.

“Me.” Faustus smiles. Genuine in a way that still feels a little weird, but easiest when it’s Mason who looks at him, knowing his raw ugliness the way no one else has, with that unassuming patience of his that encourages Faustus to try. “You.”

A smile twitches at Mason’s mouth. He thinks about kissing it in a new town, watching a different sunset, and that driving ache in him grows.

“Yeah,” Faustus nods. “I think I’m most excited for us, is all.”

Selfish, as Faustus ever was and ever would be. Leaving Wayhaven had always been in the back of his mind, some formless dream to escape to, but with the man he loves (loves! with every beat of his heart, every sigh from his lungs, Faustus loves Mason) seated next to him, he wants it more than he ever did before.

“Us.” Mason echoes. “Wherever that goes.”

Such fucking conviction. Faustus doesn’t wait to see what kissing Mason is like out on the road, he kisses him now, lets himself accept Mason’s arm around him.

The only constancy Faustus could ever need no matter where they go.

“God you make me into a fucking cheese ball, Foz,” Mason groans when they pull apart. Vulgar, always. Tender, always. “Disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Faustus kisses Mason again.

“Kinda gross to kiss someone disgusting.”

Mason kisses back.

“I have shit taste, what can I say?”

They kiss. Mason kisses him, and he kisses him, and he kisses him until Faustus does consider ditching the party because what could ever matter but Mason’s cheek under his palm and Mason’s hair between his fingers?

Nothing, Faustus thinks. Even when they do finally gather themselves up and slot back in between Nate discussing the latest book he’s been reading with Eric and Farah making some eyes at Tina that suggest they might be ditching, Faustus can’t imagine anything but the weight of Mason’s arm around his waist mattering more to him in this moment.

[hotchley]

Hi! I’d like to request 4 from Fluff with a platonic Hotch and literally whoever else you want, please!

I’m so happy for you for 500, congratulations!!! ❤️

Aah thank you! I went with JJ because it seemed to work. You may be wondering why this one is like this, it's because I don't want it to be the same as the Hotchley request (that I haven't started lol)

It's set... post whatever episode JJ comes back to the BAU properly. Features background Willifer because I love them <3 No proofreading as always. 1403 words.

4: "your hair is so soft!"

Trigger Warnings: mild sickness (Will and Henry have colds)

read on ao3!

JJ has always taken pride in her appearance. Even before she was media liaison, with her face constantly on the television, and a sense of professionalism essentially needed at all times, she took pride in looking nice. She liked applying her make-up and watching herself transform. Not into something better, just something different. She liked brushing her hair and choosing a stylish outfit.

Her parents used to tease her about it, always asking who she was doing it for, but she learnt to tune them out over time. She wasn't doing it for anyone but herself. If they couldn't understand that, it wasn't her fault. So what if she liked feeling good? There were bigger crimes a person could commit.

Since Henry's birth, that whole routine- hair, make-up, outfit- had gone down the drain. There were some days where she was lucky if she changed out of her pajamas and into sweatpants. She didn't mind, because she loved Henry with all her heart, and she had always wanted to be a mother, but she missed it. Perhaps it was a silly thing to miss, but she still missed it.

Will was doing just as much as she was- he was a half-decent father after all- but there never seemed to be enough time for either of them to do anything more than splash their face with some water. Obviously, neither of them would trade it for the world, but even Will was starting to miss being able to shower for more than nine minutes and forty five seconds.

Obviously, neither of them were able to stay at home forever. Not if they were going to buy the house they had fallen in love with. So Will went back to work as soon as his combined paternity and annual leave finished, which left JJ alone for eight hours. She missed him, but it was okay. As soon as he got through the door, he was showering her with affection, taking Henry from her arms, and sending her to get rest.

JJ went back to work a few months later, very grateful that everyone had been accommodating. Jordan had done her best, but the BAU wasn't for her, and that was okay. JJ was glad to hear that all miscommunication had been cleared up, and that everyone had gotten on in the end, because she wasn't sure she'd ever forget the time Aaron had phoned her at three in the morning because he'd messed up.

(He hadn't, not to the degree he was convinced he had, but it was not a fun night.)

For the most part, her return to work was rather smooth. And then suddenly, everything went downhill.

Will and Henry both got sick at the same time. She, somehow, avoided this, and after triple-checking her temperature, and asking Will a ridiculous number of times whether or not he was going to be okay, she went to work.

Her clothes did not coordinate, her face was devoid of all make-up, and her hair was thrown in a bun to try and make it less obvious that it hadn't been brushed, but it was fine. The BAU were (supposedly) grounded after doing successive cases. Again.

"Morning blondie- what happened? Are Henry and Will okay?" Derek asked, concerned as soon as she walked towards them.

JJ blinked the sleep from her eyes. "They've both gotten sick. But I'm okay. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"Well if you start to feel unwell at any time, just tell me. I'll drive you home," he says.

She manages to smile. "Thanks Der."

Morgan simply shrugs. "Least I can do."

Before she can offer to do something in return, Hotch exits his office. "Strauss is coming by later today with the Director. They're doing an inspection. So Emily, please, do not take my phone and start reading my texts from Nate again."

Emily smirks. "Are they more inappropriate than last time?"

Hotch glares daggers. JJ tries to stifle her laughter, but completely fails.

"Wait. Do I have to be here?" She asks, suddenly aware of how unprofessional she looks.

Hotch turns to her. "Oh JJ. A moment in my office please?"

She swallows, but nods and follows him. He holds the door open for her, then locks it behind him. She's not uncomfortable, just confused. She only grows more confused when he closes the blinds, sticking his tongue out at Emily like a child.

"Hotch, what are you doing?"

He pulls the chair he keeps in front of his desk to the centre of his room. "Sit."

She does. "Hotch."

"After Jack was born, we got sick at the same time. Haley had to go in because there were some very important meetings. She looked exactly the same as you do now. Which means Henry and Will must be ill, and you must be exhausted."

There's no point in denying it. "Yeah I guess. But I'm not ill! I can do my job."

Hotch smiles, and pulls a brush out of his desk drawer. It's the exact same one that she uses. "I know you can. I just want to help you feel a little bit more like yourself. That's all."

"Oh."

She expects him to pass the brush to her. He doesn't. He stands behind her, and takes her hair out of the bun she had hastily thrown it in. And then he parts her hair into three sections, moving two over her shoulder, and gently brushing through the third.

"This is very nice," she whispers.

"Feel free to fall asleep," he says.

She laughs, but eventually her exhaustion catches up to her and her eyes flutter close.

When she wakes up, a blanket has been draped over her body, and Hotch is behind his desk, doing paperwork. The blinds are still closed, and he's working using the lamp only.

"Shitting- why didn't you wake me up?" She exclaims.

"Because you looked so peaceful. And you deserved some consistent sleep."

"But what about the observation?"

"Hasn't happened yet. And if they have a problem with me taking care of my agents, then that's on them. JJ, it's completely fine. If I needed something urgently, I would have either asked someone else or woken you up."

She knows he's telling the truth. "Okay. Thank you. I know you don't like brushing your hair."

If he's surprised by her knowledge, he doesn't show it. "I don't, but other people, it's nice. Soothing."

JJ smiles, then runs her hand through it. Her fingers don't catch a single knot. "I do feel more like myself. So really, genuinely, thank you. It means a lot to me."

"It's not a big deal, but you're welcome. If I could help with the make-up and clothes, I would, but I don't know anything about either of them, clearly, so…" he trails off, and she can't help but grin.

"You've done more than enough. Could you do one more thing? If it's not too much?"

"JJ, of course. What?"

"Would you plait it for me? It'll be easier to do my work, and then when I get home, it'll be easier to deal with two sick people. Or maybe it's a psychological thing. I don't know. My mom always plaits her hair when someone is sick, and I like feeling close to her in that way."

"Of course I can. Tell me if it looks terrible?"

She nods, knowing it won't.

Aaron splits her hair into three sections again, running his hands through each. "Your hair is so soft!"

"It's the shampoo and conditioner I use," she says, not sure how to handle his softness.

"Of course it is. It always is," he responds, and she knows he's thinking of something else, but she isn't going to push. Not now, when he's doing her hair so nicely.

