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Not beta'd. Dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws | Banner by me, made in canva, images from canva and Pinterest (credit to the original creators). All of my work is 18+. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.
Tags/warnings: descriptions of violence, a mention of sexual threat, blood, injury, smidge of angst (but there's fluff)
Summary: The aftermath of the night before has to be discussed.
Word count: 4.1k
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day ❤️
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.
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.
Tags/warnings: meet cute-ish, pope being pope, drinking on the beach.
Summary: Sunsets on the beach are different when you have company.
Word count: 1.3k
A/N: i will admit, this one's rushed. So I apologise in advance!! And also that the word miscellaneous can go fuck itself x
A/N 2: ...yeah I thought this was like 500 words... can you tell I'm running on 4 hours sleep?
Navigation | Main Masterlist | Shawn Hatosy masterlist
You had always felt calm at the beach and Oceanside Strand was no different. Well, perhaps a little. Sometimes there were fights, sometimes stabbings, sometimes shoot outs.
But the most part it was a thin sliver of a seaside paradise that you aimed to keep as clean as you could.
Two hours before sunset, you would beach crawl; finding trash and other miscellaneous items before heading back to your car, grabbing a beer or soda, and watching the sunset.
It was a small thing. Something that made you - not happy, that wasn't the right word - content? Yeah. Content. Your own small way of giving back to the environment for such a gorgeous piece of sea.
You usually went about your beach days without hassle. Sometimes other beachgoers would bring trash to you, the kids joining in like it was a game. Your short shift became shorter on those days, leaving you to admire your work from the warm sand.
One evening a man you had never seen before, tall with square shoulders and brown hair that curled like waves against his head, approached you towards the end of your daily trash pick up.
"What are you doing?"
You look up, shoving a piece of sandy plastic into your trash bag. "Picking up trash. Why?"
He makes a sound - like an unhappy grunt. "With no gloves?"
"I have hand sanitiser in my purse." You say, slightly embarassed you'd not thought of wearing gloves. Most of the trash you pick up is covered in sand or seaweed.
"What if you find a needle or anything," he clears his throat, "-that has bodily fluids on it? Or any number of chemicals?"
"I-" you stand up straight, staring at him in disbelief. "Kids play here." You say dumbly. "I just wanted the beach clean."
He nods, then shifts on his feet. It's not really awkward - more like he's battling with what to do.
"Stay here." He says finally and disappears with a militant walk back to the promenade.
You stand, dumbfounded. You hadn't really been thinking of any of the potential dangers, you just wanted a clean beach. You look out to the horizon where the golden sun slowly drops to kiss the sea. It was wishful thinking trying to clean up the mess of larger beaches; the amount of work you had done was probably incomprable to the amounts of waste elsewhere in the world, and potentially elsewhere on the Strand. Sighing, you wait for the stranger to return and dip your feet into the cool water.
Twenty minutes later, the stranger has returned with a variety of trash bags, a pack of rubber gloves and a roll of kitchen paper. He tells you that recyclables go into blue, non-recyclables into black and any needles will be wrapped and placed into a thin yellow bag. The amount of thought he's already put into picking up trash went beyond your small idea of helping keep the beach clean.
"The tide comes in from over there." He says pointing to the far right of the Strand, where waves crashes angrily against rocks. "Always start there first when the tide is out."
He walks with you - incredibly meticulous and efficient in sorting any trash he finds, until the sun is disappearing and the beach is doused in a lilac-orange light.
"You do this everyday?" He asks, tying a full bag of trash.
"I try to." You reply, tying up your own bag. "I love coming to the beach. I hate to see it in such a mess."
"Me too." He takes your trash bag from you and hauls it over his shoulder, walking back up to where your car is parked.
"You know a lot about this beach." You say, trying to keep pace with him.
"Yeah, I grew up here." He says. "Surf here with my brothers sometimes."
"Oh, wow." You peel the gloves from your fingers with a snap. "So you're here a lot too?"
"Sometimes." He says and then adds, "You said you're here almost everyday?"
"Yeah. I-"
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
He walks away, dumping the trashbags in the closest giant trash trailer he can find, leaving you at your car, too stunned to speak.
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
Sure enough, the mystery man appears the next day. He's a boot sergeant and one hour in you have three trash bags and a sore back.
"You know," You say as you haul the lightest of the three bags to the trash trailer behind him. "You never gave me your name."
"Andrew." He grunts as he heaves the first trash bag over the edge. "But everyone calls me Pope."
You don't ask about the odd nickname and instead give your own, while struggling to lift your own bag of trash. Andrew - Pope - comes behind you and helps to push it over. He lingers for a moment, a gentle waft of cotton deodourant and sea salt gracing your senses before he steps away, grabs the final trash bag, at flings it over the mouth of the trailer.
"Thanks for doing all of this." You smile a little bashfully at him - trying not to seem like your heart is racing more than it should be.
He frowns, confused. "Nawh, you're the one whose been doing all that clean up on your own. I just-" He shifts again, not meeting your eyes. "-wanted to help."
"Well, if you hadn't rushed off yesterday, I'd have given you a beer for a job well done." You beam at him. "I like to watch the sunset with a soda after a haul - a good end to a good deed."
He nods, understanding, but still won't look at you. So, you test the waters.
"Wanna have a beer with me?"
His head snaps up, wide brown eyes meeting yours. For a moment, you think he'll shrug it off and refuse, but his head dips and he gives you the quietest yes you've ever heard.
Despite the quiet walk back to your car, and an awkward five minutes of drinking on the sand, conversation slowly begins it's natural course.
You ask about his brothers, a somewhat cagey subject by his reaction, and he asks about your family in return. Then you move on to the beach - how you wished you could surf. Pope offers to teach you, before you sheepishly admit that you can't swim.
"How can you live near a beach and not swim?" His tone sounds demanding but you somehow recognise he's only incredulous.
"I was never taught!" You protest with a laugh, taking another swig of beer. "And I feel silly trying to ask someone to teach me and my ripe old age."
"I have a pool." He says suddenly. "I could teach you."
You snort. "Really?"
"Yeah, really." He says seriously. "Then I'll teach you to swim in the sea."
"Then you'll teach me to surf." You add with a cheeky smile. For the first time in two days, Pope smiles back. It's small but incredibly cute; the way his cheeks dimple and his dark eyes glimmer slightly.
"Only if you're a strong swimmer." He says and then swigs from his bottle.
"Well, I really appreciate it Pope." You smile at him, changing the grip on your bottle with sweaty palms.
"It's okay." He nods, looking out to the setting sun. "Hey, um, do you maybe wanna grab dinner?"
"Now?" You exclaim, a little too excited.
"Um... sure, why not?" He shrugs, throwing up his hands. His smile is bigger now - and a little brighter. "You like burgers?"
"Who doesn't?" You take the hand he offers you, letting him pull you to your feet. "There's a restaurant just up the street that I've always wanted to try. Their burgers look amazing."
"Okay." He nods firmly, his palm warm over yours. He releases it quickly. "We'll go there. Harry's right?"
You nod back. "Yeah that's the one. You've been?"
You fall into place beside Pope, conversation coming naturally as you make your way to the aforementioned restaurant. Sunsets on the Strand suddenly became a lot more interesting with Pope around.
End
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
🐾tags/warnings: none for this part
Summary: After a visit from Officer Jones, you and Jake finally talk some more.
Word count: 2.5k-ish
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
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
🐾tags/warnings: none for this part
Summary: After a visit from Officer Jones, you and Jake finally talk some more.
Word count: 2.5k-ish
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
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
🐾tags/warnings: none for this part
Summary: After a visit from Officer Jones, you and Jake finally talk some more.
Word count: 2.5k-ish
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
Anyway, thank you everyone who partook in Friday and Saturday's Pick Your Fic polls - Sunday's is open here.
Tags/Warnings: slow burn, Arranged Marriage, angst and fluff!, this is a medieval/viking AU - look I didnt really do much past researching old huts and some traditions haha, arranged marriage, emotional intelligence of a brick!Curtis, self-deprecating talk, curtis being brooding, but that's also for plot, you’ll see, attempts at seduction, sexual content mention (but nothing happens in this part sorryyyy), reader is just a horn-dog xoxo
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk x
Summary: Being married off to the rivalling villages chieftain, securing a peace treaty for your people, you believe that all is well and good until you realise that he's not interested in you.
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.
Curtis seems to need a lot of practice expressing himself to his wife.
I sympathize with her because it would indeed feel confusing to not consummate a marriage; and also feel rejected when Curtis so intentionally leaves you alone or waits until you're asleep to come to bed. 🥺
Curtis Everett x f!reader (Arranged Marriage / Viking-ish AU)
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ so read at your own risk x
Tags/warnings: angst, fluff, Curtis being emotionally constipated again (whoo!), wholesome moments, suggestive language
Summary: After your rejection the night before, you set about distracting yourself and setting a new boundary you're seriously trying to uphold.
Word count: 4.6k
Divider @/lunaridae
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You don't remember when you fell asleep but when you blink awake, the morning sun is bright and birds chirp happily in the forest beyond the village; adding insult to injury from your rejection the night before.
