The high you feel hearing the crowd after a performance is one that can’t be replicated. Not even the strongest drugs can make you feel this…alive. Nothing else in the world can make you feel this alive. 

Aside from Seven, of course. 

But if the danger of the drug is measured by how strong the addiction is, you fear Seven Lawless is definitely the worst. 

Or best, depending on how you look at it.

That thought runs through your mind now when Seven takes your hand and motions to the bathroom. Your friends are too busy riding that post-performance high by dancing together, and you look away from them to give Seven a nod.

The sly, evil smile that rises on his face makes a shiver run down your spine, and you allow him to pull you through the crowd. 

When you two reach the bathroom, Seven looks under each stall as you throw cold water on your face. You’re panting, sweaty, and your skin still burns with heat from the performance. When Seven is satisfied that you two are alone, he turns to look at you through the mirror. The secret smile on his face makes your skin burn hotter, and you’re certain that performing on stage to a stadium of people won’t ever hold a candle to how he makes you feel with one look.

He keeps his eyes trained on yours when he walks over to you, stopping to stand behind you. A lump forms in your throat, and a swell of excitement and nervousness rises in the pit of your stomach when he puts his hands on the sink, looking away from the mirror to tilt his head at you, gazing at your face. 

“Hi.” 

You manage a smile when you drag your eyes away from the mirror to turn your cheek, meeting his eyes. “Hey.” 

His humor fades away once his eyes settle on your mouth and you subconsciously lick your lips. Doing the same to his own, he appears debate something for a brief moment. Then, with heated eyes, he leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. 

The action is cautious, delicate, which is funny considering Seven was just head banging on stage minutes ago. You can taste the strawberry chapstick on his mouth, and the heat of his tongue against yours makes your legs feel like goo. Kissing Seven is still something completely new to you. 

After being best friends for years, you thought you knew all there was to know about Seven. It’s only recently that you discovered there’s a version of him you were completely in the dark about. Like how he kisses. How, sometimes, you look at him while you two are singing on stage and feel like he’s undressing you with his eyes. Or how he makes a certain sound in your mouth when you kiss him just right. A sound only you can pull out of him. 

When he pulls away, it’s too soon. He smiles at you. “You did really well on stage tonight.” 

“Is that why you brought me to the bathroom?” you say with a smile of your own. “To compliment me?”

“Maybe.” Your nose brushes his when he moves his head to kiss you again, chaste and brief. You ache for more. “Are you disappointed? Is it not enough?”

“Not nearly,” you admit, the words leaving you in a sigh. 

His eyes glitter with happiness and he chews on his lower lip in thought before saying, “I like when you want me. For a long time, I wasn't sure if you did. Well...I hoped you did."

You hate how easily saying things like that come to him. “So do I.” 

“Well, I want you all the time so that’s not really anything special…” 

You sputter out a laugh, looking around the bathroom. Like most club bathrooms, it sits in disrepair from lack of maintenance. It’s dirty, and hardly romantic. When you look back at Seven, he’s looking at you with half a grin, already knowing what you’re going to say next. “Even now?”

“Especially now.” He looks at you. “Sweaty from performing and we’re alone…”

You snort and Seven smiles before he leans in again. All pretenses flee, and your skin grows hot when you turn fully to face him. He presses his body against yours, pushing you against the sink. 

You deepen the kiss, your hand going to his neck, pulling him closer. Seven’s chest vibrates against yours when he groans, his palm reaching under your shirt to swipe across your stomach, the heat of his skin against yours making your desire shoot up until you feel yourself reaching between you two, your fingers toying with the zipper of his pants. Feeling exactly just how much he wants you.

Seven pulls away, putting his hand on yours, stopping you. When you look at him, he shoots a pointed look at the door. Understanding, you smile and push yourself off the sink, grabbing his hand. It’s your turn to lead him and you do so to one of the empty stalls. 

The moment you lock it, Seven is on you. He pushes you against the door of the stall. He stifles your gasp with another kiss, this one hurried and urgent as if time is running out. 

When he pulls away to kiss your neck, you bring a hand to his hair to guide him. The strands are soft between your fingers, and Seven smiles against your skin. And then, between kisses, he says, “When do you think we’re going to tell the band about this?”

“Never,” is your immediate reply, and his kiss melts into a bite that makes you stifle a moan. You drop your hand from his hair to the waistband of his pants, forcing it down his hips. “They’d never let us live it down.” 

You and Seven have been hiding away for the past few weeks. You don’t remember the exact reason why you two agreed not to tell anyone, but it had something to do with “not ruining the delicate ecosystem of the dynamic” whatever that means.

