#happy birthday nate sewell!

[agentnatesewell]

Happy Birthday, Agent Sewell!

Thank you to my dear and the spectacular @crownleys for this magnificent art of Nate and Suri!

[obsessivedino]

[keikilahelas]

𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗺𝗰

i would never hurt her....to do that, i think....would hurt me far more

𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼: @choicesarehard

[l-xcixxs]

IM LATE BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY N!! SORRY YOU GET A SUCKY SKETCH <3

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Be Still, My Foolish Heart

In honor of N Sewell’s birthday, here’s a spicy snippet (spicy implications at least, nothing in TOO much detail here) from the fic that I don’t know if I’ll ever finish or have the courage to post lmao

“Love, please.” He’s panting now, hips jerking in an unsteady rhythm as she slows her hand again. She spares a glance up at him, finally looking at the mess she’s made of him, and her breath catches at the sight. What a pretty picture he is now –hair a mess, eyes blown dark, lips swollen and parted as he struggles to catch his breath. She sees just the barest hint of his fangs now.

Every bit of his carefully constructed composure has been shattered. Thoroughly picked apart –and the fact it’s her doing sends another jolt of excitement skittering down her spine.

Still his hands are balled up tight, veins and tendons in his arms standing prominent from the tension, obediently pressed to his sides. He could easily take control back, swap their positions –she’d gladly give it up, her own want has her feeling strung too tight, her heartbeat loud in her ears and breathing unsteady. He knows how much she wants him; he can hear as much. But he doesn’t move, because she’s asked him to stay still.

The surge of confidence in that thought is enough to make her head spin.

She moves her hands up, smiling when he groans at the loss of contact. She traces soothing circles at his hip bones with her thumbs, pressing soft kisses against his thighs, the muscles jumping under her lips. “A chuisle, tell me.” She speaks between kisses, the endearment tumbles out without thought, but she’s too drunk on him to care. “Tell me what you want.”

His breathing stutters, recognition in his eyes as his brows raise. He understands it, because it’s him and there’s few languages he doesn’t know. “Let me touch you, please.”

He speaks as a plea, desperate and needy, and the dominant high she’d been riding on snaps like a tether. She pushes herself up, holding his gaze, “Kiss me-”

[raleighcarrera]

#2 from winter/holiday writing prompts for nate x mc ❤️

holiday writing requests / 2. makeout sesh in front of the fire, but someone is being a tad too respectful

she’s warm all over, cozy from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 

it probably has something to do with the fire roaring behind her back, but she knows it also has a lot to do with the vampire whose lap she’s spread across, knees digging into either side of the couch with nate’s loose limbs sprawled around her. 

her arms are looped around his neck, her fingers playing with the soft hair at the back of his head. they’ve been making out for what feels like an eternity, at this point, yet no amount of restless shifting on top of nate or soft exhales of his name seem to be able to spur him into further action.

she would know. she’s been trying. 

somehow he’s been doing an excellent job at ignoring her wandering hands and little sighs and the way she’s so obviously pushing him to make a move, taking his time working his lips against hers, kissing every last thought out of her mind.

there is something nice about this -- the unhurried pace of it all, the languid warmth of nate’s kiss. for once, there’s nothing to worry about and no where to be. there’s just this -- this pg-13 makeout on her sofa in front of the fire while snow drifts down outside her window.

for now, she’s still mortal, so she does actually need to take breaks to breathe. when she dips back, her lips feel swollen, her face hot and flushing deeper as soon as she hears how wrecked her voice sounds. “you know... you don’t have to keep your hands on my waist.”

nate laughs, the low rumble of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t?” he murmurs, sounding amused, “where should i put them, then?”

there’s a tiny huff of frustration before she reaches for his hands and slides them down the curves of her sides. nate only lets his palms linger on her thighs, where she’s left them, for a moment before he moves around to her ass, cupping her in his hands.

she grins at him. “that seems like a good place to start.”

“start?” he repeats, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “sounds like you have something planned, to me.”

“so what if i do?” she asks, glancing coyly off to the side, “it’s christmas eve. we should do something special.”

nate’s thumbs draw slow circles on the small of her back, pushing up under her top. “well, you’re right about that.”

“i’m always right,” she smiles, already leaning back in for another kiss. despite her desire to move things along, it does feel a bit like it’s been too long since she’s been able to kiss him. their lips brush gently, drawing a sigh from the back of her throat. “i love kissing you.”

“me, too,” he promises, voice serious as said kisses finally, finally start to move torturously slowly across her jaw, mapping a path over to her neck. 

she shifts pointedly in his lap again. “i wish you’d hurry up, though.”

she can feel his lips curve into a smile against the side of her throat. “i thought we were doing something special.”

“this is your idea of special?” she demands, balking up at the ceiling. “driving me out of my mind?”

“is that not special?” nate murmurs, teeth scraping ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of her collarbone. “it just... feels like you’re enjoying it, that’s all.”

she scoffs, winding her fingers a little more firmly into his hair. nate’s eyes are dark and fond when he lifts his head to smile crookedly at her. “you’re an awful tease.”

“i do what i can,” nate grins, tilting back up to capture his lips with hers again. even at this angle he’s so much larger than her, the breadth of his body covering hers despite her position of control. it’s a reminder that he could easily flip her over and pin her to the couch, if he wanted -- but he doesn’t, letting her decide how they do this even if he’s given her little input when it coms to setting the pace.

“we could go to my room,” she suggests, apropos of nothing. she’s panting, now, between each kiss. “like -- immediately.”

“what’s the rush?” nate asks, “it’s not like we have to work tomorrow.” his fingers push up beneath her shirt at what feels like a glacial pace, dragging across the bare skin at her back. “we could do this all night.”