Your eyes are puffy and crusted with salted dried tears, your nose is still mostly blocked and your poor body aches from being curled in on itself in for you to have some semblance of comfort as you cried to sleep.
You don't need to turn over to know that Curtis isn't next to you. Where there was once worry is now indifference; hollow, empty indifference.
A creeping feeling sets in your bones, begging you to stay in. To hide away from your new found family in shame. Curtis wouldn't care what you did either way, however, lying in bed wallowing wouldn't benefit you at all.
Rolling out of the empty bed, you climb to your feet and pour fresh water into the wash basin before splashing your face. The water is cold, soothing on your puffy eyelids and it helps to wake you up. You don't pay much heed to the dress you pick out, only that it's simple and after pulling on your shoes you step out into the morning light.
Doing a quick sweep to ensure Curtis isn't in your near vicinity, you walk to Tannya's hut. Perhaps sharing fables with Timmy as promised may lift your spirits.
Everyone is busy. There's hustle and bustle all around you but everyone stops to tell you good morning. You try to ask to help with whatever preparation they're doing but they all dismiss you with a smile, pointing in the direction of Tannya's hut. With a resigned sigh you make your way to Tannya's.
"Tannya?" You call out upon approach, spotting Timmy running by with a few of the other children. "Good morning Timmy."
You offer him a smile and he gives you a shy smile in return. You consider your spirits lifted immediately although the other children seem shy of your presence.
"Good morning chieftainess." He says with quiet excitement. "Have you come to tell me more stories?"
"If you'd like," You nod. "I'd have to ask your mother first and maybe ask the other children to join us."
Timmy nods and you catch the animated murmurs of the other children. Behind you, in Tannya's hut yu can hear muffled voices - Tannya's and Curtis' - and give the children an awkward smile. You can't make out what's being said but Tannya doesn't sound happy with Curtis about something.
Good. You think to yourself smugly. That makes two of us.
"Is my husband going to play with you today?" You ask nervously. If that was the case you may have to disappoint them - he wasn't the person you wanted to see at the moment.
"No." One of the children says with a sigh. "He said he was busy today."
You sigh with relief. "Oh, that's a shame."
Curtis appears suddenly from Tannya's and meets your gaze, grunting your name with a nod quick nod and disappearing into the village throng. Anger bubbles and you grind your teeth before you stop yourself - not today, you won't let him get to you today.
Tannya calls your name and waves you into her home, clearly disgruntled by whatever she had been discussing with your husband but you're smart enough to not ask about it.
"Morning," you say, standing awkwardly in her living room. It's a mimic of yours just slightly smaller and far more homely.
Tannya hums in response and picks up a garment covered in pins. It's a cotton blend of some kind and it matches your figure almost perfectly.
"Come into the bedroom and try this on." She says ushering you into her room. "I hope you don't mind that I took one of your old dresses for your measurements before we left your village."
"Oh." You blink, slightly impressed that Tannya was able to mimic your measurements in such a short time without needing you in person. "Wow."
She begins to help you untie your skirt layers and chuckles. "Don't say that just yet; it's only a basic pattern so I can make your second ceremony gown. Once we have these confirmed, I'll be able to make your gown to fit you perfectly."
Tannya sets to work, carefully cinching and pinning the garment once you're inside of it, making small talk over your preferred styles and colours, as well as a variety of domestic topics. When you mention you like a style that accentuates your figure but still has a little elegance to it, she holds up a hand and rushes out of the room, returning with more fabric to demonstrate how it falls and drapes and gathers; gaining more insight into what would make you the most beautiful blushing bride for the chieftain.
"I was speaking with the children earlier." You say nonchalantly, trying to talk about something other than your impending second ceremony. "I did promise them I'd tell them stories and go with them to play."
Whilst she attaches a makeshift flared train the your dress, she looks up at you with a smile.
"Soon you'll have little ones of your own to share stories with too," Tannya tells you excitedly and you force a smile. "Everyone is so excited to see what the chieftain's little ones will look like."
Your heart aches and you resist the urge to cry yet again, even though you're sure you have no tears left. The events from last night are still fresh and Curtis' rejection still stings.
"You mean cubs." You say quietly, and Tannya looks up confused for a second before you repeat yourself. "Bear cubs."
She dissolves into laughter and you join in despite the sadness you feel, wishing your husband actually liked you enough to touch you.
"Come, chieftainess." Tannya says getting to her feet. "Let's get you out of these rags and back into your clothes. We will watch the children play by the brook together."
You slip the shoulder of the makeshift dress down and then pause, fixing Tannya with a confused frown. "I need to prepare food before I go."
"For what? Dinner?" She raises an eyebrow at you and you realise she knows more about your predicament than you realised. "Let the boy starve."
The laugh that bubbles from your lips surprises the both of you and you cover your mouth with shy surprise before you meet her glimmering brown eyes and you both burst into laughter together.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Curtis spoke to me this morning and I didnt want to push you to tell me." Tannya sighs after a moment, grinning with a shake of her head. "I love that boy but he's a fool."
"Do you know you're the second person who has said that to me?" You confess, smiling despite your situation. You were glad to have befriended Tannya; you didn't feel entirely alone in your new home and now you knew you could be honest with her about what was happening in your marital home... or more accurately what wasn't happening.
Tannya snorts. "That doesn't surprise me. Don't get me wrong, Curtis is an amazing leader but he can be so dull when it comes to women."
"You're telling me." You chuckle and Tannya snorts again as she takes your dress from you and folds it neatly. For a moment, you can pretend there isn't any rejection from your husband and only mere stupidity.
"Besides," She adds, helping you back into your layered skirts. "Playing with the children will take your mind off of things. They're all excited to hear your stories and have you play their princess."
Your heart warms at the thought and a nervous flush graces your cheeks. Your mind flits back to Curtis and watching him play with the children and the warmth subsides. Is Tannya just saying this for your benefit? Or is it genuine? You weren't nearly as strong or as big as your husband so you couldn't possibly handle all of the tackling he did. What if the children decided they didn't even like your company?
When you focus your thoughts again, you notice Tannya is looking at you with a quirked brow and you smile sheepishly.
"You're overthinkng." She tells you plainly, gripping your shoulders and shaking you gently. "You need time out of that hut and away from your thoughts and Curtis needs to think about his actions."
You bite back a smile and tears well in your eyes. The way Tannya and Gwillam treat Curtis like a petulant child gives you a sick satisfaction that you wished you could impart on Curtis himself.
"Thank you, Tannya." You sniff. "I needed to hear that."
Tannya's arms wrap around you in a soft yet firm motherly hug that pushes you over the edge. She says nothing for a few minutes, letting you cry out your stress and sorrow while soothing you with quiet reassurances and soft strokes to your hair. Her kindness makes you miss your dearly departed mother, your friends and your home. It hadn't even been a month since you had traipsed across unknown land with your new husband that you had met on your wedding day; and to not even have bedded your husband or have any other ounce of affection from him other than one dance and a kiss (and a thank you if you were being pedantic) had eaten at your psyche like a cancer.
Your crying was cathartic and after a few minutes Tannya pulled back and helped wipe your tears with a kind smile.
"Come on, chieftainess." She urges gently. "Let's take a walk."
The day out with the children and Tannya was better than you could have imagined. You were pulled in every direction, every which way, by a gaggle of excitable little monsters.
Tag, hide and seek, and a game about warriors, Princesses and monsters were your highlights. You managed to get a few moments of respite with Tannya to chat about a variety of things that weren't your husband and Tannya had complimented your acting abilities while you played one of the princesses in need of rescue.
By the time you were headed back into the village, hand in hand with Timmy and another one of the children, your heart felt lighter and your resolve a little stronger.
Another excellent thing about getting out of the confines of the village for a few hours, other than avoiding Curtis, was finding flowers and herbs from your home village as well as some new additions. You made mental notes of where to find them and planned to visit the brook the following morning to collect some; you hadn't yet learned about your new village's medicinal customs but it wouldn't hurt to make sure you were well stocked and prepared. You already had some lefter over salves and ointments you'd packed for your journey, including a lotion your best friend had given to you as a wedding gift you had yet to use.
For dinner, you had opted to make a simple vegetable soup and some bread, and were jotting notes of your findings into a small leather bound book when Curtis stepped through the doorway.
You look up briefly, pausing your scrawling for a few seconds, before continuing again. With your spare hand, you dip a slice of thick bread into the soup and carefully avoid dribbling it down your chin.
"Husband." You acknowledge him with cool indifference around your bread.
"Wife." Curtis looks at his empty bowl by the stove, then to you, eating quietly alone at the table.
"Where...?" He clears his throat and tries again, slightly louder. "Where's my food?"
"You can make your own bowl." You deadpan.
Curtis looks back at the pot and you cautiously look over at him. He looks a little lost for words, and for what to do, and you hate that you feel guilty for it. Yet theres a small part of you tbat feels smug.
There's the clinking of the ladle against the iron pot as Curtis dishes up his own bowl and the moment he sits down, you rise to your feet, taking your bowl and notebook with you.
Curtis pauses his eating, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Where are you going?"
"To bed." You deadpan again. "Goodnight."
You leave Curtis sat at the table, slightly shocked at your sudden change in demeanour, and head into the bedroom to finish eating. You wished being petty made you feel better, however, you found it only made you feel worse.
