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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 5 years

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Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 3

Woo, thank you so much to @waiting4inspiration for hositing this 2k follower challenge, this has been really fun, so heads up there’s a little lemony smutty good good at the end. I didn’t go “whole hog” just in case those who are uncomfortable with it but like the story don’t have to bleach their eyes after reading it, I *tried* to be discreet. But if that’s wanted HO BOY. Part 4 man...whew lordy. Also Part 4 has ANGST.

So here is Part 1 and Part 2 and then part three is down below, enjoy.

Part 3

Once you got there however, you looked at Ivar the Boneless’ wife, Freydis and her very pregnant belly as they walked together in the market and your heart broke. Your contacts were able to see past the skin of her belly to see the baby in her womb and the readout in your contacts told you that the child would be born crippled like his father and Ivar would probably abandon the baby in the woods as was the custom which would turn his wife against him which would spell disaster to Kettegat and Bjorn would be killed when Kettegat would implode. You needed to get Bjorn out of here, but not until you could save that baby. You knew you could heal him and make him well. And if nothing else, you were going to bring him home and adopt him, that was not forbidden by The Order, many Ladies had adopted children on their missions or even Bjorn could adopt him with his future wife, as soon as you figured out who she was and introduced him to her which the sooner than happened the better because you were in danger of becoming too close to him emotionally, that neural link was much stronger than any other you had set up and it breeded a familiarity and a closeness that both thrilled you and made you nervous because you were now flirting with the ‘do not cross’ lines set out in The Code. But still, you couldn’t explain why your heart went out to the babe in Freydis’ belly but you couldn’t deny your strong feelings for it.

That night as Bjorn took you to his small and humble home and used your own tent to provide shelter for you- next to his house, the tent joining with his house so that you could walk through one into the other like it was an addition to the house although now that you were home, Bjorn felt more at home in your tent than in his own house now.

But tonight he saw that even in your horse form, you were downcast but you were hiding your thoughts from him but your distraught feelings seemed to bleed into him. He closed the tent which transformed the inside to your home away from home and you instantly transformed into yourself as you went into auto pilot and made both of you something to eat.

“What’s wrong Astrid?” Bjorn asked as he came to stand by you and helped you try to prepare the meal as you just shook your head from your swirling thoughts.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” You whispered as you slowly peeled some apples while he peeled potatoes.

“Do you have to leave me now? Now that I’m home?” He asked worriedly.

“No, not yet, your path isn’t here, it’s southeast of here.” You shook your head as you focused on the apple in your hand and slowly slicing it now that it was peeled.

“You could try telling me, I’ll do my best to understand.” He offered because this was the first time he had ever seen you so down and it bothered him greatly. LIke your frown was crushing his heart and making it feel like he couldn't breathe.

“Freydis is carrying a son.” You informed him solemnly, your words barely above a whisper.

“That’s... good.” Bjorn nodded but frowned in confusion as to why that would sadden you, were you jealous? If you were, he could fix that, immediately if need be. Surely you couldn’t go back to Odin and back to Asgard if you were carrying his child. Could you? He was afraid to ask. It had surprised him how once you both came to an understanding, how at ease you were around each other and how easy it was to be around you to the point he missed you when not by your side.

“No, it’s not good, he’s lame and a cripple like his father, but more-so, he’s...he’s deformed to what Ivar feels is a hideous degree, the baby will not live long unless I intervene, Ivar’s going to abandon the babe in the forest for it because he would rather that baby die helpless in the forest than live like he has lived. He thinks that cruelty is mercy, which to him, it is. What he doesn’t know is it will absolutely destroy Freydis and she will die getting vengeance for her son, all because Freydis has filled Ivar with a twisted saying and led him to believe that he’s a god, which he isn’t, but because he believes that, he feels the baby proves he isn’t, which is true. It’s going to be his downfall and start to destroy everything he’s built. I know you’re used to this custom but I am not. Back home in Neveah, we do not abandon those who are born different. Because they are usually born with other gifts that are very desirable and differences are celebrated rather than looked down on or feared. It is unthinkable and detestable for us to do such a thing, especially to a helpless baby.” You revealed as you shook your head as tears flooded your vision as you felt your heart break at the thought before your resolve formed within you and found a solid footing.

“We need to leave this place as soon as possible, preferably a day or two, but not more than a week after Ivar does abandon the babe because Freydis will start looking jealously at every babe she sees and if he’s discovered, or I’m discovered they’ll demand that I heal Ivar, but if I do, that will change everything. Odin will disavow me and everything I do, everything I’ve ever done, could or probably will be- undone, like pulling the yarn from a sweater you’re knitting, it’ll all unravel and I won’t have his protections because they’ll be lifted and I’ll be stripped of all my powers and abilities and everything that makes me what I am and I’ll be stranded here and I’ll never be able to go home, I’ll be put to death as a witch or whatever, they could come after you which if they do, I’ve failed my mission and best case scenario is I’m replaced, the worst case is we both die. But I can’t ignore this pull in my heart and my soul towards the baby. And part of me doesn’t care if I overstep my bounds, if it’s just to protect the baby, ..Seph...Frigga would understand. I’m turning into a hawk or a wolf or whatever I have to turn into and I’m saving that baby, I’ll take him home with me when I have to leave you, my medicine can cure him as soon as I can take him into my custody. Because what Ivar can’t see is that baby has more potential for greatness than Ivar could ever dream of but he’s blinded by his own pain and illusion of divinity to see it.” You hissed defiantly as Bjorn lifted his arm and hugged you from the side before rubbing soothing circles into your back as he listened attentively.

“So we’re taking the babe with us when we go east then.” Bjorn couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of you being a mother thinking you were quite the picture of a mother bear protecting her cub just now. He liked it. He loved it actually. And he wasn’t helpless anymore. He could take care of you. He could build a new home for you, with him and he would do everything in his power to give you a home and a family so you wouldn’t feel homesick.

“Yes, but in order to nurse him and keep him publicly, I’ll just have to become your thrall, but it’s just for appearances. You won’t actually be my master.” You insisted as you turned and looked up at him with a determination in your eyes which made him smile. You were the epitome of a strong woman and he loved that.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Astrid.” Bjorn agreed as he kissed your forehead sweetly and hugged you tight as his grin grew just a little scheming. Oh he had a better idea than that.

Once Bjorn fell asleep you turned on the shield around his bed so that it was a sound proof barrier from you.

“This is H.L.S. Zulu Alpha Roger Alpha 0960 Coding in- Dragon.” You dialed before the screen popped up from your wrist’s device and it showed a face.

“Response positive, report 0960.” Morgan requested.

“Target is now at home, I set up and am maintaining a safe perimature, urging target to gather his crew and supplies to transport to drop off point ASAP. Requesting a detour.” You asked.

“Explain detour.” Morgan frowned in confusion.

“Ivar the Boneless’ wife, Freydis is about to have a baby boy. My scans show the baby is deformed and physically disabled and if and when Ivar follows customs, he will abandon the baby. Requesting permission to save the baby and heal and either rehouse or adopt personally.” You requested.

“One moment.” Morgan asked as she pulled up the histories and the Book of Destiny as her face betrayed no other emotion before she secured the channel so that your conversation would not be recorded or listened in on, that it would be private between just you and her.

“Zara, what’s going on? You’ve never asked for a detour before, why now?” Morgan asked which caused you to exhale in defeat.

“When I saw Freydis and my contacts x-rayed her and showed me her baby and then they ran that probabilities calculation, it was like a stab through the heart and a kick in the gut when they told me the baby would be abandoned just because it has brittle bone disease, his legs are deformed and his nose isn’t right but it is all well within the capabilities to heal. My heart broke when I read the outcome. I can’t...I can’t let that happen. It was like if the baby was mine and someone threatened to do that to my own child, I feel rage and abhorrance and I just...I fell in love with him instantly. So I’m not officially requesting a detour, I’m reporting a detour. Come hell or high water I am going to save that baby, heal him and raise him on my own if I have to and if Sephira wants to unravel me, she can and even if she wants to dump me here, I’m ok with that. He’s worth it, but even if she does unravel me, she does not get to unravel Bjorn or the baby.” You explained as your cried and wiped your tears away as you did your best to appear as determined as possible as Morgan gave you a sympathetic smile. She knew Sephira would make an exception for you . You were a High Lady of Sephira after all and were on her council for a reason. You were a stickler for the code but while The Code was in place for a reason, each Lady was free to interpret it how she felt was right for the situation and this fit in with the spirit of the code. So Morgan had no trouble at all approving this. Hell half of her own kids were products of this kind of “detour” and why she was no longer in field work because her hands were already full.

“Ok. Request granted. Welcome to motherhood, welcome to spit up, sleepless nights and poopy pants but getting paid in unconditional love, hugs and kisses.” Morgan grinned proudly since she was the mother of 4 herself as she ordered a dose of serum that would prompt lactation and really heighten your mother instincts so you could nurse said baby as well as downloaded into your journal all the baby care information she could and sent a second ‘home button’ disguised as a charm on a necklace, small enough to fit around the baby’s neck and would lock in the baby’s biometrics once it was put on.

“Anything else to report 0960?” Morgan asked officially as she opened the channel back up.

“No, thank you. End of report.” You answered as you smiled gratefully at her wiped your tears away.

“Over and out, report again when you leave Kettegat or if something goes sideways.” Morgan insisted as you suddenly felt the injection in your wrist before your breasts started to change already before you opened the back of your book to see the baby’s necklace in the process of materializing and smiled at the little silver hammer before you looked over suggested baby names. Dyre was at the top of the list. It was a boy’s name that meant- dear one. Perfect.

The next few days you spent doing little else but reading at home while Bjorn talked with the others to form a new settlement party for when you would go east including meeting with Ivar and others. Raiding parties were all about cramming as many warriors looking for loot as you could into the boats while settlement parties had to have a lot more careful thought and planning because you had to make sure you brought enough food stuffs and seeds and things to sow and harvest crops and enough people to build a new society out of basically nothing. But to help him, your journal had given him a map and pointed out three potential points for settlements as well as five potential raiding points which were relatively close by and trading ports so that Bjorn wouldn’t be able to figure it out too quickly where exactly he was going but would have a good general idea while Ivar had the map copied so that he could make future raiding plans as Ivar gave Bjorn his blessing to begin preparations.

When the night came that Ivar the boneless was going to abandon his son, Bjorn showed you where it was and left you there and walked back home as you sat as an owl in the tree and waited. When he came you flew into the tree closest to him so you could overhear his words, feeling enraged and incensed by them. You waited until he had crawled away a short distance, the baby started to cry and he paused and looked back, you still hoped that the sound of the baby crying would pull a heart string he still had, but no, he didn’t, he just left and you could do nothing but conclude that he truly was ruthless. You transformed into a wolf and howled and watched as Ivar hurried himself to get away. Most fathers should be crawling back to protect their baby rather than crawl away to save themselves you thought to yourself bitterly. He didn’t even look back to see you come over to his baby and sniff as the baby cried hysterically as you drug what the baby was put in- away, out of ear shot before you transformed back into Astrid before you got a good look at him and your heart broke. He was deformed and without your help, he would not survive and it was such that he couldn’t even latch properly, the poor thing was probably starving. But it’s a good thing you could help him.

“Shhh, it’s ok, it’s ok, mommy’s here.” You cooed as you scanned him quickly then picked up the baby and kissed him and put his beacon on which scanned him and locked in his biometrics which in turn would be the basis to bring the baby as close to perfection as humanly possible and set him on your chest and bounced and swayed to calm him as your materializer created a duplicate baby that would look like a baby but was just imitation flesh, indifferential to anyone else and once it was done, you placed the imitation baby, complete with a perfect replica of what the baby was wearing and put it back in the carrier where the baby had been laying before you started to walk away with him.

