The rest of your day was great - save for the nagging thought at the back of your mind; not in a relationship like that.

Steve is a gentleman through and through, however. After a breakfast of toast and coffee, Steve insists that you both go into the town for a small day out.

"It'll help Buck and Alpine settle in too." He says quietly, sidling closer as he nurses his coffee. "Besides, I want to get to know you some more."

"Mmhmm." You smile up at Steve, almost standing on your tiptoes. "For totally chivalrous reasons, I'm sure."

Steve chokes on a laugh and his cheeks burn red at your light teasing. "Totally chivalrous, I promise."

After getting dressed and presentable, you hop in Steve's car and he drives you into town. Shop til you drop was an understatement - thank God you had a supersoldier alpha on hand to carry your bags. You didn't have much to buy in terms of groceries, you cooked and shopped far too much before Steve and Bucky's arrival to keep a small zoo in business for at least a week, but snacks and some household items were a must.

Steve didn't seem to mind that people stared, very few hushed whispers and pointing thankfully. The only problem was that Steve kept piling so many snacks in your cart that you felt bad for telling him to put some back, and he'd attempt to guilt you into letting him keep some. By the fourth or fifth time, when he comes back to the cart with his arms full as you're deciding between two scented fabric softeners, you laugh at him.

"Seriously? You're going to eat all that junk?"

"You'd be surprised." He grins, dumping it in the cart. "Besides it's for Bucky too."

Of course. You think to yourself.

"And I want you to pick out some things too." Steve says, haughing both fabric softeners out of your arms and into the cart. "Pretzels can't be your only choice."

"I like pretzels," you argue weakly. "And I've made cookies and cakes back home."

"Not even a tub of ice cream?" Steve presses, raising his eyebrows.

"No." You laugh and turn away from him, only to feel the warm press of his arms as they snake around your waist, holding you to him as he buries his face into your neck.

"Not one treat for my 'mega?" He asks teasingly, kissing behind your ear. "Come on. There's gotta be something I can spoil you with."

You bite your lip, trying to hide a smile. You were debating on whether or not to be cheeky, considering your conversation not two hours earlier in bed, but opt to try your hand anyway. "The thing I want is so much better than ice cream that I'd sacrifice both Ben and Jerry to have it. And I think if I wait it out, I'll be spoiled rotten."

"Oh- um- wow," Steve breathes, heat pouring from his cheeks. "Well, you're not wrong."

You chuckle lightly, your own blush gracing your cheeks. "Was I too forward?"

"Not at all." Steve assures you with a quick kiss. "But we need to finish shopping before there's a clean up on aisle five."

The quip catches you off guard and a burst of laughter escapes you. Your alpha was full of surprises - it was only when you thought of your beta back home that you started worrying about your life together.

"Come on, think of a treat." Steve insists. "That isn't me." He nods his head at an old biddy passing by who had given you both a sideways glance. "Ma'am."

That does it. You burst into a fit of giggles. Steve chuckles and his grin is wide as he steers you and the cart further down the aisle. You're still giggling when you get to the bottom, and when Steve presses a warm kiss to your cheek, it stuns you to silence.

"I love hearing you laugh." He says, watching you intensely with glimmering blue eyes. "I think it may be my favourite sound."

It's so corny but somehow, with the sincerity of his voice and the way he looks at you, it's not corny at all. It makes you melt like butter on a hot day. Your heart flutters and you're at a loss for words. He's like Prince Charming - not one bad bone in his tall, hot bod.

With the help of Steve, your errands for the daily go by quicker and smoother. It's a wonder you ever managed to get anything done without your alpha around. Your alpha. Your eyes flutter and you sigh happily at the thought, prompting Steve to lift his head from your chest.

"You okay?"

Since coming home, Steve offered to watch a movie with you as your errands were done - which meant that you now had a Steve-shaped blanket lying on top of you. Not that you minded, of course; having Steve's scent all over you was such a wonderful thing. However, the guilt still nagged at you. Bucky belonged here too. Somehow. His scent was subtle, but almost indiscernable. You wondered how all three of you were supposed to fit together as a pack.

"'M okay." You half-lie. No use worrying Steve over something he presumes is nothing.

"Good." Steve places his head back down, above your heart. You knew he'd hear it thud harder now, and smiled.

Bucky had apparently gone on a walk - a walk that had lasted two hours - and you're unable to truly focus on the movie. Where had he gone to? Would he be back for dinner? Would he take to you as quickly as Steve had?

Would he ever grow to just like you?

"It's hard," he groans into your chest, startling you from your thoughts.

"I'd hate to ask what is, Steve." You chortle, rubbing the back of his head. He puffs out a warm breath - an attempt at holding back a spark of laughter.

"You're terrible." He says and then, more seriously adds, "It's hard to resist you. I don't know how normal that is."

"Resist?" You grin. "I know you want to take things slow but you don't have to resist anything." You brush a golden lock back into place. "If I was uncomfortable, I'd tell you."

"I've been trying so hard to keep my hands off you." Steve murmurs into your neck as his hands wrap around your hips and squeeze you to him. "I'm so relieved that I can hold you like this."

His face pops up, looking at you with a stricken gaze. "It is okay, right?"

"It's okay," you reassure him, trailing a finger down his cheek before tipping his head to kiss him softly. "More than okay, my sweet alpha."

Steve's cheeks blossom to rose red and he grins before resting his head back onto your chest. Alpine wanders past you both with a loud meow, dragging her white fluffy tail along Steve's legs and then to your wrist. She holds it with her tail before turning around with a short meep of contentment and leaping onto Steve's back.

Your alpha doesn't even startle, he only softly chides Alpine for making biscuits between his shoulder blades. She rubs her face on the back of his head and it makes your chest tight - doubly so when you politely offer her your hand and she graces you with a face-rub of approval.

"You're beautiful and you know it." You tell her fondly, gently scratching the top of her head.

"Me or the cat?" Steve asks.

"The cat, obviously." You say sarcastically before placing a kiss on Steve's head. "But I guess you're okay too."

"Only okay?" Steve chuckles. "I've been told I'm incredibly handsome."

"You are? Hadn't noticed." You say coyly, letting a small giggle escape as Steve's hands softly tickle at your sides.

Feeble attempts to wriggle away go thwarted - you're pinned in place. Steve's nose brushes against the underside of your jaw with a tender kiss to follow. You shiver and drop your head, unable to duck it under his chin, you settle for bumping your forehead with his.

Steve takes a deep breath that rumbles his chest. "You're mine."

The natural possessiveness of the statement makes heat blossom between your legs, his scent filling your nostrils in an inescapable air. You try to control the urge but it's harder than you expect - harder than any heat you've previously experienced with a toy or another alpha... but not your alpha.

It's only thanks to Alpine who digs her claws into Steve's back to make biscuits; clearly upset by the fact your wiggling had disturbed her. Steve seemed to snap out of his trance with a yelp, and when you glance up on a small laugh, Bucky is stood on the threshold of the living room door. You can't read his face well in the dim lighting and he doesn't move until you address him.

"Hey Bucky," you smile at him, Steve pushes up to twist his head around to look at his best friend. "How was your walk?"

"Good." Bucky says stepping into the room, face still unreadable. "Were you trying to traumatise Alpine?"

Steve's ears go red. "No!"

Alpine meows in defiance, bumping her head against Bucky's fingers as he comes close. "Hrm. Don't believe you."

Focusing on Bucky's eyes, you can see a hint of sadness, perhaps even despair. However, it disappears when he feels you perceiving him and offers a small, smile. Picking up Alpine and cradling her in his arms, he walks into the kitchen.

"What were they doing, huh? Scarring you for all of your nine lives?" He murmurs teasingly to a happy, purring Alpine. "Don't worry, dad's protect you."

