#y’all ever heard of a red flag warning I haven’t now we have it every day due to the heat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waithyuck · 3 years

Text

touch

pairing: ghost!zhong chenle x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: supernatural au, fluff (with suggestive tones)

word count: like 2k cuz I suck

warnings: one lil mention of murder, themes of haunting, suggestive content (like kissin and some heavy petting, but nothing explicit y’all), non consensual touching (not in a sexual way, more like ‘omg I think a ghost touched me’ yk), explicit language, chenle is a lil lonely ghost boi, reader simps for him,,,,and forms a relationship,,,,with a ghost,,,,

a/n: FUCK IT ITS FINALLY DONE. FUCK. is this edited??? HAHAH. no

< previous

~12/17/2020~

~~~~

moving out on your own for the first time was hands down probably the scariest thing you’ve had to do in your short life. sure, finding a place that was relatively cheap had you excited at the possibility of having a sense of responsibility, and getting away from your parents was a definite plus, but the entire prospect of being alone was, well, terrifying.

you probably should have asked more questions when agreeing to move into said place; a one bedroom apartment that was big enough to fit you and you only. it was cute and clean, and it was all you needed with the minimal amount of things you had.

the cheap price didn’t raise any red flags in your admittedly stupid and naive brain, but it definitely should have. you cursed yourself looking back at not inquiring about exactly why it was affordable.

about two weeks in is when some weird shit started to go down.

you expected there to be the usual noises that occur in an apartment building, but the ones you heard in the early hours of the morning, every morning, seemed a little bit different.

it sounded like small sniffling, like crying, and sometimes the floorboards would creak softly outside your bedroom door, scaring you beyond belief. you even went as far to ask you neighbor if they had been crying every night, to which she looked at you like you had gone nuts.

the touches started not too long after that.

you felt like you were going insane, but you would swear on whatever god you needed to that there was something touching you at night.

light, feather like traces across the skin of your arms, light presses against your face and shoulders, and the occasional cold poke against your legs had you almost ready to give up on the apartment entirely.

you couldn’t leave though; if you were to break the contract you signed, you would lose an incredible amount of money just for vacating early.

you tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination; stupid childlike paranoia from watching horror movies as a kid.

however much you tried, nothing would be able to convince what was before you currently, was part of your imagination.

“woah, what the fuck?!” you screamed, your eyes widening at the sight of the extremely pale boy standing a few feet in front of you. “who the fuck are you?” you clutched what remained of the pile of laundry in your arms, the rest fallen onto the floor as your heart seemingly beat through your rib cage when he stared back at you in awe.

“wait, you can see me?” he asked quietly, his mouth agape as your face screwed up in confusion.

“what? of course I can see you, what the actual fuck?” you blurted back, subconsciously taking a small step backward, dropping the rest of the clothes as the boy seemed to float forward. his feet didn’t touch the ground and he seemed to slowly become more translucent the farther down his body you looked, shocking you even more.

“oh my god,” your breath was staggered as you became to realize what this boy actually was. “oh my god, are you dead?!”

“well that’s one way to put it, yeah.” he stayed out where he was, not moving forward any more into your space. “I’m a ghost.” he put both his hands up and gave a small sheepish smile. “ta-daaa…”

your brows furrowed in confusion, your idiotic human brain trying to process what was actually going on in your apartment right now.

“so wait a minute,” you started suddenly, bracing your hand on the wall beside you to keep yourself steady. “have you been the one touching me at night? what the hell, dude??” you weren’t sure how it was possible, but a blush rose to his ghostly cheeks.

“I didn’t mean anything creepy by it…” he softly spoke, looking down at his feet. “I just haven’t felt any human contact in a...very long time. I’m sorry.”

you wanted to be more angry at him, but then thoughts swirled into your mind of how lonely he must have been, and how long he could have possibly been here on his own.

you continued to converse with the ghost boy (crazy, you were aware) and came to find out that he was actually straight up murdered in this exact apartment about twenty years ago. the most surprising part was that the damn apartment building you were living in has been around that long, considering it’s shady history.

chenle was visibly upset talking about it, sparing the gory details but explaining enough for you to understand that he was killed in his sleep during a robbery turned hostile. it made your heart ache knowing that he died alone, and has been alone ever since.

sure, there were people living in this place before you, but no one stayed long, for obvious reasons. they either found out the history of the murder or were scared away by chenle who was just trying to fill the whole in his dead, ghostly heart.

“you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” he finally asked, his voice somber.

you did consider it before, but now it felt wrong to do, especially after meeting and somewhat befriending the exact thing that was potentially going to drive you away.

“no,” you replied solidly, shocking him as his head shot up to look at you. “I’m not going anywhere, now that I know you’re not gonna like, try to kill me or anything.”

you tried to joke to make the atmosphere more lighthearted, and it seemed to work as a chuckle escaped him. you sat in silence for a few moments, before a realization hit you.

“wait, wait,” you put a hand out in front of you in emphasis, surprising the boy in front of you. “how are you able to touch things?” you paused for a moment, “and me?”

the boy, chenle, rolled his eyes at you before looking at you with a void expression. “jeez, everyone has the stereotypes so messed up. have you ever seen the movie ghost with patrick swayze? it came out in like 1990.”

you blinked at him a few times before nodding slowly, having an idea of where he was going with his point.

“yeah well, it’s like that,” he paused, coming closer to you and reaching his hand out tentatively, trying to gauge your reaction. “if we just practice enough,” He was close now, directly in front of you with his hand hovering over your arm. “we can touch whatever we want, whenever we want.” his hand wrapped around your wrist gently to prove his words to be true, and you softly gasped at the feeling, still trying to wrap your head around this crazy scenario you were living in.

“that’s nice,” you said, slightly nervous at your own reaction to him touching you. you couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel nice to have someone caress your skin so gently…

he stared at you silently, his face seemingly emotionless as he held you. it didn’t take a genius to decipher the look in his eyes, however. glistening with life and longing, looking at you like you were the only person in the world...and you supposed to him, you were.

“you’re so…” he started, his voice quiet as his other hand reached out to touch your face. hesitant at first, he drew his hand back a millimeter, before letting his fingers brush against your cheek as you sighed and found yourself leaning into him. “pretty. so pretty.”

it seemed crazy; this raw form of attraction at first sight that you were feeling. you had no doubt he was experiencing it too, just from his confession alone.

your lips parted to speak, but no words came forth as you brain short circuited, taking in his handsome features as you finally realized just how attractive he was.

the hand that was holding your wrist slowly slid up your arm, causing your skin to prickle at the sensation of his touch on your skin. it slid up over your shoulder and up your neck, to finally rest on your cheek like his other hand was now doing.

the moment was insanely soft and intimate, and even though his hands were slightly cold, the air around you both seemed to grow warmer and warmer with every passing second, almost suffocating you with each shaking breath you took.

without a second thought, you lunged forward into his space, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him softly, his hands dropping from your cheeks to rest on your waist as a surprised grunt came from within him.

‘this is so crazy’, you thought, leading him into your room as you kept your lips attached, ‘absolutely insane.’

you weren’t sure how this even came to happen; you’d never thought you’d be flat on your back against your mattress while a literal ghost boy ran his hands up and down your waist as he kissed you like a man starved. you were still slightly convinced that he was a figment of your imagination; he felt so real, nothing like what you assumed a ghost would feel like against your skin.

his hands weren’t as warm as a living humans would be, but you still relished in the feeling of his fingers gripping at the skin of your waist, holding you close to him as he kissed you without holding back.

you highly expected him to be shy and inexperienced; since he had died so young you figured he wouldn’t know what to do.

it was a stupid assumption, to say the least.

you gripped his hair gently and tried to sit up, only to have him keep you down as he sweetly moved his mouth against your own. his grip was becoming more needy and before it could go too far, you pulled back.

you relished in the sight of his red puffy lips, seemingly so alive and human, like blood was still coursing through his veins. his eyes showed wide, blown out pupils as he stared down at you, his eyes hooded slightly.

he licked his lips once before softly falling beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as you both laid in the middle of your mattress in a calming silence.

“well that was a strange turn of events.” you panted, curling your body beside him as you tried to catch your breath. who knew that a dead boy would be such a damn good kisser?

he smirked at you in response, not saying anything as he grabbed your hand in his.

“now you definitely can’t go anywhere. I’m attached.” he teased, looking at you longingly with a cheeky smile on his face. you rolled your eyes but still smiled nonetheless, knowing that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway, for a very long time.