Curtis doesn't come to the bedroom at all that evening but you can hear him pottering in the living area for an hour or two before it goes silent. You don't know if he's left the hut or not and you try not to care as you force yourself to sleep.
The following morning, while it is a marked improvement to the morning prior, you still aren't in high spirits.
You crawl out of bed and dress quickly, adding a dash of rose water to your skin when you wash to make yourself feel pretty, and make a move to head out into the forest beyond the village to collect flowers from the brook. However, you're halted when you slam into the firm chest of your husband whilst you're attempting to exit, and he's trying to enter, the bedroom.
You let out a squeak of surprise and an apology but when you glance up, Curtis' gaze is as intense as the beet red rounds of his cheeks. For a moment, you think he's angry with you and consider stepping away, however, you find yourself drawn to the intensity like a moth to a flame and you stand your ground, looking at him patiently.
Curtis' eyes begin to dart everywhere except you before they settle on the floor as he juts a hand forwards, holding a small bouquet of flowers. The flowers are white and bell-like with thick green stems and a sweet aroma that clings to the air; you recognise them instantly as your favorite flowers and your heart thuds harder.
"I-" Curtis clamps his mouth shut. "These are for you. As... an apology."
"Oh..." You can feel your cheeks begin to warm now too. You weren't expecting this and you are completely disarmed. "Thank you Curtis. They're-"
"Your favourite." Curtis shifts awkwardly. "I asked Tannya if she knew."
"Yes but-"
"I was being... I don't know what I was being." He begins gruffly and because it's the first time he's opening up properly, you're hesitant to stop him but continue to look at his hands with building anxiety. "But I wanted to make it up to you."
"Curtis-"
"I know it's not enough. For now. I - I - um..." He swallows and his cheeks burn red-hot, blue eyes looking steadfast at the flowers in his hands. At any other time your stomach would have done backflips of joy. "I want us to eat dinner together and-"
"CURTIS DROP THE FLOWERS!" You blurt finally, anxiety becoming too much.
Curtis looks taken aback at your sudden outburst before looking like a kicked puppy and dejectedly dropping the flowers from his hand with a sigh.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I thought that would wo-" Curtis pauses when you grab his hands hurriedly, twisting his palms upwards to inspect them. Sure enough, his hands are red raw and blisters are already forming.
"Oh, Curtis." You coo softly, running your thumb over the irritated skin with a featherlight touch. "Wait here."
You rush to a small trunk you set up by your side of the bed, undoing the leather belts and throwing it open. Rummaging between jars and herbs for a few seconds you finally find what you're looking for, holding it high to inspect your label with a satisfactory grin before hurrying back to Curtis, who looks dumbfounded by the ordeal.
You untie the cloth lid and scoop up cool salve onto your fingers, setting the jar down with your other hand before taking Curtis' upturned palms.
"This will sting." You warn him as you smear the salve onto his palms. Curtis stiffens and hisses as the salve creates a cool barrier over his blisters and when you peek up at him you notice that he's watching your hands tentatively work over his with that noticeable redness still glowing on the apples of his cheeks.
You fight off your own blush as your fingertips align with his before you drop your hands to wipe them unceremoniously into the skirt of your dress.
"They are my favourites," you begin shyly, the weight of his action and words finally catching up to you. "But they're poisonous. Causing blisters and skin irritation..."
You trail feeling breathless and can't seem to meet your husband's gaze. "I learned the hard way when I was a child and keep salve handy just in case someone makes the same mistake."
"Ah."
"Mm." You smile, toying with the white bell of one of the flowers on the floor with your foot, all your anger thawed. "Thank you, anyway."
Then, in an unspoken moment, you both glance up and catch eachother in your eyes. You nod and he nods back.
You both stand there, in your shared home, looking at one another's blushing faces and say nothing for a few moments more, air heavy with something that make your stomach swoop with butterflies.
"So," Curtis clears his throat. "As your flowers are one with our floor, how about we find some more? There's a river nearby that has a few."
You walked in tepid silence; not uncomfortable but not exactly pleasant, and you caught the narrow eyed look Tannya gave Curtis as you left the village and suppressed a smile.
The river wasn't far from the brook, and you could hear the pleasant whoosh of the water long before you approached. Curtis and you walked side by side, with only a small gap between you; often made wider when Curtis forgot to reign in his strides so that you could keep up.
Wildflowers had exploded along the patch of land by the river's edge, scattering brightly coloured petals to the wind like confetti. Other, smaller flowers sat closer to the shade of the tress; bluebells ringing with each breeze that passed them by. It was a beautiful scene to behold with the backdrop of a river, more forest and a mountain that reached the clouds perhaps hundreds of miles away.
"It's beautiful." You say, turning 360-degrees to take in everything you could. There's a mild chill, for a spring day and you shiver. Your new home is certainly colder than your village yet, it's awe-inspiring beauty makes it worth it.
Curtis nods, removing his bearskin cloak and draping it over your shoulders wordlessly. You're enveloped in warmth immediately, the cloak weighing down your shoulders, that delightful scent of inescapable conifer surrounding you. You glance up at Curtis as he fastens the cloak at your neck with forced concentration, your heart skipping.
"You looked cold." He mumbles, dropping his hands to his side.
He was so utterly confusing. Did your mother feeling like this with your father? Was this normal? You doubted it. You wished you could pry him open and peek inside to see what he was feeling, thinking, planning.
"Thank you." You murmur back before adding, "And I'm sorry for being petty about the dinner last night...It was unbecoming of me. Will you forgive me?"
Curtis seems uncomfortable now that you've apologised and shifts to look at his feet again. "Yes. Of course."
Silence again.
You clear your throat and nervously begin to babble to fill the silence. "I didn't tell you that yesterday Tannya took me out to the brook. I was forced to play princess."
You laugh awkwardly, looking out to the river and the forest beyond and wonder for a split second if you were to make a mad dash for freedom, would your husband even bother to follow you? You were supposed to be the bargaining chip for peace - but Curtis, despite his brutish reputation, had surprised you by being almost wholly uninterested in you. You'd wrongly assumed that he'd be all over you - You'd also wrongly hoped he would be too. Somehow, being in this state of limbo where you weren't sure of his intentions, was far worse.
When you look back to Curtis, he's mid-rise from being bent over, holding a small bunch of wildflowers in his hand. His cheeks grow red again when he catches you looking at him and looks to the flowers, then to you before handing them out for you to take. The poppies, agastache, buttercups and daisies make a a fire like bouquet that ignites something deep within your soul. Your heart swells ten times it's size and you're entirely overwhelmed with the realisation that your husband, the renowned warrior chieftain of the north, is shy.
"I saw." He says quietly. "You are, technically, a queen."
Your head reels and you opt to ignore the second half of his comment. "What do you mean you saw?"
Curtis rolls his shoulders with a frown. "I - erm - saw you leaving and trailed behind."
"Why?" You press firmly - he gave you and inch amd you would take a mile. You see it now - the reason why no one presses him is because of his looks; who would be fool enough to challenge a ferocious looking chieftain who is as tall as he is wide with muscle?
"Because I heard you crying." He says simply fixing you with a worried look. "And I wanted to make sure you were alright."
You blink at him. Then your lip twitches and you burst into laughter. Curtis looks so worried it makes you laugh harder.
"What's wrong? Why are you laughing?" He huffs, dark brows furrowed together.
"My husband eavesdropped on me because he couldn't ask me directly!" You giggle before fanning your face with a smile. Curtis' frown deepens, clearly angry with himself and you snort at him. "That's laughable, Curtis. The big and scary chieftain of the north is scared of his wife."
"Every man should be afraid of his wife." Curtis counters, the space between you both suddenly smaller. You sniff and wiped tears of joy from your face before sighing. "A man has to trust his wife not to kill him."
"Please don't tell me that's not what you're worried about." You begin, grinning ear to ear. No way could he be scared of you in that way.
"Perhaps," Curtis says but you catch a half smile. "After the way I've behaved, I don't think anyone would blame you."
"Mm. I dont doubt it." You agree playfully, head reeling from seeing your husband's face morph into a soft, almost happy visage.
The air is thick with tension, Curtis' eyes are on yours and even though you want to sink to your knees under his gaze, that beautiful, striking gaze; you stand tall. Challenging.
"So, what is your reason for not wanting to bed me?"
Curtis' smile vanishes as he sucks in a breath of surprise and ends up choking on his on spit. His cheeks begin to burn again and you giggle. You've now unlocked your new favourite past time; consequences come what may.
"Why do you want me to?" Curtis argues back, frowning again.
"Because you're my husband?" You blink at him confused.
"Hrm." Curtis grumbles, seemingly unconvinced.
"But," you say carefully, studying his body language for any signs of discomfort. "If you'd feel more comfortable waiting until our second ceremony, I'd be happy to wait."
Curtis considers your words for a moment and sighs. He looks to your face with a smile that knocks the wind from your lungs and you have to force your knees to keep from buckling. Curtis steps closer to you and cups your cheek gently, leaning close to bump his nose with yours, looking at you with soft blue eyes.
