#what was i doing in this moment? lying down in the grass eating grapes and reading the nation on no map about Black anarchism and abolition

[sembulapeyalneerpol]

Went to the park to decompress and read today, look up into the sky and there is a person unfurling an American flag.

[daddy-chiluc]

My World is Alight by your Gaze

Chapter 1: Dandelion Dreams

Here you go for Non-Ao3 Readers! ^^

TW: Nightmares, blood, mentions of alcohol, depictions/eluding to trauma

—

His skin prickled, hairs rising under the chilling touch of the snow. He knew of this dream. He knew it far too well. A dream of vivid reds and beasts towering over him, his body small and worn out in its futile attempts to fight back. To resist. To resist the abyss that had plagued him, haunted and teased him. He was frustrated. Oh so painfully frustrated. He’s gone through this nightmare so often it’s become a broken record…why it still shook him with fear was beyond him…but he hated it.

The plaint wooden sword in his hands had given him splinters, the wood chipping under his tight grasp, as he slashed at the darkness that shrouded him, the snow doing little to support his momentum. His throat was sore as his tears froze to his cheeks, fingers numbing under the harsh bite of the cold. Crying seemed to stumble him far worse than any monster that had approached him. It confused him. Made him uneasy.

Snezhnaya does not believe in tears he reprimanded as he drowned his fear with the palms of his hands, thrashing and slicing at the darkness until it dissolved into the vast, pure white expanse of snow and trees. He repeated the mantra as a reminder, body shaky as a violent blizzard rushed at him, the wind howling in his ears. With chapped lips, bloodied and numb from the freezing winds, he wiped at his nose, the skin raw from it running. He had finally won. He could feel a gentle shake run through him, the wave of contact quickly growing in force as he darted awake.

“Tartaglia?” Right, Aether. Memories of yesterday’s adventure came rushing to him all too quickly. Flashes of water and blood tainting his mind, “Are you aright? You started to groan in your sleep.”

“Ah, apologies comrade,” he grunted, muscles and limbs sore from yesterday’s brief battle as his wounds began to sting under the bandages. The rest of Aether’s party — Beidou and Klee — began to stir awake at the smell of Aether’s perfected breakfast sandwiches. Had it not been for this reoccurring nightmare, he wouldn’t have a problem eating the Mondstadt delicacy as he had cooked them often, favoring the more comfortable taste over something more refined.

“As much as I appreciate you cooking breakfast, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” He sighed, getting up from the makeshift bed, the grass being the only cushioning he had over the night. His companions were a tad bit concerned, Klee far too enamored by a yellow butterfly and Beidou not caring for his predicament…after all, he had almost drowned her entire city with her girlfriend. It was only fair she despised him.

Aether simply nodded as he watched his eyes scan over Mondstadt, the cliff they had taken refuge on giving a beautiful view of the nation. The wind had blown by, twisting in his orange locks and dancing merrily along his lashes before a heavy exhale escaped past his lips. The sun started to cook him in his dark clothes, never truly able to get used to the heat even after having left Snezhnaya so long ago. Although, while the Tsaritsa had a certain, almost welcoming place in his heart, he couldn’t help be feel the wind calling to him, enticing him to something greater in the land of freedom.

Freedom. A concept somewhat blurry to him. Blue crystalline eyes growing duller as he tried to recall what it was like…but even the Abyss had taken that from him. Taken away the childish wonder and innocence at such a young age, becoming a savage for survival. Who knows, maybe he’d be fortunate enough to find that wonder in such joyous landscapes of summery green, the faintest smell of fresh grapes teasing his nose.

“I was thinking on taking you and Beidou to a really popular tavern this evening after we drop Klee off to Albedo,” Aether spoke calmly, Beidou perking up at the slightest promise of drinks.

“What kind of drinks?” She spoke swiftly, desperate for beer.

“Their wine is very popular, I’m sure you can ask the bartender for beer though.” His sincerity easing the tension in the party just a bit.

“I might try a glass of wine, see what Ningguang might like and take some back to her after our little crusade,” she chimed, voice still rough with sleep but just as energetic as she was yesterday after being invited to the trek from the land of contracts to the land of freedom.

“Tartaglia?”

“I might entertain it for tonight. Not much of a wine person but I could use a drink.” Maybe the discontentment in his voice gave away whatever had been egging his mind because he felt a small pull on his pant leg to find the little chaos bringer looking up at him with worry, “What’s up Fire Bug?” He smiled, picking her up and holding her over his hip.

“Is big brother Childe okay?” With dandelions fisted and bunched together in her hand, she chatted with him while Aether and Beidou finished packing to close their trip. Maybe his façade had faltered just a tad because her grip on his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

“Of course Ladybug, why wouldn’t I be?” He hummed as her eyes twinkled with delight, light red eyes glowing brilliantly under the sunlight as an idea came to mind. Delicately, she straightened out the green stems of the flowers in her hand before placing them all throughout his hair, taking time to move every strand and stem with practiced ease — as if she’s done this several times before. Satisfied with her work she grinned, innocent and wide as her eyes closed with her cheeks.