you weren’t sure how this was all going to work out, but you’d figure it out as you went along, together.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nctcreations #chenle #zhong chenle #chenle fluff #chenle scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct dream fluff #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #how do I tag #halloweenie special #nct 2020 #nct u

191 notes · View notes

sickassastrology · 3 years

Text

YES, THEY WILL REACH OUT, BUT...💔😥

hey aqua, this reading is for yall For the month ahead. it is a general reading and will not resonate with everyone. take what fits; leave the rest. Remember energies Can be reversed, so it could be your person who is an Aquarius doing this to you. There is no gender tarot. Time is fluid not linear. Always follow your heart no matter what. -E 💙🌻

Let’s get started. I’m what I’m feeling already is there has been some type of situation that has been stressing you out. It’s weighing you down. Mentally, emotionally, psychically. It’s like you’ve been holding your breath. You haven’t really expressed any emotions, how you’ve been feeling and what you’ve been thinking. You just have been holding on to the energy. but in this upcoming month that will be fading away. I’m hearing recuperate and rejuvenate. get.ting yourself and mind back together. There is a situation aqua, you’ve have to let it go. If someone has done you wrong, you’ve been waiting around for their apology. It’s hindering you from moving forward. Just saying I’m pushing on. You’re waiting for closure. I’m getting the energy of “just say you did it, just tell me the truth”. It really has you stuck. But I feel like you want to actually forgive this person. Like if they would come and apologize, you’ll forgive them because you don’t really want it to be over. I’m seeing like you’re willing to hang in there and stick through it with this person. Stay in it, into the thick of it with them! But it has to end. You already know this person, a lot of memories. Could have met them at a younger age. but the times you had with them have gone sour. It’s like the thoughts are just slowly fading away. I see that some of y’all gave money to this person or they used you for it. If it’s not money, it was your energy, time, or effort. and now you have yourself in a tangle helping them out. Now you’re the one that’s stuck. Can’t get any clarity or balance yourself anymore. And yet, you’re still willing to be there for this person. There’s no communication right now in this connection. I do see that there was a fallout and that’s why you’re looking for justice and an apology. The tower came down on you two and ended things. I just heard “dirty secrets” that came out. Whatever it was, caused a lot devastation. A lot of harsh energy. I’m getting lots of cussing and fussing-unpleasant. But the thing is aqua, your so deeply involved with this person that you’re trying to block out that they even did this to you. You’re pushing it down, holding the weight. Like it’s the energy of if this person comes back and apologizes I’ll forget this ever even happened. This person lashed out on you because you found something out. I’m seeing a third party. I see an ex lover or a mother’s child. And it came out that they were still involved and everything came to a halt. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Mkay Aquarius, now that the tough cycle is done and the situation is out of way, and it’s time to take a breath out…..Let’s see what’s coming in for this new month. So if your wandering if this person will come back, the answer is yes. Will y’all make up? yes (for some). I’m feeling like you are very weary when this person comes around. They will reach out. But let me say this aqua, I don’t see it’s going to be the apology you wanted. They aren’t going to really address what happened. They will go around it with questions about how you’ve been and what’s new for you. This individual has an issue with accountability. They would rather you just keep doing what you have been and that’s forgiving them every time they come back. Like knowing they did you wrong and you just loving them with open arms. That’s what this person wants. They don’t want to come forward and explain themselves and this will disappoint you. Because you feel like this last time a lot went down and they don’t want to talk about it. Your still going to be waiting. I’m telling you all right now, they aren’t going to talk about the third party. They will just come back, but you’re still waiting on the truth. The energy of “you got away with hurting me. You hurt me, ghosted me, and now your just back?” And all I’m wanting is an apology and expression of love and you’re aren’t worried about it”. So because of that aqua, you’re just like “ehh, I’m not too sure”. And honestly, you feel like they are still juggling other things anyway. Like they are coming forward but looking at their past at the same time. There is something that you feel isn’t right with them. I feel it’s like “your still messing with them aren’t you!”And you’re right, they are still juggling. They are trying to make peace with you and someone else. But this tough may be ending for some of you. I see that some of y’all will not go for the antics of it all this time around. You’re choosing YOU. this time you’re thinking very hard about should you even give this person another chance. This person has a strong connection to you. Very deep. But it’s like should I go or am I playing with fire? Won’t I get hurt again? Yes, they are offering the cup of love, but it’s like is it real? Or is it an offer just so you can come back. Like although it’s love…..their love hurts you. Burns and leaves you scorned. There’s a snake on this card and it’s drinking the water. it’s like they offer their love because you’ll take it and give it back to them. And then they drink it and leave you with nothing and hurt. And now, you’re thinking about all those times. I feel like when you offer love to your person, the universe warns you and shows you those red flags. And you see them, but you still move forward thinking you can make it through. And then you end up completely hurt, tired, and disappointed. ***and I ain’t judging aqua, we all do it*** but it looks like you are putting your foot down. You aren’t rushing back in to this person. You’re telling this person you need some time to think. They pissed you off bad this time around. You are still hurt and angry. Because this person didn’t come in like they should have, you are considering your own feelings. *I heard spirit say you confronted your person about the third party but hey….stick up for yourself. so let’s see what happens if you do choose yourself this time because that’s what’s going to end this tough cycle for you. It’s going to give you time to think and reflect. But you aren’t sad about going within. You’re realizing that everything isn’t fair. But by walking away you feel a sense of empowerment, although the situation is sad. I see you all talking to friends and family again. For some of y’all, you’re close to a grandmother. There’s a strong sense of coming home and being with the people you love. You may have shut down a lot, but you’re going to get back into your own happiness. Wrapping up those gold cycles. Being free again, getting into old hobbies. Treating yourself to things. You will finally break out of mental activity going on. The deception

and lies but no more. Like maybe “I can get out of my head.” Because aqua, if you have to worry so much about if someone is doing something, they probably are. And that takes up so much energy. I’m just feeling a reclaiming of life for you. ❤️❤️❤️

*special Oracle: be insightful and established: ground and rebalance your energy. Bring your awareness into the now rather than allowing it to occupy your past or future.

*special charms (own interpretation): guitar, Gemini, Scorpio, crescent moon, peace sign, cat, white rabbit, candy cane.

#aquarius #tarot #october #love #relationships

1 note · View note

domreaderrecs · 3 years

Note

Oh boy do I have some kink discourse for you. Here’s a wholeass list:

1. A female dominant does not need to be a sadist who is always torturing and abusing their sub. They can be soft and kind and caring.

2. Findom is a valid form of domination and is really a kink, it is not just women faking it to get money.

3. Online domination is possible, although there are more risks involved, it is still a valid form of domination.

4. Submissive black men are allowed to refuse to be called slave and their dom shouldnt be annoyed they can’t used their preferred honorific.

5. Kink and fetishes can be incorporated without the use of the power dynamic found in BDSM.

6. BDSM is still BDSM if the rope is pink and the outfit is white lace instead of red and leather.

7. It should be standard practice for there to be a safe word that means everything is fine so that the Dom can check in on the sub easily without breaking the scene.

8. It is only BDSM when both parties have discussed before hand, otherwise it’s sexual assault (yes that includes Chad who brought out the rope without warning and now Bethany is just going along because she likes him)

9. BDSM has always and will always be driven by the LGBT community.

10. Under 18 year olds do not have a place in the BDSM community. If they wish to learn, then they should do so by finding articles and books, not by asking people involved in the scene.

Yeah that’s about it for now. I’m realizing you probably didn’t want this much but oh well. We’re here now. Let me know what you think!

whewww so much to unpack here lets go its essay time

1. !!!! this is probably one of the most fundamentally misunderstood parts of femdom. it don’t gotta be ball crushing and whipping and calling him a worm all the time, or even at all. this is probably what turns so many women off from trying it or thinking they might be into a more dominant role. gentle femdom is way more palatable for beginners and for me personally, just way more enjoyable (even tho i definitely would wanna make a boy cry from time to time)

2. I used to be one of those people who looked down on findom. I still don’t understand why anyone would be into it tbh but findoms get a lot of shit for no reason... being a sugar baby is so glamorized but if you’re a findom you’re cold, or a bitch, or taking advantage. even though they’re both just people who get money from men who have money to throw at them for sexual favors... but one’s demonized and one’s all the rage... hm i wonder why

3. I have no real/successful experience with this... more on that in number 10

4. 100000%!! the stories i’ve seen from black subs in kink (mostly black women but still) are horrendous. a lot of doms will try to enforce a master/slave relationship, and try to exercise their authority to make subs agree to it. i know it’s a common dynamic, but that shit is wayyyy different to black people... any dom should know that. forcing your sub to do anything is wrong, but especially something so racially, historically, and culturally insensitive. and don’t get me started on the surprise “race play” stories i’ve heard... like i said doing anything without your sub’s consent is wrong but THAT kind of thing requires double consent with a cherry on top. this is part of the reason I’m so scared to enter the kink scene... this shit scares me. thats why the title mistress and master/slave dynamics in general just isn’t for me. it makes me think of my ancestors :/

5. again, 1000% agree. i’ve said this on my blog before, but i’ll say it again. not everything has to be dom/sub stuff. if you wanna peg your bf you don’t have to tie him up and call him names or boss him around, you can just peg him. i feel like ever since FSOG this whole dom/sub thing has grown way out of proportion, but that’s a whole other essay for another day

6. yessss I hate the stereotype of dom outfits as black, latex, leather, way too high to walk in boots... like does it look fire?? yes of course but pink and lace and knee high socks would make a fit that’s just as fire.

