#michigan cherry !

[bookofjudith]

Dark and red like a Michigan cherry

Dark and red as the Iliad sea

[welldigger62]

Some Garden Humor -

Should I be one, or be a pair,

That decision was up in the air.

These were picked last night from my garden. The one at the tip of my fingers couldn’t make up its mind how to grow and ended up looking like a pair of butt cheeks. One cherry tomato.

🤣

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part six

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

the songs in this chapter are: "scared of my guitar" by Olivia Rodrigo, "Michigan Cherry" by River Whyless, "Traveling Song" by Ryn Weaver, "Slim Pickins" by Sabrina Carpenter, and "Adore You - Acoustic" by Maisie Peters !!

a/n: ahhh hi it's my birthday! super excited to share this with you guys even though it isn't all that special or exciting but i'm just happy to be back :). last year for my birthday i posted in this life or the next and i wanted to finally get part 3 of that up today but that just wasn't going to happen BUT for everyone asking i am working on it. i swear. i'm not giving up on it!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

You thought that you might have heard somewhere that music is to the soul as opium is to a stubborn cough.

Or, maybe you dreamt that. Regardless, you knew for certain now that it was bullshit. But, with nowhere else to place your heartache, you found yourself sitting by a fire nearly every night with your guitar in your lap, humming soft words under your breath and plucking the strings as gently as you could.

It was for work, yes, but like opium, you had long since become addicted to the routine. Billy had too.

"You can play a little louder, y'know." He hums, tossing a broken twig into the campfire that separates you. "I was promised music in exchange for my services."

"And you get your music." You chuckle, hand pressed over the strings to stop their hum. "You haven't missed a show in almost two months, that ain't enough?"

"Sure, I'm just sayin' don't hold back your practice on my account. I'm happy to listen again." He answers with a soft smile, the yellow glow from the flames warming his features and bathing him in light.

You can't help the matching twitch of your lips to return his, feeling the slight burn in your cheeks that you can't confidently attribute to either the fire or your own blushing. "Well, it ain't much to listen to yet. Not finished."

"Ah, somethin' new?" Billy asks, leaning back on his palms and watching you expectantly as you give him a slight nod.

You're leaning over your guitar to scribble in that little notebook of yours, the pencil almost nothing more than a little nub in your hands and the pages of the book almost filled to the brim with words and notes. The temptation he faces every day to just grab it while you're sleeping or out away from the camp on a little walk has become an almost unbearable curiosity.

Because yes, he loves the songs you do sing, but what he wouldn't give to hear the ones you don't.

Billy would dive at any opportunity to see just a little more into your beautiful mind.

"Yeah, kinda." You hum in response, distracted again by the strings of your guitar effectively wrapping around your heart and your fingers and dragging your attention back to it.

"Okay, then, let me hear what you have so far."

You hate doing that, normally. You would hardly even play incomplete songs for your family when they were around- that awkward moment where you just have to trail off and go "Um, that's all I have..." and try to laugh but not too awkwardly was something painful.

But, this was Billy. Something about him compelled you to agree.

The problem was, the song you were currently meddling with the idea of may or may not be about him. You'd like to confirm with yourself that no, it is not about Billy, but damnit- he's the only person in your life. What else were you meant to write about?

You look down at the pages next to you, narrowed eyes reading over your own writing.

'Perfect, easy, so good to me. So why's there a pit in my gut, in the shape of you'-

Nope, nope, no. He's not hearing that.

You could deny all you wanted that the unfinished song was about him, try and claim to yourself that it was about Max- but deep down you knew the direction it was going.

You flick through the most recent pages, trying to spark your memory of something safer.

'Tart and sweet like a wild berry Tart and sweet your words to me Dark and red like a Michigan cherry Dark and red as the Iliad sea Here we lie in the deep night ready Here we lie, our skin is bare'-

That's definitely not going to work either. Your cheeks get somehow hotter and you clear your throat, flipping the page again.

Okay, this is much better.

"Like I said, it ain't done, so... not much to it yet, but..." You say, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes as you quickly scan the new page again and position your fingers over the guitar strings.

Billy gives you a steeled nod, sitting up a little straighter ready to listen as if he would be a judge of the quality of your music. It was a joke, you both knew it. He knew he couldn't come up with a critiquing word toward your music if he was held at gunpoint and forced to try.