"All done," he says, moving her plait over her shoulder.

"Thanks Aaron. It looks perfect."

He grins, and she knows she's going to cherish this moment forever. She cherishes it even more when she gets home, and a sick Will can't stop complimenting how pretty she looks.

(She gets sick as soon as he recovers, and Aaron comes over with soup, plaits her hair again, and when she gets better, he sends her and Will to a cute restaurant whilst he babysits Henry because they deserve a night together. She plaits her hair for that as well.)

[trvelyans-archive]

my baby’s sweet as can be

a comm for the lovely @montliyets of her adorable detective miss honey hudson and one stunning felix hauville trying to make pancakes !!! these two are so cute and sweet so i hope you enjoy <3 <3 <3 

-

“So, are you a vampire now, too?”

Honey stops scrolling through her phone to glance over at Felix with an amused smile. “No,” she says before good-naturedly rolling her eyes and returning to her search for the right playlist, “I just found this recipe online when you were in the bathroom and I thought it looked cool.”

Felix doesn’t say anything – he just stares at her with round amber eyes until she turns to look at him again, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“What?” she asks.

“Well – what is it?” he prompts. “You can’t just say that and not tell me about the recipe!”

That wasn’t actually why he was staring at her – it was because a bunch of hairs came loose from her bun and were hanging in little blonde curls at the nape of her neck that he couldn’t help but stare at and want to push back up into her bun – but it’s a good enough excuse. He hopes it is, anyway.

She giggles, grabbing her phone and presenting it to him – on the screen is a plate of fluffy pancakes topped high with whipped cream and strawberries. It looks good – it even looks good to him, which is saying something, considering vampires rarely ever enjoy food. It also looks incredibly complicated, though, and Honey hasn’t slept a wink tonight – Felix would know, because they’d been watching musicals on the couch until now and the clock on the oven reads 2:06 am. Way past her bedtime, especially if she has work in the morning.

He can hear Adam’s scolding in his head, but if she doesn’t want to sleep, who is Felix to stop her? Especially because he needs at least ten more minutes of staring to commit all her curls to memory… and then another ten minutes so he can work up the courage to ask her if he can tug on one of them to see how springy it is.

Besides, he likes spending time with Honey. She’s just so sweet.

“Should I make some to bring Tina for breakfast?” Honey asks, taking the phone from Felix when he hands it back to her. “Yeah, okay, I’ll do it. I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish so many myself, anyway.”

“Wish I could eat some,” Felix says, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout as he hops up onto the counter.

Honey returns his pout as she opens the fridge door. “I know,” she says sympathetically, glancing down at her phone before looking up at him. “But – maybe you can try these? The ingredients are pretty, y’know, normal – they might not be too bad!”

“What are some of them?” Felix asks. He’s managed to stomach the odd potato chip or sugary cereal in his day (though usually only because Mason dares him, considering - as much as he enjoys the first bite - he doesn’t always enjoy every bite after that).

“Milk, eggs, butter… oh, what?”

Felix leans over, trying to read her screen. “What?”

“These use mayo,” she says. “Hm. Okay, well, maybe you won’t like them!”

“That’s okay!” he says brightly. “I might try one anyway… With the right motivation.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her, but she already turned to the fridge and started looking for ingredients. Damn. He’ll have to try that again later.

After she collects everything and places it all onto her counter, including a bottle of vanilla that Felix spent five minutes helping search through her cupboards for until she revealed it was actually hidden behind a couple of plants, he settles back in beside her and watches her pour everything into a medium-sized mixing bowl with mushrooms painted on the sides and starts mixing it together, only occasionally flinging batter over the side of the bowl onto her counter. She bites her bottom lip as she focuses, swaying back and forth to the music playing from her phone, and he forces himself to look away for a second before he gets stuck thinking about how cute she is (which happens more than he’d like to admit).

“So…” He leans back against the cupboards and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you come here often?”

He can picture it in his head – a sleepy Honey dragging herself out of her bed and into the kitchen to make a full Thanksgiving turkey or something at four in the morning. (He’s seen her half-asleep some nights when she sleeps at the Warehouse. It’s incredibly cute. She’s cute right now, too, but there’s something extra special about seeing her right out of sleep.)

She glances up at him and laughs. “Sometimes,” she says. “I mean, I try to get enough sleep before work, but – I get distracted, and if I get distracted, it’s hard to sleep.”

Felix understands that – he gets distracted easily, too, sometimes. Especially when he daydreams about beating Mason in a game of darts, because then it’s hard for him to do any of his Agency work when he knows that the dartboard in the games room is just down the hall at the Warehouse. “Distracted by fancy pancakes?”

“It’s not always food!” she protests. “One time I went to the convenience store with Tina at three in the morning because I thought there might be stuff I would need to do, like, embroidery there… surprisingly, there wasn’t any. And then I forgot by the end of work the next day, so… there went my dreams of embroidering a pillow.”

“I’m sure you’d be great at that,” Felix says.

Honey smiles. “Well, play your cards right and I might crappily embroider you a pillow for your next…” She trails off uncertainly. “Uh, I was gonna say birthday, but… do you have one?”

“I do!” Though he probably would’ve made one up even if he didn’t, because he doesn’t want to miss out on a gift from her, especially if she was planning on embroidering a cute little flower onto it. He doesn’t need to sleep that often, but he might end up doing it more just because he’d get to use the pillow she made him. “You don’t have to get me anything, though!”

“Of course I do, Felix.” She stops to dip her finger in the bowl, scooping some batter up on her finger and licking it off. “What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t get a birthday present for my cooking assistant?”

“Well, I don’t know how good of an assistant I’ll be, but I can try!” Felix says. On the rare occasion Nate is cooking, Felix lingers in the kitchen to watch (and almost always ends up getting swatted away when he tries to add more ingredients than necessary).

“Well, I don’t know how good of a chef I’ll be with this recipe, either, so…” She grins at him. “We’re in this together, I guess.”

Felix grins back at her. ‘Together’ makes his heart flutter. “Good.”

When the pancakes are finally finished at exactly 3 am (with Felix only trying to add honey to the batter once or four times throughout the course of cooking), she crams the pancakes that she set aside for Tina into a tiny container and stuffs them into her fridge before the two of them sit down at the dining table. “Alright,” she says, her cutlery clattering together as she picks them up in her hand and moves her plate onto her placemat with the other. “Moment of truth.”

The truth, from his end, is that the pancakes look good. While Felix is having trouble smelling anything but the mayonnaise which is super overpowering and – well, it doesn’t exactly make him think of nice, sweet pancakes, they still look good. They look like they belong in one of those food magazines he’s seen lying around Haley’s. He’s about to tell her that she should take a picture of them to send to Tina when she cuts a piece off and barely gives him enough time to start his drumroll before she sticks the forkful of food into her mouth.

Felix just sits there and watches her while she chews until she swallows the pancakes. There’s a long, thoughtful pause before she nods and her face breaks out into a bright, pleased smile, and she immediately picks her cutlery back up to slice off and scrape up another forkful of pancakes. “Good,” she says. “Yeah, they’re good.”

“Yes!” Felix claps. He wasn’t ready to see her disappointed if they weren’t good. “Good job!”

“My middle-of-the-night baking is almost never good,” she laughs, running a hand over her hair, “so I’m really glad that I didn’t embarrass myself.”

“Psh. Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

Honey fixes him with a disbelieving stare. “I once set off the fire alarms in the building trying to make soup,” she says. “Soup, Felix.”

“Well… that’s okay!” Felix smiles at her. “Besides… maybe this means that I should come over more often when you’re trying to cook. Maybe I’m your lucky charm!”

“You are,” Honey says, grinning when he wiggles his eyebrows at her. Nice. He knew that’d work. “Don’t tell Tina, of course, because she probably thinks that she’s my lucky charm. Do you want some pancakes, by the way?”

He’s tempted. Mostly because she’s looking at him so hopefully, but also because the slice she cut off looks super pretty and it would be hard for anyone to turn it down (except maybe Adam and Mason). Still, he can’t exactly get over the smell of mayonnaise…

And then he gets an idea.

“Hang on,” Felix said. “Hold that thought!”