“Do you think they already know?” he manages, the words coming out strangled when you hook a finger over the band of his boxers, pulling them down. "They must have an idea." Seven swallows when he follows your gaze to the space between you two.

“Don’t know,” you say, kissing him again. He bites your lower lip in playful warning and you pull away to spit on your hand. “And right now, don’t care.”

“Eventually we’re going to have to tell the—oh.” You know exactly how to shut him up. Your hand wraps around him and he jerks his hips forward, unable to stop the moans from leaving your lips. 

You kiss him again, and he puts two hands on your cheeks. You've barely settled into the rhythm he likes most when the bathrooms swing open, and Seven’s eyes widen. Sensing another groan from him, you put your hand on his mouth and his brows furrow together in panic. Then you quicken your pace and his drops his head against the door, his face melting back into that expression of carnal pleasure you like to see so much. Seven completely forgets what he was worried about. 

“…you think we’ll be able to come back next week?” You almost choke the moment the voice rises in the air, and your hand falters. Seven makes a frustrated sound in his throat and he puts a hand on your arm, urging you to continue. 

“You heard that?” Iris asks. 

You look at Seven with wide eyes, and his brows furrow in faux innocence. “Mfhfnmf?” he mutters against the skin of your palm. You want to scream in frustration—at Devyn. At Iris. At their impeccable timing. 

You hear the doors of the stalls slamming open and Seven shoots you a look. Ah. Shit. The last thing you need is for your friends to find out you and Seven are…whatever you are right now. 

You step back and Seven fumbles for his pants, grumbling in disappointment as he buttons it closed. You look around, uncertain at first, before you step on the toilet so only one pair of feet are seen in the stall. Seven spins around in confusion, not knowing what to do with his hands and...with himself, and you point at the door so he understands. 

“I swear I heard that,” Iris says. “What if someone is dying or something?”

“It’s…me,” Seven calls out. His voice is thick with desire, still hoarse from what you two just finished doing.

Well, finished isn’t exactly the word. 

“Seven?” Iris ventures. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just felt sick,” he responds, looking back with a shrug. The heat in the pit of your stomach hasn’t gone away, and when he looks at you, it takes everything in you not to tell Iris and Devyn to fuck off somewhere. 

“You need a hand?” Devyn asks.

"A hand?" You hear Seven snicker, and you want to kick him. Though you can't stop your own smile. "Nuh-huh. I'm not throwing up or anything." Seven puts a cheek on the door, then his hands. He looks like he’s getting irritated. You understand—you want them gone.“I’m alright. I’ll meet you guys back outside.” 

Your legs are starting to hurt, you shift in order to give your muscles relief, but the toilet seat moves with you, making you slip. 

You scream, because what else is there to do when you're slipping face first off a toilet seat?

“Wha—” Seven barely has time to spin and catch you before you’re crashing into him, making his head clatter against the door. The sound echoes against the bathroom, and your friends are gasping.

"Ow..." Seven groans.

“Seven?!” A moment later you see Iris peeking out from under the stall, her eyes widening. “[MC]?”

“Heyyyy,” you drawl out casually, your body slumped over on Seven’s as he uses his arm to hold you up. He uses the other one to open the door, and it swings open pathetically until Devyn and Iris are looking at you with twin expressions of surprise. 

“Hey.” Seven nods his head in greeting, smiling awkwardly. He puts his hands together to lock his fingers behind your back, holding you to his chest.

Devyn glances at the both of you, lips parted. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

“I…uh.” He swallows. “Thought I had a bowel problem. [MC] was just helping me in making sure nothing wrong’s down there.” He forces out a laugh. "All good."

You look at him, wanting to beam your disappointment into his brain. Really? That’s all you could come up with? 

“Ugh.” Iris waves a dismissive hand, walking away. “You two are so fucking weird sometimes. Go to the doctor! It's not normal to be that close!"

"You have no idea how close we are," Seven mumbles, and you nudge his rib. He coughs, and then smiles again.

Devyn stands there, not so easily convinced, but then she follows Iris out anyway. Not without shooting you two a look. 

When they’re gone, you two glance at each other. "I think it's time we tell them." You detangle yourself from him, adjusting your clothes.

Seven lets out a laugh, letting his head fall back against the stall wall.

"This is inappropriate."

Even though the words are said through a throaty hum you can feel against your lips, you don't stop nipping at Orion's throat. He sits with one arm propped, the other on your back as you straddle him on the edge of the bed. Orion, with all of his complaints, is hilariously compliant. He moves his head to give you more space for his neck, shuddering when your biting turns to salacious swipes of your tongue.

