#also i fully believe she has a few secret tattoos she’s hid from her parents

[tasteless-vermin]

when she blackmails a principal to get a job ❤️

+bonus version with @/caitmayart’s cats from aelwyn’s original art poorly photoblasted on

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Mother dragon (5); Winchester brothers x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey ya’ll okay I first want to say thank you so much for everyone who has taken an interest in this series. I thought no one would give it a shot but now I am in tears at seeing the messages that some of you give me about how much you like this series. And here I present to you, another part and there’s a special treat for you all inside but I won’t tell you what it is, you’ll just have to read and find out.

Taglist:

@onebigfangirlworld

______________________________________________

Part 5

“Mum. Mum.” I groaned tiredly. “Mum wake up.” Oh god the one thing I never missed, even now that he’s practically full grown. I peeled my eyes open to see Deacy hovering over me.

“What is it?” I groaned out.

“Two questions; one what is that symbol on your right shoulder mean?” I peeked over to see my anti-possession tattoo and I said.

“Well,” I rubbed my eyes trying to wake myself up further as I explained, “You remember how I told you about demons?” he nodded and I said as I gestured to my tattoo, “Well once I turned 18, I got this done instead of having to deal with that necklace on all the time. This tattoo on my body makes me immune to demon possessions.”

“Ahh, and second. What’s that suit you’ve got in the closet?”

“What suit?” I asked.  He stood up, walked over to my closet and revealed a secret latch which soon sent my secret falling out.  I quickly got out of the bed and I said to him. “What have I told you about going through my stuff?”

“All I want to know is what it is? It’s not like I’ll tell the brothers. You know you can trust me.” I looked at him an of course those soft brown eyes made me butter up every single time.  And now that he was an adult, it only just made him that much cuter.

“Okay, okay. But promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Would they even listen to me if I did?” my heart ached a little hearing that come out of his mouth.  I walked up to him and grabbed the suit from the rope and placed it on my hidden mannequin.  I also took from my drawers the blueprints I had made years ago and handed them to him.

“It’s just a fantasy really, but after remembering that time seeing you fly, I just felt this rush of adrenaline and thought ‘hell why can’t I make one?’ Wings here are made of a flexible but durable leather texture that kinda resemble bat wings. They’re controlled by these pulley here, pull the string and out they pop. The suit itself is light weight so it’s not as bulky as the 2012 Ironman suit in the Avengers, but it’s strong and bullet proof at least.”

“You know dragon skin is the toughest shield there is, even stronger than your regular bullet proof vests. Maybe we can rework the cover of the armor. Make it more dragonesque.” He said.

“We?”

“Yes. This is a really cool design mum. And I think once it’s fully ready we can take it for a test drive.”

“And how do you plan on doing that Mr. Smart guy? We’ll be spotted anywhere here in Kansas.”

“We’ll find a way. So how long did it take you to build this?”

“Well after helping Dean fix his baby, and him teaching me a thing or two about electrical engineering, about…..2 and a half years. Also taking in the time to work on cases with the boys, helping save the world a couple of times. The usual procrastination stuff.” He nodded and he said.

“This is a well-made suit mum. Finally joining team dragons are yah?”

“Again Deacy it’s just a fantasy. I don’t even know if this suit will even work, it’s never been tested out and I’ve had it done for 9 months now.”

“Yo (y/n)!” I heard Dean say from the other side of my door.

“Shit.” I muttered as I quickly hid the suit in my closet and shut it.  I quickly turned towards Deacon and was shocked to realize that he was also shirtless. “Gah Deacy put your shirt back on.” I whispered to him as I frantically started trying to find where he had tossed his shirt but couldn’t find it anywhere?

“Why?”

“Because if Dean walks in and sees you like—this he’ll think we…..that you…..” but it was too late, Dean opened my door.  He still wore his robe and dark blue nightshirt and shorts as well as his slippers.

“We need to—” Dean opened the door and the second he saw Deacon in my room shirtless, the tiredness immediately left his face as he turned between him and me. “I’mma get my gun.” He bluntly stated as he turned to walk out of my room.

“Dean…..” I stepped forward but he quickly turned around and got into a karate-style like defense position.

