#wearp fanfiction

[wayhaughtficrec]

[haughtshotgun]

Bright Lights and Cityscapes: Toronto

The first chapter of the Bright Lights and Cityscapes saga is up on AO3! Please go give it a read and tell me what you think. I’ve had this idea for two years and I am so happy to be in a place where I can finally work on it! As always, shout out to @luckiegambino​ for being the best beta and telling me when I make zero sense. You are the true MVP. Enjoy everyone!

Bright Light and Cityscapes

Part One: Toronto

Chapter One: Someone New

Summary:

“Nicole Haught is a Toronto Firefighter in a complicated relationship with a traveling surgeon. Waverly Earp is an artist spending a year in the city while she completes an internship. Both have battle wounds and scars set deep from pasts of pain and tragedy. Together they learn more about love, growth, and themselves. Some lessons though, are learned too late.”

[hotchocolateandablanket]

September 8th. 

Every night I wake up, and my hand naturally reaches for yours in the dark. And every time, all it finds is your empty pillow. I try not to cry, Waverly, but each night it gets a little harder. I guess the hardest part is not knowing how long the wait is going to last. Am I almost done, or just halfway through? Not knowing is what is killing me inside. I’m not even sure your pillow still smells like you. And I’m afraid. Afraid of not remembering... what you smell like, what you taste like, what you feel like. I still have faith though, because I know you’re still alive, somewhere. And I will never give up on the idea of us reuniting. I will never give up on you. 

Happy birthday, Waves. Wherever you are, I hope you know how much I love you. 

~ Nicole

gif from: @earpwaverly​

[zofiecfield]

an honor and a privilege (Wynonna Earp ficlet)

As has become her custom over many restless nights, she slips out of bed silently. She checks the traps, savoring the bite of the cold, glad for a different reason to be awake. Inside, she sheds her layers, warms the tea, and settles by the fire. Pen to paper, for the hundredth time.

Waves,

It is a privilege to love you and an honor to be loved by you.

An honor to be trusted, an honor to be asked for forever.

A privilege to say yes.

yes.

Yours, now and always,

Nicole

It is a privilege to love Waverly Earp. No, it was a privilege to love her. Past tense. A privilege she had earned. A privilege she had lost.

Lover, wife, someday mother.

They built a bridge, side by side, a labor of love to carry them to that future. She craves it, feels it like a shadow, always present, always apart, never quite hers for the keeping. They built a bridge in the light, but she made deals in the darkness that wouldn’t end, utterly devoid of hope, promises that sickened her then and bring to her knees begging now. She is desperate to shed what she has done, desperate to peel it off, layers of skin that writhe. Acid in her stomach, on her teeth, corroding the metal. Every step now, she can hear the flakes of rust as they come away beneath her and plummet. If they continue to walk, hand in hand, across this bridge, it is only a matter of time. The bridge will crumble and she deserves the fall, she knows, but hand in hand, she won’t fall alone. She can’t forgive herself the risk.

Lover, wife, someday mother.

She could break Waverly’s heart in one fell swoop, tell her the truth about what she’s done, tell her what is coming. She could let the future take its new shape, ugly and so much dimmer than it had been, barely masked as it is now. But, her own heart is already so heavy, battered and homesick for a time that was and a time that was going to be. Her own can’t bear to watch another’s heart shatter.

So she breaks it slowly, fractures it with each hesitation, with each answer she avoids. Worse this way, surely, more painful now and in the long run, and harder to forgive. Worse, surely, but it buys her time. She digs in her heels and begs for enough friction, enough strength to halt what she set in motion, to turn back and return to her course. Heels worn so thin already from the miles walked alone, body so tired from the weight born, heart already resigned.

To be loved by Waverly Earp forever would have been an honor and a privilege.

She folds the note into neat quarters. Runs her nail over each seam, over and over until the paper gives way. Leans forward and feeds it to the flame.