“You’re my son now, you’re no longer Baldur. You are reborn this day, as Dyre. Because you are very dear to me.” You cooed as you sprouted wings and flew away back to Bjorn.

“So this is Baldur.” Bjorn said as he peeked in your cloak to see the baby sleeping peacefully using your bosom as a pillow but even he grimaced at the deformity.

“Not any more, he’s Dyre now.” You grinned proudly as you put the sleeping babe on the same cot Bjorn had laid on when he was injured not that long ago as you unwrapped the baby and threw all that was wrapped around him in the fire since you had new baby clothes for him to wear, but first, you had to heal him. You brought up what Bjorn would have recognized as a soul forge which put a protective barrier around Dyre and levitated him and painlessly healed him and fixed his legs and everything else that was wrong with him so that he would look like any other child and have a “normal” childhood and have no lameness or disability, not even a limp. But oh, would he be handsome in addition to being intelligent and within the hour, the baby was better than new, he also woke up once he was healed and started to fuss because his hunger pains were back.

“There we go.” You breathed in relief as you got the baby a new diaper on and new clothes out of dragon silk and dragon wool on before you picked him up and cradled him before you carried him to your bed, which was now coincidentally right next to Bjorn’s as Bjorn pulled up your blankets and tucked both of you in as you nursed Dyre who was ravenous before Bjorn got into bed himself.

Once he heard that you were asleep he peeked open his eyes and saw you sleeping on your side, facing him, your whole body seeming to curl and coil around Dyre a Dyre slept blissfully in your embrace before he reached out and gently stroked your face then Dyer's face as his smile grew proud and serene.

The next morning Bjorn woke up with a sack of money on his chest, it was heavy. Surely it would be more than enough to buy you at the market as he quickly got up and got dressed and went to the market and looked for you urgently before he found you being unloaded from a ship of other thralls, you still stood out among them as others had come and caught sight of you and had hurried to get all the coins they had to buy you, since you were the most beautiful thrall in the market by a long shot. Most couldn’t remember the last time they had ever seen a woman so fair. Even as strangely dressed as you were.

“Astrid!” He called out and you snapped your head up and looked at him like he was crazy. The plan was that he was supposed to simply buy you as a thrall, not know you by name. And here you had gone through all the trouble of being in a tiny “sinking” rowboat with your baby and get caught by the thrall ship just off shore and get “captured”.

“You know him?” They asked you as you stuttered and stammered.

“Yes she knows me! She’s my wife!” He argued hotly as he came right up to you and explained how he had married you in secret almost a year ago and had come upon you in a raid and taken you as his wife but for fear you’d be taken by others while he was away on raids, he hid you away and “scolded” you for not telling them that you were his wife as the thrallers explained how they had caught you just that morning as that story seemed more plausible as you just nodded along in agreement and had to admit that that was a really good cover.

“Is this my babe?” He asked you excitedly.

“Y..Yes, he is, this is your son Dyre. Our dear one.” You answered, playing along as you showed him his ‘son’ as he took him and held him like any adoring father would and kissed his cheeks.

“You were supposed to come and get me! Why did you leave me for so long? I had to come and find you.” You demanded, trying to have a bite to your words but you failed miserably because for some reason, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Sorry, I was on a raid down south, I only just got back, thank the Allfather you came when you did, you would have been a thrall if I hadn’t been here.” He grinned cheekily.

“Do you really know him?” They asked before you stood a little prouder.

“He is Bjorn Gudmundsson, son of…” You began as you recited his family line as Bjorn’s chest puffed out in pride and his beaming smile shamed the sun.

“I see you’re wearing the shirt I made you.” You said as you nodded to his new shirt he was wearing once you were done and it was proof that you two were indeed married and they let you go.

“Yes,” He grinned proudly as the others humfed that they wouldn’t be able to make a sale off of you as Bjorn put his arm around you possessively and kissed your temple and walked away with you and showed you around Kattegat and introduced you to everyone as his wife and introduced Dyre as his son before he brought you home.

“Sadly I had a horse but she ran away this morning.” He tried to explain so his neighbor’s would hear it before he welcomed you into your house.

Once the door was shut however Bjorn caged you behind the door and finally kissed you.

Oh no. Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Shit. He was not supposed to like you this much. And you weren’t supposed to kiss him back. But you did. And heaven above help you, you were enjoying it.

The other arm that wasn’t holding Dyre grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you which he was all too happy to oblige and press you up against the door but careful not to press himself against Dyre while one of his hands found your face and the other found your waist and pulled you close to him in turn and it wasn’t until Dyre fussed that you broke apart for air and you finally came to your senses.

“Bjorn...I…” You tried to explain as the look in your eyes grew so pained.

“I know, you’re a Valkyrie. You won’t be with me for too much longer. I just...I needed...I wanted… you told me to keep my eyes on you, the problem is I can’t take my eyes off of you now.” Bjorn tried to explain as you looked up at him sympathetically and used your free hand to cup his cheek, smiling sadly when he still leaned into your touch.

“That was why I suggested the plan I did. Not a lot of women are keen on being a second or third wife, especially if the first is beloved, that’s why I was supposed to be a thrall, it’s going to be harder for you to explain why I left you if I’m your wife rather than your thrall.” You gently argued before you moved out from between him and the door as you looked down at Dyre lovingly as you bounced him slightly to get him to go back to sleep as you thought your options over and assessed the risks. You had to warn him.

“Bjorn, you can’t love me. It’s just a matter of time before Odin will bring me back to Asgard. We will have to be...very careful. Because I don’t want to leave, not yet, not until I know you’ll be safe and that you’re able to be on your own or we do find your future wife who will care for you, the way she should, the way you deserve anyway.” You tried to explain delicately. Wishing that was all there was to it.

“But I do love you, you are the daughter of Dragoners on Neveah and you are as fierce as any dragon, you are stronger and wiser than any other being I’ve ever known or will ever know. How could I not fall in love with you? Even if Odin abandons you, I never will. I swear on the life of our son that I will love you and care for you for the rest of my life and I will build you a home with my own two hands wherever you want it to be and I will ease your homesickness and I will do whatever I have to do to make you the happiest woman possible.” Bjorn swore as you swooned before he took Dyre out of your arms and gently kissed him before he put him down in his bassinet before he picked you up so that your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms naturally wrapped around his neck and shoulders before you leaned down to kiss him as he carried you over to your bed and laid you down and pinned you to it and kissed you passionately as he grabbed your skirts and brought them up to your hips as you furiously tried to take your own clothes off.

You both had to quiet each other from moaning too loud once you were joined.

“Ok, now I feel like I’m in Valhalla,” Bjorn growled in your ear before he bit your ear lobe which made you gasped as your legs wrapped around his waist while your nails clawed up his back deliciously as the gasp turned into a moan as he continued to move on top of you and start up an earnest rhythm as you kissed passionately and when his mouth traveled down your neck, to your chest, he got a mouthful of milk when he suckled on your breast which he wasn’t used to but it was very sweet.

“Getting a snack there my Love?” You giggled as he kept suckling at you.

“I am.” Bjorn laughed as he licked and kissed the distance from one nipple to the other.

“Making sure it’s good enough for our son?” You asked which made him grin wider.

“Yup, it’s perfect for our son.” Bjorn beamed proudly as he swallowed it down from above you before he captured your lips once more and made love to you the way he had wanted to since he met you, the way any loving and dutiful husband would please his wife and made absolutely sure you got your satisfaction before he got his.

#Vikings #vikings imagines #history vikings #vikings crossover #oc viking #viking reader insert #Keep Your Eyes On Me #Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 3 #viking lemon

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deepinifhell · 2 months

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Drunk texts to Morgan from Lauren:

come i did coke i miss you jobs i love i'm drunk

Drunk texts to Morgan from Neveah:

i just wanna cuddle the shit outta you and make you feel safe an loved

#neveah desanto #lauren jenkins #morgan x lauren #morgan x neveah

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deepinifhell · 6 months

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Morgan always reaches peak concern levels whenever someone breaks into Neveah's house/room and I just feel so bad for her because Neveah's first thought whenever someone breaks into her house is 'new friend?'

#neveah desanto #morgan x neveah

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deepinifhell · 5 months

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Detective: *moans after taking a bite of a really good muffin when they haven't had a chance to eat all day* M: *visibly jealous of the muffin*

#the wayhaven chronicles #this about #neveah x morgan #but it works in general #neveah desanto

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deepinifhell · 3 months

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Neveah is a cuddler, but she is also a wiggly sleeper when not given someone or something to cuddle. This makes sleeping interesting because Morgan has two options

go to bed at the same time as Neveah and cuddle her. Morgan describes the experience as "it's like cuddling an octopus" and "I think she's trying to crawl into my skin."

go to bed after Neveah has gone to sleep already. No cuddles BUT Neveah is going to wiggle around and end up in the weirdest position on the bed while still simultaneously still somehow touching Morgan. I present you with an example crappy diagram:

#neveah desanto #neveah x morgan

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daisymakesstuff · 10 months

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Cuddle Puddle

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Rating: General

Relationships: mostly gen, light Morgan x F!Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Word Count: 1,015

Description: While on some very nice pain killers after a surgery, the detective decides she wants cuddles. All of the cuddles.

A.K.A. I tried to come up with a scenario where I could get all of Unit Bravo into something resembling a cuddle puddle.

At the Facility Infirmary

The Agency medics expect Neveah to make a full recovery in a few weeks, and the surgery went smoothly. Nat is the one to suggest that she recover at the warehouse, but the rest of the team seems to agree.

“It’ll be like a slumber party!” Farah enthuses. Morgan doesn’t say anything, or even groan in complaint. She’s let Neveah rest her head on her shoulder for the last half hour without a single sexual comment, which is a seal of approval as far as Neveah is concerned.

“She would be there to rest,” Nat chastises. Neveah, in a pleasant haze from the pain medication they have her on, can’t help but giggle at the scene.

“The warehouse is a more defensible location. It will make keeping you safe easier,” Ava adds. With that practically glowing review from the team leader, Neveah grins.

“Then how can I refuse?” Neveah says. The Agency also seems much more keen to let her recover at home once they know that ‘home’ would be their strategically placed warehouse where her four vampire bodyguards live.

The Warehouse, A Few Days Later

After some hemming and hawing– Nat wanted to have all of Neveah’s belongings moved upstairs and Ava had to convince her that was wholly unnecessary– the team decided they would move a bed into one of the rooms on the upper floor, so Neveah wouldn’t have to walk far to get to most of the common rooms.

Neveah is grateful for that right now as she gingerly pushes herself out of bed to check around the warehouse. It doesn’t hurt thanks to the strict medication schedule Nat has her on, but she definitely felt a lot better laying down than she does shuffling down the hallway.

There is something surreal about the fact that she can feel the stiffness of her body and every tug or touch of her incision, but there’s no real pain to accompany it. The medication also makes her head feel fuzzy. She can’t quite make her brain work well enough to read and she’s starting to get bored.

She wants company, and conversation…and cuddles . Yes. That one. The moment she thinks the word, she’s certain of what she wants.

Pinning Morgan down is easy. She’s lounging on a couch in the living room, already looking at the door before Neveah makes it inside.

“Need something, sweetheart?” Morgan asks.

Words are hard, so Neveah just plops herself down onto Morgan’s lap. Well…she slowly and carefully lowers herself into Morgan’s lap, and Morgan doesn’t move from her spot on the couch while Neveah does it.

When she finally does get settled, letting out a sigh of relief as she sinks into Morgan’s touch, Morgan’s eyes comb over her in surprisingly chaste inspection before wrapping an arm loosely around her waist.

