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It Feels Like I'm Fallin'

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“I mean it.”

Waverly felt a swooping, pulsing heat pooling low in her abdomen as the new Deputy of Purgatory, Nicole Haught, the name was burnt into her mind, placed her pristine Stetson on her head and flashed a bright, dimpled smile over her shoulder. Waverly’s eyes dropped unbidden, hungrily eating up the sight of Nicole’s khaki-covered hips swaying alluringly as she walked up the steps from the bar and left her alone once more.

Uncurling her fingers from the top she was clutching to her breasts, Waverly picked up the business card the officer had pulled from the front pocket of her pants and placed upon the worn top of the bar. It was heavily creased and held the lingering warmth and scent of her body that rose above the scent of beer and whiskey that was ingrained into the fabric of the saloon, and the fabric softener and detergent Nicole had used to try and get rid of the harsh scent and scratchiness of her new uniform.

Lips parting, Waverly breathed it in, tasting the sweet, sugary scent of vanilla-dipped doughnuts and the heady spice of unmated omega as it poured over her teeth and gums and filled her mouth with the sudden urge to sink her teeth into flesh and claim her for herself.

The base desire made the heat pooling in her loins burst into a conflagration that sent her hips jostling forward, bumping her hips painfully into the bar and startled her back into herself.


Waverly had tried her whole life to just blend in and be normal. In a small town like Purgatory, growing up with name ‘Earp’ hanging over her head like a flashing neon sign that sputtered and sparked in the darkness that went with the cursed name, that was pretty much an impossibility.

But, she had tried.

She had dropped the name, Earp, and had adopted her mama’s maiden name for a time. At school, if there was a club or activity, she had tried it. A little too successfully at times as she had ended up on the cheer squad and in the marching band at the same time until she had been kicked out of the band for being drunk after somehow been shot with a tranquillizer dart on the way to practice.

The sting of that, the been kicked out of band, not the dart, had been eased by Champ. While her peers had flitted between the very limited dating pool of Purgatory High, she’d had the same boyfriend. Yeah, sometimes his eye wandered, drawn by a too-short skirt or the bounty of cleavage in Purgatory’s too short summers but he had always come back to her and there weren’t many of her friends who could say the same.

He wasn’t even put off by the fact that she was alpha to his beta and grew a penis for a couple of days every month when she was in rut.

He refused to be with her during her ruts after he had sneaked into her bedroom during her first rut when she was sixteen. They had been dating for just over a year at the time, fumbling lovers for a couple of months, when he climbed through her window and caught her naked and very aroused, her hand wrapped around the straining, desperate length of her cock.

That had been mortifying enough but, with a look of shock and terror on his face, he had stumbled backwards and tumbled out of the open window. He’d scrambled for a moment, teetering on the edge of safety before slipping and rolling off the sloped roof and broken his arm on the hard ground with a piercing scream that had brought her uncle Curtis running from the house in his thermal pyjamas, his shotgun raised.

Waverly had been sure that Champ would want nothing more to do with her after that but, with a cast covered with colourful obscenities like a chunky tattoo sleeve thanks to his friends and high as a kite on good drugs, he had declared his love. But, since then, he had shown no desire to be with her during her ruts.

While Waverly respected his decision and never tried to change his mind, she couldn’t deny that it also hurt a little to have that part of her rejected. It wasn’t like she would have jumped him or expected him to do anything sexual. It was strange, though, she knew he watched alpha porn and wasn’t shy about toys being used on him. In fact, he liked it enough when she used a toy on his ass that he asked for it.

But, every time her rut was close and he saw her, he looked there and baulked.

Maybe there was something wrong with her penis? It looked normal to Waverly but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask as all of her friends were betas and she really didn’t want anyone around her, poking and prodding when she was in rut and it presented, so she dealt with her rut and her insecurities on her own.

It would have been nice just to have him there to hold her and feel his comfort during what could be a painful time at the start of her rut in the time it took for her body to change and form a penis. After those first couple of days, it wasn’t so bad even if the intensity of her horniness could be a bit distracting at times with only her hands and some select toys to help.

Waverly’s hips jumped again as the thought of her rut met the scent of the redhead, creating a whirlpool of need as her eyes traced over her name on the card.

