'Twas swooning season, apparently.

Your face is set like stone as you stroll behind your lady, who is deep in conversation and light laughter with the Prince of Angieon; Steve Rogers. Although you know your lady is not prone to fainting, nor does she hold much stead in pathetic courting rituals; she has still brought her fan with her, and occasionally flutters it - prompting the prince's cheeks to go pink each time.

Whatever fan-signal she sends her husband-to-be works - because the prince seems ready to swoon at her feet. However, just as you make a mental note to tease her for it later, an annoying sound pierces your ears and you're forced to glance to your left.

Bucky, the prince's knight and best friend, was attempting to make small talk again.

"It's a lovely day for a walk." He says flexing his right arm over the hilt of sword.

"Yes. Indeed." You say coolly focusing back on your Lady and her prince.

"Heard it was your idea." Bucky continues. "The walk."

"Yes."

"You still haven't forgiven me, have you?" Bucky sighs.

"My, whatever gave you that impression?" Your body is taught, head and neck stiff as you keep your eyes forward.

Steve says something in a hushed tone and your Lady laughs. A pang of jealousy strikes your chest. If only you could have experienced something so pure.

"I've apologised countless times already." Bucky says in a desperate whisper.

"Quiet." You hiss over at him. "I don't need my Lady to know about her servant's business. Nor do I want to discuss it further."

Bucky clamps his mouth shut with a frown. "Courting you isn't... it's not..."

You suck in a sharp breath and glower at him with the fury of a thousand suns. "Your cowardice is none of my concern."

You snap your head and beam at your Lady when she addresses you, answering her politely with an inclination of your head. When she turns away, your frown is back and your voice drips contempt.

"I'm not one of your love-sick damsels, Bucky." You snap. "Go and bay at some other poor creature's window and let her take pity on you instead."

You take a few long strides to get ahead of him, leaving him to sulk behind you. You don't look back. You don't need him to see how your eyes are full to the brim with tears.

Your words struck harder than any blow a man could have dealt him and they echo in Bucky's mind long after the walk has finished and Steve gushes about his future wife-to-be.

"Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Steve sighs dreamily.

"Yes, your highness." Bucky replies, remembering how you'd looked at him with such gentle care - like he'd break into a thousand pieces at your soft touch.

And then he'd scorned you.

"She's so- so- gah! I can't think of an adjective fitting enough!" Steve is practically frolicking from each side of the room.

Bucky can't remember the last time he himself had frolicked. Or if he ever would. "Yes, your highness."

Steve's frolicking ceases suddenly as he turns to look at his best friend, who's sitting sullen in a dark corner, growing mushrooms. Steve had never seen him look so glum.

"I take it you're mystery woman didn't work out?" Steve questions, sitting backwards on a chaor opposite Bucky.

"Something like that, your-"

"If you say your highness once more I'll throw something at you." Steve sighs, crossing his arms across the top of the chair and resting his head on top of them. "You know you can refer to me by my name in private."

Bucky sighs, slumping further into himself. "Sorry. But yes, the mystery woman didn't work out."

Steve studies Bucky for a moment. "May I ask how come? I've never seen you this upset over a woman before. Surely, a woman didn't finally break your heart?"

"No." Bucky replies and Steve grins. "But I ruined everything."

That wipes the smile off Steve's face. "How so?"

"I said I cannot be with her." Bucky sighs. "My duty is to you and the Kingdom. A knight-"

Steve looks utterly aghast. "You said what?"

"I- well," Bucky shrugs helplessly. "It would never have worked out."

Steve's mouth hangs open. "You mean to tell me that this mystery woman you have been chasing for months... you- you-" Steve runs his hands over his face and groans loudly. "You're such a fool."

"Surprisingly," Bucky chuckles wryly. "She has been telling me similar."

"No wonder." Steve harrumphs, slumping into a chair. "There is no rule for you not to marry." He says finally, eyes closed and brows furrowed. "I'm not understanding your logic, Buck."

Bucky rolls his shoulders, half shrug, half releasing the tension in his muscles. It didn't make sense out loud - not really. However, Bucky knew that his dedication to the kingdom and to Steve would always trump whoever he would be married to. And when it came to you in particular, he didn't think he would be able to fulfill his duty.

You would always, always, come first.

Well, up until a fortnight ago.

He had thought that it was best if he put an end to your secret courtship; best for the both of you. Best for him. Stupidly, he had not expected that your warm demeanour would shift to cold. Gone was the kindness and the gentle caresses of your hand brushing against his when he'd accompany you to the market to give the prince and his fianceé some privacy. Instead, he felt as if you were now leagues apart - the look of irreprable despair on your face when he told you things had to end haunting every waking moment. The fact of the matter was he loved you and that he could not do anything about it.

He tells Steve as much, who throws up his hands in exasperation.

"Why did you not tell me?" He huffs and Bucky smiles. Of course his best friend would be upset over a secret romance.

"Because you are so in love," Bucky replies coolly. "I didn't want to trouble you with this trivial matter."

"Love is not trivial." Steve argues. "She's unlike your other flings, correct?"

Bucky nods. "Entirely different."

"And she feels the same way?"

"She did," Bucky sighs. "I wouldn't be surprised if she hates my guts at present."

"Then all is not lost." Steve says jumping up. "If she truly loved you, her heart would not be fickle. Her anger at you demonstrates as much."

Bucky blinks at him in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"Deathly." Steve says seriously. "Now, tell me. Who is she? I wish to help you devise a plan to win her back."

Your Lady had been at afternoon tea with the Queen the following day, dismissing you from your usual duties. The day had been warm enough to read in the sunshine, the evening cold enough to hurry you inside; yet, the sky remained clear enough to see the stars. You sat in the stone crevice of you window gazing up into the night, thanking the powers that be from thwarting further emotional investment on such a cowardly knight.

You may have wished upon a star that there was a different outcome, and you sigh away thoughts of what could have been.