“not if you ever want to get laid again, we can’t.” the sharp bark of nate’s laugh is loud enough to almost startle her onto the floor; strong hands keep her from toppling over and yank her in closer, still, above him.

“well... i’d hate for you to follow through on that threat.” he stares at her, smiling warmly, for what’s probably a full minute before leaning in to kiss her sweetly again, lips moving casually against hers. “but won’t you be cold without the fire?”

“we could also just move to the floor,” she suggests, her impatience worsening. “i’m really not picky.”

“there’s an idea,” nate hums, eyeing the stretch of carpet beside the fire from over her shoulder. his smile spreads. “as long as it’s still special for you.”

she rolls her eyes at him. “every day with you is special,” she says, more sincerely than she means to. she blinks as she realizes the truth in the words and the weight they suddenly hold, making her weirdly emotional. 

to be fair, she’s never felt this way about anyone, before. so it is sort of monumental to acknowledge.

nate doesn’t brush it off like she was hoping he would. the look in his eyes grows ever more tender and adoring, his expression softening as he lifts one hand to brush hair out of her face and cup her cheek. “i feel the same way,” he murmurs, “i feel so lucky just to know you.”

she sways forward, clutching his shoulders. it’ll probably never stop feeling spectacular, hearing him say something so open like that. “i love you, nate.”

“and i love you,” he answers, dragging his knuckles along her jaw until he can bump them affectionately under her chin. “come on. let’s take this to your room.”

she scrambles up so quickly it’s almost a match for his speed, tugging him through the doorway towards the bed with all the strength she has.

[heimdallwatchesyou]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @butterymiststake here’s an almost smooch <3 <3 <3 <3

[queerbrujas]

then it vanished away from my hands (part three)

pairing: nate sewell x eva navarro rating: T word count: 4k (10.1k total so far) warnings: angst (with no happy ending, though there’s a lot of comfort in this chapter). discussions about mortality and loss of agency. murphy trauma and flashbacks.

After discovering the reason why she can't turn, Eva tries (and fails) to come to terms with it.

part one | part two | read on ao3

this fic was originally meant to have three parts, but uh, that didn’t happen. current plan is to have it be four or five, depending on how the writing goes.

—

part three: my sense of self I lost somewhere

Eva’s eyes squeeze shut.

She’s all out of tears.

How long has she been sitting here?

This is—this is not working.

She can't be alone right now.

She can't be here right now, in this place that was once home to her and where there is nothing left that is familiar or comforting. Nothing but void, a shell filled with what’s left of the covered furniture she couldn’t get rid of.

The only thing here is—

is—

fuck.

The only thing here that seems alive and vivid is the image playing behind her eyelids of the apartment flooded with bright red smoke, the sounds of crashing and breaking, of Rebecca telling her to run, of Nate—

And a cold, cold voice that rings in her head, louder than every other sound.

She’s back outside in the rain. It soaks her to the bone, makes her shiver.

You are rather special, after all, Detective Navarro.

Why, why the hell did she think of coming here, of all places?

I do so prefer the quiet ones.

There isn’t enough air, she’s not getting enough air. She tries to gasp for it, to take deep breaths, but it’s not enough. When she opens her eyes the white walls of the apartment are closing in and her vision is blurred, hazy (not smoke, it’s not smoke, it’s not). A trapped scream tries to fight its way up her throat.

She wants to let it out. Scream. Thrash.

Tear her skin apart and climb out of her body.

This is not working.

This is not working—this won’t work.

She’s not going to be able to make it out of here on her own. Not out of the apartment, not off of the goddamn floor.

The sudden moment of clarity, tenuous and brittle as it is, spurs her into action.

Her phone. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her jacket: her hands are still shaking, and it takes her at least three attempts to get hold of it. Once she has it, it slips between her fingers and clatters to the floor.

She flinches at the noise. She’s going to start sobbing again.

She flexes her fingers. Breathe. Breathe.

Eventually, she manages it.

For just a split second, she considers calling, then decides against it. That won’t do. She doesn’t trust herself to speak without bursting into tears again.

I'm at my old apartment. Can you come over?, she writes, hits send. Then a second text: Please.

The reply comes before she’s had time to lock her phone again: there in 2 seconds.

She loses track of time again after that, closes her eyes and would not be able to say, later, how long she spent like this. What is left of her rational brain tells her not more than a few minutes can have passed before Farah is already there in a whirlwind.

Alarm is evident in the way her eyes shoot wide open as soon as she sees her, in the way she's kneeling down by Eva's side faster than her (human, human) eyes can register.

“Hey, hey.” The words tumble out of her quickly, blurring together. “Eva, what happened?”

Farah has seen her cry before, she’s seen her desperate and distressed and upset, but she’s never seen her like this.

She examines her, the way she’s sitting on the floor with her knees held to her chest, the sorry state of her—clearly looking for signs of physical injury. When she seems satisfied she’s found none, she takes a breath: the alarm fades, but the concern deepens.

“What’s wrong? Did something—” Farah interrupts herself, purses her lips and waits for Eva to answer.

Eva’s throat feels raw; her thoughts scrambled, paper-thin. Connecting them, stringing them into something so complicated as language seems a monumental, almost impossible task. Just the thought of it makes her throat start to close up again.

She shakes her head. “Don't want to talk about it.” Speaking hurts, physically—even more than she thought it would.

Farah nods, as though having been expecting it.

She knows her well, after all.

They all do.

Farah reaches out, slowly, and lets her hand hover just over Eva’s knee. She doesn't touch her, knows better than to touch her, but it's close enough that Eva feels the warmth through her clothes.

“Do you want me to just sit here with you for a while? We don't have to go back home yet.”