"I would like that." Curtis says, thumbing your cheek. "I'll need your patience, wife, but know that I will try to be a better husband to you from today. I'm not used to having such attention."
It's possibly the most open and romantic he's ever been since you married him, save for your dance, and you hiccup a breath. "Is that why you've been so... so-"
You fight for a word that isn't offensive and Curtis chuckles.
"Stupid? Idiotic?" He offers with a smile. "Trust me, anything you say will be kinder than what Tannya called me the other day."
You start to laugh, remembering the angry hushed murmurs you'd heard while talking to Timmy, making note to thank Tannya for speaking in your defense.
"You made an effort to learn about me and yet I've not done the same." He admits before looking at his hands, now less red because of the salve but still blistered. "Except for picking your favourite poisonous flowers."
"You've made up for it." You reassure him, brandishing your new bouquet with a laugh.
"Not quite." Curtis chuckles, pressing a quick peck to your lips. "But I want to."
"Well then," you say trying not to swoon. "Dinner together tonight and sleep in our bed tonight, Curtis. I promise..." you clear your throat awkwardly. "I promise to hold you close and nothing more. I just want you near me."
"Whatever you want, my wife." Curtis murmurs. "I'll keep you warm tonight."
Heat rushes to your cheeks and, even though you know nothing will happen, the mere thought of it drives you mad with desire. However, you now have something to look forward to on your second ceremony night.
After spending more time picking some flowers for the bouquet, that you now insist should be a centrepiece on your living area table, you and Curtis head back to the village hand in hand. Curtis asks you questions about every piece of foliage and flower he sees, committing the non-poisonous varieties to memory, and in turn you ask him about every track or trail and whether or not you should worry about wild pigs whisking you away (which earns you a chuckle).
Upon your return, you spot Gilliam who gives Curtis a nod of approval and you a wink before Tannya rushes over to you with a grin.
"I have materials for you to choose from for your gown," She says excitedly and looks between you and Curtis before settling on your bouquet. She gives Curtis a teasing smile. "So you finally gained some sense."
"In my defense," Curtis smiles back. "The flowers you told me to pick were poisonous. I had to get something better."
Tannya snorts and you fight a blush as you smile. Curtis holds out his free hand to you and nods.
"Go and pick your gown's fabric. I'll take these back."
You nod back and hand him your bouquet. "Alright. I'll see you later."
You go to follow after Tannya but Curtis doesn't release your hand, tugging you backwards gently so you turn back to him.
"Wait," he murmurs. "You forgot something."
"Wha-"
Curtis kisses you softly and you think your going to melt, cheeks burning when you hear a few cheers from the villagers and a snicker from Tannya. When he pulls back, your face is as red as his and you're both still smiling stupidly as you part ways until the evening.
Part 2 End
-> Part 3
A/N: how do we rank Curtis in this one? 🤭 I was originally looking to make this chapter more angsty but I'm soft. I couldn't do it.
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
🐾tags/warnings: none for this part
Summary: After a visit from Officer Jones, you and Jake finally talk some more.
Word count: 2.5k-ish
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
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.
Tags/warnings: mean ex girlfriend's, bit of bullying, but mostly fluff, mary to the rescue
Summary: Attending the local barbecue with Frank proves to be difficult for some townsfolk.
Word count: 1.5k
Navigation | Summer Lovin' Masterlist | Frank Adler Masterlist
When Frank had invited you to the annual summer barbecue with a nervous, but charming smile, you had been over the moon. You hoped that you looked calm and collected when you had smiled and said yes; in your mind, you were excitedly squealing and already thinking of fifteen different dishes to bring with you.
The excitement for the barbecue didn't dissipate until five hours after your arrival. You had tried to put on a brave face after seeing Frank's ex-girlfriend and her pals hanging around, reminding yourself you hadn't even been on three dates with Frank.
You knew Frank had many flings over the years of living in the small seaside town, as well as being the most eligible bachelor in a twenty mile radius. Single dad uncle, insanely smart, handsome and a handyman that was good with his hands in every sense of the phrase? Yep. Frank Adler was one hell of a catch. If you could catch him.
Unfortunately for you, Bonnie thought she'd be the one to do it.
What started as small, gossiping looks amongst friends turned more bitchy as the day drew on. After seeing Frank give you a small peck on the cheek in greeting, Bonnie telepathically declared war on you. She intentionally monopolised Frank's attention - not that you minded so much since you got to chat with people you hadn't seen since high school and you got to say hello to Roberta, Frank's neighbour.
When her friends insulted your dish within ear shot, sneering over at you, you ignored it; relishing the fact that Frank had taken probably the majority of it and was happily wolfing it down. That's all that mattered.
The straw that broke the camels back, however, was when you went to get some water and somehow Bonnie managed to trip and spill sangria over your white, albeit floral, summer dress. You may have thought it was a genuine accident, had it not been for her small smirk and the other transgressions over the last few hours.
Still; you smiled, accepted her faux apology with grace and walked inside, straight-backed to the bathroom. Once locked away, the tears brimmed as you looked at the state of your dress. You were sticky and wet with big, fat red stain trailing down your back. You sniffed. You thought the high school experience was over. Clearly not.
You wait for water from the faucet to turn warm, and cup a small amount to wipe the sticky sweetness of sangria from your skin; considering for a moment whether you should just abandon the barbecue altogether.
A soft knock at the door startles you from your thoughts.
"Hey." It's Frank. "You doing okay?"
You throat tightens but you muster up the energy to sound bright and peppy. You watch your reflection in the mirror wipe away stray tears as you speak. "Yeah! Bonnie bumped into me with some sangria and I don't want to attract any wasps."
There's silence on the other side of the door. Then, "Yeah, I saw."
You turn off the faucet. "My dress is pretty damp." And stained. "I think I may go home to change."
You don't like how your voice grows quieter, nor how Frank doesn't say anything for another long moment.
"Mary and I will give you a ride." He says finally.
"No, you don't-" You clear your throat. He was so sweet. "You don't need to do that. Let Mary stay and have fun."
"Um, about that," Frank chuckles. "Mary may or may not have also seen what happened.... and may or may not have had a few choice words."
"Oh." You bite back a smile.
"Yeah, oh." You can hear the smile in Frank's voice. "Now, open the door please."
You peek around the door to your man in plaid with a shy smile that meets his lazy one.
"Hey." He says.
"Hey." You say back before you both snort.
You step out of the bathroom, closer to Frank. He doesn't move away.
"I'm sorry. About today." His eyes don't leave your face. "I thought it would be a good, chill way for you and Mary to meet. Something low stakes." He sighs, brows furrowed. "I guess that was stupid of me."
"It was a good idea," you reassure him gently. "You can't control how others will act." You let the statement hang for a beat before continuing. "We could go to the park sometime, or the beach, instead?"
Frank's head shoots up and his blue eyes brighten. "That- Yeah. I'd like that. A lot." He breathes a sigh of relief this time. "I'm sorry about all this. On the bright side though, your food was amazing."
You wipe away tear streaks with a stuffy snort. "Yeah, I saw you inhaling it."
Frank smiles sheepishly at you. "Ah. Yeah, well it was delicious."
"Let me take you home and get you some dry clothes." He offers his hand out to you and you take it, before he jerks his head in the direction of the stairs. "Come on. I promised Mary I'd get her some ice cream on the way home."
You smile, following him down the stairs. "What did she even say?"
"Ehh, a lovely alliterating nickname for Bonnie." He says dismissively. "That may have included the word bitch."
You throw your free hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh, heart swelling as you imagine the little blonde loudly declaring the nickname in front of everyone. She definitely deserves whatever icecream she wants.
End
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
You can follow @grems-library for reblogs of my fics or join my taglist here
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.
Tags/warnings: mean ex girlfriend's, bit of bullying, but mostly fluff, mary to the rescue
Summary: Attending the local barbecue with Frank proves to be difficult for some townsfolk.
Word count: 1.5k
Navigation | Summer Lovin' Masterlist | Frank Adler Masterlist
When Frank had invited you to the annual summer barbecue with a nervous, but charming smile, you had been over the moon. You hoped that you looked calm and collected when you had smiled and said yes; in your mind, you were excitedly squealing and already thinking of fifteen different dishes to bring with you.
The excitement for the barbecue didn't dissipate until five hours after your arrival. You had tried to put on a brave face after seeing Frank's ex-girlfriend and her pals hanging around, reminding yourself you hadn't even been on three dates with Frank.
You knew Frank had many flings over the years of living in the small seaside town, as well as being the most eligible bachelor in a twenty mile radius. Single dad uncle, insanely smart, handsome and a handyman that was good with his hands in every sense of the phrase? Yep. Frank Adler was one hell of a catch. If you could catch him.
Unfortunately for you, Bonnie thought she'd be the one to do it.
What started as small, gossiping looks amongst friends turned more bitchy as the day drew on. After seeing Frank give you a small peck on the cheek in greeting, Bonnie telepathically declared war on you. She intentionally monopolised Frank's attention - not that you minded so much since you got to chat with people you hadn't seen since high school and you got to say hello to Roberta, Frank's neighbour.
When her friends insulted your dish within ear shot, sneering over at you, you ignored it; relishing the fact that Frank had taken probably the majority of it and was happily wolfing it down. That's all that mattered.
