#twc fanfic

[nreads]

Mishka had an old ask where MC jokingly proposes to N after seeing the warehouse library. Based on that, I thought about an A-mancing detective who is also a bibliophile revealing that they had the same impulse:

MC: You know, N, I nearly asked you to marry me after seeing the warehouse library.

N, smiling: Is that so?

MC: Yes, almost dropped down on one knee and everything.

N laughs and is about to say something before they are interrupted by A

A, shoulders tense, trying to keep their voice casual: You are aware, Agent, that several books in that library are my contribution?

All eyes snap to A. A shifts in their seat, regretting saying anything.

MC, pressing their lips together to suppress a smile, their voice full of amusement anyway: Do you want me to propose to you?

A, with tight voice: Of course not.

MC, F, and M laugh, and even N has to hide a grin, and A's shoulders just keep getting more tense.

F whispers to M: They realise they aren't even in a relationship, right? And they're joking about proposing?

M : They're idiots.

[nat-seal-well]

sweet tooth

(or, less than 900 words of Nat/Ava. this might get posted to ao3 later.)

When Ava kisses her, Nat tastes rich. Not the kind that comes with living for as long as their kind does, but rich in all the ways that her second-in-command seems to revel in.

Ava tastes the cocoa of the cake Nat had at the cafe during their stake-out earlier, under the guise of coffee and lunch: cocoa, and the sweet cream filling between the sponge layers. She closes her eyes at the sensation of Nat’s lips slotting against hers, warm and soft, and recalls the way Nat had run her tongue over the silver fork; an action as innocent as it was impossible to look away from as she savored every bit of the dessert before her.

In all of their centuries together, Ava still cannot understand it, even as she tangles her hand in Nat’s hair to keep her close to chase the taste on her lover’s tongue. Food is wasted on them, and yet Nat still indulges anyway. She prefers sweet over savory, Ava has learned after countless observations, but has a penchant for baked goods, like the cake she ordered after an unneeded Cobb salad lunch.

He’s still there, she’d said, referring to the pawn shop across the street that their target had vanished into. We can’t very well leave until he does, can we? Besides, if we don’t get dessert, we’ll raise suspicion when we linger.

It was sound advice, even when Ava knew it was just because Nat wanted to satisfy a craving. She still insisted on being the one who paid the bill anyway, slamming down a handful of bills on the metal table when they had to go chasing after their target not even five minutes later. Nat had to leave her cake only half-finished, a fact that she was still mourning, even though they turned their zip-tied and subdued man over to the Agency two hours ago. Up until Ava kissed her, that is.

When they pull away, Ava takes a moment to relish the taste of the woman she pulled into her lap. She nuzzles at the underside of Nat’s jaw and traces the sharp edge with her nose. It makes Nat laugh. With them as close as they are, Ava can feel the sound as it washes over her.

“It’s unlike you to be so forward, Commanding Agent.” Nat purrs. She only likes to invoke Ava’s name when she wants to be flirtatious, a fact that does not go unnoticed.

Ava presses her lips in an open-mouthed kiss to Nat’s throat, and tastes the perfume there. “You were going on about how lunch ended; I only wanted to see if it was as good as you were making it out to be. I know how you are.”

Manicured nails undo the knot at the back of Ava’s head to comb through her hair. They scratch deliciously over her scalp. “Oh? And what’s your verdict on the flavor profile?”

“Delicious,” Ava responds, but it is not the cake she is thinking of.

“I didn’t take you for much of a sweet tooth,” Nat teases as she toys with the hair at the nape of Ava’s neck.

Ava turns her head to kiss the soft flesh at the inside of Nat’s elbow. “I am not, under normal circumstances. But you are always the exception.”

It is a truth too close to her heart—she cannot bring herself to make eye contact afterward, afraid of what this fragile hint of admittance might bring, but her concerns are chased away by a hand wandering down her side. It ghosts over her shirt, down one thigh, and comes to a halt only when Nat reaches the silver buckle of her own leather belt.

Of course, Nat does not linger on the implications of what Ava said. She smooths them over instead, the way she always does, and focuses on what she can expand on in order to keep Ava from running. Even when she knows what Nat is doing, she finds she is unable to do anything but freeze and wait for her orders.

“Well, then,” Nat says, low and for no one else in the world to hear but her. When Ava finally scrapes enough courage together to look up, Nat’s eyes are as dark as the cocoa in the cake they have both had the pleasure of enjoying. “If you’re still in the mood for something sweet…”

Pale fingers replace Nat’s own, and the metal buckle jingles as Ava allows her hands to lapse into motions that have been repeated so many times, they are nothing but muscle memory. This, she can face: the physical action and sensations Nat wants to offer. The easy way out, rather than the tender part of herself hidden away, bricked up and safe between the junction of her fourth and fifth rib.

Perhaps one day Ava will be able to face her without feeling like a coward, but for now, she must settle for the squeeze of Nat’s thighs around her waist as she carries her closest companion to the bed that waits for them.

It is enough, she tells herself, and she almost believes it.

[lykegenia]

The Lingering of Ghosts: Prologue

For other people, a romantic weekend away at a fancy hotel in beautiful, desolate Dartmoor would entail days of luxury and refinement. For Leah, however, still adjusting to the newness of her relationship with Nate, the supernatural always finds a way to ruin her plans. With a mysterious death and a string of disappearances to investigate, it's a race against time to discover what's going on before the veil between worlds thins too far with the turning of the year. Something is stalking in the dark, and the locals aren't the only ones with secrets. TWC Nate/Leah Rating: E Warnings: None Romance, Mystery, Angst, Fluff

--

The desk lamp flickers, the only source of light. In so isolated a place, the electricity supply is always fragile, but with the roar of the storm outside, there’s a good chance it’ll go out altogether. As long as it keeps up until the task is done…

Rain lashes the windows. There’s no time. Water drips from the figure’s ancient anorak, mud trailing a line of footsteps from the hall where the shovel has been left propped by the door, but the mess will have to be cleaned up later. The girl should not have come.

With a sigh, a sodden shoebox is placed delicately on the desk, sagging and disintegrating at the corners so that a gleam peeks through of reddish bone and yellowed, curving teeth, an almost eldritch awareness to it as the figure shuffles about the shadowed room gathering objects in a seemingly random order. Their fingers are chafed raw, gnarled and swollen with cold, crusted under the nails with dirt. When the tools are finally all assembled – candle, salt, pin, a plate of ash, and an old carrier bag of the same earth caking the shoebox – they take great care in lifting the skull free of its temporary prison. They raise it to the light, brush the caked mud from its eye sockets as gently as if it were a child.

The book containing instructions for the ritual stands open on a mount on the desk, with a transcript of the words scrawled below on a grubby bit of paper. The figure refers to it as a match is scratched to life to light the candle, their intonation wavery and uncertain, but not stumbling.

First, a circle of salt around the plate and the candle. Then the soil, tipped onto the pile of ash and mixed well with a pinprick of blood. The figure winces, but doesn’t pause speaking. Disinterested, the skull gleams in the flamelight as it is set upon the altar, as the candle is brought close enough to make the wax drip over its features in bubbling, translucent streams. The final words are uttered, the intention set.

For an instant, nothing.

Then, a wave of cold shudders through the room. Rain slams against the window with renewed force, rattling the glass in its frame. Without warning, the electricity cuts out. The figure holds their breath, then breathes out, gaze caught on the wilted spider plant at the edge of the sphere of candlelight that just a moment before was green and vibrant. A small price to pay. Taking another slow breath, the figure bends over the desk and blows out the candle.

[itsmistyeyedbi]

late night courage

Pairing: F!Detective/Farah Hauville

Word Count: 2,5k

Prompt: First

Tags: @happyhauvillebday

Summary: Dinner at Tina’s leaves much food for thought for Farah. The conversation that ensues takes a turn that neither of them were expecting.

She never knows what to do with…this.

With people like her, genuine and hopeful and bright. People who choose to be those things, to embody them, despite the experiences they have and the things they've seen that give them every right not to be. Zuri admires them and their spirit that seems to be as sure as the rising sun. She can never quite grasp that kind of strength, no matter how much time she has spent imitating it. She can be warm and hopeful…and genuine, when she let's herself be.

But what's a heat lamp to the sun?

It's nothing compared to the real thing.

And yet, some of them are drawn to her anyway. Like a moth to a flame, not realising that the warmth they want to bask in is not as gentle as the sun. It could burn them to a crisp, because there is such a thing as being too close for too long. It could burn them, even though it doesn't want to. Even though it craves their company, their touch.

It would be easier if she could stay away but she never really can. She never really wants to. So she falls into a familiar song and dance of getting as close as she can without letting them in, giving as much warmth as she can without burning them, keeping her distance when they get too eager and fly closer to the flames than they should. That push and pull that never satisfies but keeps them safe.

How much is that safety worth?

Farah makes her question that everyday.

Zuri is questioning it now with Farah at her side, the back of their hands brushing against each other as they stroll towards her car. Her pinky twitches and she glances at her, her heart stopping for a second when their eyes meet. It's taking everything in her not to take her hand in hers, to feel their fingers intertwine.

She looks away, focuses on her surroundings instead - the sound of their footsteps are accompanied by the chirping of crickets, softening the silence of the night. The sky is dark and speckled with stars, a gentle breeze makes the skirt of Farah’s dress tickle her skin, her pinky grazes hers and there's a fluttering in her stomach-

Okay, this isn't working.

Zuri swallows and moves her hand away to hold it in her own instead, massaging her palm with her thumb. She needs to get a grip. They've been alone for what, two minutes? And her impulse control reverts to the one she had in highschool - useless in the face of someone who has an interest in her. She won't be rash about this, not when it comes to her. Not when she doesn't think she can give her what she wants.

The fluttering turns into a churning when she catches the disappointment on Farah's face.

She hates how often she causes that. She never wanted to be the reason she feels that way. But the little disappointments are better than the one that would come if they were something more…right?

Zuri turns around and leans against the hood of her car, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she smiles at Farah. She returns it as though she was never anything less than content, the streetlight closeby bathing her in a golden glow, tracing the curves of her face and bouncing off of the coils of her hair. God, she looks like an angel.

“Did tonight go the way you hoped it would?”

Right, the dinner. With Tina. It..slipped her mind for a second there.

She shrugs one shoulder, peering at the house they just left. “I figured it would go well the moment you agreed to come. You two are pretty similar, I couldn't see you not getting along.”

“That's to be expected when I'm the type of company you keep. Who wouldn't like me?” Farah gestures to herself with a grin.

Zuri shakes her head, laughing softly before they fall into silence. Something about the question lingers in the air between them. Or maybe it's just in her head and Farah is being her usual self. Either way, she doesn't know what to do with it yet.

So she changes the subject.

“Speaking of the company I keep,” she raises a brow. “What were you and Tina talking about when I was gone?”

Farah's eyes widen and then she laughs, the sound making her heart stir in her chest and before she knows it she's doing the same. Softly, just like before, so she can hear her laugh ring out around them and imprint itself in her mind again.

“You're still thinking about that?”