He stands up and darts into the kitchen, then turns around to poke his head through the doorway and add, “But you can eat that slice, y’know, if you want!”

Her kitchen is a mess after all the baking – he doesn’t even know where she’s going to start in terms of cleaning off her counter – but he somehow manages to find what he was looking for within seconds. He holds it close to his chest as he heads back into the living room, sitting down in his seat a little closer to her than he was before and placing a small yellow bottle on the table in triumphantly.

“Honey,” she says, looking up at him. “You know syrup is basically the same thing, right? I mean... isn’t it?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Are you questioning your cooking assistant, Chef Hudson?”

She laughs, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair. “Not at all,” she says. “Be my guest! Just… don’t throw up on my table, okay? And if you do get sick, please don’t tell Adam it was because of me!”

Felix’s genuinely offended that she’d even have to say that – he’d blame himself a million times before he’d even think about blaming her – but now he’s too distracted by his mission to respond to it, grabbing her plate and pulling it towards himself until it’s sitting perfectly in the center of his own floral-printed placemat. He cuts off a slice of pancake and flips open the top of the honey bottle, pouring an amount of honey onto his fork that makes her gasp and cover her mouth, but he only looks up at her and winks as he grabs it and shoves the pancake into his mouth.

Yep, it tastes like mayonnaise and eggs just like he knew it would, but the honey is sweet.

(Felix already knew that, too.)

“Good?” she asks, placing her elbows on the table and leaning towards him expectantly.

“Good,” he replies, nodding. “If you ask me, you could quit your detective job and become a full-time pancake chef.”

Honey smiles. “Only if you’re my full-time cooking assistant.”

Felix reaches out and curls a strand of hair around his finger. “I’m fine with that… on one condition.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“We have to incorporate honey into every recipe,” he says. Before she can protest, he adds, “It’s the perfect business model!”

“Alright, alright, you have a point.” She glances at the plate of pancakes again, biting her lip. “Do you want another bite?”

He doesn’t – what he wants to do is lean closer and closer to her and see if she’ll let him kiss her. Or if she’ll kiss him first. Or if they’ll kiss each other at the exact same time like in the movies. He can tell that she wants another bite, though, and he’s nothing if not a gentleman, so he pulls his hand reluctantly away from her and pushes the plate towards her again.

Besides, if he doesn’t get to kiss her tonight, it’ll give him a good excuse to come over another time.

[thepixelmoon]

"Evie, is that coffee? Again?"

"Of course it is. What do you expect me to drink? Sparkling water?"

Meet Evie Langford, my N-mancer from TWC. She decided to become a police officer so that she'd have an opportunity to put her scientific skills to use, and has since developed quite an interest in caffeine.

She gives her all in every case, no matter how small it may be. She is disciplined and hardworking, can't stand idleness, and is most likely to be found either in the lab or at Haley's bakery, surrounded by books, notepads and empty coffee mugs.

Whenever she's with Nate, though, the world seems to slow down. It stops being frantic and chaotic until it's just the two of them. Evie is incredibly grateful to have found the missing half she didn't even know she needed. 🤎

[sharisquatch]

Unicorns

Don’t let the title fool you, this is nothing but pain. In other news, I am still emotionally compromised by M’s route in the book 3 demo.

 Mason/Female detective

Words: 893

Rating: Teen

“Kat,” Nate’s deep voice, soft and full of concern, stopped me before I could leave the kitchen. I turned slowly to face him. He sat at the big table, still where I had left him, frowning slightly at me. “What’s wrong? You seem-” he paused for a moment, searching for the right word “-tense. On edge.” 

My shoulders slumped slightly, trust Nate to pick up on something like that, and I shrugged, trying to play my discomfort off as nothing. 

Nate stood, unfolding from the chair to tower over me. I didn’t think he meant to, but at almost an entire foot taller than me, it was hard to avoid. The crease between his brows deepened as he looked down at me.

“If this is about the bounty or the trappers,” He shook his head, “you know we’re doing everything to keep you safe. We won’t let them get you.”

“Because that worked so well with Murphy,” I muttered to the floor, then winced, regretting the words as soon as I said them. A glance up at Nate showed me his jaw tighten slightly. “Nate,” I reached out to lay a hand on his arm, “Nate, I’m sorry. I know you are.”

He moved away from me, back to his chair, shaking his head. “We are better prepared this time,” he said, voice so full of confidence I almost believed him.

I raised a brow at him, then shrugged, “That’s not it anyway.” Sighing, I passed a hand over my face. I didn’t really want to talk about this, but he’d most likely hear about it anyway. Better to get it out right now instead of letting it fester.

Bracing my hands on the sturdy back of one of the kitchen chairs, I stared at a knot in the table. “It’s nothing really,” I lied, “I just heartily embarrassed myself.” I traced the wood grain around the knot with my eyes. “In front of a bunch of people.” I found another knot to look at, keeping my gaze firmly away from the kindly, if penetrating, look in Nate’s eyes. “With Mason. At Haley’s.” 

There was a moment of silence from him, then a quiet, “Ah.” 

Ah, indeed.

I pushed on. “I shouldn’t have taken him in there with me, or at least I shouldn’t have stayed there to eat. I’m sure it was awful for him.” 

For a second, I wavered, unsure how much to tell him. A quick glance toward Nate showed me a thoughtful expression and finger tapping along the table edge. Gritting my teeth, I pressed on, “I probably shouldn’t have kissed him over breakfast either.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nate’s finger hesitate for a moment, then continue its thoughtful pattern, “No, probably not-”

“I also shouldn’t have fled the scene quite so dramatically,” I interrupted. 

The room grew very quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the slight creak of wood as I tightened my grip on the chair. 

Finally, Nate spoke, “what did he say?” 

His voice was so gentle, so caring. It struck me right to the core.

I felt the prick of tears sting my eyes and had to swallow down the lump in my throat before I could continue. Shrugging, I whispered, “It’s Mason. What do you think.” My chest squeezed, aching. I was going to cave in on myself. Bowing my head over my white knuckled hands, I shook it slightly, “He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know.” 

How could one heart break into so many pieces and still function? How could I still stand here, even while I shattered into a million tiny shards?

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look up at Nate. There was none of the pity I expected to find, only a gentle understanding in his kind brown eyes. 

I shook my head again. At him, at myself. “I should have remembered-” I faltered “-He’s always been perfectly clear-” I had to stop again. 

“About what?”

I gave Nate a scornful look, a sudden wave of anger overwhelming the despair, “That he doesn’t give a shit about me. Other than to get into my pants, of course.” 

I straightened, angry, and done with the conversation. My fingers ached when I finally managed to let go of the chair. It was almost a surprise that I hadn’t left indents where I had been gripping. 

When I risked another look at Nate, he frowned slightly, something infinitesimally sad about his expression. “You know that’s not true.” 

I scoffed, “Sure, I’ll believe that when Felix finally finds those unicorns.” Some of my anger bled away, leaving me to slump again, “It doesn’t matter anyway. He was pretty clear about it.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, clenching my fists till my nails dug into my palms. “I got ahead of myself, let myself hope-” I shook my head. “I won’t forget again.”

“Kat,” there was that concern again. I shook my head at him, turning to leave.

“I’ll be ok, Nate, I-” I hesitated in the doorway, “Thank you for listening.”

His, “of course,” followed me out of the room. 

I was so focused on getting away from Nate and his quiet understanding that I didn’t notice the dark form in the shadows, didn’t see the aborted movent reaching for me.

[snesdudes]

FIST FIGHTING WITH FIRE

chapter III

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Alice Santos)

Warnings: Book 3 demo SPOILERS!!! Cursing, some angst, mentions of sex, a guy being a creep™, I guess. Sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: A week after that scene on Haley’s Bakery, Mason deals with the aftermath of his words... Or has he been dealing with it since the very moment he said them?

Read on ao3

chapter I ⭐ chapter II ⭐ chapter IV ⭐ chapter V

                                         ☾  一一一一一一一一一   ☽ 

Outside the bar

"Can we just… not do this?" Alice spoke into the phone, her free hand running through her red hair and messing the waves she had carefully done that evening. A sigh from the other end of the line indicated her mother's reluctance to let it go.

