#BBD fic

[vanosslirious]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Banana Bus Squad, Video Blogging RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan Fong/Jonathan | H2ODelirious, Brock Barrus/Brian Hanby, Brian Hanby/Original Male Character(s), John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y Characters: SMii7Y (Video Blogging RPF), John | KryozGaming, Evan Fong, Jonathan | H2ODelirious, Brock Barrus, Brian Hanby, Daithi De Nogla, Anthony | BigJigglyPanda, Luke Patterson (Video Blogging RPF), Lui Calibre, Tyler | I AM WILDCAT, Arlan | SilentDroidd, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sequel, Gangs, Friendship, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Canon-Typical Violence, Swearing, Guns, Blood, Fights, Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Murder, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Betrayal, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Chapter Length Varies, Fluff, Alcohol, Smoking, Drugs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Wordcount: Over 1.000 Series: Part 3 of These Crooked Ends Summary:

SMii7y and Kryoz are given a new mission to hunt down a loose end, but the organizations around them are tangled up, and things don't go the way they had hoped, when all they really wanted was a vacation...

sequel to The Rogue & The Traitor.

[kitsunefire7]

Happy REVERSE BBD

I❤️ that I got to draw whatever I wanted n 1 of our writers chose my piece to write a fic!

writer: @avariantflaire

beta: @kirihasabigduck

😚❤️👏🏻

Fic is called: Afloat in a Body of Sun and Spice

[seokminkisser]

I don’t know if you write nsfw content but as a new follower if you’re comfortable, I would loveeeee a seokmin drabble of reader riding his abs and he has a heavy praise kink.

If you DONT write nsfw:

A seokmin drabble of him kissing on literally reader’s whole body because reader said they felt insecure today

- Sunny, one seokmin stan to another ❤️

WITH YOU BY MY SIDE.

pairing: l. seokmin x afab!reader

genre: fluff, comfort, a bit angsty

word count: 1.6k

warnings: reader wears a dress but no gendered terms are used! reader has body dysmorphia and is very insecure about it

a/n: thank u so much for ur request sunny! i wrote this on the train lol it’s kind of messy and not proofread 😁 i do write nsfw and decided to make the first part of your req a separate fic!!

there was no way you were leaving the house tonight—absolutely no way.

you had changed about seven times already and the tears had already begun to pool in your eyes. you lay down on your bed rolling yourself into a little ball and taking deep breaths as you let out a scream muffled by your pillow.

no matter how many outfit combinations you had tried, nothing seemed to work. everything you owned felt ill-fitting on your body, they made your shoulders look big or showed off your stomach or your thighs chafed together in a bruising manner. and to top it all off you had a terrible stomach ache.

the screen of your phone lit up with an incoming notification. for some reason, your boyfriend hated ringing the doorbell and preferred to send you a text whenever he stood outside your door. if lee seokmin wasn’t your favorite person on this planet you would have pretended not to be home and wallowed in your self-pity like you tended to do whenever you had a bbd — a bad body day.

dragging yourself up from your bed you walked to the door and opened it to a grinning seokmin. and seeing your boyfriend smile at you with eyes that shone as if he was staring at the person who held all the answers to the world, the tears you had suppressed flooded into your eyes, and before you knew it you were sobbing.

immediately, worry took up every fiber in seokmin’s body and he felt his own tears pooling in his eyes, seeing you cry always brought him to tears. “my baby, what’s wrong,” he says as his arms wrap themselves around your frame. burying his face into your hair, his hands run up and down your back in a soothing manner as you let your tears stain his white shirt.

“i don’t wanna go out tonight.” you reply, your voice muffled as you pressed your face even closer to his chest. seokmin pulled himself off you and wiped your tears carefully, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. a frown settled on his face as he looked at you, before pressing more chaste kisses all over your face. 

“what happened baby, do you want to talk about it?” he responds, taking your hand and leading you to your bed in the corner of your small studio apartment. he sat down and pulled you on top of him, before softly holding the side of your face and pressing it into the side of his neck.

for a while you just sat there, breathing in his scent and calming yourself down. seokmin remained quiet but his hands roamed freely, one hand running up and down your back as the other softly caressed your thigh. 

at that moment all that existed was you and seokmin, your worries seemed miles away as the touch of your boyfriend grounded you. he didn’t pressure you to answer him, instead he just held you. after taking another deep breath you slowly pulled away from the spot your head has been resting in and looked up at him.

seokmin gave you a soft smile as he pressed another kiss on your cheek and wiped away the rest of your tears. your eyes drifted down to the massive tear stain on his shirt and you felt like crying all over again. you even managed to ruin your beautiful boyfriend.

“i ruined your shirt minnie, i’m so sorry.” you hiccup and hid your face in your hands, you couldn’t even look at him. “no no no, y/n my love it’s alright it’s just a shirt,” he responds, hands tenderly wrapping around your wrists as he pulls your hands away from their position on your face.

your lower lip quivers as you look at seokmin pulling your hands to his face and pressing soft kisses on your knuckles and your palms. “do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he says as he tightly clasps your hands in his. “but you don’t have to.” 

you shake your head and then nod your head, pulling one hand away from his hold as you wipe your remaining tears. “no it’s okay i will tell you, but it’s so stupid and nonsensical.” you sigh and fidget with the promise ring on your finger.

“your feelings are never stupid or nonsensical, y/n.” he answered. you nod again and take a deep breath before answering: “i have nothing to wear for tonight.” you say and you felt like crying all over again. you felt utterly pathetic.

you had an angel as your boyfriend who has never shown you anything other than love and adoration, and yet you still let your insecurities run your life. “all the clothes i have tried on for the party tonight feel too tight and i feel disgusted with myself and so insecure, but i don’t even know why i feel so insecure. i don’t even understand why i am telling you this it’s so pathetic, you shouldn’t even have to bother with this, with me– ”

“you are absolutely not pathetic. never in a million years will you ever be pathetic for voicing your insecurities. i am so grateful that you feel safe enough to share your negative feelings with me. you will never ever be a bother to me, baby, truly never.” he responds and wraps his arms around your waist before turning you both on the bed, you on your back and him laying on his side his eyes never leaving yours.

“is this the dress you don’t feel comfortable in?” he asks as his hands run up and down your arm. you nod softly and he coos, kissing your temple as his hand comes to the zipper. “let’s get this of you then, hmm?”

his fingers slowly unzip your dress as he sits up on the bed, pulling the dress off of you. the room is silent other than your unsteady breathing and his soft murmurs of how beautiful you were, how lucky he was, how he felt like he must have been the most amazing person in his past life to be gifted with you.

you felt like crying again as seokmin folds your dress gently and sets it down on your dresser before coming back to your unmoving figure. he takes your hands into his and presses gentle kisses on your knuckles and your wrists and the tears pooled in your eyes again but you pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth hoping that that motion would keep your tears at bay. 

“i love you, and i want to make it my life’s goal to show you that every day for the rest of our lives.” seokmin sighs and leaves a trail of soft kisses up your arm until he reaches your shoulder. he presses one kiss, then a second, then a third, kissing up your neck until he reaches your face. “you are so incredibly beautiful to me, y/n. and i will never hesitate to remind you of that.” 

and like the absolute crybaby you were, the tears started falling once again. you feel seokmin’s soft smile as he presses kisses on your right cheek, then your left, before he starts peppering gentle kisses all over your face.

“i–” he places a kiss on your forehead, “love–”, another kiss on your cheek, “every single–”, a kiss on the tip of your nose, “part of you.” he ends his onslaught of kisses with a press of his lips on yours before slowly making his way down your body, with never-ending kisses. 