Steps on the stairs now. Hand brushing across her shoulders, lips to her neck. Come back to bed.

She leans into the touch, takes the hand, follows her upstairs. To do this every night, to walk hand in hand into peaceful darkness, heaven she had dreamed of, heaven she had nearly held.

She blinks back the regret, the longing for this moment in another time. Breathes deeply and tries to be here, to be present. Tries, for one more moment, to forget.

[ive-got-a-taser]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wynonna Earp (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught Characters: Waverly Earp, Nicole Haught, Wynonna Earp, Chrissy Nedley Additional Tags: High School AU, Sadie Hawkins Dance, nicole is an idiot, and she's oblivious af, Mild Shirtlessness, waves has a plan, wynonna's bad at metaphors, but she's got the spirit, earp sister bonding, dash of assholery, spicy truth or dare, lesbian abs, Gorillaz - Freeform Summary:

Waverly has a plan to ask her best friend-slash-crush to the Sadie Hawkins dance taking place on Valentine's Day.

If only Nicole would stop being so goddamn oblivious.

-

Also known as, Nicole Just Doesn't Get It.

[igotopigfarts]

Chapter 60: The Last Flame

This is it y’all... the last installment.  What a year it’s been.  Thank you to everyone who read it, stuck through through it, and.... yeah.  It’s been a pleasure.  Until next time, my friends.  

[haught-n-cold-gay]

le réel

A Wynonna Earp (Wynsita) one-shot that can also be read on AO3

“Don’t.”

Rosita stared at her, startled by the other woman’s inability to look her in the eyes (instead she gazed gauntly at her glass of whiskey). Wynonna, for the whole time that she knew her, had always been stubborn and courageous. And yet it was this that she was still hung up on.

“This was our plan,” the bartender argued, her words clinging to the back of her throat desperately, trying to not get emotional.

With all the energy she could muster, Wynonna finally looked up at her, showing her red and glassy eyes. “Not anymore.”

Rosita groaned miserably and set the shot glass she was holding down onto the bar, shattering it into thousands of little pieces. The Heir didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t keep changing your mind. We decided this years ago. You can’t just back out because you're…”

Wynonna’s eyes flashed with fury as she said, “Because what? Because I’m terrified? Because I’m a pussy? Because I’ve become too soft?”

Rosita bit her lip and felt words try to come out of her mouth that came from her heart. Words that would calm and comfort the other woman. Words that would… No. She wouldn’t let them get out. Anger was easier. She could fake it without any problem.

“Yeah,” she lied. “Maybe it’s all of the above. You have become ignorant. You think I’ll just follow along with whatever you say. Well, I won’t. I have a choice. Fuck, Wy, it’s my goddamn choice.”

Wynonna wiped her tears and crossed her arms. She obviously didn’t agree. There was no way that she was giving in. Not now. Not ever.

“I have the final say, Ros. You know I do. You can’t do this without me.”

Rosita knew that the brunette was technically right, but she did not back down. Not in the slightest. She knew Wynonna as well as anyone (probably better than anyone). She knew how her blood boiled.

The Revenant twitched and almost made the sound of a growl as her eyes turned red for the first time in years.

On instinct, Wynonna reached for Peacemaker, her heart almost stopping as it happened. She gripped the gun and felt as it warmed beneath her fingers. The gun wanted to fire, but Wynonna didn’t. She couldn’t shoot.

Rosita noticed her resistance and roared louder, her hands crushing the glass, blood spilling from them as if she couldn’t feel a thing. She leaned forward, snarling. She wanted Wynonna to see the monster.

With a darker, almost fake voice, Rosita muttered, “I’ll kill your child and eat her. I’ll enjoy it.”

Wynonna felt her hands move without her thinking. She rose the gun to the Revenant’s forehead, making Peacemaker light up blue. Her hands were shaking and tears flowed freely from her eyes.