“Yes, you were being all sneaky about it! I wanna know what was up.”

It's a genuine question, despite the timing. Something was definitely going on with them and were a little too enthusiastic while dodging her questions. They're clearly already a duo she'll have to keep her eye on.

“It's nothing crazy, seriously. We were just talking about you.”

Zuri turns her head and narrows her eyes. That's the obvious answer so it doesn't tell her much.

“Me?”

“Yup.”

Farah watches her gleefully, rocking back and forth on her feet. The silence continues for a few short seconds before she scoffs playfully. “Don't act like you didn't know. You mean a lot to both of us, of course we'd talk about you.”

Zuri’s hands press against the hood of the car as she leans forward and aims a light-hearted glare her way. “I know that I was the hot topic of the night. What I don't know is what about me was being discussed. So spill.”

“We were talking about how you're doing,” her grin softens into a weak smile as she rubs the back of her neck. “Or how you're not doing. In a general kind of way.”

“Oh.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. How did that even come up among the conversations about supernaturals and how wrong books and movies have been about them? Was Tina worried about her? Was Farah? Did something she say make them think they needed to be?

“Man, Tina warned me about this but I thought I'd manage to make it home before caving.”

Zuri blinks and looks up at Farah. When did she look away? How did she manage that when she's standing right in front of her, her eyes the colour of honey when it's held up to the sun, framed by long lashes and soft with concern.

“It's funny,” she continues with a frown on her face. “I've been talking about how busy things have been lately and how we barely get to spend time together, but…it's always been busy for you, hasn't it?”

“I don't know, has it?” Zuri can't say it hasn't been busy. The little moments she's managed to steal away for herself feel like they happened months ago, fleeting as the flicker of a light. And even those moments couldn't be deemed relaxing, not when a part of her was holding its breath, waiting for the next threat to her life.

“You can tell me,” she urges gently. “You know that right?”

“I know,” Zuri sighs. She deserves a more honest answer than that. “I guess it has been busy.”

Farah offers her a wry smile and steps closer to her. “That means this probably isn't going to be as easy in the future.”

Wait what?

“What? Us?”

“Oh, uh- well, I mean,” she lets out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to the ground before meeting her gaze again. “I meant us spending time together but that works too. But now that I think about it, I don't know how easy either of those things have been.”

“You know that isn't because of you, right?” The words rush out of her mouth before she can think or process the surge of shock she felt. “If anything hasn't been easy, it isn't because of you. You being around is probably the easiest part about all this.”

“That's a relief to hear. I was getting worried for a second,” Farah jokingly wipes her forehead but the motion is too stiff to be playful, the relief too obvious in how the tension in her face eases.

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about on that front.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she mutters before shaking her head and continuing before Zuri can respond.

“Anyway, what I'm trying to say is - it's okay to not be okay after getting sucked into all this supernatural business. I don't think anyone would be if they went through half the things you've been through. And I hope you know that whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, or just…need me, I'll be there.”

She pauses and leans forward, her shoulders raised close to her ears as she smiles sheepishly. “We all will be, but I am hoping you'd sorta kinda want to come to me first,”

She's far too sweet for her own good. Zuri chuckles, her eyes lingering on the curve of her lips before looking back up at her. Warmth blooms in her chest and spreads across her cheeks while she wraps her arms around herself.

“You'll be the first to know when I need a shoulder, I promise,” she says softly. “And um, thank you.”

Farah nods and rubs her arm with her hand, her face growing pensive as she takes a breath. It doesn't seem like she's finished yet. Zuri watches her, trying to reassure her. She can wait however long she needs to to hear more of what she has to say.

“And about that ‘us’…you don't have to worry about that.”

Zuris stomach drops when she says that. It must show on her face because her eyes widen and she frantically corrects herself, waving her hands in front of her.

“Nono, I'm not saying- what I mean is you can take your time. There's no pressure, I'm not going anywhere,” she reaches up to fiddle with the unicorn pendant hanging from her neck. “But whatever you decide, whenever you decide it, I hope we can still spend time together like this. For however long we can before some bad guy swoops in to steal you away.”

Shit. Zuri doesn't want her to think she doesn't want her. She does, more than she's wanted anyone in a long time. She just… doesn't know how to do this anymore. To make something last. As much as she wants to erase any doubt Farah has in her mind, it wouldn't be wise to rule out the possibility of there being no them, would it? They've been walking the razor's edge for months too, so who knows if she'll even want her afterwards? She could move on from her, find someone who's worth all the waiting she's done.

Zuri looks down at the cobblestone road. The thought of that hurts more than it should.

Shit.

Say something!

“I-” her voices hitches, she clears her throat before trying again. “I…don't know how much time we'll have to spend like this.”

That's what you chose to say. Great work, Zuri.

“Neither do I,” Farah's feet enter her view before a finger and a thumb is on her chin and tilting her head up, amber eyes unwavering as she gazes at her. “But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. You are so worth trying for.”

A shaky breath leaves Zuri’s lungs. Everything inside her comes to a halt, like every part of her wants to focus on nothing but the sound of Farah's voice. Like her words have stunned her entire being into silence.

That's just it, isn't it? That's what matters, if someone is worth trying for, outcomes be damned. And she believes that she is, despite…well, everything.

“Zuri? You okay?”

Something inside her comes undone, and a wave of emotion washes over her, kickstarting her body into gear and slowly forming a lump in her throat. She might not know how to do this, but for her, she'll try. She'll do whatever she can to make this work, no matter how scared she gets or how heartbreaking the end is. Being with her is worth whatever pain might come. And if she's the reason for any burns, she'll make sure to be the balm too.

It looks like it took Farah saying what should've been obvious to her out loud for her to get it.

Wow.

“Yeah,” she blinks a few times and clears her throat. “I'm okay. I'm okay.”

Farah lets go of her chin, barely moving an inch before Zuri’s hand grabs hers, her grip gentle as her thumb runs over her knuckles.

“Farah, I- you're so,” laughter bubbles up her throat, brief and maybe a little bit hysterical as she covers her face with her free hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. You're cute when you're flustered,” Farah says with a wink.

Zuri smiles bashfully and stares down at their hands. Her skin is warm and smooth against hers. She squeezes it gently and swallows before continuing. “You're worth trying for too. You always have been and I… feel a little ridiculous that I'm only really understanding what that means now. I'm sorry it took me this long.”

“Um, no problem,” Farah stares at her for a moment, eyes wide and lips parted. “Is this going where I think it's going?”

“Yeah, it is.”

She beams and rises on the balls of her feet before quickly settling herself down. Zuri's heart flutters in her chest. She seems so excited, ecstatic even for them to finally be in a relationship. She shouldn't keep her waiting any longer.

“I know you've wanted what's been going on between us to be something real. Something more than flirting that doesn't go anywhere. I wish I could've given you that sooner but,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to quell the doubt creeping into her mind.

She holds Farah's gaze and lets it spur her forward. “If you still want that, want me, I'd like to give that to you now-”

Farah flings herself at Zuri. She lets out an oof as their bodies collide and arms wrap around her neck. “Yes! Please do! Like, right now if you want to.”

Zuri giggles and wraps her arms around her waist, breathing in the burst of zest and citrus from her perfume. Their hearts beat in tandem against their chests, hands clutching at each other as they hold each other close; she's so warm… holding her is like holding the sun.

Farah gives her a squeeze before pulling away enough to see her face. “Of course I still want you. I never stopped, and I never will.”

Heat settles in Zuri’s cheeks as she tries and fails to respond, all that comes out is a string of incomprehensible, half-spoken words that are shortly interrupted by laughter.

“God, what are you doing to me?”

“Let me know when you figure that out so I can keep doing it.”

Zuri huffs, shaking her head and smiling softly. “You know, I don't usually ask people out. Not with it meaning what it means right now. This is a first for me.”

Farah snuggles into her, her cheek pressing against her neck. Her voice is muffled, but she can still hear her smile.

“I'm glad you did.”

[crownleys]

In that third drawer of my desk, beside the letters and the book, there are a pair of portraits. One is of my brother and I, before he went to sea, and it is… a strange feeling, to see him again. To recognise yourself in the features of someone you lost, so long ago; someone who you have loved for so much longer. A lifelong grief, recurring---a memory of a memory of a memory, and yet still it slices the same, even after all this time. Like an intake of breath, the shiver of realisation; what you thought you had forgotten, and what you’d sworn you’d never lose. My brother's eyes---they are always so startlingly blue. Vanilla, Bergamot by @evilbunnyking

A commission for @evilbunnyking based on the fic "Vanilla, Bergamot" (which happens to be one of my favorites, so I was delighted to draw for it!) of Nat and Milton! Thank you so much for commissioning me, Bunny!

[gauntlings]

WIP Wednesday

i was tagged by the lovely @serenpedac and decided to share a fic i am working on about my wayhaven detective, kira <3 i felt like i needed to write more about her before i could get into the mess that is her and A Du Mortain, so here is a snippet of what is already going to be a far too long character study.

had to go the screenshot route because tumblr wants to take my no-structure-having-ass out back to be shot

____

(Warnings: mention of menstruation, blood, and underage substance use. Brief mention of underage sex. Mommy issues galore obvi.)

The Serpent Who Ate Her Tail

Part One: Patterns

[fauville]

sweet dreams

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

rating: mature

pairings: ava du mortain/female detective (vesper graves), nate sewell/female detective (charlie langford)

chapters: 5/?

A/N: I HAVE NO EXCUSE! but here is (finally, FINALLY) chapter 5 of sweet dreams. there's decriptions of death and suicide (in dreams) in this chapter as well as more creepy horror elements, so take care of yourself. 🩷

taglist: @agentnatesewell, @carriehobbs, @lalizah, @kibellah (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

summary:

Vesper sees it now out of the corner of her eye when she’s at the beach again, sitting on the sand and watching the surf and the white foam and her projections of sea gulls and fish. It's sitting on the bulwark, eyes incessantly on her.

read in ao3.

[missameliep]

💖🤔🥳 for the writers asks! :)

Hi! Thanks for the ask! 😊

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

My primary goal for 2025 is to go back and work on original stories, and finish more of the fanfics in my drafts.

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

When it comes to fanfiction, I want to explore The Wayhaven Chronicles universe and characters, especially detective O'Dell and Nate Sewell.

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals?

I don't know yet... maybe I'll commission some art. I'd love to have something for my detective and Nate. :)

Send me asks - Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

[nreads]

Hey does anybody know the fic where A (I think it was Adam) drinks poisoned blood (it was inspired by sera's patreon scene) and the other three don't and M has to take the detective away while N and F restrain A. Or did I just dream up the fic's existence? please I am going insane, I skimmed through a lot of the fic summaries on ao3 and couldn't find anything that fit (but I got tired near the end so I might have missed it)

[nat-seal-well]

Title: to settle a debt

Pairing: None

Character(s): Ava du Mortain

Rating: T

Words: 4,426

(Warning for graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and gore.)

Ava sheathes her sword and removes her helm, and her arming cap. The rain falls cold on her face as her braid tumbles free over her shoulder.