"You seemed to be perfectly integrated with the Unit some days ago, and this week you made up a meeting with the Captain just to avoid coming to the warehouse."

Alice cringed, not her finest moment. "Look, I'm with them now, having a drink together. We're fine. Everything's fine."

"Does this have anything to do with what's been going on with Mason?"

Hearing his name made the detective snap. "Wait, is this you being a mother or being a boss?" She spat, venom on her every word. "Because you've barely gained the right to meddle in my life as either of those things."

The silence was deafening, and Alice's heartbeat kept getting faster and faster. "You weren't there when Bobby broke my heart, you don't have to be here now." Her voice cracked as she finished the sentence and she had to clear her throat.

"Is that what happened? Mason broke your heart?" Tears threatened to spill out of her green eyes at the genuine concern on Rebecca's voice.

"No, he didn't." She answered with a whisper, rebuilding her carefully placed walls.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. I have to go, they are waiting for me."

"Alice, wait, tell me -"

She finished the call and stared at the phone's screen for a few seconds, taking calming breaths and trying to swallow the tears. The Unit would pick up on any change in her mood so she better calm down fast.

"Detective Santos. That looked intense."

She turned around quickly, finding the bearded man they were discussing inside before her mother called. Alice cleared her throat and offered a wobbling smile. "Kinda. Mr Rogers, wasn't it?"

"Please, call me Owen." He said, a wolfish smile on his lips as he offered his hand to her. Alice couldn't help but think of all the times the smirks Mason threw her way had seemed wolfish to her, and how different the chill she felt going down her spine was to the one she was feeling now.

Still, she was the detective of this town, so she shook his hand as professionally as she could. He took advantage of the situation to pull her slightly towards him, making her stumble on her heels and gaining a frown from her.

"I couldn't exactly walk up to you inside, surrounded by those guys. Popular, aren't you?"

Alice pulled her hand away and took a step backwards, creating some distance. "Those are my friends. And I would carefully think about what you say next if I were you, because so far you're doing a terrible job at flirting with me."

Owen blinked, slightly taken aback by her brashness, but recovering quickly and assuming she was challenging him. He didn't know he had picked the worst moment to annoy the detective, who usually was rather friendly and generous with her smiles. But the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and she was feeling irritated, miserable and ready to either go home and curl into the bed or get back inside and get shit faced drunk. Definitely not in the mood to deal with this man.

"I'm just saying you've probably let some of them get a taste." His grin widened, eyes travelling down her body. "Thought maybe I could be next. I'm sure I could teach you a couple of things… or maybe you could show me what you can do."

She opened her mouth to reply when a low growl interrupted her, making Owen turn around and allowing Alice to see Mason standing there, fists clenched and eyes narrowed, lips curled in a snarl. He looked dangerous, even more so than he usually did, and Alice tried to look at him from a stranger's eyes. Everything in his body and expression was screaming 'predator'. It would be the kind of situation where your body asks you to run even if you aren't sure about why you should be running. You just know you should. But she didn't feel fear, his anger was not directed towards her. She felt a thrill going through her body at his presence, forgetting her bruised heart for a moment.

"What the fuck did you just say to her?" The words were still growled as he stepped forward, and Owen took a step backwards, nearly colliding with the detective, who moved aside and around him. Mason reached out a hand to her, not moving his stormy gaze from the bearded man. Not even thinking, she slipped her hand into his and he gently moved her closer until she was tucked against his side. The detective had expected Mason to push her behind him, not keeping her by his side. She felt both of their bodies relaxing slightly at the touch, as if being close to each other was the only thing they needed in the world.

Owen looked at them with slight fear in his eyes. He could swear he had seen a glimpse of inhumanly big fangs when the long-haired man snarled. Mason's hand rested on her waist and her manicured one grabbed his shirt, his dark hair falling down his face and getting mixed with her red locks, tickling her cheek. He looked at him as if he was about to rip him apart, and the look on the detective's face let him know she would very much allow it… maybe even help him.

"Look," he croaked, "I didn't know she was with you. No harm done, okay?"

But his words didn't have the desired reaction. Another growl, and his snarl widened. It was taking all his self control not to pounce on this guy, but he knew he shouldn't. "So it was okay to be a creep to her when you didn't know? But suddenly a bad idea now you know she's my girl?"

Mason didn't miss the way her heart leaped inside her chest at his words and a pang of satisfaction almost made him shudder. If he hadn't been so fucking angry at the man standing before them he would have probably gotten goosebumps at the way she subtly pressed herself closer before speaking.

"You gotta learn how to treat women like human beings, you fucking dirtbag. If I see you creeping on anyone of this town I'll have you arrested for harassment."

The man nodded enthusiastically as he took another step backwards. Mason rolled his eyes with a huff.

"One of us is gonna kick your ass if you don't get lost. Now."

That was enough, and in a few seconds they were left alone in the street. Mason relished on her closeness, the scent of her honey scented shampoo tickling his nose, the warmth of her body expanding through their clothes and seeming to reach inside him. But she cleared her throat and he lost it all. She took a step away from him and the hand that had been resting on her waist fell limp to his side.

"Thank you. It would have been awkward if the detective of the town punched a newcomer in the dick." She chuckled awkwardly. "So, you know, thank you."

"You already said that."

She met his eyes and his forced grin let her know he was trying to mess with her to lighten the mood.

"Right. We should, uh, go back." She moved to walk past him, but his long fingers curled around her forearm and she spinned around to meet his face, now suddenly serious. He opened his mouth and closed it, his brow furrowed as if what he was about to say was too difficult to say it out loud. His fingers loosened their grip and Alice thought he was going to let her go. Of course he was going to let her go. He wouldn't face the way he hurt her because that would mean he accepted they had something worth saving. Her eyes dropped to his grip, wanting to watch, forcing to accept, he was never going to make her stay.

But his fingers tightened with new force, and her gaze snapped back to his face.

Grey eyes, tempestuous with emotion, stared at her, moving wildly through her features before he finally found the words.

"Don't go."

Her breath caught on her throat at the thought that he wasn't just talking about going inside.

He feels those things, alright. You gotta be patient while he figures them out.

Felix's words echoed inside her mind. The seconds that went by seemed to last an eternity, before she nodded slowly. Mason's shoulders dropped as he exhaled, as if a great weight had been lifted off them.

"Okay, Mason."

Meanwhile, inside the bar

"Maybe one of us should have gone outside to mediate." Nate sighed, staring inside his glass of scotch. "Those two aren't exactly good at sharing how they feel."

"Who knows." Felix shrugged, a grin widening in his face. "Maybe they're already back at Allie's apartment."

"Why would they…? Oh." Nate realised, eyes widening.

"They say the bigger the fight, the best the make up sex gets." Felix wiggled his eyebrows. "If that's true, they're in for a hell of a night."

Nate cringed, very much wishing Felix hadn't put that image of his friends inside his brain. "Ugh. I just hope Mason finds a way to fix whatever he's done without hurting her anymore."

"She knew what she was getting into by getting involved with someone like Mason." Adam said matter of factly. "He doesn't really try to hide his brashness."

Nate nodded, Mason was all sharp edges and bluntness, while the detective was much softer, gentle. It was easy for someone like her to get cut while trying to hold on to someone like him. Maybe it was a matter of how many cuts and wounds she could resist before letting go. But he liked to believe that wouldn't happen - instead, her softness would envelope his sharpness, showing him a side of himself he didn't even know it existed. A small smile bloomed on Nate's face as the thought.

"I think they both have to learn how to be around each other now that their relationship is changing."

Adam shrugged, but Felix let out a dreamy sigh. "You're such a romantic, Natey. Mason would learn so much from you if he didn't get nauseous every time he thinks about love."

Nate chuckled. "You know, maybe that's about to change."

                                     ☾  一一一一一一一一一   ☽ 

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future! Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated 😍

TAGLIST: @agentnatesewell @gloynporslen @sunchipz @agentmasonjars @msjpuddleduck @utterlyinevitable @kat-tia801 @oxjenayxo

[lykegenia]

Like Glitter And Gold Ch.8

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Characters/Relationships: Nate Sewell x F!Detective Rating: T

Read on AO3

--

The rest of Unit Bravo have already arrived at the station by the time Leah pulls into the parking bay with Nate. Having waited for an Agency team to arrive to secure the boat and box up Russell’s stash of artefacts for cataloguing, a good chunk of the afternoon is now gone, the blustery sunshine of earlier in the day clouded over and spotting with rain as they bundle through the main doors.

