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alavestineneas · 7 months

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Losing dogs

pairing: young!coriolanussnow x fem!reader

summary: His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return. warnings: not really canon-compliant, mentions of minor violence, blood and shitty relationships word count: 4k

Part 2 is here!

author's note: remember kids, manipulators and sick bastards are only hot in fiction - don't do them (and drugs) in real life!

The polished toes of his new shoes reflected everything in the grand hall—they caught glimmers of lamps adorned with gold, colourful drapes on the enormous windows, and the kaleidoscopic dresses of women around. The chatter filled the room, almost too loud to hear the music—not that he would enjoy it either. Some things require focus.

''Mister Fabius, Missis Fabius.''

Corialanus's face melts into a smile-like expression at the sight of the older couple.

They look like lice in the large building—rich lice, that is. The golden and platinum rings on Missis Fabius's fingers shine with every gemstone known to man, mirroring the bright lights. The jewels look ugly on the wrinkly hand, he notes. What a waste.

''Mister Snow, what a surprise! I was just telling Livia of your prodigious success in your new position. Incredible work, Mr. Snow; simply incredible! ''

The man's face radiated with excitement, getting closer in shade to his burgundy tie. The gold threats on it piqued more interest for Mister Snow than the words of the old man—after all, it's not every day you meet such luxury in person.

The man's wife, however, seemed less enthusiastic; her cold, bored gaze circled him up and down, stopping only after getting the satisfaction of an undoubtedly unpleasant conclusion.

Coriolanus mentally went over his outfit, hairstyle, and anything else she might have noticed. Nothing was out of place; the holes in his coat were a thing of the past. Still, it was something—that thought found its place in his brain, drilling a small hole in its way.

''When will we know of your decision, Mister Snow? We gave you time—a lot of time.''

''This evening, Mrs. Fabius. After the play, I promise to give you my answer tonight.''

He has to look first. What fool buys a horse blind? Sure, the horse came with immense fortunes and, most importantly, connections, but still. He couldn't afford to make a hasty decision, especially when the stakes were so high. After all, he was one of the most desirable bachelors; Fabiuses had to thank him for even considering the offer.

''There is no agreement until tomorrow, Mister Snow. We will have you for breakfast at nine o'clock sharp,'' Mr Fabius said, placing a hand on his wife's back and leading her towards the entrance. They could afford not to make one's adieu.

The opera was popular among the richest; all of the seats were taken. He would have lied if he said the golden rails and red velvet didn't make him feel a bit out of place. Nobody paid him any attention, although this time it didn't hurt him as much as usual. He could hide in the shadows of his box seat without being concerned about making an impression.

Not the stage, of course. It was the least of his worries, although he did pay a high price for a ticket. No, he looked at her.

The golden gown on her was a shimmering masterpiece. Layers and layers of the most expensive fabric covered her body like soft waves, crashing down at the round neckline with their gilded ends. She wore diamond earrings, just like her mother did, although they suited her better.

Coriolanus remembered her from the academy; she always sat near the window, gazing out at the world with a longing in her eyes. She wasn't a very bright student but rather a dutiful one. always on time, always prepared with her assignments, and always eager to please her teachers. The heiress to the jewellery empire. The flower of the elite social scene. Her presence attracted attention, yet she seamlessly blended into the background, never stealing the spotlight. YN Fabius was everything he needed her to be—a picture, but never a spectacle.

The manor was grand and opulent, showing the wealth and status of the Fabius family. Its sprawling gardens and delicate architecture were a testament to its esteemed position in society. Collums, paintings, and endless staircases stood as if frozen in time. It was as if there was no war just a decade ago.

''Mister Snow,'' the butler called out, his voice echoing through the grand foyer. ''Breakfast is served in the blue dining hall; if you would please follow me.''

Thousands and thousands of steps and passages lined the walls, leading to various wings and chambers of the mansion. It was warm, even during the cold autumn season. Only keeping the fireplaces always lit must cost a fortune.

When they finally reached the needed room, Coriolanus was slightly out of breath. The blue walls reached the high ceiling, painted with pictures of half-naked gods and goddesses frolicking in fields of flowers. It created the illusion of a smell wafting through the air as if the vibrant colours had come to life.

The table was served for four, not three, suggesting that someone else was expected to join them. The silverware gleamed under the soft rays of sunshine, casting a shimmering glow across the room—pure silver, nothing less.

The door behind him opened with a gentle creak, revealing Mr. Fabiuse's humble figure. His simple, at first glance, shirt was another of the perfectly constructed illusions—Coriolanus knew the fabrics like the back of his hand. The shirt, though seemingly plain, was made from the finest Egyptian cotton, woven with intricate patterns.

''Mister Snow, how good that you came on time. Excuse my ladies, the girls are such girls at every age. Take so long to get ready,'' he laughs. ''Please, take a seat," Mr. Fabius said, gesturing towards a plush chair covered in velvet.

''There is no point in all of those paints once you hit sixty,'' Mrs.Fabius said, appearing right behind her husband. She circled the table before taking a seat herself, her eyes glancing disapprovingly at the young man. "Let's begin before the food grows cold," she added with a sigh, her tone tinged with resignation.

''Of course,'' Mr. Fabius nodded, lifting the lid on the first dish. The aroma of it filled the room, and Coriolanus couldn't help but feel his hunger grow. He didn't have the habit of eating so much in the morning—another thing he needs to adjust about his routine.

When Mr.Fabius finally placed the fork down, Coriolanus knew it was time. ''Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fabius. I must say, I thought a lot about your proposal, and after careful consideration, I have decided to accept it.''

''Good.'' Mrs. Fabius answered instead, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "I'm glad to hear that, Coriolanus. I believe this union will bring great delights to both of us."

Mr. Fabius seemed not to notice the interruption. ''I think a winter wedding would be absolutely perfect. Everybody seems to be getting married in the spring, but in the winter? Oh, it's definitely going to be a hit. Ah, and here's the lucky bride-to-be!''

She stood beside the just-opened door, her eyes following his expressions. Her hands, adorned just with one small pearl ring, were gently clasped together in front of her. She looked nervous, like a child standing in front of the full class on the first school day. Her dress, a delicate lace creation, clings to her figure like a second skin.

He smiled at her. YN looked like an antique statue, as if she just stepped out of the ruins of the Panem. Coriolanus wasn't even sure she was breathing—her stillness was so deep.

''Let's leave the lover birds to chirp,'' Mrs.Fabius said, standing up. She walked towards the couple, her heels clicking against the floor, and extended her hand towards YN. "Congratulations, my dear," she said with a warm smile before leaving, her husband following after her.

''It's time for a ring, isn't it?'' Coriolanus cleared his throat. Everything is to be done appropriately; there is no reason to avoid traditions. He reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small box. White, of course—who is he, if not a romantic at heart?

''Mr. Snow,'' YN watched him stand up and come closer with the same expression she always bore—a mixture of melancholy and worship. ''Grant me something.''

He paused. Coriolanus didn't like to make promises. He would have to make it clear to her later, after the wedding—the fact that he took her for a bride was enough of a promise. Still, he needed this engagement to work, and he was not about to lose it to a crude lie. With a sigh, he softly replied, "What is it that you desire, Miss YN?"

''Promise me you will be kind to me. All of our marriage, promise to be kind to my heart.''

Coriolanus almost laughed in her face. Oh, what a lovely, clueless fool. "I will do my best to treat you with kindness, Miss YN."

''Good,'' she smiles. ''I think we will make a great couple then, Mister Snow.''

''Coriolanus, my dear. Please call me Coriolanus."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It was sealed. His golden prize, his future wife, was now bound to him by the ring on her finger. Of all of his investments, this one had the potential to yield the greatest return.

Mr.Fabius didn't lie—his daughter was the perfect bride. She never spoke to him unless he did first; she never questioned him. She simply followed his lead, like a well-trained pet. A pretty, lovely YN. She knew what to do, how to dress, and what to say. He searched for one—at least a slight imperfection—and couldn't find one; it was as if she wasn't a human, which, to him, she wasn't.

''What are you going to do today?'' he asks, without bothering to look up from the newspaper. He doesn't wish to hear her answer, but he still asks out of courtesy. Coriolanus knows that her daily routine is made up of attending charity events, dinners with influential figures's wives, and shopping for designer clothes. It's a predictable pattern.

''Well, the trees I ordered came in today; I'll have to chat with the new gardener about them. Are you meeting with anyone important later?"

''As a matter of fact, I do. Larry Tremblay wants to include me in a business deal he's been working on."

It's partly true, but she doesn't need to know more. Just a familiar name was usually enough for his wife to hum in satisfaction and assume that he was still climbing the social ladder. Not this time, evidently.

''You shouldn't accept.''

He looked up from his cup, trying to guess if she had gone out of her mind. YN looked like usual, her eyes meeting his without a care in the world. Why today, of all days, she decided to question his decision was beyond him. He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. "And why should I decline such a good-looking opportunity?"

''He beats his wife. Just yesterday, I saw her with bruises. ''

Coriolanus fought hard to keep a smile from forming on his lips. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, feigning indifference. He knew his wife wasn't the brightest, but this? "Is that so?"

''Don't you understand what it means? The man only beats his wife for two reasons. If he has always enjoyed those types of things, which Larry did not, or if he loses power and control in other aspects of his life. The business isn't going as well as he wants it to,'' YN lowers her gaze, losing confidence in her voice. ''I thought you would want to know that.''

He would, very much. Her conclusion was the dumbest thing he ever heard, based on some black and blue marks and a twist of her imagination. Still, it was interesting—his wife's head wasn't always empty like he hoped. She thought enough to notice something, and she listened enough to remember his partners.

''I will keep that in mind,'' he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. What harm could it do to entertain her thoughts? It was even slightly amusing to see her try to piece together a puzzle that didn't exist.

It wasn't so fun anymore when Larry Tremblay was fired exactly two weeks later. Surely, it could be a consequence, but Coriolanus Snow didn't believe in them. There had to be something, anything, to explain his wife's sudden knowledge—she couldn't have acquired it on her own, about that he was sure.

YN looked unfazed by his questioning gaze as she lay on the dark olive-coloured sofa in his office, continuing to play with a snow-white kitten on her stomach. It was his wedding gift, one of many—the pricy creature with a diamond collar. He thought it was rather symbolic—two caged animals who were once considered sacred.

''How did you understand that Tremblay was about to be fired?'' Coriolanus asked, his voice laced with suspicion. It could be that she overheard the woman talk about it, or even that she had some inside information from her connections. What bothered him more was what she could know from the same source about him.

YN paused, her fingers gently stroking the kitten's fur as she met his gaze. "I didn't know that. I simply knew he had trouble at work. Evidently, they were big enough for him to lose his position."

''Really?'' he chuckled. Maybe she was telling the truth. ''Then, what can you say about my work?''

YN's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your work doesn't matter; how you present yourself does. Can I give you some advice?'

"Sure.'' Coriolanus bit his tongue, fighting the urge to snap back at her. After all, it is what he married her for—to fit in. He took a deep breath.

''Buy a new car, but not the most expensive one; it will give off an impression of stability, like you know the job isn't going anywhere. Your shoes are always too polished; it's like you wore them right out of the box. And throw away that hideous tie you always wear—you look like a student."

''Something else?'' Coriolanus mustered a weak smile, trying to hide his frustration.

''I don't want to offend you, Coriolanus. But I want you to do well. After all, you are my husband now, and your success reflects on both of us. Why not help where I can? You know I love clothes.''

''Good, '' he replied, forcing a more genuine smile. "Now get away from that cat before it scratches you. I'll figure out the rest on my own."

''Of course you will. You are the smartest man I've ever met.''

He was. It was because of his intelligence that YN married him, because of his ambition. Well, that and something else.

From her earliest childhood, YN knew what she was destined to be. She was the child of late parents, the only child, and a girl; she would inherit everything the generations of her family worked so hard to achieve. And YN was no fool; she needed a man. Driven, proud, and cold-blooded. The one who was not afraid to get his hands dirty while she spent her time leisurely in his shadow. Oh, no—YN never minded her place, much like her mother did. She taught her to bet on the finest horses, and Coriolanus Snow was no exception.