“i love this part of you the most.” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the skin over your beating heart and you feel so full of love in this moment that you don’t even have the strength to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. “but i love every part of you, and i hope you can love yourself the way i love you.” 

you nod softly, running a hand through his hair as you blink away your tears. his eyes flutter shut as he feels your nails softly rake through his hair, breathily pressing kisses on your ribcages as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your middle.

it feels as if you and seokmin had become one being, connected through the love that you shared for each other and the adoration seokmin held for you and every part of your body. 

as time passes, his kisses move downwards until he ends up at your ankle pressing final kisses on each one. seokmin sits up on the balls of his feet and gives you a grin before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

your tears had subsided a while ago and the love you had felt seeped into every fiber of your body replacing the ugly feelings of your insecurities. you kiss him back hoping and praying that he could tell that you loved him more than words could explain. 

“i think we are going to be late for soonyoung’s get together minnie,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips as you push your boyfriend off of you and reach for your discarded dress on the bedside table.

“we don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it y/n, i’m sure soonyoung will understand.” seokmin says, watching you with careful eyes as you start getting ready.

“with you by my side i think i can do anything.”

[dnd-writes]

Boulevard of broken dreams part 2 when?

I really like the concept of that smut of yours especially that one

I've been waiting for natty future or maybe more about haneul too

Uh well you see, I have some of it written but then new ideas come to mind and I write those ideas leaving the older ones sitting and collecting dust, which is exactly the case rn! But don't be disuaded yet cause a fic I'm currently working on is kinda in the realm of bbd, in the sense that it's as 'heavy' as bbd.

But yeah, bbd 2 will take a while. I am working on it occassionally though (their latest cb definitely helps fuel the writing)

[thistlefur]

Whatre all these characters from? :0c are the from like a fic or an rp or just some ocs from a universe you’re developing??

bound by devotion in particular is a warrior cats themed adaptation of my main human oc stpry “forgive the lonely” …. the publicly known lore for both is pretty sparing and changes often but BBD has the most i guess Content thats available for yall to see :3 im not sure if i’ll ever write it as one concrete story due to the fact it’s still linked to my main oc stuff which i change often so i think its more of just a sandbox with a title lol

the basic premise is set in a mountainside forest. there’s 4 clans (valleyclan in the. well. valley, hootclan in the woods, leveeclan across the mountain and by a river; partially integrated into a twoleg town, and quarryclan by an old mineshaft) and 2 other colonies (a large unorganized colony of farmcats, and rogues in the town).

the story primarily follows snowhare of valleyclan and the abuse his longtime friend summerstorm puts him through, sabotaging snowhare’s closest relationships (his mate eveningsong, their kits together, other friends, snow’s siblings, etc) both directly and indirectly as summerstorm tries to isolate him and make snowhare dependent on him and finally fall in love with him in return. things dont go summerstorm’s way, though, so he starts resorting to extreme violence and secret betrayals to gain control over both valleyclan and his object of affection. snowhare is losing his grip on reality and struggles with paranoid psychosis due to the amount of gaslighting and emotional abuse he’s put through

there’s a theme about cycles of abuse throughout this story - valleyclan’s had a history of enabling domestic abuse by turning the other cheek, especially within snowhare’s family line (he’d been victimized a lot growing up, especially by his parents and brothers). summerstorm also came from an abusive family in leveeclan, his father and his own brothers perpetrating it before he finally ran away after his mother’s death. summerstorm continues the cycle onto snowhare, and even his ex mate rosewood, their daughter jaybird, and a few others in his life. but the environment that they live in treats it as normal at worst and something not worth making a scene over at best. snowhare isn’t innocent either, as he’s projected onto his kids a handful of times himself. he just knows how to apologize, unlike a few cats in his clan.

that doesn’t mean those cats are evil and irredeemable, though, as there’s a lot of gray areas just like in real life. theyve done bad things but many have learned from their mistakes and even made peace or gotten closure with the cats they hurt, even if they’re never friends again. summerstorm unfortunately isn’t able to redeem himself, having pushed too many boundaries, hurt too many cats, and still staunchly refusing to accept he’s in the wrong. ultimately his pride, obsession, and disregard for snowhare’s boundaries is what gradually leads to his downfall

[thewordworrier]

Some Musings

I know it’s after midnight now, but BEFORE midnight, this was my list -  ~ words done ✔ ~ evening post posted ✔ ~ hair washed ✔ ~ chapter uploaded on AO3 ✔ ~ next chapter saved in drafts ✔ ~ NaNoWriMo site updated ✔ After tomorrow’s chapter is posted, I just have three more works to upload to AO3: IACIS, BBD and CMBFTW. IACIS isn’t too bad, I know I have to put an on hiatus tag on that and a note in the summary. I should go back to that next NaNo event, ‘cause I know how it ends now and I didn’t really have a clue when I started writing/posting. Now I just wait until things are finished before I post. Ugh. I’m pretty nervous about uploading those last two, to be honest. I’m a bit nervous about a reaction, or maybe lack thereof. I poured a lot of... Everything into those fics, those two especially, and... I know it’s really common for the things you pour your everything into to get tumbleweeds, but something you whipped up on a whim in 10 minutes, gets all the attention. I know, I know, readers owe me nowt. I’m still SO proud of the feelings in BBD, and I’m still SO proud of the... Everything in CMBFTW - probably because I actually planned and plotted that one. I breathed that story for like 7 months. [8 if you include the month I took posting it - that’s a long ass time, that’s almost baby-creating time you know!] idk, it’ll take some time to get to CMBFTW - there’s 4 chapters of IACIS and 14/15 of BBD. So even if I kept updating once a day, that’s easily the rest of the month. And there’s 28 for CMBFTW when it goes up on AO3. So that’s another month. (Even though there’s 27 on here - I found a place to split one of the bigger chapters. There’s no extra content, just an extra split. I didn’t want to mess around with it on here because it was already posted and done and whatever.) Uploading that thing is gonna be a lot of work.

[babooshkart]

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

Sweeten to Taste by @bigblackdogfic for Harry/Draco Big Bang 2021 @harrydracobang​

This was my very first Big Bang, and I’m overjoyed to share the incredible fic that bbd wrote and that I was so lucky to do art for! This fic is chock full of incredible food descriptions (seriously, I was drooling) (and was inspired to do some baking of my own), deep emotional conversations, and Draco bullying Harry into investing in home decor (fucking same). My heart lives in this fic, and I’m so excited that you all get to read and love it just as much as I do!

[ebp-brain]

rosemary boxer/laura thyme. only one bed!

the traditional rosemary & thyme fic for @bigblackdogfic on her birthday (even if she’s rarely on tumblr these days!)

--

Rosemary should probably stop expecting luxurious accommodations just because she and Laura are working on the garden of a luxurious house. This latest, for instance, Morewood Manor in east Hampshire, takes her breath away when they rattle the Land Rover up its sweeping drive, and she and Laura exchange their well la di da look, the one they save for the most ostentatiously expensive homes—three parts cynical amusement at the way some people live, one part genuine awe, and one part a kind of mental rubbing their hands together at the thought of the cream teas and feather pillows they will hopefully get as perks while they’re there. But they should really know better by now. It’s true that the house is stunning, an 18th-century Palladian building with a large portico and towering columns, and the gardens stretch up a broad slope to the back of the house, overgrown but in relatively decent shape. And their host, Charlotte, a friendly but harried woman with corkscrew curls and scuffed black pumps, is welcoming and generous. But they can see from the moment they walk in why they, with their reasonable prices and small-scale operation, were hired to spruce up the grounds rather than some posh landscaping company.

