#quincey bradford

[bookishcarmela]

Shadows of Affection

warnings: alcohol abuse

slow burn Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 2: The Zoo

As you made your way to the lunch hall, you spotted Felix and the others enjoying their meal. A few tables down, Sejanus sat alone at a table set for three, likely waiting for Corio and you. It was a routine, his ritual, always saving a spot for you even when Felix whisked you away before you could join them. His persistent attention toward you was evident to everyone, but despite your fondness for Felix, you hadn't quite seen him in that light.

you settled beside Sejanus, exchanging greetings and a small smile. "Congratulations on the reaping today. You got the pick of the litter," you said, trying to uplift his mood. But instead of a cheerful response, Sejanus sighed heavily. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy?" you inquired, to which Sejanus replied hoarsely, "You forget. I'm part of that litter."

His words lingered, echoing the struggles he harbored from his past, despite the decade he'd spent in the Capitol. you considered Sejanus a friend, but his refusal to let go of his past hindered his potential to embrace what the Capitol offered. "Sejanus," you began, your words trailing off as Corio's chair scraped against the floor, announcing his arrival. "Are you okay, Corio?" you asked, concern etching your voice. He looked pale well paler than usual, almost on the verge of sickness. Corio slumped into the seat, his normally composed demeanor crumbling. "I'm fine," he muttered, but the sweat on his brow and the discomfort etched on his face spoke otherwise. "Corio, you don't look fine," you pressed gently, leaning closer to him. Corio shook his head, his stubbornness evident even in his discomfort. "I said leave it, Y/n!" he snapped, his tone cutting through the air. you sat in silence for a few seconds as you absorbed the sting of his words. Anger and frustration surged within you, and Coriolanus let out a sigh. "Y/n, I'm-" he began, only to be abruptly cut off by the end-of-lunch bell.

Without uttering a word, you stood up and left, the weight of his scolding lingering. It wasn't that you werent accustomed to Coriolanus's temper; you had grown up together, and you had learned to navigate it. But you despised being scolded, treated as if you were a child. How dare he speak to you like that?

 The rest of your classes passed in a haze of frustration, and you dreaded the prospect of heading home. Luckily, school let out a little earlier due to the reaping, providing you the chance to head straight to my room without encountering Quincey. 

Quincey Bradford, the man your mother married just two years after your father's death, wasn't the result of true love but rather convenience. After your father's passing, your mother spiraled into a destructive cycle of gambling and drowning her sorrows in alcohol. your mother's gambling and drinking habits consumed everything you had. your dwindling funds vanished into the bottom of a bottle or at the turn of a card until there wasn't a single dollar left.You had nothing left. Even the rich were struggling in the war, but you were left with nothing. Survival became a daily fight in a world where having enough to eat felt like a luxury.

Desperation led her to marry Quincey, a move motivated by the need to ensure your basic sustenance. In the aftermath, she adopted the role of the dutiful housewife, maintaining a facade of normalcy. But as time wore on, Quincey's true nature started to show. His temper flared, and soon, your mother bore the brunt of his anger, suffering bruises and wounds hidden beneath forced smiles. She fell back into the abyss of self-pity and despair, and as you grew older, Quincey's temper extended its reach to you. He'd make spiteful remarks about your father's righteousness, only to fall when rebel's bullet finally found its mark, as if his demise were some poetic justice. 

Inspite of everything your mother stayed with Quincey and bore him two children: Benjamin and Charlotte Bradford. Benjamin, a spitting image of his father, possessed pale skin, black hair, and hazel eyes. On the other hand, Charlotte inherited the features of your mother, with tan skin, light brown hair, and dark brown eyes. Thankfully, at eight years old, they hadn't adopted the traits of either of their parents, and in the midst of our troubled home, Benjamin and Charlotte stood apart, untouched by the darkness around us. Their innocence was a comfort, a hope that they'd be shielded from your harsh reality.

As the car rolled to a stop, you reached home, grateful for the quiet. The silence signaled that Quincey and the children weren't around. Passing through the foyer toward your room, you spotted your mother passed out on the couch, a pricey bottle of wine in her hand. Calling for the maid, Christa, you instructed her to help your mother get cleaned up and into bed before your siblings returned. With that sorted, you retreated to your room, determined to finish some last-minute assignments before bedtime.

The perks of working with Dr. Gual included skipping class to assist in her lab. Currently, you were sorting paperwork while she tinkered with a new “experiment”. As you organized, you absentmindedly turned on the small TV nearby. The broadcast announced the arrival of the new tributes. Instead of the usual horse stables, they were being placed in the Capitol zoo—an intriguing twist for this year's Hunger Games.