His eyes widen. Only for a fraction, and then he regains his composure, but just that glimpse is all Ava needs.

“Ser du Mortain,” he says, and she hears the slathered over-familiarity, as if they are old friends greeting one another at a celebration. It makes her hackles raise. “I suppose you no longer have to worry about people confusing your title and your father’s; I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Ava growls. He can’t hear it, with his weak, human senses, but she does, all the same.

“Come off of your horse,” she commands him, “and meet me face-to-face.”

[dottiechan]

TWC Secret Santa @wayhavensecretsanta ❄ - Happy holidays, @ejunkiet!

It was an absolute pleasure to create for you, I love Lizzie and Ava so much!!! 🩵 I couldn't decide whether to draw or write, so enjoy a bit of both. (BTW I seriously recommend @ejunkiet's fics of their detective OC Lizzie Quail, they're so good.) Happy holidays again! xx P.s. If you saw me accidentally post a draft of my gift to you a few days before... Shhh no you didn't. 🥲

Summary: After Unit Bravo's holiday dinner with Detective Lizzie Quail, Felix realises all the photos he took with his polaroid camera are botched.

Wordcount: 835

Warnings: smoking, Fuzzy Holidays Feels™

Too blurry. Too crowded. Mason is holding up his middle finger. Not focused on the subject. Ava appears to be sneering?

The polaroids scatter on the floor as they’re being dropped, Felix’s frustration seemingly travelling through his fingertips and into the botched pictures as they skitter across the parquet. He had such high hopes for this holiday dinner they’ve panned - he even volunteered, much to Nat’s suspicion, to help decorate the warehouse to prepare the background for his perfect winter photos. There doesn’t seem to be a single wall or piece of furniture without strings of fairy lights or garlands hanging off them - and yet somehow, he managed to mess up all the pictures he took.

“I should have just used my phone, not this stupid polaroid Nat gave me,” he grumbles, as he sinks to the floor dramatically from the sofa. He turns his head to the left, expecting a response from Mason, but aside from the shrug of a shoulder, and a puff of smoke, he’s as disinterested as always. Felix allows his head to loll right now, and peeks through the open doors into the dining room, but his other team members are too far to share in his misery. Lizzie is in the middle of a story, which has Nat’s full attention, and Ava’s full, well, everything? Attention, adoration, respect, senses, everything. They’re cute, the way they hold hands over the table, how Ava squeezes Lizzie's hand encouragingly when she trails off or gets embarrassed by her own rambling. Felix hoped he would capture a moment between them, something candid, something like right now, but he’s missed his windows of opportunity - like for instance when Ava finally allowed herself to be dragged under the mistletoe with Lizzie, but their picture was ruined by the detective spilling her drink all over herself.

“Felix?”

“Leave me alone,” he replies, but he also cracks one eye open to make sure Nat, who’s just entered the room, doesn’t lose interest in his pity party on the floor. But she’s already retreating, so he starts flailing his limbs as if he were making a snow angel in the sea of polaroids. “Please don’t leave me alone. Mason won’t talk to me and I’m embarrassed. I messed up all the pictures. I tried taking them like you showed me but I messed up.”

“They’re not so bad,” Nat says kindly as she sits with her friend, plucking the odd semi-decent pictures from the ground. “See? This is lovely.”

“Yeah, but Lizard has hot chocolate spilt on her sweater in that one.”

“Don’t call her that,” Mason grumbles, as he sweeps some polaroids off his lap - the by-product of Felix’s snow angel performance - and flicks his cigarette into the flames of the fireplace. Nat pretends not to see, but the pain flashing across her features has already made Felix feel a little better. They spend the better of the next hour going through the pictures and sorting them out, while Mason sits close-by, smoking, lost in his thoughts. All that breaks their peace is Frank Sinatra’s drawling voice coming from the record player, and the occasional laughter from the lovebirds still camped in the dining room. By the end of it, they’re left with a handful of decent-ish photographs, and Felix wastes no time sticking them into the photo album he got from Lizzie for Christmas.

There was a moment today, a moment worth capturing, one that was befitting of the old silver screen movies Nat made him and Lizzie watch, between Ava and their beloved detective. Naturally, Felix - a rotten romantic at heart - is pissed that he wasn’t able to capture it. It was a moment far better than the forced kiss under the mistletoe, a moment of intimacy, when the pair thought they were away from prying eyes. A hand under Lizzie’s jaw, Ava’s eyes fixed on the prize, wanting to kiss but being unable to take their eyes off of each other… Obviously the shutter of the camera ruined it, causing the pair step away from each other, and Lizzie to hide her blushing cheeks behind the curtain of her frizzy hair, but that’s beside the point. They were happy. Maybe happier than he’s ever seen them. Things are often so fucked up, with the odds always stacked against them, that Felix sometimes lives in the comfort of these moments. He lives in his family’s happiness, in his friends’ laughter, in Lizzie’s tight hugs, in Ava’s pats on the shoulder… If he could, he’d capture all these moments in a jar and keep them very close always. Photographs are the next best thing - which is why he’s bummed out the picture he took of this moment must be so unrecognisable that it was swallowed by his sea of botched photographs.

He’s lost in thought when Mason nudges his shoulder, a polaroid of Lizzie and Ava in his hand stretched towards him.

“Found this under the sofa. Not too bad, if you’re into this lovey-dovey shit.”

[sustainably-du-mortain]

The art of losing

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Characters: f!detective (Sadie Langford) & Unit Bravo Word count: ~2.5k A/N: Here's my secret santa for @nsewell. I had so much fun getting to know Sadie for this @wayhavensecretsanta! She's a sweetheart and I hope I did her justice. I hope you'll enjoy this!!

A yell echoes down the corridors as soon as Morgan steps inside the warehouse, making her instinct take over as she runs to the source of the ruckus. 

The screams lead her to the living room, and although she’s not quite sure what to expect, she understood, as the screams turned into a weird mix of laughter and complaints, that she didn’t have to worry. So, when she reaches the door, it’s not worry guiding her anymore but curiosity. What she definitely didn’t expect to find though, is the rest of the team, sitting on the carpet, Ava, towering over the other three as she kneels over the coffee table; pointing an accusing finger at Farah.

“I know you’re cheating!” She growls, almost making Morgan shiver. This is a tone the commanding agent rarely uses on them - despite them constantly getting on her nerves - and Ava must have sensed the very faint hint of fear in her teammates as her tone is way softer, almost pleading, when she adds: “You keep taking the pot!”

“How the heck do you want me to cheat!? I didn’t even know the rules of that game half an hour ago! You’re just mad because you’re losing-” The young vampire retorts, before she adds with a little glint of mischief in her eyes “-loser!”

Morgan has to hold back a laugh when Ava’s ears flush red with anger and Nat quickly scouts closer to her to land a soothing hand on her friend’s shoulder. She remembers a similar night, decades ago, when they had to ban game nights after Ava forced them to play the same game for hours because she kept losing or could tell that they were letting her win on purpose. Had she known they were playing a game, Morgan would have actually avoided the living room at all cost.

She catches Sadie’s gaze and cannot hold it anymore. The detective is seated between Ava and Farah and the look of pure panic in her eyes gives away that she’s regretting not going to the local Christmas market like they had planned. That she would have rather braved the heavy-falling snow than whatever is going on right now. 

‘Get me out of here’ she mouths, but Morgan doesn’t make any move to help her. In fact, she steps even further into the room, thinking this debacle might at least entertain her for a little while. It’s not like she’s got anything else to do anyways.

The detective, realizing that she won’t be able to get out so easily, mouths again ‘I hate you’, to which Morgan answers by blowing a kiss in her direction. 

Admitting her defeat, Sadie holds up her cat in Ava’s direction. “Could you hold while I play my turn, please?” She asks, barely hiding her attempt at defusing the situation.

And for a second, Morgan thinks this might work as Ava eyes the hairless cat, barely annoyed at being handled in such a way. She watches as the commanding agent sits back down, crossing her leg, almost preparing to take the cat. That is until she goes “You’ve been holding him just fine the whole time.”

Sadie makes a face at her. “Yeah, well unlike you, my legs are getting numb.” She states, not waiting for the vampire’s answer before putting the sheriff in her lap. The cat is already falling back asleep.

There's a moment of latency as everyone waits for Ava's reaction and, as she doesn't show any sign of exasperation, Sadie reaches for something on the table and the silence falls heavier when she makes it spin.

Morgan steps a little closer and sits on the sofa behind Sadie. On the table, she makes out the blurred lines of a wooden spinning top. Underneath it, the detective is crossing her fingers as tightly as she can bear.

In front of Sadie, two glass pebbles are sitting on the table. Morgan looks around the table and noticing that the others have similar piles before them - some much bigger, like Farah’s, and others only containing one more than Sadie’s stash, like Ava’s - she understands, despite having no idea what game they’re playing, that her friend is losing. 

The four faces of the spinning top become more and more visible as it slows down and starts wobbling. Although she can now make out the symbols on the four faces of the toy, she still doesn’t know what they’re supposed to represent. She hears Sadie take a deep breath before she actually stops breathing. She can’t help but think the human is being a little-over dramatic, but then…

***

The dreidel finally tips over and…

“Nun!” she yells, much louder than she intended. 

She hears Morgan hissing sharply behind her and realizes she’s probably broken her eardrums. So she turns around and mouths a silent apology, to which the vampire answers with only a grunt, before she goes back to the game.

Sadie stares at the dreidel laying on its side and lets out a relieved sigh. She’s not losing that round either, she thinks before handing her dreidel to Ava. The vampire sitting by her side, mumbles something as she does, but Sadie doesn’t get it. 

The two are competing for the second to last place and, so far, Ava is winning. Sadie crosses her fingers once again and prays. She prays that Ava lands on ‘Shin’, which would force her to add another token into the pot, meaning they’d be even. But as she realizes what she’s praying for, Sadie is torn between shame and an irrepressible need to laugh. She’s usually not that competitive, but seeing how invested she is in that game, she guesses being around Ava is starting to rub on her.

Ava spins the dreidel and it flies across the room, making everyone duck.

“Ava!” They all scream in unison.

“What?” She asks, acting like nothing happened. She acts like it’s completely normal to turn a dreidel into a projectile, despite the fact that they all know how much control she has over her own strength. 

Her ears turn pink as they all stare at her and she sheepishly avoids their gaze. A move Sadie has grown accustomed to these past months: she is trying to hide the shame of letting her emotions get the best of her. 

A loud gasp echoes around the room and they all turn to Nat who went to fetch the toy. “Ava! It made a dent in the wall!” she cries in horror, staring at the toy encrusted in the wall. 

Sadie’s mouth falls wide open and she struggles to hold back a laugh, but as she sees Farah and Morgan trying as hard as she is not to laugh and that the rest of Ava’s face is turning a bright shade of red, she cannot help but crack up in laughter. 

Ava and Nat instantly start arguing like an old married couple about repairing that hole.

But as the argument grows in length, Sadie’s attention is caught by a flash of light in the middle of the room. She could have sworn the Christmas tree wasn’t turned on when she  got here earlier this afternoon.