The straw that broke the camels back, however, was when you went to get some water and somehow Bonnie managed to trip and spill sangria over your white, albeit floral, summer dress. You may have thought it was a genuine accident, had it not been for her small smirk and the other transgressions over the last few hours.
Still; you smiled, accepted her faux apology with grace and walked inside, straight-backed to the bathroom. Once locked away, the tears brimmed as you looked at the state of your dress. You were sticky and wet with big, fat red stain trailing down your back. You sniffed. You thought the high school experience was over. Clearly not.
You wait for water from the faucet to turn warm, and cup a small amount to wipe the sticky sweetness of sangria from your skin; considering for a moment whether you should just abandon the barbecue altogether.
A soft knock at the door startles you from your thoughts.
"Hey." It's Frank. "You doing okay?"
You throat tightens but you muster up the energy to sound bright and peppy. You watch your reflection in the mirror wipe away stray tears as you speak. "Yeah! Bonnie bumped into me with some sangria and I don't want to attract any wasps."
There's silence on the other side of the door. Then, "Yeah, I saw."
You turn off the faucet. "My dress is pretty damp." And stained. "I think I may go home to change."
You don't like how your voice grows quieter, nor how Frank doesn't say anything for another long moment.
"Mary and I will give you a ride." He says finally.
"No, you don't-" You clear your throat. He was so sweet. "You don't need to do that. Let Mary stay and have fun."
"Um, about that," Frank chuckles. "Mary may or may not have also seen what happened.... and may or may not have had a few choice words."
"Oh." You bite back a smile.
"Yeah, oh." You can hear the smile in Frank's voice. "Now, open the door please."
You peek around the door to your man in plaid with a shy smile that meets his lazy one.
"Hey." He says.
"Hey." You say back before you both snort.
You step out of the bathroom, closer to Frank. He doesn't move away.
"I'm sorry. About today." His eyes don't leave your face. "I thought it would be a good, chill way for you and Mary to meet. Something low stakes." He sighs, brows furrowed. "I guess that was stupid of me."
"It was a good idea," you reassure him gently. "You can't control how others will act." You let the statement hang for a beat before continuing. "We could go to the park sometime, or the beach, instead?"
Frank's head shoots up and his blue eyes brighten. "That- Yeah. I'd like that. A lot." He breathes a sigh of relief this time. "I'm sorry about all this. On the bright side though, your food was amazing."
You wipe away tear streaks with a stuffy snort. "Yeah, I saw you inhaling it."
Frank smiles sheepishly at you. "Ah. Yeah, well it was delicious."
"Let me take you home and get you some dry clothes." He offers his hand out to you and you take it, before he jerks his head in the direction of the stairs. "Come on. I promised Mary I'd get her some ice cream on the way home."
You smile, following him down the stairs. "What did she even say?"
"Ehh, a lovely alliterating nickname for Bonnie." He says dismissively. "That may have included the word bitch."
You throw your free hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh, heart swelling as you imagine the little blonde loudly declaring the nickname in front of everyone. She definitely deserves whatever icecream she wants.
End
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
You can follow @grems-library for reblogs of my fics or join my taglist here
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, mentions of abuse/trauma
Summary: You and Jake enjoy eachother's company and get to know eachother properly.
Word Count: 1.7k
Being around you in his human form was far stranger than being around you in dog form. Jake had become so used to your affection and attention, that he'd almost forgotten how to act like a normal, functioning human.
He followed you from room to room chatting away, until he'd almost followed you into the bathroom, and he'd sheepishly taken himself back downstairs to wait for you on the sofa. You seemed just as happy as he was to actually be able to finally speak to someone because when you came back down the stairs, you teased him about the same amount of excitable as he was in dog-form.
Although, you didn't seem too put-out by this.
He couldn't believe that he was so lucky, neither could you, really; to have found a friend in such a difficult time was truly, by all means, a stroke of luck. He both loved and hated the fact you were so kind and understanding. Occaisionally, when you'd smile at him, flashes of your beaten face would cross his mind; and he'd have to suppress an audible growl at the thought of you showing that monster who harmed you any kindness at all.
When you'd suggested watching a movie he didn't know what to do. He suddenly felt like a teenager around his crush - albeit that you were a little fuzzy thanks to the lack of glasses. It felt strange not being cuddled close to you while watching the movie; without your hand raking along his head and hitting that sweet spot behind his ears.
But how do you even tell someone that?
About half-way through a very straight-backed watch, you clear your throat. All Jake can see from this distance is a pink smudge but he can sense your nerves from a mile away.
"You okay?"
"Mmhmm." You hum, strained before sighing. "This is going to sound so weird."
"Weirder than me being a shifter?" Jake jokes, hoping it eases your nerves and he's pleased to see that you smile.
"Hmm. Maybe." You say shyly. "Could I... run my fingers through you hair?" You rush out the words, unable to meet his eyes, but when you do, you bluster; and he's completely unaware that his jaw is hanging open. "Forget it!" You squeak and face the TV, wrapping your arms around your knees and angling ever so slightly away from him.
"I- N-no. It's fine! I swear! Um," Jake scratches his cheek. "You want me to shift back or-"
You shake your head. "No. Forget it. That was weird. I'm sorry." You hold your breath for a moment before releasing a quiet sigh. "It's just... before it made me feel calm."
Jake hums and quietly shuffles closer to you. "Try it."
"What?" You look like Bambi stuck in headlights, big round eyes watching him. "No, I-"
"If it helps," Jake says with a reassuring smile. "Then it helps. If it doesn't - we forget it ever happened."
You make an unsure sound in the back of your throat before looking away as you tentatively reach for him. How could anyone hurt you? He can smell how nervous you are to touch him but there's a small scent of something else... He wants to reassure you more, but that scent makes the words catch in his throat. It smells like lightning in an old bottle; begging to be released.
Excitement.
If he wasn't careful his tail may pop out- and that would be embarassing. Your excitement feeds his own and he struggles to keep his breathing steady as your hand glides through his hair. His eyes flutter and he forces a slow breath as your nails gently curl against his scalp. How the hell does this feel so good as a human too?
You repeat the motion; still soft, still caring. Jake leans into your touch subconsciously, relaxing quicker by the second as the scent of your nervousness dissipates to contentment.
"Is this okay?" You murmur. He can feel your eyes watching him for signs of discomfort. He knows you won't find any.
"Feels go-od." Jake affirms, voice cracking ever so slightly.
"You can tell me if it doesn't." Your voice is still quiet but you don't stop.
"I know." Jake reassures you but when you hit a particular spot, near the back of his ears, his shoulders drop and he loses composure. "But it- ooooh-"
He half-falls onto you; following your hand as you continue to scratch that perfect spot. You smell amazing too; fresh but with a hint of delicate spice that amplifies your warmth. You smell safe.
It isn't until you giggle, that Jake realises he's almost completely on top of you.
"Oh my God," Jake flushes, attempting to sit up off of you. "I'm so sorry. I-"
"It's okay." You laugh - soft and sweet. "I don't mind."
Jake tentatively leans back into you, and you gently start raking your fingers through his hair again; making sure to focus on the spot that made him melt.
At some point during the day, one movie became a movie marathon. A collection of feel-good, cartoony classics; ones you and Jake had seen before. Jake hopped up occaisonally, insistent on bringing you every snack and/or drink you idly thought of - your only reprieve of him happening when you had to go pee.
Every time you sat back down, as if it were natural, you'd open your arms to him and he'd happily re-take his place while you played with his hair. You'd grown mostly accustomed to him being around in human form and his dog-like tendencies were more cute than weird.
By nightfall, when you were thoroughly stuffed from a day of snacking, you had realised that - not only had you willingly cuddled a human male all day - but that you had never felt more relaxed.
You twirl a lock of Jake's hair as the next movie begins thoughtfully. Three months ago, on the worst night of your life, you had sworn off men for the foreseeable future. Though, Jake wasn't technically just a man. Or human.
It was strange to say the least. You had always been a firm believer that an animal's eyes never lie - and it seemed Jake was proof of that. You had never felt safer than you did in this moment; not even when you were surrounded by police officers. Perhaps it was fate, or karma, or sheer dumb luck that you found eachother. However, you couldn't help but feel sad knowing that your time together was most likely limited.
What would happen when your case was closed? If you got to court that is. That would be years. Jake had a family. Friends.
Part of the condition of your protection was your family didn't know where you were... and after being isolated for so long, you didn't think you had anyone left to call a friend.
"You okay?"
You look down at Jake, who's big blue eyes look worriedly up at you.
"Fine." You murmur. "Why?"
He smiles sheepishly, and taps his ears. "Shifter hearing, remember? I can hear your heart racing."
"Ah." You smile, knowing you're beat. "That got old quick."
Jake chuckles. "I know. Sorry. If you don't wanna tell me you don't have to. So long as you're good."
"I'm good." You affirm, and then add. "Better than good, actually. I feel... relaxed."
"Good." Jake grins. "I do too. It's nice being able to be, well, me."
"Yeah, that-" you blink at him, half-incredulous you're now realising you feel the same way. "That's how I feel too."