Focused on your work, you disregarded the TV until gasps and awe erupted from the screen. You glanced over momentarily, catching a glimpse of the tributes being dropped into their enclosure. One of them bore an uncanny resemblance to Coriolanus. But That couldn't be right.

Your attention snapped back to the screen as you realized it was indeed Coriolanus Snow inside the tribute enclosure, hand in hand with his assigned tribute. Shock coursed through me as I noticed her wearing one of his grandmother's roses in her hair. "What the Fuck" I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. Why was he holding her hand? Why was she adorned with his family's emblem? What the hell was going on?

The thought that the day couldn't get any worse shattered when the camera panned out, revealing Benjamin and Charlotte, escorted by your inebriated mother, approaching the cage where 

Coriolanus and his tribute stood. you felt a chill wash over your body, your face draining of color at the sight. While other children hid behind their parents, Benjamin and Charlotte showed no fear. They boldly approached the cage, even extending their hands to shake with Coriolanus's tribute, the "little songbird" whose name you hadn’t bothered to remeber. Your mother, as usual, appeared intoxicated, hiding her eyes behind dark glasses. She seemed utterly unconcerned, heedless of the potential danger her children faced by being so close to the enclosure. 

The commotion and your surprised outburst drew Dr. Gual's attention, prompting her to join you to observe the screen. Her reaction was more amused than alarmed, and she let out a giggle, taking note of your clenched fist. you tried to calm yourself, but your tension only intensified as Coriolanus was pulled out of the cage by Peacekeepers.

As if on cue, a Peacekeeper entered the lab, saluting Dr. Gual and informing her of an urgent meeting requested by Dean Highbottom. you released a deep breath, preparing to resume your work as Dr. Gual left for her meeting. However, before you could settle back into your routine, she glanced back at you with a mischievous grin."Hippity hoppity, little dove, we have a meeting to attend," she said playfully, striding toward the door. you couldn't help but give her a curious look, following her.

As you entered the high biology lab instead of heading to Dean Highbottom's office, you couldn't shake your confusion. Why were you here? Dean Highbottom's presence only added to your perplexity, his gaze scrutinizing you before addressing Dr. Gual.

"Shouldn't you be in class, Ms. Royce?" he inquired, directing his question at you. you opened your mouth to respond, but Dr. Gual interjected smoothly, "I needed her assistance for an experiment of mine."

Her words held an element of truth—you had been aiding her with paperwork—but her insistence on having your help, specifically, was alittle puzzling but you didnt think to hard about it. Before the dean could press further, a knock interrupted, prompting an annoyed sigh from the dean as he allowed entry. To your surprise, Coriolanus stepped through the door, causing a jolt of shock and uncertainty to course through me. What was happening? You asked yourself 

Coriolanus and I exchanged surprised looks, both seemingly shocked by the presence of the other. 

You stood in silence until Dr. Gual broke it “ Hippity, hoppity.” Dr. Gaul grinned. “How was the zoo?” Then she was laughing. “It’s like a children’s rhyme. Hippity, hoppity, how was the zoo? You fell in a cage and your tribute did, too!” Coriolanus’s lips stretched into a weak smile as his eyes darted over to you for some clue as to how to react. You attempted to signal him subtly, urging him to follow along with her banter. "We did. We fell in a cage," Coriolanus finally replied, uncertain of where this conversation was headed. Dr. Gaul seemed to expect more, raising her eyebrows in anticipation. Your attempts to help Coriolanus seemed futile as he hesitated, prompting Dr. Gaul to coax him further."And?" she prodded, encouraging him to continue. "We... landed onstage?" he added tentatively Dr. Gaul chuckled approvingly. 

"You're good at games. Maybe one day you'll be a Gamemaker just like my little dove here," she remarked, playfully switching her attention between Coriolanus and you.

Then, unexpectedly, she directed a question to Coriolanus, "Do you know her, my little dove?"

Confusion washed over you. Dr. Gaul's antics seemed calculated, but her probing question made little sense. She was aware that you knew eachother, so why this charade?

Coriolanus composed himself and responded, "Yes, I am familiar with Ms. Royce," but Dr. Gaul's displeasure was evident. She frowned slightly before redirecting her attention to the dean.

"Me and my little dove have work to do, so we’ll get out of your hair. When you're done, come see me in my lab, Dean Casca," she declared, heading toward the door. You followed her out, shooting Coriolanus a lingering look.

The word "familiar" echoed in your mind during the return to the lab. Coriolanus's choice of words stung. Familiar, as if your friendship was trivial, as if you were just a foolish girl trailing after him like an idiot. Unbeknownst to you Dr. Gual’s little test for you had gone just as expected.

[kittlesandbugs]

Rating: G Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective Description: The detective comforts Nate during a bad storm when he's unable to keep himself distracted from it.