"Nobody knows where they are going Oh, how we try to wrap our minds Over the edge of all our knowings Be it a bang or the divine Tip of my iceberg blues are showing I've never been one for goodbyes So, 'til I meet you there, I'm singing A traveling song to ease the ride And so you know, everywhere I roam I'll see you on the road."

Your voice is steady, focussed on getting it out rather than dwelling on the meaning of the words and Billy could tell.

"So farewell to my friend, He who taught me to love like a beast And to feast like the queen that he fed turtle soup Little boy from Paris to the States, check the facts That was Magical Max He was black sheep and mischief and love for his craft..."

His heart leaps at the little laugh that falls from your lips at the memory of your friend, your fingers slowing their strum to a steady halt. He doesn't expect you to continue, but you do, your smile quickly fading again back into an attempt at indifferent focus.

"Then he told me that I was starlights that shine On that very last day, he said "Shoot for your dreams, little girl, to the stars" Well, I'm taking you with me Now this one is ours and I know what you'd say you'd say "On with the show!" So on we go."

How embarrassing it is to almost cry singing a song that isn't done, for your best friend who would never live to hear it. Whose memory deserved to be shared. It wouldn't get very far if you couldn't even share it with one person; if you couldn't even stomach finishing it.

"Um, so... I'm not sure about chording for that last bit, or honestly the lyrics. I think it feels better without the guitar, but..." You say quickly, focussing yourself on your book and pretending to scribble something in it just so you wouldn't have to look at the boy sitting across the fire from you.

"I think it's perfect." Billy tells you, a softness to his tone you only had the pleasure of hearing once in a blue moon.

What he meant to say was that it's beautiful, that it's a flawlessly fitting tribute that he felt lucky to hear, that when sung by an angel's voice like yours he didn't doubt for a second that your friend Max had heard it from beyond the veil and loved it too. Even unfinished.

None of that was what came out though, essentially awestruck the way he always was at your shows- but this time he was able to actually speak to you after hearing it instead of just clapping, whistling, or if he was lucky, catching your gaze with a smile and a corny thumbs up that told you he thought you were doing great. Not that you needed it.

"Thanks." Your sweet voice replies, watching him for a moment you determine to be too long before your focus is back on the notebook next to you. "Anyway, um, if you want to hear something else unfinished, this one I think is going to be kind of funny."

"Show me what you've got, then."

Billy simply couldn't resist anymore.

Sitting absentmindedly on a hay bale in a barn where a local owner was gracious enough to let the two of you stay, that damned notebook seems to be glowing right in his face from the sunlight streaming through some bullet holes in the wood paneling that made up the side of the stable.

It's taunting him, he's sure of it.

This stare-down has been going on for about ten minutes since you left it out on the ground next to your guitar to go use the homeowner's washbasin to clean up when his wife offered- you weren't going to turn down a bath that wasn't in a creek.

That would probably take you a while though, you'd likely savour it, so he could just take a look. You'd sing him pretty much anything asked, and what could possibly be more vulnerable than that song you wrote about Max that you shared with him a couple of weeks ago? Surely you wouldn't mind all that much. On the off chance you ever found out. Which, of course, you wouldn't- because he would put it right back where it was after just skimming it.

It's not Billy's fault your handwriting just looks so pretty and you're a poet without publication privileges- it would just be a waste if no one ever read your pretty musings written oftentimes to no one.

And still, he convinces himself again, that you would never know.

He gets up and studies the book to make sure he could put it back down at the right angle before picking it up, hands gentler than they have ever been- like he was touching his mother's precious crystal vase, a wedding gift that had been long lost to time in several moves across the sea and then the country.

He opens the notebook and immediately he can see how you've grown since this book was first picked up by your delicate hands. How your print has changed from beginning to almost end, the pages all wrinkled from spills and humidity and time.

How lucky, he thinks, to be chosen by you for this journey of your life. Why does he feel so much camaraderie for a book?

He skims the pages, delighted to see that it isn't just full of words but drawings too; the sweetest most delicate doodles of little things like your guitar or a flower here and there squeezed in amongst the words on the pages. The amount of talent one young woman could possess astounded him, it's shocking that it doesn't drip out of your every pore in the very black ink that you use to write. 