Once Bucky has disappeared and the sound of the kettle echoes from the kitchen, you look down at Steve's bashful face.

"Taking it slow, right?"

Over the following week Steve had become, for lack of a better word, utterly obsessed with you. He was always near you, finding any excuse to have contact with you in some way, especially at night when he would practically glue himself to you. It was all sunshine and rainbows until you'd remember Bucky was nearby. Then you'd feel horrid, despite their insistence that everything was completely a-okay. You weren't oblivious to the longing or the caring looks shared between them, or the fact that Bucky was being forced to be a third wheel in his own pack.

How could anyone possibly be okay with that?

A kiss to your neck snaps you from your thoughts and you naturally turn your head to meet Steve's lips; something that had become second-nature in your weeks together. Bucky was out on another one of his walks, another thing you had become accustomed to. It was like he couldn't stand to be around when you and Steve were together.

"Bucky should be a while." Steve murmurs into your ear. "We have the house to ourselves."

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?" You question with a cheeky raised brow.

"We can still take it slow," He says, eyes glinting mischievously. "I want to take my time ruining you. But tonight, I need to taste you on my tongue."

You didn’t need telling twice.

You side-step around him and dart out of the kitchen with a laugh, racing up the stairs with Steve hot on your heels - dinner forgotten. You're pinned face down on your bed before you can even think of your next move, with Steve pressing his stiffening cock against your ass. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he whispers, "I've been wanting to do this for so long."

He flips you easily. His mouth on yours as strong hands push up the skirt of your dress. Before you can comprehend, his head is between your legs, pulling your panties down to your ankles and burying his face between your folds. You sit up with a gasp, attempting to push his head away but he persists, with strong arms wrapped around the back of your knees like anchors. He's clumsy - which was to be expected when he'd given you a run-down of his very brief dating history. However, despite a few missed swipes with his tongue, he's a fast learner; and he listens to every twitch and moan so intently that within mere minutes you're cumming over his face with a gasp of his name.

He peeks over the skirt of your dress, looking incredibly proud as he states, "I could do that all day."

You chuckle and playfully swipe at him as he moves above you, kissing every inch of skin that he can until his lips meet yours. You open your mouth to him, letting him brush his tongue against yours, the taste of your cum sweet. You purr and he growls, a large hand cupping at your pussy. He watches your face as a long finger pushes into your tight hole, waiting for you to adjust before adding another.

Your walls squeeze his fingers tightly and you whimper as he starts moving them in and out with slow purpose. He leans back off of you, looking down to watch how your cunt sucks in his fingers, and with his free hand, rubs your clit gently.

You clench and moan. It feels so good. Two weeks of pressure threatening to spill and your alpha knows it. He takes advantage of it.

"Your pussy is so pretty," Steve says softly, mesmerised at the sight of your cum glistening around his knuckles with each pump of his fingers. "Look at how well she takes my fingers."

You suck in a breath. He's not one for cursing usually, and hearing such a goody two shoes utter filth flips a feral switch in your brain.

"Steve- ah - alpha." Your voice drips with need as your head falls back. Steve takes the opportunity to finger fuck you quicker, rubbing your clit in tight circles, face as close as it can get to yours.

"Yes." He rumbles. "Say my name when you cum."

You don't just say it - you scream it; breathing erratic as Steve removes his fingers, and kisses yous softly before cleaning your cum from his fingers with a delighted hum.

"You taste delicious." He tells you with a boyish grin. "I can't wait to do that again." He kisses your forehead. "And again." Then your nose. "And again." Then your lips. "And again."

You huff a smile, eyes drowsy and half lidded. "What about you?"

Steve shakes his head, smiling. "I want to wait until we're bonded. I want to feel how you feel when I fill you."

You blush, heat spreading all over your body. "That doesn't mean I can't help you out."

Steve shakes his head again. "No, it doesn't. But I'd like to see you try and keep that pretty face focused when I make you cum more times than you can count."

You hum, half-mad at the truth of his statement, and half-excited.

"Besides I'm hungry," Steve announces, kissing your nose again. "And your food smells good."

He moves out of your reach quickly, laughing when you can't quite sit upright due to his earlier actions.

"Come on, Sweetheart, before it burns." He teases, purposefully staying out of reach as you grab for him.

"Steven," you hiss playfully, fighting back a smile. "You ruined me so the least you can do is help me up."

"Oh, you're right." Steve says dumbly before rushing forward and hoisting you up in his arms. You squeal and smack gently at his back. Steve retaliated but smacking the bare cheeks of your ass under your dress. It's a sharp pain that disappears quickly but one that has you stock still save for a squeeze of your thighs. "How silly of me, let me help you downstairs."

You're both laughing as he carries you with ease down the flight of stairs, when he stops suddenly.

"Hi Buck." Steve's says and you want to crawl into a hole and die.

Steve's hand is still on your ass, under your dress. You aren't wearing panties, either. And, to top it all off, there is no hiding the scent of your cum both from between your legs and on Steve's face and fingers.

"Uh, hey... you two."

You can feel heat radiate from Steve. He feels as embarassed as you do. You grimace and drop your head.

"Hi." You say quietly. "I have chicken on for dinner."

"Oh." Bucky says and then clears his throat. "Good... um..." he stalls and then hurriedly says, "I'm going to go up and take a shower."

"Oh, sorry, we'll just-" Steve steps out of Bucky's way, with you still over his shoulder. "-be waiting down here for you."

"Okay." You hear Bucky's footsteps disappear up the stairs, and you can feel Steve look up after him.

You hold in your sigh. Something told you that Steve had thought he had more time alone with you - just you.

And that same something told you he felt guilty about it.

End

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Bathing/Washing | Crying | Religion/Blasphemy

Food/Feeding | Livestream | Slapping

Masks/Muzzles | Weapon Play | Hate Sex

Body Art | Risk/Danger | Vampirism/Blood

Voice kink | Bimbo/Himbofication | Tickling

Size Difference | Trampling | Foot Jobs

Make-up | Plushies | BDSM Society AU

Wet/Messy | Why Choose | High Protocol

Drugs/Alcohol | Biting/Scratching | Dirty Talk

Pervertables | Anal Training | Swinging

FinDom(me) | Bondage Underclothes | Smoking

Fox Hunt | Ravishment | Forced Orgasm

Waxing/Shaving | Free Use | Cuckold/Cuckquean

Anonymous Sex | Furry/Anthro | Lap Dance

Bladder Control | Human furniture | Fisting

Sex Pollen | Nyotaimori | Orgies/Group Sex

Edging | Clothed Dom/Naked Sub | Bratting

Play Party | Breath Play | Belly/Throat Bulge

Spreader Bar | Fear Play | Abduction

Monsterous Biology | Aquaphilia | Leaving Marks

Fighting/Wrestling | Psychic Bond | Praise Kink

Peep Show | Hybristophilia | Mummification

Spitting | Tribadism/Frottage | Panty Stuffing

Boot Blacking | Clothed Sex | JOI

Oversized Dildo | Daddy/Mommy Kink | Obedience

Pet Play | Ben Wa Balls | Humiliation

High Heels | Interrogation | Pro Dom(me)/Pro Sub

Auction | Behavior Modification | Glove Kink

Chained | Fucking Machine | Knotting

Snowballing | Glory Hole | Phone Sex Hotline

When your good eye creaks open, encrusted with what must be sleep or maybe even blood, you're not too sure where you are. The light is blinding and after a momentary panic that you were crossing over, your optical nerve comes to life and you blink a hospital room into existence.

It's overstimulating. The white light from the window. The beep of your heart monitor. The breathing of someone next to you. Someone? You turn your head, slowly, though it doesn't help the pain.