The lights overhead flicker briefly and Quincey wonders if the Warehouse is equipped with generators. The wind howls outside, tree branches scrabbling at the windows, as lightning flashes and thunder rumbles. It's been a while since Wayhaven has had a storm quite this strong. But she's tucked away her room with a soft blanket and a good book in Unit Bravo's Warehouse, half-underground.  Probably much safer than she would be in her rickety 3rd floor apartment. 

She jolts upright when a crack of thunder and lightning split the night  like it's right outside her window and almost rattles the foundation. The lights go out immediately after, and her question of whether or not the Warehouse has generators is answered when it remains dark. 

She sets her book aside now that reading is out of the question.  Her phone lights up the room and vibrates with a new message.  It's from Adam on the group chat, informing everyone that a tree went down on the power lines. Given the Warehouse's remote location, it will not be a priority for power restoration until morning. 

She shrugs, sets it to silent, and flips it over to not be disturbed by it anymore. She's not sure if she can sleep through the storm's noise, but given how late it is, there's nothing left to do but try. 

As she's dozing, she just barely catches a quiet knock on the door between claps of thunder. 

"Is someone there?" she asks half-groggy, and sits up. 

She hears the click of the doorknob, but she can't see anything in the pitch blackness.  It makes her nerves crawl, but the voice that follows puts her back at ease. 

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

Something in the timber of his voice is off and she frowns.  "No, I hadn't fallen asleep yet. Everything alright, Nate?" 

"...not really, no."

Lightning flashes through the window, illuminating the room, and even though everything is blurred without her glasses, she easily catches the deep flinch in his form as he approaches the bed. 

Is he… afraid of storms?  A memory of the carnival comes forth, of the house of mirrors, images of Nate on the ship and the blood and… it was storming heavily.  Shit. 

She draws back the blankets and pats the space next to her.  He's quick to climb in, long arms coiling around her almost like she's a teddy bear.  He buries his face in the crook of her neck and takes a shuddering breath as some of the tension leaks out of him. 

"Sorry," he mutters. "I know you need your rest."

She scoffs at the apology and pulls the blankets up over them. "You say that like I didn't just crawl into your bed in the middle of the night two days ago."

"You had a bad nightmare.  You needed comfort."

"And you need comfort now."

He groans into the cleft of her shoulder. "It feels so… juvenile."

"And you think I didn't feel that way, creeping into your room at like 2 a.m. for a cuddle?"  She runs her fingers through his hair. "We're partners. We take care of each other."

She feels his low chuckle more than hears it over the rain. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I mean, if it makes you feel better, that's pretty mutual."

"Maybe a little."

He can't see the lightning flash anymore from his position, but cringes as thunder rumbles loudly around them. 

She rubs soothing circles into his tense shoulders. "How come you've never mentioned storms bother you?" 

"It is typically not this much of a problem. I can tolerate most storms, usually with the help of a distraction." He relaxes again as the sound fades. 

"Is that all I am, a distraction?" she teases. 

"The best kind, and so much more, I assure you," he says, laughing. "But normally I just keep the lights on, play some music, try to lose myself in a book."

"But then the power went out."

He grunts an agreement and she presses her lips to the top of his head.

"We don't usually get storms this bad. Maybe once or twice a summer, tops."

"That's comforting, at least."

Curiosity niggles at her and she can't resist asking when he's being more forthcoming than usual about his own discomfort. "What did you do without a distraction, before I came into the picture?" 

"Sought out one of the others, usually Adam. Morgan and Farah both enjoy storms."  He nuzzles against her neck, breath tickling her sensitive skin. "Adam is sympathetic, but he's not nearly as soft and warm as you are."

The mental image of Nate attempting a similar position with Adam makes her choke on a laugh. "He cuddles?" 

Nate huffs his amusement in a sharp exhale. "Of course not."

"Shame.  I bet he could give great hugs with those arms of his."

He chuckles low and deep.  The conversation fades into an easy quiet.  With the thunder fading in intensity, his hold on her begins to relax.

"What about you?" he asks after a while.

She starts from the doze that had been sinking in. "What about me, what?" 

"You don't seem to mind thunderstorms."

She traces a random pattern along his arm with her fingers. "Storms don't really bother me."

"What does?" 

"Other than my newfound fears of needles and restraints?" she asks with a sardonic laugh. "Heights, actually.  Not like inside a building, secured. But being high up a ladder or tree or something is pretty scary to me."

"That does explain why I had to half-carry you down the fire escape," he teases gently. 

"I won't say it wasn't an influencing factor." She tenses at the reminder. They both know it was mostly a stubborn refusal to abandon everyone, but she isn't keen to linger on that particular event. 

"Sorry," he says, pressing a kiss to her neck.  He hums in thought. "What about flying?" 

