#31 Days of Wayhaven

[vryptidart]

urghh so tired today but i got a good like. first third or half of monstrous may day 1 written. and i know where it goes and ends i just need to get the words out but. sleepytired..

these events creep up on me, i need to remember i need like 2 weeks run-up to really get things out on time if i want to hit even a majority of a daily-prompt challenge month..

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 31/May/2024

A busy one this week! But it always feels good when it’s been busy but you can check so many things off your list. Especially seeing as it was a bank holiday I forgot about last Monday, so a shorter week! :D

After some amazingly encouraging comments on Patreon, I did decide to go back and put in the Unit Bravo POV for Chapter Two. Not only that, but I decided to make it individual love interest POVs, because I can’t help myself, hehe! But it was actually kind of perfect, because it gives a nice small glimpse into what the vampires get up to when the MC isn’t around and they aren’t working…well, unless it’s A, and then they’re pretty much always working anyway, lol!

After that, I started on the end scenes for Chapter Two, and let me tell you…they are some doozy scenes! Bringing out some angsty punch right from the start, hehe! But also finished with some rather lovely soft romantic moments which help to soothe that intensity… ;D

They were scenes I have been waiting agggges to write. It certainly sets up how things that are happening might come between the building romances!

I was a bit worried that adding in the extra POV scenes would push me back, but I really went for it this week, and I’m going to be finishing Chapter Two today as planned!!!

So next week that means I can start on the editing and rewriting. Next week will also be social media days, which I will be heading elsewhere to do because internet here is still intermittent at best, and I really want the asks to be more consistent again! 

Got some really fun stuff coming up on Patreon this month too, including the initial sketch idea for Mason/Morgan’s masquerade ball mask! Looking forward to working on all of that :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend and enjoy the demo—as well as get excited for what's to come after checking it out, hehe! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[delucadarlingwriting]

For the kisses ask! Barbie/Kira for 54, Meantán/Fi for 47, Fi/Emmrich for 31? Whichever tickles your fancy!

You spoil me <3

I had the best of intentions on doing all three, but I'll have to save the last one for another time.

Barbie/Kira for 54: sleepy kisses

The Wayhaven Chronicles, Book 3, In the SUV after the auction

All things considered, it wasn’t the worst night of Kira’s life. Sure, she was mind whammied in a cell for most of the night and Barbie was almost bled dry in front of an audience, but despite it all, she’s okay. Barbie’s okay.

She lets out a low, deep breath of relief and rubs at her throat, which Murphy had once nearly ripped out. There’s still some scarring there, but thankfully no one had pressed too hard for details when she said she’d rather not talk about it. Verda and Tina still throw her desperately worried looks from time to time, but it’s fine. It’ll be fine.

The SUV finally draws to a stop after what feels like an eternity. Ava meets Kira’s eye in the rearview mirror, before adjusting it to look more closely at Barbie. Barbie, whose head is resting on Kira’s shoulder, sound asleep. The height difference means she’s practically folded herself to manage it, but every time Kira had tried to rouse her Barbie had just limply smacked at her and grunted.

“I can get her inside,” Kira assures the commanding agent. Ava nods and kills the engine.

“Good work tonight,” she says, addressing the team as a whole. Farah pops up from the third row, grinning.

“Yeah, good job bashing the auctioneer over the head and dragging him straight over to us, Kiki,” Farah says. Kira’s cheeks flush up and she waves her off.

“Well, someone had to stop him,” she mutters. She’s not prone to violence usually, but she can’t lie and say she didn’t get any satisfaction out of knocking that awful man out. The number of people he hurt…Plus, he’d put his slimy hands all over Kira’s wife and that just won’t stand.

On Kira’s other side, Morgan chuckles. “Just wish I could’ve seen it.”

“I think you mean you wish you could have been there to help Kira?” Nate suggests from the front seat. Morgan blinks.

“No, I wanted to see Kira beat a guy up,” she says. Nate sighs.

Ava shakes her head, squeezes his thigh, and says, “Everyone is on a break for the next day at least. Let’s go get some rest.”

Nate melts, throwing her a loving look before moving to do just that. Morgan follows suit, Farah throwing herself over the back of the second row seats to follow her out. Ava gives Kira one more look before stepping out. Kira feels a burst of fondness for all of them. She loves this team.

With that though, Kira is left alone with Barbie in the dark cab of the SUV. She takes Barbie’s hand, toying with the stack of rings on her finger. They’d gotten married pretty quick after college. Probably too quick by most standards. Neither of their careers had really taken off at that point and they were broke as a joke. It had taken months for Kira to scrape together the funds to pay for the engagement ring. It’s probably the least flashy part of Barbie’s outfit, but she’d insisted on wearing it anyway.

Leaning up, Kira nuzzles against Barbie’s jaw. Again, she gets smacked and grunted at.

“Babs, come on, we’re home,” Kira says. Barbie rouses a bit then.

“Home?” she asks, rubbing at her eye and smearing already smeared makeup. She’s a complete mess now, after everything, but Kira still can’t help but find her stunning.

“Well, the warehouse,” Kira corrects. It’s not the house, but it’s a home of sorts. Both of them have grown more comfortable there over time. Barbie hums and tugs Kira closer to nuzzles against her neck. Her long eyelashes flutter against Kira’s skin and she squeaks, writhing. “Nooo, that tickles!”

Barbie gives a low chuckle at that. “Mm, but you’re so warm, my dove.”

“Let’s go be warm inside,” Kira insists, batting at Barbie until she relent. When she pulls back, she’s smiling down at Kira before turning to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“Not a bad idea. Ugh, I don’t want to shower,” Barbie whines, as she gets out of the car. Kira follows quickly, able to manuever better than Barbie can thanks to the Agency suit she’d put on. Poor Barbie had broken a heel at some point and is now walking around barefoot, except for the light covering of pantyhose.

“You’ll be really upset if we get in bed dirty,” Kira reminds her. Barbie loops their arms together as they head inside.

“I know,” she says. “So you’ll have to make it all up to me.”