“I’m sorry, it is a bit in disrepair,” says Charlotte as they crane their necks to look up at the peeling plaster and the damp spots on the ceiling. “Oh, no, it’s more than a bit,” she amends immediately, “I know, it’s a dreadful mess. I’m selling it. The last Clifford-Smythe, my great-aunt Euphenia, finally passed away—oh, you’ll think I’m dreadfully heartless, but she was ninety-eight—and now there’s no one left who refuses to let Morewood pass out of the family, so—” She flutters her hands around at the neglected surroundings. “Well. One can’t keep up these absurd estates anymore, can one? Not without masses of help and goodness knows there are few old families in Britain who can afford that these days—and the National Trust didn’t want it, more’s the pity, so…. That’s why I want the gardens done up, at least, make it look as appealing as possible from the outside anyway and hopefully some rich American will think it’s a jolly fixer-upper. Goodness, how I babble. You’ll want to settle in first, yes?”

“That would be lovely,” Laura manages to get out before Charlotte Clifford-Smythe is off again.

“Now I have to warn you, most of the house is shut up. Absolutely uninhabitable. I can only manage to keep a few rooms in working order all on my own, and I don’t generally have visitors here, you see, since I live in my little cottage in Winchester most of the time. So, that is to say, I can put you up as promised, but there is one small issue.”

She hesitates. Rosemary and Laura exchange surreptitious glances. Rosemary knows what’s in Laura’s mind as well as if it were her own: It can’t be worse than a tiny attic room with bunk beds and party music pounding through the walls past midnight. It can’t be worse than a tent pitched on lumpy ground—which was then set fire by an arsonist.

Can it?

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage,” Rosemary says heartily. Perhaps a little too heartily, judging by the look Laura gives her.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience,” their host says apologetically as she leads them up the stairs and along a musty-smelling corridor. “It’s the one room I’ve got, other than my own, and…”

She opens the door. Rosemary braces herself for mouldy patches and water stains—or possibly a cell-like chamber where some poor Victorian wife was confined for “hysteria” on her doctor’s orders—but for at first glance she doesn’t notice anything wrong at all. It’s a pleasant room, with pale pink walls and a spectacular view of the rose garden. The late afternoon light shines through the thick paned windows, turning everything dusky gold: the antique vanity, the carved armoire, the faded carpets, the heavy four-poster bed—oh.

“There’s only one bed.” Charlotte wrings her hands a bit. “I did think maybe I could put one of you in the Blue Room, since it’s only been shut up for a couple of decades—it used to be quite grand—but as it happened a whole colony of moths had taken up residence in the mattress, and—”

“No, no,” Rosemary says hastily, feeling that she’d better interrupt while she has the chance. “This is lovely.”

“Really?” Charlotte turns worried eyes on them both.

“Oh, goodness, yes,” Laura says genially. Rosemary can see her biting back a smile and has to look away to stop herself smiling back. “We’re easy, really. As long as no one tries to shoot at us in the night—”

“Heavens, of course not!” Charlotte says, looking scandalized.

“Only a joke,” Rosemary quickly cuts in. “Really, this is more than all right.”

“Well,” says Charlotte, “if you say so. Now, why don’t I leave you two to get settled in and we can have a tour of the gardens before supper? It’s only rabbit stew, but—”

“Perfect,” says Rosemary firmly. “We’ll see you soon, then.”

Charlotte closes the door, finally, and Rosemary and Laura look at each other, grinning.

“Well,” says Laura, sitting on the bed. “This is a pickle, isn’t it? Only one bed. Whatever shall we do?”

“Yes, I will miss the twin beds we manage to get stuck with everywhere else. They’re so…chaste.”

“Mm,” says Laura. “I don’t know how I’ll cope. I’ve gotten used to feeling like I did when I visited my mum two weeks before my wedding and she made me and Nick sleep in separate rooms.”

“Your mum was very wise,” Rosemary said. “It’s dangerous, sleeping in the same bed with you. You’re a dreadful temptation, you know.”

“Are you threatening my virtue?” Laura demands.

“Oh,” says Rosemary, sitting down very, very close to Laura on their one bed, “absolutely.”

After a few moments, Laura, now rather flushed and out of breath, says, “Do you remember at that house in Dorset with the French garden, where they put us in the nursery and we broke that flimsy little bed?”

“I still maintain that that beam was already cracked,” Rosemary replies with dignity.

“Better than when the curate almost caught us out back of the rectory at—”

“Yes, yes. Well, we’ve got three nights here and we can take full advantage.”

“Thank goodness for the decline of the English aristocracy,” Laura says.

Rosemary snorts. “Thank goodness.”

[wayhaughtficrec]

Hey! I’ve been looking for this wayhaught fic where Nicole came to Wyn and Waverly really young as one of Bulshar’s followers and grew out of her ways, fell in love with Waverly but got captured protecting her. I can’t seem to find it and it’s driving me nuts 😫 Was wondering if you could find it! If you could, thanks a whole bunch.

I was entirely at a loss for this one, and I would have never pulled A Murder Of Crows by Half without the help of @iamthegaysmurf . I would have never linked a middle ages au to this plot description. But it totally does makes sense that it would be this fic. So go give smurf a shout out for being the real MVP here. 

[takadasaiko]

Nicole leaned against the tree, scanning the horizon for the revenant she was meeting.  Her backpack felt heavy, filled with a mix of things everyone had suggested might make Jeremy feel more at home.  It was a strange jumble of items from his apartment, his lab, and well intentioned gifts from the team. Some of them more practical than others.  A small smile crossed her face as she recalled one of the interactions.

“Okay, but you have to take these, c'mon,” she could hear Waverly saying, waving a s'mores kit, complete with vegetarian marshmallows in front of her girlfriends face.  "He’s never been camping and now seems like a good time for him to try them, maybe it’ll make him smile.“

Nicole shook her head in amusement at the memory.  She doubted that was even remotely on his mind, but it might be a good distraction.  She hadn’t seen Jeremy for long after they’d gotten him back from BBD, but she could tell he had a lot of trauma he was going to have to work through from the experience.  Sounded about right for someone on Team Earp, she thought ruefully. She wasn’t sure how equipped Bobo was to handle that. Sure he’d been through plenty himself, but taking care of someone else…

"Miss Haught.”  The low voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she turned her head sharply, catching sight of Bobo in the shadow of the trees.  She straightened instinctively, still defaulting to defensive around him.

“Bobo,” she greeted.  He looked tired, something she could spot despite his ability to keep his emotions well hidden.

A tense silence hung in the air between them for a long moment.  Then she gestured with her head back at the backpack.

“I brought some things for Jeremy.  Is he…” she paused, before settling for, “Doing any better?”

He fixed her with a wry look, before sighing.  “Not really.” He turned before she could question him, saying, “Maybe you’ll be able to make some conclusions of your own.  You’ll be seeing him soon enough.” He started back into the trees, not bothering to glance behind him to see if Nicole was following.

She let out a frustrated breath, pushing away from the tree and heading after him.  She was a bit surprised when he spoke again.

“I’ve found a way to get him to sleep.  Kid has a lot of nightmares, but it seems to be helping.”

That was more progress than she’d been expecting, but she bit her tongue before she could say anything along those lines.  

“That’s something at least.”  She decided not to press him for the details.  That was likely to only make him close off, which wouldn’t help the situation.

As they continued walking, she felt a dawning realization of where exactly he’d hidden Jeremy.

“This is Swan Reservoir isn’t it?”

The revenant stiffened, a low growl rumbling in his chest at the reminder of all the implications that held.

“It is.”  The words were short and clipped, warning her not to comment further.  Not to mention Willa.

“Well, it’s certainly not going to be a place people think to look,” she offered, trying to keep the peace with a neutral response.  The only people that knew where the treehouse was besides Waverly were dead. If Bobo could keep someone hidden here for years, well,  hopefully it would be able to keep Jeremy off the radar until they figured out how to defuse this situation with BBD.

The revenant eyed her, searching her face for… something.  Maybe judgement, suspicion? Well, he wasn’t the only one who could keep a poker face.  Whatever he was looking for, he let it go, and led the way out into the clearing.