He can't help smiling a little to himself as he reads the scrawled titles and lyrics to songs he recognizes and he can practically hear your beautiful voice singing every word he's already heard.

'A boy who's nice that breathes- I swear, he's nowhere to be seen.'

That was the funnier song you sang to him those odd weeks ago, and just remembering the small laugh that fell from your lips as you sang the words makes him chuckle too as he reads it.

You had told him you wrote it with Sarah, and he could tell- based on the two distinctive styles of handwriting squeezed onto the small page.

He begins to realize as he flips through the pages of the small tattered notebook resting in his lap, that you had been dating the pages. Finished songs had dates of beginning and completion going back a little over a year, and he figures this must not be the first one you've gone through.

Billy comes to the near back of the notebook, as much as he would love to spend all day reading every word you'd ever translated turning your life into poetry or ballads of melodic storytelling, he knew his time was limited.

One song in particular catches his attention, though.

'So high that I am floating, So good that I'm out of my head. So low baby I was hurting, you made it better again.

Oh, we got caught in a moment, and I'll lay with you all night. So good that now I'm hoping you'll hold me down for life.

I adore, I adore, I adore you.'

The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile as he reads the words, scribbled out and rewritten several times in some places.

It's unfinished, but dated to have been started a couple of weeks ago. He remembers you had asked him what the date was that day, and saw you write it down as he answered- your hair falling over your face and brushing your shoulders as it shielded the book from his view.

A couple weeks ago.

And the drawing- oh, how his heart flutters in his chest so quickly it feels like his ribs have transformed into a sparrow's cage.

To Billy, it looked like him. He knew he must be thinking crazy, after all, it had been a while since he had had a proper look in a mirror, but it sure felt like he was right now- down to the little feathers on his hat and the shape of his cupid's bow. You had given yourself away with the scope of your artistic faith.

"What are you doing?"

At the sound of your voice, slightly hesitant as you stand in the entrance to the barn, he slams the book shut and jumps just about a foot in the air; a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"N-nothing! I just, it just- um..." It was still clutched in his hands, already weary of parting with the precious object of your affections. "It, um... It fell, and I- I just picked it up, and-"

When he looks up at you, you look mildly horrified; cheeks burning the same way his are and eyes blown wide like you had been the one who was caught doing something wrong.

Neither of you move, both frozen on the spot, terrified of the next words that might fall from the lips of the other.

You weren't about to incriminate yourself by asking in a shaky voice if he had read or looked at any of it, knowing he did, and he wasn't going to ask if that song or any others he skimmed (and wish he took more care reading) were about him like he hoped they were.

After a moment of staring at each other like both of you were hostages with guns to your head respectively, you both decide to make the first move at the exact same time. He quickly holds the book out to you at the very moment you reach out to take it, and the awkward exchange makes you want to curl up under the hay bale you were meant to sleep on and rot there.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[hellssblog]

my new bike, 2018 Specialized Tarmac

[thoughtportal]

Michigan’s cherry growers are facing an unusually abysmal harvest turnout, starting with their sweet varieties and now also extending into the tarts. Experts say extreme weather variability caused by climate change is entirely to blame for this season’s spoiled cherry crops.

“I’ve talked with farmers that have been around for many years, and they’ve never quite seen something to this extent,” said Emily Miezio of Suttons Bay, a Leelanau County farmer who sits on the Michigan Cherry Committee and leads the national Cherry Marketing Institute. Miezio was joined by state officials Thursday in Traverse City to discuss the cherry season.

It’s apparently been one struggle after another all year.

[francixoxoxo]

MY MUTUALS POSTING BANGER FICS AND I CANT READ OH ILL KMS

[shepherdingthepie]

nothin like cherry pie for breakfast on a Thursday mornin

[zaftigpink]

[barbarellasmokes]

There’s a whiskey still in Brooklyn that I want to go to but I can’t bring alcohol on a cruise ship, I cannot fly with more then 3oz of liquid, it’s illegal to mail, and I cannot drink a full bottle in the two days I will be there. NEED SOLUTIONS PLS

[covrettcreative]

The Wings of Spring

Seen near Dundee, Michigan.