From the time she saw him in his ridiculously tight shirt in the academy, she knew what she wanted. Him. The top of every class, the charmer with pretty eyes—a catch, really. Her mother said there was darkness inside her dear Coriolanus, but YN knew. That's why she now sits in the opulent living room, waiting for him to get home. Mr. Snow was a horrific, ruthless man. But he was still, at his core, a man.

And men never listen. That's how she got him and got him good—a silent, fawn-eyed creature that he thought he could control. An obedient wife and a lovely lap dog. It was funny to see his gaze twitch slightly when she said something she wasn't supposed to—how long would it take him to figure it out?

It's time—his tall figure appeared in the corridor leading to the living room. YN watches silently as he takes off his shoes and coat, placing them on the rack by the door. Home at seven p.m. sharp, just like any other day. Just like any other day, dinner is at the table.

He never said thank you. Instead, her closet grew bigger with countless dresses, bags, and shoes—sometimes even brand-new jewellery. YN didn't mind it; she loved it—the jealous whispers of other women at the events about how lucky she was. She didn't have to sleep with a big, fat old man to get the latest fur coat or the most exquisite diamond necklace.

At least a few times a month now, Coriolanus would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming. This night was one of those: YN woke up from the constant turning and tossing in the bed. She doesn't know how he didn't figure out why; it was easy to guess his food contained something to make his sleep far worse—YN made sure of that. Maybe he just didn't have the heart to admit his weaknesses, even to himself.

''Hey,'' she whispered, getting out of the warm covers. YN tiptoed over to Coriolanus' side of the bed, careful not to bump into anything in the dark. ''Hey, wake up. Are you okay?" she asked, gently shaking him awake.

Coriolanus jolted upright, his eyes wide with fear as he gasped for breath. He wasn't; of course, he wasn't. Yn would have lied if she said she didn't find it hot to see him like this—sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest heaving.

''You were having a nightmare again.''

He looked at her with the eyes of a lunatic, still not over his dream. ''What did I say this time?"

''You were mumbling something about birds and songs, I think? It didn't make much sense."

He doesn't recall that she mentored the 10th game too. Without much success, of course, but one thing she did remember was a girl from District 12 who liked to sing. Coriolanus remembered her too; it was evident from the fear that crossed his eyes.

''Excuse me,'' he said, his voice still shaky. ''I need a moment.''

YN watched as he stumbled towards the bathroom, his hands twitching. As much as her husband wanted to hide those parts of himself, he couldn't. Not from her.

There was nothing else to do but wait. YN climbed on the bed, turning her back to the bathroom door. Coriolanus would only come out when he thought she had fallen asleep. She learned to control her breath when she was just a little girl; it saved her life once, when a rebel pointed a gun at her small frame, meaning to shoot. He didn't—what use was it to waste a bullet on a non-breathing child?

Surely, after some time, the blonde man stepped out of the bathroom. For a few minutes, he listened to her steady breathing before sliding under the covers and pressing his body against hers, his large hand covering her shoulders. Coriolanus wasn't gentle; YN wasn't sure he knew what the word meant anyway, but he was careful. His arm around her chest wasn't tight—just enough for him to bring her closer.

As much as YN wanted to turn around and face him, she didn't. There was no point—like any other human, he hated the feeling of vulnerability. Instead, YN focused on the warmth of his body. Coriolanus Snow was a god more than a human, and real gods were never kind. The only currency they recognized was blood.

The annual party for the victor of this year's games. The first year Coriolanus Snow worked as a head gamemaker, his creation was a bloodbath, a spectacle of violence and despair. He did a good job—an excellent one, even—and one of the greatest stars of today's celebration was him.

They needed to dress the part in clothes that exuded power. And so they did. Coriolanus's suit was ample—purple velvet with gold embroidery—the colour of Roman emperors. The colour of the winners. The suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, suiting his white hair. Gold cufflinks, gold rings—he looked like a sovereign among men. It was risky to do so right in front of the current president, but who was Coriolanus Snow if he was not confident in his success?

YN wore the gown from the matching collection, a floor-length masterpiece. The deep purple colour was a stark contrast to her skin tone. And jewellery, of course—she came from the Fabius family for a reason. The lavender diamonds on her necklace and earrings. They were rare—the rarest—even. Only a few violet diamonds have been mined in the past seventy years.

It was all anyone talked about behind their backs. Whispers, rumours, and so much venom dripped from the mouths of Panem's elite—that's what they were hoping for, anyway. The Snows were just as shamelessly rich as they were powerful.

That's why they now sat at the President's table, just a few faces away from them. Coriolanus smiled to himself - not even the President's wife could compare to YN. Not in fashion, not in elegance. He had an impeccable taste - even a person far away from politics could see that.

''A toast!'' the President stood up with a glass in his hand, turning to face the Coriolanus. ''I am sure many of you know who was the mastermind behind the games this year - it's my pleasure to introduce Coriolanus Snow to those of you who don't. However, not many know his story of success. From a dirt-poor background, when his greatest possession was his family name, he worked hard to achieve the position he holds today. Let us raise our glasses and celebrate his remarkable journey to success and the country of Panem - the land of opportunity!''

YN cursed under her breath as she listened to the crowd cheer for her husband. He remained stoic - the only thing that gave away his fury was his eyes - they grew as dark as the sky outside. She didn't bother to calm him - this fire was impossible to put out. The President made a fatal mistake with his speech - she knows. But the true fear crept into her heart when she saw the President's wife pass Coriolanus the dish.

Cabbage.

Under a fancy sauce, it could be transformed into a delicacy fit for their circle. But tonight, it was his last straw. The colours changed on the face of Coriolanus, from white to all shades of red. His fists clenched, and veins pulsed on his temples. The room fell silent as they observed.

''Oh, I am so sorry,'' YN chipped in. Quick, something. ''I have a terrible allergy to cabbage.''

The President's wife looked concerned. ''Oh, I didn't know.''

YN made her eyes water, throwing a coughing feat for more dramatic effect. ''I think I need to step outside for some fresh air."

She felt a warm hand on her back. ''Let me accompany you, just to make sure you're alright." her husband announced, carefully leading her towards the exit.

The first thing he did when they reached the women's bathroom was break the mirrors in a fit of anger. Shards of glass scattered across the floor as he paced around the room like a caged animal. YN watched as shouted and hit the walls, sitting on the bathroom floor. Beautiful one - the tile was a lovely shade of pink, contrasting with the chaos unfolding before her.

After a good few minutes, he finally calmed down and sank to the floor beside her, his face buried in his hands. Her husband, her hauntingly beautiful, pathetic husband - oh, what a sight. He looked mad, maniac, even; his blonde hair was far from its usual perfectly styled form, falling on his tear-stained cheeks.

"What do you think of me?"

His voice is hoarse, a few notes down from a honey-like. She likes it better, YN thinks - nothing of the fasçade he was trying so hard to uphold. No, just a raw hunger with a mix of equally raw despair.

"I think you are an animal, Coriolanus."

She smiles, watching his expression change. He suspected it, of course - her husband was a smart man. Still, he can't believe it - his head twitches in her direction, his gorgeous bottomless eyes shining under the weak light of the only surviving floor lamp.

"What?" he asks with such a loss in his voice YN has to fight the urge to bring him close. Not now, she thinks. It's not the time.

"A hungry, desperate, sick, sick animal with nothing to lose."

Coriolanus gets closer abruptly, clearly angered - she can't let him leave now. His arm shouts to find its place on her neck, long, slim fingers forming a circle around her throat. "You think I am after money, don't you?"

"No, no," a yelp escapes her lips, bordering a hysterical laugh. "Only fools are after money, Coriolanus, and you are no fool."

YN watches as he loses his grip a little, calmed by her words. What a pitiful, fascinating creature was her husband - one word of reassurance and he is willing to let thousands of cursings slide.

"What is it, then? What did you fantasize about in your small dull head?"

He still doesn't believe her. YN is surprised at how quickly it becomes boring.

"You want power."

Clap - the grip on her neck is tight again.

"That's why you choose the fear. People forget the hand that feeds them, but the one who beats? Never."

The frown on his face falls a little, and through the gritted teeth escapes something like a curse. "You talk an awful lot about me," he notes. "What are you hungry for?"

"You."

He laughs. That was a deep, chest laugh - YN thinks she never heard him laugh so sincerely. "You want my love? Don't lie to me, YN," he taunts, pressing a little harder on her neck.

"Not love. Love is easily swayed, is it not? No, I want you."

Coriolanus looks at her as if he never done so before. Well, he looked thousands of times, but he didn't see. His eyes study every expression in hers, every part of her face. "A hungry dog is not a loyal dog," he finally masters.

There is a certain silence after his words. YN gulps, desperatly trying to help her dried throat - the blood from his hands ran down her neck onto her exposed chest, leaving sticky, dark trails behind.

"Feed me, then."

He kisses her. He puts a force behind it, watching her hands fall on his chest for some kind of support. Coriolanus kisses her until there is no air in YN's chest anymore, and she has to push him away to take a rushed breath.

They were going to be just fine.

After all, they both never bet on losing dogs.

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inmilmar · 2 years

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elfven-blog · 11 months

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The Better Companion

Summary: You consider getting your bunny a companion, he shows you why it’s not necessary.

Bunny!Leon x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, breeding, p in v, using clothes to masturbate, bunny!leon, eating out, somnophilia Word count: 2.3K Credit: That anon from @lipglossanon thank you for the inspiration

When hybrids became a popular companion for people, most went for cats and dogs. The kittens and the puppies were adorable with their floppy ears or their soft tails. As a kid you were always jealous, not only could your family not afford a hybrid at the time (especially with adoption not being an option back then) but you simply never had the room for them. It wasn’t all bad, you had a friend who grew up with her two dogs. A Rottweiler and an American Cocker Spaniel sibling pair that Jill’s parents had brought, originally they had just wanted the male Rottweiler, but he wouldn’t leave the girl.

You had spent a lot of time around Jill’s house anyway with your mothers haven being childhood friends, it was a given you would be too. Even now with the both of you fully grown, having moved out of your childhood homes and with jobs the both of you were still the best of friends. The hybrid laws had changed over the years, adoption was more widespread, hybrid children were welcomed in schools, their healthcare had been explored more, they could get jobs, but it was still stunted. While they had more rights the hybrids were still seen as companions more than their own people. More like pets.

But one thing to change for you personally was that you had adopted a hybrid. It wasn’t a dog or a cat like you wanted as a child, you had gone with a bunny. He was a fully grown rabbit that hated being called bunny by anyone other than you, he had the cutest floppy ears and a cotton tail that twitched when he was annoyed. Recently, however, your bunny had been more short-tempered than usual.

On this particular morning before you left for work he had thumped and even bitten, some of the wooden toys you had to buy to keep his teeth down, in half. Normally his tantrums were never so bad, you dreaded what your house would look like when you finished your shift. You had been ranting to Jill for nearly your entire shift, whenever she made her way near the police reception desk for more papers or whatever she needed to do her job.

“He’s a bunny right? Maybe he needs a friend? They’re not meant to be alone, and you’ve picked up extra shifts” oh and now you felt silly, of course he needed a friend. Your mouth dropped open as you thought about Jill’s words. Thanking her as she walked off to her own desk to continue whatever case she was on. You set about scrolling on your computer to look for a companion for your normally sweet bunny. An extra mouth to feed would mean you needed to possible pick up more shifts, but it would be worth it to keep Leon happy.

You walked through the door after your long shift had finished, not seeing, or hearing the usual noises of Leon as you pulled your coat and shoes off to leave them by the door. With that done you walked further into the house, making your way to the living room and your mouth dropped open in surprise. The tv was playing one of Leon’s favourite shows, which wasn’t unusual, but the area was covered in the various blankets and pillows you had collected over the years. And in the centre on the floor was a small blanket fort, you got on your knees and lifted the blanket slightly.

And there under the fort, swaddled in another blanket and surrounded by your jumpers and hoodies was the blonde bunny. Your heart softened at the gaze as you looked at him, moving further into the small area, Leon was asleep, small snores leaving him as he nuzzled into one of your favourite hoodies. You lay down next to him, hands running through his hair and over his sensitive ears which caused him to roll over and bury his face into your chest instead, letting the hoodie fall from his grasp.