The memory of Childe’s nightmare had long since faded, not wanting this fragile moment to shatter in the rough, calloused palms of his hands. Being with the little firecracker had reminded him of Teucer. Instead of that heavy, sickening feeling of sadness that weighed him down, he imagined what would happen if Klee had met his siblings. He could see them playing in the fields of snow in Snezhnaya, making animals out of snow and snowball fights. Snow angels and snowmen. The cold, harsh empty land suddenly filled with excitement and a childish fun that had warmed the freezing exterior of his heart.

He imagined them rolling in hills and flats of Mondstadt, playing in the wind and dancing happily, uncaring of the Fatui and tyrants of the world. Uncaring of visions and fighting. To simply live in the moment and have fun. To have what he lost at such a young age. To not have to fight for their survival every waking moment. Yes, he’d conquer the world and follow the Tsaritsa to the end of time…but he wouldn’t hesitate to burn the Fatui to the ground. They’d fallen out of her perfect image. Betraying each other left and right. Lying and deceiving every waking moment. If not an enemy then they’d deceive and use a comrade. It was pathetic.

Yet, with Klee in his arms and her pyro vision keeping him warm, he felt alive. He felt happy, a lightness filling his chest as she beamed in his arms. Even if he couldn’t make friends he wouldn’t have a problem stopping by to spoil the little one with toys and gifts. He’d done so with his siblings, and even if she wasn’t of blood, it wouldn’t stop him from giving her sugar and letting her blow up an entire Fatui camp if she felt like it. He was willing to protect her if it was necessary.

“Thank you Klee.” He smiled, it wasn’t sly or mischievous. It hadn’t held any scheme behind the gentle pull of his lips. It was genuine. Filled with warmth and kindness. Klee accepted the gesture happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing with vigor, hat squished beneath his chin as they watched the birds fly across the morning sky.

Perhaps her eye had been hallucinating. It would prove to be a problem if it had. A man who nearly killed her partner and the entire city seemed to have a heart after all. Seeing the smile along his face and hold the child so gently made her question him. To Beidou, Childe was an odd figure. He was hard to read, far too many mixed signals to understand which was real and which was fake. After all, he was a Harbinger.

Some part of her however, decided to give him a chance, just for today that is. She wouldn’t let her guard down, but she chose to see what kind of man he actually was rather than letting a title define him. Actions speak far louder than words she told herself, and seeing him be so kind and gentle with the small child made her release a heavy sigh. She could give him a chance, but just for today.

On their journey to Mondstadt, Beidou studied him, watching as he carefully placed a flower back in his hair if one hung loose and carrying Klee on his shoulders the entire walk there, telling her stories and fairytales of all sorts, one of which sounded like Liyue history turned into a children’s tale with bombs for an added effect, keeping her interested. How he came up with such an idea so quickly almost baffled her; and he was supposed to be one of the most feared Harbingers? Maybe she was quick to judge him, but that wouldn’t allow him forgiveness for nearly drowning the harbor. That would take time. If he could explain why she may be able to tolerate him a little more at best.

Unless it’s bullshit. Beidou doesn’t tolerate bullshit. She especially lacks patience when she’s dealing with someone she so heavily detests. So trying to converse with the Harbinger would drive her mad, beyond a doubt. She really hopes this tavern had beer.

—

Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the next chapter!

[wann-der-lusst]

Those Stars

By: Euchelle Aranzanso

The sound of an approaching car. Orion, 24, barefoot and in his bathing suit, is in the process of moving his clothes from his room. A cramped storage room somehow refurbished into a single bedroom. Natalia, a girl of about his same age, is lying on the bed. It is obvious both have been on it together. Orion goes to the window and looks down. A car pulls up below, blowing up clouds of dust, and stops at the villa's main entrance. A tall young man steps out of the car, wearing a billowy bright blue shirt with a wide open collar, and a golden necklace. This is MAGNUS, 27.

Leo, the gardener and handyman, appears below followed by CASPIAN is the fifties, distinguished, vigorous. CELESTE, his wife, is in her mid forties. Caspian gave a warm welcome to magnus ``welcome! Oh, my you are much bigger than your picture!. Celeste, where's Orion?. I'd better go down," orion, said to natalia".

At the end of the stairs Orion sees Magnus being walked to his dad Caspian's study. Magnus' suitcase and backpack lie gestures towards them. Help bring Magnus things up to your room, " Celeste said to Orion". Orion enters his father's studio. Magnus, sitting on the sofa, is having a glass of fresh water. Even if exhausted by the heat, he remains elegant and somewhat iconi. Caspian introduced the two formally.

Orion, Magnus. Magnus, Orion. They shake hands. They both greet each other by hi and hello. Make yourself at home. Our home is your house. Caspian said.

They head up the stairs together and Orion lunges for the heavy suitcase, while Magnus takes the backpack. Orion "my room is now your room. I'll be next door. They meet Natalia coming down. More Introductions in the middle of the stairs. She kisses Magnus both cheeks. Magnus is curious about her and looks back as he continues up. She looks back after he does. They enter Orion's bedroom. Magnus drops his backpack and crashes on the bed, exhausted. Orion lays the suitcase next to the bed. We're sharing the bathroom. It's my only way out. But Magnus is not listening, he has already fallen asleep. Orion walks out and closes the door that separates their two rooms.