Kira lets out a surprised laugh. “Me? What in the world did I do?”

“You didn’t wake me up with a kiss,” Barbie replies with a sniff. Kira bites down on a smile.

“Ah, of course.” She tugs them to a stop. “Then let me fix that now.”

It’s adorable how giddy Barbie gets about kisses, even now. She leans in slightly as Kira goes up on tiptoe to bring their mouths together. Barbie hums softly, sliding a hand behind Kira’s skull to cradle it. All the tension left in Kira melts away and she nearly sways when her heels hit the ground again.

“I really should have woken you up with a kiss,” Kira says. Barbie gives her a smug smile.

“Don’t forget this tomorrow morning,” she says. Then, looking up at a rapidly lightening sky, corrects herself with, “Or rather this morning.”

“Of course,” Kira says, snuggling up close.

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

Meantán/Fi for 47: tummy kisses

Dragon Age: Veilguard, The Lighthouse

“Good morning, my princess. How are you doing this morning?” Fi asks, kicking the door to their bedroom closed. From the bed, Meantán groans and throws an arm across her eyes, her long, red curls splayed out against the pillows like a flaming halo.

“Who can even tell what time it is here? There’s always light.” she grouses. Fi laughs, shaking their head. Their wavy brown hair tickles just below their chin now. What with the world going to absolute shit, there hasn’t been time for a haircut. With their free hand, they rub at their jaw; they could use a shave too.

Later though. For now, they have better things to focus on.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Fi leans over to press a kiss to Meantán’s forehead. She moves her arm just enough to peer at them over it.

“We don’t even have a window in here,” Fi reminds her. Then, looking over at the ocean of fish on the other side of the glass wall says, “Well, a window that looks into the actual Fade at least.”

“I can still tell,” Meantán says.

“So I take it you didn’t sleep then,” Fi says, worry fluttering through them. Meantán’s been having a rough time of it, more than most. She shrugs and cups their cheek in her hand.

“I rested enough.” Her gaze drops to their jacket, specifically their pocket. “What did you bring me?”

“Who says I have anything for you?” Fi grins when she pinches their cheek. “Alright, perhaps I did bring you something.”

“Where from?” Meantán asks. What with having nearly opposite sleep schedules, they tend to spend their time apart using Solas’ eluvian to explore the world.

“Rivain,” Fi replies. They pull out a large, round fruit from their pocket. “It’s a mango. We get them in Treviso sometimes. Have you had one before?”

“I’ve seen them,” Meantán says, sitting up with interest in her eyes. “I can’t say I’ve eaten one though.”

“Not surprising, for a dog lord. It’s pretty colorful after all,” Fi says, earning a smack to the arm that makes them laugh.

“Do I have to peel it myself?” Meantán asks, pouting slightly. Fi coos and rests a hand on her stomach. Though Meantán has reported feeling movement, Fi will have to wait a few weeks more for that.

“They’re a bit too juicy to do that here,” they admit. “I was coming to see if you’d join me for breakfast. Or I can cut it and bring it back in here.”

Meantán practically throws the blankets off herself. “Absolutely not, I’m sick of laying in bed.”

Fi laughs and watches as she slides off the mattress. She’s long and lean, and though she’s been disappointed by her lack of a baby bump, it’s certainly made moving around easier than it would be otherwise. Fi can’t help but be grateful it isn’t painting a huge target on her back. This isn’t exactly the best of times to be starting a family, but the moment they were both aware of it, they couldn’t turn back.

Life waits for no one and nothing. Not even megalomaniac elvhen gods.

Meatan give a long, luxurious stretch, her shirt (Fi’s shirt, they’d been wondering where it got to) riding up to expose her stomach. Without even thinking about it, Fi reaches out to pull her closer. She makes a curious noise, then smiles when she realizes what’s caught their attention.

“You didn’t say good morning,” she points out. Fi lets out a short huff.

“Good morning, little one,” they say. They hold the hem of the shirt up, then lean in to press a soft kiss to Meantán’s stomach. She giggles.

“Fi, you’re too fuzzy for that, it tickles,” she says, reaching down to rub at their jaw. They lean into the touch happily.

“Breakfast and a shave it is then,” they replies in a happy murmur. With a finger hooked under their chin, Meantán tilts their head back and leans down to catch their mouth in a slow, soft kiss.

“Breakfast, bed again, and then a shave,” she says. When they lift an eyebrow, she adds, “You were gone all night. I missed you.”

Fi shakes their head; she certainly missed part of them. Not that they aren’t delighted to oblige.

“Anything her highness wishes,” they reply, earning a fond eyeroll before Meantán tugs them to their feet and starts dragging them for the door.

[l-llavellans]

Not sure if you're taking asks, so no pressure to answer these, but if you want: 5, 6 and 31 from the character development asks for Liam? (But, if you feel like it, I'd also love to hear more about your Tina-mancing detective ^^)

hello seren!!! thank you for asking!!! ive been hashing some of these out in my liam doc this week but i love talking about this idiot so im glad you asked!! 🫶🫶

this got long and probably doesn’t make any sense so im gonna put it under the cut lol

5: On an average day, what can be found in your character's pockets?

normally liam’s pockets have pretty basic stuff in them: keys, wallet, phone, etc.

probably a little stash of peppermints or hard candy or something too to quell his sweet tooth but they never last long lol

he’s got some special things in his wallet though, like his 6 year sobriety key tag, a picture of him and tina, and one of rook’s old guitar picks!

i also like to think he’s got a little pair of earplugs thrown in there every so often when he knows he and mason will be together or out in public just in case he needs them ! (he’ll deny bringing them for mason and say he just so happened to have them…idiot)

6: Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

he’s a chronic insomniac on sleeping meds and if you’ve ever taken anything to help you sleep you know that shit gives you CRAZY dreams so i imagine there’s all kinds of weird stuff happening in his dreams 😅

before everything in the books started he was more likely to dream about being somewhere like in the woods he loves or lost in a crowd in the city or traveling - somewhere he feels free, because he feels very tied down to wayhaven and likes to imagine what it would feel like to be somewhere different where he didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know him. (he’s a walking contradiction like that - dreams about being unknown but is actually pretty lonely and hates being by himself)

he also dreams about rook a lot (both before and during the events of the books) but it’s more of a hazy, half baked twist on a real memory that leaves him with feelings and impressions instead of being able to actually recall the dream.

as the books go on though and he gets more and more eaten up with guilt about everything that’s going on, i imagine it’d start bleeding over into his dreams too. he still has nightmares about murphy sometimes, and he feels incredibly at fault for everything that’s happened to everyone (murphy’s victims, the other supernaturals taken by the trappers in book 3, Douglas ((especially douglas)) etc) since then so he sometimes falls into a loop of dreaming about other people in his life that he’s afraid will get hurt because of him too - tina, verda, unit bravo, even rebecca, though he would never admit that.