Time is also hard for Neveah right now, but Nat wanders in what she thinks is a few minutes later. Nat’s halfway through making a face of disapproval before she realizes there’s nothing untoward happening. Neveah makes grabby hands at her to distract her from her shock. It works, based on the look of confusion that spreads across her face.

“What are you doing?” Nat asks. “Are you alright?”

“Come here!” Neveah urges.

Nat complies, and Neveah stretches her arms out. Morgan rolls her eyes, but tightens her arms around Neveah’s waist so she doesn’t tip over or pull on her stitches in the process. Nat also indulges her, walking closer until Neveah can comfortably wrap her arms around Nat and sit in Morgan’s lap at the same time.

“Cuddle me!” Neveah requests with undisguised delight. Nat glances to Morgan who is refusing to make eye contact.

“Whatever,” Morgan finally mutters. Nat flashes a bemused smile and sits down on the couch next to Neveah. Neveah rests her head on Nat’s shoulder, still splayed across Morgan’s lap and acting as a buffer between the two of them.

“What are you all doing in–? Hey! Are you snuggling without me !?” Farah demands. She doesn’t wait for an answer, squishing herself between Neveah and Nat.

“Farah, be careful!” Nat flings out her arms to keep Farah from jostling Neveah too hard while the young vampire wiggles herself into place. Neveah just makes a pleased hum, shifting to rest her head on Farah’s shoulder with one arm stretched out to touch Nat’s shoulder, because of course she needs to be touching all of them at the same time.

Ava arrives home a shortly after, making her way through the warehouse to check in with the rest of unit regarding her trip to the Facility.

“Ava!” Neveah calls with a drowsy gasp of joy, lifting her head from Farah’s shoulder. “You’re all home now!”

Ava blinks as she takes in the situation. “What are you all doing?”

“I came in and Neveah was cuddling everyone else,” Farah shrugs. Morgan grumbles, but she still hasn’t moved.

“It’s a cuddle puddle!” Neveah adds, trying to wave Ava in with her free hand. “Come cuddle!”

Ava looks appalled by the mere concept, let alone her personal invitation to join. Nat flashes an amused smile her way, and Farah watches the commanding agent's discomfort with enthusiasm.

“Oh, come on old friend,” Nat teases, glancing meaningfully to Neveah, “at least sit down.”

“Scared of a little snuggling?” Farah challenges with a mischievous grin. Ava’s eyes narrow and her expression falls into a determined frown. She stiffly comes to sit down beside Nat on the couch. Snuggling may be too generous of a word but, by nature of having five people on a 3-seat sofa, she is pressed up against Nat.

“Yay!” Neveah cheers, the sound joyful but also soft and sleepy. Briefly, she stretches her arm out just a little further, fingers wiggling as though that will somehow give her enough reach to touch Ava on the other side of the couch. She finally gives up after a few seconds.

Thankfully for all of them, they only have to sit there for a few minutes before Neveah is asleep.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #twc fanfiction #neveah desanto #my fanfic #have some silly little bullshit

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daisymakesstuff · 1 year

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Through the Seasons

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: F!Detective x Morgan (Neveah Desanto)

Word Count: 2,301

Also Available on AO3

Rating: Teen +, because Morgan is still Morgan.

Description: Morgan doesn't know what to do with grand romantic overtures and impassioned declarations, so the detective shows her affection in little ways.

Summer

Neveah sets down her purse so she can slip on her walking shoes more easily. When she looks up from her task, Morgan is hovering nearby, perched against the railing of the stairwell and partially blocking Neveah’s exit. Usually, any task that has Neveah bending over would have Morgan leering at her but, while Morgan is watching her closely, there is none of that in her gaze today.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asks. There’s an odd strain to her voice that Neveah can’t quite put her finger on, something between accusation and concern. Neveah smiles sweetly at her.

“I’m running to the store to pick up a few things,” she explains. “It's nice out so I was going to walk there. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

“I’m coming with you,” Morgan announces. Neveah stops and turns around to face her, head cocked uncertainly.

“Are you sure?” Neveah rolls her lips together.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Morgan growls. Neveah clasps her hands behind her back, fidgeting a little as she considers how to phrase this.

“It’s just that you hate the heat…and the sun…and fluorescent lighting…and crowded places…and human food…and fragranced products—” Morgan cuts her off with a groan and a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t remind me.”

“So— not that I mind, I like spending time with you— why do you want to come with?” Neveah presses gently.

“Because two days ago you were in the middle of a crowd of people who wanted to drain you of every drop of your blood and now you want to go traipsing through the woods by yourself!” Morgan snaps. Neveah’s expression softens in understanding and she steps forward to close the gap between them, one hand reaching out slowly in case Morgan rejects the touch.

Morgan does her one better, wrapping a hand around Neveah’s waist and pulling her close. She expects a crude comment and cannot cover up her shock when Morgan instead nuzzles into the crook of her neck. Neveah quickly returns the embrace, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Morgan’s back. For a while, they just stay there like that but, eventually, Neveah breaks the silence. She really does need to go to the store.

“I could ask one of the others to come with me,” she offers gently. Morgan doesn’t understand why the idea pisses her off so much, but she scoffs before lifting her head up to look Neveah directly in the eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” she snaps, “I’m going with you.” It turns out Morgan doesn’t even need to try making an innuendo. Her warm breath on Neveah’s neck and the intense look in those stormy grey eyes has Neveah’s heart racing and her body pulsing with desire. Her next exhale is a soft, pleasured pant that works wonders for Morgan’s mood.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Morgan teases, her usual smirk having settled back onto her face. It takes Neveah a couple of seconds to pull it together, but she nods dumbly and manages to take a step out of their embrace. She bends down again, searching through her purse for the sunscreen she meant to put on before leaving, hoping it will help cool off the heat between them.

It works for all of five seconds until Neveah locates the bottle of sunscreen and realizes that she can feel Morgan’s gaze on her, intense and wanting once again. Morgan’s been watching since Neveah stepped away, skimming over each line and curve of her body with a familiar lust. The feeling only intensifies when Neveah notices her attention, the detective’s body responding in its usual and inviting way.

“You sure you want to go?” Morgan asks, the suggestion in her tone unmistakable. “I could show you plenty of things to eat right here.”

Neveah’s first instinct is to shy away, but recently she has discovered that it is very thrilling when she can manage to be a little bolder. She takes a deep breath through her nose to try and recover her composure, but her mouth is so dry she can’t bring herself to respond. Instead, she squeezes out some sunscreen into her hands and starts rubbing it into her legs, hiking up her skirt a little higher.

Morgan’s face lights up with a genuine smile and the pleasant heat between her legs becomes a desperate aching need. She thoroughly enjoys flustering the detective at every opportunity, but seeing her get the confidence to flirt back? It sparks something more than lust.

“Or maybe I could help you with your sunscreen?” Morgan offers, a little smugly. “You wouldn’t want to miss a spot. I'll be very thorough.” Neveah’s mind immediately floods with thoughts of Morgan’s hands on her and she rushes through the rest of the application process to try and chase them away.

Taking another deep breath, Neveah gathers up her things and turns around to face Morgan with a smile. “Alright, let’s go.”

The two of them enjoy a pleasant silence as they head up the stairs and through the warehouse’s crumbling facade. The heat of the day hits them both like a brick wall once they leave the temperature-controlled part of the building, temporarily deterring either of them from seeking out further warmth from their flirtations.

Once they reach the main path, Morgan takes her usual place walking along the shady edge underneath the trees. Neveah stays close but keeps to the sunny part of the path. While Morgan’s expression remains in a pinched frown, Neveah seems to adjust to the temperature after a few minutes, tipping her head up and closing her eyes to enjoy the sun on her face.

Morgan finds herself watching Neveah again, distracted by the peaceful expression on her face and the way she stretches her arms out to let the sun wash over her warm bronze skin. Morgan doesn’t notice the way her own expression eases as the sweltering summer sun becomes less unbearable, or the smile that quirks on her lips when Neveah twirls around happily, the light skirt of her sun dress swirling out around her.

Morgan’s frown quickly returns once they get into town, though. The concrete and asphalt make the already sweltering heat even worse, and there are too many buildings and too many people. Her expression turns into a full-on scowl at the realization that there is not much in the way of shade for most of the path between here and the store.

Neveah returns to stand close to Morgan’s side, fiddling with something in her hands. There's a click and, as Morgan goes to wrap an arm around her waist, a patch of shade appears above them. Her skin no longer burns from the direct exposure, and while everything is still too bright, it's a lot more comfortable without the glare of the sun shining directly into her eyes.

Morgan tips her head up, taking note of the white lacy covering held above them. It's definitely not her style, but Neveah's the one holding it, so she lets that thought go. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s a parasol, to keep the sun off you.” Neveah smiles brightly at her. Morgan looks away to avoid the intensity of the feelings that flood her as she slings an arm around Neveah’s waist to pull her close.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Fall

“If you wanted to see my underwear, all you had to do was ask,” Morgan quips, leaning casually in the doorway to her bedroom. Neveah startles, slamming Morgan’s dresser drawer shut as she lets out a squeak of surprise at being caught.

“Sorry!”

Morgan raises an eyebrow, inspecting the detective closely. Neveah won’t make eye contact, looking down at the ground in shame. Her hands fidget with the skirt of her sundress, but her pulse races at the flirtation. Morgan would be pissed at anyone else. She should be pissed at the detective— there is exactly one way Morgan likes having people in her business— but she isn’t.

There isn’t a single mean bone in the detective’s body. Whatever she is up to is probably disgustingly wholesome, and Morgan isn’t really in the mood to deal with the strange combination of feelings that inspires in her. Neveah lets the guilty silence simmer for maybe 45 seconds, which probably feels like hours to the detective. Humans generally aren't fond of sitting in silence, so sitting in shameful silence? They usually act like it's torture, in Morgan's experience. Not only is Neveah too nice for her own good— she has the patience of a saint.

“I…well…I’m just going to go…if that’s alright?” Neveah’s gaze flicks up but she only makes eye contact for a moment before she looks away again. Morgan turns so there is just enough space for Neveah to shuffle out, but not without brushing up against Morgan on the way out. The flush on Neveah’s cheeks as they press against each other makes Morgan feel better in all the right ways.

Morgan’s assumption proves correct a few days later when she returns from patrol to find a package of socks in front of her door. The label prominently advertises them as seamless. With a grimace of hesitation, she opens up the packaging to inspect the socks. To Morgan’s surprise, they’re pretty damn close to what she usually wears in color, style, length, and texture, just without the seams along the toes.

She never thanks Neveah for the socks, but Neveah doesn’t seem bothered by that. The detective smiles a little to herself every time she catches Morgan wearing them, so Morgan figures she already knows.

Winter

Morgan plods to the foyer to grab her shoes and starts lacing up her boots. She’s due on patrol in a few minutes– not exactly something she’s looking forward to given the weather. Aside from the usual bitter cold of winter, Wayhaven is long past the fresh white snow from the beginning of the season, and at the point where every path is either a densely packed icy death trap or surrounded by a barrier of dirty snow and ice melt crystals.

“Wait!” Neveah calls from the other room. She scrambles out of the kitchen and into the foyer with as much speed as her weak human body can muster, wobbling when her socks slide on the hardwood unexpectedly. Morgan is at her side in an instant, slinging an arm around her waist to keep her upright. The response is instinctive, and Morgan only realizes what she has done after the fact.

“Falling for me again, sweetheart?” Morgan covers her confusion with a smirk. The way Neveah’s skin heats and her heart races at the light flirtation washes away any further thoughts on the matter. When Neveah meets Morgan’s gaze her eyes sparkle like she just saved the detective’s life. It sparks amusement, given Morgan has actually saved the detective’s life before, but also...something else.