“Officer Haught,” her mouth formed slowly around her name, tasting it, savouring the warmth that pooled and spread like the heat of a fine whiskey through her body. “Of course,” she blushed. Her eyes glancing back towards the door as though hoping to conjure the cocky omega who had helped untangle her from her beer-soaked top with a twinkle in her brown eyes and even, white teeth sinking into the plumpness of her lip, back into view.

She had a boyfriend!

She was straight, for cripes sake!

She had no reason to be feeling what she was feeling!


The attraction that kept her feeling woolly-headed and wrong-footed through the day, her mind filled with snippets of red hair, sure hands, dimples, and that tantalising bit of skin over defined collarbones exposed by the blatant disregard for uniform rules was undeniable. Finally, fed up with having to work around her, Shorty had huffed at her and sent her home, which was just up the stairs to her small apartment above the bar, before the end of her shift.

The sounds of the bar drifted up the stairs and through the floorboards, a familiar background hum that Waverly was used to drowning out. That night was easier than usual though as she lay there beneath the thickness of the covers and extra blankets. Her mind drifted as it had all day, returning again and again to the mystery that was Nicole Haught,  her attraction to her, and the possibilities it opened up in her mind.

Waverly wondered if the instant flare of attraction she had felt was because she was an alpha and Nicole was an omega but the thought was dismissed quicker than it had formed as she had met unmated omegas her own age before. Admittedly not many, but the ones she had, she had not felt anything like she did with Nicole. Also, it was a dangerous, antiquated way of thinking that belonged in the past along with other toxic and dangerous ones like the kind that claimed that women were asking to be raped just because of how they dressed or the one that taught girls that boys being mean meant they really liked you.

Being an alpha was just what she was. It didn’t give her a licence to be aggressive or chase after every unmated omega and knot them whether they were willing or not. She didn’t have to act on any attraction or feeling. In fact, if she wanted to act on anything, she had a perfectly good boyfriend she could call on… assuming he wasn’t too drunk.

There was absolutely no reason for her to by lying there, wondering what Nicole’s skin would feel like beneath her hands and pressed against hers; If her lips would be as soft as they looked as they kissed; What it would feel like to make love to a woman.

No, not a woman, just Nicole.

Nicole with her tightly-braided red hair unbound and falling around them as she rose up above her, or splayed across her pillows.

Nicole with her soft brown eyes darkening with desire as she moved down her body.


Groaning in frustration, Waverly threw herself onto her side and pulled the covers over her head before she gave in to the temptation to touch herself to thoughts of a stranger.


Waverly tried to keep Nicole as just a stranger in her life but, since Wynonna’s return to Purgatory, Waverly’s life was anything but normal. She spent more time with her sister, getting to know her while trying to break the curse put upon their family. And, as Xavier Dolls had flashed his badge and commandeered offices for them in the Sheriff’s Department, that meant that any time spent there helping with research into all the crazy put her into Nicole’s orbit.

Outside of the office, Nicole was there too, wandering into her mind even more than she wandered into Shorty’s for a drink and some company after her shifts were over. She filled Waverly’s days, and nights, with the sight and scent of her, pushing aside all thoughts of her boyfriend without even trying until Champ’s once sought touch and presence began to grate on her.

When Shorty died, another victim of the curse, it was Nicole’s gentle touch upon her hands, her scent, and her soft voice that brought her a moment of comfort at his wake instead of Champ. Rather than offering the support she needed, he draped himself over her shoulders like a heavy, smothering weight, his pores oozing with a vile possessive scent as he glared at Nicole and pressed sloppy kisses against Waverly’s cheek.

His actions had made Waverly shrivel and feel dead inside but it was the way Nicole’s scent dimmed, taking on a slightly acrid burnt odour as she had backed away that had made Waverly realise what she was putting up with. Shrugging Champ off, she sent him away as soon as she could.

Hours later, when the bar was quiet, Waverly stood behind the bar and felt the silence and grief settle over her. Her life felt like it was spinning out of control, everything flying out of her hands and spinning away!

Her uncle was dead and now Shorty! Both murdered by a curse that had nothing to do with them!

The same curse that had killed her pa and every heir before him. A curse that now threatened Wynonna’s life every day.