Farah, noticing her confusion, leans in her direction. “I set a timer,” she whispers, “although magic would have been cool!” She adds like she had just guessed what the human was thinking.

“You can do that with Christmas lights?” Sadie asks, genuinely surprised by that fact.

“Nat bought really fancy ones” Farah explains and Sadie can’t help but chuckle at this. 

Knowing Nat she should have known everything they had gotten to decorate the place was really expensive and she dares not imagine how much she actually paid. But judging by the tree sitting in the middle of the room, she probably spent more than Sadie’s salary this month.

This tree is so gigantic it’s almost comical. Upon seeing it, her first thought had been about Ava having a heart-attack when she first saw it and having another one when Nat asked her to bring it inside. Because although Nat could probably make Ava do anything as long as she used her best pleading eyes, Sadie is still wondering what Nat could have possibly bribed Ava with so that she accepted to do it. Not that she doubts Ava could do it, in fact, Sadie knows Ava can haul a tree without any difficulty. It’s just that her brain still cannot comprehend how she managed to fit that ginormous tree - that almost touches the high ceiling and takes up half of the room - through the tiny doors of the warehouse.

Yet it’s not the size that made Sadie burst into laughter when she first saw it, but rather the wide array of colors ornating it and she instantly guesses Farah had been the one doing the decoration.

She remembers the young vampire, less than a couple weeks ago, begging Ava to get a Christmas tree so that, as she put it, she could get the best of the human experience. But the commanding agent had refused, so Sadie supposes Farah must have changed strategy after that refusal and pulled on Nat’s heartstrings so that she would indulge her, like she always does, especially when Farah pulls the ‘I never got to be human’ card.

And today, Sadie was met with this… She’s not quite sure how to describe it. Calling it an atrocity would be quite harsh, but this is definitely a little bit of an eyesore. It’s like Farah had randomly grabbed garlands and ornaments and let her excitement take over when she put them on the tree. It kind of reminds her of that time her kindergarten teacher would let them decorate the Christmas tree in her room every year.

Sadie still has to hold back a laugh when she thinks of Nat’s reaction when she first saw it. She actually snorted when they decided to settle in the living room and saw Nat scrunching her nose at the sight of it, desperately trying to hide the fact that she disliked the arrangement. Before that, she had even caught her trying to arrange some of the garlands a little more neatly and actively replacing some. Nat had begged her not to tell Farah.

There’s a loud grunt by her side and Sadie realizes Ava and Nat have stopped arguing. And it seems like Ava has already played her turn. The dreidel they both share is laying on the table and she can’t believe her eyes. Ava has to put another token into the pot.

“This isn’t fair,” the vampire grunts.

“You’ve just got bad luck,” Nat tries to soothe her.

“My spinning wasn’t optimal. The cat sleeping in my lap is reducing my range of movement.”

“Are you really blaming the sheriff because you’re losing?” Sadie asks, offended.

“All I’m saying is that I couldn’t spin the dreidel properly.”

“Yet you’re still petting the cat,” Farah points out.

Ava’s mouth opens as she looks for something to say, but nothing comes out and instead she readjusts her position to accommodate the sheriff as he shifts in her lap. Sadie shakes her head, forces herself to look away not to let her feelings transpire. Yet she can’t hide the soft smile tugging at her lips after noticing the fondness with which Ava looks at her cat. Neither can she hide her heart beating a little too erratically.

She clears her throat. “It’s your turn, Nat,” she announces, barely hiding her attempt at changing the subject.

Yet as the small wooden top starts its rotation, her attention is brought back to the vampire sitting beside her.

Ava is readjusting the hairless cat’s sweater. She tugs on it, making sure it covers most of the sheriff’s body, despite the fact that it's not cold inside the warehouse. She rolls the little collar properly so that it doesn’t bother him, and when she’s done she scratches him behind the ears, a spot he particularly likes.

She likes catching these moments where the commanding agent briefly lets her guard down. These moments where her caring nature shows. Not only with her cat, but also with the members of the team. When she helps Nat to cook, despite the fact that she herself doesn’t eat. When she listens to Farah’s new interest that week and actively asks questions so that Farah knows she’s listening even though she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying. How she closes the blinds without a word when the sun shines a little too brightly through the windows, bothering Morgan. How she often comes to check on her when she’s sleeping over at the warehouse, making sure Sadie has everything she needs.

Despite how much she hates admitting it, she cares deeply for every single one of them.

Ava looks at her, a puzzled look on her face, and Sadie quickly reverts her eyes. She tries to find something else to look at other than the vampire sitting beside her, and her eyes land on the menorah sitting on the mantel.

This is the first menorah she has lit in years and, to be honest, she didn’t expect to find one here today - just like she wasn’t expecting the Christmas tree. But what really moved her was its beauty.

Sadie is usually not a material person, but this menorah is amazingly well-crafted. 

It looks a little bit like a tree made out of brass. The trunk divides into two branches, on each of them sits four flowers to hold the eight candles. The ninth flower sits in the middle, slightly higher than the others, and holds the shamash. 

Vines spread out  on each side of the trunk and rise to coil around the two branches holding the candles. On those vines are carved small, intricate flowers.

Upon seeing it, she teared up a little at the thought that Nat must have spent so much time carefully picking such a gorgeous menorah for her.

And so, after the sunset, before they started playing, she kindled the first candle, answering Farah’s questions about its meaning.

Someone taps on her shoulder, bringing her attention back to the game. They’re all looking at her expectantly and she understands that they’re waiting for her to add another token to the pot so that they can start another round of spinning, meaning she’s left with only one glass pebble.

Ava hands her the dreidel. She spins it and once again she’s crossing her fingers.

Sadie looks around herself as the spinning top starts wobbling. Ava is discreetly trying to pet her cat who purrs in the vampire laps, making the others chuckle. Farah whispers something to Morgan and they share a mischievous look and the detective wonders what they’re up to, although she’ll come to know sooner or later. Nat is sipping on her tea, keeping a fond eye on each of them and she smiles when their gaze meets.

The dreidel lands on ‘Shin’, but Sadie doesn’t care. She does feel a tinge of disappointment, especially since she has just taught them to play. But after all, this game is all about luck and she realizes she’s been lucky enough to find a new family this year, so maybe that’s all the luck she needed. 

[itsmistyeyedbi]

bare your teeth, blunt as they may be

Pairing: F!Detective/F!Li-Sar and F!Detective/Adam du Mortain Word Count: 5,5k Warnings: Angst, Lots of sexual tension and descriptions of violence (but those are pretty tame, nothing graphic) Tags: @agentnatesewell @ava-du-mortain (you haven't asked but I know you've been waiting for this lol). Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics! Authors Note: I am done at last! I rewrote and edited this thing so much, I just had to stop at some point. I haven't settled on how Li-Sar looks so there isn't a whole lot of detailed description on her appearance (or her outfit; I'm so sorry but I cannot write her in what she's wearing in the books and I couldn't decide on another one for her), but Zuri is still pretty descriptive of her if I do say so myself. Also on a03!

-

The forest floor tastes like ash. Dry against her cheek, dry as her throat. She lands face first on the cracks of a former cage.

Zuri coughs, palms against the barren forest floor, arms shaking as she pushes herself up. Only her upper body makes it off the ground. She can't muffle the groan that escapes her lips. There's too much aching. In her limbs from blocking attacks, in her torso for taking one too many. Her knuckles, the side of her face, bruised. Her bottom lip, stinging, probably busted. Blood trickles down her chin and leaves a tangy taste in her mouth. She blinks and blinks and blinks the blurry vision away.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. The air is tinged with her magic - the same magic buzzing through her and flaring out of her in sparks. She's getting closer. 

“Have I truly hurt you so, mortal?” She coos, her voice silky smooth from behind her. Zuri scrambles forward, trying to move her legs despite them feeling as heavy as cinder blocks. Li-Sar's tone shifts to something sharp with the promise of violence as she continues, “or is there another pathetic human being I need to rid this world of for you?”

Zuri slowly turns her head, eyes trailing up the length of her body before meeting her gaze and whimpering. Let her think it's over. Let her think she's done fighting-

Then kick. 

Her foot strikes her in the calf. Li-Sar grunts, leg buckling slightly only because of how often she's been kicked there. She locks her foot around her ankle and the same leg crumbles to the ground. Dirt flies into the air when Li-Sar's forearms meet the floor. She manages to hold her weight on one arm long enough to reach for her gun. Aims it at her and-

“Come now.”

A hand hits her wrist, bats it away. It flies out of reach, accompanied by a dry laugh that's soon muffled by the ringing of a stray gunshot. It's hard enough to put Zuri on her back.

Li-Sar's head is framed with trees from her position above her. She's straddling her, thighs on either side of her, an arm pressing tight against her neck while the other wrestles away the hand reaching and clawing for her face. It's eventually pinned to the ground.

The ringing in her ears and hard landing disorients her enough for any move she makes to be sloppy, but not enough to drown out her next words. “You know that won't work on me.”

Her clothes cling to her body, crackling with static and suddenly she's off the ground. In the air. The world spins. Her back slams against something rough and flaky - a tree - and she wheezes in Li-Sar's grasp.

She shakes her head and tuts as she looks over her. She loosens her grip on her blazer, moving one hand up to Zuri's face, cupping her jaw and moving her head this way and that in inspection. Zuri feels more than hears herself protesting, her lip stinging as she says…something and squeezes her eyes shut so she doesn't have to watch her surroundings spin and droop in front of her. 

Another coo. A thumb rubbing against her chin, blood smearing against her skin, het voice clear as the ringing fades away. “This isn't quite the mess I wanted to make of you, meor'dal.”

Zuri tries to focus on her breathing, ragged as it is, and opens her eyes to watch the trees that aren't obscured by the curls of her hair slowly come to a standstill. Anything but the sound of her voice or the feeling of her fingers on her skin. The way both imbed themselves into her mind.

“Listen, Li-Sar,” she rasps.

“Oh, my name sounds so sweet on your lips. Talk to me, I will listen to every word.” She brings her thumb to her mouth and sucks gently, her eyes flashing a bright white as she licks the blood off.

Her throat is still dry as she swallows and heat gathers in her cheeks. Why must she be so- God, this is ridiculous.

“You-” Zuri stammers, shying away from her gaze with an ahem before continuing. “It was stupid of them to come here and think they could take you on. Trappers are notorious for getting in over their heads.”

“So that's what those humans are? Trappers?” She scoffs. “A name fitting for those who foolishly throw themselves into a trap.”

“Right,” she meets her eyes again, watching carefully for a change in demeanour. She may not know what they're called, but she knew enough to draw them to her. Easy targets. 

“We just came to get them away from here, take them in and figure out a motive.”

She wants to believe that they didn't intend to actually try and capture her - a being so powerful that her prison was interdimensional purgatory. She really does. But maybe years of eating dirt while fighting agents made them lose brain cells. That, or whoever orders them around found out about Sin and got cocky, thinking that they too could have a powerful, centuries old supernatural do their bidding. Whatever it is, it's ridiculous. So much so that the Agency sent her and the rest of Unit Bravo here to protect them from her - neutralise them and prevent as many deaths as possible.