It takes a couple of seconds before Neveah remembers whatever sent her running over. She reaches into the pocket of her jacket, pulls out two packets of some sort of cheap industrial-looking fabric, and shakes them before holding them out expectantly for Morgan. Sounds like it’s filled with some sort of powder.

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “What the hell are these?”

“These will stay warm for a few hours. So your hands don’t get so cold on patrol.” Neveah holds them out a little further, willing Morgan to take them. She finally does, tucking them into the pockets of her jacket. Then she leans in, her warm breath ghosting over Neveah’s ear.

“Does this mean I get to give you something to keep you warm?” she whispers, pulling back with a smirk to enjoy the results of her handiwork. Neveah rarely lets her take it further than this, but watching the detective squirm and her pupils dilate with arousal is more than enough to give her a second source of warmth for the evening.

Spring

Morgan almost doesn’t want to interrupt Neveah’s work the view is so nice. She’s on her tiptoes fussing with the side gate of the warehouse. Her usual dress and cardigan have been swapped for tight leggings and a T-shirt, emphasizing some of Neveah’s best assets.

“What’s all the racket about?” Morgan finally asks. Neveah flinches, the ladder wobbling slightly, but thankfully holding firm, before she recognizes Morgan’s voice.

“Sorry, I was hoping you were out on patrol.” Neveah looks back at her with an apologetic smile that always makes Morgan feel a little bad about whatever snarky comment she’s just made. She shoves her hands in her pockets, shaking her head in dismissal.

“It’s fine. I was looking for you anyway." Her smile brightens immediately, and Morgan is satisfied with the strange feeling it inspires in her chest.

A comfortable silence settles between them. Morgan savors the moment before her curiosity wins out. “So, you gonna tell me what you’re up to?” she prompts.

“Oh! Yeah.” Neveah seems to just remember what she was doing. She grabs some sort of spray can and faces it in Morgan’s general direction in demonstration. “The hinge on the gate squeaked when I opened it, so I was just fixing it.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “You know the Agency has people to do that kind of stuff, right?”

“I know, but the sound was really shrill and I wasn’t sure they’d want to send someone out quickly for such a minor issue.”

“The noise bothered you that much?” Morgan asks. Neveah usually has the patience of a saint, including a frankly ridiculous tolerance for obnoxious noises. She shakes her head.

“Not really,” she admits, “but I know it’s the kind of stuff that bothers you.”

"How do you feel about sex on a ladder, sweetheart?"

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc morgan #twc fanfiction #twc fanfic #neveah desanto #my fanfic

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daisymakesstuff · 11 months

Text

Chapter 3 - The Morning After

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: Morgan x Female Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Chapter Word Count: 4,386 Total Words: 10,391

Description: It is a strange and terrible thing to wake up the day after a loved one has died. Thankfully, Unit Bravo is there to get the detective through it.

Read on AO3

-----------------------------

The Next Morning, in Morgan’s Bedroom

Neveah wakes to the feeling of a hand soothingly stroking her hair. She hums softly, savoring the sensation.

Seemingly in response to her pleased sound, Neveah gets a series of kisses along her jawline. Leaning into the touch, she eventually opens her eyes to the sight of stormy grey irises and warm freckled skin. She gives Morgan a drowsy, affectionate smile—

— and then Neveah remembers what happened yesterday. Her eyes glaze over with grief. Morgan’s hand comes to cup Neveah’s cheek, as though trying to draw back the moment of joy.

It’s a futile effort.

“Come on, Nat has breakfast going for you,” Morgan says, rolling out of bed with a heavy sigh. Slowly, Neveah gets up and plods to the bathroom, so Morgan figures she’s safe to get her own clothes on. The rest of Unit Bravo aren’t exactly fond of her wandering around the warehouse nude.

Morgan skips the leather cords this morning, just pulling on her jeans and burgundy T-shirt in case Neveah suddenly needs her in the few seconds it would take to put them on. When she doesn’t, Morgan makes the bed. It’s routine, but it’s also a way for Morgan to keep her hands busy while she waits and listens.

Neveah does a pretty shit job at brushing her teeth from the sound of it, but she rubs toothpaste on her teeth with the toothbrush and that’s good enough for Morgan. There are a few strange starts and stops, but they never last more than a minute. Farah would never let her live it down if she knew that Morgan was in here counting the number of seconds it takes for Neveah to go from opening the cap on her toothpaste to actually brushing her teeth.

Finally, the bathroom door swings open.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” Neveah says, voice unusually soft and mousy. Reluctantly, Morgan goes to brush her teeth. The experience of it is unpleasant enough to keep her distracted for a couple of minutes, even with the soft bristle toothbrush and unflavored toothpaste that Morgan, begrudgingly, lets Neveah keep buying for her.

She comes back to find Neveah standing in the middle of Morgan’s closet with one of her sundresses rumpled in her hand, and that thousand-yard-stare on her face again. This is exactly the kind of thing Morgan was worried about.

She appraises Neveah’s nightgown. It’s knee length with little puff sleeves, nothing too sheer. She rarely cares what Neveah wears to bed (unless there’s a chance she can get Neveah out of it), but there are some nightgowns Neveah’s not comfortable wearing around the warehouse.

This one’s probably fine though, Morgan decides. She wraps one arm around Neveah’s waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder to try and draw her attention back. Morgan’s other hand tugs the dress out of Neveah’s grasp, dropping it back on the shelf unceremoniously.

“Forget it. Let’s just go.” Morgan leads her by the hand upstairs, only because they can’t both fit through the doorway at the same time.

Meanwhile, in the Warehouse Kitchen

It’s a crisp summer morning, the kind that comes before an inevitably sweltering day. Bright sunlight filters through the windows, filling the dining room with natural light softly diffused by a set of sheer curtains.

Nat has Neveah’s favorite— crepes— cooking on one burner, and has been stirring a cup full of raw eggs for the last three minutes.

“I’m pretty sure they’re dead, Natkins,” Farah quips from the table. Sighing, Nat looks down and confirms that the eggs are indeed thoroughly mixed together, before dumping them in the pre-warmed pan to cook.

“I’m just worried about Neveah,” Nat admits. Her anxieties haven’t hampered her cooking skills at all, though. She moves between both pans with expert skill and timing, a pile of perfectly folded crepes piling up on a plate beside the stove. The eggs cook up to be a, very fluffy, sunshine yellow.

“Neveah is resilient, she will bounce back,” Ava says, entering the dining room with the team’s blood pouches carefully balanced on a tray in one hand.

“I know. I just want to make sure she knows she’s not alone in this.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows. She and Morgan are basically attached at the hip,” Farah says, fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. Ava grunts in agreement.

“We may need to make sure she gets the space she needs, instead.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Nat considers as she plates the scrambled eggs. Neveah tends to favor having people around, but everyone needs space sometimes.

“I don’t know about that,” Farah shrugs, “Neveah’s never been much of a space person.”

Nat brings the last of the food over, completing the table setting. Between the eggs, Neveah’s place setting, her glass of orange juice, the serving tray for the crepes, and the little ramekins Nat has meticulously filled with Neveah’s favorite toppings, about half of the table is dedicated to her.

“Just…behave. Alright, Farah? Neveah had a hard day yesterday,” Nat almost pleads.

“I was there too you kno–” Farah’s complaint is cut off by Nat when Neveah and Morgan walk into the room. Or, more accurately, when Morgan walks into the room, towing a listless Neveah behind her.

“Good morning, Neveah!” Nat smiles sweetly at her. Ava flicks her gaze over to Neveah only briefly, but Morgan catches a flash of sympathy in her eyes. A beat later, Nat seems to remember something “ — and Morgan.”

Morgan rolls her eyes, and Neveah gives a half-hearted wave of acknowledgment. The fact that she doesn’t even try to smile or say good morning seems to weigh heavy on the air. It’s a relief for Morgan when Nat takes over.

“Come sit,” Nat urges, gesturing to Neveah’s usual chair, “breakfast is ready.”

Shuffling over to her chair Neveah sits down, staring through the food on her plate more than at it. Morgan swipes her blood pouch off the table and brings her usual chair a couple of feet closer to Neveah’s, close enough so their thighs touch when Morgan sits down. She keeps telling Nat to just leave the damn chair there, but Nat insists it ‘throws off the look of the room’ when the chairs are unevenly spaced.

Farah, after sucking down her blood pouch in record time, waves a hand in front of Neveah’s face.

“Earth to Nev? Anybody home?” Farah calls. No one else calls Neveah ‘Nev’, but that hasn’t stopped Farah. Morgan bats Farah’s hand away, growling low in her chest.

“Neveah?” Nat reaches out instead this time, resting her hand gently over one of Neveah’s and plastering on a gentle smile. She has to ask a couple of times, but Neveah blinks and looks up at her.

“Yeah?” Neveah croaks.

“You should eat something. It will help,” Nat urges, gesturing to the food.

“Yeah.” Neveah picks up her fork. When nothing happens for the next few seconds, Nat shifts the plate of eggs in front of Neveah and takes the empty plate away, filling it up with a couple of crepes. Farah jumps in to ‘help’ Nat pick out toppings, eager for a distraction from the weight of the emotions in the room.

Neveah mostly pushes her food around on her plate, but about midway through their awkward, mostly silent breakfast Neveah’s phone vibrates from the pocket of her night dress. While generally very adamant about no phones during mealtimes, Nat simply purses her lips when Neveah goes to check the notification.

Whatever it is does something to bolster Neveah. She scrubs her hands over her face and puts away a few more bites of food. It’s not much, but it’s more than Nat could have expected under the circumstances.

“I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed,” Neveah says. She stands, starting to collect her dishes, but Nat covers Neveah’s hand with her own to stop her.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of it,” Nat assures with a soft smile.

“We?” Farah asks. “I did not volunteer for this.”

“You have now,” Ava states, swirling her wine glass. Neveah opens her mouth to protest.

“Go take your damn shower already. We can handle a few dishes,” Morgan orders. Every pair of eyes in the room turn to her in shock, but Morgan grits her teeth and ignores them. They know damn well Morgan’s head over heels for her, so you’d think they would stop acting like it's new every time she shows it.

In the Hallway

Reluctantly, Neveah leaves the dishes where they are, letting Nat take over stacking them. In the background, she can hear Farah chattering (unnecessarily loudly for a group of people with super hearing) about her latest obsession. The sound is surprisingly soothing.

Neveah unlocks her phone again, re-reading the message on her screen:

Calloway Pierson has been returned to the Pierson residence under the care of an Agency-assigned nanny. Visitation permissions have been granted to Agent Neveah Desanto. Other members of Unit Bravo may attend as needed for security purposes.

Neveah thought she knew grief, but this grief is different. It seeps into everything like water and periodically swells up like the tide, threatening to drown her. And if her grief is the ocean, then the empty halls have their own gravitational pull.

The warm cream paint and wood paneling usually make her feel safe, but today the walk just feels long and lonely. It gives her too much time to think, to remember that the only reason she was looking forward to this message is because her best friend is dead. Her husband is too, leaving their child an orphan. And the worst part? It’s all her fault.

When Neveah gets to her room she heads straight for the shower, rushing to get the water on before she bursts into tears.

Back in the Kitchen

The relatively pleasant banter between Unit Bravo comes to a sudden halt. They all hear it at the same time: a distant weeping over the running water. Nat and Farah pointedly look away from the noise.

“Give her space,” Ava orders Morgan, who is already halfway out of her chair. Morgan hesitates, but she cards her fingers roughly through her hair and sits back down with a scowl.

“So, this is pretty awkward…” Farah says to break the silence.