Digging her nails into the ancient wood of the bar, Waverly swallowed down the scream clawing its way up her throat. Her breath panted and rasped around it, her vision darkening around the edges in pulsing waves with every ragged breath until she could mark the frantic pounding of her heart by it.

She was spinning away.

Soaring and falling out of control.

Silently screaming for the world to slow down!

And then…

She was anchored.

Her lungs filling with the scent of vanilla-dipped doughnuts.

Her face cradled tenderly between elegant, lightly-calloused hands.

Waverly blinked back the darkness, her vision filling with the warm brown of Nicole’s eyes.


“Shh, just breathe with me, Waves. I’ve got you. In and out. That’s it.”

Waverly fell into the comfort of Nicole’s voice and let it guide her until everything came back into focus. Only then did she realise that her fingers were tangled up in her the front of her shirt, crushing creases in the thick, blue cotton. She can feel the heat of her body beneath her touch, seeping in through her fingers and spreading through her body. And Waverly wants to melt into it, wrap herself up in a blanket of Nicole’s vanilla-dipped doughnut-scented warmth and never let go.

The desire was so great, Waverly didn’t realise she had let herself fall against Nicole until she felt Nicole’s voice vibrate beneath her ear and realised her face was pressed against her. Her apologies were brushed aside with a gentle smile and an even softer touch of hands that brushed down her spine, urging her to stay as long as she needed.

Blushing furiously, Waverly finally summoned the strength to step away even though she couldn’t find enough to let go of Nicole’s hand. Her thumb brushed back and forth across Nicole’s knuckles and the back of her hand, using her as a touchstone to ground herself.

“I didn’t expect to see you again after the-“ her voice broke, catching anew on the loss of Shorty and, selfishly, on the uncertainty his loss had thrown her life into.

“I just finished my shift and wanted to see how you were doing and offer my help if you needed it.”


“Cleaning up around here. I was only young when my aunt and uncle died but I still remember how busy mom and dad were after the wake.”

Waverly glanced up. She could sense that genuine desire to help writ clearly in Nicole’s expressive eyes just as surely as she could see the hint of colour in her cheeks that made her wonder if there was more to her offer.

“You don’t have to-“

“I know,” Nicole interrupted. “I want to help if you’ll let me?”

Waverly found herself powerless to say no so simply nodded and then almost swallowed her tongue as Nicole unbuttoned her uniform shirt and stripped down to reveal a figure-hugging, low-cut tank top in the same blue as her shirt.

“Seems only fair seeing as you ended up in far less than that first time,” Nicole explained as she carefully folded her shirt and put it out of the way.

“Not quite,” Waverly teased as she bent over to collect cleaning supplies from beneath the bar, “you’re not wet.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“What?” Waverly’s eyes went wide, her head nearly cracking against the bar as she shot upright.


Waverly wasn’t fooled for one second by Nicole’s feigned innocence but she let her get away with it and every other teasing, flirty comment she threw her way and let them distract her from her grieving as they worked side by side with the kind of ease that came with knowing someone for years.

Finally, the bar was clear of all signs of the wake that had taken place there earlier and they stood back, their bodies brushing with every breath as they took it in.

“Do you want to go grab a drink?”

Nicole’s chuckle filled the air as Waverly cocked a brow as her and pointedly looked around the bar.

“I meant somewhere other than here. The diner should still be open, if their coffee is good enough. I’ll even get you a piece of pie if you want,” she offered, “my treat.”

“I’m the one that owes you a coffee,” Waverly reminded her.

“You still will,” Nicole smiled, looking at her from beneath lowered lashes. “This way I get to see you again.”

“We see each other every day, Nicole,” Waverly chuckled.

“At the station doesn’t count,” Nicole smiled easily. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on our breakroom meetings,” she teased. “This way I won’t have to worry about Agent Dolls threatening to kill me for not knocking. Which I did do, by the way,” she huffed slightly.

“What?!” Waverly growled, her burning need to go and give Dolls a piece of her mind tempered by the brush of Nicole’s fingers against the pulse at the inside of her wrist.


“And pie,” Waverly smiled back, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her coat as Nicole held it out for her. Again displaying a comfort and ease between their movements that wasn’t easy to find. Holding out her hand, she watched as Nicole’s warm hand slipped easily into her grasp, their fingers entwining and locking together like pieces of the same puzzle.