#the wayhaven chronicles fanfic

[nreads]

Mishka had an old ask where MC jokingly proposes to N after seeing the warehouse library. Based on that, I thought about an A-mancing detective who is also a bibliophile revealing that they had the same impulse:

MC: You know, N, I nearly asked you to marry me after seeing the warehouse library.

N, smiling: Is that so?

MC: Yes, almost dropped down on one knee and everything.

N laughs and is about to say something before they are interrupted by A

A, shoulders tense, trying to keep their voice casual: You are aware, Agent, that several books in that library are my contribution?

All eyes snap to A. A shifts in their seat, regretting saying anything.

MC, pressing their lips together to suppress a smile, their voice full of amusement anyway: Do you want me to propose to you?

A, with tight voice: Of course not.

MC, F, and M laugh, and even N has to hide a grin, and A's shoulders just keep getting more tense.

F whispers to M: They realise they aren't even in a relationship, right? And they're joking about proposing?

M : They're idiots.

[svenzerosven]

found this amazing wayhaven fanfic and now im lost in tears, angst, sadness and maybe, just maybe, a little hope.

[nat-seal-well]

sweet tooth

(or, less than 900 words of Nat/Ava. this might get posted to ao3 later.)

When Ava kisses her, Nat tastes rich. Not the kind that comes with living for as long as their kind does, but rich in all the ways that her second-in-command seems to revel in.

Ava tastes the cocoa of the cake Nat had at the cafe during their stake-out earlier, under the guise of coffee and lunch: cocoa, and the sweet cream filling between the sponge layers. She closes her eyes at the sensation of Nat’s lips slotting against hers, warm and soft, and recalls the way Nat had run her tongue over the silver fork; an action as innocent as it was impossible to look away from as she savored every bit of the dessert before her.

In all of their centuries together, Ava still cannot understand it, even as she tangles her hand in Nat’s hair to keep her close to chase the taste on her lover’s tongue. Food is wasted on them, and yet Nat still indulges anyway. She prefers sweet over savory, Ava has learned after countless observations, but has a penchant for baked goods, like the cake she ordered after an unneeded Cobb salad lunch.

He’s still there, she’d said, referring to the pawn shop across the street that their target had vanished into. We can’t very well leave until he does, can we? Besides, if we don’t get dessert, we’ll raise suspicion when we linger.

It was sound advice, even when Ava knew it was just because Nat wanted to satisfy a craving. She still insisted on being the one who paid the bill anyway, slamming down a handful of bills on the metal table when they had to go chasing after their target not even five minutes later. Nat had to leave her cake only half-finished, a fact that she was still mourning, even though they turned their zip-tied and subdued man over to the Agency two hours ago. Up until Ava kissed her, that is.

When they pull away, Ava takes a moment to relish the taste of the woman she pulled into her lap. She nuzzles at the underside of Nat’s jaw and traces the sharp edge with her nose. It makes Nat laugh. With them as close as they are, Ava can feel the sound as it washes over her.

“It’s unlike you to be so forward, Commanding Agent.” Nat purrs. She only likes to invoke Ava’s name when she wants to be flirtatious, a fact that does not go unnoticed.

Ava presses her lips in an open-mouthed kiss to Nat’s throat, and tastes the perfume there. “You were going on about how lunch ended; I only wanted to see if it was as good as you were making it out to be. I know how you are.”

Manicured nails undo the knot at the back of Ava’s head to comb through her hair. They scratch deliciously over her scalp. “Oh? And what’s your verdict on the flavor profile?”

“Delicious,” Ava responds, but it is not the cake she is thinking of.

“I didn’t take you for much of a sweet tooth,” Nat teases as she toys with the hair at the nape of Ava’s neck.

Ava turns her head to kiss the soft flesh at the inside of Nat’s elbow. “I am not, under normal circumstances. But you are always the exception.”

It is a truth too close to her heart—she cannot bring herself to make eye contact afterward, afraid of what this fragile hint of admittance might bring, but her concerns are chased away by a hand wandering down her side. It ghosts over her shirt, down one thigh, and comes to a halt only when Nat reaches the silver buckle of her own leather belt.

Of course, Nat does not linger on the implications of what Ava said. She smooths them over instead, the way she always does, and focuses on what she can expand on in order to keep Ava from running. Even when she knows what Nat is doing, she finds she is unable to do anything but freeze and wait for her orders.

“Well, then,” Nat says, low and for no one else in the world to hear but her. When Ava finally scrapes enough courage together to look up, Nat’s eyes are as dark as the cocoa in the cake they have both had the pleasure of enjoying. “If you’re still in the mood for something sweet…”

Pale fingers replace Nat’s own, and the metal buckle jingles as Ava allows her hands to lapse into motions that have been repeated so many times, they are nothing but muscle memory. This, she can face: the physical action and sensations Nat wants to offer. The easy way out, rather than the tender part of herself hidden away, bricked up and safe between the junction of her fourth and fifth rib.

Perhaps one day Ava will be able to face her without feeling like a coward, but for now, she must settle for the squeeze of Nat’s thighs around her waist as she carries her closest companion to the bed that waits for them.

It is enough, she tells herself, and she almost believes it.

[itsmistyeyedbi]

late night courage

Pairing: F!Detective/Farah Hauville

Word Count: 2,5k

Prompt: First

Tags: @happyhauvillebday

Summary: Dinner at Tina’s leaves much food for thought for Farah. The conversation that ensues takes a turn that neither of them were expecting.

She never knows what to do with…this.

With people like her, genuine and hopeful and bright. People who choose to be those things, to embody them, despite the experiences they have and the things they've seen that give them every right not to be. Zuri admires them and their spirit that seems to be as sure as the rising sun. She can never quite grasp that kind of strength, no matter how much time she has spent imitating it. She can be warm and hopeful…and genuine, when she let's herself be.

But what's a heat lamp to the sun?

It's nothing compared to the real thing.

And yet, some of them are drawn to her anyway. Like a moth to a flame, not realising that the warmth they want to bask in is not as gentle as the sun. It could burn them to a crisp, because there is such a thing as being too close for too long. It could burn them, even though it doesn't want to. Even though it craves their company, their touch.

It would be easier if she could stay away but she never really can. She never really wants to. So she falls into a familiar song and dance of getting as close as she can without letting them in, giving as much warmth as she can without burning them, keeping her distance when they get too eager and fly closer to the flames than they should. That push and pull that never satisfies but keeps them safe.

How much is that safety worth?

Farah makes her question that everyday.

Zuri is questioning it now with Farah at her side, the back of their hands brushing against each other as they stroll towards her car. Her pinky twitches and she glances at her, her heart stopping for a second when their eyes meet. It's taking everything in her not to take her hand in hers, to feel their fingers intertwine.

She looks away, focuses on her surroundings instead - the sound of their footsteps are accompanied by the chirping of crickets, softening the silence of the night. The sky is dark and speckled with stars, a gentle breeze makes the skirt of Farah’s dress tickle her skin, her pinky grazes hers and there's a fluttering in her stomach-

Okay, this isn't working.

Zuri swallows and moves her hand away to hold it in her own instead, massaging her palm with her thumb. She needs to get a grip. They've been alone for what, two minutes? And her impulse control reverts to the one she had in highschool - useless in the face of someone who has an interest in her. She won't be rash about this, not when it comes to her. Not when she doesn't think she can give her what she wants.

The fluttering turns into a churning when she catches the disappointment on Farah's face.

She hates how often she causes that. She never wanted to be the reason she feels that way. But the little disappointments are better than the one that would come if they were something more…right?

Zuri turns around and leans against the hood of her car, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she smiles at Farah. She returns it as though she was never anything less than content, the streetlight closeby bathing her in a golden glow, tracing the curves of her face and bouncing off of the coils of her hair. God, she looks like an angel.

“Did tonight go the way you hoped it would?”

Right, the dinner. With Tina. It..slipped her mind for a second there.

She shrugs one shoulder, peering at the house they just left. “I figured it would go well the moment you agreed to come. You two are pretty similar, I couldn't see you not getting along.”

“That's to be expected when I'm the type of company you keep. Who wouldn't like me?” Farah gestures to herself with a grin.

Zuri shakes her head, laughing softly before they fall into silence. Something about the question lingers in the air between them. Or maybe it's just in her head and Farah is being her usual self. Either way, she doesn't know what to do with it yet.

So she changes the subject.

“Speaking of the company I keep,” she raises a brow. “What were you and Tina talking about when I was gone?”

Farah's eyes widen and then she laughs, the sound making her heart stir in her chest and before she knows it she's doing the same. Softly, just like before, so she can hear her laugh ring out around them and imprint itself in her mind again.

“You're still thinking about that?”

“Yes, you were being all sneaky about it! I wanna know what was up.”

It's a genuine question, despite the timing. Something was definitely going on with them and were a little too enthusiastic while dodging her questions. They're clearly already a duo she'll have to keep her eye on.

“It's nothing crazy, seriously. We were just talking about you.”

Zuri turns her head and narrows her eyes. That's the obvious answer so it doesn't tell her much.

“Me?”

“Yup.”

Farah watches her gleefully, rocking back and forth on her feet. The silence continues for a few short seconds before she scoffs playfully. “Don't act like you didn't know. You mean a lot to both of us, of course we'd talk about you.”

Zuri’s hands press against the hood of the car as she leans forward and aims a light-hearted glare her way. “I know that I was the hot topic of the night. What I don't know is what about me was being discussed. So spill.”

“We were talking about how you're doing,” her grin softens into a weak smile as she rubs the back of her neck. “Or how you're not doing. In a general kind of way.”

“Oh.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. How did that even come up among the conversations about supernaturals and how wrong books and movies have been about them? Was Tina worried about her? Was Farah? Did something she say make them think they needed to be?

“Man, Tina warned me about this but I thought I'd manage to make it home before caving.”

Zuri blinks and looks up at Farah. When did she look away? How did she manage that when she's standing right in front of her, her eyes the colour of honey when it's held up to the sun, framed by long lashes and soft with concern.

“It's funny,” she continues with a frown on her face. “I've been talking about how busy things have been lately and how we barely get to spend time together, but…it's always been busy for you, hasn't it?”

“I don't know, has it?” Zuri can't say it hasn't been busy. The little moments she's managed to steal away for herself feel like they happened months ago, fleeting as the flicker of a light. And even those moments couldn't be deemed relaxing, not when a part of her was holding its breath, waiting for the next threat to her life.

“You can tell me,” she urges gently. “You know that right?”

“I know,” Zuri sighs. She deserves a more honest answer than that. “I guess it has been busy.”

Farah offers her a wry smile and steps closer to her. “That means this probably isn't going to be as easy in the future.”

Wait what?

“What? Us?”

“Oh, uh- well, I mean,” she lets out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to the ground before meeting her gaze again. “I meant us spending time together but that works too. But now that I think about it, I don't know how easy either of those things have been.”

“You know that isn't because of you, right?” The words rush out of her mouth before she can think or process the surge of shock she felt. “If anything hasn't been easy, it isn't because of you. You being around is probably the easiest part about all this.”