Bless him for changing the subject.  "I actually don't know."

"You've never been on an airplane?" His voice pitches up in surprise. 

"Haven't really had a reason to.  I've never traveled far from Wayhaven."

"lf we ever need to travel on one, I will be sure to stay close." His lips curl into a grin against her skin. "Just in case."

Her chuckle ends with a long yawn.  "You just want to snuggle with me on an airplane."

He finally unearths his face from her neck and pulls back a little. She can't see anything in the pitch blackness, but it isn't hard to imagine the look of adoration in his brown eyes as he replies, "I would snuggle with you anytime, anywhere." She hears the smirk in his voice as he adds, "But it would also make a flight go much faster."

The storm dwindles to only the gentle patter of raindrops on the roof.  The mattress shifting and his warm breath featherlight against her face are the warnings she gets before his lips gently capture hers in a kiss.  

"Thank you," he says as he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers.  "I should let you sleep."

Her hand slips up to the back of his neck to keep him in place before he can retreat further. "I'd sleep better with you here," she murmurs, on the verge of succumbing to her rest. 

There's the breath of a laugh on her face at his own words thrown against him. "Well, far be it from me to deny that request," he whispers and settles back down beside her into a loose embrace. 

 When she wakes in the morning, he's gone. It's not unusual between their hectic schedules and his early rising tendencies.  But it would have been nice to have an excuse to linger a bit more. The beams of sunlight shining in through the high eastern window mark the sky clear and bright, and time to get up.  She rolls over and plucks her phone from the nightstand and squints at it. The battery glares an angry red.  She makes a mental note to take her charger with her to the station. 

The notification bar is lit up with three icons. One is the Bravo group chat. A brief glance at it reveals Farah chattering excitedly about the light show, intermittently laced with replies from Morgan and Adam. Probably what murdered her battery, but she's looking forward to reading the whole thing later over a cup of coffee. 

The second is from her mother, checking in after the storm. She pecks out an all clear in reply. Knowing the Agency's thoroughness, the Facility is probably already aware of the power outage at the warehouse and working on it. 

Almost as if on cue, the lamp on the bedside stand comes back to life. She kills it again with a chuckle. 

The final one is a private note from Adam.  'Thank you for taking care of Nate last night.' 

'No problem! 😊'

After a moment, she can't resist adding, 'He said I'm much more cuddly. You should probably work on that. 😁'

[kittlesandbugs]

Rating: G Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective Description: When the detective is out of town on police training, Nate wishes he could see her.  The solution is not as simple as it sounds for a man of the 17th century.  Set somewhere between Book 2 and Book 3. 

Inspired by @mstrchu​‘s Potataniel Zoom Comic.  Written with their blessing.

Nate frowns at the tablet on the table in front of him. He glances over to the clock on the wall. Still ten minutes to go for his appointed call with Quinn.  He half-regrets his words on the phone the night before, when he lamented being unable to see her while she is away for training with her department in another city.

Her solution is simple. Practical.  And unfortunately, technological.

He sighs and runs a finger along the reflective dark screen. Morgan said she had it all set up for him, ready in his email.  All he needs to do is turn it on and tap the link.  He hadn't known he even had an official Agency email until Quinn texted she'd sent the invite there. She must have gotten it from Rebecca. Since he'd never accessed it, whatever temporary password had been set long since expired. Getting that reset had been an absolute nightmare that had Morgan swearing at the tech support staff on his behalf.

But it would all be worth it to see Quinn's smiling face again. They'd both been too busy with work to see each other much, but not even being able to walk her home some evenings is torture. This week was going by far too slowly for his liking. 

"What'cha got there, Natey?" 

Nate glances over his shoulder as Farah saunters into the common room and wonders why he did not think to have this set up in his room instead.  But it wouldn't hurt to let her say hello as well. 

"Just getting ready for a video call with Quinn."

"Oooooh."  Her amber eyes light up with excitement. "Can I say hi too?" 

"Of course," he says and glances at the clock again. "Your timing is impeccable."

He hits the power button on the side and slides the unlock switch as Morgan showed him. True to her word, the screen opens up to an email with a blue link.  He taps on the link and the application starts up. 

But Quinn isn't there, only himself and Farah and some buttons. He frowns. 

"I can't see her.  Quinn, are you there? Is this working?  What is—" he glances back over his shoulder. "Farah, how do you work this thing?" 

She gives him an exaggerated shrug.  "I don't know, just press what feels right."

Why he didn't insist on a practice run with Morgan is beyond him, but she swore this program was simple. He taps a few of the icons and chokes as the image of himself in the common room changes into an underground cross-section and… a potato with his face on it? 