The following day. Magnus is coming down the stairs. Not knowing where to go, he listens for the Caspian's voices until he sees, through a corridor, the kitchen. Just beyond it, outside in the garden, he can see the family having breakfast.

Magnus comes out and sits down, watching how Orion expertly cracks hks soft boiled egg shell, then he also attempts to do the same, but only a tiny bit of the shell is pierced, so he pretends to busy himself with his coffee and pushes the egg away from him. Orion, has been trying not to stare at their guest and is concentrating on spreading honey on a piece of bread, now lifts his head and speaks, growing unnaturally loud. I can show you around. Orion said to Magnus. And he answered, "Good. Are we far from the town? I need to open a bank account. None of our residents has ever had a local bank account. Caspian said to Magnus. Orion turns in his seat to get a better view of Magnus, who is sitting beside him.

Meanwhile, Orion is on his bed, still dressed. He cannot sleep. He hears a noise outside and quickly strips off his clothes, putting on his pajama bottoms. But no one comes, there are no sounds on the stairs or activity in the other room next to him. Magnus arrives on his scooter from the town, wearing the blue bathing suit and blue billowy shirt he had when he first arrived. Orion is on his bed wearing only boxer shorts. His s right hand is down inside his shorts. He starts touching himself. All of the sudden footsteps outside his door. Magnus, shirtless, enters the room from the bathroom. Orion quickly pulls his hand from his boxers with a jerking movement as if caught in an embarrassing position. Magnus asked Orion, "why aren't you with the others at the river? Orion is speechless, out of breath, says. I'm… I'm busy right reading this novel. Wow! You also read that book. Magnus said. The book is entitled five people you will meet in heaven. Want to.go for a swim? Just the two of us? Magnus asked. Orion is still out of breath. Later, maybe. Magnus grabbed Orion's hand and said "let's go now. When Magnus grabs Orion hand Orion turns on his side facing the wall, away from Magnus, to prevent him from seeing his face but in his movement is also a slight tugging which could have pulled Magnus down on the bed.

Another day. Orion is sitting at his usual table under grapes tree writing his diary, the wind is moving the leaves of the tree then he puts the open diary on the top of the table and goes into the bathroom to pee, shutting the door behind him. He anxiously thought it was too hard when I told him I thought he hated me. Orion goes back inside and up the stairs very quietly and along the corridor he shares with Magnus. He approaches Magnus' door like a detective looking for clues. The lights suddenly all go out in the house. The music from a long playing record old radio box dies to stop. There is a shout in the kitchen. Orion, I'd never have the courage to ask such a question. You know you can talk to us about anything? Caspian said to his son and he added. The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things stay the same only by changing. They have been sitting in near darkness. The rain beats against the window panes.

Orion shakes his head. Magnus waits for Orion to say something. He stares at him. In the silence of the moment, Orion stares back. It is the first time Orion has dared to. Stare back at Magnus openly.

Before this moment he has always cast a glance, then looked away from Magnus' steely gaze. It is as if, finally, Orion is saying to Magnus. This is who I am, this is who you are, this is what I want. You are making things very difficult for me. Magnus said to Orion.

When they take their lunch Orion suddenly feels a headache and he hasn't finished eating his food and he goes to his room to get rest. Before goes to his room Orion is in the kitchen looking for some medicine to stop his headaches.

Orion is lying in his bed hugging his pillows so tight, his head is tilted back. Magnus "Orion! Where are you? Magnus is in the corridor looking for him. Orion knocked the wall beside him. Magnus goes over to him. Was it my fault? Magnus asked. I'm a mess, aren't I? Orion said. Magnus takes Orion's feet in his hand and begins massaging them, pulling on his toes until they crack. Orion cries out in mingled pleasure and pain.

The next day. Orion walks into the fresh water and swims. Down the river is a group of his friends playing on the grass, Magnus isn't there. Orion is not unhappy. There is a rippling shaft of sunlight on the water directly towards him. He swims into it. We see that Orion is now wearing his necklace with a virgo zodiac sign pendant.

Orion reaches out to him, bursting into tears. The emotion and intensity of their intimacy finally overwhelmed him. He muffles his sobs against Magnus' shoulder. Then Orion held him close. Next day. Orion wakes up to find him alone in bed. Magnus has to go to the town for a couple of days to finalize the contraction there before he leaves. Orion asked permission to his parents if he can go to the town to be with Magnus. Celeste takes her husband's hand to say yes. Orion smiles and waves to his parents before he goes to the town. Magnus stands looking out as Orion comes up from behind him, putting his arm around Magnus' waist. They enjoyed the rest of the day, they got drunk and wasted. They didn't consciously care about their actions. They hug tightly. After several moments Orion let's go first and he holds him tighter. Magnus hugs him back as they hold each other for the last time. Letting their embrace say what words cannot.