The action caused you to smile down at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and grabbing one of the blankets from the floor to pull over you both as you settle down on the floor. Your attention is on the tv but as you grab the blanket your hand touches something sticky, and you take a breath of annoyance. You had told Leon before to eat at the table. You glanced down to see what food or drink he had spilt this time, but your eyes go wide, and a squeak leaves you as you look at the sticky white on the colourful blanket.

There was a lot of it. You looked around the small area he had made for himself, realising that quite a few items of yours were covered in dried white marks. God, you really really needed to get him a companion. But first, you peeled him off you and moved out of the den and quickly went to go take a shower. Feeling embarrassed while under the water as the image of your clothes covered in your sweet bunnies cum flashed through your mind. There was a small part of your mind, a dark part that lit up at the idea and slick gathered between your thighs at the idea of Leon sniffing your hoodies while his hips rutted his cock up into his fist.

You reached your hand up and turned the dial on the shower so that cold water ran down your body, stopping the heat in its track to cool you down and wash those thoughts away. He was your bunny; you couldn’t have those dirty thoughts.

After the shower which took longer than you normally did and finally changing into some comfy clothes you made your way back to the living room, nerves eating away at what you might find. But much to your surprise, the entire thing had been put away. Even the soiled clothing had been put on to wash from what you could hear. And Leon was sat on the sofa like nothing had happened as he smiled up at you innocently.

With this sight your shoulders relaxed, and you moved to sit down on the sofa. Leons mouth pulled down in a frown at how far away you sat, he let out a short hissing sound his head moving under your chin to tell you he wanted attention. You bit your lip feeling a bit awkward as your hand moved up to pet at his hair and ears causing the hissing to ease into a clucking as he became more content and he slowly moved to rest his head on your lap.

As your nails carded against his scalp and he let out that low clucking from the back of his throat, you reached for your phone and pulled up the adoption website you had been browsing at work. Leons attention was pulled to you when you placed the phone in front of his face “Take a look at this for me?” he could hear the slight apprehension in your voice, and he took the phone with suspicion.

You could feel Leon starting to bristle as he looked at the site, his eyes darkening at the sight of all the doe’s he was scrolling past. When he spoke his voice was terse “What is this?” you watched his cottontail twitch in annoyance and heard the grinding of his teeth. Your hand moving to soothe through his hair as you shrugged.

“Rabbits are social…I’ve been working a lot and I just figured you needed a more constant companion. All those doe’s are ready for adoption, and we could go look over the weekend” Before you could even finish your sentence Leon had stood up, thrown your phone onto the sofa next to you and started going walking away “Leon!”

He ignored you as he walked to his room stomping up the stairs as he went, slamming the door behind him and you heard the lock click into place as well. You rubbed at your forehead with a sigh. The rest of the evening was spent with the house in silence before you made your way to bed a little later that night. Making sure to leave him out some food for when he, no doubt, ventured out after he heard your door shut.

You wake up in a haze, your brow scrunched as you realised how hot you felt. You try to move your legs but there’s a grunt and their pinned down by something heavy. Then you finally notice the hot and wet feeling between your thighs. Your eyes drift down to see blonde hair, tongue lapping at your cunt. Your brain is slow to process what’s happening, but your body reacts immediately, hands curling into his hair as your hips roll up into his mouth.

Leon opens his eyes, almost no blue left in them as his arms move to pin your hips down as he pulls away. His mouth and jaw are dripping in slick “Finally awake little doe? Tasting this juicy pussy for so long, just lay back and let me” you whine still in a daze as he goes back to sucking on your clit, his tongue licking over your pussy lips.

“Why would I need another dumb rabbit? Got the best pussy right here, s’all I need” slick drips out of your fluttering hole at his words, and he drinks it up. His tongue fucking into your needy hole “So greedy, just need to a good doe and let me have my fill”.

Your mind starts to clear as you tug his hair, pulling him further into your pussy with a whine “Shouldn’t do this, s’dirty” Leon groans into your pussy, hands moving to your thighs to pin them down and leave you spread open as he pulls away.

“Not dirty, just what you need. A big strong buck to fill you up” He spits onto your pussy, causing you to whine as he watches it drip down until he’s fucking it into your hole with his tongue and your hips roll up. He moves to press wet open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive clit as his tongue flicks against it over and over until your back is arching pressing you pussy into his mouth.

“Leon, gonna cum, g’nna make me cum” You’re moaning as you speak, and one of your hands moves to tug his ear. He groans into you clenching hole, lapping at your pussy lips with slow strokes before he’s tongue fucking you again. His hands press your thighs to his head, as you squeeze around him and continuously roll your hips up.

“C’mon pretty doe, cum all over my face, get me messy” His face is pressed into your folds, as he sucks on the sensitive bud. Your hands tighten in a bruising grip as your legs kick and his face is covered in your slick as you cum, coating his jaw and chin as it drips down.

Leon moves up the bed, body pressing against yours to pin you to the bed and you taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you messily until there’s spit drooling down your chin. His hands move your legs to so he can easily rut his hips up, his cock running through the slick dripping from your folds. Your hands claw at his broad back as Leon presses the fat head of his cock slip into the clenching hole of your warmth.

He sinks slowly into you before pulling back out and then pushing back in. His pace not changing as he buries himself into your pussy. “Gonna look so pretty, all swollen with my kits” His words turn your head to syrup as he fucks into you, and you decide it’s not enough as your hands scratch at his shoulders and your legs wrap around his waist.

Luckily your bunny takes the hint quickly, his hips speeding up until he’s railing you into the bed and his weight is pressing you down. He’s thrusting into you deeper and deeper until you’re sure you can feel the tip of him kiss your cervix. His hand moves between your bodies so he can rub and pinch at your clit while he fucks his cock deep into your pussy.

You choke on a whine, eyes clouded from the sensation of burning pleasure coursing through your body. “Please, Leon. Want it so bad, breed me, please” Your voice is a whisper as you beg him to fuck you full of his seed, and his eyes almost go black from the pleasure your words bring as he rabbits his hips against yours. Wet slapping fills the room from the force of his thrusts that have the bed knocking against the wall.

“God yes, gonna fill you, keep you here on my cock to make sure it takes” His voice is low and wanting as your walls squeeze hard on him, grunts falling from him as he pushes his hips flush with yours. Your orgasm hits with an intense force as you gush around his cock and coat your thighs while it drips onto the sheet. Leon holds you to him as he slows his rhythm down all the while still continuing to push into you, your hole spasms and clenches around him as he circles your clit, your legs shake from the overstimulation.

He stills his hips close to yours, head burying in your neck as he licks at the skin, his cock kicks inside you before he’s filling you with a hot sticky mess. He lays his body against you to keep you there as he gives you a slow gently kiss and his hands move to soothe at your sides and legs. “So so pretty, my pretty doe”.

Maybe you didn’t need to get him a companion after all.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4!leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy smut #leon kennedy x f!reader #Leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader

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finelinevogue · 5 months

Text

a montage of love

summary - a fan has put together a small video of some of your best moments together

word count - ~1.5k

pairing - boyfriend!harry x youtuber!reader

The video screen filled with pictures of you and Harry along with the title ‘A quiet love like Harry and Y/Ns’.

The ten minute video was a fan-made compilation of moments between you and Harry that were quiet love moments. Moments where you didn’t say the words ‘I love you’ out loud, but the actions were louder than words anyways.

The fan put a disclaimer on the screen and claimed that they didn’t own any of the content.

You was a YouTuber so a lot of the content came from her channel, since Harry was always so proud and happy to be on your channel.

The video then started.

>>>>Clip 1:

The background was noise, since you were in a restaurant.

You and Harry were sat on the same side of the green velvet booth, shoulder to shoulder as if it were a pain to be sat apart.

The camera was placed on the table in front of you. You didn’t want to film the whole evening, since it was along time you and Harry couldn’t afford to waste, but you wanted to record a little just for memories.

Harry’s hand comes into view to hold yours that’s resting on the table. When you accept his hand, he brings them both up to his lips to give your skin a soft kiss.

“I love you.” He said quietly, but the camera picks it up.

“I love you too.” You blushed and rested your head against his shoulder affectionately.

“You want the last bite of my chocolate cake?” He asked you.

You nodded against his shoulder and he brought his other hand, fork loaded with a chocolate bite delight up to your mouth for you.

You ate it swiftly, not allowing any crumbs.

That bite was Harry’s way of saying I love you, again, but just in a different way.

>>>>Clip 2:

Standing in front of the floor length mirror in your house, you filmed for a winters walk vlog.

Lulu, your dog, padded around by your feet, awaiting her walk.

You were showing your outfit.

“My leggings are from H&M; cheap and cheerful my lovelies! The hoodie is from Harry’s wardrobe, but I believe it’s not cheap and cheerful. Don’t ask me why it isn’t, when it’s literally just a blue hoodie…”

You often joked about Harry’s incessant need to buy expensive clothes when he could be better spending it elsewhere… like on you!

“The coat is from Zara, I think, but I bought it from Vinted. Grabbed a great price for it and we’re preventing fast fashion in this household. And finally my ugly walking boots are from Go Outdoors. Sexy, I know!” You joked.

Harry walked in behind you then, dressed in a similar attire only with black running shorts over his leggings.

“Ready?” You asked him.

“Not until you bloody zip your coat up.” Harry huffed, picking up the keys from the key bowl by the front door.

“I don’t need to.”

“Yeah, nice try you.” He laughed and then his was before you, taking matters into his own hands and zipping up your coat for you.

Technically one of your hands was filming and the other was controlling Lulu, so there wasn’t much you could do anyways.

“So annoying.”

“Huff and pout all you like, but I’m saving you from a life of misery and cold.” He looked proud of himself after he zipped you up.

“Happy now?” You sarcastically asked.

“Not without a kiss I’m not.”

You pretended like that was a chore, but really you were excited to give him a kiss. The video stopped then, because you weren’t one to expose your PDA to the public.

>>>>Clip 3:

In the same video, you filmed your walk with Harry and Lulu.

You went on a walk alongside a canal, stopping off around at a little book swap along the way. Harry picked up a book and so did you, Harry offering to carry them both as you were walking Lulu.

You were walking canal side when Harry tugged on your hand and pulled you across him.

“What are you doing?” You laughed, Lulu happily walking ahead of you both.

“Making sure you’re less likely to fall in the canal, especially if Lulu tugs you.”

Harry was now walking canal side, holding your hand with his.

You made sure the camera caught the moment where you kissed his cheek in silent thanks, forever indebted to his gentlemanly capabilities.

>>>>Clip 4:

The room is bright as the sunset burns through the room.

You are sat on the floor, in front of the sofa in the living room, filming a segment of a video where you answer fan questions.

“What did Harry get you for Christmas?” You read out the question that you were asked via Instagram.

“He decided to get me a weighted blanket, because every time he goes away I find it quite difficult to fall asleep. The idea of the weighted blanket is to mimic him lying across me, which makes me feel more safe and calms me into sleeping better.”

You blushed as you answered, picking up your cup of tea to take a sip of it to hide your embarrassment.

You paused to think about you opening that gift and how happy you had been in that moment. Harry knew not to buy you anything that was expensive or materialistic. He bought you something practical and perfect, plus the he bought it in your favourite colour; yellow.

It was such a thoughtful gift and even more thoughtful coming from a man who could’ve easily bought you a meaningless yacht if he wanted.

The front door then unlocked and you turned to see who it was.

“Hey, m’love.” Harry said as he walked through, Pleasing tote bag on his shoulder and wrapped for winter.

“Hello, you. How was your day?” You asked him, watching him take off his coat and shoes.

“Busy, but good. Yeah, we wrote an entire verse which I’m proper happy with.”

“I’m just filming a bit for my next vlog, but I’ll make is dinner in a bit.” You promised, knowing he would be hungry after a full day in the studio.

Harry walked over to you, with a bunch of colourful tulips in his hand. He crouched down beside you, waving into the recording camera before handing over the flowers to you.

“For me?” You pouted at how sweet the gesture was, “Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“Harry…” You whined, feeling like you could cry. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth more than that, which is why takeaway is on me tonight.” He kissed your forehead - aware that the camera was still rolling.

“It’s always on you, honey.” You joked.