“That's a relief to hear. I was getting worried for a second,” Farah jokingly wipes her forehead but the motion is too stiff to be playful, the relief too obvious in how the tension in her face eases.

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she mutters before shaking her head and continuing before Zuri can respond.

“Anyway, what I'm trying to say is - it's okay to not be okay after getting sucked into all this supernatural business. I don't think anyone would be if they went through half the things you've been through. And I hope you know that whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, or just…need me, I'll be there.”

She pauses and leans forward, her shoulders raised close to her ears as she smiles sheepishly. “We all will be, but I am hoping you'd sorta kinda want to come to me first,”

She's far too sweet for her own good. Zuri chuckles, her eyes lingering on the curve of her lips before looking back up at her. Warmth blooms in her chest and spreads across her cheeks while she wraps her arms around herself.

“You'll be the first to know when I need a shoulder, I promise,” she says softly. “And um, thank you.”

Farah nods and rubs her arm with her hand, her face growing pensive as she takes a breath. It doesn't seem like she's finished yet. Zuri watches her, trying to reassure her. She can wait however long she needs to to hear more of what she has to say.

“And about that ‘us’…you don't have to worry about that.”

Zuris stomach drops when she says that. It must show on her face because her eyes widen and she frantically corrects herself, waving her hands in front of her.

“Nono, I'm not saying- what I mean is you can take your time. There's no pressure, I'm not going anywhere,” she reaches up to fiddle with the unicorn pendant hanging from her neck. “But whatever you decide, whenever you decide it, I hope we can still spend time together like this. For however long we can before some bad guy swoops in to steal you away.”

Shit. Zuri doesn't want her to think she doesn't want her. She does, more than she's wanted anyone in a long time. She just… doesn't know how to do this anymore. To make something last. As much as she wants to erase any doubt Farah has in her mind, it wouldn't be wise to rule out the possibility of there being no them, would it? They've been walking the razor's edge for months too, so who knows if she'll even want her afterwards? She could move on from her, find someone who's worth all the waiting she's done.

Zuri looks down at the cobblestone road. The thought of that hurts more than it should.

Shit.

Say something!

“I-” her voices hitches, she clears her throat before trying again. “I…don't know how much time we'll have to spend like this.”

That's what you chose to say. Great work, Zuri.

“Neither do I,” Farah's feet enter her view before a finger and a thumb is on her chin and tilting her head up, amber eyes unwavering as she gazes at her. “But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. You are so worth trying for.”

A shaky breath leaves Zuri’s lungs. Everything inside her comes to a halt, like every part of her wants to focus on nothing but the sound of Farah's voice. Like her words have stunned her entire being into silence.

That's just it, isn't it? That's what matters, if someone is worth trying for, outcomes be damned. And she believes that she is, despite…well, everything.

“Zuri? You okay?”

Something inside her comes undone, and a wave of emotion washes over her, kickstarting her body into gear and slowly forming a lump in her throat. She might not know how to do this, but for her, she'll try. She'll do whatever she can to make this work, no matter how scared she gets or how heartbreaking the end is. Being with her is worth whatever pain might come. And if she's the reason for any burns, she'll make sure to be the balm too.

It looks like it took Farah saying what should've been obvious to her out loud for her to get it.

Wow.

“Yeah,” she blinks a few times and clears her throat. “I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Farah lets go of her chin, barely moving an inch before Zuri’s hand grabs hers, her grip gentle as her thumb runs over her knuckles.

“Farah, I- you're so,” laughter bubbles up her throat, brief and maybe a little bit hysterical as she covers her face with her free hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. You're cute when you're flustered,” Farah says with a wink.

Zuri smiles bashfully and stares down at their hands. Her skin is warm and smooth against hers. She squeezes it gently and swallows before continuing. “You're worth trying for too. You always have been and I… feel a little ridiculous that I'm only really understanding what that means now. I'm sorry it took me this long.”

“Um, no problem,” Farah stares at her for a moment, eyes wide and lips parted. “Is this going where I think it's going?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She beams and rises on the balls of her feet before quickly settling herself down. Zuri's heart flutters in her chest. She seems so excited, ecstatic even for them to finally be in a relationship. She shouldn't keep her waiting any longer.

“I know you've wanted what's been going on between us to be something real. Something more than flirting that doesn't go anywhere. I wish I could've given you that sooner but,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to quell the doubt creeping into her mind.

She holds Farah's gaze and lets it spur her forward. “If you still want that, want me, I'd like to give that to you now-”

Farah flings herself at Zuri. She lets out an oof as their bodies collide and arms wrap around her neck. “Yes! Please do! Like, right now if you want to.”

Zuri giggles and wraps her arms around her waist, breathing in the burst of zest and citrus from her perfume. Their hearts beat in tandem against their chests, hands clutching at each other as they hold each other close; she's so warm… holding her is like holding the sun.

Farah gives her a squeeze before pulling away enough to see her face. “Of course I still want you. I never stopped, and I never will.”

Heat settles in Zuri’s cheeks as she tries and fails to respond, all that comes out is a string of incomprehensible, half-spoken words that are shortly interrupted by laughter.

“God, what are you doing to me?”

“Let me know when you figure that out so I can keep doing it.”

Zuri huffs, shaking her head and smiling softly. “You know, I don't usually ask people out. Not with it meaning what it means right now. This is a first for me.”

Farah snuggles into her, her cheek pressing against her neck. Her voice is muffled, but she can still hear her smile.

“I'm glad you did.”

[tommykinard217]

This Thing Between Us

Pairing: Detective/ Mason

Rating: T

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Summary: In the aftermath of the botched ritual, Marcus and Mason share a moment together

AO3 link

Fic will also be posted under the cut if you prefer to read on here! I hope you enjoy!

Marcus was exhausted in a way that felt like no matter how much rest he got, he'd never be able to quite shake it. It's been hours after the events in the forest. After Li-Sar and…whatever he did to Marcus. The energy that had been crackling under his skin seemed to settle, at least a little, but that wasn't enough to placate the Agency. They had decided that it was best to keep Marcus at the facility to more closely monitor the strange magic pulsing in his veins, and to see if they could figure out the how and why's of said magic's existence.

That all made sense to Marcus, and he agreed, but that didn't mean he didn't want his own bed. That didn't mean he wanted any of this to have happened in the first place. Especially considering what he had done.

Mason had been pretty insistent that the wound that still hadn't healed wasn't Marcus's fault, and that he trusted that Marcus wouldn't do it again.

And he wouldn't. Marcus would rather die than hurt Mason again, in any capacity.

But that didn't change the possibility that something could happen outside of his control. He didn't know anything about controlling magic, or even having magic at all. And now he had to learn how to control and navigate one of the few magics that could seriously hurt the people he loved.

Marcus threw his head back onto the firm pillow, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell things ended up like this.

“You doing okay, handsome?” Mason's voice came from the doorway, where he was leaning against the now open frame. Marcus had been so distracted by his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard Mason open the door.

“Doing as okay as one can, I guess.” Marcus had shrugged, not exactly sure how else to answer. His lips had thinned in worry as he looked Mason over, noticing the bandage wrapping Mason's arm and hiding the wound from view. “I'm more worried about you.”

Mason rolled his eyes, walking closer before deciding to sit down in the chair next to his bed. “We're not doing this again. You're not going to hurt me again. I'm fine.”

Marcus sighed, a wet sound almost stuck in his throat. “I wish I had your confidence.” He said, voice almost trembling with emotion. “I don't know how to control any of this. I reached out for you, and you got hit by…whatever the hell this magic is.” He could still see the searing wound in his mind, burnt into his memories. “Am I supposed to just never touch you again?”

Mason rolled his eyes, acting way too unbothered by the situation. “Yeah, that's not going to happen. I trust you, handsome. You gotta trust yourself too.”

Trust. The mere thought made his throat choke up with more emotions. He knew trust was hard to come by when it came to Mason, and sure Marcus knew that trust was there after everything they'd been through, but to hear it from the vampire himself…it was something Marcus would cherish.

“I know,” he eventually relented, “but you can't blame me for being worried. I don't even know exactly what Li-Sar did to me back in that clearing. What if the solar magic is the least of it?” Marcus said, watching as Mason moved to grab his hand, playing with his fingers absentmindedly. He wondered if Mason was doing it as if to say ‘see? I'm touching your hand right now and I haven't gotten blasted’. Or maybe Mason wasn't even really thinking about the action and just did it. Either way, the sweetness of the gesture made Marcus's heart swell with a never ending fondness.

“What the hell even happened with that Li-Sar guy anyways? I know you said you don't remember much, but…” he trailed off, but Marcus knew what he was getting at. Maybe now that time has passed, and Marcus was (relatively) calm, he'd be able to remember more important details.

“It's still a little blurry in my head, honestly. It was all rather surreal.” Marcus started, biting his lip gently as he tried to recall any important details he might have missed. “Ostin did the ritual, Li-Sar materialized, and then he…” Marcus trailed off, not exactly knowing how to explain that this incredibly powerful being was free from his centuries long imprisonment and his first action was to flirt with Marcus.

“He what, handsome?” Mason said, tense, as if the answer might have him springing out of his seat to find Li-Sar in seconds. Marcus squeezed Mason’s hand once, gently, before continuing.

“He flirted with me? Which sounds ridiculous, I know-” A low almost growl-like sound left Mason's throat, his eyebrows drawn in clear irritation. Marcus frowned at the reaction, confused, but pressed on. “-but he did. Said I was ‘tempting’.” Marcus let out a small laugh at that. It was simply his blood that was tempting, he knew it, but there was something almost comical about some ancient powerful being finding Marcus of all people ‘tempting’.

“He's not wrong. Don't like that he agrees though.” There was a weird tone to Mason's voice, one Marcus couldn't exactly place.

“Unfortunately, I can't help that my blood is apparently a supernatural siren call.” Marcus shrugged, the movement jostling Mason a little bit, who looked up in bemusement.

“You sure he meant the blood, handsome?” Mason had asked him, still absentmindedly playing with Marcus's fingers. Marcus nearly sighed at the sweet gesture and sight, but suppressed it, choosing to focus on Mason’s question.

“I mean, like I said, he was flirting, but I have no clue if it's just because he wants my blood for whatever reason or if he wants the whole, uh, package, so to speak. Not that I'm particularly happy with either option, especially considering he barbecued a man right in front of me.” Marcus couldn't help but wince as he remembered Ostin’s charred and battered remains. “Regardless of Ostin trying to attack me, that felt…excessive.”

Mason's brows furrowed, processing everything just said. “Can't say he didn't get what he deserved, but we need to find this guy. I hate the idea of him lurking around, waiting to get to you.”

Marcus just sighed in response, moving so that there was room on the bed for Mason, hoping he'd get the hint. Mason did, immediately moving onto the bed with ease, pulling Marcus into his arms immediately. Neither really needed the comfort, or the closeness. But it was nice. It was right. How it should be.