Nat busies herself taking the dishes over to the kitchen’s double sink and filling one of them up with soapy water. Farah goes back to fidgeting with the tablecloth, and Morgan gets up to pace back and forth across the dining room.

“Morgan, do you want to come dry the dishes?” It’s an instruction not a request, but Nat phrases it as a question to be polite. The expected scoff or snarky comment never comes. Instead, after Morgan crosses the length of the dining room two more times, she grabs a dish towel and starts drying the dishes.

“Wow. It must be bad if you’re actually helping,” Farah says, staring at Morgan drying the dishes with about as much shock and awe as she had given the actual aurora borealis. “Neveah’s not even here.”

“Farah,” Nat chides.

“If you have time to be underfoot that must mean all your reports are finished, then?” Ava asks, fixing Farah with a stern look. They both know those reports aren’t finished.

“Well…about that, I— Let me just go look!” Farah takes the opportunity to flee the room. Ava stands up once she’s gone.

“I have work to do as well,” she announces, leaving Nat and Morgan alone in the kitchen. For a couple of minutes, they sit in silence, Nat washing the dishes and Morgan drying them before setting them in the draining rack. The quiet never lasts, though.

“How are you handling what happened?” Nat asks.

“Why are you asking me? Not like it’s my friend who died,” Morgan scoffs.

“That doesn’t make it any easier to see the people you love in pain.” Silence settles in again while Morgan processes that statement.

“I don’t know how to help her,” she eventually admits.

“You already are helping her,” Nat assures.

“Yeah right.” Morgan glances in the direction of the bedrooms, where they can both still hear Neveah crying.

“I’m serious, Morgan. You’re making sure she is loved and cared for. That’s the best thing we can do for her right now.” Morgan only grunts in acknowledgment, but the thoughtful look on her face assures Nat that she has taken the words seriously.

-----------------------------

Morgan doesn’t stick around long after the dishes are done, hoping to walk off some of the anxiety vibrating under her skin. She finds herself most of the way to Neveah’s room before she remembers she is supposed to be giving Neveah space. Instead, she leans against one of Nat’s decorative tables she keeps in the hallway.

When Neveah finally leaves her room, her hair is still wet and undone. She’s not wearing earrings or makeup like she usually would either, but she’s no longer wearing her nightgown and has her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asks. Neveah startles, not having noticed her until now. It’s not exactly one of her usual haunts. She relaxes once she realizes who it is.

“They brought Cal back to Tina’s house, I’m going to go see him,” Neveah explains.

“I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t need to do that. It’s just in town.”

“You could barely get dressed this morning,” Morgan scoffs. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive. Go get in the SUV.”

The words sting. It’s less about the tone (Neveah has long since gotten used to that), and more that she doesn’t like the reality of them. How is she supposed to be useful when she loses track of entire minutes at a time, and every little task feels like swimming through molasses?

“I’m sorry,” Neveah says, looking down at the ground.

“Don’t be,” Morgan says with a shrug. Pausing to make sure Neveah is alright with the touch, she puts her arms around Neveah’s shoulders. Some of Neveah’s guilt eases off immediately; Morgan’s small gestures always seem to be the best balm for her emotional wounds.

In the SUV

It’s not unusual for the two of them to drive in silence. Morgan enjoys the quiet, and Neveah is easily pleased by the smallest of things. Sometimes, when she looks particularly enamored with whatever is outside the window, Morgan asks what she’s thinking about. It’s usually followed by excited commentary about some animal she sees, or something she likes about the sky, or some other inane feature that’s caught her attention.

Today though, the silence between them is thick and heavy. Neveah’s expression in the reflection of the window is blank and dour. Morgan can’t tell if Neveah’s thinking, or if she’s just checked out again. The answer comes when Morgan puts the car in park in front of the familiar primrose yellow house and has to nudge Neveah lightly with her knee to get her attention.

“We’re here,” Morgan announces.

Beech Street has been left almost entirely untouched by the last half-decade other than some mild wear and tear on the houses. Nothing demolished, nothing new built, no major additions added to any of the homes. Until yesterday, the most exciting thing to happen to the neighborhood was when Adrian finally fixed the old squeaky gate in front of Tina’s house.

If there was any damage from yesterday’s events, the Agency has already taken care of any evidence of it. Morgan’s sure the same has been done on the inside of the house as well.

“Thank you,” Neveah grabs her purse from beside her feet, preparing to open the car door and get out. Morgan’s hand on her arm draws her attention back.

“I love you. Call me when you’re ready and I’ll come get you,” Morgan says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I love you too,” Neveah says quietly. She gives Morgan a small smile and heads up the walkway to the door. The car stays idling until a grey uniformed Agent lets Neveah inside, at which point Morgan drives off.

That Evening

Neveah is quiet when she gets into the passenger seat of the SUV, looking more stressed and despairing than she had this morning. The skin around her eyes and nostrils are red and raw from all the crying she’s done in the past 24 hours.

“What happened?” Morgan asks, tone gentler than usual, though still edging on a demand.

A trembling hand creeps onto the console. Morgan takes the hint, twining their fingers together. The sound of the engine revving breaks up the quiet of the evening but, otherwise, their drive back is dead silent. The touch, at least, seems to help. By the time they arrive back at the warehouse, Neveah smells less stressed and feels less shaky.

-----------------------------

Neveah draws to a stop before they head into the warehouse, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, as though trying to steel herself. Morgan looks her over with concern.

“Nat and Farah are home. I’m supposed to head out once I drop you off. Do you want me to stay?” Morgan asks. The simple question tests all of Neveah’s willpower. Morgan would, if Neveah said yes, but she shouldn’t.

Between Rebecca and Ava, the patrol rotas are meticulously planned to be as efficient as possible. If Morgan stays, someone else doesn’t get their rest time, as much as keeping an eye on Neveah at the warehouse can even be counted as a rest.

“I’ll be alright. I’d rather you worry about keeping the town safe,” Neveah says, flashing the best smile she can muster up.

“I don’t care about the town. I care about you.” Morgan’s brows furrow as she inspects Neveah. Ultimately though, she decides not to push the issue, nodding her head toward the entrance to the foyer.

In the Foyer

Nat and Farah are both waiting inside. Nat has her hands shoved in her pockets while Farah rocks back on her heels. Otherwise, the foyer looks much the same as usual— except the cushions of the loveseat are missing, leaving the underlining and supports visible.

When Neveah opens the door Farah throws her hands up in the air.

“You’re finally here!” She exclaims excitedly. “Come on! I made you a pillow fort.”

Farah grabs hold of Neveah’s wrist and starts tugging her toward the living room. Neveah briefly glances back to Morgan, lips turned up in just a hint of a smile. Morgan thinks it’s supposed to be reassuring…it’s not.

“Go. We’ll take good care of her,” Nat promises with a smile, no doubt having heard their exchange outside. Nat will at least, but even Farah is trying. Morgan can hear her chattering excitedly about movie options from whatever monstrosity she’s built in the living room.

“Yeah…thanks,” Morgan grunts. She still scowls as she leaves anyway, though.

In the Warehouse Living Room

The pillow fort takes up the majority of the living room. Most of the cushions in the house seem to have been dedicated to its outer structure, as are many of the household chairs, and a variety of clips and straps that are probably meant to be tactical equipment.

Farah gleefully gives Neveah a tour of the outside of the fort before ushering her in through a set of sheets acting as curtains. The inside is just as cozy, with a blanket covering the floor, pillows everywhere, and even more blankets folded off to the side. A large monitor has been brought inside the fort, connected to the other living room electronics by a chain of extension cables that is almost definitely a fire hazard. Next to the screen is a tall pile of DVDs.

“What do you want to watch?” Farah asks.

“Why don’t you pick?” Neveah suggests. She can’t muster up the energy to do so right now. Thankfully, Farah gleefully takes to sorting through the movie pile.

“Neveah, do you want anything to eat?” Nat pokes her head between their makeshift curtain, stooped over at an awkward angle to be able to see the two of them. Neveah shakes her head. Nat purses her lips but then flashes another soothing smile.

“Then how about hot cocoa?” Nat tries.

“Sure, thanks,” Neveah answers, though it's mostly to appease her friend. The smile on Nat’s face becomes just a little more genuine.

“I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

--------------------------------------

About twenty minutes into the movie, Farah realizes that maybe she should have picked something that she’d seen before. In her defense, the movie was supposed to be a comedy. How was she supposed to know there would be a funeral in the middle of the movie?

There is a small hitch in Neveah’s breath.

“Crap! Sorry, I didn’t know,” Farah speaks quickly while she scrambles to try and hide the movie. She pauses and unpauses the film 3 times before she slows down enough to get it to stay there. When she realizes the screen still looks very funeral-y, she jabs her finger on the off button of the monitor, leaving the two of them mostly in the dark.

“It’s fine. It’s just…” Farah fidgets with her pajamas, trying her best to stay quiet long enough for Neveah to say what she needs to. “The Agency called while I was at their house.”

“They did? What did they want?” Farah asks, interest piqued.

“They finished the autopsy and were asking about funeral arrangements.” Neveah rubs at her eyes again to try and stem the tears hard enough she can see small colored splotches behind her eyes.

“Jeez,” Farah flops back into her pillow pile with a heavy sigh, “they never give you a break do they?”

“No. I guess they don’t,” Neveah says between the occasional sob. “They said an open-casket funeral is off the table.”

“A what?” Farah asks, tilting her head in curiosity. Does the Echo World even use caskets? Neveah shakes her head to clear the errant thought.

“Uh— like when they open the box the body is in so everyone can see it before burial. They’re supposed to look like they did when they’re alive, so you can see them one last time.”

“Who wants to stare at a dead person?” Farah’s expression twists with displeasure at the idea but she doesn’t linger on the subject long enough for Neveah to actually answer. “Why can’t you have one?”

“The…remains weren’t in good enough condition.” That’s the final straw before Neveah gives up, openly weeping.

“What do you—? Oh,” the situation seems to dawn on Farah with a wince of sympathy, “that bad huh?”

She sits up and tugs Neveah into a side hug with just a little too much force and speed. Neveah squeaks at the sudden movement. Farah rushes out another quick apology. It only takes about a minute of crying before Farah is visibly stiff and uncomfortable, patting Neveah’s shoulder to try and soothe her.

“Think of it this way: now Tina won’t have to get buried wearing a bra, right?” Farah suggests hopefully. The noise Neveah lets out is difficult to describe, a strange amalgamation of conflicting emotions. It’s enough to shock Neveah out of her spiral of grief, and Farah latches onto the moment like a lifeline. “If you can’t have a whatever funeral then we’ll need to find the best picture of Tina ever! I can totally help with that!”

Farah spends the next few hours with Neveah, going through photos of Tina and Adrian, cracking jokes, and helping her pick the best ones. It helps, to still feel like she’s doing what her closest friend would want. Eventually though, with Neveah’s blessing when Farah gets too fidgety, Farah bounces off to do something else as things progress into less fun arrangements.

The Middle of the Night, Still in the Pillow Fort.

“Neveah?” Nat asks softly, peeking in through the pillow fort curtain. Her eyes flick briefly to the half-drunk cup of cocoa she brought by earlier in the evening.

Neveah looks up over the screen of her laptop, her eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the room. The persistent blue light from the computer helps to highlight the angles of Nat’s face and the satin fabric of her pajamas.

In contrast, Neveah’s sundress from this morning is crumpled, and she has a line of spit-up down the bodice. Her eyes are bloodshot from staring at the screen of her laptop for too long. Nat gives a soft, disapproving tsk .

“What are you still doing awake?” the vampire asks gently.