“That’s right. Treat you so well, don’t I?”

You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Did you eat today?” You asked him, concerned for his wellbeing as much as he is for yours.

“I did. Mitch brought us a couple boxes of sushi.”

“As long as you’ve had something, that’s all I care about.”

“Oh what would I do without you, my love?” Harry asked you, kissing your cheek.

“Perish.”

“That’s one word for it.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec #harry styles boyfriend #boyfriendrry

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?”

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

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simsyworld · 1 year

Text

Reclaimed Roots, A Legacy Challenge.

One fateful day, as you flip the pages in the local newspaper, your eyes fall upon an advertisement for an affordable farm on the outskirts of town. This farm had fallen into disrepair, abandoned and forgotten by its previous owners, who had inherited the farm but chose to not take care of it. Despite its rundown state, a flicker of hope ignited within your heart. Your dream of owning a small farm to raise your future family may become a reality!

You call the owner’s of the property and they start asking for more money. This went from being an affordable farm to a pricey one! You decide to take a leap of faith and go for it. Packing your belongings immediately and setting out for the neglected farms of your dream. When you arrive, you see just how neglected the farm truly is. You find a weathered farmhouse, its paint peeling and windows cracked, surrounded by overgrown fields and rotten fences. But you see beauty hidden underneath it all.

You see a vision of what this farm could be. A fresh coat of paint, rescued animals, beautiful old oak trees flourishing, children riding their bikes and fishing in the pound. This is where you want your new life you begin.

Required Packs: For Gameplay: Cottage Living, Cats and Dogs, and a pack that allows yard sales. House is made with a bunch of packs but is mostly just all clutter! Main items are from the gameplay packs.

Rules: Aspiration must be country caretaker Start with $500 Place @simsyworld’s lot from the gallery called "Abandoned Farm" hashtag #reclaimedroots or #reclaimedrootslegacy Each generation must live on the family farm. This may call for an extension of the house, a second floor, or a basement. If your sim has more than one kid, they can move out. But the sim you decide to cary on the legacy must live on the farm. Your house has no wifi, so no computers or gaming consoles. A TV can be bought after you fix up the house. Your sim cannot have a job. Make money by yard sales or odd jobs. Your sim’s teenager sim’s can have a part-time job but they must still help out on the farm Wake up by 6:30am every day to take care of the animals (can take a nap after animals have been cared for) Cannot use “the hand of god” (selling in inventory) UNLESS there is more than 20 in a stack of crops. All other items must be sold during a yard sale. Have a yard sale at least once a week, every Sunday. If it is raining you can skip the yard sale. Sell anything you collect, baked goods, rocks, ect.

Generation One

Name the farm after your last name

Clean the house, buy a new mailbox, pick the weeds, and apply a fresh coat of paint to the house.

Find a stray cat to be your farm cat. This cat likes to live outdoors, so place a bed and food outside. If you get a full relationship with the cat, it can live indoors.

Buy 6 chickens and name each one.

Build a relationship with each animal before getting a new one

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Befriend the animals and complete the country caretaker Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Farming, Fishing, Cooking

Fall in love with a local farmer

Get married and have a ceremony on the farm

Have 1-2 children

When your first child is born, rescue a puppy that will become best friends with your child

When each sim ages up to a child, you must buy them a bike as a birthday present so your sim’s child can go on adventures.

Teach your children how to fish, cook, and garden

Generation Two

You grow up loving the farm and craving the taste of fresh produce. You watched your parents sell produce and baked goods every Sunday morning and thought it would be a great idea to go bigger! You decide to work towards your goal of making your name in town a staple by opening a store named after your family!

Have the Freelance Botanist Aspiration

Paint the house a new color since after all these years it needs a fresh coat.

Buy your family their first computer now that you have wifi

Reach level 10 for Cooking, Baking, Charisma

Find a stray dog to adopt into the family

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love, get married, and divorced. This relationship didn’t work out.

Own a bakery, store, or restaurant that focuses on the idea of selling food or produce that is fresh. You do not have to have yard sales after you build a store.

Become good friends with at least 20 sims outside of your household.

A local baby/child was dropped off at the fire station. You decide to adopt this sim to live on the family farm!

Build max relationship with your sim’s child.

Teach your sim’s child how to garden, cook, and fish.

Fall in love and get married

Have family dinner all together on Friday nights including your sim’s siblings who moved out

Generation Three

You were adopted into the most loving family. You fell more into the creative side of life. Always drawing, painting, doing arts and crafts. When you got older you fell in love with the relaxation of making floral arrangements.

Have the Painter Extraordinaire Aspiration

Reach level 10 for Floral Arrangements, Painting, Gardening

Make 3 masterpiece paintings

Befriend all the animals on the farm with max relationship

Inherit the family business and turn it into a floral arraignment store. You can also sell your paintings here.

Have 5 maxed relationship friends who you always hang out with

Enter a Finchwick Fair competition

Fall in love with 1 of the 5 friends.

Have family dinner’s on Friday nights and friend dinner’s on Monday night

Find a stray cat to adopt. This cat is obsessed with you and follows you to work at the floral arrangement store.

Marry your best friend and have a ceremony. Invite all of your friends and family

Have as many children as you feel is right.

Do homework with your sim’s children every night

Looking for a Discord server for simmers? Check out our 920+ member server called SimsyWorld! We host weekly challenges and giveaways if you're interested! Click HERE to join!

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sxgarp0pz · 2 months

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"Mrooow?"— Ramshackle x cat reader Hcs.

GN READER. Cw: death/injury joke, may possibly be OOC In which, reader is a strangely smart cat— a specific three scraps’s cat. did they adopt reader? Of course not! Yet they’re here to stay ****************************************************** • Now, how exactly did they all meet? Cat!reader found them a stash of beans, and the scraps gave them affection. That’s it. And from then on cat!reader stuck around!

“No, we are not keeping that thing- we can barely afford to feed ourselves.” Stone said harshly. “But stooneee,” skipp whined, “they found us beans!” stone was silent for a moment, hearing what just came out of the other male’s mouth. “what the f—”

•They ended up letting cat!reader hang around, as long as they kept finding things for them.

•also, they nicknamed cat!reader whiskers. Of course they still call the kitty by name, but it’s just more fun that way. they’re truly a little endearing pack, aren’t they. •Vinnie definitely treats them like a truffle pig or bloodhound, having them sniff around for everything they need

•She also gave cat! a little bandanna! (even if it’s a little worn down, its still lovely<3) • I imagine them having a little stack of old newspapers laying kinda like a nest? Right by where they all sleep

• I can see the two of them’s relationship could be like an orange cat and a black cat.

• Skipp likes to practice his music with cat!reader around, as cat!reader always give feedback- whether it’s a flick of their tail or a purr, he’s appreciative

•It’s the same with any of his other hobbies, they’re always right there.

•Skipp is usually the one to carry them, in his arms or on his shoulders.

•The two of them’s relationship is most definitely like a golden retriever who talks, and a black cat who listens.

•Stones an interesting one,, if skipp’s not carrying them, they’re most likely laying on his shoulders!

• I love the idea that he calls them whiskers the most out of the three.

•Sometimes when Stone’s laying down or finally took it off, they’ll snuggle into his coat.

•I imagine the two of them’s relationship is like two black cats. One caring brooding void, and one silly void!

•This isn’t to say cat!reader’s an angel, no. They’re really quite a trouble-maker to the town, honestly.

•No one can’t leave bread of fruit on shelves or vendors, lest they scamper off with it. • I can see cat!reader picking fights with the actual “proper” pets, cat or dog but especially birds.

•Their first reaction to maggot was to immediately lightly bap his face, but then they felt bad so they started caring for him.

• When the pageant came, cat!reader begrudgingly switched out their bandanna for a white “necktie” (it was just a clean piece of ribbon)

•I can see cat!reader ending up scratching someone who booed at maggot

•I imagine that when the fight happened, they were going all out and ended up being like that party cat meme. “Beauty pageant horror!: rogue feline attack, 5 dead 9 injured”

• All in all, I see Maggot & cat!reader’s relationship like; weird kitten/over-protective sibling cat BONUS: they were given a toy mouse by maggot

((I have never done anything like this, so feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send asks if you’d like as well, I’ll get back to them soon as possible!!))

#ramshackle #ramshackle pilot #ramshackle stone #skipp ramshackle #vinnie ramshackle #ramshackle x reader #maggot ramshackle #Ramshackle skipp #ramshackle vinnie #Ramshackle x cat!reader #Platonic ramshackle #Ramshackle hcs

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catscidr · 6 months

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Can I please request Dottore x clingy reader who loves giving him affection thank you! 💕

hell yeah baby that's what i'm TALKIN ABOUT ୧(☉□☉୨ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, vague mentions of gore includes: gn!reader, dottore, webttore mentionned for like a second wc: 1k

6 minutes.

That was the longest amount of time Dottore had gone without being bugged by your presence. Well, "bugged” was a bit of a strong word- maybe more so inconvenienced by your endless whining for attention. It’s not that he hated it, it was quite the opposite really, but he actually needed to get work done before tomorrow and couldn’t afford to get distracted this time around. You called out after him for the millionth time today, trotting up to his side with an almost puppy-like expression, looking up at him expectantly.

Currently wrist deep in the guts of one of his poor victims, he swallowed down the urge to speak his mind honestly, instead choosing to glance over at you from the corner of his eyes. His glare (unfortunately) did nothing to deter your determination and willpower- with his attention now on you, you flash him a bright smile, wrapping your arms around his torso from his right side.

“Hey, why don’t you take a break?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him properly. Dottore’s sharp, angular features never failed to make you swoon no matter how many times you looked at his unmasked face. You think it’s a blessing, but he argues that it’s a curse- especially now that you won’t leave him alone, making him pause his work.

“No,” he sighs for the nth time, bringing his attention back to the corpse on the metal table. “I have work to do. Why don’t you go bother Delta instead? He should be filing out some paperwork,” the doctor says, skillfully shrugging you off of him. You shake your head, resting your hands on his forearm to give him the space he needed.

“I don’t want to hang out with him though,” you say with a frown, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Come on, you’ve been working non-stop for ages now. Just a small break! An itty bitty one. Like thirty minutes. You can spare that much, can you?”

The Harbinger stares at the wall with a deadpan expression, weighing his options. On one hand, he could give in, listen to you and take a much needed break. But on the other hand, he could always just... lock you in his office. Not that he would leave you there for long, just enough for him to get this experiment over with. Plus it’s not like you’d be like a dog stuck in a hot car in the middle of summer without any a/c, he had a plush sofa he never used im his office alongside a mini fridge he also never used. The amenities were there for this exact scenario, anyways- so you’d be comfortable while waiting for him to be done. Although, the more he thought about it, the more his body began to feel heavy, exhaustion seeping through his limbs. Dottore grumbles some choice words under his breath and withdraws his arms out from the bloody mess that came from his current experiment and makes his way towards the sink. You follow after him, curious.

“‘Ttore?”

“I give up,” the doctor sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. He turns on the sink and discards his bloody surgical gloves, washing his calloused hands under the cold water to get rid of whatever gunk had gotten on his skin. “What do you want?” he asks in an indecipherable tone. You perk up noticeably, a smile making its way back to your face as you watch him dry his hands and turn around to give you his full attention.

“Just wanna spend time with you, honestly.” you say a little sheepishly. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not hungry.”

“Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?”

The offer seemed tempting. After spending hours smelling nothing but hospital-grade cleaning supplies, iron and death the doctor wouldn’t say no to a trip outside of his lab- that is to say if he were anyone but the second Harbinger.

Instead, he grabs his mask and lab coat from the coat rack and begins to walk away, making a gesture for you to follow after him. And you do so eagerly, catching up to him fairly quickly considering how long his strides were.

Your footsteps echo in the quiet hallways, the only sound bouncing off the ornate walls of the otherwise cold and barren palace. The both of you reach your destination, Dottore pushing the door open to reveal his (barely used) bedroom. Tossing his coat aside and placing his mask on his nightstand, he loosens his button-down shirt and sits on his bed, looking at you with a raised brow.