7. this is non-negotiable to me. whenever I hear someone say “I don’t like safe words” or “I/We don’t need a safe word” it’s just a red flag to me. idc what anyone says safe words are mandatory.

8. Yes. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but with the rise of the popularity of “rough sex” (again, thanks FSOG) there’s seems to be a rise in people who just assume their partner may be into something, or who just try to experiment on their partner without asking them first. I’ve heard a lot of friends and other girls talk about guys just going straight into choking them, spanking them, and pulling their hair without even asking if they like it (another reason I’m scared to get out there and do stuff, as a person who is very much not a sub or into being treated roughly or tossed around, it’s a big fear of mine). I’ve also seen a lot about girls just randomly trying to finger their boyfriends. If it’s not vanilla, and y’all haven’t discussed it, do not assume it’s on the table. We’ve gotten to a point that kinky stuff is so talked about and normalized (especially with young adults) that people forget it’s actually kinky.

9. period.

10. okay so story time, around the age of 15/16 is when I started to realize I was into kinky stuff. The preference had kinda always been there, but I couldn’t really place a name to it. I had always felt like an outcast among my peers when it came to the way they would talk about romantic and sexual relationships (I was a year ahead, so all my friends were 1-2 years older than me, so they started to do that stuff earlier than I did) because the things they talked about and liked were way different from the stuff I would think/fantasize about, so I always stayed quiet (teenage girls are very vocal about having choking/daddy kinks but that’s definitely indicative of a much larger problem that i will not get into bc that’s a whole other very very long essay that I will definitely write on here one day but not now). So when I found out what gentle femdom was I felt like I had a community that understood me, and everything just clicked. I would lurk on online communities and I lived for the discourse on there but I could never actively participate because every community had a strict “no minors” policy. They would say exactly what you said, “If minors wish to learn, then they should do so by finding articles and books, not by asking people involved in the scene.” I didn’t want to make anyone catch a case and I didn’t want to get targeted by predators so I tried to follow their advice. i found nothing. There honestly just isn’t that much educational stuff for “kinky teenagers”, or at least none that fit me. There was no femdom oriented stuff. I mean sure there was the standard “consent is important especially in bdsm relationships” but like that didn’t really help me. I had so many questions, that I could never feel comfortable asking my mom or a therapist, and especially not my friends. I didn’t know how to express this part of myself. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it and I couldn’t even watch porn like a normal teenager (we all know the state of femdom porn. its bad) so I was this ball incredible frustration and confusion and i didn’t know what to do with it. So I unfortunately turned to twitter. There I made a little like minded friend. he was also 16 so i thought “this is good, a non adult also kinky teenager who I can relate too. what could go wrong :)”(I’m sure you see where this is going) I was so excited to have a new friend, but ofc, our convos soon took a turn. However, since he was the first person to ever show interest in me, and the only person my age who i could talk to who understood me, i started to catch feelings. But he was a teen just like me, just as horny and confused and sooo immature. He started to pressure me into domming him/becoming his domme, but I refused because I wasn’t ready (i saw on one of those online communities I used to lurk in that its not healthy for your first sexual experience to be bdsm and I took that to heart). he ghosted me. needless to say that “friendship” was toxic. i realized too late that he only saw me as a kink dispenser, and didn’t care about me on a personal level. it also made me realize how not “mature for my age” I was. i say all this to say, NO, teenagers should not be participating in kink. they are not mature enough. however education and resources for them are not where they should be. if we want to discourage them from putting themselves in these situations, we need to better provide them with education and healthy ways to relieve these urges/feelings (i eventually took up writing, it helped me a lot). i feel like had i found a healthier and safer way to express/explore that side of myself, I would’ve never gotten in that situation to begin with. That experience has kinda put me off from dipping my toe into the actual community (well that and the lack of diversity but we’ve already talked about that)

ALSO the amount of very young children i’ve seen in the kink “community” on twitter is alarming... you’re not a little you’re 12

anyways, thanks so much for this essay of an ask and sorry i wrote an essay in response to each one lol but like I said I could discuss kink all day

#thanks anon #thanks shel #more kink discourse #thoughts

11 notes · View notes

earpdearp · 7 years

Text

just the worst™

Wherein Waverly loses her cool when Shorty’s is sold and makes an irrationally rational decision for once. Nicole is mostly confused/caught in the cross-fire.

Borrows conversations from mid-1x09 as a canon-adjacent catalyst to bridge my series “just friends” and “not just friends” together.

Dedicated to user @korderoo for giving me the idea. The straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were.

Also on AO3. Approximately 5,518 words.

Other WayHaught “just friends” fics in this series: just another tuesday | just coffee | just blowing off steam | just the beginning

He showed up at Shorty’s wearing an ill-fitting gray suit with a red tie, a sheaf of paperwork in one hand and briefcase in the other. Normally, Waverly Earp would pay a guy like that little mind. But this gentleman didn’t come into Shorty’s for a drink: he came asking after Gus MacCready.

That set off warning bells for Waverly.

This wasn’t the first time Waverly had seen him. In fact, he’d returned several times in the past few weeks. A nagging worry had started to fester at the back of Waverly’s mind.

The next red flag was how attentive Gus had been to what he had to say. Hours a day were spent sifting through documentation, only to return with more papers a few days later. They typically pored over his paperwork on the upper level table, usually just out of earshot at the bar.

What Waverly did manage to overhear, especially today, set her heart racing. And not in a good way.

“…is this what we agreed on?” Aunt Gus asked, eyes narrowing at the young man.

“To the letter,” he said with a lopsided grin.

Topping off the beer she’d been pouring for Pete, Waverly shot the customer a hurried smile. “There you go,” she muttered and started to turn away to resume her eavesdropping.

“I heard about you and Champ, by the way,” Pete said shyly, sweeping off the brim of his tan flat cap and running fingers over a short crop of hair.

Uh huh, she thought disinterestedly. Waverly affixed a kind smile to her cheeks but avoided eye contact with Pete. She strained to hear what Gus and That Guy were saying, but she could only make out flipping pages and a clicking pen.

“He never treated you right, Waverly,” Pete said. She waved off the comment, mostly because it wasn’t entirely true. But the thought agitated her more than she already was.

Champ wasn’t a bad boyfriend. Or a bad guy. He’s just… not what I’m looking for. Or what I need.

Pete continued, a smile turning the edges of his scruffy cheeks. “I was thinking, you know, any man in Purgatory would be lucky to have you…”

Inwardly groaning, Waverly stopped herself short of scoffing, “But would I be lucky to have them?”

Rolling his thumbs around that mug of beer, Pete’s eyes didn’t quite meeting Waverly’s. “And I was also thinking that—“

Oh God. No no no no no no no.

Eyes widening, Waverly leapt in to cut off his train of thought. “—that you should find a gal like me, only taller, right? So she can actually get up in that custom-lifted, tricked-out pickup of yours?” She nodded at him significantly, praying Pete would get the hint.

Thankfully, Pete took the out rather than the impending bruise to his ego. His grin was a little pained, but he agreed, “Uh, yea. Yea, exactly.” Pausing for a beat, Pete then asked, “…is Wynonna… still around?”

Waverly made an exhale-sound in disgust and shot him a withering glare. She shooed him away from the counter with her bar towel, where he joined his brother at the pool table. There was a lull before the boys started chuckling among themselves and threw looks behind them at Waverly. She glared daggers back and made a swiping motion across her throat while smugly mouthing, “Ha ha you’re cut off.” That shut them up with an expletive before they racked a new game of pool.

Ugh. Men are all the same.

Sighing, Waverly scrubbed at a pair of clean mugs from the dishwasher below the bar. She went back to staring despondently at Gus near the front of the saloon. The older woman was still flipping through a stack of papers, hand at her chin, eyes probing every line of print. A pen rolled on her knuckles, poised and ready.

Just as that pen clicked one final time, Waverly straightened and announced, “I’m gonna take my break now!”

Her aunt only nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes focused on the documents in front of her.

That little brush-off grated on Waverly. She resisted the urge to huff as she gathered up her blue coat and brown purse to head for the door. A chill Purgatory wind stung Waverly’s cheeks as she stepped outside.

But Waverly just couldn’t stay and watch. She knew what was coming. The thing Waverly had been low-key dreading for weeks had arrived, complete with that rumpled gray suit and red tie.

Today was the day: Gus was selling Shorty’s.

“What the frick is going on today?” Waverly asked no one in particular as she stalked down the street, clutching her elbows to brace against the cold.

This whole day had felt off since she’d rolled out of bed this morning.

Even though there had been a lull in BBD cases lately, Wynonna was a scarce sight at the Homestead. So was Doc. Dolls was… Dolls.

And Nicole…

Waverly scowled as she checked her phone. No new SnapChats or text messages. Same as yesterday.

Things were weird with Nicole since Waverly had sent that text after watching the sunrise. It was like they forgot how to be friends.