Mostly so they don't have to play clean up. At least, that's what Morgan thinks.

They arrived while the Trappers were still alive and breathing and following hare-brained orders. They were standing around Li-Sar in a loose circle; she was watching them with a smirk and playing with the electricity dancing around her fingers. Probably pleased that her practice dummies delivered themselves to her. They started advancing slowly - at least they had enough brain cells to be afraid - and all she did in response was chuckle. The calm before the storm. She could and would wipe them out in seconds.

Zuri entered the scene with her hands raised. The powers had settled enough for them to not instantly open fire on people, especially when she remains calm. So with deep, calculated breaths, she used them to appear placating and harmless as she talked Li-Sar out of engaging them.

They aren't worth it, they wouldn't even be able to put up a good fight.

What do you suggest I do then, mortal?

Let me and my friends handle them. We'll get them out of your hair. It'll be more entertaining if nothing else. You could also catch a glimpse of that potential you're so interested in.

You and the vampiir in the shadows are…friends? You are full of surprises, aren't you? Fine then. Show me what you can do.

With a bright flash, she disappeared.

With her gone and the sun having sunk behind the trees, Unit Bravo was as strong as they could be while having Zuri in the vicinity. She may not be the sun or a centuries old deity, but the solar powers inside her were enough to prevent them from functioning at full strength. Not that it would be needed against a bunch of flighty, spooked Trappers.

It was a quick fight. Mission accomplished. It ultimately went well. Until it didn't.

One of them got up and tried to swing at her from behind. She saw the man in her periphery, lowered herself into a defensive stance. There wasn't enough time to dodge, but she could take him. 

But not faster than Adam rushed forward to tackle him.

But he wasn't faster than Li-Sar, who appeared out of thin air and struck him down with a bolt of lightning.

He died on impact. Burnt to a crisp.

She missed Adam by a hair.

The air was heavy with tension and fear. Magic and blood. And she choked on it, too thick in her lungs as she gasped.

He could've been killed too.

It didn't take much to convince the vampires to stay back and for Li-Sar to join her somewhere more private - maybe even nostalgic for her - but she knows they aren't far. After what happened during their first encounter, they weren't going to leave the two of them alone for long. 

She needs to be quick.

“But we can't exactly question someone who isn't alive,” she can still feel his blood on her side, can hear how it splattered against bark and damp grass. The way his body fell to the ground, joining the others that were groaning on the ground with a stillness that only comes after a heart stops beating.

Her own hammered in her chest.

“...why?” She asks, quietly, hoping for a good reason, knowing she won't get one.

“Why?” Li-Sar stares her down with a raised brow as if the question couldn't be more ridiculous. Like questioning her at all was even more so.

Louder this time, with anger rumbling beneath a layer of fear and frustration. “After thousands of years, you're free. And the first thing you want to do is kill some random group of humans!? Why?”

“They led themselves to their deathbeds the moment they thought they could have any control over me,” she snarls, the stare souring into a glare. “They are worth less than the dirt beneath our feet. Pests, at best. And I will not let a pest touch what is mine.”

Her jaw clenches, blood boiling, sparks flying off her fingers. God, she can't take anymore of this. Of people staking claim of her, believing she'll bend to their will or will be their tool to use for whatever they want to gain. Something ugly and destructive stirs within her, all sharp teeth and claws and molten heat, rearing its head after laying low for months and being smothered by fear and sadness.

She returns the glare and digs her nails into her wrists, drawing out a hiss. Electricity flares between them, vibrant streaks of blue where her palms meet her skin. 

“And what,” she speaks through clenched teeth, her voice low and hackles raised, “makes you think any part of me is yours.”

Li-Sar's hands glitch out of her grip before she slams her against the tree again. Hard enough for the breath to be knocked out of her lungs. Her body is heavy against hers, forcing her gasps for air to be shallow, her tender ribs screaming as the bark pricks at her back. A hand grabs her wrists and pins them above her head.

“Is the power surging through you not my own? Is our bond not what allows you to wield it?

She doesn't answer. She can't. Nothing she says can change what happened to her. That another supernatural tried to use her, that their will was imposed on her again. That her blood has been the catalyst for all of it. And everyone wants to drain her dry.

Fuck Ostin. And fuck every power-hungry asshole out there.

Zuri stifles a groan and twists and turns. Her legs are useless - heavy, far from the ground and too close to her body for them to put any distance between them. But she has to do something, anything.

Li-Sar tilts her head, watches her fondly and chuckles - now she can both hear it and feel it. Hates that the press of her body - how it reverberates through her, shakes against her - doesn't bother her the way it should. She leans in close, strands of her tickling her cheek as she murmurs, “your anger is endearing, although I don't understand it.”

Her lips brush against her ear and Zuri stills. 

“You have seen my power firsthand, as well as how those around you yearn for it. But still, you fight it. As though it isn't a blessing to be my other-heart.”

“I,” she can't bring herself to turn her head away. “I don't know what that's supposed to mean.”

“Hmm. You will, in time,” she hums before pulling away slightly. Just enough for both of them to have a clear view of the other's face. Enough for Zuri to see nothing but her. Knuckles trail along the curve of her cheek and jaw, a pleasant tingle against her skin.

“The people of this world are meaningless to me. Specks of stardust in a vast galaxy. They have nothing to offer me. But you? You have,” she inhales, deeply, breathing her in while her eyes trace her features as though she could get drunk on her and her alone. “You have more than you could ever imagine.”

A shudder runs down Zuri’s spine. A part of her clings onto the anger she has, tries to will it to fuel her actions, but the heat building up inside her isn't from that alone. Some of it comes from having this woman in front of her. Bold, flirty, certain about herself, what she wants, who she wants. Their hearts are pounding against each other through their clothes, through their chests why does she have to be so-

Li-Sar's eyes travel lower, down her neck and collarbone to where their bodies meet. Zuri follows her gaze without thought. A charge of electricity dances back and forth between them, in and around one person and to the next. She isn't sure what it's transferring, but she can hear every breath they take, feel the clouds gathering above them, the ache in her body fading and the endearment Li-Sar felt towards her. The anger she felt when the Trapper tried to attack her. Amusement, disdain, excitement, confusion.

Lust.

“This is but a glimpse of your potential. Of what I can do with and for you. What I can do to you, if you wish it,” she purrs and puts a finger under her chin. The zap that follows feels like a dangerous mix of pleasure and pain, making Zuri shiver and look back up at her. An instruction and a warning. 

“Don't you want to discover all you are?”

“I am more than my blood.”

There's conviction in her voice, stained with doubt and desperation. As if it isn't just the world she's trying to convince.

But she is more than that. She has to be. She is more than parts of Rook, more than parts of Rebecca, more than what Murphy did to her.

“But of course.”

“I'm mo-” she blinks, “...I'm sorry, what?”

Another chuckle. She holds her chin between her thumb and index finger. And there's that endearment again.

“Surely you don't think that I chose you over that witch because of your blood?” Li-Sar glances off to the side, her mouth curling in disdain as she sighs. “It is powerful, no doubt. An untapped part of your essence that freed me. But there have been many blood sacrifices - that alone is not enough for someone to share in my power.”

Blood sacrifices? Plural? A strange, specific set of words. Ostin did seem almost reverent when he first saw Li-Sar, seemed to loathe the idea of her being imprisoned. They're practically a deity, so having people worship her isn't far fetched. A cult following wouldn't be either. But Zuri only heard about here recently. Outside of how she handled her arrival and Ostin’s temper tantrum, she hasn't exactly done anything that would be of interest to…a God?

She purses her lips. Li-Sar watches her with half-lidded eyes, amused, as though she can hear the dogs turning in her brain. Her focus shifts down to her lips. Zuri pretends not to see it.

“I wonder what I've done that makes me- makes this different, then.”

“It's not just what you've done but what you would do, if you had the chance. I can see it in your eyes, something ferocious but restrained like-” she rolls her lips together and shakes her head, muttering something in Echolian. 

“This English language is inept at describing this. But in all my years, I rarely happened upon someone who has this. But here you are. You, and a woman who calls herself the leader of Rogue Supernaturals.”

Oh shit. Her stomach drops.

“She's spoken to you already? How did she contact you? Did she-”

“Oh hush, there is nothing of importance there,” amusement seeps into her voice as she scoffs. “Nothing to panic over nor be jealous of. She lacks your restraint. It makes her nowhere near as tempting. It is adorable watching your control slip, mortal.”

Dammit. What is with her? Since when can someone she's just met make her fumble like this. Where the hell is her subtlety?

She can't even blame the fight. Li-Sar seems to have healed her wounds again.

God, get it together.

“Your floundering is endearing as well. Almost every part of you is. No need to be embarrassed.”

“I'm not-”

“She wanted to be what you are,” she interrupts and Zuri strains to hold her tongue. “My she’loe-chae'lis, my other-heart, my chosen. And perhaps she would be, if I had not met you first.”

Zuri keeps her eyes trained on her, white-blue against dark brown. Something creeps into her, something like disappointment and the anxiety of something being in jeopardy. Nothing important. Focus. Their blood had mixed when she gave her these powers. Can they be taken away? Could whatever it is that tether them to each other be severed? Would she give it to the Rogue's leader if it could be?

Li-Sar's eyes don't give away a thing. She just watches with what seems like endless patience, like watching the cogs turn is entertaining. Zuri doesn't think she can get any answers that she isn't already willing to share - nothing that really means something to her. Especially now, when she's holding onto anger so tightly that it chaffs and she's still caught in the tension simmering between them. 

“You think too much,” she says, cooing again before leaning in close enough for their foreheads to touch. “Don't you see, meor'dal? The humans want to control me and the supernaturals of this world want to be my chosen. But all I want is you.”

Her breath hitches. The anger slips. All that's left is the heat thruming through her and pooling in her abdomen, the nerves fluttering in her stomach, her breath fanning her face, how thin their clothes feel, how they shouldn't be there-

God, it's all she's wanted for as long as she can remember. For someone to want her. To choose her over everything. Over work, over rationale or fear, over something or someone more convenient. To see something in her that's worth staying for, even if they can barely reach it. She almost can, just a few inches shy of reaching in and grazing that all too sensitive spot nestled inside her.

“All I want,” her voice is close to a whisper as she cups her face, “is you, and the world we can shape together.”

But at what cost?

Just…keep it together.

A shaky exhale is all that comes out for a while. A pause. Then eyebrows furrow as she frowns like she might just sob. Zuri shakes her head a bit before resting the back of her head against the tree - she didn't even realise it had moved - and peers up at the sky. The moon peeks out from behind dark red clouds.

She can't just take her at her word. Who knows if this is what she wants and not what she knows makes her weak, feeds some twisted part of her that wants someone to be willing to burn down the world for her.

“I,” the words die in her throat when she meets her gaze again, sees the depthless, unbridled need inside of them… she almost doesn't want to say it but…

She slams her eyes shut and shakes her head again. “No, no, I- I don't want the world.”