His strangled frustration lures Farah closer to see. She leans in over his shoulder and a smaller potato appears with her face on the screen as well. "Cool!  How'd you do that?" 

"I genuinely have no idea."

The screen suddenly shifts and his spudly portrait shrinks to thw cornee as an image of Quinn in her hotel room appears and fills the screen. 

"Sorry I'm late, Tina was…" she trails off as she takes in his warped video feed and lets out a muffled snort.  "Eye see we're having some fun in here."

Nate drags a hand down his face and groans at the pun. "Where is Morgan? She would know how to fix this."

"She went for a walk in the woods with Adam."

Code for they were beating each other senseless where they could do no harm to the facility. No chance of seeing them anytime soon. He sighs heavily. 

Quinn is still shaking with mirth as she says, "Hopefully Farah can help you get to the root of the problem."

Farah cackles with delight as she picks up the second pun. 

He purses his lips.  "Quinn, please."

"Although I have to say, this is a very appeeling look for you."  She can't hold back anymore and loses it completely, pounding the table beside her and howling with laughter.

"Appeeling!" Farah shrieks in his ear and he winces. 

Even Nate has to agree that one is pretty good, but it doesn't help his predicament.   Contrary to Quinn's suggestion, Farah is more of a hinderance than a help in solving his conundrum as she starts suggesting icons at random.  It takes him a few minutes to find his way back into the video settings he'd stumbled upon before and finally rights it back to default. 

"Finally!" he exhales sharply. 

Quinn pulls off her glasses and wipes the tears from her eyes. Once settled, she focuses back on his and Farah's blessedly unaltered image. "Nice work!  So, everything good in Wayhaven?" 

"Nothing exciting to report here today." He casts a sideways glance at Farah and thankfully she takes his hint. 

"I'll let you two lovebirds be. But we should call again sometime and see what other fun pictures there are!"  Farah gives cheerful a wave to the camera. 

Quinn waves goodbye to her. "Absolutely. I've never looked at them before myself!" 

The door clicks shut behind Farah, and Nate settles in front of the tablet with a smile. 

"Well, we got off to a rough starch but—" 

He groans and drags a hand through his hair, not sure if he can handle anymore shenanigans this evening. 

Quinn leans in close, dragging his attention back to the screen. The tenderness in her pale blue eyes and voice makes his heart lurch. "—but I'm glad you got it working. I miss seeing you too."

The brief torment he suffered getting to this moment pales in comparison to the joy her admission brings.  He wants nothing more than to draw her into his arms and kiss every freckle across her nose.  Distance makes that impossible, so he settles with the warmest smile he can muster and trails a finger along the edge of the tablet.

"And I, you. Tell me about your day," he says, leaning in just as close to his camera. "I want to know every detail."

[kittlesandbugs]

what's the twc pool fic??

Okay so this is pool as in pool table game not pool as in swimming. And my idea was that Quinn would play a game with Nate. But she is secretly a total pool shark. And she kinda fakes her way through a practice game with him, lets him "teach" her and shit. Eventually slips and makes a trick shot that could absolutely not be a fluke. And then they play a second game for keeps and Nate is onto her.

But it never got far off the ground because I couldn't make the absolutely crucial decision of WHO THE FUCK IS RUNNING THIS PERSPECTIVE.

Anyway, here's a bit:

He saunters over, leaving Farah to her turn. "Have you played pool before?" he asks as he swirls the amber liquid around in his glass.

"I played some in college," she says as she roots through the bottles for a spiced rum. Her lips twitch into a smirk he can't see at her own understatement. She quickly hides it and feigns innocence when she stands again. "Probably a bit rusty now."

He chuckles and takes a sip. "Would you care to play a game with me?"

She splits a bottle of coke over two glasses with rum. "Sure, I'm down when you and Farah are done."

"That shouldn't take much longer." He returns to the table and retrieves his cue as Farah swears heatedly when she fails to pocket one of her balls.

She did make progress though, two of her striped balls are no longer in play.

Quincey hands Farah a drink and leans against the wall as she studies Nate. She isn't surprised to see his practiced form as he sinks his last solid into a nearby corner pocket. She's yet to see him flounder at anything unrelated to combat.

The benefits of seemingly endless time are many.

"He's really good," Farah mutters quietly though they both know he can hear her. He's too polite to act like he can. "I'm pretty sure when he misses its on purpose for me."

"I think I can handle it," Quincey replies, hiding her grin in her glass.

[kittlesandbugs]

Bad end au!

Okay the premise of this is that there's this one line Nate has

and Adam actually caves. But all he allows is the picture. This happens before the detective goes to the hospital so. You know, after she goes to the hospital to badger the blood tech for the results, she uh. Finds Murphy. And doesn't know he isn't human. So she tries to arrest him. It goes. Badly lol. Anyway here's a snippet under the cut.