Eva barely manages to choke back a dry sob at the mention of home, but unexpected relief washes over her all the same. Relief and gratefulness to Farah for putting into words what she certainly wouldn't have been able to think of. Not now.

She gives a quick nod. “Please,” she croaks.

Farah attempts a smile that manages to be warm despite the evident strain in it. She moves then, with a grace that Eva has envied before and which makes something in her chest constrict now, to settle more comfortably on the floor, legs crossed under her, facing Eva.

“Then we’re not going anywhere until you say so,” she says.

Soothing. Calming. Farah always knows how to be comforting.

“Thank you,” Eva sighs. Farah hums her assent.

With her here, real and solid in front of Eva, the red smoke and the crashing sounds and the voices seem to fade little by little into what they are: a distant memory, years old by now. Not real. Not something that can hurt her now.

(Except it lives under her skin, the consequence of it, the result of it, she’ll never be free of it—

Stop.

Stop, stop, stop.

Stop that thought dead in its tracks.)

A while later, Eva’s breathing still hasn’t gone back to normal. It’s still quick and ragged, shallow.

“Hey,” Farah speaks quietly, a low whisper that barely breaks the silence.

She waits for Eva to open her eyes—when had she closed them? How long has it been?—before speaking again.

“Give me your hands?” She says it as one would a question, extending her own, palms facing up.

Eva hesitates for a second—but only for a second.

The hesitation is instinctive, but the action is conscious. She places her hands in Farah’s, and Farah smiles at her.

With the warmth of the touch she’s reminded of the few times she’s done this before, in other circumstances.

Farah taking her hands and teaching her to dance, despite her initial, half-hearted protests.

Farah dragging her to celebrate her birthday because it was on the same day as hers and of course they needed a celebration; no, sneaking away with Nate to the library did not count, what part of it’s our birthday and we should have a party did she not understand?

Farah helping her stand up after a bad injury she’d sustained during a mission, the fear in her eyes eclipsed by the quick resolve to get her away.

She’s reminded of this, of all this. Of Farah’s liveliness and warmth but also of the way she always seems to understand how she feels, long before words are spoken.

Eva doesn’t quite manage to return Farah’s smile, but her lips twitch a little.

“Good,” Farah says. Her thumbs rub circles on the palms of Eva’s hands, and something soft in her eyes seems to make them glow golden, brighter than their usual amber. Something soft and sad and old, because as young as Farah seems, Eva is all too acutely aware (especially now, especially here, with a sting that doesn’t seem to go away) that she is still close to three times her age.

“Breathe with me?” Farah asks, before Eva’s thoughts can spiral too far in that direction.

Eva nods.

Farah breathes. Eva breathes.

It’s a deeper breath than any she’s taken since she got here.

They spend a while like this, until exhaustion finally settles in, weary and bone-deep. Until she’s staying here out of pure stubbornness, and when Farah quietly asks “home?” Eva does nothing but squeeze her hand and nod.

—

She tries then, she tries to adjust to the new information.

To move forward.

It’s what she’s always done. It’s the only thing that can be done.

She lets the rest of Unit Bravo know about the results (thinks for half a second about not saying anything, but she could never hide anything like this from them) and then refuses to discuss them at all.

It is what it is. If there is nothing that can be done to change it—and it has been made very clear to her that there is nothing that can be done, not about this—then there is no point in wasting time and energy thinking about it.

Because if she starts thinking about it, she’s not sure what she will do.

If she starts thinking about it, it’ll be back to the apartment, back to the rain, back to that other warehouse.

And if she starts thinking about it, she’s going to have to think about how all the reasons she had for wanting to turn in the first place are still there. They have not gone anywhere, except that now she has no way to deal with them.

She’s not sure if she feels numb or if she only wishes she did.

She thinks about it, anyway, whenever her gaze falls on the faint, jagged marks on her wrist, paler than the light brown of her skin.

For years she’d almost forget the scar was there, the memories associated with it pushed back to the deep corners of her mind. Now it seems to exert a gravitational pull of its own, drawing her sight to it without her permission.

She thinks about it whenever she remembers—and she remembers it often these days, can’t seem to pull the thought from her mind—that the blood in her veins is not her own. The whole of her body has been made into a foreign object; unrecognizable, enactor of violence upon itself.

The nightmares are worse than they’ve ever been.

—

It takes three days for Nate to bring it up: he’d been waiting for her to do it first.

He does it as gently as ever, as softly as ever. With a kiss to her forehead and hands seeking her skin, brushing down her arms. Perhaps hoping his touch would soothe the sting.

He seems almost apologetic, as though she could break at any moment.

Who’s to say she won’t?

“Joonam,” he whispers. “Will you tell me what’s on your mind?”

(Joonam, he calls her.

He calls her many things in many different languages, but this is the one he always, always comes back to.

Mi vida, she calls him.

Not as often as he does—she was never one for pet names—but often enough.

The thought forms before she can crush it: it seems almost cruel, now, that they’ve dug so deep to call each other my life when he will outlive her by an infinite amount.)

And the look in his eyes makes her want to cry all over again. He’s pleading with her, keeping the emotion from his voice but it’s clear in the way he looks at her.

Fuck, this won’t work.

She can’t keep doing this. She can’t do what she always does, not with this.

Because being with Nate has never been easy.

It has been many things—it has been love and passion and comfort and truth, but it has never been easy or painless. It has never been natural or effortless or uncomplicated.

They don’t fit together like that.

What it has been is a choice, constant and conscious. A choice to go against her instincts—her instincts that tell her to hide, to never stop moving, to raze what’s left and never look back—and open herself up in ways that leave her raw and exposed but so vibrantly, painfully alive.

(A choice that she’d been willing to make for the rest of eternity, even if it never got easier.

