Chapter Text
*BEEP*
*BEEP*
*BEEP*
The sheriff groaned as his alarm blared, the shrill beep cutting through the predawn darkness like a knife. He slapped at the offending device, missing twice before finally silencing it. With a grunt, he hauled himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
‘Goddamn winter.’ He thought to himself. Eyelids still heavy from rest as he got up and off his bed. His feet connected with the cold hard floor. Then, slowly he walked, or shuffled to be exact.
The floorboards creaked under his weight as he shuffled to the window, yanking the curtains aside. Snow had fallen overnight once again, which just covered the town in another layer of thick, undisturbed white powder. He sighed, watching his breath fog the glass which were his windows.
“Just another day in this frozen hell.”
He turned away from the window, soon methodically dressing in his usual attire. Which consisted of a thermal undershirt, his standard issued wool-lined uniform, and a heavy coat from his wife.
His badge caught the dim light as he pinned it to his chest, the metal was cold against his fingers. Which wasn't new.
Then the holster came next, he adjusted it onto his hip for easier access. It was also standard procedure. Though, his revolver wasn't placed in it.
He opened his coat, sliding it inside his inner pocket. A trick he's learned over the years.
‘Element of surprise.’
-
Downstairs, the coffee machine sputtered its last drops into the pot. Thank Christ he managed to win this old thing from the station party a while ago.
It saved him from the headache of having to brew his own cup of Joe on a cold morning.
He poured himself a mug, black as sin and strong enough to wake the dead, and he took a long scalding sip.
“Better.”
Keys in hand, he stepped out into the biting cold, his boots sinking into fresh powder. The morning air was sharp, clean, carrying the faint scent of pine and woodsmoke from nearby chimneys. His truck sat in the driveway, already dusted with snow.
He scowled, feeling irritated.
"Should’ve parked in the damn garage.” He muttered, brushing off the windshield with his sleeve before climbing inside.
The engine coughed to life, the heater groaning in protest as it fought against the chill. He cranked the dial to full blast, waiting for the cab to warm up before pulling out onto the empty street.
-
The town was quiet this early, the only movement the occasional flicker of porch lights as other early risers began their days. He drove slowly, the tires crunching over packed snow, his mind already ticking through the day’s tasks.
Then the radio crossed his mind. He overlooked the one thing that could help start his day.
He reached over, twisting the knob. Static fizzed for a moment before the smooth voice of a news anchor cut through.
“–breaking update on the international case regarding the Worker known as 'Doll.' After years of evasion, the elusive fugitive has surrendered herself to U.S. authorities. Sources confirm she will be transferred to a high-security facility, though her motives remain unclear. Some speculate this may be tied to the recent dismantling of the–”
The sheriff reached over and flicked the radio off with a grunt. “Damn vultures..” He muttered, rolling his window down just enough to let the crisp winter air bite at his face.
He needed to stay awake.
The last thing he wanted was to skid off the road and end up buried in a snowdrift because some corporate-sponsored news anchor couldn’t shut up about things that didn’t concern them.
‘Sides, it's too early to have to deal with reality.
-
A few minutes of driving and sipping on some nice hot coffee had passed by, and the sheriff was actually beginning to warm up. Though, a bit cold if he shifted his body. Still, warming up somehow.
Eventually, the trees began to thin as the cabin came into view. It was a sturdy, smoke-wisped structure nestled against the pines, its windows glowing warm against the twilight. A cozy little place to call home, and in truth, it was quite,
“Perfect.”
The sheriff turned the steering wheel, letting off the gas pedal as he slowly came to a stop. After a minute, the sheriff shifted the gear into park and turned the key which then killed the engine in response.
He remained seated. Just sitting there before he let out a long sigh. “Jesus.. I don't get paid enough to do this.” He grumbled as he rubbed his temple.
“Damn mailman duty,” He murmured, reaching for the glove box. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for.
A single envelope.