It feels like a physical crackle in the air. A subtle shift in tension as you both look at eachother, admitting easily how you truly feel. You don't know if for Jake it feels the same as it does for you - no weight of secrets, no worry of repurcussion. Just simple, honest truth that, in a way, is almost child-like.
Unfortunately, you shy away from it. Unready for complex feelings. The man was your dog. Literally. And there was no guarantee that he would be staying - so there would be no point in wondering about naieve what ifs. And also he was your dog.
You clear your throat, eager to change subject, well aware your heart was beating faster now. "D'you like having belly rubs?"
Your cheeks burn as you rush the question out, regretting it immediately. Jake's eyes grow wide and he blushes, stammering out an awkward half-curated response.
"I- um- no? I mean, yes but I've never - no one has-"
He swallows - opting to stop talking. Something you wished you had the braincells to do. You nod in faux understanding like he had given you a real answer.
"I just thought I'd ask since, you know-"
"I'm a dog?"
"Is that-" You grimace, hoping you pick the right word. "species-ist?"
A laugh bubbles from Jake and he shifts his long legs, adjusting himself in your lap. "No. I don't think so? I've never been asked before."
"It... may have been on my mind." You admit. Among other things.
"I'll answer as best I can." Jake says, rather energetically. "I don't know much outside my own experience though."
"I just thought since you liked head scratches in the same spot." You shrug, grazing the aforementioned spot again. "You might like other things you liked as a dog too."
Jake hums. Half thoughtful, half content. "If you mean stuff like sniffing butts- no, I do not."
You giggle at that. "I'm glad. But no tummy rubs?"
"No one's ever really given me any as a human." Jake admits cheeks beginning to glow again.
You want to offer them up but a wave of bashfulness and sudden need for propriety, stop you. But you file the information away for a later date. Probably.
"Hm." You say. "I'm surprised."
"Surprised?"
"A guy like you with no girlfriend? Or boyfriend," you add quickly.
"Nah, no girlfriends for me." Jake says. "Not for lack of trying."
"Really?" You can't keep the surprise out of your voice and immediately apologise.
"Really really." Jake says unperturbed, with a big smile. "Never knew who could accept all of this."
He gestures to himself, comically proud of his lean frame. "And the whole shifter thing."
Your knuckles rake against his scalp, and you stare at nothing in particular when you say your sage reply; "It's not the worst thing you could be."
END
For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here
You better believe Jake is gonna love belly rubs! Just like he melts when you scritch that spot, he's gonna be moaning and groaning at getting belly rubs! 🤭
And seriously, one of the things I love about Jake is how relaxed you can be around him. He's just so happy to be with you!
I absolutely love the different dog habits you've given him, too! Following her around everywhere is required of all puppies! 🤣
Jake having more dog-like traits just fits him so well - I cant wait to show everyone some of his other traits later in the story 🥰 guard dog Jakey, anyone?
Dog shifter!Jake Jensen x female reader (nicknamed Birdie)
<- Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 -> | Series Masterlist
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Headers and dividers made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators).
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, mentions of abuse/trauma
Summary: You and Jake enjoy eachother's company and get to know eachother properly.
Word Count: 1.7k
Being around you in his human form was far stranger than being around you in dog form. Jake had become so used to your affection and attention, that he'd almost forgotten how to act like a normal, functioning human.
He followed you from room to room chatting away, until he'd almost followed you into the bathroom, and he'd sheepishly taken himself back downstairs to wait for you on the sofa. You seemed just as happy as he was to actually be able to finally speak to someone because when you came back down the stairs, you teased him about the same amount of excitable as he was in dog-form.
Although, you didn't seem too put-out by this.
He couldn't believe that he was so lucky, neither could you, really; to have found a friend in such a difficult time was truly, by all means, a stroke of luck. He both loved and hated the fact you were so kind and understanding. Occaisionally, when you'd smile at him, flashes of your beaten face would cross his mind; and he'd have to suppress an audible growl at the thought of you showing that monster who harmed you any kindness at all.
When you'd suggested watching a movie he didn't know what to do. He suddenly felt like a teenager around his crush - albeit that you were a little fuzzy thanks to the lack of glasses. It felt strange not being cuddled close to you while watching the movie; without your hand raking along his head and hitting that sweet spot behind his ears.
But how do you even tell someone that?
About half-way through a very straight-backed watch, you clear your throat. All Jake can see from this distance is a pink smudge but he can sense your nerves from a mile away.
"You okay?"
"Mmhmm." You hum, strained before sighing. "This is going to sound so weird."
"Weirder than me being a shifter?" Jake jokes, hoping it eases your nerves and he's pleased to see that you smile.
"Hmm. Maybe." You say shyly. "Could I... run my fingers through you hair?" You rush out the words, unable to meet his eyes, but when you do, you bluster; and he's completely unaware that his jaw is hanging open. "Forget it!" You squeak and face the TV, wrapping your arms around your knees and angling ever so slightly away from him.
"I- N-no. It's fine! I swear! Um," Jake scratches his cheek. "You want me to shift back or-"
You shake your head. "No. Forget it. That was weird. I'm sorry." You hold your breath for a moment before releasing a quiet sigh. "It's just... before it made me feel calm."
Jake hums and quietly shuffles closer to you. "Try it."
"What?" You look like Bambi stuck in headlights, big round eyes watching him. "No, I-"
"If it helps," Jake says with a reassuring smile. "Then it helps. If it doesn't - we forget it ever happened."
You make an unsure sound in the back of your throat before looking away as you tentatively reach for him. How could anyone hurt you? He can smell how nervous you are to touch him but there's a small scent of something else... He wants to reassure you more, but that scent makes the words catch in his throat. It smells like lightning in an old bottle; begging to be released.
Excitement.
If he wasn't careful his tail may pop out- and that would be embarassing. Your excitement feeds his own and he struggles to keep his breathing steady as your hand glides through his hair. His eyes flutter and he forces a slow breath as your nails gently curl against his scalp. How the hell does this feel so good as a human too?
You repeat the motion; still soft, still caring. Jake leans into your touch subconsciously, relaxing quicker by the second as the scent of your nervousness dissipates to contentment.
"Is this okay?" You murmur. He can feel your eyes watching him for signs of discomfort. He knows you won't find any.
"Feels go-od." Jake affirms, voice cracking ever so slightly.
"You can tell me if it doesn't." Your voice is still quiet but you don't stop.
"I know." Jake reassures you but when you hit a particular spot, near the back of his ears, his shoulders drop and he loses composure. "But it- ooooh-"
He half-falls onto you; following your hand as you continue to scratch that perfect spot. You smell amazing too; fresh but with a hint of delicate spice that amplifies your warmth. You smell safe.
It isn't until you giggle, that Jake realises he's almost completely on top of you.
"Oh my God," Jake flushes, attempting to sit up off of you. "I'm so sorry. I-"
"It's okay." You laugh - soft and sweet. "I don't mind."
Jake tentatively leans back into you, and you gently start raking your fingers through his hair again; making sure to focus on the spot that made him melt.
At some point during the day, one movie became a movie marathon. A collection of feel-good, cartoony classics; ones you and Jake had seen before. Jake hopped up occaisonally, insistent on bringing you every snack and/or drink you idly thought of - your only reprieve of him happening when you had to go pee.
Every time you sat back down, as if it were natural, you'd open your arms to him and he'd happily re-take his place while you played with his hair. You'd grown mostly accustomed to him being around in human form and his dog-like tendencies were more cute than weird.
By nightfall, when you were thoroughly stuffed from a day of snacking, you had realised that - not only had you willingly cuddled a human male all day - but that you had never felt more relaxed.
You twirl a lock of Jake's hair as the next movie begins thoughtfully. Three months ago, on the worst night of your life, you had sworn off men for the foreseeable future. Though, Jake wasn't technically just a man. Or human.
It was strange to say the least. You had always been a firm believer that an animal's eyes never lie - and it seemed Jake was proof of that. You had never felt safer than you did in this moment; not even when you were surrounded by police officers. Perhaps it was fate, or karma, or sheer dumb luck that you found eachother. However, you couldn't help but feel sad knowing that your time together was most likely limited.
What would happen when your case was closed? If you got to court that is. That would be years. Jake had a family. Friends.
Part of the condition of your protection was your family didn't know where you were... and after being isolated for so long, you didn't think you had anyone left to call a friend.
"You okay?"
You look down at Jake, who's big blue eyes look worriedly up at you.
"Fine." You murmur. "Why?"
He smiles sheepishly, and taps his ears. "Shifter hearing, remember? I can hear your heart racing."
"Ah." You smile, knowing you're beat. "That got old quick."
Jake chuckles. "I know. Sorry. If you don't wanna tell me you don't have to. So long as you're good."
"I'm good." You affirm, and then add. "Better than good, actually. I feel... relaxed."
"Good." Jake grins. "I do too. It's nice being able to be, well, me."
"Yeah, that-" you blink at him, half-incredulous you're now realising you feel the same way. "That's how I feel too."
It feels like a physical crackle in the air. A subtle shift in tension as you both look at eachother, admitting easily how you truly feel. You don't know if for Jake it feels the same as it does for you - no weight of secrets, no worry of repurcussion. Just simple, honest truth that, in a way, is almost child-like.