The treehouse stood out starkly against the pale grey sky.  Nicole found herself wondering just how old the structure was.  Had Bobo had it before Willa?

She brushed away the thoughts, watching as the revenant called down the ladder, a mix of rope and metal, from where it was rolled at the top of the tree.  It unfurled in a smooth motion to meet them.

“Ladies first,” he gestured to the rope.

Nicole tried to hide the roll of her eyes, but the smirk on his face made it clear he’d noticed anyway.

“You think you’re such a gentleman for a demon don’t you?” She quipped at him, starting up.

“Sticks and stones,” was the soft reply, tinged with an undercurrent of amusement.

She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard him, making her way up onto the small porch of sorts that the ladder let them off on.  Bobo followed shortly behind. His gaze was measured once more, flicking to her before he opened the door.

She took in the small square room, the natural light filtering in through the thin curtains to illuminate the space.  It was still sparse, but her gaze was drawn to the back right corner, where a bed had been set up.

Jeremy was perched on it, trying to hide the startled, ‘deer in the headlights’ look he had.  His gaze had shot to the door the moment it opened. He had a blanket around his shoulders, which Nicole wasn’t sure whether to liken to a cocoon or a cape.

“Jeremy, hey,” The soft cheer sounded false even to her ears, overly cautious.  If she’d thought Bobo looked tired, Jeremy looked ten times worse.

She stepped into the room, noticing a wave of warmth chase away the chill from outside.  A cursory glance revealed a small wood burning stove tucked into the corner behind the door, which doubled as a heater for the space.

“Hey Nicole.”  The smile was wan, but the way he seemed to brighten nonetheless was genuine.  It was subdued compared to Jeremy’s normal energy, but given everything she’d take what small victories she could find.

The door clicked shut softly, Bobo slipping past her.  His fur coat brushed softly against her.

Nicole watched in surprise as Bobo casually trailed a hand along Jeremy’s shoulder as he went past.  This sort of action from Bobo in itself wasn’t surprising; he’d never been much for personal space. No, what was surprising was the way Jeremy leaned into the touch, a relief flitting across his face.

Before all this, even if they’d gotten along well enough, Jeremy had a tendency to startle or get flustered when Bobo got in his space.

She filed the information away, walking over to sit next to Jeremy on the bed, gently knocking their shoulders together.

“We miss you back in Purgatory Jer.”  She shrugged the backpack off her shoulder, inclining her head.  “Everybody sent gifts for you. You know, to make this feel more like… your own space.”  She wasn’t going to call this place a home, that made everything seem too permanent.

His hands appeared from the folds of the blanket to take the offered bag and she smiled, watching him begin to look through the items.  An assortment of books from Waverly, turned carefully over in his hands, fingers trailing over them appreciatively. Some of his comics that Doc had gathered up, carefully tied together in a bundle.  Wynonna had sent along some of his favorite snacks, along with a small postcard with the ‘hang in there’ cat on it. That elicited a huff of laughter from Jeremy.

Nicole’s gaze softened, glad that everything seemed to be helping a little bit.  He drew out the rainbow scarf from her, which ended in little pockets.

“Solidarity.”  There was a smile in his tone as his gaze flitted over to hers, drawing a soft laugh out of her.

Emotion filled Jeremy’s face as he pulled loose the final item, a small pokemon plushie with a gameboy and some old game cartridges nestled in its grasp.  “Dolls…”

“He found the game at your apartment; since it’s so old there’s no way for BBD to track it, and it runs on batteries, so you should be able to use it out here.”  She tried not to be too obvious as she watched him hug the plush against his chest with one arm, resting his chin on top of the soft material.

“How is everyone?  BBD hasn’t…” he hesitated, not wanting to voice any of his fears.

“You know Wynonna, she was swearing at the agents that dared suggest we knew where you were.”  It hadn’t been anywhere near that simple, but she didn’t want to burden Jeremy with too many details and make him feel worse.

“Everyone’s fine.  Seems like there’s still an agent hanging around in town trying to get a lead on you, but we’re not gonna let that happen.”

Jeremy’s gaze dropped to the blanket, fidgeting with the scarf still draped across the bed.  There was a pause that hung in the air, punctuated by the quiet sound of Bobo doing something elsewhere in the room.

“Why don’t you tell me about how you got this place set up,” she prompted, leading him to lift his gaze and glance around the room.  As far as she’d heard from Waverly it was in disrepair when she’d come here.

It was a bit strange to her how Bobo melted into the background as they talked.   His presence was usually something that demanded attention. Yet here the natural tones of his coat blended with the wood, and he didn’t try to interrupt the two.

He fell to the back of her mind as Jeremy talked, hesitantly at first, but getting more animated as he continued.  He’d settled so he was leaning against her side, apparently drawing comfort from the casual contact.

She was sure he was glossing over some of the details of everything, but she didn’t want to push him.  He looked more like his usual self than she’d seen since he’d gotten away from BBD. And so she let him ramble, interjecting where she needed to.  It was casual, normal, or as normal as you could get when you were in a one room treehouse off the grid. He needed this sort of normalcy.

During one of the lulls in the conversation Bobo came over, wordlessly pressing a mug of tea into Jeremy’s hands.  The action was surprisingly domestic, and Nicole had to wonder at just how well any of them really knew the demon that had somehow found a place in their team.

Jeremy nestled down toward the warm steam rising from the mug, shooting a look of thanks to Bobo.  The revenant smiled back at him, expression softer than the grins that usually crossed his face. He retreated for a moment before coming back and holding a mug of tea out to her as well.  

She accepted it, murmuring a soft thanks.  The warmth of the sides was pleasant against her hands.

“What kind is it?”  She asked, glancing down at the mug.

“It’s a personal blend of earl gray,” he replied, settling onto the other side of Jeremy.  He was careful not to jostle him as he draped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him against his side.

Nicole’s eyebrows raised a bit at the action, Jeremy’s gaze flitting uncertainly between them for a moment.  She offered a gentle smile, taking a sip of her tea. There seemed to be hints of vanilla and something else, lavender maybe, in it.

At her smile, he seemed to relax, and she realized that his flustered response had less to do with Bobo and more to do with how he thought she might take the action.

I’ve had a document for this chapter since August 27th and it’s taken me until now to get it into working order. Also, the tea is based on one I get at the cafe I write at. I was originally gonna include more in this chapter, but I decided to split it. I think this also might be the longest chapter to date, feel free to add a read more?

[lapizules]

Bye Bye, Darling

pairing; connor x reader

rating; mature

summary; (n) loss: the state of grief when deprived of someone or something of value.

Loss was a concept that Connor knew of. He knew of the dictionary definition, the textbook examples of people who have experienced it, and the lingering effects that came after it. Connor knew of loss. But despite his access to a wealth of knowledge on the concept, he could have never prepared himself for the moment his own experience with loss replaced every definition in the book.

side notes; hello! sorry for the SUPER LATE update. i recently went on a three week vacation to asia!!!! i had time to write and i managed to complete about 80% of it but i wasn’t completely satisfied with the chapter until i finished it last night. i worked very hard on this one so i hope you like it!!!! 

He rounds the corner and approaches her room slowly, his hand gripping a bouquet of sunflowers so tightly that the stems start to thin out. He read an article that said flowers are the most appropriate “get well soon” gift, but he knows that nothing he can give will ever be enough. After all, what present is enough to compensate a person for the trauma you’ve caused them? What present can mask the guilt of injuring someone you swore to protect, guilt caused by your errors, your missteps, your fatal miscalculations?

Though his knowledge spans the length of a million encyclopedias, he finds that he doesn’t know the answer. He fears that he will never know. But he’s prepared to find out, even if it eats him alive.

chapter one / chapter two

[thegracelessfaceless]

I hope you don't mind me asking about this.

But I was wondering if I could get either headcanons or a fic of Tim with an s/o (they/them pronouns if possible) who has facial dysmorphia?