That is, until, a voice beckons you from the darkness below. You squint downward and a warm firey glow from a torch illuminatws a man's face.

"Bucky?"

He grins up at you. "Good evening, my lady."

You roll your eyes and pull a sour face. "How did you get in?"

"I'm a future king's knight." He says, as if it answers your question entirely.

"Very well," you snap. "What are you doing here?"

His face falters for a second - struggling to keep his smile under your hard gaze. "To see you. I wish to speak with you." He pauses to swallow a lump in his throat. "To make ammends."

"Oh," you say, faux-excited. "Here is something for you to make ammends with."

Bucky tactfully dodges the silver jug you launch at him and watches ruefully as you close the wooden windows, shielding yourself from him. A quick glance to the darkness to his left with a shrug, has Steve pointing furiously at the trellis that clings to the wall, leading to your chambers. Bucky sighs.

You pace angrily. How dare he! It isn't enough to have embarassed you, but to get your hopes up too! You thump a pillow angrily, before hugging it to your body, and continue your pacing. A soft knock at your wooden shutters stops you.

No. He couldn't- he wouldn't- have.

You throw the shutters open and there is Bucky, half-hanging onto your window ledge. He looks sheepish, covered in scratches from the roses that trail the trellis but somehow still manages a smile.

"Please," he says quietly. "Listen to what I have to say."

You fold your arms and make no move to help into your room. He sighs in defeat and begins to talk.

"I was a fool. I am so incredibly sorry for hurting you." He dips his head. "But you must understand that my duty would be to the prince first and foremost."

You harrumph in response but he continues.

"However, the prince has informed me that I am also an incredibly small-minded fool amd that I would make a better court jester than a knight - if I do not make it right by you."

You raise an eyebrow and he wiggles slightly. Something snaps under his foot and his body slips slightly. Tensing, you sigh and reach over to him to help him up. He thanks you, and smiles like he hasn't ripped out your heart once already.

"You have apologised many times already." You tell him, picking a stay leaf from his mail.

"I wish to make it right, not apologise." He says firmly. He takes your hand in his softly, cautiously, careful not to break you. "I want you to be my wife."

You stare at him incredulous, heart beating like a cornered beast's. "Bucky you-"

"-are a fool? A wretch?" He interjects, holding your hand tighter. His eyes are fierce. He was serious. "I cannot for a moment think of my life without you. I wish to be selfish. Even if it means forgoing my duties."

"You- but the prince-"

"I have Steve's blessing." He says quickly. "I would be lying if I said that this entire evening was my idea."

It clicks. That was how he got in. The prince pulled strings; which meant...

"My lady also knows about this?"

"By morning, I will let everyone know." Bucky says. "I will shout it from the rooftops if I must; let everyone know that I am yours." He glances at you, eyes hopeful and voice low. "If you will have me?"

It is the longest moment of your life, until you remember to breathe again and fling your arms around his neck. "Of course, my beautiful fool!" You kiss his cheeks as he picks you up and spins you around your room. "Don't you ever be so stupid ever again!"

"Now that, my dear, I can promise."

END

Maybe we will see these two again! I quite like Knight!Bucky hehe 😈

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When Frank had invited you to the annual summer barbecue with a nervous, but charming smile, you had been over the moon. You hoped that you looked calm and collected when you had smiled and said yes; in your mind, you were excitedly squealing and already thinking of fifteen different dishes to bring with you.

The excitement for the barbecue didn't dissipate until five hours after your arrival. You had tried to put on a brave face after seeing Frank's ex-girlfriend and her pals hanging around, reminding yourself you hadn't even been on three dates with Frank.

You knew Frank had many flings over the years of living in the small seaside town, as well as being the most eligible bachelor in a twenty mile radius. Single dad uncle, insanely smart, handsome and a handyman that was good with his hands in every sense of the phrase? Yep. Frank Adler was one hell of a catch. If you could catch him.

Unfortunately for you, Bonnie thought she'd be the one to do it.

What started as small, gossiping looks amongst friends turned more bitchy as the day drew on. After seeing Frank give you a small peck on the cheek in greeting, Bonnie telepathically declared war on you. She intentionally monopolised Frank's attention - not that you minded so much since you got to chat with people you hadn't seen since high school and you got to say hello to Roberta, Frank's neighbour.

When her friends insulted your dish within ear shot, sneering over at you, you ignored it; relishing the fact that Frank had taken probably the majority of it and was happily wolfing it down. That's all that mattered.

The straw that broke the camels back, however, was when you went to get some water and somehow Bonnie managed to trip and spill sangria over your white, albeit floral, summer dress. You may have thought it was a genuine accident, had it not been for her small smirk and the other transgressions over the last few hours.

Still; you smiled, accepted her faux apology with grace and walked inside, straight-backed to the bathroom. Once locked away, the tears brimmed as you looked at the state of your dress. You were sticky and wet with big, fat red stain trailing down your back. You sniffed. You thought the high school experience was over. Clearly not.

You wait for water from the faucet to turn warm, and cup a small amount to wipe the sticky sweetness of sangria from your skin; considering for a moment whether you should just abandon the barbecue altogether.

A soft knock at the door startles you from your thoughts.

"Hey." It's Frank. "You doing okay?"

You throat tightens but you muster up the energy to sound bright and peppy. You watch your reflection in the mirror wipe away stray tears as you speak. "Yeah! Bonnie bumped into me with some sangria and I don't want to attract any wasps."

There's silence on the other side of the door. Then, "Yeah, I saw."

You turn off the faucet. "My dress is pretty damp." And stained. "I think I may go home to change."

You don't like how your voice grows quieter, nor how Frank doesn't say anything for another long moment.

"Mary and I will give you a ride." He says finally.

"No, you don't-" You clear your throat. He was so sweet. "You don't need to do that. Let Mary stay and have fun."

"Um, about that," Frank chuckles. "Mary may or may not have also seen what happened.... and may or may not have had a few choice words."