“Detective,” Adam greets without preamble. “Did you have a successful morning?”

She shoots him a wry smile. “You could say that. Some answers, and a whole load of new questions.”

“We can start with the answers,” he says, but Nate interrupts.

“Where’s Mason?”

“He said he had a report to write,” Felix says from the borrowed chair he’s pulled up by Tina’s desk. “But we all know he’s using the excuse to spend time with the kittens where we can’t see him.”

“Who wouldn’t want to spend time with them?” Tina cries. “They’re so cute! Leah, have you seen these?”

“They have names now!” Felix adds helpfully.

Without waiting for a response, he jumps out of his seat and bounds across the room to hold up his phone. A muscle ticks in Adam’s jaw, disapproving of more than just the younger agent’s burst of preternatural speed, but does nothing to actively discourage the behaviour.

“We called the black and white one Lucky,” Felix informs them, swiping to a photo of the little runt asleep on his back with his front paws tucked up to his chin.

Beside Leah, Nate chuckles at the image, the sound a low rumble in her ear as he uses the excuse to lean close. She can feel his body light and electric against her back, one hand resting on the curve above her waist, and even if there’s no intent to the gesture she’s sure he can feel the way her heartbeat spikes. Luckily, Felix seems too absorbed in swiping through the dozens of photos crowding his phone to notice her distraction. After Lucky sleeping, sitting, loafing, and sleeping again, he swipes to a photo of the two splashed tabbies, their baby blue eyes wide with curiosity as they huddle together in a mess of blankets.

“These two are Strawberry and Shortcake,” he says, flicking through more pictures. “You can tell them apart because Strawberry has the patch above her eye. And then this is Van Helsing.”

Nate coughs. “Van Helsing?”

The little orange ringleader stares up from the phone screen, velvet paws planted on the carpet, intent on the end of string that dangles just out of shot.

“That’s an… interesting choice,” Leah says. Her gaze flashes to Tina, who holds her palms up in surrender and mouths it wasn’t me! before going back to her screen.

“My Insta followers thought of it,” Felix explains. “I asked them to come up with something vampire related – you know, for reasons. Adam doesn’t like it, obviously.”

“No, I do not,” the team leader agrees, and jerks his head towards Leah’s office. “If we could return to the case?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Felix slips his phone into a pocket and obeys the directive, mollified only by the commiserating look Tina throws his way. Leah is about to follow when the far door squeaks open and Verda appears clutching a manilla folder to his chest. He looks like he hasn’t slept. His clothes areas put-together as ever, but the heavy bags beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders are easy enough for anyone to read.

“I thought I heard you back,” he says. “I have some new evidence for you, and the lab called back with a print match on the sports bag. They must be having a slow day.” His eyes dart to Nate, then to the silhouettes blocked against the interior windows of her office.

“Thanks, I’ll check it out.” She tilts her head. “You alright?”

He blinks. “Nothing to worry about. Do either of you want anything from Haley’s while I’m there?”

With a quick shake of her head, and an instruction to Tina to run a background check on both Harrises, Leah completes the party in her office and closes the door behind her. Nate is already making himself useful attaching printouts of the GPS history of Russell’s boat to the board, but he catches her gaze as she steps up beside him, passes her a smile she can’t help but return.

“You two are adorable,” Felix interrupts, holding his chin in his hands.

Her face heats. “Did you guys find anything on patrol?”

“No sign of Trappers, or rogues,” Adam says. “So far. It would be unwise to rule them out completely.”

“That’s fair, but it’s still a dead end for now.” She crosses to the desk and slaps Verda’s folder down over the keyboard. “We, on the other hand, have had more success. It looks likely that Walter Greene’s money was being used to fund a salvage operation for sunken treasure.”

“Really?” Felix asks. “Cool.”

“He would have done well to tell you that when you visited him yesterday,” Adam notes with a scowl.

She shrugs. “I’m not surprised he didn’t. Not sharing what he’s up to also means he doesn’t have to share any profits.”

“Maritime salvage law can have – ah – muddied waters, let’s say,” Nate adds. “The ownership of the cargo could be too easily disputed if people knew it was there.”

“I can’t believe you just made a pun!” Felix cries. “Do we know what the treasure is? Is it gold?”

“The equipment on Russell’s boat did look pretty heavy duty.”

Adam huffs. “This is all irrelevant unless it can be tied to a motive for murder.”

He’s right, though so far the sunken treasure is squatting in the middle of the case like a toad in a fairy tale, defying all attempts to get past it. As she gazes at the murder board, the possibilities nag at her, twisting this way and that to fit into the facts they have so far. Maybe Russell found what he was looking for, and Walter didn’t want to share his profits – or Russell didn’t find anything and didn’t want to pay back the loan – or did find something and decided he wanted a bigger cut. The problem with all of these ideas is squaring away the fact that the treasure is still missing, if it exists at all, and without it there’s no profit in Russell’s death. And then there’s the way the body was found, still with the murder weapon in place, out in the open where it was guaranteed to get the attention of the police. Walter Greene and his lackeys would never be so sloppy.

“We’ll table it,” she says. “Unless…”

Adam lifts an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Verda never fails to disappoint. The first thing to meet Leah’s gaze as she flips open the folder is a close-up photo of an uneven bruise on Russell’s torso. Next to it, a note in the examiner’s neat handwriting indicates that it was taken using a filter to enhance the details. Impression of a ring found on several contusions across subject’s body, concentrated around the midsection and one along the jaw. Minimal defensive wounds. Normal human rate of healing suggests injuries are at least two weeks old.

“How fast do selkies heal?” she asks.

“Faster than humans,” Nate supplies. “Not as fast as vampires.”

“They’re more resilient than humans too. It takes more to hurt them.”

Felix is the one who asks her why.

“Someone gave our victim a going over in the very recent past. Someone with a ring.” She holds the photo out to show them. “One of Walter Greene’s henchmen was wearing a ring yesterday.”

Nate moves closer, a frown knotted between his brows. “If you’re going to go back there, Leah, you should take one of us with you.”

“I’ll go,” Adam decides. “You need to help catalogue all those artefacts the Detective found, to see if they have any relevance.”

For a moment, it looks like there’ll be an argument, but with one last worried glance, Nate swallows back his reply and nods.

“You can’t keep our Detective to yourself all day, Natey,” Felix teases.

“I wasn’t trying to!”

Leah, still looking at the folder, ignores the banter as best she can. “We also have a name and address for the person who dumped the kittens. They’re still potentially our best witness.”

“Then that will be our first destination.” Adam is already moving. “You two should return to the warehouse.”

“Are you sure –”

“But I wanted to –”

“There will be no debate,” Adam snaps. “Detective, shall we?”

She’s glad she didn’t take her coat off. With an apologetic look back at the other two, she follows the commanding agent to the front of the building, already fishing in her pocket for Nessie’s keys.

He gives her a stern look. “I will drive.”

“You have something against my car?” she asks sweetly.

“It’s a death trap, and it’s tiny,” he retorts. “And it doesn’t have air conditioning.”

“Can I choose the music, at least?”

“Detective, please.”

With a loud and very obvious click of her tongue, she follows him out. “Worth a shot.”

--

After relaying the address for Adam to punch into the sat nav, the rest of the journey passes in silence, though that hardly counts as a bad thing. It’s refreshing not being expected to make conversation. When they finally pull up in front of a bland semi-detached house in what passes for Wayhaven’s suburbs a few miles from the old wharf, they share a look that says he’s as unimpressed with their environs as she is. A line of leggy, parched shrubs overgrown with grass line the wall beneath the front window, the PVC window frames in good enough repair but grimy with dirt.

Leah leads the way up the garden path, alert for any movement inside that might suggest an attempted escape.

“Bloody hell,” she complains as she knocks on the door, “could you try to look less like a government agent?”

“I’m not an agent for the government,” Adam replies, sullen, his folded arms bulging the fabric of his t-shirt.