//it's something I personally struggle with so I wear just a simple black mask because it makes me feel better.//

If not absolutely chill!

Ahh yes, of course, I'll do my best!

You Don't Have to Wear That(Tim Wright x Dr. Cryptid)

Tw: body dysmorphia

Tim heard Dr. Cryptid come in from work, and looked up to see their black masked face. Things were different than they used to be. The coronavirus pandemic had started over a year ago, and everyone was masking up, doing what they could do not to contact the deadly virus. Even the Operator's influence didn't make him, or others associated with him, immune to it. Everyone had taken precautions, especially Dr. Cryptid, or as Tim affectionately called them, honeypot.

But, as much as his love had wanted to protect themself, there was a different reason they wore the simple, black cloth facemask.

Body dysmorphic disorder (BBD), or body dysmorphia, is defined as a mental illness involving obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance. Treatment can help, but there is no known cure, as with most mental disorders. For Dr. Cryptid, their focus was on their face.

Even though Tim had sworn upon his honor, a big thing for Tim, to his honeypot that their face was perfect, beautiful and pleasing to the eye, every morning, Tim found Dr. Cryptid scowling into the mirror before pulling on one of many black cloth masks. They would rather cover their perceived imperfection than bare it, on display for all to see.

"Now honeypot" Tim chided to their back as they changed from their "working mask" to a clean "home mask", "you know you don't have to wear that around me."

Dr. Cryptid whirled on the spot where they stood, startling Tim.

"Yes, Tim, I do!"

"Why?! You're beautiful. Not a single flaw, I swear it."

Dr. Cryptid's angry stance melted away and in that moment, they looked tired.

"You might not see it, Tim, but I've made a study of my face. It's my face. I have to look at it multiple times every day and every time I do, it sticks out like a sore thumb." They wrapped their arms around their torso. "The mask makes it not as obvious. It's part of my face, Tim, my public face. You see my private face because we live together, and I love you. But I would change it if I could."

Tears were trickling down Dr. Cryptid's face, catching in the cloth of their mask. Tim came and took them into his arms, hugging them tightly to him as they cried.

"Shh... Shh... It'll be okay, honeypot." He kissed Dr. Cryptid's turquoise hair, lingering there to breathe their scent. "I understand now, and you still don't have to wear that around me, but... It's part of you. And I love you. All of you."

[gens1n]

UPDATE 27/8

your last dose of BBD is finally here! i hope you enjoy it :D

also for those waiting to get hit with the angst in this chapter... i’m sorry but it’s all fluff and giggles from now on. why do you want more angst, is childe hurting you not enough, you masochists 😦😦😦

thanks for the love and support for BBD! appreciate it! now on to our dilf kaeya fic <3

[absoluteham]

18, 3, 4

So it’s three in the goddamn morning and this week’s episode broke me so bad I literally had to write an immediate reaction fic to it. IT’S ANGSTY. I’M SORRY. It’s been lightly proofread but not meaningfully edited. It’s sad. READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.

Spoilers, obviously, for Wynonna Earp Season 4, Episode 2.

EIGHTEEN MONTHS, THREE WEEKS, FOUR DAYS

The first day wasn’t so bad.

They got out of the BBD facility by the skin of their teeth. Her leg wasn’t so much broken as it was shattered, and getting out was a humiliating and excruciatingly painful process. The doctors somehow pinned it back together, and even though it hurt like hell, they seemed confident that it would heal in time.

And the whole time in the hospital, she waited for two people to walk through the door— her best friend, and the love of her life. The pain hung over her like a red haze, but she knew that once Waverly got there, she would be very pleasantly distracted and fussed over, and if Wynonna wanted to draw dicks and swear words all over her cast, then so be it, as long as Waverly kissed her the whole time.

She knew that everything would be mostly fine, the same way it was always mostly fine. They always took their knocks and kept going, but they did it together, as a family, and so whatever this new craziness was, they would get through it, as soon as Waverly and Wynonna showed up.

Only they didn’t.

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

The second day was still okay.

Her leg hurt, but between the crutches and the painkillers, she could hobble around a little.

Purgatory was in chaos. She wanted to help, but she was still woozy, and with her leg, she was all but useless. Part of her just wanted to go home, but her house was too close to the action, and besides— when Waverly and Wynonna got back, they would go to the Homestead to regroup. So that’s where she went, too.

She didn’t really expect them to be there, but it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing to ever happen. Even though she knew better, it was still a little disappointing when she shouted their names in the hallway and only heard her own echo reverberating in the walls.

She wanted to go upstairs and collapse into Waverly’s bed and smell their familiar, comforting scent, but there were a lot of stairs and her leg really hurt. She stole Wynonna’s bed instead. It smelled like leather, with hints of smoke and whiskey, and underneath, something a little more feminine.

If they returned while she slept, she would probably wake up from the sound— neither of the sisters were especially quiet. They could help her up to Waverly’s room and from there, everything would fall into place. If Waverly was hurt, they could take care of each other. And if she wasn’t, then she could fuss over Nicole’s leg and they could have that talk about their future together.

As she drifted off to sleep, still half-listening for the door, she hoped she wouldn’t have to wait very long— she really wanted to go upstairs to their real bed.

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

The third day was… a little harder.

She awoke dry-mouthed and with her leg practically on fire with pain. She hadn’t thought to leave any water by the bedside, and there was only a quarter-full bottle of whiskey by the side of the bed. Against her better judgment, she used a tiny swallow of it to chase the painkillers down.

With her leg taking her out of the action, all she had to do at the Homestead was wait. She tried to text the others for updates, and occasionally got answers back, mostly brief and confusing. Mostly, she just rested her leg and listened for the sound of the door opening. After awhile, she moved to the porch and sat there instead, hoping to see Wynonna and Waverly’s return even a moment sooner. She was worried about them, and she missed them.

It was cold on the porch, but that was okay. The warmth of that first hug would chase it all away, and then she would feel better.

When the sun set, she went back inside.

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

The seventh day was harder.

Her leg still hurt, and her nightmares were back, and she’d really expected Waverly and Wynonna to be home by now. She was tired, and everything was strange, and Purgatory was in some state of chaos, and she really wanted Waverly to walk through the door, healthy and happy and carrying her father’s ring. As much as her leg was bothering her, she was sure that a few good hours of cuddles and a good night of sleep would make her feel completely better.

She kept waiting on the porch, but the isolation was starting to get to her. She wanted to do something. If the town was in trouble, she wanted to help. If Waverly and Wynonna were in danger, she wanted to save them. But she could barely walk.

So all she could do was wait.

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

The thirtieth day was so much harder.

Her leg still hurt a little, but she could tolerate it better now, at least enough that she could go to town sometimes and help where she could. Truth be told, that pain was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Sleeping was getting harder and harder. She was still in Wynonna’s bed— she could climb the stairs now without any trouble (thank goodness, since the Homestead’s one bathroom was annoyingly up there), but she was afraid of what it would do to her emotionally to go back to Waverly’s room.

Would the sheets still smell like her? Smell like them? Or had she waited too long? Would she wake up confused, reaching out for the body that was supposed to be next to her? Would she roll over after a nightmare, looking for a warm embrace to snuggle into? Or would it just be a cruel reminder, as soon as she opened her eyes, that they still weren’t back?

She felt touch-starved and cranky, but she couldn’t help it. She missed them. She missed Waverly. They hadn’t been separated for this long since they’d met, and it was torture. She wanted to talk to her, to see her face and hear her voice and process her reactions. She wanted a big, tight hug and a long, deep kiss, and one decent, dreamless night of sleep.

Sometimes she caught herself daydreaming about simple things— the sound of Waverly’s laugh, or the tone of Wynonna’s voice as she made a joke. She thought about how soft Waverly was— her skin, her lips, her hair— and the way they all felt under her fingertips. She remembered the sounds she made when they made love in the upstairs bedroom.