"Oh." You bite back a smile.

"Yeah, oh." You can hear the smile in Frank's voice. "Now, open the door please."

You peek around the door to your man in plaid with a shy smile that meets his lazy one.

"Hey." He says.

"Hey." You say back before you both snort.

You step out of the bathroom, closer to Frank. He doesn't move away.

"I'm sorry. About today." His eyes don't leave your face. "I thought it would be a good, chill way for you and Mary to meet. Something low stakes." He sighs, brows furrowed. "I guess that was stupid of me."

"It was a good idea," you reassure him gently. "You can't control how others will act." You let the statement hang for a beat before continuing. "We could go to the park sometime, or the beach, instead?"

Frank's head shoots up and his blue eyes brighten. "That- Yeah. I'd like that. A lot." He breathes a sigh of relief this time. "I'm sorry about all this. On the bright side though, your food was amazing."

You wipe away tear streaks with a stuffy snort. "Yeah, I saw you inhaling it."

Frank smiles sheepishly at you. "Ah. Yeah, well it was delicious."

"Let me take you home and get you some dry clothes." He offers his hand out to you and you take it, before he jerks his head in the direction of the stairs. "Come on. I promised Mary I'd get her some ice cream on the way home."

You smile, following him down the stairs. "What did she even say?"

"Ehh, a lovely alliterating nickname for Bonnie." He says dismissively. "That may have included the word bitch."

You throw your free hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh, heart swelling as you imagine the little blonde loudly declaring the nickname in front of everyone. She definitely deserves whatever icecream she wants.

End

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

You can follow @grems-library for reblogs of my fics or join my taglist here

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Frank: @stargazingfangirl18 @irishhappiness @Cieraboobear @doodooslay @shamrockqueen @alicedopey @awkwardgiraffe726 @late-to-the-party-81 @moonfairy182 @thechrysalisdiaries @lexie983 @stephstar28 @mommad @marvellover91

Bearskin [Medieval AU Curtis Everett x Reader]

Part 4 | Part 5

Golden Boy [Shifter!Jake Jensen x Reader]

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

This Space Between Us

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Neighbourhood AU

Missing Piece (Stucky x reader)

Part 3

3's Company (Jake Jensen x reader x Colin Shea)

Part 3 | Part 4

Fault in the System Part 2

Summer Lovin' Collection

A collection of Summer-themed ficlets with our fave babes. There may be some additions to this but we currently have 10!

Green Collection

Dazed Haze

Burnin' Bush

Home Grown

Shots! Shots! Shots! Collection

Panty-dropper

Body-Shot

One-Shots

Swooning Season - Knight!Bucky x Lady-in-waiting! Reader💕

It took longer than you cared to admit to get back to sleep. Jake's presence was somehow still comforting, yet, your mind was buzzing with a thousand thoughts that wouldn't quiet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly and you had to remind yourself to breathe normally multiple times as you patiently waited for Jake's snoring to start. It made you smile knowing he snored as both a man and a dog.

The predicament you know found yourself in created more upon more questions that you didn't think Jake was best suited to answer, or even know. Like, for example, was he born a shifter or created? And would it be rude to ask him that in the morning?

You tried not to toss and turn as you struggled to keep your thoughts at bay, eventually succumbing to sleep. But not before you had a mental list of questions to bring to Jake and multiple plans to ensure your safety - just in case.

You forgot all but three questions to ask when you awoke the next morning, and only one contingency plan which so happened to be run away. You also knew that that plan was about as useful as a chocolate mug since Jake looked like he could run faster than you in human form, not just as a dog.

Sighing as you swing your legs out of bed, you can smell a sweet scent in the air. Pancakes.

As you enter the kitchen, Jake was wearing a blanket around his waist and not much else, as he flipped another pancake onto a pile of perfectly golden ones on a plate next to him. You stared at the muscles on his back as he worked before he shot you a smile and said good morning.

You really hoped he hadn't noticed your staring as you took your seat, muttering a bashful good morning of your own before he set the giant stack in front of you.

"Oh, thanks." You pick up the syrup the was waiting for you on the table and drowned your pancakes, before adding a blob of butter. You ignore the tightness in your chest when Jake does the same. "I have a bathrobe upstairs. It's way too big for me if you want to wear that."

"Really?" Jake asks, syrup sliding over his chin. "You wouldn't mind?"

You shake your head. "Not at all."

Not if it stops me from going all goo-goo-eyed.

"Thanks." Jake pauses as he spears one of his pancakes. "How are you feeling? About our... situation?"

"I kinda feel weird about it." You admit taking a bite of a syrupy pancake. "I mean, you were my dog and secretly you were this hot guy all along. It's like that Supernatural episode-"

"But you think I'm hot." Jake interupts and your eyes narrow over at him as your cheeks burn. His head dips and he gives you an apologetic look through his lashes. "Sorry. Continue."

"I keep forgetting that you're not-" You're about to say a dog but instead say, "-that you're a human being. Sorta. Kinda? What-" you shake your head as if physically shaking the question of what are you, actually? away from your tongue. It seemed rude. You sigh at your pancake. "Nevermind."

"It's ok." Jake says with a smile. "I don't really know either."

You manage a meager smile back. "Well, you make really good pancakes."

Jake's smile broadens and he's about to say something when there's a knock at the front door.

"Miss L/N?" A male voice calls out. "It's Officer Jones."

"Uhhh, yeah!" You shout back. "I'll be right-" you go to shoot Jake a look of panic but when you look around he's disappeared. "-there."

You try to act as calm as possible when you answer the door and let the officer in. He's in plain clothes, like the others before and flashes you his police badge from under his jacket. He scans the room as he enters, before he settles on you and you try to look innocent (although you're not sure what you'd be guilty of) whilst your mind races about where Jake disappeared to.

Is he okay? Would he have changed back in time? Where was he?

"You good?" Officer Jones asks, handing you over a small bag of groceries. It was only the weekly must-haves; bread, eggs milk. Survivable things.