31: Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable.

definitely when he’s with the people he loves. i said earlier that liam hates being alone (and being alone with his thoughts) and it shows in the way he’s constantly after a hookup or a party or any place he’s surrounded by a distraction and even though he’s chasing these scenarios to fill that gap, they aren’t what makes him comfortable. he tends to feel the need to get away when he gets stressed which is why he spends so much time in the woods or in the city by himself and even though it helps him to clear his head, there’s always a feeling like there’s something missing. he feels safe and at home when he’s at tina’s for movie night or bringing breakfast over to have with verda and his family or, eventually, sitting on the couch in the living room of the warehouse with unit bravo. he’s a secret softie like that 🤭

i hope these made sense, ive been jotting down thoughts about them in my notes and tried to make them a bit more readable for this post haha but thanks again for asking!! and id love to share more about my tina-mancer i just have to figure out who she is first 😅 ive been finishing my replay for liam and haven’t played her any since so hopefully soon i will post more about her ! she still needs a name though yall give me suggestions im so bad at names.

[annevmoreira]

Mirrors

Day 3 of @31daysofwayhaven

[hatesnail]

Day 8 - Villain

[s-ewell]

“hello, detective”

MIRROR day 3 of the @31daysofwayhaven

[fruitjuucy]

31 Days of Wayhaven

Day 1: Sharp

[songofsoma]

31 days of wayhaven | day 2: monster

𝔞 𝔡𝔲 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

"I don't think you're a monster, Ava," I reply finally, my tone just as serious as her had been.

The hostility in her stance drops, though she seems hesitant. A frown fights for position on her expression, but it succumbs to regret instead. "Maybe you should."

"Why?" The word is breathy as it leaves me, an emotional weight seeming to grip at my chest from nowhere.

The slightest smile curves her lips. "Because it would be safer for you." The frown finally sets deep on her face. "For me."

[honeysofte-archieve]

Day 4: Strong

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles.

Pairing: Female Detective/Ava.

Rating: explicit. NSFW.

Genre: wall sex...... just wall sex.

Word Count: 1,054

written for @31daysofwayhaven ♥

So, here is how it goes:

after having their first successful date night— as Vesper insisted on calling it if only to make Ava exasperated enough to roll her eyes— Ava helps Vesper out of her long, admittedly ridiculously expensive coat and hangs it with care on the rack on the wall before shrugging off her own outerwear, rather lost in thought.

Afterwards she turns around to face Vesper who smiles, amused or perhaps even a little endeared. It makes Ava's left eyebrow curve in curiosity. There's a few exchanged looks, a silent dialogue and hands curled around the other one's neck, nails scraping tender skin. A mouth leaving a red stain on Ava's sharp jawbone, a whisper of teeth on her neck. An obvious seduction, but impossible to ignore.

EXPLICIT. 18+

She reaches in to touch in return, can't resist the desire enough to keep her hands to herself. Blunt fingers trail across a bare arm road tripping their way under the spaghetti strap of a black dress and pull it down, the fabric dropping down just enough to reveal a beautiful curve of bare breast.

Vesper breathes in sharply. Ava stares, wide-eyed.

"Detective," she croaks before swallowing, gulping desperately for air. Her ears are ringing. Her next words are scandalised. "Are you completely naked underneath this dress?"

Vesper shifts on her feet, her high heels knocking against the wooden floor. She seems surprisingly bashful. "Maybe you should take it off me and find out," she suggests, bringing her manicured nails to her lips which are bowed in a grin.

It makes Ava growl deep inside her throat and that is how they ended up in a situation such as this:

pressed against a wall, Vesper's short legs around Ava's waist (red heels still on and everything), dress stretching precariously as Ava's holds her up with a steady grip on her ass. A big palm cupping her cunt, fingers tracing the pink folds, inner thighs wet and chafing as they rub together to squeeze against Ava's wandering hand.

"You are… very wet," Ava murmurs. Her voice is filled with quiet awe— to think that someone like Vesper wants her back just as fiercely as Ava wants her.

Vesper moans as Ava's forefinger dips inside of her, testing the waters. "I'm sorry. I can't help it," she sighs, biting her lower lip. "I want you too much. It kind of fucks me up a bit."

Ava leans down to mouth her small breast. "Shh, please never apologise for that," she answers against her skin, the slight sheen of sweat salty on her tongue. "I adore it," she admits quietly.

Sex or saying things aloud is still not as easy for her as she would like, but Vesper is endlessly patient with her— something Ava feels like she could never entirely deserve despite Vesper always claiming otherwise.

Vesper has a few seconds to smile before Ava improves their position and starts fucking her fingers in and out with a steady pace. It sounds obscene— the wet sound of Vesper's cunt filling to the brim. It's a tight fit; two of Ava's fingers are large enough to stretch her hole deliciously, full and lovely.

"Oh," Vesper sighs, her head banging against the wall, though she doesn’t seem to care, "that's so good. I keep forgetting how strong you are," she continues, sounding somewhat delirious from pleasure. Her breaths are only little whimpers.

Ava smirks. It doesn't take her a lot of effort to hold Vesper up like this to be perfectly honest. She feels so light and good in her arms and Ava doesn't ever want to let her free.