It was all Waverly’s fault, too. She’d messed things up… crossed the line.

[“It was worth the trip”]

[“So are you”] …stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Plus, the last time they’d bumped into each other outside the station had been a disaster. First they’d actually physically bumped into each other (via hard shoulder-check), then it was a race to see who could apologize first, then a lot of shy ground-kicking and “So…”

Pulling the brim down on her Stetson slightly, Nicole had asked, “So… how’s Wynonna?”

“She’s… Wynonna,” Waverly had replied simply. “So—uh—how’s… Calamity Jane?”

“She’s good.”

“Good.”

(Un)fortunately, Lonnie had knocked on the window to summon Nicole inside, so the women managed to part ways with just awkward smiles. And since then, Waverly had started about a dozen texts but deleted every single one. Which dragged out the weirdness further.

Ugh.

What am I gonna do? How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what the heck would Normal even be?

As she rounded the street corner, Waverly halted dead in her tracks. Because at the next block over, Waverly spotted a familiar, uniformed profile complete with a white Stetson.

Oh you’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me.

Bathed in the flashing lights of her police cruiser, Officer Nicole Haught was indeed standing at the corner. She had her metal clipboard in hand and appeared to be giving a ticket to two college-age blonde girls.

As Waverly approached, she tried to blend in with some storefront awnings. The diner was just up the street and if Waverly could just get some food in her belly, maybe she could come up with a plan to—

“Hey! Wave!”

Frick.

Just on the other side of the street now, Nicole gave a broad smile and a gloved wave. Her motorists had briefly returned to their car to dig out purses and insurance information.

Sighing in resignation as she crossed the street, Waverly managed to step in a freezing puddle. She swore under her breath as the icy water seeped through a sock, soaking her toes. The low-key frustration at the base of her skull started to throb.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Nicole grimaced in empathy when she heard the splash. “Oh shoot, you okay? Sorry, I just wanted to say hey. I—I haven’t seen you in awhile, so…” She trailed off, her dimpled smile soft and sweet.

“Yea, it’s fine,” Waverly said, a little more sharply than she intended. When Nicole shrank back, Waverly gave a tight smile. “Sorry. Today just—today just sucks.” She stamped on her damp foot a little, feeling her sock bunch between her toes uncomfortably.

Ugh.

Tilting her head in sympathy, Nicole started, “I’m sorry to hear that. I tried texting you, but I wasn’t sure if—“

“Yea, me too,” Waverly rushed in with a bashful smile. “I keep just—and then just don’t know what to—“

A sing-sing voice interrupted the woman. “Yoohoo! Officer… Hoht?”

Both women turned at the same time to see the pair of blondes bounding back from their SUV, red passports in hand. They were practicing rolling Nicole’s unfamiliar last name in a foreign tongue. “Europeiska Unionen Sverige” was stamped in gold lettering on those red booklets.

Swedish?

“It’s Haught, ma’am,” Nicole corrected politely. She opened her hand to accept the pair of passports.

“Haaaaw-tuh,” one enunciated slowly. The other giggled, long eyelashes batting over heavily eye-shadowed blue eyes.

Nicole muttered under her breath just loud enough for Waverly to hear, “…Close enough.” She shot Waverly a wink as she continued writing on her metal clipboard.

Left Blonde twirled her scarf around her finger. “Will this be taking long time, Officer Hawwwt? We were wanting to see the Mount Rushmore today.”

Waverly chimed in with a wincing smile. “You’re off by a few hundred miles and a couple states.” She pointed to the southeast. “You want I-90. You’re on I-80.”

An argument started in Swedish, both women angrily slapping at each other’s elbows and shoulders for a few seconds. They also pulled phones from pockets to consult their maps. Waverly and Nicole just exchanged confused (but bemused) glances.

The Right Blonde then shushed the Left and gave a shy smile to Nicole. “You give us directions, maybe? Put us on right road?”

“Uh, sure…” Nicole replied, baffled but cordial. “After we discuss that illegal left turn y’all made. And you were going 22 miles above the posted speed limit.” She waved the ticket pad at them before returning Right Blonde’s passport.

“Is just mistake. Not happen again,” Left Blonde promised.

Right Blonde jumped in, her hand brushing down the elbow of Nicole’s coat (which Nicole pulled away from). “You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? You ever see the Mount Rushmore? Want to be joining us?” Her tone was low, enticing, flirty. Left Blonde nodded in emphatic agreement.

Ughhh. They… are the worst.

Feeling like she was in the way, Waverly started to take a few cautious steps back. Her cold foot made a squishing sound, which turned Nicole’s head. The woman gave Waverly a panicked frown, but for just a second Waverly thought she saw a fond uptilt to Nicole’s lips. Which sent a surge of something through Waverly’s chest, briefly overriding that throbbing frustration.

Right at that moment, the radio on Nicole’s shoulder sounded off with a crackle of static. [“Haught, do you copy?”] A male voice.

The Velcro made a soft ripping sound as Nicole pulled the radio to her mouth and clicked the call button. “This is Haught finishing an 11-95 on Cooper. Go ahead.” She slapped the radio back on her shoulder and continued writing on her ticket pad.

The male dispatcher continued. [“Haught, return to the station when you finish that 11-95.”]

Scowling, Nicole leaned into her radio. “Copy that. …is something wrong?”

[“Nedley wants your ass on desk duty.”] The dispatcher sounded apologetic. [“Something about how you’re the only one who gets shit done around here.”] There was brief, muffled outrage/agreement on the other end of the radio.

“Again?!“ Nicole grumbled under her breath before clicking the button one last time. “10-4, on my way. Haught out.”

The two Swedish women groaned, first at being denied an “escort” and second at the ticket Nicole handed back along with the remaining passport. They attempted to salvage their disappointment by taking selfies with “a real police” and asking for Nicole’s number, which the woman declined (after shooting another panicked look at Waverly).

This whole exchange was… annoying to Waverly. And not just because she seemed invisible. Backing away slowly the way she came, Waverly smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from doing your job. I should—I’ll just go.” She resisted the urge to add an unnecessarily snarky “Have fun” under her breath.

Nicole’s frown was apologetic. “Waverly…” She looked like she wanted to say more.

But Waverly had already turned and ran back across the street. Giving up on the diner, Waverly stomped back to Shorty’s (though she took the long way back, weaving through alleys). At least the walk might give her a chance to maybe clear her head. Minus the fact her boots squished every other step.

She didn’t quite know why she was so irritated, but Waverly’s blood was downright boiling as she strode through “downtown” Purgatory. Running into Nicole used to be such a lovely surprise. But that…

…That was such a stupid thing to be mad about. And what was there even to be mad about? Nothing even happened.

Ugh.

Maybe because Nicole was working and Waverly felt like she was in the way? But Nicole had called her over. If she was such a bother, why would Nicole go out of her way to talk to her?

She was missing something and that angered Waverly even more. It felt obvious but just out of reach. She wanted to talk to someone about it.

But Wynonna wasn’t around and… the only other person she wanted to talk to was… Nicole.

Ugh… How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what would normal even be for us?

…Us…

Gus was shaking hands with the Gray Suit when Waverly returned to Shorty’s. File folders slapped closed, keys were waved about, and polite laughter drifted through the saloon.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. MacCready,” the man said before leaving. His eyes gave a worried sweep of the bar but when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he smiled in relief. Briefcase snapping shut, Gray Suit held the case to his chest protectively as he ventured out those heavy double doors.

Waverly stalked over to Gus. “So you just did it? You just went ahead and sold it,” she said accusingly.

Her Aunt’s gaze was hard. “Decisions had to be made.” Gus flipped back through her paperwork, blue pen bouncing between index and middle fingers. “I know you don’t believe me, but you were not born to be a Goddamn small-town waitress.”

That softened Waverly some. “Yea, I believe you...” Resentment and worry still burned in the back of her mind. She latched on to her outrage. “But I have, like, three shirts that say Shorty’s.”

It didn’t come out quite as biting as Waverly had hoped.

Gus smirked back. “Honey, it’s in the agreement: Shorty’s will never get torn down. You can work here in as many shirts as you want for as long as you want.” Her dark eyes flicked over Waverly in a quick once over, a mixture of warmth and disapproval.

Waverly tried to interject. “That’s not the point!”

“Things change, kid. I never thought I’d be the one makin’ this decision, but I made it all the same.” Gus tapped the heavy file folder on the edge of the counter to evenly align the batch of papers. “It’s past time I moved on from this town. Enjoy my retirement.” Her slanted smile was sad with apology. “I got an offer on the farm, too. From a nice family from Shelby.”

Sputtering, Waverly slammed her palms on the counter. “What?! You’re—you’re leaving?! And you didn’t—why didn’t—I didn’t know!” She could feel her pulse quicken, blood pounding in her ears.

“Cuz I didn’t want you to fret, Waverly. My sister’s got a spare room since her boy went away to college. It’s time I reconnect with my old life. Just like you’re doing with Wynonna,” she said with a significant nod. “Not all change is bad, honey. It just is. And it’s up to you to make the most of it.”