"Uh, yeah, um…" You shake your head and smile nervously. "I just… I had some pretty bad nightmares last night and I'm a bit frazzled."

It's not a total lie. You were prone to nightmares.

Officer Jones seems to believe you and nods seriously. "Good news is perimeter looks fine, though so you can put your mind at ease." He gives you a reassuring smile before adding, "Besides, don't you have that dog to protect you?"

"I- yes!" You clap your hands together, hoping Officer Jones didn't notice the look of bafflement at the mention of Jake's dog form. You'd almost forgotten everyone else thought he was just a dog. "I do. Yes."

"Have you come up with a name for him yet?" Officer Jones chuckles. "Back at the precinct everyone tells me you call him Goldie."

"Aha…" You begin awkwardly. "My golden boy."

"That's it!" Jones says, snapping his fingers. "You have to have thought of a better name by now."

"Uh - yeah. It's Jake." You say, immediately feeling stupid.

Who's going to know? Or even guess?

"Jake?" Officer Jones pulls a face. "A human name for a dog?"

You shrug comically. "He acts more human than dog."

More than you'll ever know.

The officer chuckles,"Yeah, my dog is exactly the same."

"Ohhh, what dog do you have?" You ask, inviting him further inside. "I really need some pointers."

Officer Jones closes the door quietly and follows you through to the kitchen, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, actually, it's my girlfriend's dog. And she's hardly trained."

He goes onto explain that Muffin is a very happy, very pampered pooch Lassa Lapso who lives in the city centre, and her tricks include sleeping and knowing whether or not the food she is given is high quality, expensive chow.

"Sounds like you've got your hands full." You tease, hurriedly clearing away the two plates that were left out before he notices. "Jake will eat anything."

As if on cue, Jake appears, shiny golden coat reflecting the middle morning sun. He makes a disgruntled sound, obviously catching the last part of your statement, before giving Officer Jones a cautionary sniff.

Officer Jones squats and ruffles Jake's fur. Knowing what you now know about him, you aren't sure if you should find the affectionate cooing Officer Jones makes over your dog-not-dog endearing or downright strange. It makes you wonder if Jake feels uncomfortable by the constant attention - but from his lolling tongue and wagging tail it doesn't seem to.

"He's real handsome." Officer Jones says finally before standing. "It's good you've got something to protect you and keep you company."

"Yeah," you say, subconsciously fussing Jake when he comes to sit next to you. "I'm really lucky I found him."

"Definitely." Officer Jones smiles again - friendliness rolling from him. He was much nicer to deal with than Officer Chuckles. "If there's nothing you want to report, if you haven't noticed anything strange recently or if you're not settling in, I'll just do a quick walk round the perimeter and report back to the precinct?"

"Yeah, sure." You nod. "I've not noticed anything recently - and I'm doing much better with Jake around."

Officer Jones nods. "Alrighty. I'll stay out of your hair and let you know once the ." He flashes a smile down at Jake. "Nice to finally meet you, bud."

Jake does his usual excited happy dance and a short howl that makes you both laugh. Officer Jones buds you both goodbye and begins a quick perimeter search, leaving both you and Jake in the kitchen.

It's extremely strange. The behaviours he now exhibits are no longer cute but entirely human. He doesn't brush up against you for more scritches, but waits patiently next to you for the officer to come back with the all clear. You half expect him to start speaking to you in dog-form any second.

His gold ears move and twitch to sounds you can't hear, nostrils occasionally flaring at the scent of something new. New questions begin to take form in your head and so many more when he turns to look at you quizically with big brown eyes you were sure were blue when he was human.

Today was going to be a long day.

Once officer Jones had given the all clear and the hum of the undercover car became nonexistent, Jake politely toddled upstairs. You sat patiently on the couch, stroking the sides of your warm mug of tea in an effort to soothe your nerves. You didn't know why you felt anxious but you were glad that it was more of an excitable anxiety than terror.

When Jake reappeared, he was human again and donning the bathrobe you mentioned. It seemed to fit him perfectly - even if it was just a tad short on his legs.

"Hey," you smile awkwardly, knowing you're trying so hard to act normal in such an un-normal situation.

"Hey." Jake says and rubs the back of his head, eyes to the floor. Seems he was just as awkward as you.

"So, um," you shrug, attempting nonchalance. And failing miserably. "The whole-" you gesture vaguely to his body. "-shifter thing. Honestly? Not the worst thing in the world."

Jake beams at you, and playfully tugs at the collar of the robe in a proud, mayoral fashion. "That's reassuring to hear. And look, I swear, I wasn't trying to be weird or a creep or-"

You cut him off with a small wave of your hand. You're smiling softly, genuinely, but you can't help that it's bitter. "You were trying to survive. I can't judge you for that."

Jake makes a gentle hum sound - between a thank you and an I'm sorry you went through that - that makes your heart warm. You're glad he doesn't try to apologise or speak further on the matter. You don't want to confront that demon yet.

Your eyes flicker back to his and you're taken by surprise to see that he's squinting down at the book you'd picked off the shelf while waiting for Officer Jones to finish his checks.

"You... ok?" You ask.

"Sorry- erm..." Jake looks sheepish. "I usually have glasses."

"Glasses?" Now that he mentions it, you can't look away from his face trying to imagine him with glasses.

It's a mistake. You remembered him being hot, though you'd been to pre-occupied by the fact your dog was suddenly a man to really appreciate his features. He had a perfectly chiseled nose that you found hard to imagine glasses sitting a top of, pink pouted lips that you knew would melt your heart if he paired them with that puppy-dog look he's mastered and, worse still; his body was lean but muscular - and covered in dark golden hair. He was built like he was pulled from a romance novel.

"Yeah, I usually have them in a safe area so I can see when I shift back." Jake continues, seemingly unaware of your inner-processing.

"Is that why your eyes change colour?"

