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7-wonders · 4 years ago

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I wanted to write something soft about Duncan and baby names, so here’s this.

The sun is just beginning to set under the horizon, various shades of pinks and purples and blues and oranges streaking across the sky. You’re sitting on the porch swing that came with this small beach house that Duncan had rented, claiming that you both needed a vacation from the toxicity of the city. Here, in Duncan’s arms, you can’t say you disagree. It’s been a perfect week of relaxing and soaking up as much uninterrupted time with your lover as you can get. His skin is beautifully golden now from days spent in the sun, and the smell of the sea is constantly in your nose.

Glancing up at Duncan, you can see that he’s watching a young family out on the beach. The two kids are building a sandcastle, crafting windows and turrets as best as they can with their limited skills. Duncan wistfully sighs and you hide a smile, knowing what he’s going to say. It’s like a sixth sense; even though he hasn’t mentioned certain things, his body language is often a dead giveaway.

“I know we’ve talked about it briefly in the past, but...kids?” It’s not some big discussion between the two of you. You both know that you’re simply musing aloud about the many different futures you could possibly have.

You smile. “One day, yes.”

“You know, I’m not getting any younger, here.”

“That’s not my fault, mister!”

Duncan kisses the top of your head before leaning back so your head is laying on his shoulder. “Sometimes, I think about having kids, and I just get so excited at the thought of giving them all of the things that I never had. And I’m not talking about material items. I mean, love and affection from people who aren’t nannies.”

“And you’ll have that,” you promise.

“With you, I hope.”

“I mean, I certainly wouldn’t complain.” You stretch, shifting a hand behind you to stroke his cheek. “Who wouldn’t want to see you as a dad?”

“You think I’d be a good one?”

“The best.”

He’s silent for a moment, basking in the knowledge that the woman he loves wants to have kids with him. “Do you want boys or girls?”

“I don’t have a preference.”

“Oh, come on. People say that, but they always do have a preference.”

“Alright...I guess I’d prefer a girl, only because you’d be the best girl dad.”

A bemused smile plays at his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just the vibes you give off! Doing a little girl’s hair, dressing her in her sparkly outfits...” the mental image is almost too cute, and you have to stop yourself for fear of jumping on him right there. “What about you?”

“I’ve always seen myself as having a boy first, although you make having a girl sound really nice.”

“Ah, little Duncan Jr.?”

Duncan scoffs at the thought of it. “Never. I like something like...Max, maybe?”

“Mmm, maybe not Max. Henry?”

“Sounds too stuffy.”

“Atticus?”

“We are not naming our son after your favorite book characters,” Duncan says, much to your chagrin. “Alex might be nice.”

You ponder it. Although not your favorite, it sounds right. “I don’t hate that.”

Neither of you have noticed it, but Duncan’s hand has drifted to your lower abdomen, where he’s now rubbing circles over the soft skin with his thumb.

“And girls?”

“Rosie,” he says confidently. Expecting you to laugh, Duncan’s pleased when he hears you coo.

“Rosie Shepherd sounds so cute!”

He’s thoroughly beaming now, this common love of a name further solidifying his belief that you’re the woman who’s going to be the mother of his children. Still, there’s that doubt in his mind. “It doesn’t...scare you? The thought of having kids?”

“I mean, of course it does. Bringing this little person into the world who’s entirely dependent on you sounds fucking terrifying. But it also sounds like something that would be so rewarding.”

"You know, we could get started trying now...” Duncan says suggestively, moving your hair out of the way to kiss behind your ear.

“Maybe later, I’m comfy just sitting here with you,” you say to torture him, knowing full well that it’s only a matter of time before you allow him to lead you to the bedroom.