“I'm not exactly thrilled about that thought either.” Marcus hesitated, hand moving to play with Mason's hair like he'd been wanting to since that morning, before things went to shit. After a moment of internal debate, he decided to go for it, hand gently sinking into the soft waves. Mason seemed to relax even deeper into their embrace, but his gaze was still fixed on where his and Marcus's other hand was still intertwined. “Especially considering he thinks he has some sort of claim on me.”

Mason's eyes snapped up to Marcus's in that instance, all of the tension that had been released from their embrace and from Marcus playing with his hair immediately snapped back into place. “What?”

Marcus blinked at Mason, somewhat bewildered by his reaction before realizing that no, he hadn't mentioned that before. “Oh, yeah. After what he did to Ostin, he said that it was because he went after what was his. I questioned that, and then he said that I wasn't his yet, but that I would be. And then he did whatever the hell it was that gave me solar magic.” He shuddered at the memory, both because of Li-Sar’s words and because of the pain he had gone through. That was definitely something he hoped he wouldn't have to experience again.

Mason's arm tightened its hold around Marcus, as if Li-Sar was on his way right now to rip them apart, his expression shuttered with an expression Marcus couldn't quite place. Then, a smirk, with not as much heat or heart as his usual ones, took its place. “He'll have to get in line, I think.” Marcus knew he was trying to deflect, rather than mean it with any true flirtation, the roughness in his voice and the tenseness in his body an indicator that he was much more bothered by the turn of conversation than he wanted to show.

“Yeah? And you're at the front of this line?” And thus, Marcus himself decided to deflect too. And maybe try to get a glimpse into whatever the hell was building between them.

Mason scoffed, bringing Marcus's hand up to his mouth. Not quite touching with his lips, but close enough for his breath to fan against the skin, goosebumps rising at the feeling. “I should be the only one in line, handsome.”

The words caused Marcus's heart to skip a beat, the intensity in Mason's eyes piercing through him. He licked his lips reflexively, and Mason's eyes tracked the movement like a hawk, darkening with an all too familiar want.

“You're the only one I'd want to be in line, you know that.” Mason did know that, right? That despite them not having slept together or even kissed, that he was the only one Marcus wanted. It was obvious. Even if Mason only wanted sex from him, it was evident that Marcus foolishly hoped for more. Love, sex, he was greedy for the man next to him. Mason had to know that.

Mason stared at him, grey eyes burning into brown, a severity in them that Marcus couldn't hope to decipher. “Is that so, handsome? You've got an interesting way of showing it.” Marcus frowned slightly, confused. He'd made it clear what he wanted from Mason from the get go. It wasn't his fault Mason wanted less, or at least, that he refused to acknowledge that he wanted more.

“You know what I want, Mason.” He said softly, hand slipping out of Mason’s grip and moving to cup the other man's face. Mason immediately sunk into the action, eyes flickering closed for a moment before focusing back on Marcus. “I'm just here waiting.” He'd always be waiting.

Mason looked like he was about to answer, the tension building between the two of them, but the second he opened his mouth, another voice broke through the quiet.

“So what's all this then?” Felix said, a mischievous tone in his voice as he stood in the door frame. Marcus couldn't help but laugh as Mason growled at Felix, who was, as usual, completely unbothered. “Don't tell me I walked in right before things were getting good.” As if Felix didn't have super hearing and didn't know exactly what they were discussing, but Marcus figured they were needed for something, so unfortunately their conversation had to continue at another time. If there was even going to be another time.

Marcus had a sneaking suspicion that this whole business with Li-Sar was going to make moments alone like this an impossibility, and Felix’s next words had immediately proven that suspicion correct.

“We've apparently got a lead on where that Li-Sar guy went, so they need you both for the debriefing.”

The two had shared a look, one of frustration and resignation, but also determination. They'd figure this out. All of this. Li-Sar. This thing between them. They'd figure it out.

Right?

[crownleys]

In that third drawer of my desk, beside the letters and the book, there are a pair of portraits. One is of my brother and I, before he went to sea, and it is… a strange feeling, to see him again. To recognise yourself in the features of someone you lost, so long ago; someone who you have loved for so much longer. A lifelong grief, recurring---a memory of a memory of a memory, and yet still it slices the same, even after all this time. Like an intake of breath, the shiver of realisation; what you thought you had forgotten, and what you’d sworn you’d never lose. My brother's eyes---they are always so startlingly blue. Vanilla, Bergamot by @evilbunnyking

A commission for @evilbunnyking based on the fic "Vanilla, Bergamot" (which happens to be one of my favorites, so I was delighted to draw for it!) of Nat and Milton! Thank you so much for commissioning me, Bunny!

[fauville]

sweet dreams

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

rating: mature

pairings: ava du mortain/female detective (vesper graves), nate sewell/female detective (charlie langford)

chapters: 5/?

A/N: I HAVE NO EXCUSE! but here is (finally, FINALLY) chapter 5 of sweet dreams. there's decriptions of death and suicide (in dreams) in this chapter as well as more creepy horror elements, so take care of yourself. 🩷

taglist: @agentnatesewell, @carriehobbs, @lalizah, @kibellah (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

summary:

Vesper sees it now out of the corner of her eye when she’s at the beach again, sitting on the sand and watching the surf and the white foam and her projections of sea gulls and fish. It's sitting on the bulwark, eyes incessantly on her.

read in ao3.

[vilnan]

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

rating: mature (minors dni)

pairing: nat sewell/female detective (unnamed)

word count: 1,072

A/N: been meaning to write this for literal years lol. be kind, my first twc fic in years <3

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

There's you, there's Nat and there's a piano.

There’s also a look exchanged, which ignites something deep and molten in the pit of your stomach as your breath starts to quicken at the sight of Nat's warm brown eyes glinting with desire.

You're sitting on top of the grand piano and you stare at each other, vampire and human, the moment crackling with electricity around you. You are incredibly aware of Nat's power as a supernatural during this moment. She could kill you with a snap of her fingers. You're not sure why you find the thought so appealing and you are certain Nat would be absolutely horrified if she knew what you're thinking, but luckily mind reading isn’t one of Natalie Sewell's many talents yet.

Nat wiggles you out of your shirt, laughing when the fabric gets stuck on the silver necklace you're wearing, making you curse under your breath. You try to settle your nerves by steadying your breath, but it's all but useless. It's a little frustrating to lose your composure so easily, when Nat appears to be in full control of herself despite her obvious desire for you. At least for now. You hope that will change.

When your shirt is finally out of the way, Nat's eyebrow quirks, your blush deepens and her long fingers dance on the bare skin over your ribs; like she is playing them the same way she played the piano for you only a few moments earlier.

You sigh at her touch, and Nat smiles, wholeheartedly gentle, and you kiss her, because there's no other conclusion for this moment. You love kissing Nat. She does it like she does everything: all-encompassingly.

Her lips are so soft and pillowy you absent-mindedly wonder what lip balm she uses, before all the thoughts disappear from your mind at the force of Nat's devotion to you. You love her so much you feel faint with it; it feels it wouldn't even be possible to adore a person so much as you adore Nat, its might almost taking you by surprise during this moment.

[ao3 link]

Nat helps you out of your bra by unhooking the clip at the front, taking the time to compliment the rosy pink colour against your complexion, which makes you giggle stupidly, because you're so in love with this one woman you would do absolutely anything she asks or desires of you. It should be scary but it isn't, because she's Nat.

You attempt to remove Nat's green shirt as well, but she gently pushes your eager hands away and instead opens the button and zipper of your washed up jeans and helps you out of them.

Then she falls on her knees and the sight takes you out of breath, makes you feel like all of this is just a hazy dream and you will soon wake up with your life turned back to normal without this devastatingly attractive vampire kneeling in front of you. You scoot closer to the edge of the piano when Nat crooks her forefinger invitingly.

And then… then her mouth is on you.

There’s fabric between you, but that doesn't slow Nat down at all, she's eager and you're wet, and it's so good you almost feel like you're going to pass out at any second.

Nat doesn't let you, though. She folds her hand into yours, linking your fingers as she devours you with your lips, keeping you in this moment with her. Not letting you escape.

The piano’s surface is cold against your back, but you're barely even aware of it, to be honest. You can't feel anything else but Nat. And that's possibly her whole point.

After a moment Nat pulls back to breathe and finally diacards your underwear. Your flimsy pink panties are left to dangle from your ankle, as Nat returns to her task to make your world a better place. She's so fucking amazing that you feel almost livid with it, because you know in your heart that you don't deserve her, you never will. But that doesn't mean you can't try.

You moan and Nat echoes it to you. Her lips are glistening as she raises her head to meet your almost fever-like gaze. She smiles, a little smug, her fingers stroking the side of your left thigh, leaving only goosebumps behind.

“You're nearly there, ya rouhi,” Nat murmurs. “Good girl,” she adds, almost cheekily, and you feel like you could burst from the seams. Or maybe just die.

You groan and kick her shoulder lightly with your foot, the underwear drooping on it flying away, which only makes her chuckle, amused at your impatience.

She leans back towards your, pressing a  sweet sort of kiss to your inner thigh, making your heart feel fuller than it's ever been, before putting her mouth on you again.

You moan and sigh and groan, and Nat takes all of it as if they were a gift, her tongue working wickedly on your wet core. You think she might be naturally gifted at it, and only realise you have said it aloud, when Nat giggles, endlessly amused, with a shake of her head. Her soft hair brushes your naked sensitive skin as she shakes with laughter. You would probably get offended if you weren't so out of it, the pleasure making you feel soft as dough.

“Nat…” you say and you're not proud of how her name comes out of your mouth more like a whine.

Nat hushes you, before licking you again, almost ferociously. She wants you to come, wants it badly, and it doesn't take long for it to happen.

It's a thunderwave, a tsunami, a hurricane, and you scream so loudly that you're worried that Farah will come running soon in her need for misguided mischief.

Then you laugh. And Nat laughs, still on her knees in front of you, fully dressed. You lift yourself up as Nat retrieves your misplaced panties (they're somehow stuck on a lampshade) and brings them to you. She offers them to you, but you just raise your eyebrow and Nat ends up sliding them on you, her touch teasing and soft.

She bends down to kiss you. You kiss her.

“Well,” you say, “I wouldn't mind having more piano lessons with you some other time, Ms. Sewell.”

Nat grins. “Your desire is my command,” she says, utterly sincere.

[sustainably-du-mortain]

The art of losing

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Characters: f!detective (Sadie Langford) & Unit Bravo Word count: ~2.5k A/N: Here's my secret santa for @nsewell. I had so much fun getting to know Sadie for this @wayhavensecretsanta! She's a sweetheart and I hope I did her justice. I hope you'll enjoy this!!

A yell echoes down the corridors as soon as Morgan steps inside the warehouse, making her instinct take over as she runs to the source of the ruckus. 

The screams lead her to the living room, and although she’s not quite sure what to expect, she understood, as the screams turned into a weird mix of laughter and complaints, that she didn’t have to worry. So, when she reaches the door, it’s not worry guiding her anymore but curiosity. What she definitely didn’t expect to find though, is the rest of the team, sitting on the carpet, Ava, towering over the other three as she kneels over the coffee table; pointing an accusing finger at Farah.