"I take it you enjoy this," Ava says smugly, bringing her thumb to Vesper's clit, circling it with teasing movements, too gently for the pressure Vesper craves.

"That's putting it lightly and you know it, you ass," comes the impatient answer and it makes Ava chuckle, her voice rough because of how happy she feels at this moment.

She latches her mouth on Vesper's neck like a true vampire, teeth scraping the sensitive skin but never piercing through it for she would never dare to do so even if the lingering want itches her mind on a regular basis.

But she can, instead, do this: grab both of Vesper’s wrists inside her fist and hoist her upwards in a rough motion, leaving the distinct sound of ripping fabric behind. It’s no matter, Ava thinks, the detective has at least seven exact copies of this dress hidden in her massive amount of clothing.

“Jesus, Ava!” Vesper cries out, scandalised, but Ava can feel her getting even more soaked under her palm.

“You are...” She doesn’t know how to end the sentence, but Vesper obviously knows what she’s thinking about.

“I know I am,” Vesper grins, but she’s getting obviously impatient. “Now hurry up and make me come already.”

Ava growls and does just that.

It doesn’t take long, Vesper usually orgasms fast and multiple times whenever they lay together and it’s still beautiful, even after the two months they have spent time together like this. She moans loudly as she comes, never quite knows how to keep quiet, and Ava loves her for it— how utterly unapologetic she is about all of this. Ava doesn’t quite keep up with her and it’s normal for them to end things before she gets her own relief. It doesn’t bother her, she is perfectly content in just making Vesper feel good. She doesn't necessarily need anything else.

Afterwards, Ava leans in to kiss Vesper softly. "I want you always," she murmurs against her lips, too far gone to feel embarrassed about the sudden words. Such an idiotic and dangerous thing to confess yet she doesn’t regret speaking her thoughts aloud.

The pause is barely there at all. "You have me," Vesper answers immediately. She cups Ava's cheek and makes sure their eyes meet before she continues: "I love you. So much."

Ava flushes even more and presses their foreheads together. "You have no idea how much that matters to me," she whispers. Her eyes are closed, but she can still smell the flowery scent of Vesper’s perfume and hear her rapid heartbeat in the quietness of the apartment.

Vesper’s laugh is soft and kind. "I think I have a clue, anyway.”

[quartzrose-art]

31 days of Wayhaven day 6 prompt: Broken

This is my Nat mancer (who still doesn't have a name) dealing with her broken heart from Bobby!! Fuck you Bobby!!!!

Likes are nice but reblogs make my day!

[wooflesthatwoof]

day 1 | sharp

tysm @31daysofwayhaven for such a lovely prompt list!! i’m gonna try to write something for each day, so here’s day one!!

Pairing(s): Mason x gender neutral!Detective Warning(s): None that I can think of, please let me know if I missed something!! Words: 634 Summary: The detective has a small question about vampires, Mason is as close to helpful as he can get Notes: I tried to keep the detective as neutral as possible, but because I’m a simple gayass enby I did use the nickname “sweetheart” once

 “Hey, Mason?” The detective calls from the other side of the room, still shrugging off a jacket.

 Mason gives a quiet “Hm?” in response.

 The detective, settling down in a chair across from him, pauses for a second despite being the one to start the conversation. Mason certainly doesn’t miss the way their hand comes up to rest on their neck, even as they try to cover it up by running a hand through their hair. 

 “Did you have a question or not?” He asks, maybe a bit harsher than he had intended.

 They shake their head after a second, followed by a quiet sigh. “No, it’s nothing.” 

 Mason scoffs. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have said it.” The detective sighs again, and so he continues, “You don’t have to tell me shit, but don’t say it’s nothing if it bothers you so much.” 

 They give a half-hearted smile. “Take your own advice sometime, just maybe?” 

 He considers it for a second, before correcting himself, “Don’t say it’s nothing if I can tell you’re lying.” 

 “That gives you an unfair advantage.” The detective points out with a frown.

 Mason doesn’t offer any verbal response, just a lazy smile that creeps its way across his lips. 

   The room slips into a comfortable silence for a while, though Mason has to admit he doesn’t enjoy the quiet as much as he usually would. He blames it on the detective’s rather distracting fidgeting in the corner— part of him knows that he isn’t really annoyed at them, more concerned than anything really, but that’s the same part of him that doesn’t get to make regular appearances when he talks. 

 Eventually, the silence is broken by the detective asking, “Could you tell me about your fangs?”

 “My fangs?” Mason echos, partially unsure if he had heard right.

 They nod, and so he stands up to make his way across the room. They stand at the same time as him, though they move to leave rather than get closer.

 “Where are you going? I don’t bite,” Mason chuckles, mostly to himself, “well, unless you ask nicely.”

 They offer a smile, he tries to ignore how forced it looks. “I was just curious.”

 He leans against the wall beside them, shrugging the best he can without standing up right. “What is it you want to know?”

 They pause for a second, he can almost see the gears turning in their head. “Can.. Could you just show me?”

 Mason opens his mouth to make a joke that Nate wouldn’t approve of, only to cut himself off before he even starts. Pushing himself off the wall, he leans closer to them— making note of how close he can get before they start to pull away, which happens to be quite close— and simply opens his mouth to show off the sharpened teeth.

 The detective stares back at him, and for once he can’t quite get a read on them. It’s an odd mix of too many emotions at once for him to differentiate all of them.

 “Scared of me, sweetheart?” Mason smirks, seeing the shock on the detective’s face— not that it was exactly hard to spot, with how much it stuck out on their expression.

 “No.” They answer quickly, reaching up to rest their hand on his cheek. “Never.”

 His smirk falters for a second, not quite expecting such a genuine response. They offer a soft smile, which he rolls his eyes at. Though, he doesn’t move away even as they run their thumb over his cheek. It’s something he’s still not quite used to— that soft, gentle intimacy.

 He pushes their hand away a second later.

 “Hey,” The detective calls towards him as he walks away, still smiling, “thank you.”