It's a man. Your heart leaps, monitor beeping a little faster - Bucky? - but when your brain registers that he has chubby proportions and Sheriff's hat over his sleeping eyes, you know it's Bodecker.

"Hey. Close the curtains." your voice is hoarse. Barely there. But Bodecker still startles awake.

"Jesus Christ." He hisses under his breath, hands gripping the arms of the chair. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he'd seen a ghost.

He gets up quickly and draws the curtains closed, crossing the room again with measured, quieter steps. The room is dark, blissfully dark again, save for the dim glow of the nightlight next to you. Your head sinks into the lumpy pillow and you sigh.

"It wasn't Bucky." Are the next words out of your mouth.

Bucky had admitted to you in passing once that, whilst Bodecker could be a lazy son of a bitch, he often helped Bucky and his gang and could be trusted with some things. Other more serious crimes, especially to do with women and kids, Bodecker tended to lock-in like a dog with a bone and would enlist the help of Bucky if need be. But circumstances like that were rare in Briarridge - a quiet scenic town. Bodecker was more likely

"I know it wasn't Bucky." Bodecker sighs. It's exasperated - lack of sleep making him grumpier than usual. "That dumbass is many things but a wife-beater ain't one. Besides," Bodecker snorts. "He was on the scene not long after us."

If you could blink in surprise, you would. "He was?"

"Yep." Bodecker says re-taking his seat, the small chair creaking uncomfortably beneath him. "And he's in holding 'til-" he checks his watch before flashing you a soft smile. "Ten a.m."

"Do I want to ask why he's in holding?" You try to keep your voice level, unsure if you wanted to smile or be furious with Bucky.

"One of my officers wouldn't let him through, you know, active crime scene and all." Bodecker leans back, laying his fingers together over the pudge of his stomach. "Y'can imagine how well that went down."

"I said I'd stick with you 'til you woke up. That seemed to calm him down." When you focus your blurry gaze you can see the sheriff smile kindly at you. "He's real sweet on you, darlin'. I don't think I've ever seen him like this about a woman before."

"Thanks." You say weakly.

You can't tell if the acidic feeling in your chest is fury at Bucky for not being here when you woke up, heartburn, or the anxious need to be held by your boyfriend. Boyfriend.

Before you can ruminate further on the word, it's meaning and the mess of feelings stirring in your gut, your room door slams open; startling you and the sheriff.

"Goddammit, Federson!" Bodecker barks furiously at his deputy, a young guy who looks like a skittish hare locked in the eyes of an oncoming truck. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Federson's eyes lock onto you and he visibly pales, stuttering out a response. You must look like hell. "I- I- um sorry, sheriff I was jus' wondering if I could get anything?"

Bodecker's lips twitch upwards into a cold smirk as he addresses his deputy. "Go 'n get some cocoa, Ferderson. Two cups."

Ferderson nods and backs out of the room, still looking a little green around the gills. It makes you want to laugh - but you don't know why. Bodecker turns back to you, his blue eyes cold and piercing through the dim light of your room - before softening.

"I'm sorry about him, darlin'. He's..." Bodecker tries to think of a polite word before settling on, "...young."

"It's alright," you try to smile, but it hurts too much. Bodecker seems to notice and his gaze hardens.

"I can't promise ya I'll find the sonuvabitch that did this," He half growls. "But believe me, I'll damn sure try."

You don't need to look at him to know he's telling the truth. You can hear it in his voice - the promise - and whilst you're too weak to answer more than a meager thank you, you know that Bodecker can see the fat tear of appreciation roll down your cheek.

Ferderson returns, awkwardly sloshing himself with cocoa as he enters. He hands a cocoa each to you and Bodecker, hands shaking, before wiping his hands on his perfectly pressed pants.

"Thanks Ferderson. I need you to speak with the nurses and start taking some statements."

"Sir?"

"If anyone has come in with any suspicious injuries lately. I doubt they have but we need to be thorough. I'll take her statement. When you're done, watch the door."

Ferderson looks like he's about to argue with his superior but thinks better of it and nods his head before disappearing again. Bodecker sighs. You know what's coming next. Bodecker has the decency to look pained to ask you about giving a statement, to relay the last few traumatic hours of your life onto a tiny voice recorder.

"'M sorry to have to ask you darlin' but are you feelin' up to givin' me your statement?"

The whole town would know about this by now. The new girl in town, who meddled with bikers, beaten and left for...

Well, you were unsure if they meant to leave you for dead or not.

The townsfolk would probably blame Bucky even though it wasn't him. So, that being said, you should probably make the statement and clear his name. Swallowing down bile, you nod, and begin to recount the evening.

You're not sure how you manage to hold it together. Bodecker is surprisingly sweet, handing you a hankie when he notices your lip quiver and a stray tear rolls down your cheek and he insists that it "ain't a problem, sugar" when you thank him for it.

When you finally reach the end of your beating, told with eerie calmness, Bodecker puts a warm hand over your cold one. He offers you a kind smile.

"It's okay, darlin'. You're doing great. You ain't got cameras or anything?" He asks gently.

Your eyes flicker from his to your handbag. "I was just about to tell you the rest..."

The masked men had taken you upstairs to where your apartment had been ransacked. You had kicked and screamed at first but after your foot had connected with the jaw of one of your assailants, you had been stunned to silence with a hard punch to the face and the threat of "giving you a real reason to cry."

The next two hours were brutal. Face bloodied from what you'd later find out was a broken nose, you endured a beating that left breaks and fractures when you couldn't and often refused to answer questions about Bucky and the White Wolves. The man who had threatened you with more than a beating was the main aggressor - taking great pleasure in your pain. He barked orders. A second was more stoic, joining in when the first got tired. And the third... he was meek. Scared. He was the one who finally convinced them to leave after two hours and no information could be pried from you.

"Tell Bucky that if doesn't leave this town, he'll have more than just one dead biker to grieve." The first one sneered, so close to your face that you could almost taste his rancid breath. Your blood turned to ice and you curled in on yourself and whimpered in terror and two of your assailants chuckled as they left.

You waited until they had descended the stairs and you heard the jingle of the bell above your door, before sobbing uncontrollably. It hurt. Everything hurt. Where was Bucky? You wanted him and needed him to be with you. You force yourself to sit up against the counter, the brief moment of vulnerability over. You shuffle painfully over to the stairs and, with your arms shaking, you lower yourself down onto the first step.

You either had a broken or bruised a rib because the pain that shot up through your nerves almost had you letting go of the stairs out of shock. Every step you lowered yourself down was agony. Cuts and bruises that had began to swell screamed everytime they brushed the wood but you persevered until you got to the foot of the stairs and took hollow breaths before dragging yourself to the café kitchen.

You kept your second laptop hidden in the café store cupboard in a fireproof lockbox with other important documents like the original copies of the deed to the café, insurances and your passport. It was only a cheap little thing, compact enough to fit in the lockbox and easy to access. You'd bought it not long after the fire at The Den, deciding it was better safe than sorry when you'd be housing and hooking up with the leader of a bike gang. You hadn't expected to be sorry so soon.

Another benefit of being with Bucky meant that you got to steal all of his good ideas like dummy cameras and after booting up the laptop, which took an unnecessarily long time, you logged in and brought up your security software. It wasn't a true security software - but nannycams were easily hidden, discreet cameras that could be placed in both your apartment, kitchen and café and go undetected... and were surprisingly easy to set up. You'd installed them your first week moving in, in fact the day after you first met Bucky. Thank God for self-preservation and modern technology.

The software flashes and six screens appear one by one. The kitchen, a camera in the store cupboard facing the lock box, three areas of your café (just above the counter, across the shop floor and facing the door) and the final shot of your tiny living room-cum-kitchen in your apartment.

Every camera still alive and well.