“I need to handle these funeral arrangements,” Neveah murmurs, rubbing at her eyes. The skin around them is starting to feel sore after the last 36 hours.

“That’s not something you need to worry about. The Agency will take care of all that.”

“Tina would kill me if I let the Agency give her a dour grey funeral.” Neveah’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears, but her laugh is genuine. Nat chuckles too.

“There aren’t any family members to take care of this?”

“No, just Verda and I, and he doesn’t know so…” Neveah trails off, resting her head in her hands. “I never even called him. Crap!”

Neveah unlocks her phone, starting to swipe at the screen. Nat gently places her hand over Neveah’s, guiding the device back to the floor

“Neveah, take a deep breath.” Nat models a deep inhale and a long exhale. Despite her best effort to replicate it, Neveah’s breath comes out shaky and oddly timed, her entire body taut like a bowstring. “All of this can wait until the morning. I know it can feel…unbearably lonely to lose a loved one, but you’re not alone. We are all here to help you.”

Neveah opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out are yet more sobs. Nat bundles her up into a tight hug, rubbing her back in slow but sure motions and murmuring soft platitudes. Unlike the others, affection and comfort seem to be second nature to Nat. It’s an unexpected relief for Neveah to finally be able to put down all of her grief, without worrying that whoever is with her won’t know how to handle it.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc morgan #twc fanfic #my fanfic #neveah desanto #series; stained glass

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daisymakesstuff · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1 - Devastation

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: Morgan x Female Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Chapter Word Count: 2,801

Description: The Chamber forbids the detective from leaving the warehouse shortly after she gets a call about an emergency at the police station. When even Ava isn't privy to the details, Neveah is left to find out what happened herself.

Read on AO3

Morgan trails lazily behind Neveah as she rushes around the warehouse getting her things together like a pastel whirlwind.

“I have to go, there’s an–”

“Emergency at the station,” Morgan finishes. “Vampire hearing, remember?”

Some of the tension drains out of Neveah’s shoulders, and she sighs. “I’ll be back as soon as I can–”

Morgan cuts her off by tilting Neveah’s chin up and drawing her into a kiss. It’s a gentle, loving kiss, heated like hot coals.

“Go. I’ll be here when you get back,” Morgan promises. Neveah throws her an adoring smile, one that really tests Morgan’s resolve to let her leave.

In the end, she doesn’t have to. When Neveah turns around Ava is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. Neveah’s expression crinkles with confusion.

“We have orders from The Chamber,” Ava explains. “You are not to leave the warehouse until further notice.”

“But there’s an emergency at the station–” Neveah starts. Ava shakes her head at her, holding up a hand to stop her.

“I have been advised the Agency is handling the situation. You are not allowed to leave the warehouse.”

“Why the hell not?” Morgan growls at the news. Ava looks between them, her stoic expression softening a little with sympathy.

“They wouldn’t tell me,” Ava answers, irritation straining her voice.

It’s not that unusual for the Chamber to meddle in their affairs anymore, even if it pisses Morgan off every time. What is unusual though is for no one in Unit Bravo to have an inkling as to why it’s happening.

Neveah wilts as an understanding of the situation hits her. It has to be bad, and probably related to her, if they won’t let her leave. What could be so bad that even Unit Bravo isn’t allowed to know?

“We’re not seriously going to listen to them, are we!?” Morgan asks, though her angry voice isn’t quite as sharp as usual. Nevah’s come to learn that means Morgan knows she’ll end up going along with whatever it is and is just arguing for the sake of it.

“We’re not disobeying orders from the Chamber, Morgan,” Ava shuts the idea down immediately.

Neveah’s shoulders slouch with defeat. She turns to slink off to the kitchen. Ava seems entirely unaffected by the glare Morgan shoots her before she follows behind.

The kitchen is filled with bright natural light from the cool spring morning. The pleasant space and her cheery outfit seem to highlight Neveah’s worried expression as she slumps into one of the kitchen chairs.

“You all right?” Morgan asks.

“How am I supposed to help if I don’t know what’s going on?” Neveah asks, more to herself than her girlfriend. Morgan laughs with a resigned sort of amusement.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the point, sweetheart.”

“Someone has to know what’s happening. If I could just…” Neveah looks down at her phone, and her expression brightens with realization.

Morgan settles into her favorite shadowy corner as Neveah starts dialing anyone she can think of who might know something. She manages about 10 minutes of actually listening to Neveah exchange casual pleasantries with person after person at the Agency before she starts tuning out the words and just enjoys the cadence of Neveah’s voice.

Unfortunately for Neveah, even the insular Facility gossip seems to have been shut down temporarily. A few of the people she spoke with seemed antsy, but they weren’t willing to tell her anything. She scrolls through her phone to find another contact to call, but the incoming call screen takes over.

“Mrs. Jones!” Neveah greets her with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. Mrs. Jones is one of Wayhaven’s older residents. She loves to keep up with the local gossip, and is also one of Tina’s neighbors, so they run into each other frequently. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Det– Neveah,” Mrs. Jones begins, “I know you don’t do much detective work around town any more but I was wondering if you knew what was happening with all the commotion outside Detective Poname’s house?”

“Outside Tina’s house?” Neveah asks, trying to keep the note of panic out of her voice. Her act is good enough for the human on the phone, but it draws Morgan’s attention back to the conversation immediately.

“Oh yes, there have been a few black vans out front all day and strangers going back and forth around the area. They are very…brisk. Must be city folk, I think,” Mrs. Jones explains.

“Oh,” Neveah makes a noise of recognition at the description, pressing a smile onto her face even as her heart sinks into her stomach. “The situation is well in-hand, Mrs. Jones. Those are volunteers helping the police department.”

“I see, that’s good to hear,” Mrs. Jones answers back politely, though she seems disappointed with the lack of information. Me too, Mrs. Jones, Neveah thinks.

A pair of arms wraps loosely around her waist, and she turns her head to find Morgan resting her chin on Neveah’s shoulder. The touch is soothing, helping bolster Neveah enough to get through the rest of the call without spiraling into a panic.

“It is,” Neveah agrees, somewhat believeably. “Unfortunately, I need to go, but it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Oh, of course! You as well, dearie. I hope to see you soon,” Mrs. Jones replies.

Neveah disconnects the call, letting herself sink into Morgan’s touch. Morgan, of course, takes the opportunity to let her hands roam a little.

“You know,” Morgan purrs, “I have better ways to take your mind off things.”

Neveah barely seems to notice the flirtation.

“I think I’m going to keep calling,” Neveah says. Morgan nods, her hands stilling.

“Do you need me here?” Morgan asks. She means ‘here’ as in wrapped around Neveah. It can be hard to differentiate sometimes, but Neveah’s gotten pretty good at it over the years they’ve been together. Given the current circumstances, she would be hard pressed to get Morgan more than a couple of rooms away. That suits Neveah fine though; she doesn’t need that kind of space.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m okay. I’m kind of restless right now.”

“That offer still stands, you know,” Morgan says, taking a step back so she can give her girlfriend a long, leisurely inspection. “I have plenty of ways to settle you down…or rile you up.”

Neveah almost gets distracted by the suggestion, but Morgan has already settled back into her shadowy corner. Taking a deep breath, Neveah calls back the antsy desk clerk on duty she had spoken with earlier. The sound of the phone ringing seems to stretch on for much longer than it should. Neveah fidgets with the skirt of her dress to try and ease some of her tension at first, and then starts pacing around the kitchen.

The line finally picks up.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you again—“ Neveah starts. She feels bad about being so…manipulative, but this involves Tina. She would do almost anything for her.

“No, you’re not bothering me at all,” he reassures her, though his voice is strained.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet. Do you remember my friend Tina?” Neveah asks, as casually as she can manage. Simply mentioning Tina’s name seems to put the agent on edge. She just needs to go at it from the right angle.

“Her birthday is coming up soon and I know they’ve been so busy with the new baby. I was hoping to plan something special for her.” This part is true, at least. “Do you think I could talk to Adrian— Agent Pierson— quickly? I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

The phone line goes uncomfortably quiet for a few seconds.

“Uh, you know, let me just call someone for you—!“ the agent rushes out, putting her on hold before she can pry further.

Roughly 30 Minutes Later

That’s how Neveah ends up on the phone with the Facility’s director, getting the details on the situation. Morgan really shouldn’t be surprised. She’s personally watched Neveah use her kindness to break a Trapper during an interrogation, convince a race of supernaturals to reconsider their entire reason for existence, and win the alliance of an ancient celestial being notorious for not forming alliances.

Despite that, Morgan is still a little surprised and very impressed.

“There was an incident this morning where two locations in Wayhaven were ambushed simultaneously by currently unknown suspects. Two casualties and one injury were reported,” the director begins. Their tone is all professionalism, possibly reading directly from a report.

“The police station?” Neveah asks. A pit forms in her stomach swirling with the familiar nausea of dread.

“A police patrol,” the director corrects, “...and the Pierson household. Agent Pierson did not make it, but we were able to recover the Pierson’s child. He is safe in Agency custody at the Facility."

“…and Tina?” Neveah chokes out through barely held back tears. She has a white knuckle grip on the phone, leaning on the kitchen counter for support.

“Unfortunately…Tina Pierson was found dead on arrival.”

Neveah’s knees give out beneath her and Morgan rushes in to keep her from falling by wrapping a hand around her waist. She collapses further, hunching over Morgan’s arm with the force of her sobs. Morgan hauls her upright, twisting her around so she can cry into Morgan’s shoulder instead.

Through the buzzing of the phone Morgan picks up the director’s voice. “Agent Desanto? Agent Desanto, are you there?” they ask. Morgan wiggles the phone from Neveah’s hand and presses it to her own ear.

“She heard you. Call back later,” Morgan barks, aggressively ending the call and pushing the phone onto the counter. With both hands free, Morgan lifts her girlfriend’s legs off the ground and sits on the kitchen floor, settling Neveah in her lap. Neveah sinks into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Morgan as she wails into the crook of her neck.

Morgan’s first instinct is always to fight whatever has hurt her, but there’s fuck all she can do about this.

-------------

There’s a point where Neveah cries so hard that she has to gasp for breath between sobs, which worries Morgan enough she considers asking Nat to call a medic, but eventually the tears settle into shaky breaths. Neveah still hasn’t said anything, her shaky breathing ebbs and flows between almost calm to nearly-in-tears-again.

Morgan tries rubbing her hand on Neveah’s back. That’s what people do when someone cries, right? The movement is awkward and stiff, not exactly the kind of touching she’s used to doing.

It doesn’t seem to help, so she stops.

She has no idea how long it’s been when Neveah finally gets the strength to move again, wiping away the tear tracks on her face and slowly standing up. Neveah’s gaze lands on the wet spot on Morgan’s shirt, the burgundy of her shirt almost black with tears and snot.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” Neveah says softly.

“It’ll wash,” Morgan answers with a shrug. "Is there anything I can do?"

Neveah shakes her head. She turns around to look for something, but it devolves into more of an aimless pivoting while she flicks a blank stare from place to place. Her eyesight is fine, but her brain seems to refuse to process the information.

“What are you looking for?” Morgan prompts after a few seconds, when it’s clear Neveah’s not going to get anywhere in the state she’s in.

“My phone,” Neveah murmurs. Morgan grabs her phone off the counter, and hands it back to her.

“Thanks.” She shoves it into the pocket of her dress and wanders toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Morgan asks, more curious than anything else. Did she even know?

“I—I need to go to the Facility to check on Calloway. I didn’t ask how he was and he’s all alone now—“ Neveah has to take a few deep breaths through her nose to hold back another bout of crying.

“I’ll drive you,” Morgan says with a nod. Now probably isn’t the time to let Neveah know she has no idea who the fuck that is.