"You noticed?" Jake blinks at you and you can feel heat rise up your neck as he smiles. "Yeah - dogs eyes are almost always brown. So, I guess as an evolutionary thing I always have brown eyes as a golden since it would look weird if I didn't."

"Makes sense." You nod. "Is your eyesight better when you're a dog?"

"Yeah," Jake shrugs. "Most of my senses are heightened as a human but all are increased as a dog."

"That's-" you catch Jake's look of worry and smile. "-really cool."

"You think so?" He brightens.

"Yeah," You say trying not to laugh - but his energy is infectious. "Is it the same for all shifters?"

"Mostly. Eyesight being the biggest issue - really depends on what you shift into." The more he talks the more animated he becomes, clearly excited by getting to share this information. "Like I knew a guy who shifted into a cat. Man, that was so awkward - I chased him up a tree. His eyesight was fine but he suffered with chronic fatigue."

Jake eyes the spot on the sofa beside you cautiously and on impulse you smack to call him up; immediately recoiling. However, Jake chuckles and plops down ungracefully next to you whilst still maintaining a respectful distance.

You take a sip of your coffee thoughtfully. "Do you know many shifters?"

Jake shakes his head. "It was mainly my family. The community is small and so far as I know many shifters like keeping to themselves."

You hum distantly. "So you didn't really have a big support system for all of these changes?"

Jake blows out a long breath as he thinks of what to say and you watch him carefully. It was nice to be able to have a conversation with someone that wasn't a cop or detective or lawyer. It was nice for your dog to talk back. Still, you didn't know him very well and you should be on your guard... but something about Jake told you you were safe with him. Something about him made you comfortable. Relaxed.

Even when you thought you shouldn't be.

"My mom did her best for me and my sister. She was great." He says finally. "That's all I needed."

You huff a little chuckle, somewhat envious. "I'm glad. And a sister? That's new."

"And a niece." Jake says proudly. "And before you ask, being a shifter is a genetic thing. I don't know how or why - but if you're worried I'll bite you to turn you it doesn't work like that."

"I wasn't," You say playfully. "Until you mentioned it."

Jake looks so terrified for a brief second you can't help but laugh. "I'm kidding! If you wanted to have bitten me, you'd have done so by now."

Jake breathes a sigh of relief and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's fine." You wave him off dismissively with a smile. "Look, I could order some glasses online if you know your perscription and if I can get away with ordering an air-bed-"

"I'm happy sleeping on the floor!" Jake interjects. "I was in the special forces. Just gimme a pillow and a blanket and I'll sleep like a baby.

"Absolutely not!" You gasp. Jake only shrugs.

"Or I can sleep on the sofa - so long as I wake up early."

"I can take the sofa." You say defiantly. "And if you're not happy with that then we can take turns."

"Deal." Jake says quickly. "But I'll sleep down here tonight since you didn't get a fullnight's rest last night."

You roll your eyes but your heart skips at his thoughtfulness. "Okay, let's get you some glasses and I'll make a list of some snacks to stock up on."

Part 6 END

A/N: I finished this ages ago but never got around to posting it because i wanted more consecutive parts... I think y'all have waited long enough 🫠😅

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You want the ground to swallow you up. Digest you, even. It was bad enough that you were half dressed, hair tousled in an un-subtle way; there was no doubt what sent you here and even though the nurses were lovely - you knew you had made their night.

And then they sent in a sexy silver fox in a pair of scrubs to check you over. Worst. Night. Ever.

"Marcie tells me you took a tumble - you might be concussed?"

"Uh, yeah," You manage out, throat dry as all hell. You wished your partner had been considerate enough to grab you a drink and some snacks before heading for the hills. "Fell off my bed."

"I'm the night shift attending, Dr.Abbot." He says with a friendly smile. "I'm just going to shine a torch in your eyes and check that there's no swelling behind the eye or dilated pupils, okay?"

You nod. He makes a hissing sound as he sees the bruise swelling beneath your brow bone, where a small but deep cut sits. He shines a small torches into your eyes, moving it to and fro quickly, and you wince.

"That looks like a pretty nasty bruise for just falling off your bed." His voice is playful, however, there's a steely undertone you can't miss. An friendly opening for you to elaborate or perhaps confess the true nature of why you have such a nasty bruise.

No wonder your bed-friend had bolted.

Steeling yourself, you sigh but you can't help the heat that rises to your cheeks.

"I fell off my bed and hit the corner of my bedside table." You say candidly.

His eyebrows raise, mentally painting himself a picture, but before he can finish piecing it together, you're giving him the answer.

"During sex."

He stares at you. You stare back, frowning slightly. And then he cracks ever so slightly, with a huffed laugh and a wide grin.

"Ah. That would do it." He says matter-of-factly, trying not to laugh.

You smack your lips together. "Tell me about it."

"And your partner didn't-?" he raises a brow and you shake your head.

"No, he didn't do it. And no, he didn't stick around after dropping me off."

Abbot nods and then offers another warm smile. "Well, the good news you don't need stitches. I'd like to keep you for a little bit longer just to be safe. I'll send an a nurse around with tylenol and an ice pack."

"Thanks, Dr. Abbot." You smile weakly, sighing as you retire yourself to the uncomfortable hospital bed.

"No worries." Before he leaves, he flashes you another smile. "I'll try and check in on you later."

You watch casualties and emergencies of varying degrees of severity rush past your open room. Dr Abbot occasionally barks orders, but over the hub-bub his voice is drowned by beeps, bloops and screams of pain.

You manage to fall asleep once your ice pack melts to a lukewarm temperature, however, you are rudely awoken by the blaring alarms of a patient crashing in the next curtain cubicle over. There's a lot of commotion; shouts of medical jargon, shoes squeaking on linoleum, silence as a long beep stretches through the curtain to your ears.

Then it repeats.

After the third repetition, a familiar voice says "call it" and a soft, female voice announces the time of death of you curtain-neighbour. You don't realise you've been holding your breath or how tight your chest feels, despite not knowing the person that was less than two metres away from your sleeping body.