[welldigger62]

Meet my stubborn tomato plant

This is my 3rd tomato plant and is the slowest thing I ever have seen to cough up a tomato for me to eat. 😡

I have only got one or two off this thing for salads, now look at it. It’s going to give them to me all it once.

Ya can’t win sometimes 😐

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part five

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

a/n: okay so now we're getting into the good stuff and i'm so so excited!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

"Are you joking? Cheap bastard..." Billy grumbles as you step into the stables of a ranch on the outskirts of Silver City.

You had just played a show at the saloon here, voice a little tired and worn along with the rest of you as you prepare to settle in for the night. You hadn't played here before, but sometimes you just got set up with less than ideal accommodations- it was your trade, and you really didn't mind it.

You and Billy had fallen into a stable routine over the last few weeks, wandering city to city and asking both familiar and unfamiliar bar men if you could play there in exchange for nothing more than tips and a place to stay. Hey, it was a life Billy was familiar with. Despite the legality of your endeavours, you had a decent bit in common.

"Hm?" You hum quietly, digging out the cleaned out jar you'd been using for water, twisting the lid off as you glance up at him, sitting yourself down on a comfortable looking stack of hay.

Billy wasn't one to complain as look as he was sleeping somewhere safe, but you certainly deserved better than a hay stack in a stable. The smell of horses would linger in your hair until the next time you found a creek to bathe in.

"We can't sleep here, darlin'. It ain't comfortable. Hardly even safe." He says, bag slung over his shoulder as he gestures back toward the wide open door to the stables. Hell, he would rob these people of their horses if you weren't with him. They were practically begging the wrong crew to pass by and do it.

The nickname you had now become accustomed to hardly even makes you blush anymore as you take a sip out of the lukewarm water in the jar, letting the liquid sit in your mouth for a few moments as you look around at what he meant. You shrug before swallowing, feeling a bit more refreshed already. "It's just for a night or two. I've slept places worse."

You hold up your hand before he continues complaining, reaching into your bag, falling apart at the seams, and pulling out a small blanket that was in similar shape. You stand up to shake it out after closing and setting down your water, laying the blanket across the hay bale next to where you were sitting.

Billy recognized it, you had been using it as a pillow the entire time he'd been with you- rolling it up under your head regardless of the state of the pillows in the beds you were borrowing in spare bedrooms or vacant spaces at the inns covered kindly by the bar owners for the night.

"That tiny blanket ain't gonna do a thing to keep you warm once the chill sets in." He shakes his head and your expression drops, hardly even noticeable as you look between him and your blanket.

"I... well..." For the first time since he met you, you seem hesitant or almost embarrassed about something. "I just thought you'd rather lay on that then the hay, that's all. It can be kinda pokey."

Oh.

His heart sinks in his chest as he looks at you. You had laid it out for him, in hopes of keeping him a little more comfortable when you thought he clearly didn't like the idea of sleeping out here on the ground. It was the best you could offer, and it wasn't like you had many other options for the night.

Weeks ago you wouldn't even let him touch your guitar case; you still weren't very easily accepting of the idea.

"Hey, hey! I ain't gonna run with it, I'm just helpin' you out. Relax." Billy said with a laugh, lifting the case over his head, high up in the air and supporting the other end with his free hand while you jumped to try and grab it from him.

He found that little scowl on your face adorable.

"I can carry it!" You had insisted frustratedly, giving up on jumping for it when you realized that the best you could do is knock your precious guitar from his hands and send it tumbling to the ground.

Needless to say, you were quite possessive of your things, and the significance behind the gesture of you offering your blanket to him was not lost.

Billy shakes his head. "You ain't gotta give that to me. I appreciate it, that's real sweet, but you better save it for yourself..." He hesitates for a moment, eyes drifting to the blanket again. "I know it's special to ya."

You don't say anything in response, sheepishly nodding and grabbing the blanket again, with much less care than you had laid it down with. As if you were in a hurry to hide it away again, to bunch it up as a pillow instead of leave its ratty nature exposed.

"Pack up your stuff. We ain't sleepin' in this pig pen." Billy says, taking on a more cheerful tone and waving his hand for you to follow him to the door. "Come on."

"Huh? You got a better idea of where we can sleep?" You ask, blanket tucked under your arm as your brow mimics its wrinkled material in your confusion.