 Mason chuckles lightly, giving a simple nod in response.

[anavakarian]

A tipping point

Adam + Eve (Female detective)

Rating: explicit. Smut, fluff and angst ahead!

The night is clear and chilly, just enough to form vapour clouds in front of my mouth with my exhales, and the absence of moonlight turns it into the perfect setting for a horror film. The twinkle of the carved Jack O'Lanterns watches over the scarce souls that still wander the streets, close to the witch’s hour of midnight. Trick or treat time is far over and only lonely passer-by are still out on the streets.

And that is exactly my case. Except for the small detail that I am not alone and someone else - tall, broad-shouldered, grey pea coat - walks next to me immersed in an annoyed - and annoying - silence.   

“Oh! C’mon Adam... You have to admit that the irony is funny. Just a little bit?”

My tone is easy and hopeful, and I grin at him, trying to ease the mood. A pointless effort, I’m afraid, as the blonde vampire just scowls even further, stubbornly quiet, while we arrive at the door of my apartment block. 

So I just give up, rolling my eyes and looking away from him. “Well, at least Felix thought it was hilarious…”

The constant and assured sound of his steps behind me come to a halt while I retrieve the keys. In the corner of my eye, I perceive that Adam is giving me a hard look, narrowed icy green eyes even cooler than before, if that’s possible at all. His jaw is clenched, shoulders tight and I am nearly sure that his hands are fisted into balls in the pockets of his coat. 

And I know he’s about to chew me out once we walk in and I know it's about my costume. Not that he scares me, as it’s not the first time he barks at me and we end up headbutting. In preparation - and foreseeing the storm coming - I feel my moodiness skyrocketing at the same time my brow sinks, mirroring his own.

Although, being completely honest about it… Perhaps I’ve been pushing this whole dressing-up joke a bit too far… 

This whole situation began 4 hours ago, although it had been lurking in my mind for quite a long time already. As a joke. 

Halloween has always been my favourite festival and this year, as a Detective, I had the dubious privilege of being invited to the private and exclusive party at the Town Hall. There was alcohol, music, snobs, representatives of the city services and, of course, Mayor Friedman. And, as a whole novelty this year, Agent Rebecca Greene and her squad had also been invited: the sexy vampires were still the talk of the town even after the passing months. Besides, the mayor was still trying to bang my mum, to my disgust... 

As I fully expected, only Nate and Felix dressed up for the party: a rather good looking mummy and a zombie. And, as I also fully expected, Mason and Adam didn’t. Fair enough… To be honest, I couldn’t really picture them in any supernatural costume different than their own skin. 

I obviously dressed up, as I already said, on a smashing costume and I thought it was the best and funniest idea ever. Felix cackled the loudest guffaw when he saw me, that bad that he had to bend over himself to keep breathing. Nate chuckled, shaking his head in amused disbelief. Mason wolfishly smiled at me, although I think it was more about the outfit than the actual costume idea. Thought confirmed after he gave me a clear pick-up line. But Adam…

Well, I would have never thought I could gather so much coldness in a glare as I received from him at that instant. 

And just for a stupid costume! Black leather trousers, victorian corset, a black velvet cape, some fake blood and, the final touch, a cheap set of fangs that kept falling off my mouth every time I opened it. 

I was a vampire!!!

Honestly, I found it hilarious, working with four of them. But it was quite clear to me that Adam didn’t share my amusement…

After four hours of mingling with authorities and a bunch of snobs, dealing with the Major and keeping my mum at distance, the party was over and I was not even drunk. And, to my surprise, Adam was the only one who volunteered to accompany me home, even if my gaze screamed at Nate for help…  

In other circumstances, I would have really wanted Adam to walk me home, but not today. Not when we have barely exchanged words at all during the whole evening. During this year we have had our sweet moments together, mostly holding hands, long deep conversations over a glass of wine, understanding a bit better why he acts the way he does with me. And I’m being patient, Gods know I am because I think he will be worth it. But I’m just a bit fed up with his pissy behaviour lately. 

 In the blink of an eye, we are both in front of my apartment door.

“What is what you find annoying about my costume exactly? I mean… I was the one bitten and everything, and the only one with no supernatural powers. Haven’t you considered that this might actually be sort of therapeutic for me?” I reproach at him with a matter-of-fact tone, fumbling with the keys to open the door. Perhaps I should have just remained quiet and wait for him to speak, but I’m quite pissed at his pissiness , if that makes sense. 

In response, Adam’s brow bottoms down his face as if I have just said the most stupid thing in the history of humanity. “Therapeutic???” He asks in bewilderment, following me inside and pushing the door closed after himself - not hard enough to break it, though.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll carry on being a miserable human and having nightmares as I had before…” I retort, scowl now patent on my face, gesturing excessively with my hands in a very dramatic way, I reckon. 

And my line and acting only makes his frown sink deeper - if that’s even possible - and ball his hands into fists on his sides. “Do not twist my words, Eve. Besides, are you seriously telling me that this... charade feels therapeutic in any way to you?” he insists, signalling my outfit with a hand in disbelief.

“Yes! This means I’ve reached a point where I can make fun of Murphy’s attack… So yes, it’s kind of therapeutic, Adam.” I’m fully aware that my tone is far from being quiet at all, but he’s getting on my nerves and this argument is overly stupid. 

We both pause to glare at each other on opposite sides of my dining room. The setting is great: giant spiderwebs and a new set of plastic pumpkins lighten my apartment up gloomily. There's distant music on the next-door flat’s party that seeps through mine.

“Make fun? You nearly died! That’s the most reckless statement…” He gives two steps forwards but stops himself on going any further, nearly choking with the intensity of his voice that echoes in the walls like a drum roll and I hold my ground in front of that man that is scolding me as if I was a child. Once Adam speaks again, he has lowered his volume considerably. “This is not a thing you should be making fun of. We are far from being the romantic characters every novel painted, but monsters, Eve,” he grunts, his tone sharp and cold as the winter wind.