“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day?” he asks with the slightest bit of amusement, kicking off his shoes and repositioning himself to lay down on the bed properly. You snap out of it and shake your head, closing the door behind you, jumping in next to him happily. Your bodies fit with one another perfectly, his arms snaking themselves around your waist while you hold him around his shoulders, keeping one free hand to stroke his icy locks. He hums contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Happy?” he asks, voice muffled from how close his face is to your chest. Your nails gently scratch his scalp, drawing out a soft sigh from the doctor.

“Very,” you say, smile audible in your tone of voice. Dottore simply hums in response, basking in the comfort of the warmth of your body against him. Part of you felt the need to ask him how long he wanted to stay like this knowing that the doctor hated being away from his lab but, feeling a bit selfish, you allow yourself to revel in the small victory that came in the form of finally convincing Dottore to let you have him all to yourself for a portion of his day. The both of you drift off peacefully, knowing perfectly well that you’re going to repeat this dance once more in the morning when the Harbinger has to work.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore fluff #dottore x gn reader

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intoxicated-chan · 5 months

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

Summary ➳ Things go awry at camp and everyone heads to the CDC, Shane tries to let go of his suspicious but he becomes angrier.

(A/n) ➳ Flirting and writing creative insults are difficult, another thing to add to my list… I ended up making a MAJOR time jump, I’m sorry!

Word Count ➳ 2.3k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, blowjob, TWD violence, panic attack, heavy profanity, mentions of animal’s death, violence, blood, alcohol use…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“C’mon.” Daryl grunted, pushing you head further down his cock. He was sitting on the closest rock while your knees dug into the rocky dirt, painfully poking your knees. You just hoped that they wouldn’t leave bruises.

His hand kept a grip on your hair, your jaw went slack and you allowed him to have complete control. He yanked you off him, and he snickered at your state.

Swollen lips and coated in saliva, your cheeks redden with streaks of dried tears. “Ya gotta help me, unless you want that bastard catching you.”

“Okay, okay.” You spoke, voice hoarse.

He pulled you back down to his cock, welcoming him into your hot mouth. Your eyes shut immediately, your tongue swirled around him, you hollowed your cheeks and attempted to take him further down your throat.

“Lookin’ pretty.” Daryl let out a groan, throwing his head back as his mouth opened, letting out an airy moan. “Takin’ me so well.”

As you worked with him in your mouth, you focused on what made him react the most. You gagged each time when the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You were eager, desperate for more and more, moaning around his cock, adding more sensation.

The tip of Daryl’s ears are red, grunting in between his teeth, he was struggling to contain his moans.

Suddenly, you were tugged off his cock. Your eyes open in surprise, and you see him jerking himself off in front of you.

He pulled your head further back, forcing you to stick out your chest towards him. “Wait Daryl-”

He cursed like before, his cum spitting out all over your chest and shirt… Your shirt! You remain angrily silent as he pumped himself a couple of more times before stopping.

Daryl slightly leaned back, panting for air as he eyed you with a smirk. “Lookin’ quite pretty.” He commented.

“Gonna make me walk back to came lookin’ like this?” You asked him, pulling at your shirt and feeling it stick to your skin.

Daryl tucked himself back into his pants and his shit eating grin did fall. “Ashamed?”

“No. I just rather not have Shane up my ass about it.” You sighed, standing to your feet and dusting off your knees and back of the dirt.

Daryl picked up his crossbow. “Head on, I’ll see ya back at camp.”

Everyone surrounded the campfire as the freshly caught and cooked fish was passed around. Laughter and bickering filled the air, taking their mind off all the worries, even if it was just for a moment.

You sat in the folding chair next to Shane, poking at your food as it was awkward for you and Shane. You wanted to sit next to Amy or Andrea but Shane convinced you to at least sit next to him.

You avoided eye contact with him, still feeling hurt.

You saw from the corner of your eye, Shane placing his plate down on his lap and sighing. “(Y/n), ‘bout earlier-”

“Save it.”

“I should’ve not said that. I was jus’ worried.” Yet he continued. “Especially ‘bout the dog, I know you loved him.”

“That don’t give you the right to treat me like a teenager.” You picked at the fish, tearing it into smaller pieces. “He was a good boy, a good one.” Your voice shakes as your vision becomes blurred.

Shane’s hand comes around to your shoulder, pulling you to lay your head on his shoulder. “He was… I understand you want to believe in those guys, and I ain’t gonna stop my suspicions. We can’t afford to make mistakes.” Shane clicked his tongue, hesitating on his next words. “But I’ll try to tolerate ‘em for now.”

You looked at him, confusion written all over your face. “...You screwin’ with me?”

Shane laughed at your reaction, shaking his head and smiling. “I ain’t, I’m apologizin’.” It took you a moment before you looked back at the campfire and smiled as well. “I miss this.” Shane said as he rubbed your shoulder, using his other hand to eat his food.

Your appetite returned, but you attempted to sit up but Shane kept his grip on you. “You gonna let go?”

“Gotta accept my apology.”

“I gotta eat.”

“You’ll give in.”

“C’mon Shane!”

“Forgive me!”

Both of your laughter joins the chatter of the rest of them talking about Dale’s watch. It really brought back memories of before all of this happened.

“Alright, alright! I’ll forgive you-”

Amy screamed.

You jumped out of his gasped and looked in her direction, Walkers… More than you could in your now panicked state. They were coming from behind the R.V.

Everyone else began to scream as well, scrambling to get away from the fire.

“Shit!” You tripped on your own feet. “Fuck Shane!”

Shane dragged you a couple feet back, grabbing his shotgun and cocked it. “(Y/n) stay with Lori!” He stood in between you three and started shooting.

You pulled out your dagger, your eyes scanning all around you.

“Look out!” Lori cried out.

You dodged the lunge from the Walker, plunging your dagger directly into its skull. You kicked its body back and kept Lori and Carl close to you.

Lori held Carl tightly, he screamed and cried. You don’t blame him, you wanted to scream and cry too.

Gunshots rang all around you, screams and cries… You couldn’t focus at all.

It was all overwhelming.

The shotguns made your ears ring loudly, but you could still hear the screams loud as day. And those fighting without guns, fight with bats, smashing their heads in.

“(Y/n)!” Shane grabbed your arm as Lori and Carl remained behind him. “C’mon! Follow me!”

Once Shane released your arm to continue firing, you remained on Lori’s left, keeping your dagger up as Shane led you all to the R.V.

“Carol!”

“Stay close!”

“C’mon, y’all! Work your way up here!”

You grabbed an arm of another Walker and stabbed it in the head again, its body dropping to the ground with a wet thud.

You gagged, bringing your arm to attempt to block the disgusting smell of its rotting corpse.

“Right in front of you, Shane!”

Shane continued shooting down Walkers as you all got closer to the R.V.

“Get to the R.V.! Go!”

But now cornered to the R.V. You all had to face the group of them behind you.

“Morales, work up here!”

His shotgun now empty, Shane kept his arms in front of you, Lori and Carl. “Make your way to the Winnebago!”

More shots are heard, and you see the group that went to save Merle. They worked quickly to clean out the threats.

Daryl’s shotgun ran out of bullets, he used the butt of it to kill another.

Rick used his pistol as he too ran out. “Baby! Carl! Baby!” He repeated, falling to his knees as Carl ran to him.

Silence falls among everyone, except those who are still crying and clutching their families close to their chest.

You choked on your words as you reached out to Shane with bloody hands. You tried calling out for him but whimpers left your lips.

Shane, still filled with adrenaline, heard your sounds. His hands immediately on your shoulders, thinking of the worst.

“You hurt?!”

But seeing as the blood was only Walkers’ blood, he didn’t have to worry about you turning but trying to calm you down.

When your knees gave out, Shane was quick to support you, slowly sitting you down on the ground.

“I need you to breathe.” Hold your face in his hands. “Breathe for me, breathe.”

You started to become light headed, your breathing turning into rapid gasps. “I-I can’t-”

“We made it, we’re safe.” Shane felt helpless as he looked into your eyes, fear in them. “Everythin’s alright. We’re gonna be alright.”

You sat on your cot, looking down on your lap as the damp towel was thrown over your wet hair.

All you could think about was that night, you thought you were prepared for a surprise attack, but seeing them all up in your face, seeing them devour the living…

You couldn’t get it out of your head.

Imagine yourself as one of them…

It made your stomach churn, your throat go dry, and your body shake.

Nightmares, the nightmares from weeks before were of you turning or Shane… Sat on a chair, just listening to the horrid sounds.

“Hey.” You jolted, picking your head up to see Daryl with a plate of food in one hand, already sitting besides you. “Ya with me?”

You nodded, taking off the towel.

“Brought ya food.” He sat the plate on your lap, taking a swing from the bottle of wine he brought with him. “Notice ya didn’t eat anythin’.”

You took the fork and took a bite. It was delicious… But you chewed slowly and silently, unsure if you were going to vomit it all out.

“Ya gonna say anything’?”

Silence.

“Ya regret it? ‘Cause it startin’ to look like it.”

You shook your head.

“Then fuckin’ say it.”

You looked him in the eye. “I don’t regret a single thing with you, I never could.”

“Ya gonna finish eatin’?”

“I ain’t hungry.”

Daryl snatched the plate and dropped it on the group, he leaned into your neck and began planting kisses.

“Daryl-” Your hands come to his chest. “Are you drunk?” He grumbled something in response and you sighed, pushing him back. “You’re drunk.”

You took the wine from him and dropped it next to the plate, laying him down on the cot.

“C’mon.” He groaned, reaching for the wine.

“You had enough.” You giggled at his flushed face. “You gonna make it to your room?”

Daryl grumbled again, laying on his back, his head to the side. You laughed again, laying on his arm.

“I was serious. I loved it.” He hummed, closing his eyes. You shuffled closer to him. “Don’t believe me?”

“Shut up.”

“I-”

The door quickly opened, slamming on impact. “(Y/n)?” Shane said.

“Calm down Shane! Calm down!” Rick yelled, holding his best friend back, his arm around Shane’s neck.

“Daryl! Stop it!” T-Dog’s arms were hooked under Daryl’s arms.

Everyone was shouting over everyone, Lori stayed by your side confused and trying to get answers out of you. But you were more worried if Shane was going to end up killing Daryl.

It was like time froze when Shane came into your room, finding you lying next to Daryl… Then hell broke loose.

Shane was blinded by rage, his knuckles bloody as he was able to get a couple of hits on Daryl before he was pulled off.

“Imma kill you Dixon! You hear me!” Shane growled, trying to get out of Rick’s grip. Glenn wrapped his arms around Shane, worried and panicking. “I fuckin’ saw you touchin’ her!”

“Ain’t that fuckin’ sweet!” Daryl only laughed, ignoring everyone’s suggestions to shut up. “There’s more than jus’ touchin’!”

“Fuckin’ cut off your hands! Every fuckin’ piece of you! Feed you to the damn Walkers!”

Rick and Glenn started to drag Shane out and into a different room, Lori following behind him.

“Give me a sec.” You told Daryl, heading to Shane who was sitting down with Rick.

Rick placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you-”

“What the fuck was that?” You demanded to know, slapping Rick’s hand away. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“The hell did I say? I don’t trust him!”

“You don’t trust him and you can’t trust me?!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“I appreciate your fuckin’ concern, I ain’t a fuckin’ child let alone yours Shane! Short your shit out!”

The room became silent as you both glared at each other. Rick was ready to step in at any second.

“Okay-”

“Fine. do whatever the hell you want.” Shane stood abruptly. “See how that works for you.”

“Best fuckin’ believe Shane, I fuckin’ will!”

With that, You turned on your heel, storming out of the room.

“Gonna suck him off to make him feel better ‘bout himself?!”

Now back in your room, with your back against the door as you took deep breaths to calm down.

Daryl sat on your cot, trying to wipe the blood off his face with your towel. “...He always like that?” His eyes narrowed as he too was still angry.

“It’s not- Shane’s just… I-I don’t know anymore.” You fall to the ground, crying. “I don’t know what happened to him. He ain’t the same anymore, like he’s goin’ crazy.”

No longer able to come up with an excuse for Shane’s behavior change. You don’t know where or how it started…

“When the world goes to shit, shows a side of ‘em you ne’er expected.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. You then got up and walked to Daryl, grabbing the towel to clean the blood he missed.