He flipped it over. No address. No stamp. Nothing, but just N's name scrawled in that too-perfect cursive that he would suspect Doll always used.
It was like she was writing some Victorian love poem instead of a suicide note.
Or whatever it was that she wrote–He didn't bother to check as he assumed she was one of N's past lovers. Which... he wouldn't think was too far off.
N was definitely a looker, even for human standards. He could only imagine how his youth was before he came here all bitter and drinking his sorrows away, regardless that wasn't none of his concern or business.
He just held the envelope, staring at the fancy writing and a lone crest on it that resembled an odd triangle.
“Should’ve just let the feds handle this mess.”
Ignoring the fact that he was technically a fed—He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before exhaling. He just needed to head toward N's place and hopefully not slip on ice!
And uh... head toward's what was sure to be an awkward as hell conversation.
-
Snow crunched under his boots as he trudged toward the porch, his breath fogging in the air.
It's been a while since he's made a visit here. Last he could recall was having to make sure Lizzy got him home whenever he'd cause trouble at the bar.
But, he also didn't complain since N kept him busy with paperwork. Preventing him from having to deal with the usual call about livestock gone missing. Or the occasional tourist going missing, or even a big game hunter babbling about something hunting them for game.
He smirked, “Good times.” definitely V terrorizing them. But it's in the past and out of his control.
The sheriff took a moment to glance around the surrounding area, as if reminiscing about this place.
He took in the tracks in the snow, some fresh, some half-buried under the latest fall.
Yet, he also noticed some strange things.. buried in the snow and around the treelines.
Was it metal?
Burn marks?
Bullet holes and casings?
He wasn't too certain what happened but he knew it didn't involve him. And if it did... well.. that's just out of his pay role!
He shook his head before stepping up to the door. He patted his coat pockets, fishing for the letter again like it might’ve vanished in the three seconds since he’d grabbed it. Finally, he pulled it free, knocked twice, and waited.
And waited.
Two minutes passed. The sheriff shifted his weight, debating whether to knock again or just leave the damn thing wedged in the doorframe.
"Ah, maybe I should leave it-"
*Creaaaak...*
Slowly, heavy footsteps could be heard.
Slow, yet deliberate.
The sheriff straightened himself. As he assumed it was N lumbering toward the door like the oversized golden retriever he was. Though quite old and intimidating.
The door swung open.
And there stood N! ...half-naked, disheveled, and very much not fully awake.
His pants hung low on his hips, belt unbuckled, and his shirt was conspicuously absent, revealing a lean but well-defined torso marred by old scars—thin silvery lines, a few deeper gashes, the kind that spoke of a life spent in violent devotion.
His hair was mussed, yet his tail twitched slightly as he blinked blearily at the sheriff.
The sheriff stared.
Then his eyes trailed downward.
Oh for fucks sake–
N’s neck and collarbones were littered with fresh bite marks and hickeys, some still tender. The sheriff exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose in disappointment or frustration.
“You,” he said flatly, “look like you got mauled by a bear.”
N’s tail flicked back, and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Uh, aha.. uhm.. Training accident?”
The sheriff gave him a deadpan look. “Son, I’ve seen enough ‘training accidents’ in my time to know that’s a lie.”
N opened his mouth—no doubt to dig himself even deeper. But that's when a low, possessive growl slithered from the shadows behind him. The sound vibrated through the wooden floorboards, menacing and a warning, like thunder rolling in before a storm.
Then, golden eyes that were bright as embers in the dark materialized over his shoulder.
V emerged from the gloom, her movements slow and deliberate as her frame draped in what was unmistakably N’s sweater. The fabric swallowed her cozily, the collar slipping off one shoulder, revealing the faint scars and bite marks that marred her skin—some old, some very new.
She pressed herself against N’s back, her nose brushing the nape of his neck as she inhaled deeply, as if reaffirming his scent. A low, contented hum rumbled in her chest, vibrating against him.