You breathe a painful sigh of relief and rummage the lockbox for your spare thumbdrives, another great idea you had implemented in case of an emergency such as this. You begin the painfully long process of downloading the last twelve hours of footage into a folder, struggling to steel yourself when flashes of your assailants or your broken body appear on the screen.

Standing with the help of the counter behind you, you hobble out to the kitchen and get yourself a glass of water, rinsing your mouth of blood. You contemplate calling Bucky for a second and decide against it. You don't know where your phone is other than upstairs, or if it's broken beyond repair. You swil out your mouth again. You also don't know if he'd answer.

Your body begs for a break, for respite. To cower in fear and to sleep on the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor but you refuse. You can't cry. It hurts too much, both emotionally and physically. You need to be strong. Resilient. You have to be what you need because no one else will help you but yourself.

You steel yourself against the counter as your legs threaten to betray you, adrenaline waning fast. You cross your arms and lean over the sink, crying out as your ribs take the weight of your body.

A hospital is what you need. Morphine. Darkness seeps to the corners of your vision. Goddammit. You're going to pass out again. You ease yourself to the floor and lie flat, letting the darkness claim you...

Thirty minutes. You're out cold for thirty minutes. It feels like an age. It takes you a moment to recognise your own café's kitchen; you're not used to seeing it from the floor. You feel more sluggish than earlier and your right eye swollen shut from one of the punches you'd had. Every move you make causes waves of pain and you swear up and down that you can hear bones grind together like crumpled paper.

The footage is almost finished transferring. Two copies. One for the cops. One for you. You can't trust anyone. You can't risk the footage vanishing like your assailants. You don't know who to trust from the police department. Bodecker seemed decent enough - but anyone with a vendetta against Bucky meant they couldn't be trusted to handle your case.

You silently promise yourself to omit the existence of a second copy in your statement to the police as you take a shaky sip of the remanants of luke-warm water in your glass. And to omit the existence of your lockbox. Those two pieces are need-to-know information for your closest allies and right now - that only seems to be you.

"A USB drive?" Bodecker looks wide eyed at the small thumb drive in your handbag. "You have cameras set up?"

"I'm a woman who lives alone." You say pointedly. "And last I checked a biker gang ran the town. Give me some credit, Sheriff."

Bodecker smiles sheepishly. "Well, props to you for being so conscientious, sugar. If we catch these guys we can make sure they go to jail. You have any family or friends you can call? Stay with?" Bodecker asks. "I know Bucky's dealin' with his own issues right now."

"'M not telling my family about this. If they knew they'd shackle me in the basement." You shake your head with a sigh. "Besides, I'm not about to be scared out of the town I built my business in. It ain't happening."

Bodecker's eyebrows raise and he smiles, impressed. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing till this blows over. But I can see why Bucky likes you. You're full of fighting spirit."

You manage a humorless smile that makes your jaw ache. "Thanks Sheriff. Just do me a favour?"

"Sure, sugar."

"Try to keep Bu-"

Before you can finish, there's a slam of doors followed by gasps and clatters of equipment.

"DOLL?!"

"Oh for God's sake." You groan, eyes fluttering shut as you lie back onto the uncomfortably lumpy hospital pillow. You don't know how Bucky managed to find your ward but he was the last person you wanted to see in this state after recounting hands-down the most traumatic event of your life.

Bodecker raises an eyebrow at you. "Want me to tell Ferderson to barricade the door?"

"You think that'll stop him?" You arch your crusty eyebrow at him and Bodecker sighs and shrugs, waving at his jittery deputy peeking through the small window to let Bucky through the door, hurriedly stuffing the USB into his breastpocket and getting to his feet.

Bucky all but shoves Ferderson out of the way to get to you but screeches to a halt once he sees your face. He visibly pales - just like Ferderson had - colour drained in an instant. God, you must really look like shit.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Bodecker glances at you one last time and nods curtly. "I'll be just outside - holler if you need anything."

You half-nod back, still unable to fully move your neck, and appreciate Bodecker's hidden meaning; that if you decide you don't want Bucky around, he'll remove him for you.

Bodecker claps Bucky on the shoulder as he passes and mumbles something to him, something that makes Bucky swallow harshly, blue eyes still wide and fixated on you. The sheriff nods again before giving Bucky a cautious once over, edging past and exiting the room. Your turn your head away to look at the wonderfully ugly hospital curtains over your window.

The room seems darker than you remember, colder too, and you find yourself unable to focus on the patterns of the curtains for very long without feeling sick. Instead you look at your bruised wrists and battered knuckles that attempted to block the blows and kicks of your assailants.

The silence is heavy, grounded in unspoken words. Minutes pass without a word between you.

"Who did this to you?"

You almost don't recognise Bucky's voice. It's quiet - too quiet - the dangerous undertone a growl away from being bone-chillingly calm. You don't bother looking up when you shrug.

"Don't know." You say, voice barely above a whisper. You don't trust yourself to speak louder for the same reason you can't look at Bucky; because you'd cry. "They wore masks."

What good was crying? Your fingers scrunch the thin material of your bedding and ache with pain but you can't bring yourself to care. Crying hurt too much.

"Did they say who they were?"

"Why the fuck would they tell me for?" You snap, whipping your head around regardless of the pain that sears down your neck, with eyes like a storm and you see Bucky visibly recoil at the sight of your swollen eye. Your lip quivers.

"I thought it was you." You say finally, voice jumping three octaves more than you would like. "I thought you had come back. I thought I was getting an apology. Or at least another argument."

Your voice wobbles as you recall stepping across the threshold of your home and hoping to see Bucky, only to find three masked men waiting for you. "And you weren't there."

Silence falls again, your words filled with venom and hatred although you know it's not Bucky's fault. Well - you supposed you could argue it wasn't if Bucky was normal - but then he wouldn't be Bucky.

You should tell him to get lost. You shouldn't let him stay. But after the night you've had, Bucky brings comfort and safety. He brings normal.

Your hands tremble with anger. Your ribs cage your heart and lungs squeezing hard, leaving no room for air. You want Bucky close, to feel those warm hands caress your swollen cheeks but you also wanted him out of your sight.

Looking across the room to your neatly folded, bloodied clothes on the sterile plastic armchair you let your body slump again. You're tired of fighting today. Tired of the games. It would do you no good to bite Bucky's head off for something out of his control. Still, it didn't change the fact that it happened because of him. The atrocity of your beating was a message intended for Bucky and the White Wolves and anyone else who stood by them.

You were a pawn in a game you weren't even playing. A game you very much didn't want to play and hadn't ever wanted to.

Your sigh fills the room. Bucky hasn't moved, hasn't spoken. You wonder what he's thinking.

Your anger isn't because you wanted him there to protect you - rather ironically, you had wanted him to be there in the aftermath as the comforting, unsung anti-hero of the hour like in a damn movie so that he would still remain safe. But this wasn't a movie. This was reality.

You blink away tears again. You weren't prepared to have this revelation today. You didn't want it and you certainly didn't need it.

"Why are you here?"

"To see you."

"You've seen me." Your voice holds no emotion only exhaustion.

"Not like this and you know it."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I came back."

You suck in a breath. "What do you mean?"

"I left Steve in charge. He was the one who convinced me to come back to you. To apologise." He explains. "Drove all the way without stopping. Thinkin' about where would be open to get you flowers, thinkin' of a real way to make it up to you... only to come back and find your café surrounded by cops and- and-"

He sniffs then and you purse your lips tight, willing yourself to hold back the dam of emotions threatening to overflow and overwhelm you. He came back. He came back.

"I'm sorry." He says finally, voice barely above a whisper. You hear the shuffle of biker boots across the sterile linoleum floor. "I should have been there. I should never have left. I should never had said it was just a café- God, I-"

Another step.