“You sure know yer way ‘round fixin’ people up.”

A hint of a smile returned to your face. “Years of practice. Now hold still.” Dapping and swiping his face, you poked his nose. “Is it broken? Feelin’ better?”

“Fine. look (Y/n)-”

“Jus’ shut up.”

Before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. And Daryl’s rough hands gently cupped your face, your hands came to his wrist.

It was just the two of you and everything else disappeared. A kiss filled with frustration and passion, the tension still injured from earlier, but it soon vanished.

You both pulled away, your eyes meeting his. You had started to regret it until Daryl spoke.

“Ain’t that somethin’.”

You couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Yeah, it was.”

Taglist ➳ @easystreet07 , @daryldixmedown , @blackvelveteen1339 , @nosebleeds-247 ,

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cowboydisaster · 6 months

Text

* ˚ ✦ Compass * ˚ ✦

chapter one: La Belle Fleur Sauvage

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 7.9k

summary: modern au; Living out your dreams on a ranch in Colorado; Arthur finally proposes.

a/n: This is a little gift for @margowritesthings. I originally wrote this for you a year ago, but I've rewritten it for you for this christmas. xx

Arthur is nervous, his palms clammy as he pulls a Carharrt t-shirt over his head. The dark hardwood floor is cold against his bare feet as he slowly pulls his clothes on, layering up to defend against the harsh weather. You sleep comfortably in his bed, unaware of Arthur's absence from your side. He slowly approaches, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. You smile in your sleep.

"Gonna be a good day, darlin'.” He murmurs, pulling the white, fluffy blanket up over your shoulders before stepping out of the room, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

The coffee machine beeps twice, notifying Arthur that the morning pick me up is finished. Two mugs sit by the machine, as always. But today Arthur doesn't grab his usual, opting instead for a travel mug. It's an old one. One that he'd gotten from some random bank event a while ago, "Strauss Financing" it read.

He'd used that bank to get a loan for the house and the barn. God– nearly ten years ago now, Arthur realizes.

The coffee is black and hot, steaming as it's poured into the mug. Arthur leaves the pot on for you before opening the door, and whistling in the direction of the bedroom. He can hear Copper jumping down off the bed, and then he rounds the corner, trotting towards Arthur and out the door.

"Hey there boy!" Arthur laughs and gives Copper a few pats. He's had the old vizsla about as long as he's had the ranch. Copper follows Arthur outside, happily trotting after the man. Everything outside is coated in a dusting of white. It's the kind of snow that looks like diamonds, where ice clings to the trees and rooftops, but the sun shines down, making everything sparkle.

When Arthur gets about a hundred feet from the house, with Copper circling around him, he stops and turns around. The log cabin stands proud before him, even after all these years. Arthur had built the place with his bare hands, just him and Copper.

The Colorado mountains stand proud behind the house, hues of purple and blue painting their cliffs, the morning rays of sunlight reflecting off of the snow on their peaks. When he looks at the slowly aging wood of the house, and the warm glow of the porch lights he can't help but smile. It's not the house itself that he is so fond of, it is what you have made the house– a home.

When the walls were bare, and the house was empty, save for the few pieces of furniture that Arthur could afford, it was incredibly lonely. He tended to the animals and worked on the ranch all day to avoid sitting alone in the house. He spent his evenings at the only bar in town, Pearson's Pub, drinking to forget and to ignore the empty house.

Things got better once you moved to town, working as a bartender. You warmed the man's cold heart. You were like a breath of fresh air in this old town. You still are. You managed to take his frozen, barely beating heart and melt it in the grip of your soft hands.

Arthur began to chat with you while you worked. After only a few interactions, he started coming in on the days he knew you would be there.

Then, one day, he offered to cook you dinner, and you accepted. Now, you lie in his bed, cozy and happy while he plans for the future. Funny, how things work out like that. All those years when Arthur was young, he'd hoped for someone to love. As an adult, he was content with his solitude, until you came along, of course. Divine intervention, you are.

Copper barks, stomping his paws in the snow, pulling Arthurs attention back to the present. The poor dog is probably cold. The nip in the air makes Arthur's cheeks and nose red, and his breath lingers in the air like a morning fog.

The truck isn’t far, sitting halfway between the house and the barn. Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets, shaking some snow off of his hat as he makes his way towards the old rust bucket. Snow and ice fall from the door frame as Arthur swings it open, leaning in.

He reaches across the steering wheel, jamming the key into the dash and turning it. He mutters a small prayer when the engine starts to stutter and hiss, but after a few seconds, it turns over. Once the engine is running, Arthur turns the heat the entire way up, setting the knob towards the windshield.

“Should be right as rain, now, huh, boy?” Arthur smirks, stepping down from the truck, shutting the door. Copper barks, running into the wooden barn where Arthur is heading, stalking the chickens, as Arthur slides through the wooden door.

He shakes the snow off of his hat, boots clicking on the floor as he grabs a few scoops of feed and dumps them into each horse's trough. Arthur greets each one, scratching behind their ears, patting their necks. He feeds, avoiding stepping on loose hens, until he reaches Boadicea's stall. A warm smile graces Arthur's face at the sight of the old chestnut mare. She brightens up at the man's arrival, and not just because of the feed he carries. Her head tosses as she whinnies for him..

“There's my girl." Arthur hums, dumping the feed, soothed by the sound of her chewing. Arthur scratches the underside of Boadicea's jaw, earning a slight whinny from the older mare.

"S’a big day today, y'know." Arthur releases a shaky breath as he strokes the mare's neck. Boadicea lips at Arthur's jacket, searching for treats that he doesn't have.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

He huffs through his nostrils then, smiling as he pats the mare one last time.

"You're gonna be a part of it. I'm countin' on you, girl."

He then looks to the black quarter horse in the stall beside Boadicea. The horse has a star on his forehead, and a thick dark forelock that covers his eyes. When Arthur had gifted you the gelding, you'd named him Whiskey. It was both an homage to the bar where you met Arthur, and your preferred poison.

"Hey there boy. You better be good for the lady today, ya hear?"

He pats the horse who is hungrily lapping up his grain and then brings his wrist up to check his watch. The watch ticks quietly, showing the time as being 6:17am.

Arthur decides that the truck has had plenty long enough to heat up as he makes his way out of the barn, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. Copper has gone off, probably chasing birds in the woods, or attempting to play with the cattle. Once he's done playing he will come into the barn for shelter, at least until you wake up and let him back in.

Arthur's hands are tinted pink with cold as he opens the truck door, sliding in and shutting the cold out. The heat from inside the cab is nothing short of cathartic as it begins to thaw his frozen features, slowly melting away the ice and causing his nose to turn pale again.

Arthur turns the radio up a bit, driving down the long road towards the city. He tries to avoid Denver as much as possible. The tall, leering buildings are suffocating, reminding him of a very dark time in his life.

When Arthur's ma and pa died, he was placed into foster care. When he was twelve, he fought with the other kids, even beat a few nasty boys that were older than him. Arthur learned quickly that anger and aggression were the best ways to protect himself.

He ran from every foster home he was placed into, never having anywhere to go, just running. Arthur slept outside many nights, surrounded by vermin– both rats and people. He was spat on, cursed at, and kicked down by many of the people he encountered. It wasn't until he was fifteen that he found shelter- a home.

— — —

Arthur's feet pound against the pavement as he runs. The door remains open, swinging, as Arthur barrels down the driveway without shoes. The blacktop is rough on Arthur's feet, scraping and cutting into his heels as he scrambles, but he pushes through, determined to get away from the outskirts of Denver.

He follows the driveway until it meets gravel, avoiding it by running through the grass, into the forest. Tears stream down his cheeks, rough gasps for breath mixed with raspy sobs erupting from his chest.

Arthur bolts from yet another foster home– another abuser. He can barely see as the street lights get farther away, but he pushes on faster at the sounds of sirens. Sticks and rocks dig into the soles of his feet, but he continues, terrified.

In his hand, Arthur clutches a small bag, carrying the few things that remain of Arthur's childhood: his momma's ring, and a photo of her when she was young. His knuckles are white in their grip.

Horror trickles up his spine, sickness twisting his guts and making him sick. Tears prick at his eyes, threatening to send him to the ground

Did he just kill a man?

Disgust bubbles up in Arthur's throat as he searches around in the dark forest, looking for somewhere to hide for the night. Not far in the distance is a building with a light on outside, it appears to be a barn. Arthur tries not to think about anything as he stumbles towards the barn, feeling like he may collapse at any second. His arms are wrapped around himself, and he shivers as he parts the barn doors, stepping inside, sheltered from the cold winds.

A few animals grumble at the intrusion, but Arthur can barely hear them. His vision is blurry, breaths coming in quick pants as he trips. He makes it a few steps to a pile of hay, mind fuzzy and body cold. Arthur is exhausted and unable to breathe.

Suddenly his feet are falling away from him and he collapses. The impact is made softer by the pile of hay, but it still knocks the wind out of him. Arthur stares at his blood stained hands as they clutch his mother's things.

—

There is a shuffle. A door? Footsteps? They stop.

"My, my… What on earth do we have here?" A man says, his timbre deep enough to rattle the barn walls. Arthur's eyes flutter but he is not able to open them.

"Christ, Dutch– the poor boy's covered in blood, he can't be more than sixteen." A second voice chimes in.

Then Arthur is being hoisted into the air. He tries to fight, but slowly begins to lose consciousness again.

"Well take him inside, have Bessie and Annabelle fix him up… Once he's awake, we'll find out who he is, and.. what he needs."

— — —

Arthur thinks back on that time with distaste as his truck rumbles loudly through the crowded streets of Denver. Things got better after he found Dutch and Hosea. He stayed with them, working on their ranch for many, many years, and once he turned twenty-five the two gentlemen gifted him one hundred acres, enough to start a small ranch of his own.

Arthur sits at a red light, not far from his targeted destination. His fingertips tap the steering wheel impatiently as he thinks of that bag, his mothers contents inside. His stomach twists with anxiety. He hasn't been down this street in fifteen years. Muscle memory tightens his lungs as he pulls his truck along the street parking, brakes squealing before he pushes it into park.

Arthur sighs, eyes glancing up to the ornate, tall buildings before him. It makes his stomach turn. All this money poured into concrete structures when kids are starving in the streets.

He gets out the truck, straightening his shirt and jacket out of habit, before approaching the golden gate outside of the apartment building.

It's not long before he's in the elevator.

Arthur goes to knock on the ornate door, knuckles hesitating for a moment before rapping on the wood twice. It's the only barrier between him and the penthouse.

Arthur plans to make the trip as quick as possible. He’d vowed not to come here ever since the verbal assault had been thrown at him during an expensive dinner. He’d left in shambles, still young and naive. Arthur places his hands behind his back and pushes his shoulders back out of habit when the door swings open.

"Mary." Arthur acknowledges.

Her voice is soft, her southern accent spilling from her lips, "Arthur?” She seems worried, shocked. Her eyes scan him quickly, identifying that he's not hurt, “Is everything okay? Dutch? Hosea?"

"Yes Mary, everyone's fine."

Arthur takes note that Mary's father mustn't be home, and he instantly relaxes. His shoulders come down and his hands rest at his sides.

“Come in.” Mary says, opening the door, gesturing to the white couch in the middle of the living room.

Arthur hesitates at the door, but complies when she starts leading the way. Nothing has changed in all the years that he's avoided this place. The carpet feels the same as he walks across it. The couch dips under Arthur as it used to when he sits.

Mary sits on a chair across from him. The couch he's sitting on is far more comfortable than the one at home, but he prefers the quiet oak house compared to this busy modern apartment.

She looks to Arthur, her eyes curious. He hesitates, eyes unsure where to land– dancing between Mary's eyes and the floor.

"I-” He starts speaking and then stops a few times, before taking a breath, getting the words out, “I've met a woman…”

A pang hits Mary right in the chest, but she hides it well.

“Happened a few years ago." Arthur speaks low and quiet, his timbre is deep as he explains. Mary remains quiet and allows him to continue, eyes drifting towards the windows, mind caught up in memories that threatens to pull her under.