My chest tightens and my blood boils at his statement and his patent stubbornness. I stride towards him, bridging the distance between us, my finger pointing at his broad chest. Menacing. Threatening. I actually snarl at him when I speak. “No, you’re not. You’re as far of being a monster as you are of being a fucking romance novel character. So stop saying it!” 

The words leave my mouth definitely harsher than I intended. At least, harsh enough to quieten him momentarily. Despite his silence, Adam glares at me because of my outburst. However, it only lasts for a second. It quickly changes into something softer, with a hushed hint of gratitude at the meaning of my words, and a hint of something else that neither of us has been brave enough to name just yet.

And, suddenly, the world stops spinning and I become hyper-aware of our proximity, the broad frame of his body just a few inches away from me. The annoying music of my neighbours muffles in my ears and our agitated breaths are the only sound perceivable. I suddenly realize that he smells... well, nice.

We stare at each other for a while, icy green eyes meeting my sapphire blue ones, still challenging and proud, but not cold anymore. 

His gaze lingers on mine, boldly but hesitant, before gliding down slowly to my lips. We had found ourselves in situations like this before, longing pulling us together as the most potent magnet. But he always runs away from me nevertheless.

Adam swallows hard, and I can see and feel his struggle. 

My breath hitches. My heart stutters. I’m not sure if it's because of the prospect of another disappointment or because I do really need whatever might happens next.

No. This time won’t be different than many others before... The longing will persist. He cannot be thinking of doing it for real this time, can he? 

But, to my surprise, he does.

His hand, slightly trembling, reaches out to cup my chin and tips it up. And he leans down and kisses me gently, just a light contact lip to lip. Insecure. Fleeting.  

I freeze. 

Adam pulls away and I blink confused, not believing what has just happened. The kiss has been so soft and brief that I am not really sure I didn’t imagine it. 

I let out a breath I don't know I am holding, and look at him, wondering for answers. Wondering what that meant.

The raw emotion in his eyes strikes me hard: a mixed desire for more and fear. I cannot think, our gazes are locked on each other. My body reacts before I do, getting on my tiptoes and circling his neck with my arms carefully slow as if he might vanish if I go any faster. 

I pull him down for another tentative kiss and he doesn’t resist. 

Unhurried, languid, but firmer than his, trying to figure out if this is just a dream. And to my delight Adam responds, his lips moving on mine shyly.

And I sink back on my heels, parting from him.

He nuzzles my nose with his and rests his forehead on mine, eyes closed, both our breaths ragged. The next thing I feel is his hand cradling the back of my neck, fingers caressing my scalp, while his other arm wraps around my waist, pushing me closer to his firm body as if the distance between us hurts. 

He seeks my mouth this time, his tongue teasing my bottom lip with the slightest touch. And I concede, parting them. I'm completely lost in the taste of him, in the silky strokes of his tongue and in the delicacy of each of his movements. 

But it only takes seconds, or perhaps minutes, before the kiss grows. Thirsty. Starving. From unhurried to needy. From subtle to determined. Full of contained emotion.

I tighten the grip of my hands on the collar of his shirt, desperately searching for support, as I’m not sure if I’m awake or dreaming. His scent, the need and the heat of his mouth… I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to wake up. His other hand tangles on my short hair and tugs tentatively, tilting my head to the side. He kisses my cheek, my jawline and descends a trail of nips and kisses down my neck and I moan, desire blooming in my core. His mouth reaches one especially sensitive spot that makes me gasp and he suddenly freezes, taking a dark deep inhale over my pulse point. 

My eyes snap open. A thrill of danger descends down my spine.

“I wouldn’t mind if you…” I breathe out with a husky voice, meaning clearly implicit in the unfinished sentence. And I surprise myself realizing it is the truth indeed.

However, he cuts my words short. “I won’t,” Adam claims, although I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself.    

Before I can think of it any further, he goes back to my lips and I drink his kiss with fervent desperation. My hands go back to life, running over his shirt, untucking it from his trousers and undoing buttons as I find them. When I finally pull it open, I trail the soft skin of his torso and his hard muscles and planes and I sigh in awe. Hot perfection, like one of those roman statues that the museums keep in their insides. Timeless beauty. 

The bare rake of my nails over his sensitive abs make him moan and I chuckle when his usually clever fingers, unable to undo the tie of my cape, rip it open instead. 

Adam stops and huffs, but I don’t give him time to speak or to apologize. Or to overthink about it before I’m tugging at his shirt. “Take this off,” I mumble, so close to his lips that I’m sure he can feel the words. 

And he immediately complies, getting off the shirt and tossing it onto the floor. I pull away just for an instant, just to admire the exquisite perfection of his body, how his chest rises with an agitated breath, how the slightest blush of pink has grown on his cheeks and how he’s looking at me with unconcealed want. 

The colossal barrier that Adam had put between us during this whole year is not there anymore. The wall has collapsed. The dam has burst. And we are being dragged away by the strongest and most primal need I’ve ever felt before.

Desire strikes me so hard that makes my knees buckle.

I gasp in surprise when he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his torso. Entangled on kisses, he paces until the wall makes us stop forcefully. It feels frozen cold against my back in heavy contrast with the burning heat of his body embracing me. 

Gods, I feel him whole, hard against my core when he rocks between my legs and I moan. The pressure feels good, far too good. But it’s not even close to what I need. What I want. I rock my hips in response, eliciting a groan from him that sounds delightful in my ears. 

And, suddenly, he sharply breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Adam rests his forehead on my bare shoulder while I’m still wrapped in his strong arms, helplessly wondering why the reason for his pause is. Even when my fingers comb his scalp gently in an encouraging way, I can still feel his hesitation. 

Is it because of my blood? Am I really that overwhelming ?

“Adam, we don’t have to continue. It’s ok,” I mutter, resigned but understanding. 