A choice that he makes for her, too.)

Poke around in the wound to dig the bullet out.

Her instincts tell her to pull back, and there are words on the tip of her tongue that she swallows down.

Slowly, she takes one of his hands in hers, brings it to her mouth to brush a delicate kiss against his knuckles.

“I will,” she says, eyes closed. If she opens them the words might not come out. “We’ll talk about it, I promise. Just—give me a little time, please. Just a little time.”

Nate breathes out a sigh that sounds like relief drowned in concern.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything you need.”

—

The water in the bathtub has cooled around them; the steam dissipated long ago.

Even in the cooling air, they have not moved in a while: Eva leans back against Nate’s chest with her eyes closed, his arms wrapped loosely around her as he presses sweet, barely-there kisses to the birthmarks on her shoulders. He follows paths he has mapped and memorized countless times before, ones that feel familiar on her skin.

Ones that should be soothing.

As slowly as ever, Nate lets his kisses trail up the side of her neck. They are soft, featherlight; his lips ghost over the multiple marks that have accumulated there before lavishing her with an attention that makes her shiver.

For the longest time, this was something he would not allow himself.

For the longest time, he would shy away from Eva’s neck as though burnt, and the first time he let her see the fear in his eyes as his fingertips traced the line of her throat is a moment that remains imprinted on her mind.

(She took his hand and pressed it more firmly against the side of her neck, against the beating pulse there. Gentle, almost as gentle as he always was with her—and always offering him the choice to draw back. He almost stopped breathing, but his eyes never left hers, and that single instant stretched out into moments, into something she still struggles to name.)

A lifetime seems to have passed since then.

He does not shy away from it now. Not now.

“I wish we could stay like this,” Eva murmurs.

Just this, right here.

A single moment, endless. One where nothing else matters or even exists. One where the thoughts that have been plaguing her have no power or importance.

“We can,” Nate whispers in return. His breath is warm, still close to her skin, and he follows it with another kiss directly over her pulse. “As long as you want to.”

She lets out a sigh. It would be so easy.

God, so easy.

So easy it’s terrifying.

The temptation to never talk about it again hasn’t gone away.

But thoughts become corrosive. They seep into every last piece of her sanity that she’s tried to keep safe. Into every dream and every waking moment until nothing, nothing remains untainted.

The way she flinches when she sees the scar, when she barely paid attention to it before. The way she looks at herself in the mirror and finds flaws she hadn’t noticed, the way she sometimes wants nothing more than to open her skin and drain out the blood to get it all out. Maybe that would help.

No, it would not be that easy.

“Not that long,” she forces herself to say. The words are always stuck in her throat, and they will not come out on their own. “Not forever.”

Nate’s kisses stop, and the briefest moment of tension tightens his embrace—something Eva might not have noticed if she didn’t know him like she does. But he speaks into the crook of her neck, tenderness the only thing in the softness of his voice. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

It has only been a few days since he’d mentioned it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to talk about it,” Eva admits. “But I have to stop acting like it’s something we don’t have to talk about.”

She sighs again, sinking further against him. Her own hands come to rest on his arms, wrapping them more tightly around her. “I just don’t know what to do. Where do we go from here?”

Nate hums, a soft sound she’s come to recognize as a contradictory mix of subtle exasperation and patience, tempered by love and concern. She’s been on the receiving end of it more than a few times. “We’ll get to that part. Let’s take it one thing at a time.”

Unspoken: For now, just tell me how you feel.

Also unspoken (because it has been spoken too many times): You don’t have to solve everything by yourself. You don’t have to solve everything right away.

He knows her too well.

It makes her want to cry, that he knows her this well.

“I just never thought about this.” Didn’t think it wouldn’t work. “I didn’t even consider it.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Small. So fucking defeated.

Because if she can’t do anything—

“None of us did,” Nate says, and that cuts deep, too.

He does not have defeat in his voice like she does, but the barely concealed pain is enough to make her eyes sting.

The fact that he’s trying to conceal it at all.

For her sake.

Dammit, Nate.

Because if she can’t do anything, then what’s left?

(“Nate, I don't get to have a normal life.” She’d been trying not to raise her voice, to rein in the tremor in her words. Trying, and failing. “Not with this blood, not with these scars. Not with everything that's happened to me already. Do you think anyone can be normal after that?”

One of the many times they’d argued about this. He had tried, wanted to show her value in humanity that she could never see.

He’d turn back, he’d choose to be human, to be mortal, if only he could.

“Even if I could have that,” she’d added, more quietly. “I don’t want it. If this all went away, what do you think would be left of me?”)

She shifts in his arms, turns around until she can face him.

“I wanted this, Nate.” She lifts a hand to close her fingers around the pendant that hangs from her neck, the one she never takes off, the one he gave her. She closes them so tightly her nails dig into her palm. “I wanted us, like this, forever. I wanted it so much I don’t know how to be anything else anymore. Nothing else makes sense even if I try.”

Nate covers her hand with his own, both closed around the pendant. He hesitates before speaking, examining her with eyes that betray the depth of feeling in them, but eventually, he does. “I know nothing can dull the pain of having the choice taken from you,” he says, careful, too careful. He’s been through this. “I know that. I would give everything I have to spare you that hurt.”

“But I’m—” A soft breath escapes his lips, something that is not intentional, something that is far less controlled. “I’m not going anywhere. I will make that promise a thousand times over. It will still be… it can still be forever, for you. You still have us. You still have me.”

“And you’ll just watch? You’ll watch me get older, weaker, god knows what else? You’ll be okay with that? With watching me die?”

The questions leave her mouth like bullets, one after the other.

Harsh. Too raw. The things neither of them wants to hear.

She’s the one panicking, now.

She’s said this before.