“If you truly believe that I would ever turn on my mother like how you’re thinking, you’re even sicker than I thought you were.” Deacy said as he sat down at the foot of my bed.

“Yeah then why the hell don’t you have a shirt on? More importantly why are you in her room?”

“Because you weren’t going to give him a room and dragons get antsy when they’re in unfamiliar places so I allowed him to stay here. Dean c’mon, not this early.”

“Come on? Are you kid…..Look…..This….moth—You and me. Library. Right now.” He spoke his last statement as he tied the strings of his robe around his waist closing his robe around him staring me down like a pissed off dad who caught his daughter having sex with her boyfriend. “Come on!” he pointed behind him emphasizing his demand.

I sighed heavily and turned to Deacy before walking out of my room.  I could imagine Deacon trying to follow me because next thing I knew, Dean stopped Deacon by crying out at like he was disciplining a dog.

We reached the library and there I saw Sam as well as Cas.

“Cass, well this is a surprise.”

“Hello (y/n).” he greeted me.

“Hey young lady, we still need to talk about what happened back there.” Dean said as he came into the library.  I sighed annoyed as Sam said.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“I found our little lizard guest was shirtless as he slept with his ‘mother’.”

“Dean I’m gonna ask you as nicely as I can. Can you please get your head out of your ass by this much so that I can explain myself?!” I rubbed my temples and continued, “Nothing happened, okay. When I went to bed he had a shirt on, okay?”

“Should I even ask what this is all about?” asked Cass confused.

“We’ve got a dragon in the bunker.” Explained Sam.

“A—a what?!”

“Yeah a dragon, they still exist and she’s the mother of the one we got.” Dean stated bluntly.

“How—”

“It’s a long story, we’ll fill you in later.” Sam explained.

“But…..how were you not captured? Dragons are attracted to virgin women, that dragon should’ve take you to its den.” Cass said.

“Yes, thank you Cass. I know how dragons are around women.” I sneered.

“Sorry it’s just that. Dragons are attracted to the smell of virgin women and if they aren’t virgins then, they lash out aggressively.” Cass continued to explain not helping my cause.

“Oh god (y/n) please tell you’re—” Dean started off and that’s when I proclaimed.

“Seriously?! When would I have time to give away my V card guys? I’ve lived in the woods for 6 years of my life, most of my teenage life trying to survive. I was in the system for two till I was legal and by then I met you two knuckleheads. When exactly would I have time to have a one night stand with someone?”

“Are we still on the discussion whether I’ll take my mum away from you all?” Deacon’s voice soon piped up.  We turned around and I saw that Deacon was now dressed in one of Dean’s shirts as well as a pair of his jeans.

“Is that my Led Zeppelin shirt?” Dean snapped.

“Dean don’t.” I said.

“There’s another one of you here. But he’s not human.” Deacon spoke up wearily as he stared Cass down.

“Cass, this is my adopted son Deacon. I found him shortly after he was hatched. Deacy, this is Castiel he’s……”

“I’m an angel of the Lord.” He spoke up for me. Deacon’s eyes widened before he turned to Cass.

“It’s okay Deacy, he’s not like that last angel you and I encountered. You can trust Cass” I assured him.  He hummed and nodded before saying.

“As I was saying earlier, I’ve known my mother since I was a few days old. Barely enough time to fully imprint with my real mother. (Y/n) has filled in the rest of the imprint of being my mother and that’s all I see her as. Not a threat, not prey, not an obsession. Just my mother, and nothing else.” I walked over towards Deacy.

He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled into my neck affectionately as I heard the soft purrs coming out of him.  I stroked through his long hair and said.

“And that’s all I see Deacon as. Not a lover, not a monster, and most certainly not a soulless beast, but my son.”

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was currently going through the Men of Letter’s library, trying to find anything about dragons that they might have found.  He was also using Sam’s laptop to do some basic animal researching on imprinting, of course most of the search revolved around the Twilight movies but the stuff he did manage to find basically stated the same thing.

“Dude how many times have I told you not to use my laptop? Last time you used it; it froze for a month all because of your Asian porn searching.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist Sammy, I’m actually doing some real research this time.”

“And what would that be?”

“Dragons and imprinting. I’m still not buying this crap Deacon’s saying.”