A commotion at the front desk draws his attention as Officer Poname rips the phone out of Friedman' s hands. She turns away, speaking in a hurried hushed tone he can't quite make out through the closed door, despite his enhanced senses.

Before he can move to indulge his curiosity, the door flies open as Nate returns, tawny skin ashen and brows drawn tight.

"Adam, we have a problem. The detective is—"

Officer Poname shoves in beside him. "The hospital just called! They said Quincey shot their blood technician and now they've both vanished!"

Adam's fist slams into the filing cabinet next to him, leaving a dent that ensures its drawers will never again open. He ignores the stunned gasp from Poname.

"What should we do?" Farah asks quietly after the noise fades.

With a last ditch mental prayer, Adam pulls out his phone and dials the detective. The phone rings once, twice, three times. He's almost ready to give up when the call connects.

"Detective Bradford, where are you?" he demands.

It is not her voice that answers.

"Did you know she has you listed as Agent Asshole on her phone? Quite the impression you've made." A cold chuckle. "I'm afraid the detective is ah, indisposed at the moment. And I don't have time to entertain dogs of the Agency."

There's a sound of rushing air and a crack before the line goes silent. A fractured spiderweb appears across the face of his phone as he almost crushes it. He drags a hand down his face.

"He has her."

[kittlesandbugs]

Rating: G Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective Description: Nate rouses the detective in lieu of an alarm after spending the night together. Set in Book 3 I guess lol.  Prompt fill: lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up (for @gingerbreton)

 Tree-fractured beams of sunlight creep in through the high eastern windows of the Warehouse, drawing Nate from his doze.  He sighs. Morning always comes much too soon for his liking, especially with how late the nights have run. The lack of sleep isn't a problem for him, but for the ever dutiful, ever punctual detective snuggled up against his side. And she has work today.

 He glances down at her, pillowed on his chest over his heart, her arms coiled around his middle. Much as he is loath to disturb her rest, he had promised the night before that he would wake her on time, despite the scant few hours until dawn.

 "Quinn," he says quietly, running his fingers through her short tousled blonde hair. "It's morning."

 She grumbles something incomprehensible in reply and rolls off him onto her back. Freeing him up for whatever he needs to do, no doubt so she can continue sleeping.

 It's a shame those two things are at odds this morning.  A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he considers giving her a more… compelling reason to rouse.

 He sits up over her, bracing himself on an arm and leans down. He presses his lips to hers softly. A tiny moan escapes her as reciprocates in kind, eyes still closed, and he isn't certain if it's instinct or if she's playing opossum.

 He receives his answer when he pulls away and her hand snakes out from under the blanket.  She grabs him by the collar of his pajamas and drags him back down for more.  He chuckles and lets her pull him in for another round, turning from soft to insistent and needy.  He breaks away again when she needs to come up for air, settling back on his knees.  

 She lies there, finally opening her eyes and catching her breath, and gives him a lopsided grin. "Good morning to you, too."

 His lips cant in a grin. "How's that for a wake up call?"

 "Probably the best I've ever had," she says with a laugh and sits up. She stretches her arms up over her head, and his eyes linger on her taut, exposed belly. "What time is it?"

 Nate pulls his watch from the bedside stand and frowns. "Quarter to seven."

 That gets her moving. She grabs her glasses from her own bedside stand and kicks back the blanket. "Just enough time for a speedy shower and then we can grab breakfast at Haley's."

 He grunts an agreement and gets himself up as well. "Meet at the gate in fifteen?"

 She pauses at the door to her bathroom and gives him a thumbs up over her shoulder. "It's a date."

 As tempting as it is to follow her in, he knows how serious she is about being on time for work.  He takes a moment to remake her bed before heading to his own room to get ready.  Breakfast at Haley’s could be just as stimulating.

[kittlesandbugs]

SPOILERS FOR BOOK 3 DEMO.

Rating: G Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective, Adam du Mortain & Female Detective Description: The detective retreats to the training room after fighting with Nate.  Adam stops by for a chat.

Tagging @gryffindordaughterofathena​ by request.

Padded fists strike the training dummy in a staccato that echoes through the training hall. Beams of moonlight drifting in around the trees outside offer minimum illumination, but she doesn't need any more than that. There's just her. The dummy. And her fucking thoughts she's trying to pound out with every strike.

She isn't made of glass. And the fact that he tries to protect her as such galls in ways she can't find the words for.

She switches to kicks and damn near knocks the dummy from its stand. She's stronger, faster than she's ever been, even at her supposed physical peak at the training academy. So why can't he trust her to keep herself safe? To keep herself alive?