“It’s not a distinction most people –”

“Hello?”

She turns a friendly smile on the man clutching the edge of the door. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, rather scrawny, a balding IT type with a trimmed brown beard and wire glasses that frame dark brown eyes.

“Martin Johnston?” she checks, and holds up her badge. “I’m Detective Kingston, this is Adam du Mortain.”

The man has already flinched away as if to shut the door, but she stamps her foot down across the threshold before he can follow through.

“We were hoping for a few minutes of your time?”

“Are you from the government?” he asks.

“No,” Adam answers with a pointed glance sideways. “We are not.”

Leah tilts a polite smile at him. “Why would you ask that?”

“No reason.”

“May we come in?” she asks, with yet another smile. “You’re not paying to heat the street, after all.”

Martin glances over his shoulder. “No, I’m… No.” He swallows. “I’m – I’m very busy – with work – I don’t have time to –”

With a chirp, a tabby-and-white cat dashes out from between his legs and runs straight to Adam, then halts and sniffs the air with a plaintive meow, tail lashing. He frowns as he crouches down to offer his hand in greeting, and when the creature butts its head against his knuckles, purring like an engine, he lets out a hum that positively radiates displeasure.

“This cat recently given birth,” he says as he picks her up.

Their witness flinches again. “It’s not my cat.”

“But she ran out of your house,” Adam points out. Somehow, having his arms full of a madly purring cat that’s enjoying a scratch on the chin only makes him more intimidating.

“Uh… A friend of mine left her here while she’s away.”

“Well, I’m sure that friend wouldn’t want her getting run over,” Leah says. “We can bring her back into the house for you.”

“No!” Martin yelps. “You can’t come in!”

He tries to shut the door again but Leah is quicker and jams her foot properly in the doorway, glad of the heavy-soled boots he wears for work.

“I don’t like being heavy-handed, Mr Johnston,” she warns, leaning closer, “but I have a sports bag of abandoned kittens with rocks in the bottom and your name and fingerprints all over it, and now a nursing cat associated with your property, all within spitting distance of a murder scene.” She looms in, lowers her voice to a pitch little more than a growl. “You saw something the night you went to drown them, and I want to know what it is, otherwise I will make sure you’re brought up on animal cruelty charges, obstructing an investigation, and anything else I can make stick. Do you understand?”

Martin’s gaze flickers between Leah and the burly, glaring figure at her back, the fear in his eyes a palpable thing. And then, at long last, his shoulders slump. “You won’t believe me.”

“What did you see?” she presses.

He breaks. He reels back, running one hand through his thinning hair as he holds open the door and leads them into the living room. Adam still has hold of the cat, who seems to find the curl of his massive arms a suitable cushion, and he takes a perch on the edge of the worn sofa as their witness flops into the mismatched armchair opposite.

“It was dark.” He falters. “I…”

“Tell us from the beginning,” Adam instructs.

There’s a momentary struggle, and a fearful glance at the cat. “I… like to go for walks at night, to clear my head, you know?” It’s an obvious, inelegant lie, but she lets it go. “Sometimes I go to the docks.”

“And two nights ago?” Adam prompts. “What time were you there?”

Martin shrugs. “About midnight, or slightly later maybe? I wasn’t thinking about checking my phone. I heard a door open, then someone spoke, and then… it sounded like a struggle, something got kicked over, and there was a – almost a scream, but gasping, you know?”

“The voice you heard,” Leah asks, “what did it sound like?”

“It was a man, or at least, I thought it was. God.” Here he stops, drags a hand down in his face. “When I got closer to see what was going on, the light from the door –” His eyes narrow. “You are from the government, aren’t you? You’re here as a cover up, to silence me!”

Before he can do more than stagger upright, Adam is across the room, laying a hand on his arm. “Please calm down, Mr Johnston,” he says, in the same slow, deliberate voice he used on Garrett Hayes’ mother. “Tell us what you saw.”

Martin’s voice flattens, the inflection gone. “It was a monster, there was smoke coming off it, and it was struggling with someone behind it but it couldn’t turn around.”

“Can you describe the other person?” Leah asks, biting back disapproval at the use of pheromones.

“All I saw were these huge black eyes and bared teeth – grey skin.” He shakes his head. “I got out of there as fast as I could.”

Leah and Adam share a glance as Martin drops his head into his hands.

“That’s useful information,” she says, cold. “Now about that sports bag…”

“Wait, don’t I get some sort of deal, or something?” he wails. “You said I helped!”

“You were going to toss that bag off the end of the dock,” she snarls. “Those kittens were zipped up, trapped. They never stood a chance.”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” His eyes go wide, pleading. “I’m sorry. My useless ex didn’t tell me the cat was pregnant when she dumped her here. What was I supposed to do with kittens?”

“Most people don’t choose drowning them as a first option,” she snaps. “Stand up.”

Still under the influence of the pheromones, he complies, says nothing as she recites his rights and places the handcuffs around his wrists. When she walks him out to the SUV she gives him a brief warning look before depositing him on the back seat and stepping up beside Adam, who for the lack of anything more suitable has secured the cat in the equipment store in the boot.

“If you swing by the station and drop me off, I can get him processed while you take mama back to her babies,” she suggests, then spies his phone. “Who are you calling?”

“The Agency has a unit to take care of this,” he replies, features set.

“What do you mean, ‘take care’?”

“They will extract the memories of Russell Seakirk and erase them.” As if it’s obvious. As if it’s normal.

She folds her arms. “What if he’s needed to testify?”

“It is clear that whoever the murderer is, they are a supernatural or are aware that supernaturals exist.” He stares her down. “Ordinary measures will not work here, Detective. Will you still have enough evidence to press charges for the kittens?”

Trying to ignore the familiar feeling of having a case wrenched from her grasp, she turns and leans against the car. “I can ask the vet to do a DNA test to confirm the kittens belong to this cat, and if it comes back positive, combined with his prints on the bag and the fact that we found her in his house, it’s a solid case.”

“Good.” He nods, but his brow furrows as if he’s struggling with something. “I understand your hesitation in this, but this is the cost of keeping both supernaturals and humans safe.”

She scowls. “Let’s just get on with it. The sooner we drop him off, the sooner we can go piss off Walter Greene.”

--

Walter Greene is not in his office.

Expecting him to be there was probably a longshot, given that it’s past five and the Agency SUV is about as subtle as a brick through a window, but even though his secretary has clearly had practice dodging investigators for the big man, the combination of Leah’s badge and Adam’s sheer size flusters him enough to mention that his boss is out to dinner with the mayor. From there, it’s just a quick phone call to Douglas to find out his father’s schedule, and they’re off along the darkening country roads to the fancy golf club patronised by all the big city’s biggest fish.

By the time they get there night has truly fallen, though the spotlights beaming up beneath the immaculate topiary do their best to compensate. The whole place reeks of elitism – not the self-assured disdain of old money, but the neurotic overbearance of those fighting for a seat at the same table. From the purse in Adam’s lips, he doesn’t think much of the gilt wood panelling or the beige tartan carpet either, though the server at the front desk is polite enough and leads them through to the clubhouse’s dining room with little fuss.

Perhaps she just knows a losing battle when she sees one.

“Ah, Detective Kingston – and Commanding Agent du Mortain!” The mayor waves them over from the far corner, the broad, genuine smile on his aged face. “How wonderful to see you both – and how is your mother? I mean Agent Kingston, of course,” he adds, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I hope she’s aware of all the fine work you do for our town.”

“Work is why we’re here, I’m afraid,” Leah answers, declining the chair the server pulls out for her.

“Ah, the murder, no doubt.” The mayor eyes the manilla folder in her hands. “Dreadful business. Well, anything I can do to help, I’m at your disposal.”

“We’re grateful,” Adam bites out. “Agent Kingston appreciates the accommodations you have made for the Agency.”

The mayor’s smile falters at the brusque tone, but he recovers valiantly. “And I’m sure you know Walter Greene, one of our foremost backers for the new development on Briars Lane.”

“We were actually hoping to borrow Mr Greene for a moment or two,” Leah says.

The businessman narrows his gaze at her. “I’m not sure what use I could possibly be to you, Detective.”