It's a strange sensation. You're still groggy, someone somewhere in the ER is screaming, more beeps, more yells and yet… there's an eerie quiet behind your curtain partition and next-door's. Your heart aches for the stranger. You wonder if they had family, if they were loved. You're overwhelmed with the urge to leave the ER. Someone else needs your bed. Someone out in the fray.

Someone who was screaming.

You were on your feet before you could talk yourself out of it, grabbing what few things your lover had managed to scrounge together for you before leaving you at the doors. The beeping persists, ringing in your ears as you throw back the curtain and walk straight into a hard back.

Dr Abbot turns slowly towards you, or at least it seems that way as you sway on your feet. A wave of nausea hits you so hard you stagger backwards but thankfully Dr Abbot already had his hands out to catch you and hold you steady. Could he really move that fast?

"Woah there," his voice is soft. "I was just about the check in on you. Where d'you think you're goin'?"

You blink slowly. Your head throbs. Your eyes hurt. You squint at him. He looks different. Why is that? Sluggishly, your brain orders you to drop your head and take him all in… His scrubs are covered in blood, so are his hands, and specks of it are on his face and neck. The voice, the one who commanded a T.O.D, was his.

You meet his eyes. How long had you been asleep? His eyes were now mirthless; still soft but serious.

Even when you puked over his shoes.

Head CTs weren't as cool as they looked in TV shows. You were cold, oddly vulnerable, and all alone. There were no speakers for the doctors to speak with you, no microphone for you to speak to them. Just you and the rumbling of the moving machine.

Dr Abbot had been a saint. You assumed he had to be because of his profession but you knew that once whatever drowsiness had passed, you would be re-living the moment puke was on his shoes forever. Even if he smiled and joked about it after.

God. That was embarassing.

Porters wheel you back to your small section of peace quickly once you're done with your CT. No one is speaking to you about the results and you cannot decide if that's a good or bad thing. Once you're back and safely nestled, you make a grab for your phone. No missed calls or texts from… Anyone.

Cool.

Great.

You wonder if you should let your family know and then opt against it. You don't need to worry them. It's nothing.

You hope.

An hour of doomscrolling passes by in a nauseating ebb and flow of ER casualties until Dr Abbot reappears with fresh scrubs and a small smile. You don't feel like smiling, but you somehow manage one.

"Good news," He says, coming to stand at the side closest to you. "CT is normal. So, most likely you had a concussion."

You raise an eyebrow at him and he looks sheepish. "Sometimes a concussion doesn't present for hours, sometimes days." Then he flashes you a grin. "Got me back good though. I needed a new pair of shoes."

You groan into the side of your pillow at the reminder. "You're welcome."

He snorts a little and presses some keys on the monitor beside you. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Puke is better than some other bodily fluids."

Like blood? You want to say, but press your lips together and hum non-committally. You doubt he needs that reminder.

"How are you feeling?"

"About as good as I look." You sigh, flexing your fingers in front of your face idly.

"Well, you look pretty good to me." Abbot says. He's not looking at you when you whip your head up. He taps something else into the monitor. "And you're awake and speaking, so that's a bonus."

You open your mouth and close it again. Did he just say what you thought he said?

"We'll up your fluids and monitor you a bit longer. You may be discharged tomorrow sometime or the day after."

"Okay." You say blinking at him like he's a dream.

He turns to you again. "Why were you trying to leave?"

"Huh?"

"Before," he says, resting his arms on the side of your cot. "You looked like you were in a hurry."

You swallow the last of the spittle in your mouth and look away from him. In the quietest voice you can muster, you tell him why.

"I heard what happened next door."

At first you don't think he heard you, and you're about to change your answer to something less honest when he sighs gently. His shoulders slump, his demeanour more exhausted than relaxed, and his hands open and close tightly.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"I'm sorry." You blurt suddenly. "I... your job... it's..." You curse the concussion that muddles your brain. You want to be able to ease the burden of his role, but you know he's heard it all before. You sigh, slumping into your uncomfortable cot pillow. "You did the best you could. I just felt anxious. Like someone else could have needed this bed more than me."

"Thank you." There's a sincerity in his tone that warms your chest. A little something to ease the sounds of the E.R. "That's not entirely true though. If you'd left you could have collapsed in the street, or at home, and choked on your own vomit." He says matter-of-factly and then smiles a little. "At least with you here, I get to keep a close eye on you."

More beeps and bloops sound and someone calls his name but it feels like time stretches. You watch him. He watches you. And for a moment, you could swear this is a little more than a doctor-patient interaction. You dismiss your doctor with a half-hearted wave and a small smile when his name is called again. "Go get 'em, Doc. You're dismissed."

He snorts in disbelief before playfully saluting you as he steps out into the chaos. "Yes, ma'am."

Abbot returns another five times before the end of his shift. He says it's to check in on you but you think it's for reprieve of the cluster-bomb that is the emergency room. Each time, he arrives tired and each time he leaves slightly more envigorated.

"Why would he just leave?" Abbot says, brows furrowed in disgust. It was his third visit, clearly emboldened by the events that had transpired beyond your curtain partition.

"You gotta ask him that, Doc." You say with a half smile. He looks so sweetly baffled by the prospect of someone leaving you after being part of the cause that sent you to the E.R., that you feel a tug in your chest that you hope isn't an underlying condition.

"Oh, believe me. If he calls come find me. I have a few choice words for him." He harumphs.

"Easy Tiger," You tease with a knowing smirk. "I don't think he will be calling anytime soon."

He coughs, pretending to clear his throat as he checks your charts, but by the rosy cheeks and his smile - you know your tease was a success. Perhaps this thing you had going on wasn't all in your concussed head.

"Good." He swallows. "It isn't my place to say but if I were you, I'd be breaking up with my girlfriend over something this."

You raise your eyebrows at him and a half-manic grin spreads across your face. "He wasn't my boyfriend." You say.