"Doll, I-" he sucks in a breath; harsh and quick. He soinds as broken as he looks. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

A touch. Fingers on your arm. You flinch. The fingers retreat. You still can't look at him. It hurts too much. Your face. Your ribs. Your heart. Maybe your liver too.

"No one would tell me anything." His knuckles wrap around the metal frame of your bed, tightening with creak. "I was so fucking scared that you were-" He stops himself, like he's unable to finish the sentence. So you do it for him.

"Dead? Worse?" You look over at him again amd wish you hadn't. He looks like a mess - annoyingly, still a hot mess - but his hair is windswept and his eyes downcast, gripping the side of your bed like he's on a roller coaster he can't get off. Yet, you can't bring yourself to be angry at him.

"Yippee for you I'm one tough cookie then huh?" You joke, though your voice wavers and in that split second you see Bucky's periwinkle blue eyes glance up to yours, red and wet with tears, and your already broken heart shatters.

Part of you wants to reach out and touch him. To wipe away his tears and assure him you're fine despite how you look - despite what your chart says. And part of you wants to tell him it's his fault your here.

Your hand is heavy when you lift it to rest on his and you breathe a sigh of contentment when you feel the cool of his rings indent into your flesh.

"Don't beat yourself up over it." You tell him softly, resigning to listen to your better part. "And don't go and do something stupid either. Well, stupid-er." You give him the best sideways glance you can. "Bodecker told me you got put in holding overnight."

Tears still roll down his cheeks as he lets out a sharp laugh of surprise. "Yeah. I did." He turns serious again. "Cupcake, I-"

"James." You cut him off with a sad smile. "Don't do that either."

"You don't even know what I was going to say." Bucky murmurs, his other hand encapsulating yours, thumb gently grazing your bruised knuckles.

"You were going to apologise. Again." You say. "It's not your fault."

"It is." Bucky argues back, voice breaking. "It's because of who I am. And I dragged you right into this mess because I-... because I couldn't help myself. Fuck - I wanted you so bad and was so-"

"Reckless?" You offer with a chuckle. "Which one of us looked at the leader of a biker gang and decided to slash his tyres? And who and invited him to temporarily live with her?" You shake your head lightly and squeeze his hand weakly. "You're lucky I'm stupid enough to love you."

There's a sharp intake of breath and for a moment you can't tell if it's from you or Bucky, until quivering lips wet with tears, press against your knuckles.

"I love you too, doll." Bucky whispers. "God, so much." He sniffs as he wipes away some of your tears from your cheek with a touch as soft as velvet. "Can I… Could I stay for a while? Please?"

"Sure." You give him a cheeky smile, ignoring the ache it causes. "It's your turn to play nurse."

"I don't think I'd make a very good nurse." His bottom lip quivers again as he releases a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes with his left hand and trying to keep another sniff quiet. Bucky moves into the seat Bodecker was previously in and scooches forward closer to your bed.

"I don't know - I think if you asked to borrow some scrubs you'd look pretty sexy." You murmur, eyes fluttering. "Or maybe that's the morphine talkin'."

"Shh, Cupcake." Bucky coos. "Rest up. I'm not leaving you again." Then more firmly, adds. "I promise."

"I don't wanna go to sleep," you sigh, eyes fully closed. "You came back."

"And I'll be here when you wake up this time." Bucky assures you, kissing your hands. "Go to sleep doll. I'm right here."

You hum in acknowledgement before drifting to sleep with a small smile on your lips.

You & Bucky: Tied

Part 8 END

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

A/N 2: I was tempted to have the fight go on longer but I must be in a loving mood today because this was their first I Love You too. ❤️

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

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 🫠😅

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

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 🫠😅

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

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 🫠😅

For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here

Tags for everything: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @brianochka @looking1016 @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @waywardwifey @peaches1958 @michaeladmorris @alexxavicry @lexie983 @wint3rbarnes @sunday-bug @barnes-babydoll @alicedopey @cakesandtom

The way he'd walked into the food hall had you captivated.

Confident but not arrogant, bloody, dirty and a face set in stone with eyes that shone like jewels in their sockets. He wore leathers and furs laden with weapons; and axe and a multitude of knives. The most prominent article of clothing was the bearskin he wore.

Rumour had it that when lost in the harsh wilderness after a battle, he had killed a bear and hidden inside it, skinning it's fur the following morning to stay warm as he ate the flesh over a fire.

That rumour alone was enough to terrify most other village chieftains into submission. But not all. He was a fierce fighter, a brilliant strategist. Up until four days ago he'd bested you father's men at every turn and hadn't lost a single soldier, prompting your father to call a truce as he reconsidered where his alliances truly lay as chieftain of a much smaller village.

You shifted nervously in your chair watching him approach. He was big, tall and broad and you could feel your heart begin to to prepare for a hundred metre dash. Exhaling slowly and quietly to compose yourself, you kept your head held high as your father did the song and dance of welcoming Curtis and his village people to the celebration, reminding yourself that this was your idea. For the sake of your people.

"Today is an important day in our history. Today, we welcome Curtis and his people as if they were our own. Today we celebrate the unification of our villages."

Curtis stopped before your father but didn't bow and for one dreaded moment you think there may be a massacre. However, he nods his head before turning those beautiful eyes onto you. As if on cue, you rise before him, smoothing the creases your white marital gown away and smiling shyly.

His eyes don't leave you as you step away from your place next to your father, clutching a thin circlet made of woven twigs with crocuses of white and purple slipped between them. You present it to Curtis who, without taking his eyes from you, takes the circlet in his large hands and places it delicately onto your head.

The room erupts into cheers and applause. Congratulations are thrown around and Curtis recieves many a slap on the back and handshake while you are fussed over by your friends and the ladies who you will now call your family.

"Curtis is a good man," one of them says.

"I'm so envious!" Another giggles.

The next few hours are a blur; drinking, dancing and feasting. The acceptance of your circlet was the acceptance of you as a bride, as a wife. Your life would change dramatically up north; longer winters in strange lands, new customs to learn, old customs to share.

His hands were warm and soft as they slipped a silver ring onto your hand and vowed to keep you safe and you'd smiled as you promised to care for him in return, slipping a matching silver ring onto his hand. The cheers and whoops from the crowd as he cupped your cheek with one of those warm hands to press a kiss against your lips rang in your ears. A morning proposal, an afternoon wedding and a celebration that lasted well into the night.

As you danced and sang around the fire with your friends for one final night, you can feel Curtis' eyes follow you and when you do catch him looking, you flash him a smile. Only for him to look away.

"Your new husband is handsome." One of your friends giggles. "And his eyes have been on you all evening."

"Here's to hoping you're not left disappointed tonight." Another slurs, raising her tankard, which you quickly steal from her and hush her.

"Not so loud!" You giggle before entertaining the thought. "He doesn't look like he'd disappoint."

"Hrm." The first friend says again before goving you a sly grin. "Don't bears mate for three months? And it's loud and savage?"

The group bursts into laughter when you hide your face in embarassment, quickly shushing each other as Curtis approaches. He's still stoic. You'd only caught a few wisps of a smile throughout the day but he looks almost uncomfortable as he stands before you and your friends. You take the hand he offers as you get to your feet and he nods at your friends.

"I'm sorry I have to steal her away." He says.

"We're surprised you didn't do it sooner." Your drunken friend teases and you smack at her playfully, guiding Curtis towards your hut.

"I'm sorry about them." You tell him, looping your arm through his. You can help the excitement your feeling, the tension, how he's been looking at you. Your insides curl with anxiety; tonight was the mark of a new beginning. Your people would be safe, your friends and family too, and you had a husband who was, at least the very least, attractive.