“Walter, be reasonable,” the mayor scolds, like his business partner is a misbehaving toddler. “It’s not like our young detective is here to arrest you – is it?”

“Not at all,” she tells him, her smile forced.

“We have some follow up questions about the statement he gave us yesterday,” Adam supplies. The deflection comes with surprising ease, the formal language like a soundbite from some crime show.

She shakes the thought away. “It should only take a few moments.”

“Well, I see no reason not to cooperate,” the mayor decides. “It’s not like your crab salad will scuttle off your plate if you leave it unattended for a few minutes, eh?”

With a terse smile Walter Greene sets his napkin on the tablecloth and rises from his chair. He’s about two inches shorter than Adam, but stretches himself outwards like a bullfrog as he leads them to a quiet corner of the lobby.

“I see you brought a bodyguard this time, Detective,” he notes. “I do hope our last interview didn’t leave you too rattled?”

“Do you have a problem with my colleague?” she replies.

Said colleague is probably flexing his muscles behind her back, given the flicker in Walter’s regard.

He snorts, bull-like. “What is this about?”

“Your goons beat up Russell Seakirk shortly before his death, and I want to know why.”

“What fanciful –”

But she’s ready for him, slips one of Verda’s photos out of the folder and shoves it under his nose.

“Seakirk was a supernatural,” she bites out. “No ordinary human could have made these marks, especially not when the symbol in the middle of that bruise is so unusual.”

“Did he ask for more money?” Adam presses, when the only response is a clench of the jaw.

“Maybe he refused to share the findings of his little expeditions with you,” she suggests. “I know he was looking for something in the lake, and that he either found it or was very close.”

“And we also know that whoever killed him knew what he was.”

The last nudge from Adam does it. With a roll of his eyes, Walter steps closer so his voice won’t carry. “As I already informed Detective Kingston, I am a businessman. It does not do to destroy the things that make me money.” He swallows. “There were rumours that Seakirk had found… what he was looking for, and others that he was planning to abscond with it, without providing me with what was contracted. If – when my associates went to remind him of his obligations – he got aggressive, they were perfectly within their rights to defend themselves.”

“By beating him half to death?” Leah checks.

“My associates cannot help it if a selkie isn’t built to take the same hits as a minotaur,” he retorts.

She decides to change tack. “Did he ever show signs of reneging before this?”

“No,” comes the answer, as if it’s mildly interesting. “This was a recent change in attitude. I couldn’t say why. And if you want more proof that I am not the murderer you seek, you should know I had a meeting scheduled with him for the morning after he was killed – you can check with my secretary.”

“What was the meeting about?” Adam asks.

“The return on my investment.” He leans back, tugs on his suit jacket to straighten it. “You guessed correctly, Detective. He found what he was looking for. And now, I think you’ve trespassed on my patience long enough. If you have any more questions, you’ll have to ask my lawyer. Good evening.”

He pushes past them, though carefully enough to avoid making a scene, and as he rounds the corner back into the dining room Leah blows a breath through her cheeks and sinks against the wall. There’s a raised eyebrow from Adam. She wafts it away with the case folder and pushes herself back up, eager to get away from this stuffy place with its pretentious lack of taste.

“I guess that officially makes that a dead end,” she says when they finally step outside.

“It confirms that something changed just before Seakirk’s death,” he replies.

“True.” She shrugs her coat tighter to keep out the chill. “You’re getting better at this, you know. Investigating. It’s almost like you’re a different person to when we first met.”

“Your praise is touching.”

She answers the stubborn quirk of his mouth with a grin, but it falls quickly as her mind turns back to the case.

“What is it?” he asks.

“There’s something about this treasure that’s not adding up. There’s nothing except that journal to say there’s anything valuable down there.” She shrugs. “Maybe he found out it wasn’t real after all and tried to escape, or maybe he knew it already and this whole thing was a con from the start, and that’s what got him killed.”

“Perhaps,” Adam allows. “Perhaps the treasure means nothing to the case.”

They reach the SUV, parked just beyond the reach of the clubhouse lights.

“It means something,” she insists. “Too many things keep coming back to it.”

Or perhaps it’s just her. As she sinks into the passenger seat and clips the seatbelt into place, doubt winds in like ivy to smother the certainty of her assumptions. At the first mention of sunken treasure, she tried to ignore the spark of excitement that lit in the pit of her stomach, the hope that the case would turn out like one of the adventure stories she read as a kid, even though every part of it – the journal, the legend, the mob boss, fucking selkies – seemed too perfect to be real. The sceptical, calculating, adult part of her brain should be keeping a tighter grip on reality.

And yet, between moonlighting for a supernatural Agency and having weird, mutated blood that makes her extra delicious, any standard definition of reality is so far out of sight that a mysterious sunken treasure at the bottom of a perfectly ordinary lake seems the least outlandish feature of the last few days.

“Will you drop me off at the station?” she asks, to stop the chase of her thoughts. “My car’s still there and I have to write up the interviews from today while they’re still fresh.”

Adam doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Of course. Will you be coming to the warehouse when you’re done?”

“Mm – If I don’t finish too late.”

Really, there’s a headache starting behind her eyes, and it’s joining battle with the leaden, drowsy feeling that always steals across her when she’s in a car at night and someone else is driving. The steady pulse of the road markings as they’re eaten up by the windshield has a hypnotic effect, the drone of the tyres and the engine a low vibration beneath her skin. She shifts in the seat and blinks hard to banish the itch in her eyes, but it doesn’t get her far. The yawn still comes. It looks like dinner with Nate will have to be put off yet another night.

[othramblings]

Would have been great for someone else, literally anyone else, to comment that Nathan’s behavior with Nanny Carrie was wrong. James does such a good job of portraying Nathan as someone who really didn’t want to cheat and wants to be with his wife after the whole situation is out in the open. It’s part of why I still like the ship.

In therapy, Nathan said Haley doesn’t look at him the way she used to, but that’s not really true. As soon as Haley walks home and Nathan is at the dinner table with a shaved face in early season 5, Haley warms up to him. She is affectionate with him in other episodes as well and so what exactly is she not emoting to him for his comment to make sense?? Maybe NC does serve him a lot of compliments but seriously, that’s what he was missing? Haley has essentially been running their household and embarking on a new career on her own, while Nathan has been sulking at home. Haley told him that if he didn’t change he would lose her, but luckily he turned things around. But then he so easily slides into NC’s shenanigans. In a lot of scenes between Carrie and Nate, she says something suggestive, and he is left with a furrowed brow and a contemplative face. It doesn’t just happen once or twice either—he repeatedly is in situations like this with Carrie.

In episode 7 of season 5, the whole crew is at Tric, including Carrie. Haley kisses Nathan and apologizes for being busy. I think the overall narrative wants to imply that part of why Nathan let’s the NC stuff happen is because Haley is preoccupied but I reject that narrative and the One Tree Hill powers that be can suck it.

[magebastard]

(ok thank you so much @possumsunshine for making this big fat wayhaven detective questionnaire i had FUN doing it)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: lane m. wheatley

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: unit bravo all of them

Main skill: people

Secondary skill: science

Main personality trait: genuine

Secondary personality trait: easygoing

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: wants to protect people

Relationship with Rebecca: bad so bad laughably bad

Relationship with Bobby: ex

Verda or Tina?: verda

Murphy bite?: neck

Murphy’s fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: mason she panicked

GENERAL

Name: lane marshall wheatley

Nickname: detective (affectionate)

Birthday: december 8th

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Hair color: honey blonde

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5’1

Piercings: a few holes in her ears and her septum but she very rarely wears the septum ring

Tattoos: a rat on her left thigh, a stick and poke that says dunkin donuts on the inside of her left ankle

Clothing Style: smart. blazers and slacks. very shiny loafers. big bulky wristwatch. christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

Apartment Style: dark. but fully furnished by bulk trash day

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: people

Second Skill: science/technology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: wants to protect people

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: ok time to be A Bit Much™️ but she immediately identifies herself in mason. like felix and nate are open and kind which she tries to embody, and adam respects her so long as she does her job which she understands and appreciates. she doesn’t understand or relate to any of them in a romantic sense. with mason she sees that ‘oh, he likes to hook up and flirt. he’s kind of grumpy but that’s fine i also pretty much exclusively only hook up and flirt. so that could happen.’