Waverly flopped her head down on the counter, long hair covering her face. The wood counter was cool on her forehead as she groaned into the surface. “I can’t believe this. This is the frickin’ worst.” She looked up through her curtain of brown strands. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” Waverly said, her voice small as her breath puffed against those hairs.

Her Aunt smiled and reached over. A soft, wrinkled hand parted the hair over Waverly’s forehead so her face was visible again. Gus stroked her hair for another second before laying the file folder back on the bar (the air tickling Waverly’s cheek in its wake).

“You too, kid. But when you decide you’re ready to unstick those wings of yours…” Gus trailed off as she reached into her back pocket. Unfolding a small crisp paper, she offered it to Waverly. “…Don’t cash it for a week or so.”

Lifting her head, Waverly took the thin paper and examined it before she asked, “What’s this?”

It was a check. And there were… a lot of zeroes at the end of that check.

What. The. Frick.

Leaning over the end of the bar, Gus patted Waverly’s elbow with a smile. “It’s freedom, honey!” She gave the check a joyful flick and shook her head in amusement. “You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

It should have been touching. Wonderful. Liberating.

But instead Waverly felt… empty. Lost. Alone.

She held in her hands the answer to so many questions… except she couldn’t remember what the question was that this was an answer to. She felt a heat in her eyes.

“…which is what?” Waverly retorted despondently.

A soft, sage smile. “Live your life,” Gus said. “Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want.” She paused to give Waverly a lingering look before winking. “Who we want.”

That caught in Waverly’s throat. She could only stare back, confused.

“You’ve always been an honest kid.” Patting her elbow again, Gus leaned in drop a kiss on Waverly’s cheek. “Don’t stop now.”

Gus scooped up her file of papers and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Waverly alone at the bar holding a small fortune in her hands (and more questions than answers).

The Purgatory Reservoir stretched out before Waverly, the water’s gentle ripples reflecting a cloudy afternoon sky. With a line of snowy Jeep tracks leading to her hidden alcove, Waverly’s Spot was just as quiet as always. Sipping on her second (third?) espresso, Waverly licked her lips against the cinnamon flavoring and stared out at the horizon.

She’d gone home to change out of her Shorty’s getup, and not just for a dry pair of socks. Even in her favorite white wool sweater with a coffee in hand, Waverly still felt cold. There was nervous energy in her chest that sent little shivers through her shoulders and collarbone.

What the frick is going on today??

Everything felt so… empty. This place, Waverly’s safe place against everything crazy with Purgatory… it didn’t seem so magical. The Reservoir was just a dingy, fake lake chiseled out of rock.

The last time she’d been here, she’d brought Nicole. It had been… something. Something bigger. Now it was back to being small and lonely.

Waverly folded and unfolded that check. The same line of zeroes was still there. A small fortune wrapped up in a such a small piece of paper.

It was funny: when Wynonna had first showed up, she offered to hock Peacemaker so the Earp sisters could go abroad and leave Purgatory behind for good. Now, Waverly had the money to do that twice over.

But things were different from then in so many ways. Wynonna had embraced being the Heir. Breaking the Earp Curse didn’t seem like so lofty a pipedream, but an actual possibility. And Waverly… she was helping. All those years poured into research and history and language was finally getting put to use.

The nervous energy in Waverly’s chest dredged up an old hurt for a moment and she let it roll through her.

Wynonna. Sweet, older sister. The protective one. The strong one. …And the screw-up who’d left Waverly behind.

Waverly, who stayed. Waverly, who dedicated her life to breaking the Earp Curse. Waverly… who couldn’t break the Goddamn curse.

And Wynonna, who just waltzed back into town on raw, God-given talent and the only one who knew where Peacemaker had been hidden. It had hurt to be left out, to be the only one who took things seriously, to yet again be Not Enough as an Earp.

That stupid Revenant hadn’t been wrong: Waverly was envious—jealous—of Wynonna. And while she was proud that her sister was finally taking it all seriously finally, a small part of Waverly was still resentful. It was a slow burn of forgiveness that was rooted in long-time little sister spite. But even Waverly could admit her big sister had grown into the role and—through trial by fire and then some—was equal to the task.

So, they couldn’t just up and leave Purgatory. Not after they’d worked so hard and come together as a team. As a family.

“It’s freedom, honey!” Gus has said.

Why didn’t it feel like freedom?

Waverly could go for a Master’s degree at a decent university. Or go to Japan or the ocean or at the very least just leave Purgatory for the first time in her life. Anything she ever wanted, she could go do. Right now, if she wanted.

But… why didn’t any of those things sound good?

Slouching back into her seat with an annoyed sigh, Waverly took a deep sip of her coffee. She played with the ends of her scarf, her gaze drifting back to the passenger seat.

Nicole.

The image of the woman watching the sunrise with such awe and wonder was burned into Waverly’s memory. Her red hair tousled from sleep, bundled in Waverly’s blanket, hands politely folded around the coffee that Waverly had carefully made for her at four in the morning.

For some reason, Nicole tended to linger in Waverly’s head. For minutes, hours, days after they spent time together. They’d talked for less than a minute on the street earlier, yet Waverly still remembered the earrings she’d been wearing (round gold studs) and the smell of vanilla.

That warm flutter around Waverly’s shoulders calmed for a moment, until the voice of those two Swedish girls returned in her mind. Then a scowl darkened Waverly’s face, the agitation quickening her blood.

She resented those women’s confidence and brashness. They didn’t care what anyone thought. Just aimlessly wandered around the Northwest in an SUV without a care in the world. No plan, no nothing. They just went out and did whatever they wanted. Including…

“You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? Want to be joining us?”

They just—they just asked. They didn’t need to go to JD’s and plan out what they were gonna say. They didn’t need days of psyching themselves up to plan a stupid sunrise (probably). But there it was: envy. Envy for a whole wide world of people doing things Waverly couldn’t/wouldn’t/didn’t/hadn’t.

Waverly’s thumb wandered to her own phone, her message history with Nicole depressingly quiet.

It was a shitty thing to be resentful about, she realized. Because she was basically mad at herself for not taking action. She’d always just let things happen to her. Let Champ Hardy ask her out. Let Wynonna take charge of the Curse. Let herself be a Goddamn small-town waitress instead of—what?

“You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

“…which is what?”

“Live your life.”

Okay, Waverly thought with a long, slow breath. She tried to center herself like she did in yoga. Focused on breathing, let the outside world fade away, just her and the next breath.

What do I want? If I could want anything? Right here and now?

A bunch of thoughts trickled in. Glimpses of things she’d seen on YouTube or read about, secret passages of her diary… Swimming in the ocean or the wind on her face with the world below.

Pretty scary. But… lacking somehow now.

Maybe because… she could do those whenever she wanted? There was no urgency, no risk attached anymore. A good plan would take care of any of those little bucket-list things (now that she had the money).

Okay. What else?

“Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want. Who we want.”

Her fingers felt around in her purse and found a small piece of paper. Not the check Aunt Gus had given her. This paper was thicker, smaller, lined with creases where it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. The pad of her index finger traced the embossing and Waverly didn’t even need to open her eyes it to know what it said.

“Officer Nicole Haught, Purgatory Sheriff’s Department.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Waverly let it out slowly. That jangling feeling in her chest started again, pushing her to stop hiding and put into words this tightly coiled anxiety she’d been holding on to for so long.

That tight feeling had come so close to being free, weeks ago. On that afternoon when Waverly had run into Nicole on the street.

“I kind of just discovered it,” Waverly had said, out loud, finally. The courage to put to words had been on the tip of her tongue, a short lifetime of restrained almosts laid bare. Except it had gone horribly wrong, dismissed by a distracted Nicole. The woman had apologized later, but not before Waverly had boxed that thought back up again and put it back on the shelf. To be dealt with later.

With another shaky inhale, Waverly pulled that thought close again, hugged it to her. And when she exhaled, she finally—finally—let it go.

Waverly liked Nicole. A lot. A lot, a lot.

Not as friends.

“Friends” don’t wonder what the other one is doing all hours of the day (and night).

“Friends” don’t get goosebumps when the other touches them.

“Friends” don’t wish the other would look at her the way Nicole did, like she saw inside her (and what’s more: liked what she saw).

She wanted Nicole. Wanted her, wanted her.

She wanted to know the things that made Nicole laugh—that sweet, deep, melodic laugh.

She wanted to know what Nicole was thinking when she chewed her cheek or licked her lips that certain way.

She wanted to know what Nicole felt like. Smelled like. Tasted like.

Eyes shooting open, Waverly let out another long breath. That feeling in her chest… it loosened. Like she was lighter. Relieved, even.

Okay.

She needed talk to Nicole. Make a plan. Tell her—tell her Waverly liked her. And maybe… they could start over?

…But what if she said no?