Unfortunately, you shy away from it. Unready for complex feelings. The man was your dog. Literally. And there was no guarantee that he would be staying - so there would be no point in wondering about naieve what ifs. And also he was your dog.
You clear your throat, eager to change subject, well aware your heart was beating faster now. "D'you like having belly rubs?"
Your cheeks burn as you rush the question out, regretting it immediately. Jake's eyes grow wide and he blushes, stammering out an awkward half-curated response.
"I- um- no? I mean, yes but I've never - no one has-"
He swallows - opting to stop talking. Something you wished you had the braincells to do. You nod in faux understanding like he had given you a real answer.
"I just thought I'd ask since, you know-"
"I'm a dog?"
"Is that-" You grimace, hoping you pick the right word. "species-ist?"
A laugh bubbles from Jake and he shifts his long legs, adjusting himself in your lap. "No. I don't think so? I've never been asked before."
"It... may have been on my mind." You admit. Among other things.
"I'll answer as best I can." Jake says, rather energetically. "I don't know much outside my own experience though."
"I just thought since you liked head scratches in the same spot." You shrug, grazing the aforementioned spot again. "You might like other things you liked as a dog too."
Jake hums. Half thoughtful, half content. "If you mean stuff like sniffing butts- no, I do not."
You giggle at that. "I'm glad. But no tummy rubs?"
"No one's ever really given me any as a human." Jake admits cheeks beginning to glow again.
You want to offer them up but a wave of bashfulness and sudden need for propriety, stop you. But you file the information away for a later date. Probably.
"Hm." You say. "I'm surprised."
"Surprised?"
"A guy like you with no girlfriend? Or boyfriend," you add quickly.
"Nah, no girlfriends for me." Jake says. "Not for lack of trying."
"Really?" You can't keep the surprise out of your voice and immediately apologise.
"Really really." Jake says unperturbed, with a big smile. "Never knew who could accept all of this."
He gestures to himself, comically proud of his lean frame. "And the whole shifter thing."
Your knuckles rake against his scalp, and you stare at nothing in particular when you say your sage reply; "It's not the worst thing you could be."
END
For reblogs of my fics follow @grems-library or join my taglist here
That chapter was sweet. I really loved the domestic scenes between those two. They are getting close and it’s adorable. I liked that you talked about the way she was used to him as a dog and she was craving to give him some head scratches…
Jake was so sweet and awkward. He is all bushing. I love it !
<- Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 -> | Series Masterlist | Navigation
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+. Header made in Canva with pics from Pinterest (credit to OG creators). Dividers by @/lunaridae
Tags: domestic fluff, a little suggestive, but! We move 😌
Summary: You spend the day playing games and convincing Curtis to follow tradition.
Word count: 3.5k
A/N: This part isn't as long as I would like. I wanted the series to roughly be 6 parts but alas I am a glutton for punishment 🥲
There is no better feeling than waking to the conifer-ash scent of your husband, pinned to him by his own strong, tattooed arms. You trace the blue lines that knot intricately from his wrist upwards, disappearing under your cheek. Curtis stirs but doesn't wake and you smile as you softly tickle the crook of his elbow; causing him huff in his sleep.
You'd had the most restful sleep you have had since marrying Curtis - and you were surprised to find yourself up earlier than him. Clearly, the days of waking early to avoid you had taken their toll, and it hadn't taken long for Curtis to fall straight to sleep cuddled next to you.
When you begin to trace the tattoos again Curtis grumbles in annoyance, and shifts to press further into you, practically pinning you on your stomach. You bury your face into your pillow to conceal your soft whimper as Curtis' hard cock rubs against the thin material of your nightdress. The selfish part of you doesn't want to wake him; the closeness between you, something that you've waited patiently for, is now within your reach. The more reasonable part of you, however, values Curtis' wants more than yours; and you make attempts to wake him - though futile.
With Curtis no longer plagued by his own worries about your future, it seemed he was a ridiculously heavy sleeper. And what was, for a moment, a bit of selfish indulgence on your part, was now growing panic as you wriggled beneath him - unable to shake him from his slumber. Curtis groaned low in his throat as his hips rolled into yours and you yelped as your nightdress was tugged up centimetre by centimetre, with his cock slotted between your ass cheeks. It throbbed and wept, and you felt heat bloom both across your face and between your legs as you attempted to kick your husband's shins.
All of the progress you had made only for his subconscience to throw it out of the window. No doubt Curtis would avoid you for at least week when he woke up.
"Husband," you hiss, turning to face him, only to be buried in his beard. "Curtis!"
Curtis rolls his hips again and nuzzles into your shoulder with a murmur of gibberish. You think you hear the word 'wife' but you can't be certain. Does he know what he's doing?
"Curtis!" You make sure you're louder this time, throwing your gentle caution to the wind.
It seems to work. Icy blue eyes blink open, still groggy, and look at you. You can see the rapid range of emotions cross his face; happiness at waking next to you, mild confusion and then dawning horror at the realisation of what he had begun to do in his sleep.
His cheeks grow red and he sputters, pushing his arms up to release you from beneath him. But you don't move. Instead you start to laugh, making Curtis turn more red.
"You really did not tell him about our agreement." You giggle, pressing a kiss against the back of the hand closest to you. He relaxes slightly, but doesn't put his full weight on you again.
He clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I think after last night-"
You hold your hand up to him and cut him off. "Don't apologise. I was enjoying cuddling and admiring you whilst you were asleep. Perhaps I should have tried to wake you sooner."
"Admiring me?" Curtis smiles shyly. "How so?"
"You actually look peaceful when you sleep, chieftain." You joke, entwining your arm around his strong forearm and resting your head against it. "And I have never seen your tattoos before."
"You haven't?"
You fix him with a look that undoubtedly says "are you being serious ?" and Curtis smiles sheepishly.
"Of course you haven't." He corrects. "My apologies."
You huff playfully and kiss his arm. "It's no matter. I can think about admiring them on our second wedding night." The insinuation isn't lost on him as he sputters to try and think of a response, but you are too quick for him. "How are your hands feeling today? Better?"
"Yes."
"You haven't even looked at them!"
"No, but I cannot have you touching me again or else I may forgo our agreement." Curtis grits out, and with a quick peck, he jumps out of bed insistent on starting breakfast.
You blow on your spoon watching Curtis carefully as he shovels his porridge in an attempt to not have to speak further on what had transpired earlier in the morning. Although, you were having fun still teasing him for it.
"Curtis, you'll make yourself sick if you keep eating like that." It slows him for a moment until you continue. "Save it for our wedding night."
He grips his spoon so hard you could've sworn it bends in his hand. You smirk as you take a bite of your own porridge and fix him with a sly look.
"Dear husband, you're too easy to tease." You tell him. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not." Curtis mutters, stirring the remainder of porridge in his bowl. "You're enjoying this far too much."
You grin. "I am."
Curtis shakes his head with a small chuckle and you're about to ask about what his plans are for the day when the most surprising thing happens; Curtis hiccups.
His gigantic frame jolts in its seat across from you and the teeniest, tiniest hic sound emits from your husband. Your wide-as-he-is-tall, bearded, tattooed, husband hiccups like a toddler.
You bite your lips, desperately. This was the best day you have had in a long while. Curtis' eyes meet yours across the table.
"Don- hic," his body jolts again, and afterwards, he hide his face his hands as you laugh at him.
As soon as you think you have your laughter under control, he hiccups again, making you lose composure. You're wiping away tears of laughter after a few minutes - his hiccupping mildly under control - when he finally manages to speak again.
"You have definitely been sent to test me."
After bidding Curtis goodbye with a kiss on his burning cheek, you headed to Tannya's. The next step for your wedding was the planning. After your next dress fitting with Tannya, she gathered every woman and child she could and ordered them to go to river nearby. You shrugged when Curtis looked over quizzically, and shook his head with a smile before going back to speaking with Edgar.
One of the younger men tried to trail behind the group but Tannya's eagle eyes spotted him within mere minutes, and gave him a hushed talking to. You couldn't make out what was said but he did not look nearly as sullen as Curtis had when Tannya had given him an earful. Though you couldn't prove it, you could have sworn that Tannya was planning something. However, you were too distracted by excitable children to pay it much mind.
"So, chieftainess," Another woman, Sonia, begins. "What plans do you have for the wedding?"
"Plans?" You echo.
"Yes!" Brienna, a fiery-haired young woman exclaimed. "What flowers will you have? What food would you like?"
"Erm," you swallow awkwardly. You hadn't given your plans any thought. You had, naievely, assumed that you wouldn't have any say in the preparation beyond showing up; much like your last wedding.
"Ladies!" Tannya's voice booms, as she flaps her hands. "Let her be. Curtis hasn't decided if he's going on his stag yet - so we need to have a plan first."
"Stag?" You question, and all of the women look at you like youve grown a second head.
"Do you not know what a stag is?" Brienna asks, face serious. Her question earns her a rap around the head from her mother, Sara.
"Of course she doesn't," Sara huffs. "She's from another tribe, you fool."
"A stag is where the chieftain and a few of his closest men venture out into the wilds for a few days." Tannya explains helpfully. "To drink, share stories, and hunt for the main meat of the feast." Then she shrugs. "Curtis is too anxious to be away for so long."