“Den.” Her voice was a whisper, soft yet just as tempting as Thad’s cinnamon rolls. Very much warm, sweet, and indulgent. “Come back.”
Her fingers trailed down his sides, lingering suggestively low. Which was near his hips, his belt, and a bit lower...her claws pricking just enough to tease.
The sheriff’s mustache twitched. He didn’t need two brain cells to rub together to figure out why N looked so thoroughly wrecked. Hair mussed, shirt half-tucked, bruises peeking from beneath his collar. Either he was being toyed with, or they’d been—
“Gettin’ busy, I see.” The sheriff chuckled, tipping his hat back.
N’s face burned bright, but before he could splutter a denial, V’s gaze locked on to the sheriff.
The sleepy affection in her eyes snapped into something feral. Her pupils sharpened to dagger points, her grip on N tightening possessively and protectively. Claws pricked through the fabric of his pants, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her claim very clear.
The sheriff raised his hands. “Easy, killer. Just deliverin’ mail.”
N exhaled sharply, rubbing a soothing circle on V’s wrist. “Hey, hey! It’s okay. He’s not here to arrest anyone. Or hurt you or me.”
V didn’t relax, not fully at least. Her fingers flexed against N’s waist, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. The sheriff reeked—gunpowder, leather, and another woman's perfume.
Unacceptable.
The sheriff, wisely, took the opportunity to shove the letter into N’s free hand. “From the feds. Doll turned herself in.”
...
...
Huh?
The cozy feeling in the cabin plummeted almost instantly. The warmth leached from the room as if winter itself had crept through the cracks in the walls. Even V stopped her menacing and protective behavior, her breath hitching mid-snarl in a confused state.
“…What?” N just sounded more confused than worried.
The sheriff scratched his jaw, suddenly uneasy and unsure if he should've dropped the bomb like that so easily. “Yeah. Voluntarily, ‘parently. Figured you’d wanna know ‘fore the news spun it into some big takedown. She dropped by a few days ago… before bein’ captured.”
N held the envelope before his index finger felt around the envelope. He didn’t open it. Nor did he even look at it properly. He just stared at it before looking at the emblem, his eyes widened a bit.
Oh, ohhhh, Oh.
V leaned forward, her nose twitching as she sniffed the paper—then recoiled with a hiss, her lip curling back from razor-sharp fangs.
“Her.”
The sheriff raised a brow. “You can smell who wrote it?”
V’s pupils thinned to slits. “Obviously.”
That single word dripped with venom.
N acted fast. He turned his head, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to her cheek. “I-its okay! She’s not here. And she won’t be. Right?”
Desperate to calm the situation, the sheriff nodded along in agreement, though it did little to ease the tension coiling in V's muscles.
She growled, low and menacingly, but relented—just enough to seem understandable. Though she didn’t loosen her grip on N.
The sheriff took that as his cue to leave and live another day. “Right. Well. You got the letter. Try not to get eaten ‘fore breakfast.” He tipped his hat, already backing toward the door.
N chuckled, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at the envelope. “Thanks. For… uh.. delivering this. Must be important.”
The sheriff waved a hand over his shoulder. “Just don’t make me your damn courier again.”
"Haha, Sorry about that buddy!" N exclaimed, tiredly grinning as the Sheriff took his leave, closing the door behind him.
A minute of silence accompanying N & V as they both stood there, trying to think of how to tackle the topic of the letter.
Then the growl of the sheriff's engine roared to life, tires crunching over frozen gravel as the sheriff’s truck peeled away.
The moment the sheriff’s truck rumbled out of earshot, N let out a slow breath, his thumb still tracing the edge of the envelope.
"Sorry about that, biscuit," N apologized softly, grinning a bit as he sighed. Looking at the envelope, he whispered to himself, "Guess I should read it." But as he turned to make his way to the kitchen, he could barely take three steps toward the kitchen table, letter in hand before V's large and fluffy tail coiled itself around his waist, stopping him in his tracks.