You chuckle as Curtis has to duck through the doorway as he enters your hut, his massive figure blocking the light of the moon as you try to light some candles.

The curtains that acted as your door billowed behind him as you dusted off your bed, a raised stone slab with a straw mattress and pillows with animal fur covers. You knelt awkwardly, peering up at him as he sat next to you, trying to look seductive. He jumps when you run your fingers across the width of his shoulders and you murmur a quiet apology as you move closer to his lips.

"You don't-" he breathes. "We don't have to. We're up early tomorrow."

You blink at him. Was this a test? A joke?

He was your husband! You knew what should be happening on your wedding night. In fact, you'd been looking forward to it since laying your eyes on Curtis this morning.

"I want to." You tell him but he clears his throat and stands suddenly.

"I'll help you pack."

"You'll what?"

Curtis heads to your clothes chest and opens it. "Help pack. You have space for winter clothing - that's good."

You're baffled. You don't know what to do other than awkwardly bring him trinkets and some of your crafts. He doesn't speak much other than complimenting your craftsmanship on your embroidery but even after you've finished packing, he's not interested in the consumation of your marriage.

"Husband?" Your voice wavers with nerves watching him stoke the fire in the centre of the room. "Are you alright?"

"'M Fine. You should get some rest." He doesn't look at you now and you sit on your bed confused and slightly affronted that he won't cast a glance your way.

"Okay... well, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The next morning, you're too embarassed to tell your friends the truth before you leave. You let them think that you've throughly enjoyed your wedding night, lest they worry like you are. You ride a horse alongside Curtis, wrapped in furs, waving goodbye to your old life as you set off with your new husband and new people, wondering if things will get better.

On your journey to your new home, Curtis and you shared a tent at night but he continued to refuse letting his, or your, hands wander. He'd keep you close for warmth, and you'd let yourself indulge in the smell of him. He smelled like conifers and ash; a sweet and deep musk that, once you collapsed into the furs of your new bed late afternoon four days after your wedding, you fell straight to sleep almost immediately after lying face first in the furs.

On your journey, and within your first few days, you'd befriended a woman named Tannya and her son as they seemed closest to your husband other than Edgar who was his second in command. You'd hoped they could offer some insight into your new husband, perhaps even explain his strange behaviour.

They spent more time with him than you did after all.

Since arriving back at his village, Curtis had practically ignored you. He would bring you food but not eat with you, sleep next to you only when he thought you were asleep... You couldn't help but get the feeling your husband was actively avoiding you.

"Curtis is... Curtis." Tannya shrugs over at you as she cuts open a rabbit carcass to remove the offal and internal meat. She'd instructed you to wash the skins but you were in awe of her resourcefulness.

As your husband was almost always busy with everything but you, Tannya had been a saving grace from keeping you from going insane. You had watched her set traps the eve before and had attempted to make one yourself; before it collapsed in on itself.

"That's helpful." You sigh. "What about his favourite food? Maybe I should try to make it for him."

"His favourite food?" Tannya pauses her cutting and grins over at you, and you give her a small, sheepish smile. She shakes her head and resumes cutting. "That would be sweet. No wonder he's smitten with you."

"He is?" You couldn't stop the question before it flew out of your mouth. Even in your first week in your new home, you know that Tannya isn't one to lie. So it was odd for her to say something so entirely contradictory.

"Pssht. It's written all over his face." Tannya waves her knife as she speaks, looking at you incredulously. "Always looking at you, worrying about the celebrations... You know he even asked for extra blankets in your hut just in case the cold was too much for you?"

You look at her for a moment and consider her words, chest warming to the notions of Curtis' alleged affections. He was never looking at you when you looked his way but then, you supposed, that was the point. Perhaps courting was different in the north? Perhaps your husband was shy?

"Extra blankets?" You can feel the ghost of a smile tug the corners of your lips, recalling your second morning in your new hut.

At night, Curtis still slept beside you and thankfully so because heat rolled from his body like an open bonfire. However in the morning, after leaving you to sleep to run errands, he'd caught you shivering as you entered the living area and had silently shrugged off his bearskin to wrap around your shoulders. You'd been surprised at the gesture but thanked him (earning you a grumbled response) before he'd disappeared again. You'd thought he'd been annoyed but now, knowing he'd fretted about more blankets for you, relief and hope surged in your veins. You may be able to win over your husband after all.

"He can take some getting used to. Don't worry you have the rest of your life to understand him." Tannya continues unperturbed, offering a motherly smile that comforts you from the inside out. "I'll show you how to make his favourite dish after we finish up and you can serve it for him tonight. In a few days when you're more settled I'll take your measurements for your second ceremony dress."

"Second ceremony?"

"You had a southern wedding now you'll have a northern." Tannya says plainly. "Not everyone was able to make it for your first one, myself and Timmy included. It'll be a rite of passage as our new chieftainess."

You nod vigorously, the weight of Tannya's words sinking in. Your rite of passage. It was more responsibility than you ever expected to have and yet you welcomed it with open arms.

The stew had been simple enough to make and you'd tried to inconspicuously smuggle it back to your hut to surprise Curtis, only to be stopped by about five villagers who all wanted to ask you the same questions on how you'd found your trip and how you were settling in.

By the time you'd managed to get back and set the food above the fire pit, you only had thirty minutes of pottering and preparing before Curtis appeared.

"Smells good," He murmurs, setting his axe down against the bedroom entryway as you dish up hot stew and place it on and already-set table.

"I was thinking we could..." you wring your hands bashfully. "Eat. Together."

Curtis raises an eyebrow but grunts with a nod, taking a seat opposite you, and tentatively poking at his stew with his spoon. He raises it slowly, almost as if he's waiting for it to stop steaming. You watch with baited breath as he takes a bite, the silence between you intense. He looks up at you to see you watching him and his ears go pink, his eyes drop to the stew again.

"How is it?" You ask, feeling silly for sounding so eager, so desperate to hear his praise.

"Good." He says around another mouthful but he says nothing more. After a few beats you sit back in your chair and poke at your stew before taking a few mouthfuls of your own.

"How were things today?" You ask casually. "Any progress on the second well?"

"Mm." Curtis nods again, not looking up. "Progress is going well."

"Oh, good."

Silence falls between you, the only sound in your home the clanking and scraping of spoons against bowls. You chew at your lip. This had been better than it had been and you didn't want to push your luck. However, after a few beats Curtis speaks up again.

"How are you settling in? How's my... how is the hut? I tried to make it ... nicer for you."

If you didn't know any better you'd say your grizzly of a husband was flustered. You look up over your spoonful of stew and can make out heated, red flesh peeking over his beard and your heart jumps for joy.

The hut itself was... basic. Threadbare of almost anything apart from furniture and the odd trinket but the last thing you want to do is be insulting.

"It's lovely." You half-lie.

Curtis allows a ghost of a smile to pass his lips before looking serious again. "Tannya tells me it needs a woman's touch."

You bite your lip trying to force your chuckle back down your throat. Was that an joke? From Curtis?

"I mean, well -" you're smiling into your stew, and when you glance up again you can see Curtis is smirking slightly.

His eyes lock with yours and you see him stiffen again. Your heart thuds anxiously as he breaks your gaze and move to get up, the warmth that had started building between you dissipated.

Curtis moves around to your side of the table and reaches for your bowl. He's still not looking at you but his intention to clear away doesn't go amiss.

"What are you doing?" You ask staring up at him, daring him to look at you for more than ten seconds. "Go sit down."

"Let me -" He purses his lips slightly and tries again. "You cooked. I should-"

You rise to your feet, moving your bowl out of his reach and fixing him with a smirk. Holding out your free hand parallel with his broad chest, you insist he hands over his bowl.