He sighs and pulls away, just enough to meet my gaze. His mouth opens, but he stumbles with the words and that’s so unusual in his normally secure endeavour that makes me hyper-aware that this is a highly unmapped ground for him. He takes a deep breath before trying to speak again. “I do want you, but it’s been a long time…” To my surprise, he smiles thinly, shyly - just a bit - and a red blush crawls onto his face. “I’m a bit overwhelmed and this could be a rather disappointing experience if we keep up this pace...”  

Oh!... Ah! Ok… 

It seems that I was quite wrong about the blood and I do wonder for an instant what “a long time” exactly means for a 900 years old vampire, but I hold the question for another day, perhaps. However, I’m still against the wall, lifted up and feeling him hard and pushing against me. As much as I want to be fucked right here and now, I could also do with a change of pace. 

“We can slow down a bit, perhaps?”

He nods and leaves me back on the floor delicately, his fingers caressing my cheek immediately after on a dreamy promise and I realize that I’m more than willing to hurtle towards whatever abyss he wants to take me with him.

Before I can react, his lips are on mine again, but this time sweetly and delicately again, and his hands are scouting over the corset, sliding down towards my hips and back up, unhurriedly caressing the sides of my torso. His touch is feather-like over the side of my breasts and sends a thrill of desire straight to my core.  

“As much as you look stunning in this, I would appreciate if you take it off.”   

I have to chuckle at his polite ways, but I comply. He spins me around and pulls gently at the laces, this time without ripping anything apart. Still with my back to him, the next thing I feel are his hands mapping my skin and tracing my arms and shoulders, caressing my neck and my scalp. I gasp when he finally steps closer to me and embraces me from behind, being his chest flushed to my back. 

Adam kisses my neck again as lingers his hands over my body. I moan and squirm in his touch when he finally - finally - outlines my breasts with his fingers before his thumbs caress my nipples. Before I realize, one of his hands has slipped into my trousers sneakily and I feel myself dying in anticipation, holding my breath. 

He perfectly knows what he’s doing when he parts my folds to damp a finger into my moisture before going back to caress my clit. The moan that leaves my mouth is obscene and my knees decide is a good time to give up, that bad that Adam has to hold my waist to avoid me to drop on the floor.

“Is this good?” he whispers in my ear with a bit of smugness, cradling me closer to his body if that’s even possible at all.

I stutter something incoherent as lost as I am on the feeling of him, on his unhurried strokes on my sex, on his strong arm circling my waist, on the warmth of his naked skin on mine and on the feeling of his lips, claiming my neck with tender kisses. 

My pleasure is building way too fast, probably out of anticipation and pure need. At the end of the day, it has been nearly one year craving him. My nails dig into his biceps and I find the strength to put words together at last. “Adam, you’re doing quite a good job, but I want you...”

“But I don’t know how long...” he whispers in a veiled excuse.

The steady rhythm of his finger fastens just a bit and I feel the tension coiling up in my core. 

“It doesn’t matter, please… I want you,” I insist.

But he carries on. I’m already at the edge of my climax when he finally slows his relentless pace and pulls his hand out my trousers. I complain with a muffled groan, my whole body twitching, desperate to reach the denied relief. However, my frown and my frustration soften when I see his focused expression and his thin smile. Adam holds my hand and walks me into my bedroom. We kiss again, hard and passionate and I melt into his embrace and his doing.

Our remaining clothes are off on a blur of motion that I cannot clearly recall, and we map our bodies, lingering touches over flushed and heated skin. But I know he’s stretching the moment out and I just wonder if it’s because he’s really enjoying the caresses or he’s really that adorably shy for not wanting to ask. 

“Are you sure of this, Adam?” 

He doesn’t reply - he’s quite busy exploring my lips - but he nods fervently, cupping my face with his hands.

I grin a little because he is broad and stern, pig-headed and scary sometimes. But I got to see that part of him that is not the common one: his vulnerability, his insecurities and his fears. The next question is probably the most awkward thing I’ve ever asked during foreplay, as the flow of the moment usually leads to it naturally. However, despite our clear intention of ending this whole experience in bed, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Would you like to be on top or shall I?”  

He takes in a shaky inhale before answering. “Whichever feels best for you, Eve.”

I smile at the consideration of his answer and push him back a little so he falls on the bed. Adam shuffles back to rest his head on the pillows and I climb up onto his hips but he seems to be reading my mind and sits up immediately, circling my waist with his arm, fingers splayed over my bare back, anchoring me. 

He groans with pleasure when I hold his thick erection to line him up with my body. Then, I lower myself down slowly, sinking him inch by inch in me. Fireworks, or perhaps a million galaxies, begin to cluster behind my eyes at the sensation and completion never felt so intense, so good and so right at the same time. 

The righteous feeling of belonging overwhelms me when I begin to rock very slow in his lap. When his hands clasp my hips with unexpected strength. When his lips find mine just to let out a shaky exhale.

After the first deep thrust of my hips - which makes him moan and shiver, to my delight - his thumb reaches straight away to the point we are joined together to caress my clit. I ride him unhurriedly, kissing, drinking his pleasured sounds with my mouth and focusing on angling my hips for him to reach that sweet spot inside me. After all the meticulous foreplay, my climax strikes me really fast and with the weight of one year of contained feelings and longing. With the asphyxiating pressure of words that haven’t been spoken between us yet. 

And immediately after, Adam's hips stutter and I feel him come, leaving muffled groans and heavy pants on the crook of my neck. His teeth tease my tender skin without breaking it and I’m amazed at how much self-restraint he actually has.  

The world blurs on the edges and tiredness makes its way into my bones. We kiss for some minutes, sloppily and tenderly, before I move away from his lap and into the bathroom to clean myself. 

Looking in the mirror, I see the marks on my skin, slight bruises and love bites that will tell the story of our passionate night to everyone that would be curious enough to notice. But he hasn’t bitten me. Not at all. 

I smile goofily at my reflection and try not to put words at the feeling that blooms in my chest, thinking of what a huge step forwards this actually has been. For him. For us. 

To my surprise, Adam is fast asleep in my bed when I come back to my bedroom.

 ***

 The weight of his arm has been a consistent leitmotif during the night and, even if disruptive after such a long time sleeping alone, it has been welcomed. 