Orion's room, in which Magnus has stayed. Alone now, Orion enters it and looks around. Everything of his has been put back, his clothes in the closet and drawers. He closes his eyes. He is glad to be back in his old room, now full of beautiful and sustaining memories of Magnus.

[danganronpa-madness-imagines]

Kokichi with S/O who is a big sister figure to him during the killing game.

Hey my lovely, anon. I apologize if this took long, I've been watching death note. I really liked this idea and had fun writing it. Please tell me if you want me to change anything okay? Remember you are all welcome to ask or request anything. I love you all so much. Stay safe everyone!

♥Mod Maki♥

Kokichi with S/O who is a big sister figure to him during the killing game:

~We all know Kokichi right? The biggest liar in existence, the boy that messes everything up, you know him right? Who would’ve thought someone actually cared for him? 

~Everyone always says nasty things to him and tries not to pay attention to him. Apparently you did for some reason.

~ You had his back since day one. Standing by his side when Miu or Kiibo said something, telling him nice and comforting things whenever you thought he needed it, Pranked some of the other students along with him, and just being there for him.

~He wondered why you were treating him like this? Shouldn’t you hate his guts like Maki and Kaito?

~Kokichi kept asking himself the same question over and over. Did you want something from him? Or were you just genuinely acting like this? You didn’t seem like you were lying so he went along with it. As time progressed, he started to grow more attached to you. He trusted you and the same for him.

~You two were like brother and sister. For the first time in a while, he had someone he could trust and be himself with. Unlike “them.” He just teased you just a tiny bit. Okay, maybe more than a bit. 

~When hanging out with him, there was a bunch of silly jokes and talks about randomness. Sometimes you two would meet outside at night to talk. It was just so relaxing, it was a way to escape from reality even if it was just for a few minutes.                

~It had been a little into your relationship with Kokichi when he trusted you enough to let you into his room. And jeez his room was messy. Random boxes swept to the side, a messy bed, And items you’ve never seen before.

~The least he could’ve done was cleaned up before he invited you over.  But that was perfectly fine. At least he was able to trust you during this time period.

~You two were outside, sitting on a blanket you set down on the grass. Just talking about whatever came to mind. That was when Kokichi rested his head on your lap. 

~Oh, What’s this? You asked. 

~I was getting kinda cold over there by myself, Maybe you can warm me up? Kokichi asked. 

~W-what do you mean you perverted animal?  You asked feeling your cheeks heat up.

~Nishishi, Your so silly S/O, what did you think I meant? You’re the real pervert. Yeah, that’s right you better have not said anything perverted. You replied back. 

~Okay, I get it S/O, your a pervert we all know it.

~No, I’m not Kokichi! You shouted.

~A few moments of silence passed. You felt as if he was staring at you so you lowered your head for your eyes to meet his. The smile on his face was nothing you’ve ever seen before. It wasn’t a shit-eating grin or anything. It was a genuine smile. His smile made the corners of your lips curl up.

~And for some reason, you got the urge to pat his head. You lightly patted his head.

~Pfft! What are you doing S/O? I’m not a dog. Kokichi started to laugh.

I don’t know I just felt like it. You giggled.

~Your such an idiot, S/O nishisi. Kokichi teased.

~I-Im not what are you talking about you purple grape?

~You both looked at each other. Then, You two burst out laughing. 

~And this was another good memory you had with Kokichi.

[travellvogue]

Picnic- Anyone You Like

He was nervous, so nervous. The fact you’d accepted his offer of a date took him by surprise, and now he found himself watching you with a wide smile as you walked along the length of the park towards where he’d set up camp. Sat on the thick plaid blanket, the layer of material protecting you from the itchy long strands of grass and the exploring ants, the array of treats neatly laid out under the shade of the large oak tree. A choice of grapes, bread sticks, mini sandwiches he’d woken up early this morning to chop the crusts off of, frantically panicking that they won’t look as impressive if they’d been lazily left cut in half- doubting his options of plain ham, plain cheese, marmite and jam- wanting to make sure there was definitely something there that you’d like. His hands grow clammy with every step you took. Does he go in for a handshake? A hug? Kiss you on the cheeks? No that’s too prim-and-proper.

The bustling of the city skyline seemed to become silent the second you reached him, it was just you and him in that moment. He opted for a hug, your arms wrapping around his muscular frame with a warming ‘hello!’ instantly putting him at ease. “Welcome” he giggles nervously, arms splayed out, presenting the selection of goodies he’d prepared for the two of you, taking a seat on the blanket and patting the space beside him for you to join. Your top dangles open when you lean down and he has to stop himself from looking, busying himself with the trays of neatly cut sandwiches. “I made some sandwiches, there’s different options in there.. You don’t have to eat all of them, I just wanted, y’know to make sure-there’s marmite- wait no one likes marmite I-” your hand delicately rests on the side of his arm. Your smile melting his nervous hurry of words, his sentence barely able to string itself together. 