"I do, actually. Do ya trust me?"

Apparently the answer to that question is yes, and you only regret that decision a handful of times as he leads you and your stolen horses up a muddied, narrow, and undoubtedly dangerous path that leads to god knows where in what feels like the middle of nowhere.

"So... did you pre-dig a shallow grave for me out here or somethin'? I always knew you were planning to kill me." You hum, holding the reins of your horse behind your back as you lead it up the small and rocky trail.

Billy rolls his eyes, scoffing out a laugh that you can just make out from up ahead. "No," he chuckles, "I'm not going to kill you, darlin'."

"I am yet to hear a better explanation for why you're dragging me out to the middle of nowhere, but okay." You snide, but for the most part it was playful. You knew he wouldn't hurt you, well, hopefully. He had had plenty of similar opportunities in the previous weeks, so your guard was down just a little bit.

"Did I ever tell you I used to live here?" He asks, glancing back at you.

"Silver City?" You ask, more curious than teasing or annoyed now. "No, you didn't. I thought you were on the road too much for that."

"Well, yeah, but that was after I lived here for a few years." He explains with a small shrug you can hardly see with the distance of his horse separating you. "With my ma and my kid brother. They had to move here with her worthless fuck of a husband after he kept losing work, and we heard there was some out here."

He'd never spoken of his family before. At least not to you. At least not in the last several weeks in which time you had hardly been apart, and the honesty shocks you. It is very welcome, though.

"Oh... well... are they still here? In Silver City, I mean." You say, knowing that this should be carefully navigated if you wanted to hear more about his life in the future. If you wanted him to trust you.

"I don't know about Antrim, but my brother and my ma passed a long while ago. That's why I left, had nothing to stay here for anymore."

In the moonlight you can just make out his figure a little ways in front of you as he shrugs, as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he hadn't lost everything, lost his family. How could he not have told you before? In all these weeks he had been helping you in order to get back to your own family, he had never once mentioned that he lost his too.

"I'm so sorry," Is the best you can come up with, despite your own insistence those weeks before that apologies only make you feel worse. Make it more real- but what else were you to say? "For what it's worth."

"Hey," He chuckles, surprising you a bit. "It's worth somethin' to me."

It isn't long before you come to a clearing at the top of a hill, a steep cliff overlooking what you assume to be an old mining site picked right dry. But you don't pay much attention to that, quickly distracted by the view above you- the trees having opened up to the beautiful sky again.

Billy tied the reins of his horse to one of the thinner tree limbs, before dusting his hands off on his trousers as he walks back into the clearing fully to join you where you had stopped hard in your tracks. He gestures up to the sky as they spread out in a vast sheet of light and glittering wonder, their beauty unhindered by clouds or the tree line.

"See? I ain't gonna kill you. Ta-da, doll."

You're mesmerized, hardly hearing his words. "Heaven's a touch away." You whisper, and he hardly catches it as the reflection of the stars flicker in your already sparkling bright eyes.

His smile widened as your own did, and he nodded. Heaven's a touch away.

He would have said something else, but he was too busy being hypnotized by the way the moonlight reflected off your skin and made you glow like an angel.

Billy chuckled softly at how awed you were by the display, glancing up at the sky before looking over at you again.

For just a moment, he wanted to take you by the waist and bring you closer, to pull you against his body as you stared above your heads. He wanted to keep you warm and whisper sweet things in your ear as the stars shined down on you both.

But he held back. You weren't his to hold. Not yet.

"It's nice, ain't it?" He asks after a moment, averting his gaze finally from you and up at the stars you were oh so entranced with.

"Sure is." You agree quietly. "Feel's like I could reach out and touch 'em."

You look over at him after a moment, catching him taking his hat off so he could get a better look, sweeping his scruffy hair back away from his eyes. "How'd you find this place?" You ask after a moment.

He shrugs again, familiar. "Like I said, I lived down in town under the same roof as the worst man in the west. Needed somewhere to go."

You nod silently, looking up at the stars again. "Well, I'm glad you did. It's beautiful." You say with a small grin.

Billy hums in agreement. "I figured if we'd be spendin' the night out in the cold anyway, we might as well have some space and a nice view."