“Then what?” Frustration makes the charge between them tremble. Fingers grasp the side of her face in an attempt to make her look at her, as if she'll claw the answer out of her if that's what it takes to have her at her side. Zuri’s eyes open and Li-Sar's face twists. Something close to desperation meets that frustration.

“What do you desire? What is it you crave that you believe I cannot give to you?” A muscle in her jaw twitches as her lips set into a hard line, nose wrinkled and eyes glowing a bright white. “I am already yours as much as you are mine, so tell me!”

A rumble of thunder accompanies the growl in her voice and goosebumps rise on Zuri’s skin, the fear raking down her spine freezing her in her spot. 

That's the problem, isn't it? Li-Sar would do whatever it would take to fulfill her, to gain her favour, to crack her open and free the ugliest parts of her from their restraints. She'd protect her from any and every threat, destroy them in a blink of an eye. If she joins her. If she's willing to bury those she loves alongside the power-hungry and greedy. They're nothing To her, after all. Insignificant little things with nothing to offer her. If Li-Sar is hers as Zuri is hers, what good would anyone else be? What would they be but a threat to their bond?

She doesn't want that. She never will. She'd rather go unwanted for the rest of her life than lose her friends, her family, the community she has here in Wayhaven despite everything. There's no answer she can give that is worth never laughing with Tina and Verda again. Or experiencing the world through fresh eyes with Farah. Watching the sunrise in comfortable silence with Morgan. Exchanging books and anecdotes with Nate.

Being the reason Adam lowers his guard and smiles enough for the dimples to show on his face.

Every moment with them plays in her mind like a movie on fast forward. Slows to the day she left a scar on Adam's arm, one that won't heal. It's permanent. Her throat burns. She can't lose them. She won't. Not while she's alive and breathing. She won't be the reason he's hurt again and no one will carry any scars because of her.

Zuri stares back at Li-Sar. Another rumble, another flash of electricity, a crack of lightning, tension tension tension-

She is unwavering, firm. She won't get the answer she wants. At that, the amalgamation of frustration and anger softens into confusion, then fascination, then…she looks impressed? Begrudgingly, but impressed nonetheless.

“Fine,” she scoffs and glances away, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Keep your secrets while you can. You will speak them freely once you join me.”

She almost slumps in relief, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. This is, what? Their second meeting? Their first full on conversation? And she can toy with her as though she's known her her whole life, push every button, say all the right things. It will never not be weird to be on the receiving end of that. 

The air sighs, feeling lighter by the second. But only one type of tension evaporated. The other still lingers, balances on a tightrope. 

Li-Sar's gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips, her hand gently cradling her face rather than grasping it tightly. She releases her wrists and Zuri's arms fall to her bare shoulders. Blue currents run down her arms, whirl around Li-Sar's shoulders down to her fingertips. For the first time, she shudders, eyes widening as she continues to watch her with a new intensity.

“...would you grant me this moment?” 

Her hushed words hang in the air between them. Zuri blinks up at her. This can't be what she thinks it is. What she hates that she hopes it is.

“...what?”

A thumb caresses her bottom lip, the stinging fading as she does. There's fluttering in her stomach again, warmth in her cheeks, anticipation in her veins. 

“I'd like to taste you, if you'd permit me,” a small gasp, and Li-Sar mirrors her, parts her own lips, seconds that feel like minutes pass before she continues. “I will savour however much of you I can have.”

The heat returns with a vengeance at the yearning in her eyes. Oh God. Zuri’s heart might just beat out of her chest. The last kiss she had was both bittersweet and magical and everyday after that has been a test in restraint. 

Being alone with Adam was like drowning; his presence is all-encompassing, beautiful, painful, everything it wasn't supposed to be. It was supposed to be easy and fun, her wriggling her way past his walls and getting to see more of him than what the world sees. But he burrowed his way under her skin too and now? Now she's lost her balance, fallen from the edge and things are more complicated than they've ever been. Now she itches to be in his arms again, to run her fingers through the short strands of his hair, to feel his hand on her face and his lips on hers. She finds herself on the verge of begging and pleading for him to share that moment with her. 

Just one more kiss, even if he won't have her. Even if they keep dancing around what they have. Even if it's better that way. 

And here she is, with an all powerful being who is bold and beautiful and dangerous and wants her. Who isn't afraid of what it could mean or how it could end. She wants her. She could kill her for daring to deny her. But instead she asks for a kiss. Just one kiss, even if she can't have her the way she wants to. 

Zuri wraps an arm around her neck and draws her in before she can think. She doesn't want to think - to resist - anymore. She wants it messy and desperate and electric.

Li-Sar chuckles and puts her free hand against the tree, crowding her but preventing her from pulling her any closer. “You will have to use your words. That shouldn't be difficult with that silver tongue of yours.”

She can't say it out loud, it's messed up and embarrassing and-

“May I taste you?”

Her eyebrows furrow, she's holding her breath, her head moves up and down before she can think-

Yesyesyesyes-

“...yeah,” it's shaky when it comes out, mixed with a heavy breath. “Yes…please.”

Li-Sar's eyes flash again, the hand on her cheek sits more securely while the other slowly moves to her waist. She stares at her with wonder and… concern. Their foreheads touch and one of Zuri’s hands leaves her shoulder to brush her hair out of her face. She needs to look at her.

“You have been hurt, haven't you, meor'dal?” She leans in closer, dips her head until the tips of their noses brush, her voice soft but firm. “I promise you this. That ache in your heart? That is something you will never have to bear again. Not when you are with me.”

Zuri is warm all over from the heat inside and against her body. Her hair is soft between her fingers, her scent is dizzying, her breath fans against her face and she is so beautiful. She's beautiful, she's dangerous, she wants her, she isn't him. The light, barely there touch of her lips makes sparks course through her, through her fingers, slice through her thoughts until all that's left are fragments yes, please, I want, need this, kiss me, kiss me, please-

“Zuri?”

Eyes snap open. A hand covers her mouth. Her own shift to her shoulders, balled into fists, pushing her away. The bark pokes at her back and the back of her head. 

She doesn't need to glance to the side to see who's there. She'd know that voice anywhere. She looks anyway.

Adam. 

Shit.

The rest of Unit Bravo come up from behind him, standing at a distance. Stiff like they all want to run towards her and get Li-Sar as far away from her as possible.

Li-Sar is doing the same.

Her hair stands on end as she stares at them, the static so overwhelming it crackles and pops and stings. Thunder starts rumbling, low and threatening, the backdrop to this standoff. She doesn't look at Zuri when she speaks, her voice echoing through the forest as she speaks. “Which one of them is it?”

Fear floods in and flushes every feeling away. Shit. She could kill them right where they stand. She pushes the hand on her mouth away, gets a tight hold of her wrist. 

“Li-Sar, no. Stop.”

“Tell me.”

Farah watches intently. Morgan growls. Nate puts a hand on Adam’s shoulder. He still shifts closer. 

“No,” the panic is clear in the rasp of her voice. “Leave them alone.”

“Who-”

“Stop!”

Her voice booms. There's a crack of thunder, a flash of lightning. The vampires cover their ears. Zuri’s hand zips forward, clutches Li-Sar's jaw, forcing her head to turn towards her. Away from them. Something surges through her, mixing with the fear, amplifying the anger and the ugly little thing inside her that gnaws at its cage. She won't watch them be hurt again. Not by either of them. Her fingers dig into her face again, another hiss as her nails pierce her skin. Her mind races with thoughts and images of every way she could stop Li-Sar, each one gorier than the next.

It would be the last thing she lets either of them do. 

“You stay away from him,” her voice is as cutting and as loud as the thunder, “from all of them. If you even look in their direction again, you'll lose any chance you had of me being your she’loe-chae'lis.”

She says the word like her Echolian has been fully honed.

Li-Sar stares at her, her face still scrunched in anger, her eyes bright but inspecting. Curious. Piercing like she might call her bluff that there's any chance at all. They dim, and familiar fascination slips through. That, and an impressed smirk. 

“As you wish,” she steps away a few seconds after Zuri lets go of her jaw, keeping her eyes on her as she backs away. 

She stops at the trees opposite her, places a hand on one, making sure to turn her body away from Unit Bravo when she does.

“Until we next meet, Zuri,” her name echoes before she vanishes in a flash of lightning with a loud crack.

The tree has been split in too, leaves burnt to ash, branches black and smoking. 

A warning of what she can do. What she could've done.

Zuri’s feet touch the ground for the first time in ages and her legs buckle.

“Zuri, are you harmed? Are you-”

“Give her a moment, Adam.”

Nate puts a hand on his shoulder again. The four of them get as close as they can while staying out of reach. She looks back at them, leaning back against the tree, panting with a wry smile. They're okay. They're all okay. “A moment would be appreciated.”

“Woah. Your eyes,” Farah stares at her in awe. “Your hair, your voice! Holy shit. Those powers are getting stronger by the day.”

Inhale. Exhale. 

“You say that like it's a good thing.”

“It's not a good thing or a bad thing,” she shrugs, “just…a thing. I think.”

Inhale. Exhale.

“When were you gonna tell us that stuff would make your voice that loud?” Morgan joins in, crossing her arms and inspecting her with a concerned frown.

Zuri let's out a short, breathless laugh. “Oh trust me, I would've told you the moment I found out.”

“We do trust you.”

She shakes her head and gives them a weak smile. They're only talking because they know the silence would be worse for her. That noise, no matter how soft, helps her breathe easier. 

Inhale. Exhale. 

She vaguely feels her earrings lower to their usual position, dangling from her ears. Her clothes loosening around her, back to hugging her figure instead of squeezing it. The magic inside her feels less like a waterfall and more like a small stream, contained and not sparking outward.

It's Nate who speaks next. “How are you feeling, Zee?” 

Soothed. Embarrassed. Exhausted. Relieved. Too many things to describe in depth. But she knows one thing.

“You're all okay. You're alright, so I'm good. Tired, but good.”

She straightens up and takes a step towards them. Or really, stumbles towards them. Adam catches her by the elbow and puts a hand on her back. She looks up at him with furrowed brows before looking down at his arm, shying away from his touch. The scar is still there. She hurt him one way and almost hurt him in another.

She almost kissed her.

“Wait, Adam I…”

“It is as you said. We are all alright,” she looks up again and finds him smiling softly. “I am all right.”

Guilt coils inside her chest. 

“Let us go home,” he adds softly.

Zuri stares at the split tree, rolling her lips together at the sight. At the images that come with it. The part of her that already misses her and part that wants her gone in a way that's more permanent than a magically powered cell. She nods, leans into him despite how wrong she feels for doing it, and he leads her away. 

She needs to just… get away from here.

[grapecaseschoices]

thank you for being a friend~

this is my @wayhavenficexchange gift to @rosejellyy. thank you so much for this opportunity to learn about iris; i adore her! i had a great time reading yours, and others, works in my research about her. i hope i did right by her and that you enjoy!

who: Iris Lee & Farah Hauville when: sometime post book three; so some spoilers but i tried to keep it vague what: that's my best friend, she a real cool chick. [a lot of introspection with smatterings of dialogue; 2.5k just about] where: haley's and the warehouse! warning: cute.