And Nate flinches, flinches at the bluntness of it—she wants to take it back at that, even when she knows it has to be said—but it does not make his voice waver when he speaks. “I love you,” he says, as though that answers all her questions. “Nothing can change that. Every second you’ve chosen to give me has been something precious, something I have treasured, and it will continue to be, no matter what.”

One of his hands moves to tangle in the wet locks of her hair. To hold her in place, staring into the depth of his brown eyes, eyes that reflect back the same hurt she feels even if he will not say it.

“Before we talked about this, before you decided to turn, I—I knew I might not have you forever. I didn’t dare to hope I would, didn’t dare to think of it. But loving you is worth any pain that might come from it.”

Her throat constricts, and the emotion in Nate’s voice dulls the edge she’d imparted to her words. Of course Nate would say this. Of course he would think this, would feel this.

He would break himself to keep her.

He would break himself for her, without even a hint of hesitation.

(I won’t do that to you. She’d said that.)

She looks away, blinking to get rid of the tears that prickle at her eyes. She fixes her stare on the edge of the bathtub: gleaming, burnished copper misted over with condensation.

Instead of following that line of thought—she doesn’t trust herself to—she grasps at something else. Something that stabs with equal force at her chest.

It sounds like someone else speaking when she says, “I don’t want to be less than you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way he frowns.

“Being human doesn't make you less, Eva.” Nate is resolute, his voice firm even in its warmth, echoes of a recurring argument neither of them had ever won.

“But it does,” she counters, voice cracking and desperate, turning her face back to meet his eyes. “Don’t you see it? It does, and it will always feel that way. I already have to try so hard just to keep up. What happens when I can’t anymore? What happens when my body gives up, when I'm too slow, too weak to go on missions?”

Why won’t he see it?

She has tried. Tried to make up for her lack of abilities, for her humanity. She has tried to attenuate it, to make sure it does not become a burden.

She has learned combat from Morgan and Adam, spent hours upon hours in the training room with them until she can barely stand, until Adam smiles at her after a well-placed hit, until Morgan throws a towel for her to catch and there’s nothing but pride in the look she gives her.

She has studied the supernatural world in every way she can; submerged herself in it, let it coat every cell of her body and every neuron in her brain.

It is what she breathes.

And she’s been forced out of it.

“That still wouldn’t make you less, nothing could.” The affection, the love in his voice burns. “There is so much more to you than what you can do.”

She shakes her head.

“I swore I wouldn’t be a burden to this team. And you know how I am, Nate, I couldn’t bear—I don’t want to get left behind. And I will. You’ll keep on being who you are and I… won’t.”

The tears aren’t pricking at her eyes anymore. They are falling.

The words aren’t stuck in her throat anymore.

“Everything I told you I didn’t want, all of it, that’s going to happen and there’s nothing I can do about it. And I have this thing inside me that’s making it all happen and my body isn’t mine anymore. I don’t get a say in any of it.”

She leans forward to rest her head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his touch even when it won’t, it can’t be enough. Not for this.

She is instantly enveloped in his arms, drawing her closer against him.

“I’m sorry, mi vida,” she whispers against his skin. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he answers, quiet, almost too quiet, into her hair.

And there is a thought.

Because if there is nothing she can do—

But this is one she refuses to even entertain. To acknowledge.

I won’t do that to you.

She’d said that.

[griffin-wood]

masterlist

— writing

*the wayhaven chronicles.

* surprises of the night (adam du mortain x f!detective)

* just for a moment (adam du mortain x f!detective)

* the fairytales of life (nate sewell x f!detective)

* wish upon the sky of airplanes (felix hauville x f!detective)

WAYHAVENSUMMER fics ✨

* conversation and cupcakes (adam du Mortain x f!detective)

* the cuddling playlist (Felix hauville x f! detective)

* fun in flower crowns (adam du mortain x f!detective)

* all's well that end's well (adam x lya, nate x liliana, naya x mason, felix x irene)

*mindblind

* déjà vu (nick wiseman, maia wiseman)

* the little things ( maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*daisies (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*silent moments with you (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*relief (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*mornings (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*untitled snippet (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*kaia shenanigans - something just like this (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

* arms open (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

* you drew stars around my scars (maia wiseman x kent zarneki )

* this side of paradise (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*drives and dumb conversations chasing daylight (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

* lover (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

* late nights (daphne wiseman x grayson black for @/wayhavenots)

* a fort-filled day (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*a battle between paws (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*calm within the storm (maia wiseman x kent zarneki)

*behind the scenes (maia wiseman x kaia zarneki. ft. nick, sally, taliaferro parker)

*almost is never enough (nick wiseman x naya davis)

*would you run away with me? (kent zarneki x maia wiseman)

*the little wins (kent zarneki x maia wiseman)

*a warm treat (kent zarneki x maia wiseman)

*body count

* longing (raylene gray x charlie ngata)

* when I look at you (raylene gray x griffin wood)

* leave it all behind because there's happiness (raylene gray x arthur Campbell)

*impromptu disney movie night (raylene gray x arthur Campbell)

* letting loose (raylene gray x griffin wood)

* enchanted (raylene gray x charlie ngata)

*night talks (raylene gray x griffin wood)

*the cure (raylene gray x arthur campbell)

*when twilight strikes

*happy birthday mina! (silvia barlowe + mina morganthau)

*random

*move forward

— writing: ockiss22/oc pairings.

*debut (raylene gray x kendall lawton)

*the first step (elin x max)

*don't need another perfect lie, I gotta give all my secrets away (naya davis x rider mcqueen)

*our tunes (nelly greywood x daniel lin)

*tender skies (ella wiseman x elliot reynolds)

*old reminders to new memories, just how it should be. ( naya davis x rider mcqueen)

— writing: ockiss23/oc pairings.