“I know you’re cheating!” She growls, almost making Morgan shiver. This is a tone the commanding agent rarely uses on them - despite them constantly getting on her nerves - and Ava must have sensed the very faint hint of fear in her teammates as her tone is way softer, almost pleading, when she adds: “You keep taking the pot!”

“How the heck do you want me to cheat!? I didn’t even know the rules of that game half an hour ago! You’re just mad because you’re losing-” The young vampire retorts, before she adds with a little glint of mischief in her eyes “-loser!”

Morgan has to hold back a laugh when Ava’s ears flush red with anger and Nat quickly scouts closer to her to land a soothing hand on her friend’s shoulder. She remembers a similar night, decades ago, when they had to ban game nights after Ava forced them to play the same game for hours because she kept losing or could tell that they were letting her win on purpose. Had she known they were playing a game, Morgan would have actually avoided the living room at all cost.

She catches Sadie’s gaze and cannot hold it anymore. The detective is seated between Ava and Farah and the look of pure panic in her eyes gives away that she’s regretting not going to the local Christmas market like they had planned. That she would have rather braved the heavy-falling snow than whatever is going on right now. 

‘Get me out of here’ she mouths, but Morgan doesn’t make any move to help her. In fact, she steps even further into the room, thinking this debacle might at least entertain her for a little while. It’s not like she’s got anything else to do anyways.

The detective, realizing that she won’t be able to get out so easily, mouths again ‘I hate you’, to which Morgan answers by blowing a kiss in her direction. 

Admitting her defeat, Sadie holds up her cat in Ava’s direction. “Could you hold while I play my turn, please?” She asks, barely hiding her attempt at defusing the situation.

And for a second, Morgan thinks this might work as Ava eyes the hairless cat, barely annoyed at being handled in such a way. She watches as the commanding agent sits back down, crossing her leg, almost preparing to take the cat. That is until she goes “You’ve been holding him just fine the whole time.”

Sadie makes a face at her. “Yeah, well unlike you, my legs are getting numb.” She states, not waiting for the vampire’s answer before putting the sheriff in her lap. The cat is already falling back asleep.

There's a moment of latency as everyone waits for Ava's reaction and, as she doesn't show any sign of exasperation, Sadie reaches for something on the table and the silence falls heavier when she makes it spin.

Morgan steps a little closer and sits on the sofa behind Sadie. On the table, she makes out the blurred lines of a wooden spinning top. Underneath it, the detective is crossing her fingers as tightly as she can bear.

In front of Sadie, two glass pebbles are sitting on the table. Morgan looks around the table and noticing that the others have similar piles before them - some much bigger, like Farah’s, and others only containing one more than Sadie’s stash, like Ava’s - she understands, despite having no idea what game they’re playing, that her friend is losing. 

The four faces of the spinning top become more and more visible as it slows down and starts wobbling. Although she can now make out the symbols on the four faces of the toy, she still doesn’t know what they’re supposed to represent. She hears Sadie take a deep breath before she actually stops breathing. She can’t help but think the human is being a little-over dramatic, but then…

***

The dreidel finally tips over and…

“Nun!” she yells, much louder than she intended. 

She hears Morgan hissing sharply behind her and realizes she’s probably broken her eardrums. So she turns around and mouths a silent apology, to which the vampire answers with only a grunt, before she goes back to the game.

Sadie stares at the dreidel laying on its side and lets out a relieved sigh. She’s not losing that round either, she thinks before handing her dreidel to Ava. The vampire sitting by her side, mumbles something as she does, but Sadie doesn’t get it. 

The two are competing for the second to last place and, so far, Ava is winning. Sadie crosses her fingers once again and prays. She prays that Ava lands on ‘Shin’, which would force her to add another token into the pot, meaning they’d be even. But as she realizes what she’s praying for, Sadie is torn between shame and an irrepressible need to laugh. She’s usually not that competitive, but seeing how invested she is in that game, she guesses being around Ava is starting to rub on her.

Ava spins the dreidel and it flies across the room, making everyone duck.

“Ava!” They all scream in unison.

“What?” She asks, acting like nothing happened. She acts like it’s completely normal to turn a dreidel into a projectile, despite the fact that they all know how much control she has over her own strength. 

Her ears turn pink as they all stare at her and she sheepishly avoids their gaze. A move Sadie has grown accustomed to these past months: she is trying to hide the shame of letting her emotions get the best of her. 

A loud gasp echoes around the room and they all turn to Nat who went to fetch the toy. “Ava! It made a dent in the wall!” she cries in horror, staring at the toy encrusted in the wall. 

Sadie’s mouth falls wide open and she struggles to hold back a laugh, but as she sees Farah and Morgan trying as hard as she is not to laugh and that the rest of Ava’s face is turning a bright shade of red, she cannot help but crack up in laughter. 

Ava and Nat instantly start arguing like an old married couple about repairing that hole.

But as the argument grows in length, Sadie’s attention is caught by a flash of light in the middle of the room. She could have sworn the Christmas tree wasn’t turned on when she  got here earlier this afternoon.

Farah, noticing her confusion, leans in her direction. “I set a timer,” she whispers, “although magic would have been cool!” She adds like she had just guessed what the human was thinking.

“You can do that with Christmas lights?” Sadie asks, genuinely surprised by that fact.

“Nat bought really fancy ones” Farah explains and Sadie can’t help but chuckle at this. 

Knowing Nat she should have known everything they had gotten to decorate the place was really expensive and she dares not imagine how much she actually paid. But judging by the tree sitting in the middle of the room, she probably spent more than Sadie’s salary this month.

This tree is so gigantic it’s almost comical. Upon seeing it, her first thought had been about Ava having a heart-attack when she first saw it and having another one when Nat asked her to bring it inside. Because although Nat could probably make Ava do anything as long as she used her best pleading eyes, Sadie is still wondering what Nat could have possibly bribed Ava with so that she accepted to do it. Not that she doubts Ava could do it, in fact, Sadie knows Ava can haul a tree without any difficulty. It’s just that her brain still cannot comprehend how she managed to fit that ginormous tree - that almost touches the high ceiling and takes up half of the room - through the tiny doors of the warehouse.

Yet it’s not the size that made Sadie burst into laughter when she first saw it, but rather the wide array of colors ornating it and she instantly guesses Farah had been the one doing the decoration.

She remembers the young vampire, less than a couple weeks ago, begging Ava to get a Christmas tree so that, as she put it, she could get the best of the human experience. But the commanding agent had refused, so Sadie supposes Farah must have changed strategy after that refusal and pulled on Nat’s heartstrings so that she would indulge her, like she always does, especially when Farah pulls the ‘I never got to be human’ card.

And today, Sadie was met with this… She’s not quite sure how to describe it. Calling it an atrocity would be quite harsh, but this is definitely a little bit of an eyesore. It’s like Farah had randomly grabbed garlands and ornaments and let her excitement take over when she put them on the tree. It kind of reminds her of that time her kindergarten teacher would let them decorate the Christmas tree in her room every year.

Sadie still has to hold back a laugh when she thinks of Nat’s reaction when she first saw it. She actually snorted when they decided to settle in the living room and saw Nat scrunching her nose at the sight of it, desperately trying to hide the fact that she disliked the arrangement. Before that, she had even caught her trying to arrange some of the garlands a little more neatly and actively replacing some. Nat had begged her not to tell Farah.

There’s a loud grunt by her side and Sadie realizes Ava and Nat have stopped arguing. And it seems like Ava has already played her turn. The dreidel they both share is laying on the table and she can’t believe her eyes. Ava has to put another token into the pot.

“This isn’t fair,” the vampire grunts.

“You’ve just got bad luck,” Nat tries to soothe her.

“My spinning wasn’t optimal. The cat sleeping in my lap is reducing my range of movement.”

“Are you really blaming the sheriff because you’re losing?” Sadie asks, offended.

“All I’m saying is that I couldn’t spin the dreidel properly.”

“Yet you’re still petting the cat,” Farah points out.

Ava’s mouth opens as she looks for something to say, but nothing comes out and instead she readjusts her position to accommodate the sheriff as he shifts in her lap. Sadie shakes her head, forces herself to look away not to let her feelings transpire. Yet she can’t hide the soft smile tugging at her lips after noticing the fondness with which Ava looks at her cat. Neither can she hide her heart beating a little too erratically.

She clears her throat. “It’s your turn, Nat,” she announces, barely hiding her attempt at changing the subject.

Yet as the small wooden top starts its rotation, her attention is brought back to the vampire sitting beside her.

Ava is readjusting the hairless cat’s sweater. She tugs on it, making sure it covers most of the sheriff’s body, despite the fact that it's not cold inside the warehouse. She rolls the little collar properly so that it doesn’t bother him, and when she’s done she scratches him behind the ears, a spot he particularly likes.

She likes catching these moments where the commanding agent briefly lets her guard down. These moments where her caring nature shows. Not only with her cat, but also with the members of the team. When she helps Nat to cook, despite the fact that she herself doesn’t eat. When she listens to Farah’s new interest that week and actively asks questions so that Farah knows she’s listening even though she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying. How she closes the blinds without a word when the sun shines a little too brightly through the windows, bothering Morgan. How she often comes to check on her when she’s sleeping over at the warehouse, making sure Sadie has everything she needs.

Despite how much she hates admitting it, she cares deeply for every single one of them.

Ava looks at her, a puzzled look on her face, and Sadie quickly reverts her eyes. She tries to find something else to look at other than the vampire sitting beside her, and her eyes land on the menorah sitting on the mantel.

This is the first menorah she has lit in years and, to be honest, she didn’t expect to find one here today - just like she wasn’t expecting the Christmas tree. But what really moved her was its beauty.

Sadie is usually not a material person, but this menorah is amazingly well-crafted. 

It looks a little bit like a tree made out of brass. The trunk divides into two branches, on each of them sits four flowers to hold the eight candles. The ninth flower sits in the middle, slightly higher than the others, and holds the shamash. 

Vines spread out  on each side of the trunk and rise to coil around the two branches holding the candles. On those vines are carved small, intricate flowers.

Upon seeing it, she teared up a little at the thought that Nat must have spent so much time carefully picking such a gorgeous menorah for her.

And so, after the sunset, before they started playing, she kindled the first candle, answering Farah’s questions about its meaning.

Someone taps on her shoulder, bringing her attention back to the game. They’re all looking at her expectantly and she understands that they’re waiting for her to add another token to the pot so that they can start another round of spinning, meaning she’s left with only one glass pebble.

Ava hands her the dreidel. She spins it and once again she’s crossing her fingers.

Sadie looks around herself as the spinning top starts wobbling. Ava is discreetly trying to pet her cat who purrs in the vampire laps, making the others chuckle. Farah whispers something to Morgan and they share a mischievous look and the detective wonders what they’re up to, although she’ll come to know sooner or later. Nat is sipping on her tea, keeping a fond eye on each of them and she smiles when their gaze meets.