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd x you

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x-01 · 8 years ago

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feb 27 2017 - nov 3-5 2287

after hovering around the northwest section of the map for quite some time, atticus plans on making his way to diamond city, remaining as unseen as possible in the progress. he only wishes to keep an eye on the function of the city, see it for himself, observing passersby and keeping tabs. after being roped into piper’s scheme, he realizes that remaining unseen, in a bright blue jumpsuit at that, was highly unlikely, and he was foolish to think so. however, this encounter leads him into the middle of a strange happening.

he goes south from the wildwood cemetery after experiencing a peaceful sunset, hugging the waterline and avoiding covenant (god forbid, he walk in on another group of people. the minutemen drained the energy he’d been building for the past week or so since waking up and acclimating himself to his new and horrifying surroundings) until he reaches tucker bridge. it’s dark, he’s easily shrouded. this is how he loves to be, he now realizes. he will do anything to stay that way. though, upon finding a backlit lift, he can’t resist ascending to the top of a looming overpass, even if it does mean his life is on the line.

after making sure the area is clear, he calls dogmeat onto the lift and brings him up. he thinks, it might be best to visit the city first in daylight. while he prefers to hide in the shadows, nothing guarantees that others won’t be waiting there for him. he decides to sleep there, inside the skeleton of a pre-war shuttle bus, the soft green glow of diamond city (fenway park, as he remembers, not too far from his university or apartment) meeting his eyes before they finally close.

in the morning, he takes the lift down, tentatively crossing the tucker bridge. it reeks of gasoline, and soon after his crossing, he’s met with gunfire and a raider he has no choice but to stealthily stab with his switchblade and bolt. he runs into someone calling himself “the scribe” selling armor, but doesn’t buy, and sets off again. at this point, his plan is completely trashed - another group of raiders, along with their turret, find him, leaving him sprinting and panting around every corner in cambridge until he panics and, much to his dismay, splashes into the river.

he swims under the bridge, making sure to be cautious and picking up some of the household items he found stored underneath, until he reaches the other side of the river - just near fenway. he remembers taking the bus over this bridge, never thinking he’d have to cross the waters with his own body.

after hearing gunfire and sprinting again, he finds himself at the gates of fenway park - “diamond city” - with an eccentric woman yelling over an intercom to be let back in. a reporter - those still exist? - that wrote something a bit too controversial for the inhabitants of the park, so it seems. much to his dismay and surprise, she ropes him into her little plan to enter, and before he knows it, he’s speaking with the “mayor” and being asked his opinion on free speech. he reluctantly replies, trying to keep himself as low-profile as possible. this seems to upset the woman, piper, as she is called - but she still invites him for an interview later. great, he thinks. great entrance, great job at being inconspicuous. he furrows his brow and walks up the stairs into the park.

it’s absolutely overwhelming. the smells, the colors, the chaos. he overhears piper talking to a young girl (must be her sister the mayor spoke of, he thinks) about the broken printing press. the girl, nat, then waves him over, giving him the full briefing on what exactly is happening, why everyone is so paranoid about this “institute”. ah, the massachusetts institute of technology. the university he was too poor, too underqualified to attend. but why is it relevant now, supposedly 200 years after his attending college? were there academics left, why were there stories of “synths”, synthetic humans, bodysnatchers, on everyone’s lips? he knew artificial intelligence development was well underway, even in his early years, but he can’t imagine it’s come to the plot of every science fiction movie he’d seen as a young teen. he ended up shrugging it off, telling her, “i’ll be fine.” “i’ve heard that before” she says, as he walks away.

he spends the night on a secluded bench, towards the back wall of the “city”. this is ridiculous, he thinks. but they’ve found a way.. they’ve found a way to survive. he wonders if one day, society will have brought itself back to what it was when he was young, before all of this. he corrects himself - he’s still young. nineteen and thrown into a completely new environment. he laughs as he remembers writing “adaptable” on all of his job and internship applications. now, it’s really being put to the test. nothing revolving around the old sense of the word matters anymore. he wonders if he was ever deserving of using it as a descriptor. time will tell.

in the morning, he gives into piper’s offer. she’s the only person, even counting the head of the minutemen, that has appeared trustworthy to him. warm, kind. he wants to give into it, but restrains himself. no one can be trusted, especially at face value.

she’s smoking a cigarette meditatively, checking her printing press. she calls him blue (because of his vault suit, how clever, he thinks) and asks him questions about who he is, how he got here. upon learning his origin, she gawks, mumbling “the man out of time” under her breath. he likes that title, although it is much more grandiose than he thinks he deserves. if anything, he’s a nothing but a fish out of water, flopping helplessly until he finds his way back to where he came from. except he can’t. she asks him for a word of advice to the people of diamond city. he offers a simple statement, one that he perhaps needed to hear himself say as well. “you can only take it one day at a time. just keep going. it’s all anyone can ever do.”

#log

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