“I love marmite” you wink, watching the weight drop from his shoulders, a quiet sigh of relief, pulling back the layer of cling film that coated the tray, “and I love the effort you’ve gone to, thank you so much” you take a bit of the sandwich, humming in delight at the taste, the first thing you’d eaten all day- too nervous to even think of forcing some soggy cornflakes down your neck this morning. He blushes at your praise, offering you options from the never ending supply of treats.  

Small talk is made as you nibble of pita bread and cheese, asking him about how his recent game was. It wasn’t intrusive, he appreciated that, other girls would swoon over his footballer status but you held a comfort that made it feel like a regular nine-to-five job. 

As the conversation began to pick up, hours passed, and you found yourselves lying on your tummies, heads propped up by your hands, shoes flung to the side of the blanket with your bare feet swishing in the air, tapping each other's ankles every so often, the small contact giving him the comfort he needed. Indulging in a game of ‘people-watching���, the city that never slept offering endless conversation, watching the couples walk by hand in hand, some staying a few metres away from each other looking rather tense, others linking arms deep in conversation. He seems himself in some of them, you by his side blushing at the compliment he’d give you, your hair falling over your shoulder, only for you to complain that you’re in desperate need of a haircut. But he liked it, the way it traced down your back, the loose strands making themselves known at the front of your face, only to watch you tuck them behind your ears to stop them protruding your eye line. 

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” his daydream is interrupted by your gentle voice, a single finger subtly pointing at the new pair of people. Maybe mid-20’s, the man tall and lean, around the six foot two mark, the woman far more petite, the skirt she was wearing only made her legs look shorter next to his. Their hands were clasped together, bright smiles on their faces as their arms swung back and forth in an over exaggerated fashion. 

“Ahh, the honeymoon stage” he hums, exuberating a fake confidence as though he was certain on the answer, your giggles filling his ears as he continues the characteristics, fingers brushing against his chin as though he was combing through a long beard, deep in thought, watching them walk along the path out of sight. “Six months, madam” he winks at you, popping a grape into his mouth, watching you raise your eyebrow and nod in agreement. He feels a burst of pride, he’d impressed you. 

The hurried businessman sprung up the next conversation, the overly expensive suit still failed to sit properly at his ankles, flapping vigorously with every stride he took. Phone held against his ear, orders shouted into it at what you could assume was aimed at his assistant. 

“Phil, thirty four-” you begin, painting a picture of the strangers background story, he listens intently with a wide smirk, “works in fInAnCe mAnAgeMeNt, and is always bragging about his sex life despite his wife not giving him any cose the newborn takes up all her time” you shrug, you look over to him, only to notice he’d been staring at you the whole time, smiling and blinking slowly as your eyes meet, blushing vigorously, wondering if you’d gone too far. 

“So instead he flirts with the lady at the front desk, and he’s got a tinder profile set up on his ‘work phone’, describing himself as an ‘avid runner’” he continues for you. The two of you laughing loudly at the information you’d received from the poor guys image.

His hand comes to brush against yours, fingers pushed through your own, lifting both your hands to point at the bustling group of mums approaching the corner of the lake. Too caught up in their meaningless conversation of pelvic muscle exercises and the smoothies they’d been trying to notice one of the many babies is heading directly for the water, excitedly chasing after a terrified duck. “That better not be you when we have kids” he nudges your shoulder with his own. Only for his whole body to freeze in a fit of panic. Fuck. what did he say that for? On a first date?! 

“Absolutely not” you scoff humorously, his comment made the butterflies in your tummy erupt and set off in flight to help the poor duck. Gripping his hand firmer to comfort his worry. His nervous giggle growing a decibel louder as he shuffles closer to you. “You’d never find me in a park… I’ll be in Selfridges, taking full advantage of your credit card” you let out a loud howl at your own joke, hearing him playfully tut at your words, watching you in such awe as you role onto your back, staring up at the passing clouds, only then realising the sun was beginning to set behind the large oak tree, the hours having flown by with the easy conversation. 

“Very funny pretty one” the nickname didn’t faze him this time, now he laid on his back next to you, your head twisting to look over at him. Your smile growing at the sight of his own, his hand coming to find yours again. 

He’s silent.

You both are.

Neither of you speaking in the moment, his body now propped onto its side, looking down at your resting beauty, tucking that troublesome strand of hair behind your ear. Fingertips brushing against your skin, the golden sunlight painting you as a goddess, something you’d only find in the movies. And yet here he was, in his own fairy-tale. 

If anyone was watching you, laid on their bellies creating background stories for strangers they’d never met. They’d say the two of you had been together for years, that ‘honeymoon’ stage never leaving, not with the way you still looked at each other. They’d giggle as they made make-believe careers for you both, naming your first child for you. Then they’d watch, in silence, as he leans forward, lips slightly pouted, eyes beginning to close. 

Closer, closer, closer. 

“Turtle” you speak. His eyes now open, lips relaxed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, 

“What?” he chuckles nervously. The so-close-yet-so-far feeling looming in the pit of his stomach. Your arm flies up, index finger pointing towards the fluffy cloud above your heads. 

“It looks like a turtle” you giggle. His breath leaving his nostrils in defeat. Laying down beside you once again, shoulder to shoulder, eyes studying the clouds above your heads. 