“Do it!” The Revenant screamed, her voice sounding demonic and oh-so un-Rosita like. “Pull the trigger.”

Wynonna drew back the hammer and noticed as the Revenant flinched before closing her eyes. She didn’t want to see Wynonna pull the trigger. With closed eyes, all that was left of her was human in the Heir’s eyes. It was Rosita. She lowered Peacemaker and waited for the woman to realize what she hadn't done.

Slowly, Rosita opened her eyes at the persistent silence and all she saw was the guilt in the brunette’s eyes. She couldn’t do it.

“Wynonna—”

“No,” Wynonna stated breathlessly as she shook her head, feeling the urge to throw up after how close she had come to pulling the trigger. “No. Not today.”

Rosita whispered with sudden gentleness, “When, then, baby?”

The Heir glared at her and answered, “How does never sound?”

“You promised—”

“I can’t do it!” Wynonna yelled, interrupting her with ferocity and desperation. “I can’t pull the trigger. Not on you.”

Rosita’s inner urge was to move out from behind the distance of the bar and wrap her arms around the woman she had spent years with. She had to fight it. Caring for her would just make it harder.

“First, we decided you would do it when all the other Revenants were dead,” Rosita started to list. “Then, it was when you turned turn thirty-three. And now it’s today. Ali’s birthday. She’s seven, babe. We can’t keep delaying it.”

“We can,” Wynonna argued furiously. “I need more time.”

“No! We can’t risk it. We can’t do this to Ali. We can’t be selfish.”

“You can’t expect me to just kill my daughter’s other parent! You can’t!” Wynonna clasped the side of the bar, barely feeling steady anymore. She felt nauseous and empty and all she wanted was to hold Alice and Rosita and never let go.

The Revenant faltered for a second. She knew this would be difficult, but she didn’t think that it would be impossible. Though, after years of Wynonna pushing this back, she shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“So, what? You let me live and wait for Alice to get the curse so that she has to be the one that kills me? Even you know that’s fucked up.”

Alice was the most important thing to Wynonna. But Rosita? She’d been there for her ever since Wynonna found her in a tunnel, consumed by her own mind from her last trip to Hell. Wynonna took care of her, surprising everyone, and even more herself and her new partner. Rosita slowly wormed her way into the brunette’s heart and found her place at the homestead, helping her fight the rest of the Revenants and get ready to bring her daughter home. After Wynonna, Doc, and Waverly, Rosita was the first to hold Alice. And she was always there while she grew up.

“I don’t— I can't!”

“Do it for Alice,” Rosita begged. “Give her a normal life that we didn’t get to have. Please.”

“She needs you,” Wynonna sobbed. “I can’t do this without you.”

Rosita felt her heart sink and break into thousands of pieces like the glass that had carved into her skin. She was failing and the more they talked, the more she wanted to give up too. She had to try a new tactic.

“I shouldn’t have let you help me or moved in with you. What’s wrong with you to make you want to take care of a Revhead? You got your sis and Doc back and you wanted to spend time with me . Your enemy. I shouldn’t have fought by your side, killing my own kind. You let your enemy into your life and your bed and your home. Who lets their enemy help raise their child? I shouldn’t have agreed to any of it. It’s fucking pathetic.”

Wynonna knew what Rosita was trying to do, but the words still hurt. She felt them burn and fester in her chest before they exploded.

“I have two curses. Not only do I have to send seventy-seven Revenants back to Hell, but I also have to kill the woman I love. It’s a motherfucking tragedy.”

Love. It had never been said out loud. Not during the late-night snuggling and movies, epic battles against the things that go bump in the dark, passionate sex in the morning, shower kisses, bedtime stories with Alice, or any of their other daily moments spent together. They were two broken women who mended together while raising a daughter. Their love was unspoken.

The truth was, Rosita didn’t want to die. She wanted to grow old with Wynonna, get married, maybe even pop out a few more kids. But the more time they spent together, the harder the inevitability became. For Alice to be free, Rosita had to die. And there was nothing she could do about that.