"Oh." Abbot's eyebrows raise too.

"Yeah." You say, watching him. "I dodged a real loser."

"You most certainly did." He says, snapping the thin folder shut. Something about his expression seems strange; not in a bad way, more that his brain had realised there was a second option he had not yet considered. He opens his mouth to say something and grimaces as his name gets yelled from the ambulance bay doors. "I'll be right back."

You nod and watch him jog away, before hearing him intercept a patient on their way to a bay, cussing them out for yelling at the nurses. You bite back a smile; somehow the hospital visit is turning out to be better than you expected.

You've managed to sleep a little more and are far less nauseated than you had been earlier in the nigh; all good signs according to Dr Abbot, though you tell him you wished you had a cappuccino in hand. As the clock creeps closer to 7 a.m. you see Abbot less and less as he prepares handover for day shift. It's a strange feeling. You feel like you're going to miss him but you also feel stupid for feeling such a thing towards a doctor, whose literal job it is to take care of you.

The curtain opens and Abbot's face appears, grey curls sticking out in odd directions and a warm smile on his face. Behind him is another man, another doctor, of a similar age but with darker hair, a beard and a sad Droopy-esque demeanour. They play off eachother wonderfully.

"This is dayshift attending Dr Robinavitch," Abbot tells you, and Dr Robby nods behind him, hiding a smile into folded arms. "He'll watch over you for me."

"Call me Dr Robby," the doctor behind Abbot says.

You struggle to keep a straight face. "For a concussion?"

Dr Robby half turns away from you, unable to keep a grin underwraps and shakes his head. Dr Abbot shrugs and, at a very endearing attempt at acting nonchalant, tells you that it's protocol. When they leave, you can hear Robby's sarcastic tone carry back through the curtain,

"Protocol?"

Day-shift was somehow worse than night-shift. The noise was unbearable, and with only luke-warm hospital food to keep your hunger at bay and no Dr Abbot to brighten your mind-numbing hours in the hospital bed, you were so far beyond agitated you didn't know what to do.

To Dr Robby's credit, he checked in where he could. But unlike his night-shift counterpart, he was curt and quick. Other, more pressing matters needed his attention.

At 2pm, you were asking every nurse or student doctor to be released. Each one told you they would ask Dr Robby. Each time, they never came back with an answer. It wasn't until 3pm that you heard there had been a major pile up and emergency traffic was being redirected to the hospital, as it was closest. At 4pm, you heard a familiar voice rushing in through the ambulance bay, emergency bed wheels squeaking as they were pushed and pulled around the E.R.

You got up to peek through the curtain, half convinced that you had made up hearing Abbot's voice. However, he was there, helping a patient breathe through a balloon and barking orders at student doctors. It was a sight to behold. You couldn't do what he was doing, but you respected it. You thought about when you'd last seen him hours ago. He looks a little rested, though not much. He must have been called back to help.

Once the patient was stable, Abbot handed the patient over to the nurses and porters to move them into a room. He sighed to himself and then glanced up, meeting your eyes across the E.R.

Then, he smiled.

Your hand gripped the curtain tight as you forced yourself to not whip it closed. Your face was burning up - but not from a fever - and you managed a smile that you knew looked incredibly bashful and waved with your free hand. He half raised his back when someone called his name and he was gone again. Hyperfocused on another patient.

You back into your cubicle, grateful you don’t have a heart monitor attached to you. You can't be making this up. But then again, even if you were reading into it too much, had you not already embarassed yourself to the point of no return? What would adding one little question to test the waters do?

You hum to yourself, mind made up, before marching out of your cubicle to the charge nurse.

Dana, the dayshift charge nurse, was a sassy blonde haired woman that instantly captured your heart. She commanded the E.R. and it's staff in way that left you awestruck, and she still managed to joke and tease along her way.

"I only have a concussion," you tell her as more casualties wheel in.

"Only a concussion?" Dana retorts sarcastically. "Where's your icepack?"

You wave her question away. The thought of another icepack gives you a headache. "I need to be out of that cubicle."

"No can do, honey." Dana sighs. "Head injury-"

"I'll sit in a chair, nearby." You interject quickly. "I won't leave. But-"

Abbot's voice cuts through, calling for a place for his next emergency patient. Before Dana can reply, you shout over pointing to your vacated cubicle.

"Use mine!"

He's about to argue, flabbergasted you're even suggesting such a thing, but Dana snorts from beside you and hurriedly directs to nurses in to whip away your old sheets and disinfect the bed. As Abbot pushes the cart past you, patient groaning in pain, he shoots you a concerned and almost disappointed look, before telling you to stay put.

The noises from behind the curtain blend into the monstrosity of noise where you stand, gripping the few of your belongings. You can't tell how long the minutes stretch, but then Abbot and two student doctors reappear relieved. Abbot directs them to the colourful screen before making a beeline for you.

"You shouldn't have-"

"He needs it more than me."

You both stare at eachother for a second before breaking into shy smiles. The flutter in your stomach this time around doesn't make you worried for Abbot's shoes.

"Thanks." Abbot says. "How're you feeling?"

"Better now that you're back." You instantly cringe at your response, but Abbot chuckles. You can feel at least three pairs of eyes watching you both, and a creeping sensation rises on your neck. You don't want to bottle out from nerves but with so many people around-

"Glad to hear it." His name is called again, and he looks agitated. "If you can wait around a little bit longer, I'll do a last check up and discharge you. Princess will find you a chair."

As he weaves through the busy rush of patients, visitors, doctors, nurses and porters, he turns back to look at you. "Don't go anywhere."

Don't plan to, you think as you watch him disappear.

Watching Abbot is mesmerising. Now that you're a bit more lucid, and have a front row seat to the E.R. chaos, you can truly appreciate the fast and strenuous work the doctors, nurses and porters do. Abbot hypes up his team, barks orders and then dips into room after room, dealing with case after case.