He can’t help but smile, maybe he didn’t get the kiss, but he got all this, the tranquility of feeling you’d known someone for years, the normality and comfort of your eyes, the peaceful trance of your smile, the music of your giggle. 

As he lays down on the crumb covered picnic blanket, he finds himself imagining your future, creating the future for him and the girl laid next to his beating heart and twisting stomach, the girl he’d only met today.

----

thank you for reading! let me know who you imagined it with x

[atths--twice]

Hey hey hey! Hope you’re having fun with this series, I know I did and I am. 

Here is a little happy moment in their lives, in between the seventh and eighth month of pregnancy. Happy reading!

Peaceful Relaxation 4/6

Mulder and a pregnant Scully, relaxing in a hammock, content in this moment of their lives. 

August 2018

Mulder stepped into the backyard, a glass of sparkling grape juice in his hand, and walked towards Scully. She was lying in the hammock he had surprised her with a couple of days ago.

She had been sleeping on the couch recently, her ever expanding belly causing aches in her hips and back. Their bed was comfortable, but for right now, she claimed the couch felt better on her aching bones.

Two nights of her sleeping downstairs, and he did some searching online, finding that a hammock could be beneficial to alleviate some of her pain. Driving out to the store, he had purchased the best one he could find, after many questions to the salesperson.

He had brought it home, determined to put it together on his own before she came home from her shift at the hospital. The amount of pieces and work involved was daunting, but glancing at the clothesline he and Mrs. Scully had installed a couple of years ago, he knew he could do it.

And he had. Meeting her at the door with a grin, he had taken her bag and set it down before grasping her hand and bringing her to the backyard to present it to her. Her smile and happiness was worth the two small cuts he received from being inept when it came to using tools.

Her shoes had come off and he helped her to lie down as she sighed deeply, her head on the pillow he had also purchased. He watched her smile, her eyes closed, the warm wind blowing her hair, her hands clasped above her stomach.

“This is perfect, Mulder. Lay down with me,” she had said softly, moving her hand to pat the spot beside her, eyes remaining closed. He smiled and went to do her bidding, lying beside her and listening to her breathing contentedly, happy he could do something to help.

Stepping over to her now, he stopped short, seeing her eyes closed and hearing her breathing slow and steady. Not wanting to wake her, he turned to leave, when her hand shot out and stopped him.

“If that’s my grape juice, don’t even think about walking away,” she said, opening one eye to look at him. He grinned and squatted beside her, handing her the glass and pushing the straw toward her lips. She took a long drink and moaned as she swallowed. “God, that’s so good. I don’t think I can adequately describe to you the desire I have for it. It’s so strong and when I finally get it, it’s just… mmm.” She took another long drink and the glass was empty except for the ice tinkling at the bottom.

“Would you like some more? I could get you some. Quench that desire for you,” he said, her words carrying a double meaning for him and causing his mind to race. “I do enjoy you being thoroughly satisfied.” She laughed and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

“I’m good for now.”

“Well, if you need anything, I mean anything, you let me know. I’m here for all your needs,” he assured her as he stood up to take the glass back inside.

“You take that glass inside and then come lay beside me, that’s what I need.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He walked towards the house, glancing back to see her running her hands over her stomach, and he smiled. Opening the back door, he decided to bring out some snacks and the bottle of grape juice so he would not need to get up again.

Packing the bottle of juice and lemonade for himself into an insulated bag, he dumped in some ice. Placing disposable cups, straws, crackers and chips into a bag, he opened the door and stepped back into the warm afternoon.

He set the items down and slipped off his shoes, sitting down carefully and then lying beside her. As he did, she turned onto her side, put her head on his shoulder, and reached for his left hand.

“Feel right here.” She smiled and put his hand on the side of her stomach. He waited and was soon rewarded with a swift kick under his hand. Smiling, he gently rubbed his thumb across her stomach, hoping to feel it again.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm, not too bad. But even if it did, I would welcome it,” she said softly and he nodded, knowing that of course she would. He watched her face as he waited and when he felt it again, she smiled happily.

“I love you,” he said quietly. She pulled back and looked at him, scrunching her chin with a smile, her eyes so blue.

“I love you too.” She held his gaze and he nodded, smiling at her as the hammock moved gently in the breeze. Holding onto his right arm, she put her head back on his shoulder.

He kept his hand on her stomach, moving it as he felt the baby moving around inside of her. “Moving a lot today,” he said, in awe of the life they had created.

“Mm-hmm,” she breathed and he smiled, knowing she was nearly asleep. She was tired more easily these days, napping often  and always apologizing for it, though he repeatedly told her to stop.

He closed his eyes, moving his hand to his own stomach, and took a deep breath. It was warm in the shade of the late afternoon, the wind blowing just enough to keep it from being unbearable.

A soft snore caused him to open his eyes and smile. She would deny it, had in fact done so in the past when he teased her about snoring, but he knew she did when she was very tired. Moaning, she moved slightly and breathed deeply again. He smiled and closed his eyes again, feeling in need of a nap of his own.