Wynonna walked around the bar and found the woman stiff and uninviting as she reached out for her.

“Don’t touch me, Wynonna.”

Of course, Wynonna didn’t listen. She tried to touch her, but Rosita kept moving away. Eventually, after a few minutes of dodging her, Wynonna cornered her to a wall and Rosita had nowhere else to go. Finally, the Heir grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace. Like a switch turned off, the Revenant began to sob on Wynonna’s shoulder, unable to hold it in any longer.

Wynonna was right. It was a motherfucking tragedy.

“I’m so sorry,” Wynonna apologized into Rosita’s neck and breathed the woman in, trying to take in as much of her as she could. “I know I said I would do it, but…”

“I know,” Rosita croaked with hopelessness. She knew that Wynonna couldn’t do it. She loved her for it. She hated her for it. “I know, baby.”

Wynonna knew that she wasn’t being fair. To Rosita or her own daughter. She knew that she was the bad guy, here. But she knew nothing would make her pull the trigger.

“We’ll find a different solution,” the Heir promised her, her voice trying to sound sure even though she wasn’t. “We’ll end the curse another way. We’ll get the gang together so we can figure this out. You can stay with me and you’ll never have to go to Hell again. I’ll take care of you.”

Rosita knew that there wasn’t another way to end the curse, but she couldn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want to break Wynonna’s heart. She didn’t want to tell the woman that she loved that they would have to come back to this in a few years time. That at some point Wynonna had to point and shoot.

But in the meantime, they could pretend that she wouldn’t have to. They would love and love and love until the day came and it would all end.

[awol-newt]

soon the fog will clear

Summary: Even though she knows that this, too, will pass, her dark days linger. Sadness still wraps its way around Belle's heart and mind and soul, and even if her family can't make things magically good again, they can make things better. Little by little.

A follow-up to can i be the kid for your soul to keep?.

For @parliament-of-owlets.

[sweeterthankarma]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wynonna Earp (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Xavier Dolls/Wynonna Earp Characters: Wynonna Earp, Xavier Dolls Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor Summary:

Anonymous requested: "Sometimes when sleep is hard to come by Wynonna and Dolls will play alternating 20 questions in the dark of their room."

As soon as I got this prompt in my inbox, I immediately started writing it despite already being in the middle of another fic! This fic turned out a lot more humor-based than I originally planned it to be, but it was a lot of fun to write especially after how grim most of the scenarios we saw Wynonna and Dolls in canon were. Besides, it's impossible to write Wynonna and not include quips, and some of these quips are impossible not to run with! To the anon that requested, I hope you enjoy because I certainly enjoyed writing it.

[the-battle-lesbian]

Bulshar in canon: Wants to find Garden of Eden, likely to create demon paradise on Earth.

Bulshar in We Carry The Fire: Wants to open the gates of Hell, to create demon paradise on Earth.

Emily Andras and I are brain twins it’s official.

[lumberwoof]

Job Placement (Nicole, Dolls)

Nicole Haught has a personal case she's been investigating for years, and now her investigation has attracted some unwanted attention. Pre-Series.

a fun little 'what-if' Nicole Haught backstory. minor spoilers for the season 2 finale.

cross-posted on AO3

The truth is that Nicole Haught has been investigating the Cult of Bulshar since she was a teenager, when she found a strange collection of photos of a well-dressed man with a black-jeweled ring in a shoebox belonging to her father. . Before her parents sent her to live with her grandmother, when they silently said she wasn't welcome back with their heavy eyes and wooden expressions.

It's what pulls her through college, what drives her to pursue a major in Criminal Justice, it's why she takes a gap year to travel to the places where there's been rumours of cult activity.

It's why there's a tall man in a suit waiting inside her apartment when she comes home one day from academy training. He's an intruder, but he makes no means to hide himself - he's attempting to exude authority, authority that overwrites the day-to-day laws she lives by, works by even.