"This is why I prefer the west to the city." You say with a nod, placing your guitar case on the ground and sliding your bag off your shoulder to land on top of it. "Even on the highest roof you couldn't get a view like this."

You dig around in your bag for your blanket again, delicately laying it out on the ground for the two of you to lay on while you looked up at the stars until you fell asleep. You can't help imagining how much Max would have loved this. All the kids would have, but at least they could look up and see it again.

If Max were to open his eyes six feet under and look up, he'd be well lucky to see anything other than pure, peaceful darkness.

You lay down, and without a word, Billy does as well. He props up one knee and folds his hands behind his head, and you wonder if he's thinking the same thing about his family.

"Are you a religious man, Billy?" You ask after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, letting your head fall to the side to look at him.

"Used to be." He hums, still gazing up at the stars. "Was how I was raised, but I'll be honest, my beliefs on it are much the same as yours these days." He explains.

What kind of god could take two kids families from them like this?

"I don't blame you." You say quietly. But you do suppose that assuming there was a higher power, it was the very same one that stripped your family from you for a second time in your life, only to present you with a friend in William Bonney. Maybe that isn't the worst thing in the world.

"Or, I mean, they were for a while. I really don't know anymore." He muses. "I try not to think about it."

He didn't really have a lot left to believe in. Same as you. Not the god who killed everyone he had ever loved, not the justice system that's been chasing him down for a long while now, and not in himself to do the right things. You had him beat, in that regard. He could see it in every day spent with you. But is that not a blessing all in its own?

"No one does. I think that's kind of the idea." You reply with a slight laugh, wanting to lighten things up a little bit. "Y'know, tests of faith and all that."

"Fair." He agrees softly, looking over at you again finally and giving you a small grin.

"Although," You tilt your head slightly, looking up at the sparkling sky again. "Day in and day out, folks die and babies are born, there's great pain to be found on both ends of life. But if there's someone around to bring you in, and someone to miss you when you're gone, things couldn't have been too bad along the way." You ramble on a bit, deep in thought as you try to communicate a simplified version of what you were trying to convince yourself.

Billy was a little bit speechless for a moment, weighing the accuracy of your assessment. After a few seconds, he lets out a laugh. "I guess you're right, but I'm not sure I'll have many folks missin' me when I'm gone."

"I'd miss you." You reply quietly, with minimal hesitation. "If we parted ways tomorrow and I never saw you again, I'd remember the last few weeks fondly. It's nice to not be alone."

He isn't sure if it's hunger or what that makes his stomach turn and a tightness form in his chest. He's not positive he won't throw up right there on your blanket over the rush of feelings at the most simplest of words.

"Well, thanks." He says, laugh long faded as he looks up at the deep navy sky that felt so close that you thought you had a chance at touching it. "I'd miss you too."

You smile to yourself in contentment, shifting a bit to get more comfortable for the long night ahead of sleeping in the grass at the top of this hill familiar to only one of you.

Billy spares you another glance in the long silence that follows, unbothered by the chirping of crickets and the occasional shift of your horses hooves in the dirt a few feet away.

The stars were beautiful. This was a known fact.

But you were far more heavenly in his eyes.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[theyanderespecialist]

Michelle C Jones 🍒🥧🌸 Personification Of Michigan #hetalia #michigan #personification #persona #oc

Michelle Cherry Jones Is The Personification of Michigan, the younger Sister of Alfred F Jones and Matthew Williams. She became personified in the mid or late 1940s and she thrived in the 1950s. She loves everything cherries, cherry pie, cherry perfume, and cherry everything. She raises cherry trees on a little farm and LOVES To go to the Great Lakes! 

She has a pet Wolverine named Killer and raises Red Robins. She also has many whitetail deer that pass through her yard eating from her strawberry bushes.

[sleaterkinnie]

sorry i can't stop taking pictures of these cherries they are so pretty

[dracohoudini-blog]

Good morning everyone!!!! Thought I'd share an old painting I did in high-school for a local poster contest. I was 16 when I painted this.

It's an American Robin in a Cherry Orchard.

I submitted it to the Cherry Festival poster contest, but it did not win. Someone from out of the area who also illustrated a Robin in a Cherry orchard did.

I was told, mine didn't look professional enough.

Acrylic paints. 2006