She still waited on the porch sometimes. But not as often.

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

The hundredth day was the hardest yet.

She was getting used to waking up screaming or crying. She didn’t even reach out anymore, no longer half-expected Waverly’s warm body next to her. She just already knew she was alone.

It was somehow worse that way.

At some point, she had given into temptation and gone into Waverly’s room. She had waited too long, but sometimes she would catch the slightest whiff of her scent in a pillow or in the sheets, and her heart would give a huge, embarrassing leap at the reminder. She started using it as a sort of reward, or a rare source of secret comfort. If the day had been bad enough, or the nightmare upsetting enough, she would crawl into Waverly’s bed and remember their sweet shared moments there and just imagine that someday, eventually, her family would come back for her.

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

The two-hundredth day was pretty bad.

Purgatory was still a mess, but they were all doing what they could. She saw the others only rarely these days, and though they were all bonded by the intensity of the situation, they all mostly had to lie low, isolated in their own little bunkers. Nicole stayed at the Homestead, convinced that if— no, for God’s sake, when— Waverly and Wynonna came back, they would want to go home. So she kept it safe, and kept it in one piece, and shot at anyone who stepped foot on the cursed Earp land.

Her hair was visibly growing out, and she let it. She had too many other things on her mind to worry about, and it didn’t seem important. Besides, Waverly had always liked it long.

The cast had come off her leg, and it was such a relief, even if the muscle had weakened from its time in the cast and would take some time to build up again. She had felt a weird pang as it came off, struck by the thought that Wynonna had never gotten the opportunity to scrawl lewd drawings onto it. She couldn’t quite explain to the doctors that she was upset by the lack of dicks on it.

Some days, she would stand around the Homestead, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls or propped up on tables, making sure she still remembered their every feature. Waverly’s smile, Wynonna’s smirk. Waverly’s long, beautiful hair, Wynonna’s top-shelf ass. (She laughed at that, even alone in the empty house.)

Daydreaming became a full-fledged hobby. It was bittersweet to remember the days they’d all spent together— sometimes fighting evil, sometimes just… living. Coffee in the kitchen in the morning, and sitting around the fire at night. Her focus was usually on Waverly, but she missed Wynonna, too. They were her family, and she hadn’t seen them in the better part of a year.

It was getting harder and harder to hold onto to hope that they would return. Something had obviously gone wrong— terribly wrong. But she had to believe that they were still out there somewhere, trying to get home. What other choice did she have?

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

Christmas sucked.

Her birthday sucked, too.

Both times, she clung irrationally to this strange, desperate thought that maybe that would be the day they turned up, that her present would be an end to the endless waiting. That she could wrap Waverly Earp up in her arms like a gift from the universe and never let her go again.

After that, she tried not to hope so much.

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

The three-hundred-sixty-fifth day was horrible.

She baked herself a cake.

It didn’t help.

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

The five-hundred-seventy-second day was… cold. And empty.

She hadn’t seriously thought about them returning in months— not really, not in any real, hopeful way.

After all, after all those months, after a year, after five hundred and seventy two days… why should any one day be any different?

Time barely meant anything anymore. They still fought to keep Purgatory intact, she still guarded and maintained the Homestead, and all the days sort of blended together. She fixed a broken part of the fence. She shot a demon trying to raid the Homestead. She rehung a crooked door. She ate. She slept— sort of. She made sure all Wynonna’s precious throw pillows stayed intact and all of Waverly’s favorite blankets stayed clean and cared for. She left Valdez carved into the wall as a tasteless memento of that fateful day.

Nights were still terrible most of the time. She sort of remembered what it had been like to sleep next to Waverly— she remembered the blankets, there were so many blankets. They had been too warm for her, so they couldn’t always sleep right next to each other. But first thing in the morning, there had been sunrise cuddles and lazy smiles and gentle, affectionate teasing. And sometimes, there would be hands sliding under clothing and hot, panting breaths, and burning, sensual touches, and cries of release.

She never reached out anymore, except after the worst nights, where different layers of nightmares— Bulshar’s massacre, the widow’s bite, free-falling down that damn grate— left her brain so scrambled that for a second after waking up, some long-buried instinct still thought she was entitled to a hug of comfort. In her weaker moments, she fantasized about warm arms encircling her, and a gentle voice telling her that she was safe and that everything was okay. But she tried not to think about that so much anymore. It helped, but at a cost.

Her leg was back to being as strong as it ever was, but she felt like her heart had hardened. Every day, for five hundred and seventy-two days, she had waited for her family to come back to her. And every day, for five hundred and seventy-two days, she had been let down. That push and pull of hope and disappointment had left her raw at first, but now the wound had long since callused over. She refused to move on, she refused to give up on them— but she was getting too exhausted to really hope anymore.

She still stood on the porch sometimes. She told herself it was just to keep watch over the lands. She didn’t let herself admit that there could be any other reason, any hope lingering under the callus.

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

On the five hundred and seventy-third day, Nicole Haught stood on the Homestead porch, just leaning in the doorway. She kept her shotgun with her, but didn’t really expect to need it. It was a cold, snowy day, and she rubbed at her eyes. She’d had strange dreams all night, the good and the bad all tangled together, and it left her feeling twitchy and on-edge.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye, standing out against the snow. She raised the shotgun and gave a warning shot.

“Eat shit, shit-eater! I’m warning you, no trespassing!” she shouted in that direction, hoping they wouldn’t bother putting up a fight. The figure ducked behind a tree, then emerged seconds later.

No.

No way.

It couldn’t be.

After all this time, these months, these years, after everything…

“Waverly…”

It was her, standing against the rising sun like a vision.

She fumbled the shotgun as she set it against the wall, the shock leaving her numb. She didn’t wonder if it was a trick. She didn’t wonder if it was a dream, or a lie, or a hallucination, or an imposter.

Nicole had thought that her heart had hardened, that it had built up a layer of armor around it, but it all shattered like ice the instant Waverly Earp flew into her arms.

“It’s me.”  The impact, physical and emotional, nearly bowled her over. Waverly held her tight, then pulled back enough to look into her face. “It’s me. Oh God, it’s you!” She was beaming, and the sight of her smile nearly dropped Nicole to her knees. “We’re home…”

“Are you… real…?” Nicole stammered out, the words tumbling out of her on sheer instinct.

“Are you?” Waverly countered, half-laughing.

“Get in here and check,” she choked out, and Waverly surged forward. Their lips connected, and everything else fell away.

Without breaking apart for even a second, they staggered their way into the house, and then, layer by layer, clothes fell away. They needed to see each other. They needed to feel each other. It had been eighteen months, three weeks, and four days, and it was over. The time had finally, finally come.

Nicole tried to steer them up the stairs, but it was hard to focus on the task when Waverly was soft and real and here, here, here. They kissed like it was the end of the world, and like it was the start of a new one. Every touch, every kiss, was a new revelation, a reminder of what she had lost, of what had been returned to her.

Their clothing dropped to the floor piece by piece, a trail of love leading straight to where their bodies paused— here against a wall, here on the floor, here on the stairs, inching their way up to the bedroom with agonizing, delicious slowness.

The stairs turned out to be as far as they got. If anyone had asked Nicole what she thought about having sex on the Homestead stairs, she would have laughed in their face and pointed out the bedroom a ten-second walk away. But here in this moment, ten seconds was far too long to stop, far too far a distance to travel. Waverly was in her arms, naked and real, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

They paused in a moment of afterglow, not fully separating, just breathing, just staying close, just looking at each other in amazement.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” Waverly said, and Nicole’s heart soared, almost two years of fear and sadness and loneliness pouring out of her in sweat and heavy breaths and small, involuntary laughs. “So why do I feel like bawling?”