“Well what all have you found out?” Sam asked as he sat down in front of his brother.

“Well the Men of Letters say in this book of how ‘dragons always claim a female virgin in order to sustain their lustful urges.’ Nothing about imprinting or whether a dragon could imprint on a human at the first few moments of birth.”

“What have you found out about Imprinting?”

“Basically the same thing that when an animal is born, the first thing they see they child-parental bond is formed. The animal will just follow you like a lost puppy. Kinda like you do most days.” Sam looked at his brother and he said.

“And both (y/n) and Deacon have said that it was just a few days after he ‘hatched’ that they both met each other.”

“Exactly. Plus it’s been what—seven years since they’ve seen each other. Who knows what that guy’s been up to since then. What if he came into contact with another dragon? Could’ve been taught how to be a real dragon, fallen off the wagon?”

“That is a possibility. I mean it happens with cats and dogs if they become strays for a certain amount of years. But I have to ask, why would he not take her to his nest? Why let her stay back at her old home and not take her away?”

“It could be a play. After all he was raised by (y/n). She’s clever.”

“Yeah but Dean maybe—maybe there’s a chance that Deacon is different than the dragons we encountered a few years back after I got my soul back.”

“Until I see something about it, then Deacon’s still a menace and a danger to (y/n). Now why don’t you help me out here and see if you can find anything that I’m missing here.”

Reluctantly but understanding of where Dean was coming from, Sam picked up another book and began reading as closely as he could through every word and every page on the behavior of dragons.

*My POV*

I was out for my mid-morning run through the woods, I had allowed Deacon to make some adjustments that he saw would benefit my dragon armor and make it even more authentic.  I soon stopped panting softly at a cliff’s edge that overlooked the lower levels of the forests.

“Hello (y/n).” I jumped a bit but knew that it was only Cass.

“Damnit Cass how many times must we go through this? Had I not already been through this, I would’ve probably fallen over the cliff.”

“Sorry.” I waved off the apology and said.

“What is it that you came out here for? I know you’ve got something on your mind.”

“It’s about Deacon.”

“Why what’s happened? Is he okay? Did Dean do something to him? If he did I swear to God—”

“He’s fine. It’s more so about your relationship with Deacon than anything else.” I sighed heavily and said.

“Cass please—”

“You are aware of what he is right?”

“Yes Cass I’ve known since the beginning. I came across his mother’s corpse at 11 years old. I watched as poachers, not hunters, poachers which means they hunt for sport, not protection. Come up to her and started admiring her cold, dead corpse and talking about how much they were going to make off of her piece. By piece. If I didn’t allow Deacon to come with me, he would’ve been sold off too, if not killed, while still looking like a 6 year old boy.”

“I understand where you’re coming from. But (y/n) that was all in the past. It’s been years since you’ve seen Deacon. How do you know he won’t revert back to what a dragon is supposed to do?”

“If he had, don’t you think I wouldn’t be here?”

“Some dragons bait their victims on. Don’t you think Deacon could’ve gotten in contact with other dragons and they taught him how to behave like a real one?” I refused to answer that because Deacon already told me everything.

“What exactly are you trying to say Cass? Stop with the riddles and just say it to my face.”

“Deacon’s now a full grown dragon. It wouldn’t be safe for you to have him at this rate. He’s not some pet that you can keep—”

“Didn’t I just say back there that he’s not a pet. I don’t see him as one. He’s my son.”

“And as a parent you must know that all children grow up. While we are grateful to him for saving you from the Vetala pack, he—he has to go back to his home. Wherever that is.”  Oh I see where this is going.

“Well I hate to disappoint you Cass, but he’s not going anywhere. As his mother he’s going to stay here. I’ve been searching for him for seven years. I thought he had been killed, and now that I’ve found him, he’s never leaving my side again. I can take care of him, protect him and ensure that no hunter goes after him.”

“(Y/n), you’re not thinking clearly. He’s built his own life somehow. I know he’s told you that. What if he has a mate back home? Children? They’ll need him.” But as Cass kept ranting on trying to get me to see reason, I heard something in the air.

It was a deep, low wind gust.  But I knew better, it didn’t sound like wind at all. Plus I have been out here for over an hour and no wind has blown yet, in fact the weather said there wouldn’t be any wind today.