The grass was taller and smelled sweet as spring began to make way for summer. He heard Scully call to him and he turned around, seeing her on the porch swing and pointing to his left with a smile. He nodded and headed in the direction she had pointed.

“Fe fi fo fum,” he growled, stomping his feet as he stepped deeper into the grass. “I will catch you, so you better not run.” Hearing a giggle to his left, he kept walking, knowing she was out there somewhere.

“I will find you little girl. I will find you and tickle you.”

“You have to catch me first, Daddy!” she called and he saw the grass moving ahead of him to the right. Quickening his steps, he saw the back of her before the grass swallowed her again.

“Oh… I was so close, but now I’m on your tail. It won’t be long until I find you.” She giggled louder and he stomped toward her and parted the grass. Finding her crouched down with her hand on her mouth to quiet her laughter, he bent down and stared at her, her blue eyes shining.

She moved her hand and jumped into his arms. “You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!” He grinned as he held her tightly and stood up, rocking her as her legs dangled down, swinging from side to side.

“I will always find you, my sweet girl. Always.” He turned around and started back to the house.

“Even if I was far away? Or hiding somewhere you’ve never been?”

“Always. No matter what.”

She held him tighter and he heard her sigh with happiness. Smiling, he looked up to see Scully standing at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, and a smile on her face.

“Well, it looks like you’ve been found, little one. Did you have fun?” Scully asked as they walked up the steps and he set her down.

“I did. Daddy founded me. He’s a good finder.”

“That he is,” Scully agreed and smiled at him, her eyes shining; like mother like daughter. “How about a snack? Something yummy?”

“Yeah! Carrots and celery, please,” she said, pushing one of her long dark braids over her shoulder, opening the screen door, and stepping inside the house.

“Ugh, how is she my child when she asks for stuff like that?” he asked and Scully laughed, patting him on the chest.

“Can I have a cookie too?” They both turned and saw her face pressed into the screen with a hopeful grin.

“See, now that’s more like it! My girl! Yes, you may have a cookie.” He clapped in excitement and they both laughed.

“Mulder…” Scully warned and he looked at her. “Mulder…”

“Mulder! You’re snoring.”

His eyes flew open and he exhaled a breath. Expecting them to be on the porch, he was surprised to find that they were lying on the hammock, the sun just beginning to set. He looked at her, one hand on her belly, the other holding his own and he exhaled again.

“You okay?” she mumbled, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah… just having a dream. Sorry about the snoring.”

“No need to apologize.”

He shook his head, his dream lingering still, leaving behind a feeling of deja vu. He was sure he had dreamt something similar many years ago.

A little girl running through the grass, the way it felt when she wrapped her arms around his neck, the happiness it brought him. Those blue eyes staring at him, so full of love.

“Hmm, we should probably head inside soon,” Scully breathed and he was brought back to the present. Moving his hand, he placed it gently on her stomach. “I think she’s sleeping. Looks like we all took a nap.”

He heard the smile in her voice and he smiled too, leaving his hand there and thinking of that little blue-eyed girl. If his dream was a premonition, if he was somehow seeing what would be, he could not wait.

“A few more minutes, Scully. Let’s see what colors the setting sun has in store for us today,” he said, rubbing his hand slowly across her belly, happy and content in the moment.

“No complaints on my end,” she agreed, covering his hand with hers and sighing.

Red, orange, and pink filled the sky before they rose carefully from the hammock. He brought the food and drinks they did not eat back into the house, as Scully walked ahead of him and stretched by the table.

He grinned as her shirt rose up a little and her belly was exposed. So beautiful, she was so beautiful. She caught him grinning and he shook his head, causing her to smile back as she lowered her arms.

“Dinner?” she asked and he nodded, turning on the oven to reheat last night’s leftovers. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll be down in a few.” He nodded and she walked upstairs.

Crossing the room, he opened the front door and then the screen. How odd it would have been to step through and find dream Scully on the porch, that little face pressed to the screen asking for cookies.

He looked around the porch, shaking his head at the realness of it all. His gaze landing to his left, he decided right then to find a porch swing and hang it, providing a place for them to relax. How had they not done so yet? The space was perfect.

Nodding, he added it to the list of things he needed to finish before the baby was born. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the night air warm as the crickets began to sing. He smiled, the memories of the dream taking away any fear or worry he may have had.

They were going to be okay; all of them. This was the life they had always been meant to have, it had just taken them a few tries to finally get it right.

“You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!”

He opened his eyes and breathed deeply once more. “Yes, I will always find you.” He nodded and stepped back inside, leaving the door open, allowing the breeze to blow softly through the screen and into the house.

Putting the dinner in the oven, he smiled again. “And I will give all the cookies you could ever want. Just don’t tell your Mommy,” he whispered, glancing up, knowing Scully would not have been able to hear him. “I can’t wait to meet you, but you take your time.”

He remembered the sound of her happy giggle in the sea of the tall green grass, the feel of her in his arms, and the sweetness of her little voice. His girl.

“Take your time, Sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”

[thereluctantinquisitor]

AHHH I MISSED PROMPTS! How about we give someone in Stonebreaker something they desperately need. 22, nap!