Nicole pressed their noses together, smirking at her and feeling more like herself than she had in… oh, about nineteen months, give or take.

“Well, after what we just did, you’re probably pretty dehydrated,” she teased, drunk on the lightness she felt.

Waverly laughed, giggling against her, and something broke anew in Nicole’s chest. She basked in the sound, letting it wash over her.

“Your laugh…” she breathed, closing her eyes for a second to drink it in. “…is like… Christmas.” She shook her head even as she said it, refusing to remember what last Christmas had been like. There hadn’t been a lot of laughter. She kept going, instead, washing the memories from her mind with another kiss. “Your lips are so soft.”

“Are you going to spend all day listing all the things you like about me?” Waverly asked.

“More like the rest of my life,” Nicole said, and meant it.

Waverly seemed to search her face, silently asking if that was the answer to a question asked so long, long ago.

“I love you,” Waverly said, breaking Nicole’s heart open anew. And then, as thought that were too much, too real, too serious, she gripped the ends of Nicole’s hair, tossing them in her hands. “I’m also loving the Little Mermaid vibes.” She looked at it like there was something funny about it, and Nicole wondered if she’d expected her to keep it the same length this whole time. “So, what, you just zipped into the Ghost River Triangle and got extensions?”

Nicole gave her a strange look, trying to understand her confusion.

“I just grew it out,” she said, hoping that they could return to the rest of my life and I love you part of the conversation, which kept tugging at her soft, soft heart.

“What?” Waverly asked, her voice puzzled and oddly serious. Nicole shook her head, nuzzling closer as tears encroached.

Somehow, her confusion, this focus on such a pointless thing, just made the moment seem all the more real. In Nicole’s dreams, even the best ones, Dream Waverly could only speak on her script, but here… now… she was her own person, thinking her own quirky thoughts in her own beautiful brain.

It was Waverly. Her voice, her face, the crinkle of her smile, the light in her eyes. She was here. She was really here. She felt real, and she smelled real, and she tasted real, and it was all just… so much. A feast after a famine.

“Sorry, I just… I just missed you so much.” Overwhelmed, she buried her face in Waverly’s shoulder as the tears forced their way out, and Waverly held her close, cradling her head and gripping her hair like she really wouldn’t let go.

“Wait… How did…” Waverly pushed her gently back after a few seconds, her brow furrowed and a confused frown on her face. “How did you grow it out?”

Nicole couldn’t understand how they were sitting there, together, naked on the Homestead staircase, and Waverly only had questions about her hair, of all things. She chose to take it as a larger question about what had happened while they were separated.

“I broke my leg, and I came back to Purgatory, but I had to retreat to the Homestead. I did everything I could to keep it safe for you.” Desperation rang in her voice at the last part— she wanted Waverly to know how hard she’d tried, how she’d wanted to do it, all for her. How she’d waited. How despite everything, she’d never really lost hope, not completely.

But Waverly still looked serious.

“Nicole, wait, just tell me. How long have I been gone?”

“Don’t you know?” Waverly didn’t answer, so Nicole continued, not even needing to think about it. The clock in her head had never stopped ticking, the mental calendar had never lost a day. “You’ve been gone… eighteen months, three weeks, and four days.”

[thewordworrier]

Born Bob Dylan

(Once again we’ve got @robinruns​ providing me with a fantastic moodboard. She’s too good to me <3) Word Count: 32,000 and change. Rating: Teen and up, for now. I might revise that at a later date. Warnings: - FOC. I know some people don’t like those. - Erm, post-MCR, if you want a warning for that. - No cheating involved. No kids. I don’t write the kids. - It’s an AU, obviously! - There’s a little swearing.

After the break up of both his band and his marriage, despite his best efforts, Gerard couldn’t stay away from music.

Even a solo artist needs a tour manager - and being introduced to his made Gerard feel like the past was definitely not through with him.

The question remained - was there anything else?

Other Notes: - Title is taken from a song of the same name by The Veronicas. [Link should take you to the song on YouTube - let me know if it’s broken!] - Inspired by a dream I had once. Well, the first chapter anyway. The rest just... Happened.  - Post MCR but just a little before (and during) the Hesitant Alien tour. I’m sketchy on locations and vague on details because... I’m lazy? I have a list of the tour dates (obviously, I have a shirt) but it’s more... Convenient to me to not be too specific. - On a similiar note to the above: I (probably) mess around with timings and realities of tour life/the job a little. That’s just what I do. Finally: I... Have been nervous about sharing this one. Very nervous. But I’ve worked pretty hard on it, and I’m actually really pleased with it. I think I’m almost proud.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen Bonus Part !

[supergirlspurgatory]

Okay so I have a Wayhaught story for you. So I was thinking about how Emily was saying Wynonna definitely has opinions about Waverly and Nicole being together so what if Wynonna takes a moment with Nicole to have "the talk" with her about how she better not hurt her or end up like Champ (but she knows she won't) and Waverly hears part of this conversation and runs aways and now is very distant with Nicole bc she thinks Wynonna scared her away but later she assures she's not going anywhere

So, I couldn’t help myself and i wrote a whole fic for this. Hope you like it!!!!

Waverly was finally back from that creepy possession ordeal that they had to deal with, and she will absolutely tell you, that she will never be touching any strange gunk that she finds on the ground or otherwise, ever again. But everything is okay now and Wynonna, Waverly, Doc, and Nicole have taken over the Black Badge office in their search to try and find and get Dolls back.

It is had been a few days and the four of them have been locked up in that office. 

Waverly has been pouring over books and the internet, searching for anything she can wrestle up about secret government agencies that she can.

Wynonna was going through Dolls’s computer while she drinks whiskey out of his X cup, and muttering curse words under her breath since frankly there isn’t anything useful or entertaining of the hard drive.

Doc was sitting alone, at the far corner of the table. At first, he had spent a lot of time examining the vials that he had injected into Dolls before the showdown are Shorty’s. Now, though, he has moved on playing Solitare with an impossibly old set of cards.

Nicole, she has been sniffing out every gun and other weapons she can find in the office, she has been cataloging them and cleaning them, even going so far as to dismembering and, all the guns. At one point she even managed to wrestle PeaceMaker away from Wynonna. It was a very difficult feat and she found out that it hadn’t been cleaned in a very long time, probably since Wyatt himself had it.

Now it has been a couple of weeks, and with all the stress, Wynonna had pretty much forgotten about Nic and Waves dating, and reverting back to her normal self, had become totally oblivious of the lingering eye contact between her sister and the officer, not so subtle touching that they exchanged whenever close enough, and that whenever one of them left the room the other followed. She was so wrapped up in herself she had pretty much forgotten about the two dating.

At the end of the fourth night, after all of them had done almost as much as they could. Wynonna hadn’t found anything on the computer. Waverly hadn’t found anything mention a Black Badge Division. Nicole had run out of weapons to clean. And Doc, well how many games of solitaire can someone really play before they go insane? They all had started to sigh heavily and push their work away.

Grabbing Nicole’s hand, and looking across to Wynonna who’s face was buried in her palms, Waverly clears her throat, “You know Gus left me a message early and said that she was going to open Shorty’s back up tonight, invited us to stop by.”

“Got Dolls and I’s mess all cleaned up then?” Doc asks when he perks up at the idea of going to the saloon for a drink.

“Yup, I guess some town’s folk pitched in,” Waverly starts, “Gus said they wanted to try and make it up to Wynonna, the whole trying to kill her thing.”

“Strange,” Wynonna finally adds, “They’ve never felt bad about my near death before, I guess people are growing around here.”

“Oh come on Earp,” Nicole can’t help but attempt to protest that, “not everyone in this town hates you.”

Wynonna scoffs at that, “You clearly did not grow up around here red. But that is a conversation for another night when my brain doesn’t feel like soup. I think we ought to head down there, support Gus.”