“Cass be quiet.” I said.

“No (y/n) you need to hear—”

“No, no serious quiet!” I was alert and Cass seemed to sense something as well.

“What was that?” my stomach dropped and I muttered.

“Cass get down.” Then suddenly flying right up the cliff’s edge were two large dragons.

One was a massive spiked dark dragon with red like fins decorated down along it’s neck.  It also sported a couple of horns at the side of it’s head but it was definitely bigger than how I’ve seen Deacy’s dragon form.  The other dragon was smaller than the first and almost appeared like a cross between dragon and an owl.

It’s owl-like face sported a crown of horns and fins kinda like a lionfish and it’s scales consisted mainly orange and brown.

The two dragons circled around me and Cass who was holding me close to him as the two of us had ducked down so that we wouldn’t be blown away by the wind gust that I knew dragons had.  They both let out roars as they finally hovered over us, and what was shocking to see with the owl-like dragon was that it’s two large wings suddenly split into four wings.

It tilted it’s head in a straight vertical line as it’s huge golden eyes stared directly at me.  It turned towards the bigger dragon grumbling out a low roar, almost as if they were speaking to each other.  The bigger dragon glared down at me with hateful eyes as it let out a low growl before roaring down at me.

Both Cass and I covered our ears at the agonizing loudness of the roar.  But what we didn’t know was that suddenly appearing out of the woods was another dragon. However compared to the two others, it was more of a giant serpent.  Cass turned around and suddenly there was just the force of being knocked forward before I found myself in the clutches of this serpent dragon.

I soon found myself being flown hundreds of feet into the air and I looked up at the black and gold dragon that now had me in it’s claws.  I soon heard the sound of grunting and I looked down towards the tail and saw Cass hanging on for dear life.

He placed his finger to his lips trying not to let me give away his cover but the large black dragon huffed and roared at the dragon that had me as its attention turned towards Cass.

The giant serpent dragon then whipped it’s whip-like tail trying to get Cass off of him.  Cass tried to hold on as best as he could but all it took was just three whips to finally send him flying back down to earth.

“NOOO!!! CASS!!!” I cried out as he got smaller and smaller before I finally lost him as me and the dragons flew higher and higher. Due to the insane air pressure the higher we flew, I must’ve ended up passing out because next thing I saw was nothing but darkness and I kept muttering Cass’s name as well as Sam’s, Dean’s and Deacon’s.

*3rd Person POV*

Cass fell about 1000 feet straight back down towards the forest and the second he fell to the ground, the only thing he saw were the three giant figures of the dragons flying away from him.

“(Y/n)……no, no (y/n)…..” he tried to get up but his body was in pain from the sudden impact, the last thing he saw were the dragons taking away his dear friend.

As the dragons continued flying higher and higher beyond the clouds.  The owl-like dragon’s eyes did something that no other dragon’s could do.  They suddenly glowed pure gold and suddenly appearing out in the air was a portal.  

One by one each of the dragons flew through the portal and once the serpent like dragon’s full body went through it, the portal closed and disappeared, just as quickly as it had appeared.

The dragons now came upon a series of mountain cliffs filled with nothing but greenery and sea water.  They flew through the mountain terrain through the entrance of a cave until finally arriving at a nesting area within the mountain.

Hundreds of dragons soon awoke from their slumber to see the three dragons reenter the picture with a human intact.  The serpent dragon gently set (y/n) down before backing away.  The owl-like dragon soon came up and as it walked toward (y/n) it changed from a dragon to human as did the other two.

As (y/n) was slowly coming around, she groaned and looked up and through a blurry vision, she saw a man staring down at her with a tuff of short brown hair, the scruff of a beard going all over his face and deep blue eyes staring down at her.  She heard the low rumble of dragon growls before she passed out once more.

“Is she dead?” The brown haired dragon turned towards the other two.  One was an Egyptian man with short black hair, a strong jawline and blue eyes much like the owl-like dragon has in his human form but not quite as deep.  The other male who had asked the question had messy, curly blond hair and had greenish eyes.

He was more strongly built and he just seemed to have the Alpha-like stance and attitude, and around his face were old faded battle scars.  The dragon who was standing over (y/n) then answered.