“You haven’t been cleared to leave yet,” Ava’s voice carries through the kitchen, firm but sympathetic. Once again she’s standing in front of the doorway, arms crossed. Her large, muscular frame fills out nearly all of the available space. Knowing the team leader, she’s probably been listening from the foyer this entire time, expecting exactly this sort of situation.

Neveah and Morgan’s gaze both flash to her at the same time. From the way Ava’s expression twists, whatever heartbroken look Neveah’s giving her is something Morgan doesn’t want to see.

“I just want to go the Facility. You always say it’s the safest—“ Neveah pleads. Her voice is already wobbling when Ava holds up a hand to cut her off.

“You can’t go right now,” Ava repeats sternly. Then she pauses and softens her tone, “but I’ll make some calls and see if we can get permission soon. If the child is at the Facility, they are safe.”

Neveah wilts in defeat, her breathing going quick and uneven like she’s going to cry again. Ava nods in approval, seemingly satisfied that she won’t try to leave again.

Morgan growls, positioning herself in front of Neveah. Ava knows this isn’t something Neveah would usually back down on. She’s just using Neveah’s vulnerability to her own advantage. Sure, if it were anyone else Morgan wouldn’t have any complaints, but it’s not anyone else. It’s Neveah . Morgan’s free hand clenches into a fist at her side, but Ava’s stoic mask is back in place now. She shows no further reaction to either of their responses, pivoting on her heel and leaving the room.

A quiet, single sob from Neveah is the only thing that keeps Morgan from starting a fight.

Instead, she turns Neveah to face her, staring into those deep brown eyes with an intensity she hopes will convey her message. Morgan can’t give her the comfort she needs, or bring her friend back from the dead, but getting her to the Facility? That she can do.

Whether Neveah understands or not, the eye contact seems to help either way. Even now, she looks at Morgan’s stormy grey eyes like they’re the most captivating thing in the world. Slowly, her breathing settles back down.

“Come on,” Morgan urges, “I need to put on another shirt.” She turns to head out of the kitchen and is nearly in the hallway before she realizes Neveah isn’t behind her. When Morgan looks back, her girlfriend hasn’t moved an inch. She just stands there, wilted and staring in the middle of the room. Morgan puts an arm around her shoulders, tugging Neveah to her side.

With the guidance from Morgan’s arm, Neveah numbly follows along beside her. She hates seeing her girlfriend cry. She might hate the listless staring even more, the way Neveah moves like a ghost, just an echo of a person trying to complete a task.

Ava’s on the phone in the next room when they get to the foyer. Good. The keys to the SUV hang on a hook by the door when they aren’t in Ava’s pocket. Morgan quietly pockets them as they pass through, heading down the stairs toward the bedrooms.

As they turn down one hallway to get to the next, Farah pokes her head out from around a corner, open concern on her face. She’s here to help, apparently. Morgan briefly flashes the key fob toward her and they exchange a meaningful look before Morgan continues the walk to her bedroom.

-----------

Morgan does actually change into a new shirt once they get there. Then, she waits until she can hear Farah making a menace of herself in the other room before sneaking Neveah out to the car. When Morgan opens the door to let her inside, Neveah climbs in after only a nudge and even buckles up on instinct. She doesn’t seem to actually realize where she is until they are a few miles down the road though.

“You’re taking me to the Facility?” Neveah asks hopefully.

“No. We’re fleeing the country,” Morgan answers sarcastically. She flicks her gaze briefly over to Neveah, hoping she didn’t just make things worse with the quip. It’s a relief when she finds Neveah looking the closest to happy she’s been in hours.

“Aren’t the guards going to know I’m not supposed to be there?” Neveah asks.

“Maybe. But by the time we get there it’ll be safer to let you in than send you back.”

The rest of the car ride passes in silence, but Neveah puts her hand over the one Morgan has resting on the console, squeezing gratefully. Morgan slots their fingers together.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #twc fanfiction #neveah desanto #twc morgan #series; stained glass

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daisymakesstuff · 1 year

Text

Prologue

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: Morgan x Female Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Rating: Chapter is T (for violence, surprisingly); Series is M but might get bumped up to E.

Chapter Word Count: 1,600

Description: A devastating tragedy leaves detective Neveah Desanto as the best caretaker for an orphaned infant, putting Unit Bravo in an interesting situation and a strain on her and Morgan's relationship.

Read on AO3

--------------------------

Morgan sparks up her cigarette, glad to find her lighter still works after so long without use. The gravel of the warehouse roof shifts underneath her as she looks over the edge. There’s a moving truck parked out front and Agency employees are bringing furniture into the warehouse with their usual efficiency.

She recognizes the crib when she sees it, and a rocking chair, but she has no idea what most of it is. Do babies really need this much stuff? Probably not. Nat was helping.

In hindsight, she should’ve known something like this would be coming one day. Maybe not a baby specifically, but the first known magical beast from the Echo World? A stray werewolf? Those are absolutely the kind of things her girlfriend would bring home. Neveah is a bleeding heart, and she’s always taking care of everyone. There was a mission a few years back that should’ve been a dead giveaway…if Morgan had looked past her own interests when it happened. That’s never really been her strong suit, though.

Deep in the Forest Outside of Wayhaven, Several Years Ago

With Ava and Farah having already downed the Trappers patrolling this area, Neveah and Morgan are hopeful they’ll be able to locate the supernatural they kidnapped. Nat, who stayed behind to look over the area maps, determined this was the most likely location given the routes the patrols followed.

A sudden, shrill sound grates on Morgan’s ears. Grimacing, Morgan activates her radio to communicate with the team. “The target is northeast a few hundred feet…sounds like it might be a cave of some sort. It’s too loud to get a read on how many Trappers there are, though.”

“Understood. I’m reviewing the area maps now. I’ll let you know when I’ve found a good entry point,” Nat’s voice comes over the radio. “Farah and I will circle back to act as additional support. Stand by until we arrive,” Ava orders.

Neveah stops, frowning when she cannot sense whatever Morgan has. “Wait, how do you know that?” She asks.

“Because the baby crying is making my ears bleed,” Morgan gripes. The youngest Neveah had ever seen the Trappers take were usually 12 or 13, and she had made the mistake of assuming that is what they would find here.

“A baby ?” Neveah’s whole demeanor shifts, a sudden determination taking over her face. She takes off, moving with impressive speed for a human, especially when she is in a dress and navigating a heavily-forested area.

“Neveah!” Morgan barks, but it’s too late. There is no talking her down when she’s like this. Morgan lets out a long-suffering groan and follows close behind her.

“I know the cave you’re talking about!” Neveah calls back.

“That’s not what I’m worried about, sweetheart,” Morgan drawls. She runs a hand through her dark waves, as though that might soothe the twinge in her chest that happens every time Neveah throws herself head-first into danger. “We’re approaching the location now,” Morgan mutters reluctantly into the radio.

“I told you to stand by, Neveah,” Ava scolds over the radio. She doesn’t need to be told to know whose plan this is. “There are supernaturals who rely on voice mimicry to lure their prey. This could be a trap.”

“You sent me because I’d probably be immune.” Neveah reminds her, breathing heavily as she continues to make her way through the trees.

“The ability could be physical—”

“And what if it's not? What if they’re actually in there?” Neveah cuts Ava off. There is no snark to her question, just the deep genuine worry that can play just about anyone or anything’s heartstrings like a fiddle.

Ava never answers, and Neveah falls quiet as she approaches the entrance to the cave. Neveah can finally hear the baby’s cries, their screaming echoes through the cave, faintly filtering out into the surrounding wilderness.

“Will you shut it up already!?” snaps a Trapper from inside.

“What does it look like I’m trying to do!?” A more feminine voice shouts back. They are both barely audible over the baby screaming. Morgan doesn’t think a creature with such small lungs should be able to make such a loud sustained noise.

It does provide a good distraction though, allowing Neveah and Morgan to peer in and get an idea of the situation. The cave looks to go much deeper and become a much tighter squeeze, but the cavern the Trappers are in is open and fairly flat.

There are four of them in total. One is off to the left digging through his backpack. Two are to the right, and one paces roughly in the center of the cavern bouncing the baby with an irritated scowl on her face. The kid is probably some sort of fae from the magic surrounding it. The aura isn’t particularly strong, but it’s way more than Morgan would expect from a kid so small.

Neveah nods toward the trapper to the left. She then looks at Morgan and tilts her head toward the two on the right. Morgan nods back to show she understands the assignment, and Neveah charges into the cave. At first, the fight is going well. There is a scream from one of the Trappers as Neveah no doubt gets the upper hand on him. Someone’s Volt clatters to the ground behind her, but there’s no scream or thump of a body hitting the ground.

Morgan is almost caught by the prongs on the Trapper’s Volt, but manages to dodge just in time, using the opportunity to counterattack. The woman goes down with a groan. Usually, the hardest part of combat with Trappers is not being allowed to kill them, but she’s distracted right now.

“Okay! Okay,” Neveah pleads, her voice tense with urgency and panic. Morgan stabs the Volt into her final trapper’s side absent-mindedly, all of her attention drawn to the scene behind her. “I’ll come with you. Just…please don’t hurt the baby.”

The final Trapper has the baby in one arm and is holding their modified Volt to Neveah’s back with the other. Neveah raises her hands immediately in surrender, her Volt clattering to the ground. It rolls a few feet away from her…and closer to Morgan. Morgan growls at the Trapper, drawing her attention.

“Stop right there, vampire! Come any closer and I’ll kill it!” Morgan hesitates, and it's not quite as fake as she wants it to be. This may be a ploy, but she knows Neveah really would sacrifice herself for someone else in a heartbeat, which means Morgan has to make sure it doesn’t actually come to that.

Neveah chooses that moment to act, biting down as hard as she can on the arm the Trapper is using to hold the baby. It works as intended, the pain startling her into loosening her grip so Neveah can take the baby away from her. Holding the infant tightly to her chest, Neveah throws herself backward to get away from the blue sparking end of the Volt the Trapper tries to lash out at her with, making sure to land on her back so she takes the brunt of the impact and all of the scrapes.

Not exactly graceful, but it gives Morgan the space she needs to pick up Neveah’s prod and jam it into the Trapper’s ribs. Morgan finds herself turning around before her enemy even hits the floor again, needing to make sure the detective is alright.

For just a moment, Morgan gets to drink in the sight of Neveah with her mouth coated in blood and a sharp feral look in her eyes. That image is going to keep Morgan warm for the next few days.

It fades quickly back into her usual soft, worried expression as she has the chance to regain her bearings from the fall. Neveah shifts her grip to support the infant with one arm so she can use the other to push herself up off the ground. She’s bleeding from a variety of cuts and scrapes, dress and cardigan ruined from the fall. Despite that, all of her attention is directed to the baby, who is entirely unharmed but still crying.

“Shh,” Neveah speaks softly to the infant, bouncing gently and patting its back to try and soothe it. “It’s alright now. We’re going to get you home to your parents.”

Morgan has to shut her eyes and hold her breath for a moment. The adrenaline fading, the kid’s screaming, the scent of Neveah’s blood, and the intense, confusing feelings the situation has inspired are all way too much in combination. She forces herself to concentrate on the sound of Neveah’s gentle cooing, ignoring everything else. The pain fades away almost instantly.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Morgan crosses to Neveah in a couple of quick strides, her hand gently grabbing Neveah’s jaw to draw her attention away. Warm brown eyes lock onto her almost immediately, and Morgan uses the opportunity to inspect her closely, looking for any distress Neveah might try to hide from her.

“I’m okay,” Neveah smiles reassuringly, “just scrapes and bruises.” Morgan is pleased to find it’s genuine and lets her go with a nod.