"Nicole Haught," he addresses her without preamble. No smile, no scowl, just a flat expression.

Don’t escalate the situation, she thinks. Eyes running over the lines of his suit to see if there’s the bulk of a holstered gun underneath. There is, at his hip. She’s at a disadvantage.

"Who are you?"

"Deputy Marshall Dolls, Black Badge Division," he produces a badge from his suit, holds it out towards her - not to look, but to take.

She closes the distance warily, stretching her arm to take the badge and inspect it up close. U.S. Marshall, but the badge isn't gold, it's charcoal. Fitting, she thinks, for something called the Black Badge Division. If it’s a fake, it’s a very, very good one. There’s no indication it’s been forged other than her complete unfamiliarity with the division, but there are two flags - Canadian and American - cut in half and spliced together to make a single one.

Cross-border.

She memorizes his badge number.

"Never heard of your division," Nicole says, handing the badge back. "But I assume that's the way it's supposed to be."

This does bring something resembling the barest hints of a smile to his lips. "Something like that," he says, tucking his badge away and bringing his hands behind his back again. He's standing at ease. Former soldier. "Your investigation into the Cult of Bulshar has attracted some attention in the agency."

Her investigation is a secret. They both know this. So they've been keeping tabs on her for a while. It also means Black Badge is more of an intelligence agency than a law enforcement agency, but she already figured that by the suit. Regardless, corruption is a common stain on both, and she isn't sure that her investigation catching the attention of an agency she's never heard of is a good thing. Not when it comes to a cult that spans countries and infects people from all walks of life.

Her personal gun is in the safe on the other side of the room - Deputy Marshall Dolls is in the middle of the path from her to it.

"What of it?" she asks.

The Deputy Marshall steps back, towards the kitchen table where a bunch of folders are stacked. He starts spreading them out, opening one and placing it on the edge nearest her, so she can see. "We're impressed. You're thorough. We want to extend an offer."

"An offer for me? Or for my research?" Nicole asks.

Dolls purses his lips, as if he's thinking about an answer, and in that moment, Nicole realizes that he can't be much older than her, maybe by a year or two. He's new at this stuff, too, and she might be able to press an upper hand if she plays her cards right.

"I want to extend an offer," he corrects, and she pauses. "My superiors don't see the cult as a threat, but I believe they're wrong. And I believe your investigation shows that."

"And what do you want from me?"

"Cooperation," Dolls says easily. "I could deputise you to be my partner, but you're more help if the agency doesn't think you're associated with me."

Working outside the bounds of what seems like a federal agency sounds like a bad time. Sounds like grounds for treason. But if Dolls isn’t lying, then Nicole is so close to finding out the truth. Hell, even if Dolls is lying, his appearance means something - that, she believes - and she's determined to follow this lead to the ends of the earth.

"Okay, say I agree to work with you, what did you have in mind?"

"Your investigation is good, but it's missing a few pieces that Black Badge had access to, I put everything together and found the epicentre," Dolls taps the open folder on the kitchen table. "You can also feel free to arm yourself if it makes you feel safer," he says, gesturing to the gun safe. "I'm here to be an ally, not an enemy."

Nicole strides past him, warily, and opens her gun safe. Inside, there's her personal sidearm, a Walther PP she'd procured one afternoon after a girlfriend, at the time, had joked about her being lesbian James Bond. Next to it is a government issue Glock, with a tactical flashlight attached to the underbarrel. There's two silencers, unattached, stored safely. Three boxes of new ammunition sit on a separate shelf.

"A gift," Dolls says.

She takes the Walther and slides in a clip that’s already been loaded, gently tucking it into the back of her pants.

"This epicentre?" she asks, bringing them back to their previous conversation, now that she feels a bit more in control.

Dolls nods to the open folder again, and she walks towards the kitchen table, skimming over the contents.