“No, humans don’t have the compacity to withstand sudden high altitude elevation. She’ll live though.”

“Good. Wouldn’t be too sporty of me to kill her if she’s already dead.”

“Easy Warren, we know how you feel about humans but there’s questions that need to be answered.” Spoke the Egyptian.

“Apophis is right. Like who she is and why she’s swarmed with Deacon’s scent.” Answered the brunette.

[araby-bizarre]

keep your name

In reaction to the secret revealed in 2x10. Nicole may not be hiding any revenants in her closet, but she does have skeletons of her own.

Unpacking Nicole's marriage, and why she chose to keep things hid.

“What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

The question is barely out of Waverly’s mouth before Nicole realizes that she should tell her. She thinks about the adrenaline of scaling a rock face, of falling from the same height. She thinks about prairie fire shots and Britney Live and unashamed declarations of love in a hotel stairwell. Being honest for the first time in lying to herself. Kitschy Vegas chapels--

She wonders if she’ll ever get the timing right, because now isn’t it. Not with Waverly smiling up at her for the first time since Willa and that night at the Wainwright. Let’s play twenty questions, she’d suggested, desperate for a distraction.

Every time Nicole tries to give her one, really, something else seems to come up. Kidnappings, long-lost sisters, revenants. Her own skeletons feel so pedestrian in comparison that she’s not sure they’ll ever fully have a place here. That she’ll ever have a place here. But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least try.

(Unlike the last time. A morning after in Nevada with the imitation of affection already paling in the light of the dawn.)

So, instead, she rolls up her sleeve and shows Waverly the poppies tattooed on the inside of her right bicep. She tells her about her grandmother, and the one time in her life that her grief felt so massive that she needed a forever reminder inked into her skin.

The truth will come eventually, she tells herself, though her heart doesn’t walk back from its nauseatingly erratic beat.

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Her sister has a proper wedding. She’s married by a priest in one of the small, ornately decorated chapels of their youth. The pews creak and the windows are stained with the images of saints. Hayley wears white like the good Christian virgin her parents believe her to be. Nicole, on the other hand, is forced to wear a monstrosity of a peach-colored dress that she’s honestly considering burning by the night’s end, as well as a pair of cowboy boots that her sister had absolutely insisted on (for the pictures).

She wanted to protest, but she knows how much this all means to Hayley. And she is maid of honor. Nicole couldn’t deny her even if she wanted to.

It’s selfish, but the whole time, she can’t help but notice the way her parents refuse to look at her. No doubt, they’d argued with Hayley over Nicole’s place in the wedding in the first place. But at the end of the day, they couldn’t deny their firstborn anything either. She was the favorite, after all.

She drinks a little too much at the reception. One of the other bridesmaids had promised to drive her home afterwards, so it’s no worry. It’s just not really her style--getting blind drunk at family functions, tripping over herself on the way to the bathroom. She’s always maintained more of a sense of decorum than that. But when she stumbles through the door and her mother is there washing her hands, unable to even pass her a glance--she just can’t help herself.

They’re throwing rice at the beaming newlyweds when it dawns on her, drunk or not: she really did make a mistake.

Nicole doesn’t need the church. She doesn’t need a white gown or a big party. But she does need someone who can love her the way she’s always dreamt of being loved: nice and gentle, without any of the perfunctory bits. Nice and earnest.

She sends a text to Shae later that night.

           This isn’t going to work, is it?

The text is read. Three dots bubble up at the bottom of the screen, then stop. After a long moment, she responds.

           Probably not.

Then, just as quickly.

           Do you regret it?

Nicole hesitates. She knows it was a mistake. She used to think two years was too soon to get married to somebody. But she and Shae had barely known each for two months when they ran off to Nevada together.

Nevertheless, she’s surprised by the clarity of her answer.

           No, I don’t.

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Nicole tells herself she is very drunk that night after the show, but the truth is, she isn’t. She’s had a few shots of tequila but not nearly as many as Shae. She abstains on purpose, because she wants to remember what it’s like to be touched by a beautiful woman in public with a clear head.

Every time Shae places a hand on the small of her back or her thigh, or weaves her fingers through her hair during a dizzying kiss, she can’t help but think of everything she’s left behind to have this.