Nicole had already gotten hurt—almost died—before. If she stuck around, Nicole could get hurt again, maybe worse. The Earp Curse was kind of a big secret to keep/problem to deal with. Maybe… maybe it’s better if Waverly didn’t say anything?

“You’ve always been an honest kid.”

She knew she was looking for an excuse to bail. She scowled at herself, at how scared she was. How close she was to chickening out already.

Oh God what if Nicole said no?

…Oh God what if Nicole said yes?

That was the real question she was afraid of. If it was a No, she could just put that thought back on its shelf. Easy. Simple. Safe. Waverly knew what that life was like (since she was basically living it right now, so no surprises there).

But a Yes… that was Big. All those exciting Firsts wrapped in all those potential mistakes. All Waverly’s Earp baggage laid bare along with all of Nicole’s. And all that terrifying Unknown made less scary knowing there was someone to share it all with.

Shifting her Jeep into reverse, Waverly made a two-point turn before heading back up the trail back to Purgatory. She downed the rest of her coffee in one big swallow, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel.

Okay. What’s the plan?

Okay. First go to the station and find Nicole. Obviously.

What if she’s not there? Do I text her? Meet her somewhere?

Waverly had to chew her cheek a moment before remembering: Nicole is on desk duty. She should be at the station.

Okay. What about anyone else?

She glanced the clock on her dashboard: 4:15 PM.

Okay. Nedley should be at Shorty’s and if Nicole is on desk, that puts Lonnie out on patrol. And no Dolls or Wynonna at BBD to bug me.

Okay. Nicole should be alone at the station. Then what?

“Live your life.”

Striding up those steps, Waverly headed straight for the Sheriff’s Department on pure instinct. Her heart was hammering in her throat. And her plan was total shit.

Waverly still hadn’t thought of something good to say other than just blurting out “I like you, Nicole” in the middle of the station. She was breathing through her nose, dangling earrings tickling Waverly’s cheeks from her fast gait. She was nervous and agitated from all that damn espresso, too. It was hard to keep a thought still in her head.

When she reached a familiar hallway, Waverly hung back just outside the station. She saw the back of an older woman at the police desk. Dolores, Judge Cryderman’s secretary, was doing some admin work. Waverly waited for the woman to leave before approaching.

Eyes skimming the station, Waverly felt an equal mixture of relief and anxiety to see the place was empty. Just like she’d hoped/dreaded.

Nicole Haught sat at the desk, pen scratching over a form. Her brow was knit in focus.

“Hey, Nedley out for dinner?” Waverly asked in a rush, barely able to make eye contact.

Head jerking up, Nicole’s eyes crinkled when she saw Waverly. The woman tilted her head with a deadpan reply. “You mean ‘happy hour at Shorty’s?’”

Waverly mumbled a “yea” as she looked over at Nedley’s blessedly empty office.

Perfect.

Nicole gave a small nod as she sat back in her chair, dropping the pen on her form. “Same time every day, kinda like clockwork. Do you need h—?”

That nod was all Waverly needed. She pushed through the wooden divider, past Nicole and into the Sheriff’s office. Setting her purse down on the desk, Waverly gave the office a fraction of a second once-over before heading for the window blinds that looked out into the bullpen.

“Hey! Wave!”

Nicole’s confused shout behind Waverly made her move faster. She tugged on the cords in rapid succession, the wooden slats angling closed on one, then another, then the third window. Standing in the doorway was a very confused Nicole, who again offered a soft “Hey?”

Nudging the taller woman aside, Waverly offered a gruff “excuse me” as she edged the door closed with a gentle slam. She looked out the office door one last time, but there was no one around.

Oh God.

When Waverly turned, Nicole snapped, “What is your problem?? I don’t understand why you—!“

That almost—almost—stopped Waverly. But she had already pushed forward, letting instinct and her pounding heartbeat lead. She was too close to stop now. She had to know.

Waverly had done the only thing that came to mind: she lunged forward and just kissed Nicole. She was just so tall. And when Waverly felt some resistance, she almost let go (but she had too much momentum propelling her forward).

But then… Nicole’s hands clamped down over hers. And not to push Waverly’s hands away, either. They held tight to Waverly’s wrists, one near Nicole’s neck and the other on her waist. Nicole held on, but the balance had already been upset and they were falling backward.

Luckily, Nicole somehow had the ability to maneuver them around the corner to the couch. And there… it continued for a moment. Held fast. Just like Waverly had hoped and feared and everything in between as they kissed.

Oh God, she was so soft and sweet yet firm and strong and—oh! Nicole tasted every bit as good as she smelled. Her head tilted in just the right ways, pushing and pulling against Waverly’s tongue with a gasp. When Waverly felt Nicole pull back from underneath her(!), she finally broke contact. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but from happiness this time.

“It’s freedom, honey!”

While the last thing Waverly had seen before she shut her eyes tight was irritation on Nicole’s face, now that woman beamed back at Waverly with impossible joy. The light from the outside window shone almost like a halo on Nicole’s head.

All Waverly saw now were dimples and glowing skin and warm brown eyes and Nicole was just beautiful and Waverly’s voice caught in her throat.

Laughing lightly, Nicole’s question was laced with breathless amusement:

“What happened to ‘friends?’”

#wynonna earp #waverly earp #nicole haught #wayhaught #fanfic #wynonna earp fanfic #fluff #gap filler #dorks in love #canon adjacent #1x09 #just friends #gus maccready #shorty's #mutual pining #first kiss #not just friends anymore

20 notes · View notes

sake-and-whiskey · 7 years

Text

Siren’s Gold

Author Notes: Here it is Y’all, Chapter 1 of the Pirate AU fic. I hope you all enjoy it! I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or shoot me a message! Read it on AO3 here Rated:M Ship: Pirate McCree/MerHanzo

“ALL CREW TO YER POSTS! ENEMY FLAGS ON THE HORIZON!”

The scramble that followed those words was one of utter chaos. Men darting everywhere, hoisting ropes and rolling out canons, filling them with gunpowder and giant iron balls. The air was filled with yelling and swearing in nearly every language, every man fulfilling a purpose and telling all those around him to be quick about it. The ocean churned roughly, sending people sliding across the slicked deck, but it mattered not to the well adjusted crew, working around every tip and pitch of the ship. They were all sailors of blood, and knew the seas better than they knew land. Which also meant they knew the danger of having an enemy sailing directly at them, and knew very well that these few minutes of preparation would decide if they lived or died.

Storming across the main deck, the first mate was screaming orders, quick to give commands and instructions. Her long dark hair in beaded locks billowed out in the angry wind, voice carrying to all those over the din of their preparation. “Make sure that’s tied down properly! All canons locked in and ready to fire! Get that flag up and flying, I want those bastards knowing exactly who it is they’re dealing with. Someone get the captain out here, now! Ready the main sails full wind towards the horizon!”

Her coat whipped behind her, tanned skin lit up in the orange glow of the setting sun. Fareeha Amari was a seasoned first mate, and knew the life of a Pirate better than most. Her mother had been a Captain, and she had sailed the seas her entire life. The dark tattoo she donned beneath her eye was a symbol of that proud lineage, and declared her a descendant of the legendary Captain Amari. She had once been a mere sailor, but now as a first mate, she took her role very seriously, and understood the power and importance of her command. Lives hung in the echoes of her words, and she did not intend to fail them. “Keep it together, you mangy animals! We will not die tonight! AND WHERE IS THE CAPTAIN?!”

She was answered with the slamming of doors, and all heads turned to the Quarter Deck. There he stood, coat flying behind him as he grabbed hold of the railing, eyeing up his crew. Captain Jesse McCree, glaring towards the horizon line, tall and poised for battle. His face was rough and warn, a shaggy beard covering his chin and a hefty cigar smoldering between his lips. He was a man soldiers feared and respected, one who had cheated death many times and lived to tell the tale. He was a legend in his own regard, the brash captain who had once been a Navy soldier under the legendary Captain Amari herself, but abandoned the crown in search of revenge and glory. The man with the eyepatch and the mechanical arm, whom rumor said could see into your very soul, that had coined him the name ‘DeadEye’ so many years ago. All knew the legends of DeadEye the Pirate, of how he only robbed those who deserved it and could kill six men in the blink of an eye. His crew was proud to serve him, the man who had earned them countless riches and uncountable adventures, and were ready to fight to the death along side him.

“Well now,” he began, pulling his cigar from his lips to call out to the crew who paused only a moment to hear him speak. “Let’s be prepared to slaughter anyone who dares step foot on this deck, shall we lads?”