Against supernaturals is one thing. Even with the power of her blood, she can't stand toe-to-toe with them. She knows that. She accepts that. But she can handle humans. She's always been able to handle humans. Training with supernaturals has made dealing with humans almost simple aside from numbers games. But they've trained for that too.

Back to fists, she strikes the solar plexus, throat, draws back and punches the dummy as hard as she can square in the nose. It teeters wildly before finally crashing down. If she wasn't so fucking exhausted by everything, she might have cared about the noise.

The echo fades and all that's left is her own harsh breathing. She sinks down onto the mats, splaying haphazardly in a mirror image of the dummy she'd conquered.

"He meant well."

She peels the gloves off and drags her sweat soaked bangs back from her face

"... I know."

Adam's bare feet creak on the mats as he pads over to her corner. He picks up the dummy, sets it back in its proper place.

"It scares him."

"What, me wanting to fight? To protect myself?"

Adam stares down at her with his icy green eyes and rolls them. "The thought of losing you."

He says it like it's obvious. And it is. She just doesn't want to think about it.

She scoffs it away. "Does he not think I feel the same way?"

"It is difficult to consider our own mortality," Adam concedes as he sinks down cross-legged beside her. "Especially when compared to the mortality of a human."

She frowns at him. "I'm not helpless. You've made sure of that."

"I have done my best. You did very well against the Trappers." His lips cant in a smirk, and she doesn't miss the glint of pride in his eyes that creates a swell in her as well.

His gaze turns serious again. "He's not able to be objective anymore to the thought of you in danger. And neither are you with him. What did you think you would accomplish, striking the annunaki like that?"

"I wasn't thinking," she admits with a sigh. "I was terrified, stressed out, and after he struck Nate like… I just… I lost it."

He nods. "And you don't think it was the same for him, suddenly faced with a horde of Trappers determined to take you from us?"

Her mind flashes to his face, near breaking as he leaves her behind in the trees.

"Quinn, I—"

Her breath hitches in her throat and she swipes a hand across her face as tears she'd been damming finally break through. The fight with Nate sours her gut, bile rising when she thinks about it. Thinks about the words knotted in his throat. It's too much on top of everything else, and she can't even begin to reconcile with him when she's so overwhelmed. Can't bear to say the wrong thing, to make it worse.

He says nothing, a stoic presence that's somehow comforting just by being there. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder, heavy, grounding. She's grateful for it and his quiet as too much raw emotion leaks from her.

"... I'm scared, Adam," she says finally as the tears slow and she wipes them away.

His fingers tangle with her hand and he gives it a squeeze. "I know."

She holds on desperately to the offered comfort. "Not just for me. For Nate. For you. The whole team. This… this mess. It isn't going to go away."

"It isn't. It will likely get worse." His agreement sends a shudder through her. "But we are a team. We will draw strength from each other, and do what we must to get through this."

"You are strong, Quinn. Don't ever forget that," he says and pulls her to her feet as he rises. "But don't let it blind you to the fact that you are still human. And with that comes risks that cannot be ignored no matter how much you wish otherwise."

He pats her shoulder and leaves her standing in the training hall, alone once again.

She pulls a towel from the rack and scrubs her face, but nothing can hide the rawness of her eyes, help the congestion in her head and her soul. She knows what she has to do. And she can't rest until she does.

She needs to talk with Nate.

[kittlesandbugs]

Rating: G Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective Description: When Nate wakes up healed after Sanja's rescue, he's surprised to find the detective actually stayed the night with him.

Nate rouses slowly from sleep.  He feels better than the night before, that much is certain, but stiff and still tired. Between the amount of energy required to heal his own wounds and the strong painkillers he’d received the night before, he was still a bit muddled.  

It takes him a moment to realize he isn’t alone.   He turns his head to find the detective where she’d sat the night before, her small hands still entwined with his much larger one.  Only now, she’s slumped over in sleep, legs hanging half off the bed.  A blanket is draped over her and her glasses are folded neatly on the bedside stand.  The work of a nurse checking in on him, he suspects.

Her head rests against his headboard, face tilted towards him, neck craned at an angle that can’t possibly be comfortable.  He starts to sit up and freezes when she mumbles and shifts slightly before settling again.  He isn’t sure he can bring himself to disturb her.  He certainly doesn’t  want to. Not after everything they’d went through the day before.  Not when the only other times he's been privy to her sleep, she’d been hospitalized.

When he’d asked her to stay the night before, his bleary intent had only been that she would stay until he was fully asleep.  This was… endearingly unexpected.  

The door to his room slowly opens and Farah’s amber eyes peek in.  He shakes his head and gestures with his free hand for her to be quiet, nodding towards their sleeping detective.  Farah’s face lights up in glee and she closes the door with barely a sound even to his enhanced ears.