It’s confusing. Equal parts anger and resentment at her parents for casting her aside the moment she came out, for telling her that she was wrong and that she’d failed them and tarnished the Haught name. But there is also the thrill of doing something she’s always been told was wrong. The sadness of realizing the fault in that logic to begin with. And the residual fear of being seen.

All these things at once. Feelings she’s tried so desperately in the past year to escape. Moving in with Hayley had provided temporary shelter. Acceptance into the academy had helped more, given her an out and something to be proud of at the same time. But nothing has been more of a salve than Shae.

Being admired by Shae. Appreciated by Shae. Touched by Shae.

Her head is swimming. They’re pawing at each other in the hotel stairwell, bathed in an unflattering and painful fluorescent light. She reaches for the hem of Shae’s skirt and the other woman stills her wrist, smiling gently.

“I have an idea.”

She knows Nicole has something to prove. She’s a bit lonely herself, a bit out of place. But she can count on the fact that Nicole Haught isn’t a quitter. That she isn’t a coward and she doesn’t like to be told how to live her life.

“We can prove everybody wrong,” she’s whispering to her in the taxicab. “Nobody gets to decide how we feel.”

It’s a silly thing. A simple thing. But nobody had ever really told Nicole she was allowed to think for herself before, let alone feel.

That notion alone is enough to spark a flame.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hadn’t she told Wynonna she couldn’t lie to Waverly? She has to wonder how things can fall apart so quickly.

It happens like this:

There’s panic first. Waverly tries hard to hide it, but she lets her guard down late at night. In the dark, in Nicole’s bed.

“Ward never loved me,” she says with absolute certainty. “I don’t know that he hated me, but he definitely didn’t love me.” Nicole holds her tighter. There’s so much she wants to say. Sometimes, she waits and waits for her turn, but she feels like it doesn’t arrive. Waverly’s confessions often come with a heaviness that leaves little room for her own secrets. She holds them inside, instead. Allows them to smother her.

“What Willa felt--that was hatred.” Her voice is so small and shattered, Nicole feels herself splintering beneath the implication. I won’t add to this, she tells herself. Not now. How could I?

After the panic, there is false bravado. There is the best of intentions.

The DNA results arrive at the police station and the envelope is an oppressive weight in her hand. She thinks of the way Waverly’s heart is already so broken, before she’s even gotten her answer. She thinks of how Wynonna might react. How there’s already so much wrong happening.

I need to know how to make this better, she thinks. Because Nicole has let a lot of people down in her life. She’s still letting them down, whether they know it or not. And she wants to do just one thing right. But the only way it seems she can do that is by opening that envelope.

It feels immediately wrong. Like that morning after, with a ring on her finger. Except the enormity of this particular mistake makes her feel like that same finger might remain bare for a long time to come.

She debates resealing the envelope, but remembers that Waverly is entirely too smart for that. Instead, she tucks it into her purse, puts on a brave face, and resolves to deliver the news when the moment is right.

Of course, something comes up. (Something always comes up.)

Nicole is suddenly helping to plan a baby shower, hanging the piñata and sampling cocktails, and it’s just too normal. Too normal for the envelope that’s hidden in her purse. Too normal for the way her heart clenches and sings liar liar liar.

She hates herself when Waverly walks out on her. Hates the way she seems so made for mistakes.

Later on, alone in her bed, she thinks her parents were wrong about many, many things. Their ideology and their prejudice, undoubtedly. The way they clung to their own marriage, duty-bound, though the love had left them so long ago. They were wrong about all of it.

But maybe, she worries, they weren’t entirely wrong about her.

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“I have to ask you something.”

“Well, that sounds important.”

Nicole sits in her cruiser, picking nervously at a loose thread sticking out of the seam of her pants. The heater blasts, reddening her cheeks and nose.

“It is.”

“Then, of course. What’s up?” Shae has that tone--friendly and warm, yet still mildly professional. Clinical. She always sounds that way on the phone, as if every call were something of a business call.

“Is it wrong of me, to start seeing someone else?”

“What?” Nicole can picture the look on her face perfectly, brow all pinched in confusion. “Why would it be wrong?”

“Because we’re still married.”

“Separated, Nicole,” Shae sighs.