"Let your wife spoil you once and a while." You tease softly as he begrudgingly hands you his bowl. The redness on his cheeks returns and his chest heaves but he says nothing. "You can help with clean up next time."

Curtis looks at you skeptically. There's a moment where he brushes past and you think he might kiss you but he steps back as soon as the thought pops into your head.

You expected Curtis to grunt and venture forth into the village to do some more chieftain errands as usual, however, he surprises you by hovering silently beside you. He watches you clean the bowls and utensils, dry them with a cloth and put them away without saying a word.

"Thank you for the food." He grumbles quietly, looking at his feet. "It was...delicious. How did you know it was my favourite?"

"I asked Tannya." You grin over at him proudly. "She showed me how to make it so I can cook into for you more often."

He makes a grunt of approval and nods his head. "Thank you."

Your smile stays in place. "It's nothing. Are you coming to bed?"

You catch a glimmer of panic in Curtis' blue eyes before he shakes his head. "Erm, no - not... not yet."

"Then I'll see you in the morning. Wake me if you need anything." You say gently, weaving past him to prepare yourself for bed.

The following day goes by without so much as a breeze of cold air and you decide that you would brave the elements a little longer and go for a walk, familiarising yourself with the great unknowns of your new village.

You’d been introduced to most of the villagers so you knew roughly where each person lived and Tannya had shown you some of the best places to catch rabbits, however, you were yet to brave the forest.

The pine trees that resided on the outskirts your newfound home are tall and dense. Wildflowers sprout haphazardly like a border and, as you approach, you can hear the squeals of joy from the children. You realise that they must come out of the village to play; out of the way of the adults who are working and away from fretting mothers so that they may carry out their adorable schemes and fantasies.

Walking as quietly as you can through the trees, you try to spot the children and catch a gaggle of them running not more than twenty-feet in front of you. You dive behind a thick trunk and peek out trying to make sense of the game they're playing when your husband's hulking form comes into view.

You shrink back instinctively against the bark, hoping you aren't caught - but Curtis seems preoccupied with playing with the children. Curiosity keeps you from calling out to reveal yourself; watching the children ready themselves then darting in a myriad of directions with giggles of joy as Curtis gives chase, purposefully jogging after them to let them get a head start.

You continue to watch hoping to catch a glimpse of a true smile. You had yet to catch Curtis smile properly and you knew that seeing him play with the children would be your best chance.

When he managed to get a hold of one child, the others surrounded him, grabbing at his legs and jumping onto his back until he yielded with a laugh.

Enthralled, you began to smile at the scene before you; heart swelling at the thought of him playing like this with your children. You bit back a chuckle when you envisioned him hiding behind a tree, broad shoulders sticking out as clear as day from either side, making your children squeal with laughter.

Would he love them even if he didn't love you? Or would he have no interest and leave them in your stead only? From what you'd seen, you could only surmise that he would be an excellent father to your children, regardless of his feelings towards you.

That was, if he ever decided to have children with you. Being with child meant having sex and Curtis, even after warming up to speaking a few sentences to you the last two weeks, still didn't want to bed you.

You remained rooted to your hiding spot watching your husband and the children play; clinging to a daydream where you pretended to have something wonderful and romantic with the chieftain of the north.

You considered for a moment asking Curtis to take you to play with them sometime but thought better of it when you realised that he would siphon that task to Tannya or another villager, leaving you right back where you started.

Instead, you opt to keep your daydream of false domesticity to yourself, and watch the children tackle Curtis to the ground with cries of victory.

Tannya had told you that there was no point in cooking as that evening marked two whole weeks since your marriage to Curtis and the villagers had insisted on a dance and small celebration.

"Is this my second celebration?" You asked her in a hushed tone, helping to carry a dish of berries to one of the tables.

"Goodness no." Tannya clicks her tongue setting her bowl down. "You need a new dress and the decorations aren't even finished! We're all just impatient."

You chuckle and continue to run errands in preparation for the evening, desperate not to be useless and to prove to your village that you're happy to help.

By sunset, the clearing is alight with music, drinks and dancing. You skulk around the edges of conversation and sip at your tankard, keeping an eager eye out for Curtis. You almost don't hear someone calling for you over the chatter.

"Chieftainess!"

You look around wildly, before your eyes settle on an old man who is waving his walking stick at you. Approaching with a beaming grin, you take the seat next to Gilliam, one of the elders.

"Gilliam," you address him sweetly. "How are you finding tonight? Is your tankard full?"

Gilliam guffaws and bangs his stick on the ground. "Tonight is wonderful - and yes of course it is. The children are keeping me topped up."

There's a slight slur to his words and his devious smirk makes you giggle. You knew that he was a surrogate father to Curtis, a wise man who in his old age, had become a loyal advisor.

"How has your first two weeks been?" He asks curiously. "I trust Curtis is making you feel at home?"

"Of course." You lie through a smile. "When he's not so busy."

Gilliam grins wickedly. " Maybe if he stopped bragging to everyone how great you are, he'd be able to. 'My wife did this', 'my wife did that', 'my wife made my favourite'..."

You frown gently, your heart aching in your chest. Gilliam wouldn't lie for the sake of it, you were sure of it but this didn't sound at all like the Curtis you knew, the one you lived with.

Catching your confused expression, Gilliam frowns at you instead. "You don't believe me do you?"

It's not a loaded accusation; more curious.

"I... well, Gilliam, I do live with him." You chuckle but your smile doesn't reach your eyes and Gilliam notices. He nods slowly, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Ah, of course," he clears his throat. "Tell me what do you talk about when you're together?"

A flush snakes it's way to your cheeks. Do you tell him that you and Curtis still haven't consummated your marriage? That Curtis, even on a good day, barely speaks to you?

"Not much... if anything at all." You sigh softly, playing with your hands in your lap. "If we eat together, it's in silence. He usually continues running errands or waits until I go to bed to eat."

You wring your hands, unsure if you should continue. "I know it's because he's the chieftain. He has a lot of responsibility too. I don't want to sound selfish."

"Ah, I see." Gilliam hums thoughtfully.

"Did he have a wife before? Have I done something to offend him?" You blurt suddenly, looking to Gilliam desperate for answers to your husband's behaviour. No one ever warned you your husband wouldn't be interested in you.

Gilliam snorts and offers you his hand, which you take diligently, and he closes his other wrinkled palm over it. "Come closer."

You lean in close and feel like a child again, listening to one of your father's fables.

"Believe me or not," Gilliam scoffs. "That boy loves you."

You want to laugh at how Gilliam calls Curtis boy so easily, as if he isn't a mass of muscle and bone, but you only tilt your head slightly as if you can't quite understand him, tears prickling at the edges of your vision as you whisper back.

"My husband doesn't love me." As soon as you say it it's like all the air has gone from your lungs and more words begin to rush out. "I don't know what I've done to make him so indifferent towards me nor do I know how to fix it." You hiccup quietly, smearing tears angrily across your face with your free hand. "You say he says these things but he doesn't say them to me."

Gilliam looks at you pleadingly, squeezing your hand. "He does. And to answer your question from before, he's never had a wife before you. He's never courted anyone before you either."

That small piece of information pulls you from your tears and you sniff, brows furrowing at Gilliam. "Him? Never?"

Gilliam shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile. "Too many things to do as chieftain. To many battles. Too busy." He raises an eyebrow at you. "And suddenly he has secured peace with one village and acquired a bride."

You slump back into your chair, shocked.

"Hmph." Gilliam huffs smugly. "He's still acting like a fool, though. How can you not know how to treat a beautiful woman?" He shakes his head before nodding firmly at you. "When you get him behaved, bear-tamer; bring him to me so I can hit him with my stick."

Through your tears you snort a laugh and begins to giggle at the image. Gilliam pats your hand and chuckles with you before beginning to recount tales of Curtis as a young boy.