A couple of nurses gossip in hushed tones when Abbot comes past and shoots you a wink or a smile. You are well aware you're staring after him with a scorching face. If only you were hidden away behind your curtain again.

For a while, you don't see him. You're too busy doomscrolling again and messaging loved ones to let them know your condition, hoping they don't worry too much. Just as you begin wondering how much longer he'd be, Dr Abbot rounds a corner and holds up two to-go cups. He almost crashes into another patient being wheeled elsewhere in the building, only avoiding them by standing on his tiptoes and raising the cups above his head like a rather comical ballerina. When he reaches you, he checks the cups and hands one that has cap scrawled onto the side in black marker.

"You remembered." You say, taking the cup from him.

"I did." He says with a boyish smile. "But it may be cold by now. People just keep getting injured and it's almost like it's my job to fix it."

You chuckle lightly and take a sip. It is indeed cold but it's both the best and worst cappuccino you have ever had. "Thanks. For the coffee and, well," You shrug awkwardly. "Taking care of me."

Abbot taps his medical badge to where it reads doctor in block capital and you feel yourself smile again as you look at the cup in your hands.

"Well, as of," he checks his watch, "-Two minutes ago, you are no longer my patient."

"Ah." You're about to ask if you can go home but he continues.

"And as of two minutes ago, I'm on my break." He nods his head towards the exit doors. "I'll walk you out."

The evening air is lukewarm but it's cooler in comparison to the Emergency Room nevertheless.

You sip your cold coffee and fall into step alongside Abbot. "Will you be staying until your next shift is over?"

"Most likely." He says.

"Yikes." You shake your head in disbelief. "I do not envy you."

"Most people do." He says, sipping his drink. "I think it's the silver fox look I have going on rather than my shift pattern though."

You snort. "Mmhmm. That sounds about right."

"How're you feeling?" He asks after a beat. "Head ok?"

"I've been told my head's great," you joke and he half chokes on his coffee. "But yes, I feel a lot better being out in the fresh air."

"In that case, I can confidently send you on your way home." He says with a grin. "Although, I will say take some rest rather than romps for a few days."

"Where's the fun in that?" You say to the sky. Abbot huffs a half laugh. "I promise to be a good girl, Doc. No fun for me for a while."

"I didn't say anything about not having fun," Abbot says playfully. "And call me Jack. I'm not your doctor anymore."

You spare a glance over at him, eyebrows partially raised in questioning; Does that means what I think it means? He meets your glance with raised eyebrows of his own, a smile and a tilt of his head that says, "Yes - it's exactly what you think it means."

Nodding, you hide a satisfied smirk behind your cup. "So, what happens now?"

"For starters, you go home and rest." Jack says seriously. "Then when you feel up to it, give me a call." He points to your cup and you turn it slightly, where there's a number scrawled on the other side.

Oh, he's too smooth.

You can't believe you missed it and you shake your head with a laugh. "Do all of your patients get this special treatment?"

"Only the pretty ones." Jack says it playfully but from the glimmer in his eyes, something tells you it was a rare occurrence. "And not all of them get coffee."

"You are unbelievable." You scoff. "But I suppose having a doctor on-hand for other sex mishaps would be beneficial."

"If it means you boost my hospital rating then, yes, yes it is." Jack nods, placing a hand over his heart. "Patient care and comfort is the most important thing to me."

You chuckle, taking another sip of your drink. "I heard you telling a patient to shut the fuck up."

He shrugs, and swigs the dregs of his drink, before checking his watch. "Eh. Deserved it, he was insulting the nurses."

"Very deserved." You agree. "Need to head back?"

He looks disappointed but nods, resigning to his duty as a doctor. "Yeah. It's going to be a long shift. Let me know when you get home safe."

"I will." You tell him, loading up Uber on your phone. "And Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." He grins at you, and you can't help but grin back. "Again."

"You can thank me again over dinner sometime." He replies as he walks back towards the road. "Consider the coffee a free trial."

"A free-?" You laugh as he rushes across the road as an ambulance sounds in the distance. "Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into?"

End

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A bell rings out as another order is completed. Your sunglasses are dark enough to conceal what, or more namely who, your eyes follow.

The Pool Boy.

Or well, pool man may be more accurate.

From what you understood he was also the resort manager - why he was carting drinks to patrons you weren't sure. But you definitely were not complaining. The eye candy you were getting was the cherry on top of your sun kissed day.

You felt like a bit of a perv, sure, but hot damn - when life gives you lemons you put them in a marg and call it a day. Long legs flaunted by swim trunks; loose enough to be respectful but tight enough to leave little to the imagination, and thick arms that had a dusting of coarse hair that glowed hot copper in the sunlight. The hair on his arms matched that on his chest, travelling down a toned abdomen.

In a word; delicious.

You lick your lips subconsciously as he leans over to place a beer on a table, trying and failing to draw your attention back to your book. It's not until he begins walking in your direction that your eyes are pulled from the words on the page again.

He sets down another marg next to your half empty one. You look down at the drink and then back at him, your eyebrows raising over the top of your sunglasses.

"I didn't order this." You say lightly. The charming smile he offers in return just about knocks your flip flops off your feet.

"I know." He says. "On the house."

"I don't believe the resort would just hand out free drinks," you say teasingly, and lower your sunglasses enough to shoot him a quizical look. "Surely that's a bad business practice."

His grin broadens. "Alright, you got me. It's on me." He straightens, towering over you, providing more shade than your umbrella. "Management special."

"I didn't know favouritism in resort management was a thing." You say, pretending to focus back on your book. "Would I be allowed to make special requests?"

He shifts on his feet and huffs a chuckle. "Depends. What are they?"

"For you to come to my room again. Ditch the trunks." You respond nonchalantly, lifting your new, cold marg to sip. You revel when you awkwardly chuckles and shifts again, cheeks growing pink.

He lowers his voice, "That could be arranged for you."

"Good." You sigh, settling into your lounger again. "See that it does, Ari."

END

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