Another woman sighs wistfully. "You're such a lucky woman. To have a fiancé too anxious to leave you."
"Husband." Brienna corrects haughtily, forcing you to conceal a snort. "And I think Curtis is too anxious to leave in case something happens to us."
"Curtis does care for you all so much," you add diplomatically and Tannya chortles.
"But you know as well as I do that he needs to learn to relax." Tannya smiles as the children run Brienna down and are subsequentally chased away. "But enough about him. What flowers do you want in your flower crown?"
"Erm," you shrug your shoulders haplessly as one of the children has a small coughing fit. His mother rushes over and rubs his back, you turn to Tannya. "What flowers are in season here?"
Tannya shrugs. "I only know of the wildflowers, but their stems are both easy and tricky to weave because of how thin they are."
You nod contemplatively. "Wildflowers are in abundance too."
"You'll be followed by bees all day." Brienna points out impatiently, and her mother hushes her as another child sniffles and races after their friends. "I will not sit in the front if there are bees surrounding you."
"Brienna-" Her mother attempts to scold her but is silence when you laugh.
"I can't imagine my husband would take to kindly to ward off bees when he has to kiss me." You tell them, which earns snorts all-round. "I'll have to think carefully about what I what prefer more."
The rest of the day goes quickly; wedding planning and chasing children really takes it out of you. Your mind is made up, however, on convincing Curtis to take the few days away to relax. During a moment of blessed quiet from the other women and children, you gather a mixture of herbs and wildflowers by the river.
There's more green in your bunch than you would have liked and a strong smell of onion that, you agree with yourself, is a far worse option than bees swarming you on your wedding day. However, the herbs would make for a good medicine. One that would hopefully stop the sniffling and coughing of the children.
As you kneel to pick a sun-yellow iris poking between a thicket of reeds, careful to avoid the muddy riverbank sand on your dress, you notice a strange marking in the sand. It's a paw of some sort. And big. It spans almost twice the width of your hand, with five dots above the paw pad - claws.
You frown at the mark. There is only one other, half melted away into the river sand. You wrack your brain. You've not seen a track like this before; not in a book or near your old village. But it sends a chill down your back, settling an a cold, uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"Chieftainess!" Timmy barrels into you, hugging you tight. "I found you! Where did you go?"
With your concentration broken, you turn to smile at Timmy. "I was collecting herbs for-"
He interupts you to cough harshly.
"-that." You stand up and take his hand. "Come on, let's go back to everyone. I'm sure it's almost time for supper."
Curtis has a light supper waiting for you when you return. It's bread, butter, cheese and mead by candlelight; nothing fanciful yet it makes your heart soar. Curtis had waited until you were home so that he could eat with you - another thing that squeezed your heart despite you chastising him gently for it - and you happily sat across from him tearing into your bread.
Curtis' day had been filled with stock taking and preparation. Boring yet essential. Everything was on task and would continue to be for a while, according to everyone else. Curtis, however, was worried. You had asked him the cause of his worry, yet he couldn't seem to pinpoint it.
"I cannot explain it," he tells you as he butters a small piece of bread. "Something does not feel right."
"I suppose no would be a bad time to mention your stag." You say over your tankard. When he looks at you quizically, you clarify. "Before our wedding."
"Oh." He blinks. "Oh."
"I think you should go," you add calmly, setting your tankard down and picking at some bread. "I think you beget your own worry and a short break might do you some good. Besides," you smirk over at him. "It may be only time for a long while where you may actually have some respite."
"Respite?" Curtis' brows furrow fir a second before his eyes meet yours and he sees the glimmer of mischief he has grown so fond of.
"Oh, hush." He huffs, cheeks glowing.
"I didn't even suggest anything!" You protest despite grinning ear to ear.
Curtis mutters to himself as he shrinks into his chair. "But you're probably right."
"I know that I am." You say firmly. "And I know that with the people's help, I'll be just fine."
Curtis hums, still unsure.
"And," you hastily add. "I will be able to make the final preparations for my dress away from prying eyes."
This seems to convince your husband, albeit reluctantly, to venture forth to the wilderness for three days. "Very well. I know Tannya and Gwilliam would give me an earful if I did not go."
"Then it's settled." You bite into a sliver of cheese. "Tell me what you need for your journey and I will help you get ready."
By the time you are getting ready for bed, Curtis' small bag is packed and a gathering of some twenty men have been gathered. You heard the excited shouts of Edgar and some of the younger men when Curtis announced he'd be following the tradition of every engaged man by going on the three day hunting celebration. Surprised by how quickly the men had prepared to go, you could only assume that someone else was planning on convincing Curtis to follow the tradition had it not been you. Curtis seemed to think the same, and he told you as much once he returned, along with the unfortunate news that they wanted to leave immediately the following morning.
"They don't want to dally." You told him, splashing your face with water. "I cannot say I don't blame them."
"Is that a joke, wife?" Curtis asks, shocking his outer clothes. "Or do you wish me gone that badly?"
Since you aren't looking at him, for a terrifying moment you thought he was serious. However, upon facing him, you're relieved to see a small smile almost hidden by the shadows of night.
"I want you to return quickly," you say, moving towards your shared bed. "The sooner you are back, the sooner my bed is warm again."
Curtis chuckles. "Ah. I am merely a means of warmth then? I should have known."
You curl up against your side of the bed, waiting for Curtis to join you under the furs. "Of course." You reply. "Now, quick. It's cold."
Curtid huffs in such a way that you know means he's smiling and sure enough, moments later, the bed dips.
"Face me." Curtis says quietly, not cuddling into you as usual. You sit up and turn towards him and he streches his right arm out, half under your pillow, so that you may rest your head upon it. "I want your face to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep if I'm leaving at first light."
"What about your no-touch rule?"
"Shut up and come here."
Your cheeks grow warm as you nestle down beside him - his bicep far comfier than any pillow you have slept on. His conifer scent envelops you, his calloused but gentle fingers tracing your face as he looks at you with an intense gaze that would be the envy of a thousand suns.
You want to ask him if he's still worried about leaving - if there's something else on his mind. You want to tell him you love him - but settle for a meager, "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too Kærasta." His voice is quiet and as warm as he is; and it makes your eyes grow heavy far too quickly for your liking.
"Come back to me." You whisper. "I still want to marry you."
Curtis' chest rumbles with a laugh and a kiss is placed delicately onto your forehead. "I promise, Kærasta."
Your hum sounds closer to a purr this time as you drift away to sleep. "Good, I will hold you to it."
Part of your brain fight sleep, eager to speak more of what had passed during the day; the flowers, the games and the pawprint. But all is forgotten as you fall asleep in your husband's arms.
Part 4 End
A/N: Kærasta = darling (in Icelandic)
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Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine. all my work is 18+.
Tags: suggestive but fluffy, pet names (honey, babe)
Summary: You find a way to get Jake to wear sunscreen.
Word count: 409
Navigation
A/N: it's too hot here. Wear sunscreen peeps.
"AAAH!"
"HOLD STILL!"
"It's cold!"
"It's for your own protection!" You puff out your cheeks at Jake, like a small angry chipmunk. "I'll even warm it up in my hands for you first if you're going to be such a baby about it."
Jake pouts and makes a noise in the back of his throat, unsure of how truthful you're being. You huff and rub the cream on your palms before showing them to him in a means of truce.
"Come on, honey." You plead, already seeing the red marks under his eyes where the glass of his glasses has amplified the power of the sun on his skin. "Whose gonna be there to protect me from all the water balloons if you're catatonic with sunstroke?"
This, it seems, makes Jake concede. He can't leave you to fend for yourself against his friends and family.
He gives you a resigned sigh. "Alright. Fine."
You try not to smile, cupping his face and running your thumbs along his burned cheeks. Trails of sunscreen are left in your wake, until you gently rub it in. It quickly becomes a make shift massage. Your hands trail from his face to his neck, then his shoulders; where a short squeeze of the shoulder muscles makes your boyfriend suppress a sound you know to well.
"Oh," you tease softly, pumping more suncream into your palm. "Bet you're wishing you hand this sooner, huh?"
"Shut up." Jake mumbles, half-heartedly annoyed. He jumps with a squeal when you press, cold creamy hands onto his bare back.
"What was that, babe?" You taunt, furiously rubbing the cream in as he tries to flail miserably away from you.
"Ahh no!" He wriggles beneath you, laughing. "No fair! No fair!"
He flops, then flips, so that you are beneath him instead. He tries to catch his breath but you steal it when you run your hands down his bare torso with a wicked grin.
"There." You say, booping a small blob of cream onto his nose. "Now it's just your legs."
"My-" Jake shivers and shakes his head with a broad grin. "Yes. My legs."
You snort. "Then we will be outside."
"Yes. Outside." Jake nods, moving off of you. "Of course."
"Jake," you narrow your eyes playfully. "Then outside."
"Yeah, yeah. Then outside, I heard you."
Suffice to say, by the time you got outside it was already much, much cooler. And Jake needed another dousing of sunscreen.
End
☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️
Make sure y'all wear hats and sunscreen - and DRINK SOME WATER 😡
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