Growing up, Iris hadn't had many close friends.

The more correct determiner was 'any' -- Iris hadn't had any close friends. She had made acquaintances growing up and had even been invited to parties. But for the most part, Iris tried to keep to herself. Growing up, she had convinced herself that it had been to keep people from asking awkward questions, that it had been because she wanted to avoid any problematic situations for Rebecca. (She had hoped maybe if her mother viewed Iris as undemanding and manageable … convenient, even, that her mother could better make space for her.)

(Those were the little reassurances that lonely children whispered into their pillows as they tucked themselves to sleep.)

The truth of it was that Iris had been afraid.

The reasons behind her fear didn't matter at the moment. Partly because the concerns of that lonely little girl seemed feeble in the face of the woman she had become and the friendships she had made. But mostly because it was difficult for fear to violently, steadily erect itself into her consciousness at the face of Farah Hauville's twinkling, bright gaze.

Still, Iris had to fight a desire to fidget. She took a steadying breath, her eyes glued on Farah's face as her friend took everything before them. The truth was evident in the taller woman's expression, but she still had to ask: "Do you lik -- oomph."

As a detective, Iris prided herself on being discerning and understanding - and as a friend, she did her best to maximize those traits - so she probably should have seen this coming; nevertheless, she managed to absorb the impact of Farah's tacklehug (and bouncing shouts of happiness) enough to keep them both steady on their feet.

"How did you -- ! -- this is -- this ... ! ... and the colors! The unicorn is HUGE Iris!!"

Iris hugged Farah tightly in return, her own happiness bright inside her chest as she listened to the young vampire stumble over her words.

Farah pulled back slightly, golden eyes shining, "Did you -- you did all of this for me?"

"Tina and Nat helped. Actually, Tina helped a lot." It seemed fair to give credit where it was due. Especially since Tina was the only one with actual sleepover experience, Iris' former coworker and still close friend had been as much of a resource as Google.

It seemed even more fair to give Tina credit as it had been her suggestion.

The idea had been borne from a casual conversation during their first bi-monthly "friends date" at Hayleys. The change was difficult. And the new shift in Iris' career meant she wouldn't be able to see Verda and Tina as often as she had in the past. While they all agreed to continue meeting for drinks whenever possible, she had devised a more structured way to catch up with them. Dinner once a month with Sol and Verda (with an open invite to Ava) and coffee time twice a month with Tina.

Sometimes, Tina was magnanimous enough to invite Nat and Farah.

They both always showed up when they could.

That late afternoon, they had flitted through several topics of conversation. Experience had taught Iris how to keep up with Tina's boisterousness. But for the most part, she had followed along with an indulgent smile until they'd dived into the topic of childhood favorite books. It was a pick-up from a previous conversation. It had gone from Tina enthusiastically chattering, "I definitely was a Stacey growing up; I bet you were a little bit of a Mary Ann!" to Iris admitting she had never read the Babysitters Club series (to Tina's mild shock though forgiving understanding). And then Farah declaring that she had never participated in a sleepover (to Tina's horror).

Iris'd decided it was best to not confess to her own lack of experience -- she didn't want to be the first person responsible for making the resilient Tina Ponome wither away in surprise -- but the conversation had stuck with her throughout the day.

No, it hadn't been precisely the conversation but Farah's reaction: The resigned disappointment hidden behind a determined smile. It had prickled under Iris' skin with burning familiarity. She had known Farah had made friends and acquaintances outside of Unit Bravo. It seemed strange that no one had ever invited the young vampire over to spend the night or to go on a girl's trip.

 (She ignored the little voice that reminded her that - outside the occasional stayover at the warehouse - even as an adult, no one had ever invited her to do such things either.)

 Farah's 'smile' had remained under Iris' skin -- unwilling to leave her alone. After the conversation, she found herself looking up the general term to satiate her curiosity. From looking up the word, she found herself looking into decorations (from what children enjoyed to what adults did during girls' nights), and from there, she ended up watching films. It became a full-blown research affair that would've made Nat proud.

In fact, it <i>had</i>. And the tight, hesitant, wary knot that had tried to dissuade Iris from going through with this idea unsnarled under the warmth of Nat's gaze. Nat had been absolutely delighted when Iris handed her an invitation. She shared her excitement over doing this for Farah. Nat's approval, the prospect of Farah's happiness, and her determination buoyed her to also hand Morgan an invitation.

 Morgan had declined as Iris had expected. However, she hadn't expected Morgan to offer to go on a "beer, and other shit, run". 

"It's nice," She had scoffed underneath the surprise Iris hadn't managed to mask. "You wouldn't catch me dead with a giggling, drunk Tina trying to do my hair, but --" Though the rest of the words were bit out, a small smile curled up a corner of her thin lips. "I'll help. Only if you really need it," She added hurriedly beneath the wobbly beam of Iris' smile, "don't go wasting my time for anything less."

"I won't," Iris promised.

"Good," Morgan stated sharply, placing an empty cigarette in her mouth before she turned briskly and walked away. But there was a look in her grey eyes when she shot Iris, a last lingering look that almost made the usually self-restrained detective bounce giddily on her heels. Almost.

Something almost friendly, something that almost caused the dryness that always clogged Iris' throat when she was near Morgan to vanish. 

Though her interaction with the intimidating vampire had turned out fruitful, Iris had little hope for her interaction with Ava. However, it became a non-issue. Before Iris could set the infuriating team leader with an invitation, the Agency had requested a meeting between Commanding Agents and their second-in-command. Meaning Nat ended up having to cancel.

In a continuation of the bad luck, a joint case based in The City ended up pulling away New Detective Tina Ponome at the very last minute. It left Iris little time to reschedule. But decided to be flexible about it -- these cancellations only opened up the door for doing this again in the future. 

A nebulous plan that Iris was sure would go over well with Tina and Nat. (Morgan was another story ... The offer to be their deliverywoman might've been a one-time thing. But that was fine!) 

Iris had mentally filed that away. She shifted her focus on tying any loose end for a group girl's night that had become a sleepover for two. There hadn't been much left to do except ensure that Farah stayed away from the selected sleepover room until -- well, the hours for sleep. That would've been the hardest part if not for the timely visit of the mailperson. 

A purse filled with coupons and Farah in hand, Iris dragged her friend for her first visit to the Wayhaven Mall. A day of shopping and splitting each other up until they came apart at the seams was a great way to pregame for the evening. 

As the time neared, they stopped for ice cream before heading to the warehouse.

And that was how Iris ended up with her arms full with a wiggly vampire. Foresight and knowing Farah well (hopeful for her positive reaction) allowed her to take the bags containing their cold treats and place them somewhere safe. After another hug and a session of bouncing gleefully in place, Iris pulled away, "Come on." She encouraged with a bright smile that stretched for miles, "Let's get changed. I want to reheat the brownies before our ice cream melts." 

"Be back in my jammies in a jiff!" Farah winked as she zoomed into her room. The precision of the vampire's speeding hit more like a pleasant breeze.

Farah made good on her promise, and Iris is just pulling the blood from the microwave -- warmed exactly to her friend's preference -- when a slight gust of wind is her only warning before the other woman speaks, "But you're not even dressed yet!" 

Iris doesn't have to turn around to see the smaII pout or the impatient bouncing on heels. She bit back a giggle as she looked over her shoulder, "This blood isn't going to warm itself."

"And I can't have this sleepover by myself!" Farah expertly volleys back in response to her pert response.

"I was going to change as soon as I finish adding the marshmallows that --"

Farah's golden eyes took up her entire face in surprise. They were wide and bright and pulled Iris in like a ship to a lighthouse. Iris hadn't stopped feeling warm since her friend had seen everything she, Nat, and Tina had set up for her. She wasn't just proud of how well they set up but also couldn't stop the delight that echoed what burst across Farah's features.

Her fingers itched to grab her phone to take a picture. She knew Tina and Nat were regretting being unable to make it tonight, and they deserved to bask in Farah's joy as much as she did. Besides, Iris wanted to immortalize this moment, as well. It earned a special place in her apartment among the slowly growing gallery of memories.

"Are those the special, limited edition rainbow 'mallows??" Farah burst out. Iris didn't mind the interruption at all; she nodded earnestly. She handed the bag into Farah's hands. This time, Iris couldn't suppress her amused snort.

"How! They were sold out at Wayhaven Mart. I couldn't even find them in The City. I checked in almost ALL the online weekly circulars!"

"Let's just say now, I know better than to bet against Nat when it comes to finding rare things and shopping," Iris stated as she poured some of the blood into Farah's favorite large mug. Typically, it was straight from the bag, but Farah occasionally enjoyed her marshmallows floating in warm blood. (A strange tendency that Iris had quickly learned to make peace with.) This occasion merited a special treat; she had even gotten the young vampire a new twisty, purple straw for it as well.

Farah let out an impressive squawk. 

Iris placed the mug down and washed her hands at the sink. Marshmallows and blood were somewhat forgotten as the taller woman trailed after her, "Nat got these? Natalie Sewell? Nat Sewell brought Miss Maples' Monstrous Marshmallows? Did she know it's dyed <;i>with food coloring&lt;/i>??!!? Nat thinks food coloring is --'' Farah freezes as a thought almost bowls her over, "How did Nat even find these? Did Nat use the Internet? Iris?? Iris, where are you going! I --"

"I thought you told me to get dressed!" She called over her shoulder as she made her "escape" (Iris was sure if she looked behind her, she would find the bamboozled vampire still holding onto the bag of sweets); her teasing laughter filled the corridor. 

Her joy, at this moment, was bigger than her body. It was almost bigger than this space.

ris was no super-speeding vampire; however, it wasn't very long before the two of them were enjoying the set up. Iris had Farah choose the movies and Farah choose the games. After all, this night was for her friend. And though Iris was in the same boat of sleepover-less past, her true enjoyment came from knowing that she had done right with all of her choices. Her true enjoyment came from the very fact that she had a friend and she was helping said friend heal parts of her that needed healing. Iris liked being needed and it helped fill a gaping hole in her own chest when she succeeded in taking care of those she loved. She didn't want them to have any doubts that she appreciated them in her day-to-day. (Iris didn't want to give them any reason to unfit her from their lives.)

Of course, it wasn't easy to pull "whatever you want to do" with Farah.

"I could do that on my own anytime!" She protested. Farah's earlier words echoed in Iris' mind: <i> "And I can't have this sleepover by myself!"</i>

Iris put her hands up and smiled slightly, "All right. All right, you're right! How about this? You pick a movie now and we'll eat a snack that I want. Then I pick the movie and then we play a game you like after?"

"Deal!"

Things didn't exactly go to plan, but for the most part they kept their compromise. By their third film, Iris ended up sitting between Farah's legs as the other woman gently brushed her mass of curls from her face, "I didn't know you were so good at doing hair! I don't think I've ever gotten my hair to compromise." Iris tentatively touched the soft strands that Farah had managed to get to lie (mostly) flat against her scalp.

"How else do you think I look so fire fly everyday?"