"Should I stop?" you ask through your kisses, your words muffled. The question has Orion's arm gliding over you to hold you tighter, the answer loud and clear.

"Are you trying to give me a hickey?" he asks. His voice trails off when you lick just the right spot, making a small squeak of a whimper leave his lips. You've learned that Orion is a vocal participant, his breathy reactions only encouraging you further. "You know..." His throat bobs when he swallows. "Cameras." He can't even form a coherent sentence, which is the most satisfying part. "I will be on my best behavior."

"I doubt that—" In one swift move, Orion grabs you and rolls you over until he's hovering over you. You're breathless from both surprise and excitement. He has you pinned with his hands on either side of your face, and his cheeks are flushed.

"Can you imagine?" He says, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, featherlight. It makes your body shudder. "Us doing this in a room of executives?" He brushes his nose against yours with endless delicacy, teasing you. So close and yet not quite there. "Forced to watch?" His mouth goes to the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing your skin until you're swallowing. "Think of the scandal."

Another thing about Orion Quinn? He's a cheeky bastard.

You can hardly breathe, especially not when Orion sits up, towering over you as he begins unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes stay on you, his fingers deft and skilled, your gazes never breaking.

"You—" You swallow, propping yourself up on your elbows. "You would faint if that were to happen."

A low laugh escapes him, but his gaze turns hungry, heated at the thought. Almost as if fainting isn't what he would do at all. "You're right. HR would have me ruined."

"You are HR!" You lift your hand to put it on the last button that remains, fully intending to unbutton it for him. Orion puts his own hand over yours, directing it over the buckle of his belt. Your mouth waters. You know exactly what he wants, and he's not shy about telling you. "Knowing you," you swallow, using two fingers to remove the loop of the belt from the buckle, "you would punish yourself." "Saying that in this context is quite suggestive." He grins, taking the belt off and tossing it aside. Your fingers get to work on the button of his slacks.

"I'm being completely serious." You bite your lip, your body heating when he grabs your hand and plants a chaste, loving kiss to the inside of your palm, removing his pants with his other hand. "Get your mind out of the gutter, horndog."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all.

Wayhaven is such a promising series of books that fell so flat with book 3, even though some could argue there were already issues popping up in book 2. I, personally, enjoyed it just as much as the first one, but that's up to anyone's opinion. Hold on, this deserves a whole list.

My personal and biggest gripe, MC's relationship with their mom. To write something so complex and then chuck it down to two choices (the choices being "forgive your mom" or "don't forgive your mom and everyone will make you feel like a piece of shit") feels so disappointing, especially if you consider what people with parental issues usually deal with irl. Of course there are people who choose to forgive their parent or not, but more often than not (and, as a result of that, what feels most realistic to write in a book) they end up somewhere in-between - it's a bittersweet relationship which you can either choose to continue or not, but the past memories and missed childhood can't just be forgotten and thrown under the rug. That's what MC's relationship with Rebecca could've been, too: a *complex* relationship that can either continue or get cut off completely, and it's a choice that should be respected, because a child that has been neglected has the full right to not trust their willingly neglectful parent again. And to some degree the author does try to achieve it, but in the end you will still have only two choices. And also, in Wayhaven you can literally feel what option author considers to be correct and not choosing that gets you punished severely, e.g. the carnival situation and every dialogue where you choose to not be cordial with Rebecca (the author never forgets to mention how you made everyone feel terrible. "Congrats you piece of shit, you ruined everything because you just can't accept that your mom wants to be buddy buddy again, ugh.") This pattern of turning complex situations into only having yes/no answers, with a negative choice having severe punishments, is such a recurring pattern throughout the whole book series that at this point it feels like a feature that I just didn't get (e.g you don't even get a choice if you want to join the agency or not, you just do, because that's the correct option). Also, I don't believe that literally no one, not even MC's best friends or partner, would try to see their side or god forbid agree with MC cutting contact with Rebecca.

You can literally feel that N and A are supposed to be the star children of TWC. While it was less obvious in book 1, it can't be ignored anymore in books 2 and 3. It does feel even more weird because M and F have the darkest complexions out of the cast, and are depicted as overtly sexual/flirty for absolutely no reason, to the point that sometimes it literally contradicts what the author established about the characters before (M can't handle most fabrics touching their skin and can't eat food because the taste of anything is too much for them, what do you mean they are hypersexual?? isn't sex one of the most stimulating things you can do that can literally be too much for a lot of people that don't even struggle with overstimulation on a daily basis??), but it doesn't feel appropriate to say too much on this issue as I'm literally as white as paper, not to mention that this topic has been brought up by many POC in the IF community who can have more nuance on this situation than I ever could. I can, however, talk about how inconsistent and over-exaggerated M and F's personalities are, compared to A and N feeling much more realistic and well-paced. I hate how M and F are mischaracterized in their own universe and all the meaningful things are overshadowed by "haha M likes sex and is lewd and aggressive" and "haha F is a silly lil' goober". Their romances suffer from it too, which brings me to-