*nights with you (elin x max)

*lil trinkets and new beginnings (nelly greywood x daniel lin)

*carpe noctem (ella x elliot)

*lavender haze (kendall lawton x raylene gray)

*lil mundane moments ( daniel lin x nelly greywood)

*moments in between (rider mcqueen x naya davis)

*i'll give you the best years (rider McQueen x naya davis)

— moodboards

* Raylene Gray (Body Count)

* Elliot Reynolds (Body Count)

* Raylene Gray (updated moodboard) (Body Count)

* Nick Wiseman (mind blind)

* x: I was enchanted to meet you. (AU: mind blind)

— edits.

1) Silvia Barlowe's Instagram (When Twilight Strikes)

2) Body Count MC's edit (body count)

3) Button's compilation (mindblind)

4) novaturient mc edit (novaturient)

5) Maia Wiseman's Instagram (mind blind)

6) Raylene Gray's pairings playlist (body count)

7) Maia x Nikolas (when twilight strikes)

8) Maia & Elin (for @/indorilnerevarine) (mind blind)

9) Raylene Gray's phone. (body count AU)

10) hunters x music. (when twilight strikes)

— meet my mc.

1) Maia Wiseman (mind blind.)

2) Lya Toriezze (the wayhaven chronicles)

3) Raylene Gray (body count)

4) Elliot Reynolds (body count)

5) Irene Leyva (body count)

6) Silvia Barlowe (when twilight strikes)

7) Iris La Cour (when twilight strikes)

8) Tamara Webb (novaturient)

9) Naya Davis (novaturient, twc)

10) Ryan Miller (body count)

11) Nixon Linnette (the exile)

[gloynporslen]

I am not an artist myself in any sense, but I still wish my dear cariad Nate H. Sewell (and of course his counterpart, Nat) a happy birthday 💕

(shown via multiple commissions of him and my detective collected over the years 💕)

(Now that I'm finally back at my computer, links to the fabulous artists. Top Left. Bottom Left. Right. 💕)

[agentnolastname]

This Year's Christmas

Agent Nate Sewell x Detective Alexis Kirigun (F!OC)

Prompt: Alexis' birthday this year is a little different than the other ones before, and it's quite special.

Note: Hello! Today is one of my detectives' birthday so I've written this very short drabble of her and Nate.

Word Count: ~600

Summary:

"You all remember?!" She says, eyes sparkling as she grins looking around the room where she saw Unit Bravo and Rebecca. One vampire smiles and walks toward her. The man had immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course," Nate says, placing a quick but gentle kiss on her forehead, 'Happy birthday, darling."

***

"Oh, shit! It's already eleven."

Alexis immediately closed her computer, signing the last of the paperworks before she places it on the drawer. No, she can't be late for midnight. Not when she promised everyone that she will be there for christmas eve. She locks her office and made sure that everything in the station had already been turned off Once she's done, she sighs as she finally heads out of the station.

Her car isn't the fastest in town, so she's glad that the streets are now empty. No traffic will delay her at this time. Driving as fast as she can, she arrived at the warehouse at exactly 11:45.

I didn't even know supernaturals celebrate holidays!

Shrugging, she made her way into the warehouse, using the spare key Nate had given her before. Opening the wooden doors of the common room, Alexis yelled, her voice cheery as it always is, 'Merry Christmas, Everyone!"

She was expecting to see a christmas tree, and true enough a tall tree stands at the corner of the room. Red and Golden trinkets hanged in its branches making it look like a very grand tree kids would very much like to take a picture in, but it isn't what actually caught her attention.

Her eyes immediately landed on the words on the wall. Frankly, she was expecting to see the words 'Have a jolly, merry christmas' written in there as Farah kept on singing it a day ago. But instead, there are green sparkly letters plastered on the wall, her eyes lit upon the sight of it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX

"You all remember?!" She says, eyes sparkling as she grins looking around the room where she saw Unit Bravo, and Rebecca. One vampire smiles and walks toward her. The man had immediately wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course," Nate says, placing a quick but gentle kiss on her forehead. "Happy birthday, darling."

"You sneaky asses! This is why you never let me sleep here last night!" Alexis says, amazement still evident in her expression. She noticed even Morgan has a slight smile on her face. Their eyes met, and they just nodded at each other. Then her eyes went to the man standing in front of her with a very warm smile on his face, "And you! Oh my god, you– I love you." she says, almost breathless because of the excitement on her chest. Also because they both are standing so close with each other, and she just wants to kiss the hell out of him.

And maybe that is what she needed.

So she leaned in, leaving a quick peck on his lips. And another. Then another. Until Nate decided that it's enough, he pressed his lips on her longer this time, a long but gentle kiss. Then he breaks it, only to say something in between their heavy breaths, "I love you."

"Ooh, not so proprietary now Nate, are we?" Farah teased. And everyone else in the room snorts. "Detective! We helped with the preparations too, you know!"

"I know, and I thank you guys for everything. I really thought we would be just celebrating Christmas." Alexis says and smiles at everyone. "How about we eat now?"

"I agree!" Farah says, and immediately grabs a wine glass filled with blood.

Alexis turns her attention to Nate once again, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Later then?"

"Hmm, later." With this, they joined the others to sit on the couch.

END.

Taglist: @anotherbeingsworld @bisexualdumbassstuff @blossomanarchy @freckles-spangledvampire @nathanielhsewell @pearlsandsteel @starrystarrytrouble @temptress-of-death-and-desire ( hello! please tell me if you wanted to be added or removed from the twc-related content taglist ♡ )

[agentnatesewell]

Happy Birthday, N Sewell!