"Basically, I'd like you to get a position at the Sheriff's Department here. But don't be too obvious about it. It's a small town that doesn't get a lot of outsiders. Make it look like the Sheriff recruited you, not the other way around. I can pull some strings to help with that."

"I still haven't finished academy," Nicole says absent-mindedly as she looks over the final pieces she's been missing. Things start to fall into place, but something still doesn't seem quite right, doesn't seem humanly possible about what she's reading. "And I was going to take the summer off after, before I was placed anywhere."

It was going to be her first time traveling just for the fun of it, without being driven by her investigation. I was going to go rock-climbing in Nevada, she thinks.

"Don't change your plans. It'll be good for your cover, to not look too eager. There's nothing in that town except coyotes, demons, and a bad hockey team."

She looks up sharply at the word demons, wondering if she'd misheard. He must've been making a joke, but he sounded so serious. Dolls starts to collect the folders though, as if he didn't say anything out of the ordinary, stuffing them all into a briefcase with the exception of the one he's left her to read.

He pulls a burner phone from his jacket and places it on the table. "Contact me through this when you get there," he says firmly. Then, "Good day, Cadet."

When he stands briefly at attention, so does she - a reflexive habit from the use of her rank.

He leaves, locking the door behind him with a key. She makes a note to change the locks tomorrow. Calamity Jane sneaks out from the bathroom where she'd been hiding, mewing softly and winding between Nicole's ankles with nervous energy, tail half fluffed.

Nicole looks down at the folder still on the table, at the name of the town that is supposedly the epicentre of all of this.

"Purgatory, huh?"

[wayhaughtficrec]

Come hangout and listen folks! 😍

[haughtshotgun]

A Wayhaught Story: Bright Lights and Cityscapes

Part One: Toronto

When they meet each other, they are both broken. Young hearts have been battered and bruised from years of suffering and wondering. They fill empty spaces within the other, unaware of the voids they’ve carried in their souls. In growth they learn from each other, but in growth, there is pain. Pain is, after all, the best teacher and best reminder.

This is not a fairytale.

———————————————————————

Introducing, Bright Lights and Cityscapes, a multi-part, multi-chapter saga of pain, growth, lessons learned, and love. Part One: Toronto, Chapter One: Someone New drops this month (once I get it a good enough place for @luckiegambino to review, you are the true MVP). Be on the look out for Waverly and Nicole mood boards in the weeks leading up to release. Linked is the playlist helping me write this monster, including the song that inspired this idea two years ago, Bright Lights and Cityscapes by Sara Bareilles.

[alterumsinealterononest]

Do you think Waverly is more excited about having a wife or being a wife?

[zofiecfield]

Found Wanting (Wynonna Earp, 4x03)

She hoped desperately for their return. Craved, longed, grieved, bargains made with gods she doesn’t believe in.

But also, laced along amidst the hope, first quietly, then all the more present, then overwhelming, dread.

And now here they are, returned to her. Spikes of joy, yes, but the comfort of their presence is fleeting, chased away over and over. Heart stuttering, gut tight, limbs heavy, vision unsteady, overheating but never truly warmed. Panic rising.

She had a world to carry. Expectations, duties to uphold, debts to repay, promises to keep. Promises made in a different time, promises made with the unspoken agreement that she wouldn’t be alone in their fulfillment.

So full were her arms, so tired was her body. Some she had to lay down, to continue to carry the few she could not bear to surrender. Others were torn ruthlessly from her arms and discarded, as she, hands already straining to maintain a grasp, was helpless to prevent their loss. White knuckled and still found wanting.

Burden isn’t the weight of the responsibilities, but its absence when they have been cleaved from you. Burden is the wound left over.

Hard to let go of things now, hard to accept a hand. The loss of each duty is a bitter reminder. She needed them to come rescue her. Earned their trust and confidence, lost it all in an ugly fall.