"She's a fine woman Mary, and… Well, I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Arthur looks up to Mary then, her dark eyes contrasting his own. She has a puzzled look on her face as she replies,

"Arthur, I'm happy for you, but I’m afraid I don't understand…? Did you come all this way just to tell me–”

“Mary…” Arthur whispers, cutting off her snowballing thoughts, redirecting her to the point that he is trying to get across without being harsh. Without demanding.

She stops in her tracks then, realization dawning upon her, “Oh. I see.” She smiles, bittersweet. Arthur can see the regret in her eyes. He is quick to ease the tension, leaning forward, trying to soothe the old wounds that Mary has yet to heal.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I am– that things didn't work out between you and I, but– it means a lot to me, and there's no other-”

Arthur is stopped in his tracks as Mary raises her hand to stop him, “It belongs to you, Arthur. She should have it, really.” Mary smiles sincerely.

She loves Arthur, though she'll never admit it. She loves him enough to let him go, to let him be loved by someone he deserves. Mary doesn't know you, but she knows that since he came here, for this– you must be deserving of his love.

Mary places her pale hand up, signaling Arthur to wait as she stands and disappears into the doorway towards her room.

Arthur fiddles with his hands, emotion bubbling up as he waits. This is the final obstacle. Once he has his this item back he will be able to give you what you deserve, and if you accept, Arthur will be the happiest man alive.

Mary rounds the corner, her lips pulling into a bittersweet smile, a few tears dripping down her cheeks. There is a small black box in her hand, extended out to Arthur.

His green eyes transfix on the box. The one he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years. Arthur places his hands on his knees to push himself off of the couch, staring in disbelief at the old thing.

It is carefully placed in his hands, and he slowly creaks the lid open, staring. It's a gold band, with a ruby placed in the center, and intricately placed diamonds on either side of the gemstone. It’s the one thing he has that ties the man he is now, to the happy young boy he used to be- when he was good. It was his momma's. One of the only things he has left of her. Arthur closes the box, tucking it away into his pocket.

“Best of luck to you, Arthur.” Mary whispers, a sad smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Mary.”

The ride home is quiet, for the first half anyway. As soon as Arthur is out of the city, back on dirt roads, he switches the old truck stereo on. A familiar song is playing, one that's been bringing him quite a bit of comfort in the past weeks.

“Now I know the only compass that I need”

He smiles. One of his hands rests on the steering wheel, the other rests on his jean pocket. He palms at the box as he drives, making sure it doesn’t slip away.

“Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

His voice is deep, rumbling in his chest as he taps his left foot against the floorboards of his truck. He thinks of you, riding your horse, smiling, of your hair in a messy bun and you in his too-big t-shirts. He thinks of how you love him, with a passion and a fervor.

“Now I know the only compass that I need Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

He thinks of when you met for the first time, your fates tying together in ways you never could have imagined.

— — —

Arthur enters the old bar, same as he does most every night. It's the same bar he's been going to for fifteen years now. Contrary to some of the other fools here, he doesn’t always drink when he comes here. Sometimes, he just sits at one of the tables, drawing the scenery.

Arthur comes here to drown out the silence of the house, to get away from the loneliness that he refuses to admit is swallowing him whole.

Tonight, he walks around the tables that adorn the small place, straight up to the bar, sitting down in his usual seat. The place is busy tonight. Arthur assumes there's a game being played, or a rodeo on the tv, but he doesn’t ask. Plenty of patrons sit around the bar, most with women or men in their clutches. Laughter and the sound of glasses being slammed on the bar fill the air, and a neon light flickers on the wall.

Arthur is all too aware of the familiar atmosphere around him, and yet somehow, he misses the new bartender serving tonight. Typically Pearson himself is behind the bar, but tonight someone else is handing out drinks.

Arthur knocks on the bar once, eyes watching the TV in front of him, a bulldogging competition. Suddenly, a form slides in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He adverts his attention to the person blocking his view, and his eyes go wide.

You stand in front of him, smiling and whipping a bar towel over your shoulder.

“What can I get for you, mister?” You ask, wiping your hands against each other.

Your eyes twinkle like they're among stars, and Arthur is sure that he’s never seen a smile so bright. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, basking in your beauty. Your hair is not tied up, and it falls down, cascading over your shoulders.

Your black long sleeved shirt is tight, clinging to your figure, but Arthur is caught up in your eyes. He shakes his head lightly before responding.

“Yeah, uh… Sorry– just get me the strongest drink ya got. Make it neat.”

Arthur's typical order is a bourbon on ice, or a beer, but tonight he's going to need something stronger. Everyone knows everyone in this small town, but you're a new face, and Arthur can already feel the singe of the hot brand, burning you into his memory.

“Coming right up.” You raise a curious eyebrow, wondering about this man’s choice of drink. With your interest piqued, you grab a rocks glass and a bottle of patrón, pouring a few fingers of golden liquid into the glass, sliding it across the bar.

“Have one for ya’self too.” Arthur tosses a bundle of cash onto the bar.

“Thank you, mister.” You smile, pouring yourself the same drink.

You eye the mysterious cowboy curiously, noticing the softness hidden behind his rough features. He is attractive, very attractive, with dirty blonde hair, and a five o’clock shadow that exaggerates the scars on his lip and chin. His eyes are hidden from you by a dark cowboy hat, until he peers up and you are met with the most strikingly beautiful, bright, blue-green eyes you've ever seen.

You have to look down to hide the blush that creeps up on your cheeks from being caught in the act of staring. If he notices your gaze, he doesn’t say anything. Both of your crystal glasses are set on the bar as you lean onto it with your elbows.

“You ain't from around here, are ya?” Arthur asks. You smirk. The ruckus from the bar seems to die down in your ears. Even your busy mind quietens as you focus on the peculiar man before you.

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, “No, I'm not from here, just moved.”

Arthur hums, content. There's an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“How'd you know?” You ask, wondering what gave it away. What's making you an outsider? You moved here to get away, to blend in. Anxiety curls in your stomach at the thought of being found.

“Well, miss, you’re far kinder, n’ far prettier than anyone in this old town… Don't help that everyone knows everyone here. We don't come by new faces much.”

Your anxiety quells, cheeks blushing a deep crimson, and after a moment, you raise your glass slightly, angling it towards his.

“Well thank you kindly, mister.” You hum.

“Arthur.” He corrects, clinking his glass against yours, swallowing down a swig of the burning liquid. You cock your head, not tracking at first.

“My name's Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He reiterates, and you smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur Morgan.”

— — —

Your eyes flutter open slowly. The first thing that meets your eyes is the vase of purple flowers on your bedside table. The morning light hits them beautifully, reflecting off of their vase, refracting on the deep purple petals.

A wave of realization dawns over you.

Sunlight? What time is it??

You sit straight up in bed, eyes immediately seeking the alarm clock on Arthur’s nightstand. It reads 9:25am and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit!” You curse, swinging your legs out of bed, body barely covered by your cotton shorts and cami.

You feed the horses at 6am every day. Today your alarm mustn't have gone off. You feel terribly, knowing that the horses must be starving. You frown, hair messily falling around your shoulders as you hurry to your dresser.

A piece of paper sits on the mahogany, and you hesitate in your rush, placing your pointer finger on the paper and reading its contents.

Fed the horses so you could sleep in. I had to run into town real quick. Should be back before lunch. Call if ya need anything, Sweetheart. Coffee is hot in the pot for you and Copper is outside. - A

The panic leaves your chest, replaced with warmth as you pocket the note, pulling your slippers on as you move towards the kitchen.

Arthur is always doing this for you, taking on little tasks to remove some weight from your shoulders. Doing anything he can to ease your troubles. He knows that you've been crazy busy with work lately, as horse training always picks up in the winter, and he's been doing everything he can to help.

You hum a tune as you round the corner, hand trailing along the smooth oak wall. Your slippers are soft and quiet against the floor as you enter the kitchen, eyes trained to where the black coffee pot rests on the counter top.

You grab your clay mug, the one you'd made back when you were taking pottery classes, and you fill it with black coffee and a splash of cream.

Wrapping one arm around your torso, you move to the glass french doors in the kitchen, overlooking the barn and the pastures. You sip at your coffee, eyes slipping closed as the coffee wakes you up, the warm liquid heating down your cold bones. Your eyes trail over your farm, the brown and black cattle, starkly contrasting the snow. Snowflakes flutter past the glass as you watch the sun peeking behind a few pine trees in the yard.

Copper runs through one of the pastures, throwing a stick up into the air and then grabbing it in his maw. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips.

You head back towards your room, pulling out a pair of jeans. They hug your hips and waist, but leave room for your boots to lay under your pants at the hem. You pull on a long sleeved black shirt and your beige ranch coat before leaving your room and pulling your boots over your socks.

With one last swig, you finish the last sip of your coffee and set it in the otherwise empty sink before opening the glass door and stepping out into the elements.

You expect the cold to wind-whip your face, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sun shines down, adding some resistance to the cold weather. It causes the snow and ice to sparkle like diamonds as your boots crunch through the snow.

You push the barn door aside, heart humming at the warm sound of nickering horses.

“Alright. Who's up first?” You hum, looking to the chalkboard on the wall. It's outlined with feeding schedules, medication times and dosages, and your training schedule.

You find the designated box for today, seeing that today you'll be getting your work cut out for you. You're working with Doob, a seal brown thoroughbred, off the track, with more energy than he knows what to do with. His owners had brought him in for a bucking problem, one that you're already beginning to curb.

You make your way down the aisle until you find his stall, promptly grabbing his dark green halter and slipping it over his head.

“C'mon, boy.” You whisper, petting behind his ears, “You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?” You chuckle as he nuzzles your palm. Of all the client horses, he's definitely carved a home in your heart. He’s a funny little horse, a character. You'll be a bit sad to send him back when you’re finished, but you know his owners will treat him right.

A short walk through the snow leads you both to the round pen. You leave him loose in the small pen, and he immediately starts running.

“Yeah, here we go.” You hum, cold biting your nose. You grab a green lasso from the fence post, moving him up with it, pushing him forward as he runs around the pen.

“Good boy.” You call, “Easy does it.”

Doob gets his energy out, running to his heart's content, wind flying through his long black mane. You just let him run, only correcting when he tosses a buck or kicks. After a long while of working, he eventually becomes tired out.

“That's a good boy, whoa now.” You cue, and he stops on a dime, turning towards you, walking into the center of the circle. Your head turns at the sound of a rumbling truck, and your eyes brighten at the familiar sight of Arthur coming down the lane.

“Good job, Doob. That's all for today. You go on and play now.” You smile, handing a treat out to the thoroughbred. He takes it happily before you remove his halter, letting him out into the pasture with the other client horses. He'll surely run off more steam out there.

A few snowflakes are stuck in your hair, and your nose is already turning red as Arthur steps down from his truck. You make your way to him, ignoring the chill in your bones, and leaning towards the warmth before you.

“Hey, baby.” You smile as he turns to you, shutting the door to his truck. Arthur smiles back, his hands extending as he grabs your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are cold compared to his, and he runs his hand up and down your arms to warm you up.

“Shit darlin’, you’re froze. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to go for a ride but-”

His eyes go wide as you jump a little, gripping at his coat with your cold hands, interrupting him.

“No, I wanna go for a ride! I'm not too cold, I've got more clothes in the barn.”

He chuckles, his warm breath creating a fog in the air as he hugs you tightly. You've never turned down a trail ride, not in all the time you've known him.

“Alright, why don’t you start tackin’ up the horses. I gotta run in the house quick. I'll grab some food too. We can have a picnic.” His deep voice rumbles against your ear as he holds you in his embrace.

“Okay, I'll grab the horses. Oh- grab the chocolate, okay? The good kind. There's some in the cupboard above the sink.”

Arthur chuckles, “Sure thing, darlin’.”

You go to pull away from Arthur, but before you're fully released from his grasp, he gently pulls you back by the chin, catching you in another kiss. He hums against your lips, and you relax into him, allowing him into your mouth. He chases after the taste of you.

After a few seconds, another light peck– or two– you pull away from each other. When your eyes slowly flutter upwards, you see intense emotion in Arthur's eyes. Love.

Arthur loves you, and he always makes sure to display it, but he's being extra affectionate today, which has your eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you chuckle, hands resting on the thick blue fabric of his wool coat. You look up at him with those sparkling eyes, and he falls in love with you all over again. The snow has made your nose pink and cold, and Arthur leans down to kiss it.