The baby’s screaming gradually peters out to hiccuping gasps, resting its head on Neveah’s shoulder and grabbing little fistfuls of her cardigan to soothe itself. The detective continues to rub the baby’s back with gentle motions, looking down at it with open care and affection.

As they trudge back toward the rendezvous point, Morgan is just grateful that she’s not the one having to handle the baby.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfiction #twc fanfic #neveah desanto #series; stained glass

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deepinifhell · 10 months

Text

WIP Title Ask Game!

Tagged by @sealriously-sealrious Tagging: @megatraven @thewayhavenchronicle @wlw-lovestruck-fiction and anyone who wants to feel free to loop me in!!

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. [I am ignoring this rule because I don't want to tag the same people for a third or fourth time lol] Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

Okay well...there are...a lot so I'm just going to stick with the Wayhaven ones lol. Rescue Mission - ChoiceScript, so technically for every RO & most detectives. The detective gets kidnapped for a month and drained for their blood. This follows the RO's finally getting the detective back and deals with various aftermath instances. related: Official Rescue Mission Versions - Nat x Louise , Morgan x Lauren, Morgan x Neveah, Ava x Ainsley, and Ava (LT) x Bernadette. As above but just for my detective OCs. Includes such gems like: Louise not wanting to prove Nat right and asking for her BFF (Morgan lmao) first before Nat.

You've Been Crying - Ava x Ainsley and Ava x Bernadette. Two separate Ficlets based on Ava answering the phone saying "You've been crying.", but two very different answers.

Pax Snippets (Technically Part 2) - Pax x Farah, not sure how to describe the format of this lol. Sequel to Pax Snippets from Book 2. Does things like explain Pax's pet name for Farah, Pax talks to Farah about aliens, etc. Also has little ficlets of Farah photo bombing Pax's "data points" (read: selfies), and Pax explaining the science of fruit.

Death? Absolutely Not - Inspired by the fact that if Farah died Pax would in fact become a necromancer, Farah almost dies but Pax is an ingenious disturbing little nerd and we don't have to deal with that.

Sick Fic - Neveah - Morgan x Neveah, as on the tin. Neveah gets sick, Morgan has no idea what she's doing. Aunt Morgan- Morgan x Neveah. This is where chapters 4-6 of Stained Glass live right now. The Cat - Morgan x Neveah, got put to the side for Stained Glass. Episodic series where Neveah has a really cranky feral cat that only kind of likes her.

Ava Angst - Ava x Placeholder detective I affectionately call "detective petty". In which Ava gets called out on her bullshit and is made aware of how much she hurts the detective.

Louise Mom Drama - Nat x Louise. In which Nat's tendency to constantly push for the detective to like Rebecca gets addressed.

Obedience - Nat x Louise. PWP. Louise needs a break from being in control of everything.

Lauren Jenkins Snippets - Morgan x Lauren. Snippets from the books except instead of the canon response the detective gives Lauren Jenkins gets to be even worse.

Book 2 Smut - Morgan x Lauren, technically a series of Explicit one-shots whose title doesn't match at all to the content. Well, the first one is smut from Book 2. Basically, Lauren and Morgan are terrible at emotional processing so a lot of their trust-building, emotional bonding, etc. happens during or around sex.

Depressed Bitch Shit - no canon detectives, various LIs. In which the ROs deal with the detective being depressed. Covers a variety of symptoms so yeah suicide/self-harm but also like "I haven't brushed my teeth in a week" and "nothing brings me joy."

#tag game #wip #wow there's so many

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daisymakesstuff · 1 year

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Chapter 2 - The Nanny

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: Morgan x Female Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Chapter Word Count: 1,596 Total Words: 5,999

Description: Morgan and Neveah head to the Facility to see Calloway Pierson and meet his temporary caretaker.

Read on AO3

----------------------------

At the Facility Gates

Morgan hates talking to people, but she reluctantly rolls down the windows to acknowledge the guards. She flashes her ID card and things are going well enough, but then one of guards’ eyes widen almost comically.

“Is— is that Agent Neveah!?” He asks in a panic, looking to the other guards on shift for confirmation. Unfortunately, none of their reactions are nearly as comical as the first guard, and involve a lot more frantic radio chatter.

Morgan rolls her eyes and groans, slouching back into the driver’s seat while she waits for the Agency guards to get their shit together. She seriously considers just driving through the barricade, but that would inevitably end with her having to deal with even more people. One of the guards eventually approaches the window. Morgan has to look down to see him. He’s maybe three feet tall with bright frizzy hair and beady black eyes. He puffs his chest out to try and make himself look more intimidating.

“Agent Neveah Desanto is supposed to be confined to the warehouse until further notice. You will need to return her there at once,” he announces gruffly.

Morgan’s lip curls in a half snarl. “We’re already here. So do you want to let us in or would you rather we leave her out here where she’s open to an ambush!?”

The man’s jaw clenches, clearly not having thought that far through the situation. It takes a few seconds, but he reluctantly waves them through the gates.

The Parking Garage

Morgan pulls the SUV into one of the spaces in the underground parking garage.

“Hey,” Morgan tries to get Neveah’s attention, but she’s not really listening. It reminds Morgan too much of the way she’d looked after the Anunnaki dropped a building on her, covered in gashes and bruises but just staring into space. Morgan squeezes Neveah’s hand. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear this isn’t casual affection.

Neveah blinks a couple of times, awareness coming back to her like a computer coming off of stand-by.

“Hey,” Morgan tries again. This time Neveah looks at her, glancing briefly at their dark grey surroundings. She doesn’t smile. “We’re here. You can get out now.”

Neveah gets out of the car. There’s a strange sluggishness to her movements, like her limbs are suddenly too heavy for her to carry. Morgan wraps an arm around her shoulders again to lead Neveah inside. It seems to help, however little.

“Do you know where we need to go?” Morgan asks. Neveah shakes her head.

“I’ll find out,” she says, quietly.

Outside One of the Guest Rooms

They find themselves in front of the right door without Morgan having to speak to or threaten a single person. Neveah’s watery, heartbroken attempt at a smile works just as well on other Agency employees as it does Morgan.

Neveah knocks softly on the door to the room, double checking the number she had hastily written onto a sticky note.

“Come in,” a voice calls. Neveah pushes the door open slowly, hesitantly, as though something will break once she steps inside. Morgan hangs back, lingering just outside of the doorway.

Already inside are a grey-uniformed agent, some sort of siren from what Morgan can tell, and a chunky-limbed infant with wisps of red curls and deep green eyes. Morgan can feel the fading magic the siren has used to make it so docile, even from out here. She doesn't really recognize the baby by appearance, but she remembers Unit Bravo piling into Tina's hospital room a few months ago to meet a baby, and figures this is the same one.

What is usually an Agency dormitory has been turned into a makeshift nursery. They’ve managed to make it just as bland, though. There’s a mesh crib in one corner, the desk has been turned into a changing table. Even the playmat and toys they have are all soft muted colors.

The Agency nanny minding the baby looks up at Neveah expectantly. She starts fumbling for her badge in her purse.

“I’m Agent Neveah Desanto. I’m— I was,” Neveah’s voice cracks, “a friend of the Pierson's.”

The nanny’s eyes flick briefly to her ID card. Then realization lights their eyes. “I see! You are earlier than I was told to expect. My name is Alewyn. I have been charged with the temporary care of Calloway Pierson.”

Their words are formal, but they don’t sound at all stiff or unpleasant. Neveah doesn’t say anything in response, biting her lip anxiously as she stares at the baby. “Can I…?”

“Of course,” the nanny nods. Neveah scoops Cal into her arms, cradling him carefully. The intensity of the emotions the simple action sparks threatens to overcome her like a wave. Relief that Tina’s son is safe. Grief, not just for her lost friend, but for the life Cal could have had if his parents were still alive. Guilt. If she had never told Tina about the supernatural—

Cal fusses, displeased with his current position, and that draws her from her thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she coos, voice wavering, “you only like to be held upright. I remember.” Neveah shifts him so his head rests just above her shoulder. He stares blankly out at the rest of the room.

Morgan’s phone starts buzzing insistently at her thigh and she sighs heavily. It’s almost certainly Ava, having finally realized Neveah isn’t at the warehouse anymore. Morgan pokes her head into the guest room.

“You good?” She asks, holding up her phone. It takes Neveah a moment to register the sound from behind her, but she turns around giving Morgan a wobbly smile while she gently pats the baby’s back.

“We’re okay.” Neveah nods to Morgan to encourage her to go take the call.

It’s only then that she does, taking a few strides down the hallway to keep out of (human) earshot. She drops the volume on the phone a couple of clicks, bracing for the team leader’s reaction.

And oh, Ava is seething .

“You disobeyed direct orders from the Chamber!”

“I disobeyed direct orders from you ,” Morgan corrects, figuring they might as well get to the actual issue at hand. The crack of furniture in the background only proves her point.

“Do you understand how much danger you put her in!?” Ava asks sharply. Morgan rolls her eyes.

“You’ve put her in way more dangerous situations than this one,” she snaps, sharply and with more venom than she intended. “I took her to the only place safer than the Warehouse.”

“Ava…” Nat’s gentle voice says in the background. Morgan doesn’t need to be there to guess what’s happening. Ava’s shoulders are tensed up to her ears, and Nat has a hand on her arm to keep her from exploding with rage. “Neveah just lost Tina. We told her to leave her closest friend’s orphaned child alone with strangers.”

There’s a long silence before Ava lets out a sigh, reluctantly conceding Nat’s point.

“...how is Neveah?” Ava finally asks.

“A little better, I think.” Morgan glances back down the hallway, where she can still hear Neveah’s heartbeat. “She’s holding the baby now.”

“Good.” Ava says. Morgan knows she cares for Neveah too. They all do, though it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that Ava didn’t care enough to put Neveah’s best interest first.

“Look, I’ll bring her back whenever the Chamber gives her clearance to travel again,” Morgan offers, as an olive branch. Ava grunts in acceptance.

“I’ll let you know when we receive the orders.” The line goes dead.

Honestly, that went a lot better than Morgan expected. If she’s lucky, Ava won’t bring it up again later. Shoving her phone back in her pocket, Morgan returns to her post: lurking outside the room. She glares at any of the staff who linger too long by the door, listening vaguely to the conversation inside.

“Did you watch him at all?” The nanny asks gently.

“Usually I was just visiting, but I’ve watched him a couple of times,” Neveah answers.

“Are there any routines I should know about? It might make him feel more comfortable,” Alewyn explains. That may have been a mistake on their part.

-------------------

By the time Morgan gets the terse text from Ava that they’re allowed to leave, she practically has to drag Neveah from the room.

“– after his bath, he gets lotioned with lavender baby lotion to help him sleep. Tina usually puts on the sound machine once he goes down. His favorite is whale noises,” Neveah rapidly explains as Morgan pulls her further down the hallway. The nanny, standing in the doorway, nods and smiles politely, as they have done for the last half hour. Eventually, Neveah has to pause to breath.

“Ava’s going to kill us both if we don’t get home on time,” Morgan grumbles at her.

“I know, I know, I’m coming,” Neveah says. To her credit, she does fall into step beside Morgan, though she periodically glances down the hallway long after they are out of sight of the room.

At first the looks are wistful, but grow increasingly anxious the further out of Neveah’s sight the baby gets. She looks back a final time as Morgan starts the car and drives away from the Facility.

“It’ll be fine. The Facility is the safest place for the kid,” Morgan says, in a vague attempt at consolation.

“I just—” Neveah never finishes her sentence, lapsing into a thoughtful silence instead. Morgan doesn’t press her on the subject.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fanfic #twc fanfiction #my fanfic #series; stained glass

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