The crew erupted in cheers, confidence flooding through them as they went back to their mad scramble. McCree stepped up to the helm, fingers clasped around it tightly as he steered the ship towards the coming enemy ship. Fareeha slid up beside him, arms folded as she surveyed the final preparations. “It’s him,” She said in a low voice. “The lookout gave the call; black flag with the cow skull in a circle of red; that is the Blackwatch flag. That’s certainly him, is it not?” “Reckon it must be,” McCree answered, puffing on his cigar. Fareeha looked him over, face lit in the setting sun. She could see the pain there the other crew could not. Then again, she knew Jesse better than anyone else did. The two had known each other since they were children, when Jesse had been deposited into her mother’s custody. Deposited by him. “You haven’t seen him since the last skirmish we had back in the Caspian, correct?” She asked, words cautious and testing. “He tried to kill us, tried to sink Deadlock.” “Aye,” He answered gruffly. “The bastard hasn’t dared shown his face since then.” “He was different. We did not talk about it then, but I feel we should now. I worry this battle won’t be as easy as the last.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about Fareeha,” he snapped, shooting her a look with his good eye.

The woman glared at him, words spit like venom. “You KNOW that is not the case. You have heard the rumors, I have, we all have! That Captain Gabriel Reyes of the Royal Navy was HANGED for TREASON, for BETRAYING THE CROWN.” She whispered roughly, eyes narrowed. “And that happened after we fought him last, McCree. So tell me how a dead man can be sailing towards us now? How he can his ship be here if he was hung by the Ccrown? You know-”

“I ain’t know SHIT, Fareeha,” he snapped back, turning to look at her. “All I know is that there be his ship, and if that bastard ain’t dead, then I’m gonna be the one to kill him myself.”

Their conversation was cut off by a call from the look out; The enemy was coming in fast, within range. Fareeha growled in annoyance, growing into a full blown roar, as she stormed away, down onto the main deck. “ALL CREW TO YOUR POSTS! Every man be ready to fire as soon as they come close enough, on the captain’s word, and don’t let those bastards board! If they do, have those swords ready and be prepared to fight to the death! We fight against treacherous cowards on this night, and the Sea Gods will smile on us for painting the deck with their blood! Now all crew, to your posts, on the Captain’s command!” There was a raw silence that cannot be described as the crew fell into place, waiting with anticipation for the captain’s word. The enemy ship came closer into view, black on the horizon as the sun slipped further beneath the sea, the sky beginning to fade to the inky black of the night. Every breath was hitched as the black flag that flew from the mast came into view, the white Cow skull wreathed in red flying in the wind. The Blackwatch. All men waited, muscles burning and adrenaline pumping, as the ship came closer into view, lit in the pale light of the moon. Until finally, McCree’s roar tore through the silence, ripping it to shreds, filling the hearts of every man with the will to fight, to live, or to die trying. “FIRE!”

Cannons exploded in an instant, reverberating through the hull of the ship and shaking the waves beneath them. The sound was loud and hollow, cracking the ears of the sailors that clutched the guns in their place as they scrambled to reload and refill the powder. A few hit their mark, bursting through the hull of the enemy ship with the sound of splintering wood magnified by a thousand. Their cannon fire was met with it’s own encore, enemy fire hurtling through the air. One tore through the front most gun, sending shock waves through the ship that took men off their feet.

Fareeha grunted, grabbing hold of the main mast to steady herself. McCree growled in frustration, feeling a pain in his side that only a captain can feel when their ship is damaged. He whirled the helm away, trying to encircle the ship and go at it from a different way, but the enemy was smarter, faster. They had sacrificed the ability to shoot first and gain the most physical blows on the hull for the opportunity to focus on speed, on getting in close. Cannon fire continued to resound, but the enemy ship only slid closer, too close for comfort. Fareeha was screaming orders, and their guns continued to blast, tearing into the enemy ship, but it seemed as though it did nothing. No matter how many of their cannonballs ate into the enemy hull, the ship remained standing, drawing ever closer, shooting their own guns into the Deadlock all the while.

“Captain! We’re takin’ on water down here, sir!” A crew member called as they clambered from below deck, and McCree could feel it with the slow pitch of the main bow.

He drew his gun, abandoning the helm as the ship slotted up beside the Deadlock, thundering down the steps onto the main deck. “BOARD THE ENEMY SHIP!” He screamed, and the crew didn’t have to be told twice, dropping ropes and grabbing at their weapons. “Don’t let them get away with this, kill every one of those bastards! And if you can, bring me the Captain ALIVE!” Fareeha was the first one to lead the charge, grabbing hold of a rope and swinging the gap onto the enemy deck, sword drawn and at the ready. Crew members followed her without hesitation, dropping onto the Blackwatch deck with screams of war.

But just as his crew began bridging the gap, so did the crew of the BlackWatch. They swung across and dropped to his deck, swords and guns drawn and ready. Jesse’s face twistedin confusion when he saw them, these crew members dressed in all black with red paint smeared across their faces. These were no ordinary sailors; they were Talon mercenaries, ocean thugs and vigilantes whose loyalty could be bought buy the highest bidder. Had they stolen the BlackWatch? That was suddenly a very real possibility. If not, What in gods name would Reyes be doing with Talon? He had always detested them, hated how they had no real loyalty. But, then again, neither did Reyes, Jesse grimaced.

His thoughts were cut short when a group of them turned his way, and he pulled his gun just in time. ‘BANGBANGBANG’ and they all hit the deck, one after another. Jesse jumped over them, drawing his sword in his mechanical left arm, wielding his glittering pistol in his right. Had there been anyone there to simply observe the battle, they would have been awestruck by the pirate captain. He tore through the ranks of the Talon soldiers, hacking with his sword and finishing with his pistol like it was a fluid dance. McCree ducked in and out of his own crew and the enemy easily, making good headway, spurned on by the pounding of his heart and the rush of battle. He was a warrior at his core, a soldier trained by the seas, and he had fought countless times. The men of Talon were no match for him.

He had cleared a group of them, bodies stacked around him, and noticed their numbers dwindling, a few even roping back over to the BlackWatch. McCree grinned darkly, ready to call out a victory cry, when a hollow ‘CLICK’ echoed beside his ear. He didn’t move; He knew that sound, and felt with it the cold of the barrel of a gun. He couldn’t see who held it, but he didn’t have to. Jesse felt the air grow cold and quiet, the sounds of the battle dying down as he watched his crew members freeze up, eyes wide in fear and horror as they watched their captain stand still with a gun pressed to his head, though their eyes were on the man who held the gun. Jesse scowled as he watched them become overtaken by the Talon men, shoved to their knees, guns to their heads and knives at their throats. He could see others being thrown overboard into the dark water, or being dragged back onto the Deadlock from the BlackWatch. Somewhere behind him, he heard Fareeha struggling as she was pulled back on board, cursing and screaming, a lone voice in the quiet.

“Get your hands off me you motherfuckers, there will be justice here, I will be sure of that! I will kill you all where you stand, I will….” But her voice faded out, replaced by a gasp of horror. When she spoke again, the rage in her voice was gone, now only a quiet whisper of fear. “What in gods name…. Gabriel…?” It was then he heard the laugh. A laugh that sounded cold and wet, reverberating and rough like spoken sand paper, that chilled McCree to his bones. It made his blood run cold, a laugh like the devil himself, followed by a voice to match. “Did you miss me, Ingrate? It’s been a long time.”

Jesse didn’t have to see his face to hear the smile that was playing on his lips. His voice was warbled and evil, but without a doubt it was the same voice he used to know so well. His skin crawled when he heard it, hair prickling on the back of his neck. He heard heavy footfalls, felt the tip of the gun slide across the back of his head, until finally, the figure stood before him.

Jesse McCree was not a religious man by any means, but he had spent too long living on the seas to not believe in magic, and know that there were too many secrets beneath the waves to ever know. What stood before him now only cemented that the Devil was one of those secrets, and that he stood before him now. The man before him had skin that was shriveled and pale with death, wet and glossy like that of a body left to the waves too long. His eyes were pure black, empty voids that bore into Jesse’s soul. His mouth was turned up into more than a smile, a snarl of teeth that looked like they had all come from different masters, sharp and yellow. The top of his head was covered in a hat that was dripping with sea water and mosses, lichens hanging down onto his shoulders. Open wounds littered his face, and worked their way down his neck until his flesh disappeared into a black coat. Smoke poured out from behind him, and the base of his coat flowed and licked like the tendrils of an octopus. The hand that held the gun before Jesse’s eyes was as pale and shriveled as his face, but his fingernails were long and curved like claws, sickly black in color. Smoke poured from between the gaps in his teeth, filtering into the night air.

He was no man. He was a monster.

McCree couldn’t hide his revulsion, but the rage within him bubbled up over the fear. “Been a long time, huh? I don’t think we’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

The creature laughed, shaking his head. “Oh my son, don’t you recognize your old friend? You always were such a rude boy.”

“Y’ain’t no friend of mine,” Jesse spat. “I don’t make a habit of makin’ friends with the devil. ‘Specially not one parading around in the skin of a man that betrayed me.”

The monster scoffed, shaking his head. “You always were so selfish, mijo. But that’s alright. I haven’t come to talk. I’ve come for justice.”

Behind him, he heard Fareeha find her voice. “Justice?! What do you know of Justice?! You betrayed us all! You betrayed my mother and our family, you bastard! We loved you and trusted you! We-”

McCree heard a solid sounds and a sharp cough, no doubt as a Talon Agent kicked her in the stomach, and he started to whirl around, but was answered with the sharp click of the monster pulling back the hammer on his gun. He glared, anger burning in his chest as he stared down the devil, the reaper that held a gun between his eyes. He wasn’t one to be a captive, but he had been in many a stand off. He knew how to hold his ground.