So heavy now, she can barely breathe, barely manage to expand her chest against the crush of all her failure.

Here they are, as witness to her failings, to see her insufficiency laid bare.

She finds herself split, layers upon layers of fractured woman. Jaggedly sectioned.

Here with them, loving them and soothed in their presence.

Here with them, silently replaying the conversations of disappointment that haven’t yet happened.

Here with them, mind racing through checklists, hunting for balls dropped, embarrassments to be realized.

Here with them, wishing, though she would never let the thought to the surface, sickening as it is. Wishing they had never come back to see this.

She had been the rock, the protector. Steady at the helm, head clear, heart even. How far she’s fallen. How disappointed they must be. Perhaps they are angry. Perhaps, out of pity, they exchange knowing looks behind her. Shake their heads and look elsewhere, trust in someone else.

They tell her they love her, they thank her, they reach out again and again. Pats on the head. Small kindnesses to protect her from the shame.

She loves them each, with every fiber left of her, with every fiber worn through and hurriedly patched. But, having failed them deeply, she can’t bare to utter the words. I love you too feels like another promise made and poorly kept.

Dear reader, there is no easy ending to this story. The road out, the road up, the road home is long and weary. She’ll falter and slide. She’ll find herself more bruised then than she is now. She’ll step outside herself enough to watch in horror and sorrow as time, once again, passes her by. Trapped in a cage of her own making.

But someday, not so far from now, though it will feel to her like ages, she will find herself on solid ground. And surely her heart will still sputter sometimes, and her vision will go dark for a moment. But she’ll take a breath and squeeze an offered hand. She’ll continue forward. (In truth, reader, even as we see her now, she continues forward, even as her feet tell her they can find no purchase and her fingers slip from crumbling handholds. But someday, she will move forward and see progress for what it is, head high, heart full, feet grounded and grateful.) She will live in love and warmth, forever changed but once again home, once again herself.

Take heart. She is not alone, despite her loneliness. They see her as we do. Watch her now, stand alongside them, arms open, waiting.

[aqueerchronicle]

Wayhaught being a newly moved in couple and all the little fights they have had now that theybspend 24/7 living together.

* Nicole and Waverly don’t really fight often

* But since moving in together their tendency to bicker has definitely increased

* Living together = no time alone

* Sometimes Waves needs her time alone. It doesn’t mean she loves her best baby any less.

* Neither of them have ever lived with a significant other before.

* Champ the Chump 🙄🙄🙄 had a set of keys to Waverly’s apartment above Shorty’s but he never stayed more than a night at a time.

* Even when Nicole was married she never lived with Shay, they didn’t last long enough to get that far. they were more hot and heavy than intimate.

* For somebody so well organized Waverly can be awfully messy

* Her binders full of research are perfectly assembled and alphabetized but she can’t quite seem to remember the cap on the toothpaste or to throw out the empty bottles of floral shampoo collecting in the shower.

* Maybe living with Wynonna rubbed off on her a little.

* Plus Nicole is always picking up after Wynonna too (we all know she’s messy as f)

* Nicole on the other hand is a self proclaimed neat freak, she needs everything just so. This is partially due to her law enforcement training, but mostly she’s always been type A.

* Sometimes Nicole has to cancel plans because of unexpected responsibilities at work

* Waverly knows it’s unintentional but she can’t help but get frustrated sometimes

* Nicole has a habit of withholding if she feels like it’ll protect Waves, but Waverly is sick and tired of feeling left out by everybody.

* She wants Nicole to be the one who’s 100% transparent with her

* Neither can stay mad at one another

* Even when they are fighting Waverly gives her that look and Nicole just melts

* And Waverly is just as smitten

-Nicole : “Hey, Cutie.”

-Waverly : “Dont “cutie” me...Hey, sweetie pie”

* “Sorry” parties are canon and not just a one time thing.

BONUS

* “The best sex is make up sex, right?”