The dreidel lands on ‘Shin’, but Sadie doesn’t care. She does feel a tinge of disappointment, especially since she has just taught them to play. But after all, this game is all about luck and she realizes she’s been lucky enough to find a new family this year, so maybe that’s all the luck she needed. 

[grapecaseschoices]

thank you for being a friend~

this is my @wayhavenficexchange gift to @rosejellyy. thank you so much for this opportunity to learn about iris; i adore her! i had a great time reading yours, and others, works in my research about her. i hope i did right by her and that you enjoy!

who: Iris Lee & Farah Hauville when: sometime post book three; so some spoilers but i tried to keep it vague what: that's my best friend, she a real cool chick. [a lot of introspection with smatterings of dialogue; 2.5k just about] where: haley's and the warehouse! warning: cute.

Growing up, Iris hadn't had many close friends.

The more correct determiner was 'any' -- Iris hadn't had any close friends. She had made acquaintances growing up and had even been invited to parties. But for the most part, Iris tried to keep to herself. Growing up, she had convinced herself that it had been to keep people from asking awkward questions, that it had been because she wanted to avoid any problematic situations for Rebecca. (She had hoped maybe if her mother viewed Iris as undemanding and manageable … convenient, even, that her mother could better make space for her.)

(Those were the little reassurances that lonely children whispered into their pillows as they tucked themselves to sleep.)

The truth of it was that Iris had been afraid.

The reasons behind her fear didn't matter at the moment. Partly because the concerns of that lonely little girl seemed feeble in the face of the woman she had become and the friendships she had made. But mostly because it was difficult for fear to violently, steadily erect itself into her consciousness at the face of Farah Hauville's twinkling, bright gaze.

Still, Iris had to fight a desire to fidget. She took a steadying breath, her eyes glued on Farah's face as her friend took everything before them. The truth was evident in the taller woman's expression, but she still had to ask: "Do you lik -- oomph."

As a detective, Iris prided herself on being discerning and understanding - and as a friend, she did her best to maximize those traits - so she probably should have seen this coming; nevertheless, she managed to absorb the impact of Farah's tacklehug (and bouncing shouts of happiness) enough to keep them both steady on their feet.

"How did you -- ! -- this is -- this ... ! ... and the colors! The unicorn is HUGE Iris!!"

Iris hugged Farah tightly in return, her own happiness bright inside her chest as she listened to the young vampire stumble over her words.

Farah pulled back slightly, golden eyes shining, "Did you -- you did all of this for me?"

"Tina and Nat helped. Actually, Tina helped a lot." It seemed fair to give credit where it was due. Especially since Tina was the only one with actual sleepover experience, Iris' former coworker and still close friend had been as much of a resource as Google.

It seemed even more fair to give Tina credit as it had been her suggestion.

The idea had been borne from a casual conversation during their first bi-monthly "friends date" at Hayleys. The change was difficult. And the new shift in Iris' career meant she wouldn't be able to see Verda and Tina as often as she had in the past. While they all agreed to continue meeting for drinks whenever possible, she had devised a more structured way to catch up with them. Dinner once a month with Sol and Verda (with an open invite to Ava) and coffee time twice a month with Tina.

Sometimes, Tina was magnanimous enough to invite Nat and Farah.

They both always showed up when they could.

That late afternoon, they had flitted through several topics of conversation. Experience had taught Iris how to keep up with Tina's boisterousness. But for the most part, she had followed along with an indulgent smile until they'd dived into the topic of childhood favorite books. It was a pick-up from a previous conversation. It had gone from Tina enthusiastically chattering, "I definitely was a Stacey growing up; I bet you were a little bit of a Mary Ann!" to Iris admitting she had never read the Babysitters Club series (to Tina's mild shock though forgiving understanding). And then Farah declaring that she had never participated in a sleepover (to Tina's horror).

Iris'd decided it was best to not confess to her own lack of experience -- she didn't want to be the first person responsible for making the resilient Tina Ponome wither away in surprise -- but the conversation had stuck with her throughout the day.

No, it hadn't been precisely the conversation but Farah's reaction: The resigned disappointment hidden behind a determined smile. It had prickled under Iris' skin with burning familiarity. She had known Farah had made friends and acquaintances outside of Unit Bravo. It seemed strange that no one had ever invited the young vampire over to spend the night or to go on a girl's trip.

 (She ignored the little voice that reminded her that - outside the occasional stayover at the warehouse - even as an adult, no one had ever invited her to do such things either.)

 Farah's 'smile' had remained under Iris' skin -- unwilling to leave her alone. After the conversation, she found herself looking up the general term to satiate her curiosity. From looking up the word, she found herself looking into decorations (from what children enjoyed to what adults did during girls' nights), and from there, she ended up watching films. It became a full-blown research affair that would've made Nat proud.

In fact, it <i>had</i>. And the tight, hesitant, wary knot that had tried to dissuade Iris from going through with this idea unsnarled under the warmth of Nat's gaze. Nat had been absolutely delighted when Iris handed her an invitation. She shared her excitement over doing this for Farah. Nat's approval, the prospect of Farah's happiness, and her determination buoyed her to also hand Morgan an invitation.

 Morgan had declined as Iris had expected. However, she hadn't expected Morgan to offer to go on a "beer, and other shit, run". 

"It's nice," She had scoffed underneath the surprise Iris hadn't managed to mask. "You wouldn't catch me dead with a giggling, drunk Tina trying to do my hair, but --" Though the rest of the words were bit out, a small smile curled up a corner of her thin lips. "I'll help. Only if you really need it," She added hurriedly beneath the wobbly beam of Iris' smile, "don't go wasting my time for anything less."

"I won't," Iris promised.

"Good," Morgan stated sharply, placing an empty cigarette in her mouth before she turned briskly and walked away. But there was a look in her grey eyes when she shot Iris, a last lingering look that almost made the usually self-restrained detective bounce giddily on her heels. Almost.

Something almost friendly, something that almost caused the dryness that always clogged Iris' throat when she was near Morgan to vanish. 

Though her interaction with the intimidating vampire had turned out fruitful, Iris had little hope for her interaction with Ava. However, it became a non-issue. Before Iris could set the infuriating team leader with an invitation, the Agency had requested a meeting between Commanding Agents and their second-in-command. Meaning Nat ended up having to cancel.

In a continuation of the bad luck, a joint case based in The City ended up pulling away New Detective Tina Ponome at the very last minute. It left Iris little time to reschedule. But decided to be flexible about it -- these cancellations only opened up the door for doing this again in the future. 

A nebulous plan that Iris was sure would go over well with Tina and Nat. (Morgan was another story ... The offer to be their deliverywoman might've been a one-time thing. But that was fine!) 

Iris had mentally filed that away. She shifted her focus on tying any loose end for a group girl's night that had become a sleepover for two. There hadn't been much left to do except ensure that Farah stayed away from the selected sleepover room until -- well, the hours for sleep. That would've been the hardest part if not for the timely visit of the mailperson. 

A purse filled with coupons and Farah in hand, Iris dragged her friend for her first visit to the Wayhaven Mall. A day of shopping and splitting each other up until they came apart at the seams was a great way to pregame for the evening. 

As the time neared, they stopped for ice cream before heading to the warehouse.

And that was how Iris ended up with her arms full with a wiggly vampire. Foresight and knowing Farah well (hopeful for her positive reaction) allowed her to take the bags containing their cold treats and place them somewhere safe. After another hug and a session of bouncing gleefully in place, Iris pulled away, "Come on." She encouraged with a bright smile that stretched for miles, "Let's get changed. I want to reheat the brownies before our ice cream melts." 

"Be back in my jammies in a jiff!" Farah winked as she zoomed into her room. The precision of the vampire's speeding hit more like a pleasant breeze.

Farah made good on her promise, and Iris is just pulling the blood from the microwave -- warmed exactly to her friend's preference -- when a slight gust of wind is her only warning before the other woman speaks, "But you're not even dressed yet!" 

Iris doesn't have to turn around to see the smaII pout or the impatient bouncing on heels. She bit back a giggle as she looked over her shoulder, "This blood isn't going to warm itself."

"And I can't have this sleepover by myself!" Farah expertly volleys back in response to her pert response.

"I was going to change as soon as I finish adding the marshmallows that --"

Farah's golden eyes took up her entire face in surprise. They were wide and bright and pulled Iris in like a ship to a lighthouse. Iris hadn't stopped feeling warm since her friend had seen everything she, Nat, and Tina had set up for her. She wasn't just proud of how well they set up but also couldn't stop the delight that echoed what burst across Farah's features.

Her fingers itched to grab her phone to take a picture. She knew Tina and Nat were regretting being unable to make it tonight, and they deserved to bask in Farah's joy as much as she did. Besides, Iris wanted to immortalize this moment, as well. It earned a special place in her apartment among the slowly growing gallery of memories.

"Are those the special, limited edition rainbow 'mallows??" Farah burst out. Iris didn't mind the interruption at all; she nodded earnestly. She handed the bag into Farah's hands. This time, Iris couldn't suppress her amused snort.

"How! They were sold out at Wayhaven Mart. I couldn't even find them in The City. I checked in almost ALL the online weekly circulars!"

"Let's just say now, I know better than to bet against Nat when it comes to finding rare things and shopping," Iris stated as she poured some of the blood into Farah's favorite large mug. Typically, it was straight from the bag, but Farah occasionally enjoyed her marshmallows floating in warm blood. (A strange tendency that Iris had quickly learned to make peace with.) This occasion merited a special treat; she had even gotten the young vampire a new twisty, purple straw for it as well.

Farah let out an impressive squawk. 

Iris placed the mug down and washed her hands at the sink. Marshmallows and blood were somewhat forgotten as the taller woman trailed after her, "Nat got these? Natalie Sewell? Nat Sewell brought Miss Maples' Monstrous Marshmallows? Did she know it's dyed <;i>with food coloring&lt;/i>??!!? Nat thinks food coloring is --'' Farah freezes as a thought almost bowls her over, "How did Nat even find these? Did Nat use the Internet? Iris?? Iris, where are you going! I --"

"I thought you told me to get dressed!" She called over her shoulder as she made her "escape" (Iris was sure if she looked behind her, she would find the bamboozled vampire still holding onto the bag of sweets); her teasing laughter filled the corridor. 

Her joy, at this moment, was bigger than her body. It was almost bigger than this space.

ris was no super-speeding vampire; however, it wasn't very long before the two of them were enjoying the set up. Iris had Farah choose the movies and Farah choose the games. After all, this night was for her friend. And though Iris was in the same boat of sleepover-less past, her true enjoyment came from knowing that she had done right with all of her choices. Her true enjoyment came from the very fact that she had a friend and she was helping said friend heal parts of her that needed healing. Iris liked being needed and it helped fill a gaping hole in her own chest when she succeeded in taking care of those she loved. She didn't want them to have any doubts that she appreciated them in her day-to-day. (Iris didn't want to give them any reason to unfit her from their lives.)

Of course, it wasn't easy to pull "whatever you want to do" with Farah.