Iris flushed slightly. That was a good point. "Agency beautician?" She was grateful that Farah briefly let go of her hair before she jerked back and began cracking up.

She was still giggling when she started braiding Iris' hair again. Iris didn't have much opportunity to stay settled in her embarrassment as she found herself giggling in return.

--

Later in the night (well into the next day; the birds were already chirping outside though it was still dark), after they had stuffed themselves and watched every film on the roster - and some shows to boot - Iris found herself drooping to sleep. Her body curled so forward that it was a surprise that she didn't topple the comfortably recling Farah off her lap. But maybe because of that she managed to hear the gentle whisper, "I had so much fun." A tiny, answering, smile tiredly stretched across Iris' lips. Even if Farah hadn't said as much - and she had several times - she had shown it. And that was enough for Iris. "Thank you for sharing tonight with me."

Something sharped pricked at the back of Iris' eyes and her eyelids fluttered open. Her breathing hitched slightly and she corrected herself: No. This – this was enough for her. Getting to have this moment with one of her best friends.

"Thank you for sharing tonight with <i>me</i>."

Farah's smile was soft as she looked up and tucks a stray curl behind Iris' ear, "Anytime, bestie. Anytime."

[nelkenbabe]

Wayhaven WIP:

While hanging out in the living room, Nate once again encourages the Detective to put more effort into the improvement of her and Rebecca’s relationship. Unfortunately, he has to learn that goodwill is not all it takes. Set sometime during Book 2

"It's fine," Erin said casually, but with an undercurrent of finality.

Nate peered at her, slightly discomforted by the way she closed off ever so slowly. The silence didn't feel as amiable as before. Concerned that his words hadn’t been taken as intended, he decided to venture forth once more. Perhaps his tone hadn’t been well-meaning enough.

"I hope you two will continue to improve your relationship. I know the distance may seem insurmountable at times, but your mother loves you very much."

The reaction was so instantaneous that Nate almost flinched. Erin tensed under his arm, her blood pressure spiked, and a distinct scent of stress suddenly wafted off the detective. It took a moment to taste it on his tongue and identify not only anger, but fear, and in that moment Erin had already pushed herself off the couch. 

For two long seconds she simply stood there facing him, facial muscles frozen, her chest expanding and deflating at a rapid pace. Her lips opened, something on the verge of falling out, something crucial. Then she pressed them back together.

"I better get going," Erin finally said in a tone that was all-too-reminiscent of Adam, and Nate’s face fell.

Because with Adam, his clipped responses never meant the end of anything but the conversation. Regardless of how often they would disagree on something, his and Nate’s friendship remained untouched. There was a security there that he had thought he had with the detective as well, until now. And the sense of her potentially slipping through his fingers had a slick fear gliding through his belly, constricted his throat.

He rose from the couch slowly, smoothly, while Erin darted over to the table to grab her bag. She had trouble expressing her feelings, she’d told him so. But now she didn’t seem to trust him enough to meet his eye, and this hurt most of all.

“Erin,” he called out softly once her fingers clenched around the deep red strap of her leather satchel.

He could hear the way her heart skipped a beat, indicating that she’d heard him. She turned in a tightly controlled whirl, a strained smile on her lips that reminded him of Rebecca.

Talk to me. Tell me what I’ve done wrong.

“It was nice,” Erin said, voice softer than the stiffness in her stance would suggest. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Nate. I’ll see you soon.”

And then, with a deep inhale that she would not release, Erin started towards the door to leave the living room, pulling the mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans. 

I can tell you of the love you will share. Of a love so strong it may survive eternities. Of comfort. Of passion. Of truth.

Nate finally started to feel his limbs again. He couldn’t let her walk out on this note. Couldn’t bear to spend a day or more apart wondering if he’d irreversibly broken what they’d been building. If she would ever look at him with precious candidness again.

Just as Erin had exited the living room, he heard her exhale and sped after her.

“Erin, wait!” 

Look at me. 

She turned, the expression in her eyes weary and knuckles pale where her hand clenched over her phone. But she did return his gaze.

“I-” Nate’s mouth grew dry before he composed himself. “I didn’t mean to overstep. Your relationship with Rebecca is yours alone. As someone who cares for both of you, I simply meant to offer some support. Forgive me. I didn’t know this was such a sensitive topic for you.”

To his absolute relief, the air around the detective immediately lost some of its acidic tasting static. Her shoulders dropped immediately, her head tilted back, and her breath and pulse both slowed. She gave a short nod. Averted her eyes. Hesitated. Focused her gaze back on him.

“I don’t like talking to you guys about Rebecca,” Erin said, speaking in a slow and measured manner. 

Nate had noticed this way of speaking a few times now, and suspected she adopted it when she wanted to express herself with the utmost accuracy. 

This can be salvaged.

With renewed hope, Nate stepped closer, a warm, careful smile playing about his lips.

“May I ask why?” he asked, low, so the rest of Unit Bravo wouldn’t overhear too much.

It took Erin a while to reply. She simply looked at him, the same as she had after jumping off the couch, as if she were measuring how well he’d take her thoughts. Previously, he must have left her wanting. This time, he hoped she would reconsider.

“Because,” she began, “I feel like you guys think my issues with Rebecca just come from her lying about her job, and that’s not true. I don’t wanna put myself on a pedestal, but I think I handled myself well enough when I found out about the supernatural world.”

Nate choked his instinct to jump in and validate, lest the interruption cause Erin to break off. And sure enough, the more she talked, the more the tension in her jaw eased.

“My issue is that after I learned about everything, she told me we’d work on our relationship. No more lies or secrets, as long as it wasn’t something classified or whatever. But everything else I learn about supernaturals, or the Agency, I still learn by complete accident while everything is already going down the drain, and only cause I remember to ask questions. And even then I am sometimes blown off, like how nobody wanted to tell me what Trappers are.”

A pang of guilt hit Nate squarely in the chest when he remembered Adam’s dismissal of her question. He hadn’t even registered it in the moment.

“And then,” Erin continued, picking up the pace, “I learn, basically in a subclause, that my father knew about all this and was also a human liaison for the Agency.”

Her gaze shot up and fixed him with heated intensity, as though willing him to understand the urgency of that revelation. 

“Two months,” she said, voice wavering. “Two months, I barely hear from her, or anyone. Cause you’re all busy, I know. But she couldn’t make time to meet me once and fill me in on things she kept from me as a kid? About our family? 

“Do you realize that you’ve probably had more conversations with her in the last ten years than I had with her between the ages of ten and twenty? I spent more time with neighbors that I’d go to after school than my mother, cause she was never home. I had to teach myself how to cook and forge her signature for report cards and other documents cause she was never home. At age 15 I was running around town until after midnight and got picked up by cops, cause all I had at home was silence. 

“And I was willing to leave all that behind us, cause now I know the reason and Rebecca said we’d work on it. I’m not just holding a petty grudge for the hell of it, Nate. Nothing’s changed. She’s made no effort to fill the blanks. All she’s done is tell me she doesn’t want me to die. And she does this when all of Unit Bravo is around, too, where I have to choose between pretending everything is fine, or having you guys think I’m being a bitch for no reason. I’m sorry. But I think I deserve better.” 

Erin took a deep breath. 

“And I didn’t wanna talk about it because I know you guys love her. I didn’t want to put you in this spot where you could feel like you have to pick a side.”

Something in Nate melted, and before he could stop himself he closed the rest of the distance between them. The fingers of his right hand laced in hers, and he gingerly lifted his left to touch her cheek. She leaned into it as if almost by instinct, and he had to remind himself to breathe. 

She still felt safe around him. That was all he could ever need.

“It’s kind of you to worry about us,” he said gently, and watched the frown on Erin’s face smoothe over. Grimness gave way to grief. “I didn’t realize the situation was so complicated. And I’m sorry all of us weren’t diligent about keeping you in the loop. Believe me, I wanted to. Very much so, in fact.”

A soft, tired laugh escaped Erin that caused a tug in Nate’s chest. But she tipped her head forward and rested it against him.

“Yeah,” it came muffled from somewhere below Nate’s chin, “would have been nice to not feel like I was dropped off the face of the earth right after being mauled by a vampire.”

Nate frowned.

“That was not the intention. R-”

Erin’s head snapped back up.  A chill wound down Nate’s spine when he realized the mistake he had just committed.

“Rebecca said what?” Erin asked sharply. 

A little part of Nate had to almost laugh at how quickly she had pieced his choked off sentence together. And he might have. If he didn’t have the distinct feeling that he had just put himself in the exact situation that Erin had not-so-tactfully tried to avoid in the first place.

“Ah… she said… it would be best to give you space to heal after everything that happened,” he admitted after a few seconds. “To adjust.”

Anger flashed over her face, just for the briefest of seconds. Then she let go of Nate’s hand to raise both of hers to palm her face. A mix between a scoff and a bitter laugh came muffled through her fingers before she inhaled deeply and dropped her hands again.

“Do me a favor, please, going forward,” she said with a slightly ironic undertone, “and don’t ever assume that Rebecca knows what’s best for me.” 

“Done,” Nate replied.

“She really thought that after everything, I wanted radio silence from you guys?” Incredulousness was poured into every word. “The only people who could understand what-... what happened that night? The absolutely insane few weeks I’ve had? All of it, and I was alone afterwards. Without so much as a phone call from Farah. I thought you guys were busy with cleaning up the mess so I didn’t want to be a nuisance. But the longer I didn’t hear anything, the more I thought you had changed your minds about wanting to work with me, cause I was human and too squishy or something. Rebecca has no idea who I am or what I want. What I wanted was to see you.” 

Erin paused, holding her breath again for a long moment. Then she added, voice small and just barely above a whisper: “I-... I wanted to see you, Nate.”

[wayhavensecretsanta]

Wayhaven Fic Exchange

Hi TWC fanfic writers!

I’m excited to announce this Wayhaven gift exchange!

Now that Book 3 has been released for a while and we’ve had a change to read it and let everything sink in (and read it again), this seemed like a great time to do a fic exchange.

The idea of this exchange is that you will get assigned to another participant, your “giftee”. You will then write a fic featuring that person’s detective*, and someone else will write a fic for you, about your detective. This can be a sweet, romantic fic about the detective and their LI, but it can also be about found family feels with UB, or you could go in a more angsty direction. Whatever you think will make a great gift for the other person!

At the end of the exchange, all participants will share their gifts with their giftee and on here, so everyone will be able to see what has been created for this event ^^

When?

Deadline signing up: 9 July

Everyone will receive a message with the information of their giftee before 14 July 

Deadline for turning in fic: Monday 14 August (09:00 CEST) This corresponds to 17:00 AEST; 01:00 CST

Gifting: 20 - 27 August 

Since the gift is meant to be a surprise, the gifter will only reveal themself to the giftee when sharing their fic.

The minimum word count is 800 words.

If you want to sign up, send me a message! You will get a link to a sign-up sheet on which you can give some basic info about your OC(s) and their worldstate.

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

Looking forward to hearing from you and to reading the no doubt wonderful fics that will be written <3

For more information, see the pinned post.

*Other TWC OCs are also very welcome!