“As I was saying,” the Reaper growled. “I have come for justice. Against every one that was a part of that hideously laughable excuse of a ‘family.’” The monster took a step closer, and Jesse took a step back. The beast cackled again, shaking it’s head. “You don’t understand Mijo. I’m going to make you all suffer the way you made me suffer. I will make your worst fears a reality. I will not rest until every last sailor on the seas fears me and knows my glory. And what better way to start that than by making an example out of the mighty DeadEye? You always were my favorite, so it seems poetic. But I won’t kill you; no, you would like that too much. It would be too easy.

“Instead,” He growled, taking another step towards McCree. “I’m going to take everything you love from you, and you’re going to watch me do it. I’m going to strip you of everything you have worked for, and then leave you to rot the way you left me. And I am going to love every moment of it. Starting now.”

Without warning, he pulled the gun away from Jesse’s head and pointed it to his side, firing. The scream that broke the night air was murderous, a blood curdling scream of agony, and Jesse felt his heart stop in his throat. He whirled around to see Fareeha crumpled on her side, clutching at her chest as thick dark blood pooled around her, the moon reflecting off its black glassy surface. His ears were ringing and time stopped. He couldn’t breathe, wind punched out of him, and if he screamed, he didn’t register it. He took a step towards her before suddenly there were hands around his neck, cold and sharp, digging into his throat.

He tried to turn, to fight, to run, but the Reaper was holding him by his throat, grinning maddeningly. The beast pulled Jesse’s face close against his, close enough for him to breath in the smell of rotting meat and salt on his breath, the see the tiny specks of red in the center of his eyes. “I’ll come for you again, Jesse McCree. I will come for you every time, and I will find you no matter how much you run. And I will take everything you love from you. And you will have to live with that and suffer how I have suffered. Consider this your chance at a head start.”

Before he could fight back, the Reaper hurtled him over the edge of the ship, laughing that same terrible laugh. He fell through the air, tumbling over himself, mind a whirling mess of emotion and pain. He thought he could hear Fareeha scream, maybe his name, he couldn’t be sure. But he did hear the Reaper’s voice, cackling and growling out “DIE! DIE! DIE!” accompanied by gunshots and screams, until finally he hit the water.

His breath was knocked out of him again, the contact hitting like a gunshot. His body tumbled beneath the waves, caught in the swell of the ocean, and he clawed his way up to the surface instinctually. Fear bubbled in his chest, the fear all sailors have of the black water of the ocean, merciless and unforgiving. He sucked in stomachs full of ocean water as he struggled, weighed down by his heavy clothing, metal arm not assisting in his efforts to swim. When he finally broke the surface, air burned his lungs worse than the salt water did, his lungs fighting to breathe.

Jesse treaded water for a few moments, thrashing about, trying to regain his senses, when he saw it; before him, standing like a beacon in the night sky, his ship glowed brightly, consumed by fire. He swam towards it frantically, but the waves pulled him away, further and further from the wreckage of his ship. It crumbled in around itself, flames swallowing it up as the fire blazed on. His flag, the skull with the crossed out eye, was eaten away into nothingness, the mast giving a mighty earsplitting creak as it fell into the sea. The entire thing fell around itself, ripping apart from itself as it began to slowly sink into the inky waves, Jesse’s heart sinking along with it. He watched, broken and helpless, as the name on the back, “DEADLOCK”, sunk into the ocean, disappearing forever, his crew and only friend along with it.

He tread water for god only knows how long, calling out to his crew, to Fareeha, to Gabriel, to God, to anyone that would hear him. No response came. He was only answered by the sounds of the sea, the howling of the wind, and the echo of his own voice off of the water. How long he stayed like that, he didn’t know. At some point, he gave up on anyone replying, simply kicking and holding onto life as best he could. But it never came. Instead, exhaustion set in, eating at his nerves slowly yet surely until he could no longer kick, could no longer put forth the energy to remain afloat. What did it matter? The only family he had left had been robbed from him, along with the crew he’d come to trust, the ship he had come to captain, and all the treasure he had amassed within it. All his life achievements, his life spent working to better himself, had been for nothing. Everything that made him who he was was now gone, swept away by a monster he had once loved and the ocean itself. Jesse McCree was resigned to Death, and welcomed the exhaustion as it threatened his vision and lulled his eyes closed, and consumed his consciousness until only the blackness remained.

He did not see the shapes beneath the surface of the water that cut through the ocean waves. He was already taken by exhaustion and unconsciousness, unable to see how they circled around him deep beneath the water. How they quarreled with one another, pushing each other out of the way to get a better look at the man floating in the waves, and how his jewelry glittered in the moonlight. Nor did he see the pair of hands that eventually took hold of him, strong and powerful hands that shoved all the others out of the way to claim their prize and drag him down, down beneath the surface.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he awoke, all he could taste was salt and blood.

Jesse coughed hard, curling on his side as sea water poured from his lips, gagging hard as he struggled for air. His body burned and ached all over as he sucked in breaths, mind shaking and numb as it struggled to come to its senses. All he could register was the cold and the pain, until slowly the ringing in his ears faded as his lungs began to work again. He laid there on his side, struggling to piece thoughts together as his body struggled to work like normal once more.

What had happened? He fought to remember, mind rattling itself before suddenly it all came back to him all at once. Far too much. Sensory overload. The enemy ship, the battle, the Reaper, Fareeha, the DeadLock sinking into the waves. His breath caught in his throat as the agony, the sorrow, returned. He wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow that of himself; he didn’t deserve to cry, he had no right. McCree curled in around himself, eyes closed tight as he whispered a prayer, quiet and shaky, for Fareeha. He hoped and prayed that somehow she had survived, but part of him quietly knew there was no way. Instead he laid there, letting his emotions tear through him, giving himself time to mourn and hurt. Wherever he was now, be it Heaven or Hell, he could wait a little longer. He needed time.

And time he took, laying out on the cold ground of wherever he was, until his senses slowly returned to him, emotions subsiding slowly with steady pangs of pain. He could feel the cold roughness of the ground on which he lay, and hear drips echo around him every few seconds. Slowly, he cracked his good eye open, taking in what he could of his surroundings. All he was able to see was rock:, dimly lit, rocky walls. He cocked his head, lifting his upper body to take in more of his surroundings.

His muscles screamed in protest but he ignored them, continuing to sit up until he was on his knees. He was in what appeared to be some kind of cave, a few thin beams of light streaming through cracks in the ceiling. The dripping sounds were the stalactites dropping water from the roof of the cave above into what appeared to be a lagoon of water. As he looked about, he saw he was on a rocky outcropping at the center of the lagoon, completely surrounded by ocean water that was a gentle blue-green. Despite the small amount of light breaking through the ceiling of the cave, the entire room glowed a gentle gold color.

The pirate rose to his feet wearily, a laborious task- his long coat and clothes still soaked. He must not be dead, he reasoned (with a fair amount of disappointment), and did an inventory check. He still had his Peacekeeper, but his hat was missing, hair wet and plastered down to his face. His jewelry, the heavy gold rings he had a habit of wearing on each finger of both hands, were gone as well. In addition, his belt and the heavy gold belt buckle he wore with it were gone too. Taken by the sea, he reasoned, before it registered to him there was no way the ocean waves could have gotten all his rings off each finger. Perplexed, he ventured to the edge of the rock on which he stood to get a better view of his surroundings, and nearly fell into the water at what he saw.

The entire sea floor of the cave was coated in gold; gold coins, gold statues, chests overflowing with jewelry, goblets and gems that shined through the crystal clear water. McCree could make out suits of armor, statues, crowns, all growing lichens and barnacles, but still shining brightly beneath the waves. It was almost too much for the pirate to take in; in all his years and all his adventures, Captain McCree had never seen this much gold in one place. Surely he was dead and this was heaven, for there was no way this could be real. His pain was forgotten, lost to the wonder that lit up his senses like that of a child. He had half a mind to pull of his boots and dive in the water, until a splash from behind him put him on full alert.

He spun around in an instant, drawing Peacekeeper and firing without a second thought. But the weapon only gave a resounding thud as the hammer fell on wet gunpowder. Jesse was glad it had. For before him, peeking out from the water, he could see two dark glowing eyes staring directly at him. A pool of long dark hair flowed around them, hindering his view of what was beneath it, but he didn’t have to see to know. Finned ears poked out from the inky locks, and the eyes bobbed up and down in the water but never wavered from his face. Jesse’s heart stopped in his chest. Yes, he knew what those eyes meant. He’d been a sailor long enough to know eyes like that; eyes with slits for pupils that glowed like the moon.

Sirens.

#pirate au #sirens gold #mchanzo #pirate mccree #mermaid hanzo #mer hanzo #mer hanzo pirate jesse #samatura #samatura writes #sake and whiskey

469 notes · View notes