"I could do that on my own anytime!" She protested. Farah's earlier words echoed in Iris' mind: <i> "And I can't have this sleepover by myself!"</i>

Iris put her hands up and smiled slightly, "All right. All right, you're right! How about this? You pick a movie now and we'll eat a snack that I want. Then I pick the movie and then we play a game you like after?"

"Deal!"

Things didn't exactly go to plan, but for the most part they kept their compromise. By their third film, Iris ended up sitting between Farah's legs as the other woman gently brushed her mass of curls from her face, "I didn't know you were so good at doing hair! I don't think I've ever gotten my hair to compromise." Iris tentatively touched the soft strands that Farah had managed to get to lie (mostly) flat against her scalp.

"How else do you think I look so fire fly everyday?"

Iris flushed slightly. That was a good point. "Agency beautician?" She was grateful that Farah briefly let go of her hair before she jerked back and began cracking up.

She was still giggling when she started braiding Iris' hair again. Iris didn't have much opportunity to stay settled in her embarrassment as she found herself giggling in return.

--

Later in the night (well into the next day; the birds were already chirping outside though it was still dark), after they had stuffed themselves and watched every film on the roster - and some shows to boot - Iris found herself drooping to sleep. Her body curled so forward that it was a surprise that she didn't topple the comfortably recling Farah off her lap. But maybe because of that she managed to hear the gentle whisper, "I had so much fun." A tiny, answering, smile tiredly stretched across Iris' lips. Even if Farah hadn't said as much - and she had several times - she had shown it. And that was enough for Iris. "Thank you for sharing tonight with me."

Something sharped pricked at the back of Iris' eyes and her eyelids fluttered open. Her breathing hitched slightly and she corrected herself: No. This – this was enough for her. Getting to have this moment with one of her best friends.

"Thank you for sharing tonight with <i>me</i>."

Farah's smile was soft as she looked up and tucks a stray curl behind Iris' ear, "Anytime, bestie. Anytime."

[nelkenbabe]

Wayhaven WIP:

While hanging out in the living room, Nate once again encourages the Detective to put more effort into the improvement of her and Rebecca’s relationship. Unfortunately, he has to learn that goodwill is not all it takes. Set sometime during Book 2

"It's fine," Erin said casually, but with an undercurrent of finality.

Nate peered at her, slightly discomforted by the way she closed off ever so slowly. The silence didn't feel as amiable as before. Concerned that his words hadn’t been taken as intended, he decided to venture forth once more. Perhaps his tone hadn’t been well-meaning enough.

"I hope you two will continue to improve your relationship. I know the distance may seem insurmountable at times, but your mother loves you very much."

The reaction was so instantaneous that Nate almost flinched. Erin tensed under his arm, her blood pressure spiked, and a distinct scent of stress suddenly wafted off the detective. It took a moment to taste it on his tongue and identify not only anger, but fear, and in that moment Erin had already pushed herself off the couch. 

For two long seconds she simply stood there facing him, facial muscles frozen, her chest expanding and deflating at a rapid pace. Her lips opened, something on the verge of falling out, something crucial. Then she pressed them back together.

"I better get going," Erin finally said in a tone that was all-too-reminiscent of Adam, and Nate’s face fell.

Because with Adam, his clipped responses never meant the end of anything but the conversation. Regardless of how often they would disagree on something, his and Nate’s friendship remained untouched. There was a security there that he had thought he had with the detective as well, until now. And the sense of her potentially slipping through his fingers had a slick fear gliding through his belly, constricted his throat.

He rose from the couch slowly, smoothly, while Erin darted over to the table to grab her bag. She had trouble expressing her feelings, she’d told him so. But now she didn’t seem to trust him enough to meet his eye, and this hurt most of all.

“Erin,” he called out softly once her fingers clenched around the deep red strap of her leather satchel.

He could hear the way her heart skipped a beat, indicating that she’d heard him. She turned in a tightly controlled whirl, a strained smile on her lips that reminded him of Rebecca.

Talk to me. Tell me what I’ve done wrong.

“It was nice,” Erin said, voice softer than the stiffness in her stance would suggest. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Nate. I’ll see you soon.”

And then, with a deep inhale that she would not release, Erin started towards the door to leave the living room, pulling the mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans. 

I can tell you of the love you will share. Of a love so strong it may survive eternities. Of comfort. Of passion. Of truth.

Nate finally started to feel his limbs again. He couldn’t let her walk out on this note. Couldn’t bear to spend a day or more apart wondering if he’d irreversibly broken what they’d been building. If she would ever look at him with precious candidness again.

Just as Erin had exited the living room, he heard her exhale and sped after her.

“Erin, wait!” 

Look at me. 

She turned, the expression in her eyes weary and knuckles pale where her hand clenched over her phone. But she did return his gaze.

“I-” Nate’s mouth grew dry before he composed himself. “I didn’t mean to overstep. Your relationship with Rebecca is yours alone. As someone who cares for both of you, I simply meant to offer some support. Forgive me. I didn’t know this was such a sensitive topic for you.”

To his absolute relief, the air around the detective immediately lost some of its acidic tasting static. Her shoulders dropped immediately, her head tilted back, and her breath and pulse both slowed. She gave a short nod. Averted her eyes. Hesitated. Focused her gaze back on him.

“I don’t like talking to you guys about Rebecca,” Erin said, speaking in a slow and measured manner. 

Nate had noticed this way of speaking a few times now, and suspected she adopted it when she wanted to express herself with the utmost accuracy. 

This can be salvaged.

With renewed hope, Nate stepped closer, a warm, careful smile playing about his lips.

“May I ask why?” he asked, low, so the rest of Unit Bravo wouldn’t overhear too much.

It took Erin a while to reply. She simply looked at him, the same as she had after jumping off the couch, as if she were measuring how well he’d take her thoughts. Previously, he must have left her wanting. This time, he hoped she would reconsider.

“Because,” she began, “I feel like you guys think my issues with Rebecca just come from her lying about her job, and that’s not true. I don’t wanna put myself on a pedestal, but I think I handled myself well enough when I found out about the supernatural world.”

Nate choked his instinct to jump in and validate, lest the interruption cause Erin to break off. And sure enough, the more she talked, the more the tension in her jaw eased.

“My issue is that after I learned about everything, she told me we’d work on our relationship. No more lies or secrets, as long as it wasn’t something classified or whatever. But everything else I learn about supernaturals, or the Agency, I still learn by complete accident while everything is already going down the drain, and only cause I remember to ask questions. And even then I am sometimes blown off, like how nobody wanted to tell me what Trappers are.”

A pang of guilt hit Nate squarely in the chest when he remembered Adam’s dismissal of her question. He hadn’t even registered it in the moment.

“And then,” Erin continued, picking up the pace, “I learn, basically in a subclause, that my father knew about all this and was also a human liaison for the Agency.”

Her gaze shot up and fixed him with heated intensity, as though willing him to understand the urgency of that revelation. 

“Two months,” she said, voice wavering. “Two months, I barely hear from her, or anyone. Cause you’re all busy, I know. But she couldn’t make time to meet me once and fill me in on things she kept from me as a kid? About our family? 

“Do you realize that you’ve probably had more conversations with her in the last ten years than I had with her between the ages of ten and twenty? I spent more time with neighbors that I’d go to after school than my mother, cause she was never home. I had to teach myself how to cook and forge her signature for report cards and other documents cause she was never home. At age 15 I was running around town until after midnight and got picked up by cops, cause all I had at home was silence. 

“And I was willing to leave all that behind us, cause now I know the reason and Rebecca said we’d work on it. I’m not just holding a petty grudge for the hell of it, Nate. Nothing’s changed. She’s made no effort to fill the blanks. All she’s done is tell me she doesn’t want me to die. And she does this when all of Unit Bravo is around, too, where I have to choose between pretending everything is fine, or having you guys think I’m being a bitch for no reason. I’m sorry. But I think I deserve better.” 

Erin took a deep breath. 

“And I didn’t wanna talk about it because I know you guys love her. I didn’t want to put you in this spot where you could feel like you have to pick a side.”

Something in Nate melted, and before he could stop himself he closed the rest of the distance between them. The fingers of his right hand laced in hers, and he gingerly lifted his left to touch her cheek. She leaned into it as if almost by instinct, and he had to remind himself to breathe. 

She still felt safe around him. That was all he could ever need.

“It’s kind of you to worry about us,” he said gently, and watched the frown on Erin’s face smoothe over. Grimness gave way to grief. “I didn’t realize the situation was so complicated. And I’m sorry all of us weren’t diligent about keeping you in the loop. Believe me, I wanted to. Very much so, in fact.”

A soft, tired laugh escaped Erin that caused a tug in Nate’s chest. But she tipped her head forward and rested it against him.

“Yeah,” it came muffled from somewhere below Nate’s chin, “would have been nice to not feel like I was dropped off the face of the earth right after being mauled by a vampire.”

Nate frowned.

“That was not the intention. R-”

Erin’s head snapped back up.  A chill wound down Nate’s spine when he realized the mistake he had just committed.

“Rebecca said what?” Erin asked sharply. 

A little part of Nate had to almost laugh at how quickly she had pieced his choked off sentence together. And he might have. If he didn’t have the distinct feeling that he had just put himself in the exact situation that Erin had not-so-tactfully tried to avoid in the first place.

“Ah… she said… it would be best to give you space to heal after everything that happened,” he admitted after a few seconds. “To adjust.”

Anger flashed over her face, just for the briefest of seconds. Then she let go of Nate’s hand to raise both of hers to palm her face. A mix between a scoff and a bitter laugh came muffled through her fingers before she inhaled deeply and dropped her hands again.

“Do me a favor, please, going forward,” she said with a slightly ironic undertone, “and don’t ever assume that Rebecca knows what’s best for me.” 

“Done,” Nate replied.

“She really thought that after everything, I wanted radio silence from you guys?” Incredulousness was poured into every word. “The only people who could understand what-... what happened that night? The absolutely insane few weeks I’ve had? All of it, and I was alone afterwards. Without so much as a phone call from Farah. I thought you guys were busy with cleaning up the mess so I didn’t want to be a nuisance. But the longer I didn’t hear anything, the more I thought you had changed your minds about wanting to work with me, cause I was human and too squishy or something. Rebecca has no idea who I am or what I want. What I wanted was to see you.” 

Erin paused, holding her breath again for a long moment. Then she added, voice small and just barely above a whisper: “I-... I wanted to see you, Nate.”

[nat-seal-well]

Title: helping hand

Pairing: Ava du Mortain/Nat Sewell

Rating: G

Words: 2,651

The touch keeps her there, frozen in place in this room—surrounded by items collected over decades, all carrying the same lingering traces of flowers, of tea, of the tanning of leather-bound books—and she does as she has always done, whenever it comes to Natalie Sewell. She acquiesces. Just as there is not another person who will ever understand her pain, the only one who could ever have her so quick to relent is the woman whose pianist fingers are curled around the joint of her wrist.

“I only wanted to ask for your help,” Nat continues.

Ava’s answer comes as easily as they always do, whenever Nat is the one asking. “I would do anything you asked of me.”

She means it with all of herself.