“Cause I love you,” Arthur pulls away, “Now, go tack up those horses. I'll grab us a snack.” you peel away from him then, shaking your head.

One whistle for Copper, and the orange flash is running down from the pasture. Then, he's at your feet, whining happily. The snow crunches and creaks against your boots as you lean to pet the dog, and you both look at Arthur’s back as he opens the door to the house.

“Your daddy’s actin’ weird today.” You whisper, curiously eyeing the blue coat that moves through the door. Copper barks, as if he is trying to explain, but Arthur had sworn the dog to secrecy.

You pet Copper before standing up and brushing the snow off of your knees. When you step into the barn,you’re immediately surrounded by the soothing smell of oats and hay. The warm scents envelop you, and wrap you up like the warmth of the barn.

By the time you have both Boadicea and Whiskey fully tacked up, Arthur is walking through the front barn doors. He pushes the door open wide enough for your horses to step through.

“So where are we ridin’ to today? Maybe we could trail down to the creek? It's beautiful this time of year.” You ask, pulling yourself up into the saddle. The cold leather sends a chill down your spine as you rub at your thigh in an attempt to make warmth.

Arthur shakes his head lightly as he climbs up into the saddle, “Actually I was thinkin’ we’d go on up to the overlook today…”

The overlook? You hum. Typically you and Arthur only go to the overlook for special occasions. The last time you'd gone up there was about a year ago. It's a special place.

You both had said your first admissions of love there, let the words pour down into the plains below. Your first kiss with Arthur was at the overlook.

But the overlook doesn’t just house good memories. You and Arthur had split up, briefly, a few years ago. The separation took place there. It’s a place of much love and heartache, it's you and Arthur’s spot.

“Okay, sure… It’s been quite a while since we’ve been up there.” You respond quietly, curiously. Anxiety swirls in your stomach, but you push it down.

You and Arthur trot beside one another, carried by your mounts. The air is chilly, but your heart is toasty warm as you and Arthur chat, laughing and smiling as you go. The ride to Horseshoe Overlook is a long one, and you make the most of the time as you and Arthur ride through the bright snow.

“I'll race ya cross’ this hill up here.” Arthur drawls, his lips ticking up in a smile as he looks at you from under the brim of his hat.

You eye the hill in front of you. It's open, probably over one hundred yards. The snow isn’t deep over the grass and it doesn’t appear to be slippery. Adrenaline seeps through your veins as you eye it, swirling and pumping through your heart, flicking the hairs on your neck up like static electricity.

“Alright then…” You adjust yourself on Whiskey, preparing to run.

“Get ready…get set–” You are cut off as the wind whips your hair and Boadicea starts charging forward. Your jaw drops and you watch Arthur barrel ahead of you. Quickly, you spur Whiskey and kiss and cluck to move him forward.

“You cheated!!” You scream loudly, trumping the sound of pounding hooves.

Determination sets in your bones then, and you lean forward, spurring the horse forward with every ounce of might in your body. Whiskey shoots forward until he is running side by side with Arthur’s mare.

“I don't play dirty, mister!” You yell in Arthur’s direction. Hooves are pounding loudly against the snow. The two horses are breathing heavily, each determined to win their own races. You see Arthur laugh, but he stops when you spur Whiskey, charging forward.

Arthur curses as you shoot ahead of him and Bo. Whiskey's hooves kick up snow as he passes, sending it flying into Arthur's face. It slows him down, giving you the advantage.

You and Whiskey run hard until you reach the top of the hill, and Whiskey slides into a deep stop right before reaching the tree line. After ten seconds, Arthur and Boadicea are at the top as well, stopping hard and breathing heavily.

“Dammit woman, you can ride, I'll give ya that.” Arthur pants, face wind-whipped as you ride up beside him and lean over your saddle to kiss him.

His lips are cold, as are yours, but the kiss is still alight with warmth. You grip onto the collar of his shirt, not releasing when your lips pull away from one another. If anything, your grip tightens on his collar as you eye him.

“I know.” You smirk, winking at Arthur as you pull away and canter your horse away from him, and towards the entrance to the overhang.

He watches you canter on, shaking his head.

“You are somethin’.” He jests, trotting after you.

When the trees break, you nearly gasp. Though you have been here a handful of times, it always steals your breath away. You can see the house and barn in the distance, separated from you by miles and miles of white snow. Evergreens stand tall, dusted white, with a few herds of elk at their trunks. You can see for miles, past the house and to the tall blue mountains far in the distance.

“So beautiful.” You murmur, eyes bright with wonder.

“Sure is…” Arthur whispers, eyes not on the landscape, but on you.

You hop down from Whiskey, patting him for his good work, and offering him the same treats that you'd offered Doob earlier. You always keep a few extra in your pocket.

You walk towards the cliff, keeping a safe distance from the drop. Your eyes flutter over the rolling hills and plains before you. Everything seems so quiet up here. Troubles seem so far away. Unique snowflakes slowly drop from the sky, dusting your hair and coat with white diamonds.

Boots crunch in the snow behind you, stopping just a foot from your back. You smile, but don't turn around when Arthur's chest presses against your back. One of his hands wraps around your middle while the other, unbeknownst to you, rests on the small black box in his coat pocket.

The serenity of the overlook envelopes your senses as you breathe in deeply. The cold air carries notes of pine and sap, familiar scents that comfort you.

“Love you, y'know.” Arthur hums, leaning down, pulling your hair away from your neck, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you turn in his embrace, chest to chest.

“You’re actin’ strange, Arthur. Are you feelin’ okay?” You chuckle.

Arthur exhales sharply, otherwise ignoring your question. Instead, he pulls you up onto your tiptoes, your boots on top of his as he kisses you.

You melt under his touch, kissing Arthur feels like your muscles relaxing after a long day’s work, like rain after a drought. Kissing Arthur feels like coming home. He's been kissing you all day, unable to pull himself away from you.

You pull away only for a quick breath before your lips meet again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, straining on your toes to remain in contact with his lips. Arthur pulls away with a bite to your lip, smiling when he sees how yours are plump and swollen.

The wind brushes Arthur’s hair into his face as he backs up, pulling you by your hand. He has placed a thick wool blanket on the snow for you two to sit on. You plop down on the blanket beside Arthur, your head resting on his shoulder. Your head rests on his shoulder. Heat radiates from the man, and you are glad for the extra protection from the cold.

“So what snacks did you bring, baby?” you ask, curiously peaking into the bag that Arthur has laid on the blanket.

“Alcohol.” He says plainly. You laugh, smacking Arthur in the arm as he chuckles.

“And your chocolates.”

“Arthur!” You chide as he hands you a bottle of golden liquid. You peer at the label.

It's patrón. You quirk a brow at the drink of choice. Arthur rarely buys the expensive tequila. Curiously, you pull the round cork out from the neck of the bottle and take a small swig. The alcohol burns its way down your throat, warming you from the inside.

You don't mind the burn, watching as a pair of pronghorn bucks fight in the hills below you. Their hooves slip in the snow as they each attempt to win their battle. Your hands numbly grip the neck of the bottle as you pass it back to Arthur.

You huff before you speak, “I can’t believe we’re here Arthur. After everything we’ve been through we can just… live now…” You pull your knees up, curling more into his chest. Your past hangs over you, haunting you like a dark cloud. Bit by bit, Arthur has been helping you to push it away, to heal and move on. Today is a good reminder of that progress.

His hands place the tequila in yours, and you down a swig.

“S’ like your readin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

You smile up at Arthur then, placing your hand on his stubble.

“Y’know this is the first place you told me you loved me…” Arthur says, low and quiet. You smile, the good memories filling your heart as Arthur continues,

“Also the first place I kissed ya… a lot ‘a memories up here.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, your brain is flooded with warm memories of Arthur and you in the overlook.

“C'mere.” Arthur whispers, smiling, taking a shaky breath. Your eyebrows furrow together. but as he stands and extends his hand, you take it. Arthur pulls you up, hands in his own.

The overlook is beautiful in front of you, serene and perfect. A moment he'd capture with a camera if he had one with. Whiskey and Boadicea watch on from the treeline, ears perked up. They know what's about to happen. Arthur's been telling them about it every day for months.

“I love you.” Arthur whispers, deep and serious. His eyes soften, and your heart begins to pump loudly in your ears. A delicious red flushes into your cheeks.

“I love you too, Arthur… but why are you.. what's going on?” Your voice is higher than usual, eyes sparkling bright with wonder, reflecting the sun and the white snow.

It isn’t unusual for Arthur to admit his feelings to you, but there are too many factors for this to be a coincidence. Arthur was ‘shopping in town’ all morning, but had come home empty handed. He brought you out to your special spot, bought you your favorite expensive tequila– and is treating you with such delicacy, and love, that butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Arthur huffs, letting out a humorous chuckle and looking up to the sky, projecting a short prayer, before he holds your hands a little tighter and begins.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He looks away from you for a split second, staring at the ground, before anchoring himself in your eyes again, and continuing, “I didn’t think my life was goin’ nowhere before I met you… I gave up in my twenties, said I wasn’t gettin’ attached to anyone.” Arthur admits, and you frown. You know about his past. You've talked about it, and now you're trying to show him how much he deserves to be loved.

“I stood by that for a long time…” Arthur's lips crack into a beautiful smile, a chuckle falling over them, “And then you stumbled along.” A single tear drips down his cheek, and landing in the snow below. Your eyes are threatening to overflow with tears of your own.

“Arthur…?” You whisper, voice cracking. He squeezes your hands reassuringly.

“You showed me what it felt like to be loved. And love ain't somethin’ I've felt in many a years.” Arthur pauses, gathering his words. A few tears trail down your cheeks, and Arthur’s thumb wipes them away.

“You make me want so much more outta life. You make me wanna wake up every day and work on this ranch, take care of these animals. You make me want a family. I wanna wake up n’ watch our kids playin’ from the window.”

“But what I want most in life? More than anything…?” A pause ensues, his loving, green eyes locked onto yours, “I want to be with you, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Arthur thinks back to the song he had been listening to earlier on the way home from the city.

“As long as my compass keeps pointin’ to you, I’ll be where I belong… I’ll be home.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes, and you gasp as Arthur reaches into his pocket, kneeling down on one knee in the snow.

He looks up at you, one hand still intertwined with yours, the other extending out the black box. Arthur snaps the ring box open, presenting a stunning gold ring to you. The band is adorned with a ruby, and several small diamonds decorate the sides of the gem. Your hands come up to your mouth, as Arthur looks up to you, smiling.

“This was my Momma's…” Arthur explains, and your eyes flicker down to his, “You’ve already made me the happiest man alive… and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you… So, would you do me the honor–” Arthur chokes up, “Would you marry me?”

He looks into your teary eyes, holding the ring box a little higher as he asks the question. You wipe the tears away from your eyes, sight locking onto the scene, wishing you could etch it into your memory forever.

Your head frantically nods, tears flowing down your cheeks as you cry tears of joy, “Yes, Oh, Arthur–of course. Yes, yes!”

Arthur smiles the brightest that you’ve ever seen, standing before you and slipping his mother’s ring onto your ring finger. The band fits you perfectly, and you marvel at it for a second before Arthur’s arms wrap around your waist. He lifts you up into the air, and you wrap your legs around his waist, laughing and crying, overcome with a happiness unlike any other. Your heart leaps with love and passion for the man in front of you.

His lips crash against your, wet tears dripping down your face as you kiss him. Your hands entangle into the hair at the back of Arthur’s neck as you both kiss, pulling apart only to breathe or to laugh. The kiss is deep, bodies singing with love, energy overflowing from the both of you. He keeps kissing you, over and over again, never wanting to leave the taste of your lips.

You pull apart, foreheads pressing against eachother's, his hands on your thighs, keeping you off the ground.

“I love you so much darlin’.”

“I love you too.” You whisper against him, the happiest you have ever been.

The ring rests on your finger as you kiss Arthur again, senselessly. The band of rubies and diamonds holds promises of a future, of a marriage and a life with him.

As the wind rustles through your hair, carrying your joy so far down the mountains that it can be felt radiating even miles away, you can’t think of anything you could ever want more than that promise.

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