Sadly, there’s no avoiding disturbing her rest now.  The doctor will be checking in once it’s known that he’s awake.  The Agency was efficient in all matters.

He fully sits up and turns to her, brushes back the shaggy blonde hair from her eyes with his free hand.  Long lashes flutter open and reveal her sky blue eyes.  

“Good morning, Quinn.”

She blinks owlishly at him in the dim light and squints at him.  

“...Nate? You’re okay?”  Her voice is thick with sleepy confusion.  She sits up and swears, finally releasing his hand to rub at her stiff neck. Her other hand trails across the bedding in search of her glasses.

“I am, thank you.”  He reaches around behind her for her glasses and sets them in front of her wandering hand.  Her fingers slow as they glide across his and curl around her glasses.

“Thanks.”  She rubs the sleep from her eyes before slipping them on.  She eyes him critically in the dim light, and he takes the opportunity to do the same to her.

He's relieved to note, other than the large bruise that’s bloomed across her jaw and the same tiredness he feels lingering behind her thick frames, she looks none too worse for the wear taken the day before.  His hand drifts up to trail through the sleep mussed hair plastered up the side if her head and he chuckles.

She flushes bright pink and squeaks out a "what?"

"I'm just relieved you're all right," he murmurs.  "And… pleased that you stayed as long as you did.  I did not expect to find you here when I woke."

Her gaze drifts down to the duvet and he feels her pulse quicken as his fingers drift down to her stiff neck. "I— the doctor said you needed rest to heal and… you said you would rest better if I was here… so…"

He chuckles again, this time at his own inability to predict this outcome knowing her tendency to do nothing in half-measures.

Vampires did not need sleep often outside of intense healing, and Nate disliked doing it more than most. His dreams were not something anyone would enjoy. But for once, his rest had been absolutely dreamless.

He tilts her chin up, careful to avoid the angry marled bruise, to meet her flustered gaze.

"I did rest well, truly. Thank you for staying."

A brief knock on the door before it swings open startles away the smile that had been creeping across her features. He mentally swears as she shies away from him.  She stumbles from the bed, caught in the blanket. She rights and untangles herself, and sets it on the bed.

The doctor enters, a nurse following with a small cart. The scent of blood in bags washes over him. He's suddenly very aware of how hungry he is and swallows, glad now for the distance between him and Quinn.

"I should go. And check on Morgan," she mumbles.  Her gaze flicks back to his.  She doesn't seem aware of his hunger, much to his relief.. "Can I… visit you again later?"

He mentally reins himself in and gives her the best smile he can. "I would enjoy that very much."

[kittlesandbugs]

So uh I Wayhaven'd and made a detective.

Her name is Quincey (Quinn) Bradford and she loves her tall, sweet vampire boyfriend. 😊

[kittlesandbugs]

Wayhaven summer time! 4, 8, and 16?

4: Favorite thing to drink during summer? 🍹

Quinn likes to drink Arnold Palmers (half tea/half lemonade) in the summer. Nate thinks it's a crime to do that to tea, lol.

8: Camping or cruise? 🏕️🚢

Camping! She gets seasick on the open ocean.

16: Watching fireworks or stargazing? ✨

Stargazing! Fireworks are fun too, but stargazing isn't reliant on planned excursions. Quieter too, lol.

Wayhaven summer asks!

[kittlesandbugs]

For wip game! 4, 5, and 6 please

4- Last sentence written? (FHR, Double Riley Trouble)

Melodrama does nothing for you, however, and you roll your eyes. "Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"Apparently."

Fuck, he's snide. If you weren't bound, you'd punch him. "So, who are you? I'd like to know who I pissed off enough for this shit."

5- Last sentence on an angst wip (Mass Effect, post Reaper War)

He shakes his head. “Who knows? Whatever you did to take out the Reapers wrecked the comms and relays. They’re working on it.”

She falls back against the pillows and stares at the ceiling, grimacing. How much had she broken the galaxy trying to save it?

6- Last sentence on a fluff wip (TWC post-carnival undercover date lol)

"Quincey Marie Bradford, you went on a date with that handsome tree yours and you didn't tell me about it?" Tina looks at her with mock indignation, clutching her chest dramatically. "I thought we were friends!"

"I didn't— It wasn't—" She falters under the realization she can't blow their cover last night, heat flooding her face. "That's not my middle name…" she finishes lamely.

Ask Meme: make me dig in my hoard of WIPs

[kittlesandbugs]

Tagged by @impossible-rat-babies (TY! 💜) to make my OC in this picrew. So here's Sidestep/Reckoning flavors of Riley (FHR), Torque (FHR), and Quinn (TWC).

Tagging @bearlytolerant, @ellstersmash, @th-ink-first, @punkranger, @sidestepping, @youngkingnothing