[wayhavensecretsanta]

Wayhaven Fic Exchange

Hi TWC fanfic writers!

I’m excited to announce this Wayhaven gift exchange!

Now that Book 3 has been released for a while and we’ve had a change to read it and let everything sink in (and read it again), this seemed like a great time to do a fic exchange.

The idea of this exchange is that you will get assigned to another participant, your “giftee”. You will then write a fic featuring that person’s detective*, and someone else will write a fic for you, about your detective. This can be a sweet, romantic fic about the detective and their LI, but it can also be about found family feels with UB, or you could go in a more angsty direction. Whatever you think will make a great gift for the other person!

At the end of the exchange, all participants will share their gifts with their giftee and on here, so everyone will be able to see what has been created for this event ^^

When?

Deadline signing up: 9 July

Everyone will receive a message with the information of their giftee before 14 July 

Deadline for turning in fic: Monday 14 August (09:00 CEST) This corresponds to 17:00 AEST; 01:00 CST

Gifting: 20 - 27 August 

Since the gift is meant to be a surprise, the gifter will only reveal themself to the giftee when sharing their fic.

The minimum word count is 800 words.

If you want to sign up, send me a message! You will get a link to a sign-up sheet on which you can give some basic info about your OC(s) and their worldstate.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Looking forward to hearing from you and to reading the no doubt wonderful fics that will be written <3

For more information, see the pinned post.

*Other TWC OCs are also very welcome!

[itsmistyeyedbi]

pulse

Pairing: F!Detective/Farah Hauville

Word Count: 1,7k

Tag: @happyhauvillebday

Prompt: Fangs (it's late, I know)

Warnings: This is just smut lol. Very nsft, so minors dni!

Summary: Farah has a lot to give and gets a little too caught up in how much Zuri enjoys that.

Farah always finds herself a little stunned when she has Zuri like this. It doesn't matter how often she does - and it's pretty often if she does say so herself. The sight of her underneath her is and always will be beautiful.

Zuri’s headwrap has come undone, her hair covering her pillow like clouds do the sky. She's a writhing, moaning mess against the sheets, dark brown skin glistening with sweat, chest heaving with every breath. She can feel her fingers digging into her back, the hand around her bicep tightening its grip as her hips follow the steady pace of Farah’s fingers.

She watches all of it the way she asked her to, even though she didn't need to. She didn't want to look at anything or anyone but her. She looked for her when she wasn't around and couldn't tear her eyes off her when she was. And she definitely isn't going to miss a second of this. Not when she's teetering on the edge again, trembling and barely coherent.

Farah leans down until her forehead almost touches hers, biting her lip as her bare chest brushes against her and her breath fans her face. “You're so beautiful like this.”

Zuri’s heart skips a beat before continuing its loud and frantic pace. Her lips curl into a small smile, eyes shifting away before meeting hers again, pupils blown. She still gets shy when she says that.

“Do you wanna come for me now?”

She clenches around her fingers with a whine and a nod. The reaction sends a shiver of heat down her spine and coaxes a moan out of her. She loves the way her body responds to her, how desperate she gets when she's close, how much she wants her and everything she wants to give her. It feels so real, the most real thing she's ever had with someone. It makes her want to give her the world, or something more than that. Something as meaningful as they are.

So she kisses her like she can. Like she will. Like everything inside her can be shared in a kiss, hungry and heated, intense. She sucks on her bottom lip and swallows her moans, rolling her tongue against hers and groaning at the lingering taste of herself in her mouth. Something about it makes her heart stutter and make the air around them feel like a cool touch against her skin.

She pulls away to look at her face as she speeds up her motions, the pad of her thumb gently rubbing against her clit. A long moan leaves Zuri’s lips, held tight in her throat as her hips grind into her hand, her body wound up tight as she chases the feeling. Farah doesn't know where to look now. She doesn't think she's even breathing. Her mind is foggy, jaw slack as she takes her in, enthralled.

She's… everywhere. Soft skin and flexing muscles, shaking legs on either side of her, heels pressing into her back, so fucking wet on her fingers. The slick sound of her mingling with panting, with her broken moans and half spoken words (she could listen to her forever, her voice is one of her favourite songs). With the pounding of her heart. The air is tinged with the scent of her, of sweat and citrus perfume, of ecstasy and the faint, sweet scent of her blood….

She needs to taste her, needs to have her mouth on her. But she doesn't want to risk muffling the sounds she making. Farah looks at her face, her furrowed brows and parted lips, and the sight stirs something inside her. She can't. She needs-

She bends down and presses her face against her neck. She can see her pulse fluttering underneath her skin, the blood running through her veins a constant thrum that sings out to her. Her nose follows the curve of it as she inhales her scent. It's sweet and sends every part of her into a flurry, just like Zuri does.

Farah's thumb is firmer now, drawing tight circles against her clit. Her voice rasps as she speaks. A voice in the back of her head tells her that that's out of character for her, but it's drowned out by the woman in front of her and how badly she wants to make her come.

“Come on, babe, come for me,” she drags her lips along her skin and that thrumming. “I've got you, you know I do. Show me how much you like what I do to you.”

“Oh God, I- fuck, Farah-”

The words are quiet, rushed and stammered out before they're lost in the cries she let's out. Her hips buck into her hand, her body arches against hers, her head tilts back and she's baring her throat for her. Farah lets out a shaky breath before running her tongue along that pulse, shuddering at the feel of it and moaning. It's so much. She's everywhere and she still can't get enough of her. She doesn't think she's wanted to be this close to someone - so close that she wants her inside her, to feel her run through her veins.

It takes a couple moments for her brain to catch up to that thought. A moment where raspy giggles leave Zuri's lips while her body twitches from aftershocks. A moment where she sinks into the bed with a sigh. A moment where her face stays buried in her neck. A moment where her fangs graze it, and they both pause. And the little voice in the back of her neck isn't so little anymore, it's screaming.

Holy shit. She just- shit.

She didn't mean to do that. She's never done that. Why didn't she notice sooner!?

Farah lurches backwards to look at Zuri’s face. She's still catching her breath, still looks sluggish. She isn't panicking but she isn't as relaxed and content as she usually is after sex. Zuri looks up at her with slightly widened eyes and a raised brow that would be subtle to anyone but her.

Okay, she's not scared or freaked out. That's good. But she's confused and probably wants some kind of explanation for that. Farah just…doesn't know what to say. She can't even explain it to herself right now.

“Is it just me, or was this a lot more… intense than usual?” She laughs nervously.

There's one or two agonising seconds of silence before she responds. “Yeah. Yeah it was.”

She can hear that tone in her voice, the one she uses when she knows something and she wants you to know that she does. Only she can make it both annoying and endearing. It's not that Farah doesn't want her to know, she just can't find the words for what just happened.

“I'm sorry, I don't know-” she sighs and shakes her head. “I mean, I noticed what was happening but… I also, didn't? I always feel so much with you, I guess it makes it me take longer to notice when it feels…different.”

Zuri does something Farah doesn't expect. She smiles. Her heart skips a beat and her lips slowly curl into a lopsided smile that eases the tension. “It's okay, don't worry about it. Also, I kinda like the sound of that.”

They laugh softly before falling quiet. Zuri’s eyes fall down to her mouth and Farah swipes her tongue across her bottom lip, then across her teeth. Her fangs are still out.

Zuri reaches up to cup her face, stroking her cheek with her thumb and pressing it against the corner of her mouth, the spot her fang is hiding behind. “I don't think those were there before,” she murmurs.

“They weren't, you just happen to bring them out of me,” she grins, then it slowly melts off her face. She watches for any changes in her facial expressions and body, any signs of fear. And still, nothing. Her heartbeat is steady. But she has to be sure. “You know I'd never hurt you, right?”

“I know, I trust you,” she answers without hesitation and it makes her giddy.

She trusts her. That's what she was hoping to hear, and she hopes she can keep that trust. She won't do anything that would ever make her question it.

Farah smiles, turning her head to kiss her thumb before shifting to lay down next to her. She wraps her arms around her, legs tangling with each others, giggling as she gently rubs the tip of her nose against hers before settling under the covers. They talk in whispers until Zuri’s eyes start to droop and her words come out slower. She looks like she's seconds away from sleep as she nuzzles into the crook of her neck, but she manages to murmur out a question.

“Did you want to?”

“Did I want to what?”

“Bite me?” Zuri shifts a bit, her eyelashes tickling Farah's skin with every slow blink. “Would you? If I asked you to?”

Farah pauses, using a hand to push back her hair enough to see more of her, even though it's useless when her face is still hidden in her neck.

She remembers some of the vampires in the Echo World and how intimate drinking from someone was, despite how normal it was for supernaturals to drink blood. It was something only lovers ever did. Not just lovers, soulmates. People who chose to be with each other for eternity. It was so rare that she never even considered it and when she got to this world, well. Most people didn't know vampires existed. Those who did were afraid of them.

But now she has that. She has someone who chose her, someone amazing and beautiful and smart who has never been afraid of her. Even though she has more reason to be than anyone she's met. Zuri’s been through so much with supernaturals and a vampire is responsible for that. Proof of that is still rushing through her, that thrumming still tugging at her thoughts for attention. She doesn't know if it would be as simple as two vampires in the Echo World who are madly in love with each other.

But would she? If she asked her to? Would she say no?

That's not even a question. Not really. Farah knows she could never say no to Zuri. She wouldn't want to. And if she would trust her that much, she'd want to show her that she was right to.

Farah strokes Zuri’s back absentmindedly and kisses the top of her head, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally answers, “I would do anything you asked, babe. Just say the word.”

[thewayhavenchronicle]

26 for Saoirse and Mason ❤️

Romantic Confession Dialogue Prompts

thIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

26. "please...say something."

The Trapper realizes he's fucked up approximately half a second before anyone else does.

The fight is going normally enough, at first -- typical seven or eight Trappers against Unit Bravo. There hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, really. Saoirse is having a lot of fun with her Volt baton, dancing around the Trappers, watching them get more and more agitated the more they fail to down her. She's just caught Mason's eye from across the clearing, admiring the way his steel grey eyes look alight with the rush of the hunt, when everything goes to hell.

The Trapper he's fighting reaches for him blindly, scrambling for purchase to try and keep himself upright, and finding it in the one thing that he shouldn't have.

The cord holding Mason's crystal strains for one breathtaking moment...

...and then it snaps.

Saoirse can hear the sound of the break from the other side of the clearing.

The Trapper falls backwards with a muted thud, and the crystal goes flying somewhere into the underbrush.

For a moment, Mason almost seems fine. He stands there, frowning down at the man for a heartbeat -- and then one of the others catches him in the back with one of their stun batons and he crumbles.

"Mason!"

The wave of pain hits her a beat later, that same sharp, buzzing feeling at the base of her skull that she's felt around him before, but it seems to be nothing compared to what it does to everyone else. The Trappers around the clearing collapse to the ground in crumpled heaps. The scent of blood fills the air, strong enough that even her dulled almost-human senses can smell it. The vampires around the clearing are doubled over much like Mason is, but they aren't the ones screaming.