“Kisses first,” She demanded, her voice took on a serious tone, yet her touch was gentle against the shell of his body. “Then you can read it.” She offered as she leaned down, teeth grazing against N's skin.
N’s mind went blank as he felt her teeth graze his jaw. Was it a moment of happiness or just a neuron activation moment?
Regardless, the letter was thrown onto the counter, forgotten for the moment.
“V..! I—”
She cut him off by spinning him around and pressing her lips to his, swallowing his words in a desperate kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.
They continued this kiss. Only the fight in N had long given way to submission and V's tongue. He closed his eyes, letting her deepen the kiss. It's as if she were starved, despite kissing him all night and exploring his body.
When she pulled back, her golden eyes burned with a look of hunger.
It was as if she wanted to devour him!
Whether it was sinking her teeth into his skin to feel him squirm or drawing out some oil to lather up while he moaned—each sound was like a symphony to her, and she reveled in it all.
"You owe me," She murmured, trailing her tongue along the bite marks she'd left earlier. "All night, you were distracted. Thinking about the past few days, even when we snuggled. Well... Now you're here. With me."
N shivered, his resolve crumbling as her hands slid down his chest, nails scraping lightly over old scars. He was always so damn shy about them, always turning away whenever she traced the silvered lines across his chest or the jagged one just above his crotch—but tonight, V wasn’t having it.
She nipped at his collarbone. “Mine.”
His core stuttered before quickly beating like crazy, ohhh he was such a freak.
His breathing hitched as he bit down on his bottom lip.
Was it finally happening?
V smirked, pushing him backward until his legs hit the couch and he sank onto the cushions, sitting down before she climbed onto his lap without hesitation, straddling him with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips. N’s hands flew to her waist, gripping tightly as a shudder ran through him.
“O-oh biscuits.. V–V, we—we should—”
“Should what?” She leaned in, lips brushing his as she spoke. “Talk about the letter? About her?” Her voice dropped to a possessive whisper. “No.”
N swallowed hard. He wanted to protest, to say that it wasn't about the letter but about her—but V’s tongue dragged over his pulse point, and all coherent thought evaporated. N tensed, instinctively trying to hunch in on himself, but V caught his wrists, pinning them to the couch as she grinned.
"Look at me," She ordered.
And that he did.
Her gaze was bold, pupils blown wide with lust—but beneath that was.. something softer. Something reverent was visible. Slowly, she released his wrists and traced the scars along his chest, her touch light and soft.
“Beautiful.” She whispered, before bending to press an open-mouthed kiss to the worst of them—a jagged raised line just below his left pectoral.
N’s blush only worsened.
No one had ever called his scars beautiful before.
V noticed them, many times ever since he's returned with this hunk of a body. But, she never had the guts to speak about them.
Until now.
She continued her exploration, kissing every mark, every imperfection, as if mapping him. Her lips were warm, her tongue hot where it flicked over his skin, teasing, tasting. Every so often, she’d pause to murmur against his flesh,
“Mine.”
A bite to his shoulder.
“Mine.”
A lick along his collarbone.
“Mine.”
N was trembling by the time her mouth found his again, his earlier hesitation melting under her relentless affection. His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips as she ground down against him, drawing a ragged groan from his throat.
V smirked, pulling back just enough to watch him unravel. “You like this,” She observed, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Being reminded who you belong to.”
N whined, his face burning. He did—God, he did—but admitting it out loud was—ohhhh it was so perverted to admit.
V didn’t need him to say it. She could feel it in the way his clawed fingers pricked at her skin, the way his breath came in short, desperate gasps.
She leaned in, lips brushing his. “Say it.”
N’s grip tightened. “...Yours..” He whispered, voice rough.
V purred, the sound vibrating through both of them. “Good boy.”
Then she was kissing him again, deep and claiming, her hands roaming his bare chest, his abs, and lower.
“You are going to give me cubs.”