Thank you @nerdferatum for the beautiful art of Agents Nate and Nat Sewell!

[queen-scribbles]

Distracting

@storyknitter​ you are 100% correct, which means it’s Absolutely Besotted Nate Sewell hours GO

(8. laying a gentle kiss on the back of the other’s hand)

---

Very few things could distract Nate from reading. Newly settled at the top of that short list was a certain quiet, redheaded detective he was fairly certain remained unaware just how distracting her freckles and warm smile and enchantingly deep blue eyes actually were. 

Deep blue eyes that were currently closed as AJ napped on the couch, one arm flung over her head and her sock-clad feet braced against the side of Nate’s leg. She’d mentioned having a long day at work and apparently--once again--that was an understatement. She’d barely made it a handful of pages into her book before starting to drift off. While Nate wouldn’t have minded in the slightest serving as her pillow, the fact she’d curled over the other way as she succumbed to slumber gave him a much better view.

One that kept pulling his eyes away from the page every few words. The sight of Abigail so settled and comfortable, loose curls of hair drifting across her face as she slept, was adorable. And more than a little distracting. Every so often she would hum or mumble nonsense syllables and the clearly pleasant bent of her dreams made him smile.

Nate was on the verge of giving up his attempts to focus on his book when AJ’s brow furrowed. Slightly at first, but quickly deeper.

“No,” she mumbled, shifting with obvious unease, “g’way.” She swung her arm down in a half-hearted defensive arc before she hugged both arms close to her chest protectively. One leg curled in as well, the other kicking out to flop across Nate’s lap.

He dropped his book on the table, not bothering to mark his page, and rested one hand lightly on her shin. “AJ.”

She didn’t seem to hear him, muttering nonsense as she yanked that leg in as well. She kicked out with both feet, just grazing his hip as he moved to kneel next to the couch instead of sitting on it.

“AJ,” Nate, repeated, concern furrowing his brow as he swept the loose curls back from her face. She was pale enough to make her freckles stand out all the more sharply, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek at the sight.

She whimpered, jerking away from the contact, and his heart squeezed at the memory of her confession what happened with Murphy still lingered in her thoughts. Her dreams. “I don’t suppose, in our line of work, I’m likely to get away without some kind of nightmares.”She’d tried to sound brave about it, but he’d seen the look in her eyes.

“I wish I could say you would. I truly do.”  The sentiment was as true now as when he’d first said it. Nate moved his hand down to her arm, held gentle but firm when she started to buck away. “Abigail, it’s me.”

She stilled, but her face remained screwed up in fear. He shifted his hand ever so slightly and she recoiled with enough force to slam her elbow into the back of the couch. Something about the impact broke her nightmare’s hold on her; dark blue eyes snapping open, full of terrified panic as they met his gaze, and she bolted half-upright with a harsh gasp.

“You’re safe,” Nate promised softly, moving to sit next to her and brushing the curls back again when they fell in her eyes.

“Nate?” Her voice sounded so small. She caught his hand as he started to pull back, held it tight.

“I’m here,” he assured her, lacing his fingers between hers and pulling her hand closer so he could kiss the palm. “It was just a dream.” He hesitated. “Another one about Murphy?”

“Good guess,” AJ nodded, her attempt at a wry laugh coming out far more like a sob. “He...got away, with me, took me somewhere he” --she shuddered--”wouldn’t have t’ share, an’ I-I knew you were lookin’ for me, but you couldn’t... couldn’t...”

“Come here.” Nate gave her hand a gentle tug, but waited for her to start moving toward him to pull her into his lap, her back to his chest as he held her close.  “That was a dream,” he murmured, panic welling in his own throat at the mere thought of it becoming reality. “Murphy doesn’t have you. You escaped all on your own.” Because you’re just that amazing. He tightened his grip briefly, one arm around her waist and the other her shoulders. AJ rested her hands on his arm as he relaxed his grip and continued,” We did find you. You’re fine” --he wondered if she caught the hitch to his voice at the memory of when she wasn’t--”and everything’s alright.”

“Except Murphy got away,” AJ muttered.

Except that, Nate conceded silently. He hugged her closer, kissed her temple.  “He’s not going to get you.”

“You won’t let him,” she said softly, and tilted her head to kiss the back of his hand as it gripped her shoulder.

“Never,” he promised, and finally sensed her racing heart start to slow. “None of us will.”

AJ nodded and relaxed back against his chest. The silence stretched, her thumbs rubbing small arcs against his arm, but her breath stayed shaky, even as the adrenaline faded.

“AJ,” Nate began, letting his grip go slack so both arms now wrapped loosely around her waist. “Why don’t your socks match?” It was both a way to distract her and genuine curiosity.

She giggled, and though the sound still shook a little, it was definitely lighter.  “Oh. Yesterday was laundry day an’ I haven’t had a chance t’ put things away yet.” She curled her toes and examined the socks, the left one pale pink with white hearts and the right lavender with white flowers. “I match pairs as I put ‘em in the drawer. I left in a hurry this mornin’, so I just grabbed two without lookin’ if they matched.”

He smiled and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I see.”

“I’ve done it on purpose before,” she admitted, leaning her head against his. “But t’day was just bein’ in a rush.”

His smile widened--that did sound like her--and he took her hand in his, palm to back, lacing their fingers together and rubbing his thumb back and forth over hers. “You’ve been in a rush a lot lately.”

Abigail shrugged. “Paperwork at m’day job doesn’t go away just b’cause we” --she squeezed his hand--”aren’t dealin’ with a crisis. I’m just tryin’ t’ keep up.”

Nate laughed. “A fair point. Would coffee help with that?”