She's never heard screaming quite like this.

It is raw and guttural. Animalistic. Mason stumbles in the direction his crystal had gone, but he only makes it about a step before he collapses, wailing and clawing at his head. There's a desperation to it, clawing at his skin as if it were crawling with insects as a ragged sob punches its way out of his chest.

Saoirse doesn't think -- she just moves.

"Mason, Mason," she gasps, falling to her knees in front of him and wrapping her arms around him. He struggles, but she can tell a part of him is aware of who she is and where he is, because he doesn't struggle hard. He could easily break her hold and shove her away, but he doesn't, squeezing his eyes shut and coughing as tears drip down his cheeks, mingling with the blood where he'd dug his nails into his face.

"I've got you, I've got you," she mumbles, rocking him slightly in an attempt to soothe. "You're gonna be okay, my love, just breathe. Breathe. You're alright."

Something about her touch seems to be soothing him, somehow. His body is still as tense as a viper ready to strike, breathing still ragged as he coughs out a few more rough sobs -- but he presses closer instead of struggling. Buries his face in her shoulder and drags in ragged breaths like he's trying to drown everything else with the smell of her skin, with the feeling of her pressed against him.

What happens after that is a bit of a blur. Someone finds his crystal and brings it to them. Someone else tries to pull him away from her -- and he snarls, tense and out-of-sorts, so they leave them be.

When the Agency arrives, something... happens.

She doesn't know what it is that happens. Mason's breathing has slowed by then, leaning heavily on her as he tries to center himself, one hand clutching his crystal in his lap. She hasn't been paying attention to the cleanup of the Trappers -- doesn't know if they're even alive or not -- too busy focusing on holding her love to notice until it's too late.

Apparently, there is a protocol for Mason.

One that none of them are aware of until a nameless Agent has jabbed a needle into Mason's neck and injected him with a full dose of DMB.

"What the fuck--" Mason spits, trying to lunge for the agent, but the effect of the shot to the jugular is too quick and he collapses, eyes rolling back into his head.

Saoirse will be honest: she doesn't remember grabbing her stun baton. She doesn't remember lashing out at the nearest suit-clad Agent. She doesn't remember needing to be sedated herself. Apparently, they'd needed five men to finally take her down.

Not that she really cares about that either way.

It's been hours, and Mason still hasn't woken up.

Rebecca had come to try and talk to her once they got to the Warehouse. Saoirse hadn't given a fuck what she had to say, or what the explanation was for what happened. Miscommunication, she said. It was a miscommunication. They thought he was out of control.

Saoirse doesn't care.

Everything she cares about is laying in a hospital bed, still as death, covered in bandages, not healing because the fucking DMB is still in his system.

Saoirse shifts anxiously in her seat by his bed, leaning forward to rest her arms on the bed. His hand lays still on top of the crisp linen, and she sighs as she slides her hand under his just to feel the warmth of his beating heart. Sighing softly, she bends to press her lips to the back of his hand.

"Mm..."

A gasp leaves her as she sits up, eyes on his face. Mason's brows furrow as he takes a deep, slow breath in. His eyelids flutter, and then he blinks a few times -- and she can see the moment he registers where he is as his eyes snap open wide, and his entire body tenses.

"Hey, hey," she murmurs, squeezing at his hand to draw his attention. Wide, frenzied grey eyes swing around to her face, and she smiles weakly, lifting his hand to press another kiss to his knuckles. "You're okay."

She can see him fighting to piece together what happened, eyes fixed on her face, darting across her features like he's looking for the explanation somewhere in the lines of her face. A few moments pass, and he exhales heavily, slumping as his brows furrow.

"...Sweetheart?"

"I'm here." Saoirse tries her best to smile normally for him, but he must be able to tell something's wrong.

She watches him swallow thickly, licking his dry lips and clearly mulling over what to say. She watches a thousand different thoughts run through his head, but she truly doesn't have an explanation for what happened tonight, and it's not like she's been quiet about her distrust of the Agency before all this happened. Now? Well...

After a long moment, he snorts, turning away and rubbing at his face with his free hand. "Fuck me."

"Maybe later," she jokes, and she grins when it makes him laugh breathily.

He sighs, dropping his hand back to his side heavily. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he stares off at the wall. She can tell he's trying to figure out what to say, but she doesn't really know what to say, and neither does he, it seems.

His lips twitch, eyes softening at whatever thought has crossed his mind.

Saoirse smiles, squeezing his hand again. "What?"

Mason rolls his neck so that he can smirk at her, though his eyes remain soft. "My love, huh?"

She blinks.

Oh.

Oh, she fucked up.

She's quiet for a beat too long, trying to decide between acknowledging that she did, indeed, say that and trying to convince him he imagined it. She can't tell if he's upset about it, but he looks...

"Speechless already, sweetheart?" he jokes, squeezing her hand. His brows pinch a little with worry. "Maybe I misheard. Lot was going on when you said... whatever you said."

There is a level of fear rising in her chest that paralyzes her. They haven't talked about this -- they haven't talked about anything. This certainly isn't the ideal scenario to be talking about feelings and the state of their relationship. She--

Mason laughs, though it kind of sounds like a cough. His eyes are a little worried now as he says, "Say something... Anything?" He laughs a little. "Please?"

...fuck it.

Saoirse grins, leaning forward on the bed and propping her head up on her hand. "You don't like 'my love'? You didn't like sunshine either. What about baby? Darling? My moon and stars?"

He rolls his eyes, but his smile speaks more of relief than anything. Not ready for that any more than she is, she supposes. She's about to change the subject when he sighs and half shrugs one shoulder.

"...baby isn't so bad. Just... not in front of anyone."

Saoirse laughs and the tension between them breaks. "I'll call you whatever you like as soon as you're better, how's that?"

He smirks. "Sure. I'll hold you to that."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

[lykegenia]

Come Night, Come Morning

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Characters: Mason x Olivia Greene

Rating: T (can anything with Mason be less than T?)

Warnings: None

My contribution to @wayhavenficexchange for @ejunkiet - just a little bit of fluff set after the main events of Book 3 but before th MC goes back to their apartment. I hope you like it!

Now with AO3 link!

--

He remembers when he didn’t stay. And more, before that, he remembers when he didn’t care at all, when Wayhaven was just another mission – another too-loud, too-bright spot on a map, ripe with humanity, to be endured and then escaped like one of the tactical seminars Adam always insists they attend. Looking back at those first days, it’s hard to see the slow, inching change in him, the pull in his chest that led him to the sanctuary of having Olivia sleeping at his side. Her heartbeat is steady, her breath a roll of slow, even waves that ruffle his hair where it lies against his collarbone.

He doesn’t mind the sensation. In fact, he’s lulled by the reassurance of the motion, the measured swell of her ribcage with every inhale. She’s alive. Defiant but impossibly outnumbered, the image of her on the auction house stage is something he can’t get out of his head, and with it lingers the rage that welled within him, white hot and sharp as teeth, at the sight of all those covetous bastards in the room shouting over each other for her blood.

Birds are singing outside the window, the dawn chorus in full throat. So far out into the wilderness it’s deafening, and though he prefers it to the roar of car engines on the morning commute, the sheer vastness of the sound normally has him chaining cigarettes until the little fuckers decide they’ve had enough of screaming at each other for the day.

And he didn’t notice it.

Now he has, the tumble of song fills his ears, but not to the usual point of pain, and with the rhythm of Olivia’s pulse undercutting it, it’s even almost… tolerable. He can pick out threads in the tapestry to appreciate their melody. The realisation brings a frown to his features, and he turns further into her embrace, unsettled.

There’s been a growing awareness of the calming effect she has on his senses, but along with all the other changes in his moods – he ran out of cigarettes a week ago, he stayed to not disturb her sleep, and they didn’t even fuck first – this sudden burst of understanding reminds him too much of other things. In the past, his memory barriers have slipped, and every time the first early warning signs were always altered behaviour and senses blurring into confusion. This doesn’t feel exactly the same, but then there’s no other name for the tightness in his chest when he looks down at Olivia, either.

His movement has disturbed her. As she shifts, a moan rises from her throat and a fleeting smile touches his lips. Over the past few months he’s learned various ways to draw that sound from her, but this morning he has no interest in such exertion. He brushes his lips over her forehead instead.

“Sleep, sweetheart.” She’s had a rough few days, between the debrief over the auction and the slew of new training she’s been drafted into for her promotion to full agent. “I’ve got you.”

“What time is it?” she mumbles.

“Early.”

He turns slightly to better pick up the change in her heartrate, the barest quickening of her breath that he doubts anyone else would notice. That he does has ceased to be a surprise.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks, stroking a hand over her back.

There’s a small inhale, fingers twisting in the sheets. “You stayed again.”

At one time he didn’t – wouldn’t have considered it. He covers with a lazy smile.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“More like I’m scared I’ll get used to it,” she admits.

Inside his ribcage, his heart clenches at the loneliness laid bare in those words, so strong that for a moment instead of a reply all he can muster is a phantom yearning for tobacco.

“I might get used to it myself,” he replies, once the moment has passed.

She sits up, eyes him warily. For an instant, struck by the tangles her hair has gained in sleep, he’s tempted to pull her into his lap and see how much wilder he can make it, but while he shifts against the pillow he doesn’t act on the impulse, only waits for her to decide if they’re going to talk about this uncertain, dangerous thing between them.

She breaks his gaze. “What about when my apartment is fixed?”

He hasn’t been thinking about it. He lives in the moment, because in his experience moments are all you get.

“What about it?”

“Never mind.” A fleeting smile. “It’ll feel weird going back after spending so much time here.”

Silence falls between them as she turns towards the window, the dawn light plenty for his vampire eyes to pick out fine details as it catches against dark eyelashes and the tempting curve of her lips. Who says she has to go? He never has the inclination to stay and he doesn’t ask others to stay either, but he’s used to her, to the calming if unexplainable effect she has on his senses. Instead of letting the words slip unguarded off his tongue, however, he focuses back on his observations, on the tremor in her heart that tells him as much about her mood as her half-turned away expression.

“If there’s something you want to say, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

“Hm?” She blinks. “Oh, no – it’s nothing. Just thinking.”

Lie.

He smooths a hand down her spine, under her pyjama top, her skin no more than a tingle against his fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s time for that, sunshine,” she chides gently. “Not with everything Adam has planned for me today.”

“Pity. But I wasn’t thinking about that.”

One dark eyebrow lifts. “Who are you and what have you done with Mason?”

I can think of other things, you know.” He smirks. “It’s just more fun not to most of the time.”

With a fond sigh and a roll of her eyes, she wriggles towards the side of the bed, only halting when he brushes a hand over her wrist.

“We don’t have to get up yet.”

“You want to cuddle?”

He manages to make his shrug look casual. “If you want to call it that.”

There’s another moment of wary scrutiny, but his open arm is an invitation she chooses to accept, and he catches her smile as she snuggles down with him once again. As her weight settles against his chest, right where she should be, he allows the contentment to escape in a sigh. He remembers when he didn’t stay, and this is much better.