Bold, shy, or mixed?: bold

What were their first impressions of each other?: for lane, mason immediately pissed her off. she was very stressed out by the case and rebecca’s sudden appearance and adam’s attitude, so her patience was so thin and she just didn’t care about much beyond solving the mystery of the murder. she thought he might have seen her in a weak spot and pointedly ribbed her because of it so she was like “i literally just need to learn to ignore this man.”

for mason, it was a weird mixed bag, because he could pick up on lane’s reluctance to work with a team—especially rebecca’s team. with that impression in mind, he sees her cast all of her personal feelings aside for the sake of solving the case and protecting the town, and he relates to that instinct. other than that, he was generally annoyed that they had to work with her

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: everything for sure but specifically their favorite features -

for lane: mason’s freckles and his long nose and hands. mentally, it’s his honesty and sense of humor

for mason: lane’s eyes, cheeks when she smiles, legs. mentally, it’s her open mindedness and protective nature

What do they do to spend time together?: they go on walks, lane tries to find mason’s favorite music, they watch movies, they go on long drives, they sit at the lighthouse, they watch sunsets together, they stare at the moon

What is their favorite memory together?: they make a lot! the first time they quietly sit together on the roof of the warehouse becomes especially important to them both over time

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time, lane is half in/half out on words of affirmation

How do they handle being apart from one another?: ok deep romance mason feels the brunt of hypersensitivity with also the ache of loss so he mostly sulks and sticks to his room. lane kind of walks around on autopilot. not really realizing it, but definitely experiencing heavy brain fog and going home and berating herself for being needy but also crying

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t really argue! mason doesn’t really think not to speak his mind and lane is very communicative and easygoing. they bicker when one of them ends up in avoidable danger, but it usually ends with a quiet “i need you to stay safe.” something w that sentiment

What does their future look like?: traveling and a lake house. staying with unit bravo through thick and thin. lane turns when she’s 29, and they stay in wayhaven until she turns about 45 and eyebrows start to raise.

Anything else you’d like to share: they do get married. it’s a very small and very private ceremony that doesn’t really matter much to either of them but conceptually being husband and wife feels very funny and novel and also just makes sense

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: i cannot choose but for this instance i will go with nate

Why them?: they talk a lot about literature and food and music and lane bids on antique furniture for nate because he doesn’t know how to use ebay. it’s a very precious friendship for them both

What were their first impressions of each other?: lane is weary of nate because he’s so charming that she worries that maybe he’s TOO confident. it passes when he gives that exasperated vibe off over felix being overtly outgoing in like a “oh he’s the parent” kind of way. he also has this comforting presence and she worries that he assumes she needs to be comforted. nate is weary of lane because while he’d never assume that someone is incapable at first glance, lane looks like a stiff wind would blow her over and that she hasn’t slept in a year. also his first genuine sight and impression of her is this tiny person taking a coffee pot apart piece by piece and grumbling very angrily to herself.

What do they do to spend time together?: nate purchases period piece luxury furniture and sometimes it is not in the best condition so lane and nate restore old furniture together. they debate about shakespeare and different genres of music. sometimes they play together. they swap recipes and while nate doesn’t gossip much, he always listens to station drama over tea/coffee.

Anything else you’d like to share: nate is the first person lane talks to about becoming a vampire. she knows he has his own reservations and she needs to hear them. also lane, nate and felix paint each other’s nails every few weeks. adam has an open invitation that he cashes in maybe twice a year.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: bad! they are strangers to each other and also very sad reflections of one another. rebecca makes lane feel so small without even trying

Relationship with Rook: rook was as beloved in wayhaven as lane is now, if not more so. she hears about him in stories that every adult in town seem to know. he’s her hero and she’s always a bit devastated that she never got to know him. lane had a crisis of identity in her sophomore year of college and suddenly the stories she’d always heard felt like a calling to try to be good like rook. this ends up being why she declared her major in forensic science and started working towards becoming a detective like he was

Relationship with Bobby: it’s pretty much fine. neither of them were great when they were together and lane feels a bit bad now because she definitely used him. he did the same, for a few reasons. they’re okay now, but lane kind of feels kind of weird about the 8 months they dated.

Relationship with Verda: they are science best friends. they drink wine on the porch on summer nights, and lane babysits the kids when sol and eric need a night off

Relationship with Tina: very close. your best coworker friend who you start spending time with outside of work and then you realize that you are almost spending all of your time together with them actually. lane’s spent the last two years worth of holidays with the ponames

Relationship with the Mayor: not great! she’s very ‘by the book’ but always takes the chance to snark him. used to egg his house as a teen

Relationship with Capt. Sung: she sees him as a weird general manager at work and can be fine with small and idle chatting when they run into each other at town functions

Relationship with Haley: haley and lane hooked up a lot when lane and bobby broke up. they were band kids in high school together and it’s a very important friendship for lane

Relationship with Elidor: she is so comforted by this fae man. they talk science, they chat about personal dreams, huge hugs.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: lane has a friendly relationship with vieno! they call her buddy and she internally is like “i am! i am your buddy!”

Relationship with Unit Alpha: dunks on maaka for making fun of nate and adam. they’re pretty blunt and open and she likes that energy a lot

Relationship with the Maa-alused: a lot of guilt over them losing their home. lane gets the vibe that falk was flirting but she didn’t want to assume but also she was into it. devastated by the fact that she could have saved sanja if she hadn’t let her feelings cloud her sense of logic.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?):

this is. a lot. (CW death and vehicular trauma) there was a boy who lane grew up with, who lived in the house across the street from her childhood home. by far, her best friend. they started dating freshman year of high school, and ended up in the same university, still together. lane was a comm major until her sophomore year and the two of them started a band in high school that became the band that lane was in for years.

in their sophomore yr of college, he proposed and lane said yes, of course, they had NO plan or any idea outside of the band of what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. that same year, they ended up in a car crash and he did not make it. this is what triggered lane to kind of lose a lot of her sense of identity. she found comfort in stories about rook and decided that—with no direction, who would be better to emulate than her hero? her partner’s name was david, they were soulmates and ya she still misses him

other than that, the two other guys that were in the band who she has not seen since the funeral. i have this idea in my head of writing the scene where they visit and meet unti bravo which would be entirely for me and my own little rat brain

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: very laid back and open/honest. easygoing

Strengths: very detail oriented, can spot the faintest whiff of a pattern and connect dots with sparse evidence. emotionally driven to the point that she pushes herself beyond her limits to do a job well. very technologically savvy

Weaknesses: emotionally driven lmao cannot separate herself from a case once she’s started, feels personally responsible for everyone she could not save. bottles up her anger until she has no choice but to deal w it via crying.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the east coast. near a wawa

What is their personal history?: lane is a town stray. she had her house with nannies and agency babysitters who weren’t invested in her emotional growth and well-being, so her defacto family is uh all of wayhaven. neighbors, mailmen, friends parents, shop owners. she connects as much as she can with everyone in town. she drifts a lot between them, and after the accident she realizes that she would do anything to protect these people

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: if rook were never a detective, lane would have probably leaned less on stories of his heroism. she probably would have stuck closer to her friends and tried to commit to making music her full time job

Anything else you’d like to share: she picked up smoking very young and it’s genuinely surprising to people that she has never questioned why she does it or that she’s never had any intention of quitting ever

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: sagittarius

Hobbies: furniture restoration, making music, walking, cooking/baking

Likes: a funky little bass line, marlboro menthols, giving piggy back rides, painting walls, being a lab tech and assistant for verda, sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night

Dislikes: arguing, loud noises, when it gets too hot outside, when it gets too cold outside, when she catches someone in a lie and they continue to deny it

Drink of choice: black coffee w a little cinnamon mixed in the grounds

Starbucks order: 6 shot latte w soy

Favorite food: grilled eggplant

Favorite color: this color is called black bean it’s this

Favorite music: not to be annoying but truly all of it there is something she can enjoy in every genre but early 2000’s rnb and hard core punk probably

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): she loves a rom com but also thrillers. her favorite movies are muppets treasure island and ratatouille

Favorite season: spring!

Anything else you’d like to share: her car’s name is Hank