The romance routes could be so much better. And I'm not talking about N or A obviously, even though that's another can of worms that I, frankly, don't want to open, but F and M. M is dumbed down to being aggressive, sexual and borderline feral at times, which are all GREAT traits to give all at the same time in your book to a person of color btw (they're not), but their scenes perform best when the author acknowledges that M is actually none of those things. Just them existing in the same space as MC and feeling at ease and relaxed (and, dare I say, vulnerable) feel much more intimate and rewarding than literal sex scenes, and I feel like that's what romance with M should've been about: two people, who are both lost and confused and overwhelmed in this new to them world (M from memory loss, MC from being thrown into the supernatural scene) bonding, finding comfort and familiarity in each other. Breaking all that buildup with innuendos and sexual propositions feels unnecessary, to be honest.

Continuation of the previous point, but the same could be said about F too. Poor F, the forgotten child of TWC; they're my absolute favorite, and it hurts to see them being thrown somewhere in the background as a comedic relief side character so many times. I feel like they could be the character who gets MC the most, even if they're not dating or particularly close. They have a difficult relationship with their mom, they're thrown into an unfamiliar world that's hard to navigate and it feels like everyone wants too much from them. You can't tell me that it's not some great exposition for a deeper connection between F and MC, both romantic and platonic, as well as an opportunity to explore anxiety and impostor syndrome/separation anxiety (not interchangeable, just feels like either one could fit F) in a seemingly optimistic character. But nah, they like Rebecca and are just a funny little fella. Definitely not playing into more media stereotypes of the only black character in the main cast being a flirty comedic relief.

At this point TWC is going to rival One Piece on the amount of meaningless fillers. And they wouldn't feel so meaningless if the author didn't try to mix slice-of-life and supernatural, or at least didn't mix them so poorly, but most of the time an occasional meaningless scene is thrown into the plot for some short-term tension for what feels to be absolutely no reason other than increasing the word count. Take the blood drive thing as an example of this: what was this scene for?? It started unnecessary tension, had a weird solution and just offered nothing to the rest of the book except for allowing Bobby to finally confront the RO of choice in a very awkward manner. I feel like the author promising 7 books (correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember something like that mentioned in the earliest tumblr posts) feels like a the author chewing off more than she can bite. And it sucks, because had she not had that amount of books (and subsequently a gargantuan word count) looming over her head, we could have had more actually meaningful and fulfilling scenes like ones in the bakery, literally my favorites. It could benefit the pacing, worldbuilding and reader enjoyment greatly.

Victoria: Victoria likes to dominate the kissing, but she also likes to savor everything. Slow and passionate, she likes being held. She's romantic in everything she does, and she wants arms around her or she want her arms around theirs, pressed against her as if there's a danger that she may never kiss that person again if they let go. She likes having her hands in their hair or on their neck, she likes feeling the body warmth against hers. And she likes being kissed on her neck lol but she likes taking the lead on things.

Seven: is a frantic kisser, spurred by passion lol. They kiss with their whole body: their hands are everywhere, feverishly seeking closeness wherever they can. It feels on-brand for Seven to want to be as close as possible, every piece of their skin touching. Seven likes touching…a lot of touching. I have this image in my head of Seven having a cute habit of rapidly kissing all over MC's face whenever they say goodbye because a kiss on the lips is just not enough.

G: G is frantic. Hands everywhere, quick but deep and passionate. G is a very good kisser, and they like going fast and hard. (pfft). Oddly enough, they are similar to Vic in the sense that they like their body pressed against the person they're kissing. They want to feel that person completely. For MCs who are willing, they do like pulling on clothes a lot, as if wanting to take it off ha....

Orion: Like Vic, Orion is a bit dominant when he kisses. He likes leading, and he's more of a neck kisser. Like he doesn't just kiss, you know? He's also a 'hands-on-cheeks' kind of guy, and a lip biter. Orion...is not a hesitant kind of person when he's all in. He knows what he's doing, and he likes to make sure the other person knows it.

August: has their own kind of confidence. They kiss quite slowly, but with a lot of ease and skill that makes it feel like August is just trying to taste every inch of the person, taking their time but also doing it passionately. August may be a bit of a tease, actually. They kiss slowly but well enough that they know they have left the other wanting more.