It didn’t take them long to pack their things up and head to Shorty’s. Wynonna had already slipped behind the bar and found a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. Doc had stepped out to get some air for a few minutes. Waverly and Nicole had claimed a booth and were cuddled up pushed into the corner of the booth and were enjoying a slightly discreet and satisfying make out session.

“What the hell is this, guys?” Wynonna almost demands as she sets the bottle and glass down on the table.

“Uh, it’s me kissing my girlfriend Wy,” Waverly answers, with a very confused tone.

“Oh shit.” Wynonna declares as it dawns on her. “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“No shit Earp,” Nicole adds after she lets out a giggle.

“I guess you and I need to have a little talk then Haught,” Wynonna replies as she starts the red-head down.

“I think that may be my cue to go find Doc,” Waverly says as she gives Nicole an apologetic smile for throwing her to the wolves or rather wolf that is Wynonna Earp, and then heads away.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing with my little sister?“ Wynonna asks, jumping right in.

“Honestly? Loving her.” Is all Nicole offers her in response.

“She’s been loved before Haught. What’s supposed to make you think you’re any different?” Wynonna questions the red head further.

“The way that I look at her.” Nicole challenges.

“And what way might that be?”

“Like she, herself, hung the moon and the stars, just for me.” Is all Nicole gives in return. Honestly, if you Wynonna hasn’t figured it out by now, she figuring she’ll have to draw it out for the woman.

“Champ used to look at her like that until she stopped being a trophy for him to win and became the strong young woman that she is. How am I supposed to know that you’re different than him?” Wynonna challenges Nicole. She knows that Nicole is different, but she needs to get a promise right from the woman.

“Because I’m not a boy-man-child like he was or is or whatever. Come on Wynonna, you’ve known me for a while now, do you really think I have it in me to treat anyone like crap, let alone Waves?” Nicole asks the question almost beginning to feel hurt.

“Well, I guess you’ve got a point there. I just have to make sure to give you the shovel talk or whatever. You know, Waverly is the most important person in my life and I haven’t really been there for her until recently, and I think I’m still a little too caught up in the curse bullshit to truly give her the attention she deserves.” Wynonna offers the confession as a peace offering of sorts.

“I get that Wy. But you are here now, and you’re not going anywhere. Plus, she has me now too, so I think she’ll be just fine.”

As Nicole finishes her statement, Waverly is walking back up to the table and notices the two other women completely emerged in the conversation but doesn’t catch anything, until Wynonna’s final statement.

“I get that. But just to put it out there, if you so much as crack her heart, or treat her even a little poorly, I swear to you, I’ll be using PeaceMaker for more that putting down revenants.” It’s an empty threat as she knows Nicole is better than that. As she finished though she notices Waverly within earshot and is completely unaware that she has been standing there long enough to hear the threat. 

“Hey, Baby Girl!” Wynonna greats Waverly with a broad smile. “Did you find Doc?”

“I ummm, I’m not feeling well, can you take me home Wynonna?” Waverly asks, not even responding to the question, she’s so shaken up from hearing the threat, scared of what it means. Does Wynonna no like Nicole as much as she’d been letting on the past few weeks?

“I can take Babe.” Nicole offers before Wynonna gets a chance to respond.

“No, I want Wynonna to take me.” Is all Waverly offers, and honestly the way she says it is a little cold. Before either Nicole or Wynonna has a chance to interject again, Waverly has headed out of the building. Thinking, dammit Wynonna, I finally found a good one, and you’re going and scaring her away, you can’t threaten lesbians with guns, it freaks them out. Admittedly, Waverly may have recently delved into gay culture and learned a lot about lesbian tropes.

“You’re not driving her anywhere Earp.” Is how Nicole decides is best to start the conversation.

“Why the hell not Haught? If Waves wants to go, I’ll take her where ever she wants.” Wynonna defends herself.

“No, you won’t. You’ve been drinking Whiskey all day, and you’ve drunk half that bottle by yourself while we’ve been sitting here. It’s not safe for you to get behind the wheel.” Nicole offers as she stands up and slips on her jacket.

“Fine. You going to go get her then?” Wynonna reluctantly asks.

“Yeah. Y’all can come sleep at my place when you get done here if you want.” Nicole presents the peace offering.

“Thanks, but there’s a room upstairs here, we’ll just take it. Let’s meet in the office at noon tomorrow? Give everyone a chance to get some extra rest.” Wynonna offers in return, her own peace offering of sorts.

“Sure, see ya then.” And with that Nicole has turned to head out the saloon herself. 

Nicole runs through the bodies as quickly as she can, pushing through the front doors, and scanning her surroundings. She finds Waverly sitting in her Jeep, letting it run. As Nicole gets closer to the Jeep, she notices hard sporadic shaking of Waverly’s shoulders, a clear sign of the tears that a certainly falling down the girl’s face. Wasting no more time, she runs to the driver’s door where Waverly is sat and pulls it open. Before she has a chance to protest or even notices who’s arms are enveloping, Nicole makes quick work gather Waverly up, rubbing her hands up and down the younger woman’s back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Nicole whispers in her ear.

With the question, Waverly starts to push Nicole away but doesn’t have enough strength to get her too far away.

“I asked for Wynonna,” Waverly states through heavy breaths.

“I know, but I don’t feel comfortable with Wynonna taking you anywhere. She’s had too much to drink.” Nicole offers, loosening her grip while looking down to search Waverly’s eyes to try and figure out what is going on. “I was thinking we could go to my place and I would take care of you.”

“I don’t expect you to take care of me Nic. You don’t even want to be around me, I’m sure.” Waverly states, not being able to help herself and leaning into Nicole.

“What the heck are you talking about Waverly?” Nicole asks shocked.

“I heard what Wynonna said. She threatened to kill you.” Waverly makes the statement though another round of tears.

“Oh baby,” Nicoles starts, with a grin playing at her lips. “She didn’t mean that.”

“Yes she did, she doesn’t joke about using PeaceMaker,” Waverly mumbles into the collar of Nicole’s shirt, that is quickly absorbing tears and most likely a gross combination of slobber and snot, not that Nicole minds. Waverly can bawl into any of her shirts any time she needs to.

“No babe, I promise she didn’t mean it. She knows I would never hurt you. She knows that I love you too much. She knows that I will treat you better than anyone else has ever treated you. She just said that because she felt like she had to finish her shovel talk.” Nicole whispers it to Waverly as she combs a hand through her hair.

“Are you sure?” Waverly asks, starting to regain her composure. 

“Yes, I promise. Now let’s go home and go to sleep. I think you may be a little over exhausted from the past couple weeks.” Nicole says as she lifts Waverly up, letting the smaller woman cling to her like a Khola bear, and walks to the other side of the Jeep. “We can sleep in and go get breakfast, Wynonna doesn’t want us coming in until noon.”

As she lets Nicole settle her into the passenger’s seat of her own car, she watches Nicole intently. Nicole just pays attention to what she’s doing. She buckles Waverly in and leans across her to turn the heat up a bit. As she is pulling herself out of the car, though, Waverly grabs the lapels of her jacket and pulls her so the forehead to forehead.

“You promise you want to be with me?” Waverly asks gently, her breath tickling Nicole’s lips.

“I promise Waverly. Ther is nowhere else, I would rather be.” Nicole makes what is probably the truthful statement of her life, and she is rewarded. She is rewarded by Waverly who leans in, gently pushing her lips to Nicoles, it’s the kiss of a promise, a kiss that means I love you, a kiss that says thank you for loving me. It gently but still passionate. Their lips move together like a choreographed dance. It is as though they were made for kissing each other, and honestly, they probably are.

“Good, because I feel the exact same way.” Waverly states as she pulls away but stays close enough to punctuate each word with another kiss.