“Yes, well. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t actually. It’s all on paper now. We agreed to that. It’s normal to see other people.”

“Right.”

There’s more that she wants to say. Shae, distant as she may be from her now, can still sense it. She never did have trouble reading her, even in the very beginning. (Or the very end--they were one in the same.)

“Why are you really asking?” Her voice is softer this time, less the doctor, and more the ex. More the friend.

“I don’t know,” Nicole huffs, frustrated with herself as always. “I guess I just felt like I needed your permission.”

There’s a long pause. Nicole worries that she’s said the wrong thing--not for the first time. She’s been saying a lot of the wrong things lately. Between her family and her soon-to-be-ex-wife and the girl she’s patently not-dating (her reason for calling today).

Shae is a little bit quieter then. There’s a bite to her words, but it isn’t aimed at Nicole. “You don’t need my permission, Nicole. You don’t need anyone’s permission. I wish you would understand that.”

The embarrassment hits her first. Shae isn’t wrong, she knows. But old habits die hard.

There’s a long moment of silence before the other woman asks, more curiosity than anything else, “So, who is she?”

There are so many heady adjectives that cross her mind, though none of them seem to fit. She catches herself smiling softly in the rearview as she simply answers, “She’s something else.”

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The haze of the venom coursing through her veins is unrelenting. It makes her feel like her entire body is being turned inside out, all at once. There’s so much pressure in her head, behind her eyes. Nicole didn’t even realize pain like this could exist.

Yet in spite of the heaviness of it all, some things appear so clearly now.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Thoughts like too much and too soon no longer seem to matter. Because this is the end, isn’t it? And if it is, she needs Waverly to know--there would never be anybody else for her.

Waverly caresses her cheek, fingertips cold and eyes fraught with fear. Her touch is sheer ruination. Nicole has never felt anything so liberating in her entire life.

There are worse ways to go, she’s sure. It’s what she tells herself as she slips under, Waverly’s promises resting squarely in the cradle of her chest.

She’s there waiting for her, when Nicole comes to later. Disoriented, at first, and with a confusing lack of pain. That must be what comes after, Nicole realizes: relief. Except that that seems far too nice compared to what her parents had told her she should expect.

“Waverly?” Her voice is groggy, throat a little achy still from the Widow’s iron grip, but she feels blessedly okay otherwise.

Waverly cries happy tears, and despite what she keeps referring to as a miracle, Nicole still feels too fragile not to cry herself. Death wasn’t as scary as she’d thought it would be (a realization that’s a bit alarming in and of itself), but it had been lonely in its own way. She’s not sure she’s ever been so grateful to have Waverly holding her hand.

With all the shock and happiness and relief, she’s not sure what to make of it when Wynonna bursts into the room brandishing her cure, somehow an hour too late, and the mood in the room grows so immediately cold that Waverly runs from it, from them both.

The older Earp stands there for a few moments, jaw clenched tightly, before tossing the vial at Nicole. Caught off guard, she just barely manages to catch it, bandages all on display.

“You know I wouldn’t have let you die, right?” Wynonna’s voice is gruff. But there’s a despairing sense of insecurity hidden beneath the edge of it that leaves Nicole at something of a loss.

“You did save me, Wynonna.” It’s a dumb thing to say, she supposes. But Wynonna came through for her. She would’ve come through for her, had the venom finished the job.

“I tried,” Wynonna replies, voice tight. “But I guess I was a little too late. Again.”

She’s out of the room so quickly then that Nicole couldn’t stop her even if she tried. Instead, she settles back into the bed, confused and a little anxious over this unexpected change in mood.

There’s really no such thing as miracles, Nicole knows. Especially not in Purgatory, where even the plainly unexplainable seems to come with thorough cause and effect.

She’s struggling to come up with an appropriate text to Waverly--What happened? seems far too vague and Are you okay? far too obvious--when there comes a knock on the doorframe.

Shae was never one to look sheepish or uncertain, but she does appear somewhat awkward standing there now.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Nicole teases, though her heart isn’t in it.

Shae takes a few long strides into the room, keeping a respectable distance between herself and the bed. “I heard you were awake. And cured.”

Nicole meets her quizzical gaze. “Miraculously.”

Shae frowns. “As a doctor, I find that a little hard to believe.”