Gilliam is halfway through a tale of Curtis catching a ferocious boar, at which you're half in hysterics, when the man himself appears.

"Ah, Curtis." Gilliam says fondly. "I was just telling your wife about Hamhock the Terrible; you almost missed the best part."

Curtis' lips twitch. "You're trying to embarass me in front of my wife, old man?"

Gilliam chortles and stage-whispers over to you, "He's still very touchy about being dragged across the forest floor by that pig."

You try to hide your snort behind your hand but you can't quite manage it thanks to the alcohol.

"I suppose you've come to steal your wife for a dance?" Gilliam continues, raising a brow at Curtis.

"If that's alright?"

"Why are you asking me?" Gilliam huffs, shooting you a mischievous wink.

"I - erm - w-would you-" Curtis shuffles awkwardly as you rise to your feet.

"Of course." You tell him, sparing him the awkwardness, pressing a kiss to Gilliam's cheek before following Curtis. "Thank you for your company Gilliam."

"Anytime, chieftainess. Anytime." He wiggles his walking stick. "And remember what I said!"

Cheers erupt over the music as you and Curtis rejoin the throng of the party and you want to rejoice at the feeling of belonging surging in your veins. But before you can, the music starts up again and Curtis gives you no warning as he sweeps you - quite literally - off your feet.

In a surprise to absolutely no one, Curtis has two left feet. He spins you away and tugs you back towards him almost tripping over himself in the process. You start to giggle and as you're tugged square into his large chest and look up to see that Curtis is grinning down at you. A real, genuine smile that makes heat rush to your cheeks.

The music slows and Edgar's shout of "kiss! " creates an echo around the clearing where everyone is dancing. You can feel the eyes of the villagers on you as they chant and you smile nervously before glancing to Curtis, who furrows his brows slightly, then dips his head slightly before stopping, lips gently parted. You're just beginning to wonder what he's doing before he dips his head lower and brushes your lips with his. The kiss is just like it was on your first wedding night; tender and gentle. His beard is soft, wisps of hair tickle at your skin and you smile against his lips.

Joyous cries from the crowd thrum in your ears and when Curtis goes to pull back, you follow him, pressing yourself against him as your hands come up to cup his face. He, surprisingly, allows it and very quickly mimics your action; cupping your face and pulling you close before releasing you with gentle pants of breath.

Edgar smack Curtis' back and envelopes you in a tight hug, welcoming you and gushing about how excited he is for the second ceremony. Some of the women hurry to your side with Tannya, pulling you away from Curtis to ask you about your homeland, how you'd like your new dress to look, what flowers you'd like in your hair. You quickly realise that this celebration was a test to see if the villagers, and Curtis, approved of you; and you were thankful that they had.

With one longing glance back at your husband, you were ushered away, leaving Curtis to watch you smile and laugh from afar.

Hours later, you're cuddled up with Timmy next to a fire, exhausted from drink and dancing. Timmy's idly drawing a few sketches of the villagers as you tell him fables from your homeland albeit slightly slurred. The party had died down, with most villagers heading to their homes and packing away food to stop it spoiling.

Curtis appears in your peripheral and you turn to look up at him, Timmy following suit when he hears you utter your husband's name. Curtis eases into a squat beside you both, close to you for once, and asks what you're up to in a hushed tone that makes you want to melt into him.

"The chieftainess is telling me stories." Timmy says with quiet glee, cuddling into your shoulder. "She's a good story teller."

He yawns loudly and rubs at his eyes, causing you and Curtis to chuckle at the same time before sharing a shy glance at the other.

"I think someone needs his rest." You say softly and Timmy grins sheepishly up at you. "Come on, let's find your mama and get you to bed."

"Not one more?" Timmy pleads and Curtis answers for you.

"You can have more tomorrow I'm sure." Curtis glances at you again, this time with a small smile. "I'm sure the chieftainess wouldn't mind?"

Your stomach flips. Had dancing together changed his demeanour? Or the kiss? Or was it the alcohol? Either way, it was a welcomed change.

"Of course!" You say looking back to Timmy. "But I need you well rested to be able to pay attention. Got it?"

Timmy nods and rubs at his eyes as Curtis straightens and offers both of his large hands to you and Timmy, pulling you to your feet with ease.

After handing Timmy back to his mother, you and Curtis head back to your own hut. From the night's events and yesterday's stew, you hoped that maybe tonight you'd be able to finally consumate your marriage. That you'd curried enough favour with Curtis for him to begin to accept you willingly into his bed, rather than just a woman to share it with.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" You ask once inside. "Fetch any beer?"

Curtis shakes his head. "No. You may head to the bedroom if you so wish, you've had a busy day."

Your heart jumps. Was that an offer? You dip your head and enter the bedroom, stripping quickly out of your dresses to freshen up. Gentle dabs of rosewater against your skin. You wait and wait until your eyes grow heavy, naked under the blankets.

When Curtis finally appears in the doorway, you immediately perk up. He shrugs off his furs as he approaches the washing bowl, splashing water onto his face to clean away the day's grime and the night's joy. He hears you shift under the blanket and turns slightly to look at you, legs bare and hair slightly tousled from where you'd been restless with nerves, thin blanket covering your thighs and chest. He immediately turns back to the water bowl.

"Thought you'd be asleep."

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?"

Your stomach flips and heat rushes to your cheeks. Did you really have to spell it out for him?

"I thought... we would be..." You drop your gaze to his feet, clearing your throat in the hopes you would loosen the words free. "That perhaps I may... service you."

Curtis stiffens. You peek up through your lashes, hopeful, but he doesn't turn around. The muscles of his back are tight and there's an angry red flush creeping up the back of his neck. Your eyes roam his figure, unsure of where to begin; battle-scarred back, broad shoulders... your mind boggled at thoughts of other places you'd longed to see and kiss that you almost miss his growl.

"Service me?"

"Yes." You say, a little more confidently. Perhaps this was a game. You'd heard that some men liked it when women were confident in telling their husband what they wanted. "To get on my knees and-"

"No."

You blink in surprise. Surely, you misheard. His growl seemed like he was excited - you'd misread the situation entirely. Again. "Chieftain, wha-"

"I said no." Curtis snaps and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. With a sigh, Curtis turns on his heels to leave the room. "I'll let you get to sleep."

Tears prickle your vision and you don't quite stop the first sob that makes its way out of your mouth. Your stomach churns with the nauseating embarassment of being turned down, and your heart aches to be back in your village, in your own bed. You made a mistake. This was somehow worse than letting your village fall victim to his wrath.

You sob and sniff quietly as you find your nightdress and pull it on, crawling back into the warmth of the blankets and curling into a ball. You could understand if he wasn't in the mood, but this seemed more like he hated you. That he wasn't attracted to you. That you were ugly; especially when paired with the fact he wouldn't even cast a glance your way.

Your body shudders as tears stain your pillow. You're so small in the large bed, surrounded by the scent of your husband in a cruel taunt, huddled as far to the bed's edge as you possibly can be.

What had you done to make him hate you? You thought, you stupidly thought, that tonight would be different; after the dancing, the kiss, the tender moment when he'd come to get you and Timmy. Evidently, he remained steadfast in whatever ploy it was to torment you.

Wallowing in your heartache and embarassment, you made the quiet vow to not act like a wife again. If you were just there as a token of a truce, regardless of what Gilliam and Tannya said, then that's all you would be to Curtis.

Part 1 End

A/N: This took so long. It's the longest fic I've written in one go and I had to split it into two parts while editing and you'll be pleased to know I fell asleep editing this 🙂‍↕️. A labour of love indeed! Idk why Curtis' parts always end up in 2s...maybe he's my fave. Who knows.

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