However, there’s nothing there anymore. I can’t feel the warmth of his body. The bulge of blankets on his side. Just nothing. 

I open my eyes and, as if waking up from a dream to fall into a nightmare, I realize Adam is not in my bed, but just an empty cold space where he should be. 

I don’t fully understand what is going on but, once I do, I panic. And, then, I dread, taking his disappearance as regret. It’s suddenly obvious that he feels guilty about what happened between us and fled. 

And that I’m alone once again. 

Perhaps this shouldn’t have happened in the first instance... Perhaps this has all been a mistake... 

But it’s too late to take things back as they were before. In what sort of vulnerable position this leaves us now?

“Shit!” I mutter, upset and worried, scrambling out of bed and putting on an old oversized t-shirt that is meant to be my pyjamas.

I decide to get my phone and call him right away to figure out whatever is going on in his mind. Or, at least, to try to. My phone’s in my bag, in the kitchen.

But, as soon as I pull my bedroom door open, my heart nearly stops at the shock. Adam is in the dining room, fully dressed and standing in front of the entrance door. As still as a statue.

He looks up at me, full of regret and I froze.    

“I thought you had left...” I barely say, my throat tightening painfully.

“I… I tried to.”

Bitterness spreads through my body at his confession and, after what happened between us, after my dreamy high expectations, I have to swallow hard to keep the tears at bay.

Has this meant anything to him at all? What is he running away from?

“What has stopped you?” After a year of battling with him and with his emotional constipation, I’m truly tired. I’m just exhausted. And I don’t think I can bear with the disappointment of whatever he is about to say.

But his expression is not stern, neither stoic as it usually is. He looks worn out. As exhausted as I am. And mostly troubled. “I can’t… I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of lying to myself and to everyone. To you...”

“I don’t think you are as good a liar as you think you are, Adam…”

My snarky but sincere comment makes him smile sadly. 

There’s a tense silence. A whole minute of staring at each other, seizing each other. Until he breaks the silence once again to tell me out of the blue, “I’m in love with you, Eve.”

But he looks so troubled at that beautiful line that my heart dreads and I can’t find the wits to answer back. I feel like crying and, even so, I pull a smile on. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Can I ask… What are you so scared of?”

“Loss. Guilt...” he replies without hesitation. “I love you but, whatever happens, I don’t want to drag you along with me. To this darkness...”

And, suddenly, everything clicks. Adam has suffered loss with mortals, with friends and family, for over 900 years. I’m sure that the last thing he intended was to fall in love with one. We, mortals, are… brief. Fleeting lives. Shooting stars. He just doesn’t want to lose me. To suffer another loss. But, most and foremost, he doesn’t want to drag me with him to his curse. 

He considers himself a monster. He doesn’t want me to become a vampire in order to be together.

I can’t help but feel sorry for him and for his experiences. For the complex situation that we find ourselves into and because there’s no way we will both be able to come out of it intact. And I’m fully aware of it when I lock my eyes in his icy green ones, reddened by worry and hesitation. Anxious. “You’re not dragging me anywhere I didn’t think of before you and me ever happened and, even so, it wouldn’t be your decision to make Adam, but mine. If anything has to be, we will figure it out once it’s time. The only thing you are to decide now is staying with me or leaving. That's it..."

The words leave my mouth on a rushed blurt out that is barely a whisper before the pain in my throat forbids me on carrying on talking and I’m fully aware of how ultimate it sounds. My eyes are wet, far much of what I intended, but I also understand that this will be it. A tipping point. After what has just happened between us, there’s no way we would be able to go back to what we had before, that platonic and patient relationship. And, if he leaves now… I don’t even want to think about it.

I go back to my bedroom under his attentive and aching stare, and into my bed, laying on my side and covering myself with the blankets. 

Nothing happens.

Five. Ten. Or perhaps thirty minutes just focused on my breath. I’m not sure of how long I remain awake, listening to every sound, wondering if he will choose me over his doubts. 

But, as the minutes happen and nothing else matters but his absence, the tears I’ve been stubbornly keeping inside burst free and slide down my cheeks, dying in the fluffiness of the pillow. 

He’s left. He’s made his choice and he’s left. 

And he’s taken my heart with him.

I’m so deep in my misery that I startle when an unexpected weight sinks the left part of the mattress down. Adam shifts closer, flushing his chest against my back, and wraps his arm around me tightly. Then, he drops a single kiss on my shoulder that means the universe to me. 

“I love you,” he whispers quietly against my ear.

I dry my tears, wriggling around in his embrace to face him. To kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

Read it on AO3

[bellarxse]

Day 6: Broken

Sophia storms back into her office at the precinct, slamming the door behind her.

“But you do have those feelings?” “No, I do not.”

Her hands had been tense on the steering wheel for the drive back into town, and she had stalked back into town under a cloud, feeling the dribs and drabs of humanity part around her like the Red Sea.

No, I do not.

A wordless howl as she launches a paperweight from her hand at the wall, feeling a dull thrum of satisfaction as it shatters from the force of her rage.

No, I do not.

Heavy breaths are ripped out of her lungs, before she can even begin to calm herself, swearing softly at the mess as she gingerly picks shards of broken glass (broken like her) out of the thick carpet and wraps them in newspaper.

No, I do not.

Wishing that it would be just as easy to dispose of her own broken shards and her own sharp edges.

No, I do not.

31 Days of Wayhaven // @31daysofwayhaven

[annevmoreira]

Sharp

Day 1 of the @31daysofwayhaven​

[s-ewell]

STRONG day 4 of the @31daysofwayhaven

-

So I had two (very different) ideas inpired by this prompt! At first it was just supposed to be Ava being.. you know, her phisically strong self, but then I began to think about how hard it must be for A to handle things and not express much of their feelings. So I thought... how maybe they'd break down and cry alone from time to time? sorry for making it so sad omg

The second one was more of an excuse for me to make Ava lift my detective Theo... he's very happy. Very pleased.