The anti-venom is still clutched in Nicole’s fist. She holds on a little tighter and lies. “I’m kidding. There was an anti-venom.”

She doesn’t look any further convinced, but wisely chooses not to comment. Shae has always been good at that--better than Nicole. Stepping forward, she asks, “What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into up here?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nicole.” Shae is too smart for her own good. Like someone else she knows. She does have a type, after all. “I know you’re something of a magnet for this kind of thing, but couldn’t you at least try to keep yourself safe? We may not be together anymore, but I don’t relish these calls from the hospital.”

“You really didn’t need to come,” Nicole tells her, voice quieter. She’s having troubling meeting Shae’s eyes, all of a sudden.

Shae chuckles in disbelief. “I did.” She takes one step closer, placing her hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “But you’re okay now?”

Nicole swallows. “I think I am.”

Shae’s stubborn, in her own way. She hates not knowing. And it’s hard for her now, Nicole is sure, sensing that there’s more to the story but instead ceding to her own ignorance. “I should get going then. I can’t be away from work any longer than necessary.”

“I understand,” Nicole nods.

“Just… text me when you’re home, so I know there were no complications.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

Shae squeezes her shoulder one last time and heads for the door. She stops before leaving, and turns. “You were right, by the way.”

“Hmm?” Nicole asks, her mind already elsewhere.

“Waverly,” she smiles approvingly. “She is something else.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nicole bites back a curse as she rifles through her top dresser drawer, searching for a matching pair of socks. As of late, Calamity has taken to stealing them out of her laundry basket and hiding them around the house, leaving her drawer a mismatched hodgepodge of orphaned socks.

It’s too early in the morning for this kind of hassle. She was feeling particularly bitter about leaving her bed to begin with, given who had been sleeping beside her. But she’d known it would be like this last night when they weren’t sleeping. She only has herself to blame.

Finally, Nicole spies what she hopes to be a matching pair. They are, to her relief, but as her hand closes around them, she feels a small bulge in the toe that gives her pause. Confused, she shakes it out into the palm of her hand, the memory coming back to her.

She stopped wearing her wedding band the day she accepted the job in Purgatory. Yet there it had sat, on the bedside table of the old apartment for weeks. Nicole hadn’t a clue what she should do with it.

She considered pawning it but eventually settled against it. It was a bittersweet token and a reminder of her own foolishness, but not necessarily something she wanted to forget. During the move, she’d hidden it in a sandwich baggie and stuffed it deep into one of the boxes marked bedroom.

The day she arrived at the new house, she was fairly overwhelmed. Not just by the newness of this small town or the anxiety of starting in a new position fresh out of the academy, but by the scope of making this place a home, all by herself.

Nicole drank too much wine, as she was sometimes wont to do. By the time she got to the bedroom, she could only partially remember how things had been organized. And the ring? She couldn’t remember finding that (or losing it) at all.

She’s a little shocked to see it now--an intruder in this comfortable bubble that she and Waverly have come to inhabit. For several moments, she can only stare at it, then back over her shoulder at the girl sleeping soundly in her bed. Nicole hadn’t necessarily been trying to keep these two worlds, these two parts of herself separate. But she’s surprised to find now that this overlap, minor as it may be, is somewhat comforting.

Calamity Jane meows just outside the doorway, impatiently waiting to be fed.

“Calm down,” Nicole mutters. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Satisfied, Calamity pads away as Nicole places the ring back into one of her misfit socks. She finishes dressing with an odd sense of calm before sitting at the edge of the bed. Very gently, she leans down to press a kiss to the crown of Waverly’s head.

Immediately, the other woman stirs, as if from some sort of sixth sense. She glances up at Nicole, all sleep mussed and red in the cheeks, eyes barely open.

“Work?”

“Mhm. You should go back to sleep though. I just wanted to say bye.”

“Okay.” Waverly already seems to be drifting off again as she pulls Nicole down for a short kiss. “Bye.”

“Bye, baby.” Nicole hesitates for a moment, hand in Waverly’s hair. She thinks about the ring again, about the mistakes that she’s made. She’ll learn to right them, in time. But for now, this will more than do.

“I hope you make yourself at home,” she says quietly, getting up to leave. She really means it.