“I mean, I’m done for th’ day, but you know I never turn down coffee,” she said with a smile. It actually reached her eyes and internally Nate breathed a sigh of relief. Rather than hop to her feet, however, AJ twisted to be sideways in his lap, freeing her hand so she could rest both on his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his shirt collar as she met his gaze. “Nate?”

“Yes, Abigail?” he said softly.

“Thank you. For distractin’ me.” One hand slid up to rest along his jaw and Nate could barely breathe. “It helped a lot.”

“I’m glad,” he managed, voice little more than a hoarse whisper. I hate seeing you like that.

AJ smiled, wide and warm, but he only got to enjoy the sight for a heartbeat before she leaned in to kiss him, her hands briefly lingering against his jaw on their way further back to dig into his hair, and Nate couldn’t breathe(not that he needed to. But the sentiment held).

His grip on her waist tightened by instinct, one thumb just edging under her shirt to graze the skin. (He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, caught up in the moment as he was.) AJ hummed a short, happy sound and pressed briefly deeper into the kiss before breaking it.

“I don’t believe it,” she said drolly as she sat back enough to meet his eyes, breathless and with her arms still loosely around his neck.

“What?” Nate asked, arching a brow and trying not to dwell on the deep warmth in his chest at the mildly disoriented look in her eyes.

“No interruption.” She grinned. “No Felix or Mason or Mum with the worst timin’ known to man, no emergencies...”

Nate laughed softly. “It does appear the curse is broken.”

Abigail chuckled, then her expression softened as she studied his face. She raised one hand to trace her fingers from his brow to cheek to jaw, her thumb rubbing against his skin when she stopped, and murmured, “You make a very good distraction from whatever my nightmares throw at me, Agent Sewell.”

He smiled and reached over to tuck the wayward curls behind her ear. “Happy to help anytime you need me, Detective Jenings,” he returned just as quietly, before leaning in for another kiss.

This time their lips had barely met when his phone buzzed and Nate broke away with a growl. He’d never wanted to throw the thing across the room as badly as he did just then.

“Spoke too soon, it seems,” he groaned instead.

AJ giggled. “Maybe it’s like birthday wishes, yeah? Y’talk about it, it won’t come true.” She kissed him on the cheek and slid (reluctantly, if he was any judge) off his lap. “I’ll take an IOU on the coffee ‘case whatever that is is important.”

While he couldn’t really think of anything more important than her, she did have a point. But he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

Nate caught her hand before she could step out of reach, and AJ turned back to him with a smile that said she had a good guess where this was going. She was right, of course, and he couldn’t help matching her smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. She bit her lip, as she usually did, and went just a little red(also usual). But then she curled her hand tighter into his and tugged so he’d stand. She hugged him, head tucked under his chin, then stepped back.

“Remember you owe me coffee,” she said with a smile as she plunked down on the couch and reached for her boots.

“Little fear I’ll forget that,” Nate chuckled. He ran one hand through his hair and turned to leave-

Only for AJ to grab his other hand and bring it to her lips, brushing a quick, soft kiss against his knuckles and then dropping it in one smooth motion.

“I see why you like doin’ that,” she mumbled, face definitely the same color as her hair now.

Nate bit back the threatening laugh for fear she’d take it the wrong way.  “Abigail-”

His phone buzzed again.

She cleared her throat. “You should go see what they want.” A bashful smile.  “Before they come lookin’ And I should head home, anyway.”

The truth of the statement didn’t make him like it any more. “We can at least walk part of the way together, then.”

“That we can,” she agreed.

He wound up walking her all the way to her car without even realizing it. She was, after all,  very distracting.

[anotherbeingsworld]

It's totally okay if this is too many but... 1, 3, and 42 for all your detectives (and also Casey if you want)?

Hi anon! Thank you for sending in, and it’s not too much; I hope it can fulfill some answers to those asks!  

1. Age, Birthday, Star Sign

Lya Toriezze: 24, October 6th, Libra

Irene Leyva: 22, December 24rd, Capricorn

Rose Weaver: 24, August 2nd, Leo

Liliana Brooks: 25, January 23rd, Capricorn

Casey Valentine: 26, February 10th, Aquarius 

3. Orientation and Relationship status (single, taken (by who?), crush (on who?))

Lya Toriezze: Straight, single (waiting for a certain commanding agent :’)) 

Irene Leyva: Straight, taken by one Felix Hauville and they are really happy <3

Rose Weaver: Straight, she is stuck in the love triangle between Nate and Adam. Quite confused and in pain. 

Liliana Brooks: Straight, and she is still single (since i haven’t finished her playthrough yet!) , but she is utterly and helplessly in love with one Nathaniel Henry Sewell. 

Casey Valentine: Straight, she is in my mind are official with her true love Dr. Bryce Lahela. In my mind, they already said the three words. 

42. What’s the dumbest thing your character’s done?

Lya Toriezze: honestly, Lya would consider being shy in school and life is one of the dumbest thing she has ever done! She still regrets it but, she is trying to do better by being apart of UB! 

Irene Leyva: Honestly, she never has done a dumb thing unless she admits it! She is a fun gal, and if having fun is dumb, she would be happy with it! 

Rose Weaver: When it comes to dumbest thing, is letting herself feel pain in the LT route. She is indesicive and, she regrets it now. 

Liliana Brooks: She would look back on her early memories with the UB, and cringe at her reaction towards the revolution of vampires after working with them closely. (she almost peed her pants over it... and it feels cringe to her everytime felix brought it up) She feels like fear is something dumb in her way, and she tries to not be scared and well... grow everyday! Somehow, it would backfire since Felix loves to tease her a lot with surprises of all sorts! 

From this ask! 

[agentnatesewell]

Happy birthday, Agent Sewell !

Thank you thank you to the ever wonderful @losingface for this gorgeous commission of Nate and Suri!