Micro Story Prompt

In which I, once again, fail to deliver a micro story. (1453 words SHAAME).

                                         ---------------------------

“Hey, Delver... can we stop for a bit?”

The heat was unbearable. Oppressive. Smothering. So much so that Delver trudged a few more steps, deep in the trance of just putting one foot in front of the other, before he even realised Sylda had opened her mouth. By the time he lumbered to a halt, the young woman was already veering off the road, her pack half-slung, dangling from her elbow. “What?” He blinked slowly, glancing around the roadside. Red dust. Brown grass. A scattering of rustbark trees. “Right here?”

Divider, he felt like his head was about to split open. Whose bright idea was it to make the sun so damn... well... bright.

“Mhm. Why not?” Sylda, the brat, was already dragging out her spare cloak. Deftly, she shook out any stray pieces of grass before laying it down again beneath the thick branch of one of the rustbarks. The squat tree, its copper leaves drooping like a miser’s purse, cast its shadow at a long, wide angle. They still had a few hours of light left. It made no sense to stop.

Delver opened his mouth to say as much, only to turn and find Sylda already lying on her back, one leg kicked over the other, her foot bobbing, shoeless, in the late afternoon heat. He stared for a beat. And another, bemused. Then, with a defeated sigh, he shook his head and trudged over, boots grinding against road until the sound was replaced by the snapping of brittle grass.

“What, no argument?” Sylda seemed genuinely surprised. He supposed that was fair enough. On a regular day, he would have a number of choice words at the ready, but right now his head hurt enough to turn his empty stomach inside out. So instead, Delver just grunted, dropping to the ground, not even bothering to put anything beneath him. He wrapped himself in his cloak and leaned back against the rustbark’s knotted trunk. As always, it was about as comfortable as lounging on a bed of river rocks, but for some reason it didn’t bother him so much. The shade alone, like a salve against his throbbing skull, was worth the rest of the discomfort.

”Twenty minutes,” he said, and tried hard to keep the relief out of his voice as a gentle breeze trickled around the tree, curling the edges of his cloak. Merciful Divider. He failed to stifle a yawn. “After that, we keep moving.”

“Forty,” Sylda countered. Because of course she did. “I’ll keep watch for the first half while you take a nap. You can do the second. Deal?”

Delver would have sent her a vicious glare - Divider knows she deserved it.

But, lucky for her, his eyes were already shut.

                                                ---------------

Delver awoke, disoriented, to the sound of birds. Groaning, struggling onto one elbow, he nearly yelped like a startled maid when something slid from on top of him and landed with an indignant rustle in the grass.

A cloak?

His cloak.

When had he...?

As his consciousness slowly rejoined reality, Delver glanced around. A few feet away was a pit, lined with stones, the smoke of a freshly quenched fire curling from its charred center. A pot hung above it, filled with water, about a cup short of full.

And, perched atop the already packed coil of her sleeping roll, was Sylda.

How had she managed to boil an entire pot of water in twenty minutes?

“Oh, hey- you’re up.” Turning, alerted by his attractively waking grunts, Sylda threw Delver an innocent smile. It called forth just the right amount of dimples to disarm even the sternest opponent. It was the exact smile she used when she was up to something. “Feeling any better?”

As much as Delver wanted to chastise her, he found himself lacking the willpower. Again. Oddly enough, this time it was because he didn’t feel like a mule had kicked him in the head.

He really was losing his touch.

“I’m fine. I was fine yesterday, too.” Sitting up, wincing from a night spend on dirt and stones, he mustered the effort to cast her a disparaging look. “You didn’t keep watch all night, did you?” He wasn’t sure what would make him angrier. Camping roadside was dangerous at the best of times. One of the biggest benefits to traveling as a pair was having a second set of eyes readily available. If she’d stayed awake, she was an idiot. If she’d dozed off, she was a reckless idiot.

Sylda shrugged, before climbing to her feet and moving towards the pot of water. Well, at least she'd put her boots back on. “It’s alright. I sleep well most nights.” She left out the unspoken unlike you, which was unusually tactful for her. “And before you start snapping at my neck, it was an accident, okay? I got all stuck in my thoughts and forgot to wake you.” She scooped a ladle of water into a cup. The water was probably still pleasantly warm. “You didn’t even snore for once. It was actually peaceful.”

While that was a valiant attempt to distract him, Delver refused to rise to her obviously false bait. He didn’t snore. He had that on good authority. “It doesn’t do either of us any good if you’re exhausted either,” he chided, stiffly accepting the offered cup. “You won’t be able to concentrate on your lessons.”

The water was a sweet, sweet mercy. His throat felt thick and dry with dust. It coated his skin, his hair, darkened the underside of his nails. Divider’s Own, he couldn’t wait to be rid of it. Away from the dust storms, and the burning heat, and the shadeless stretches of sun-cracked road...

He lost himself so thoroughly in the simple act of drinking that he completely missed that Sylda had spoken.

“I said,” she repeated with a roll of her eyes, “that you’ve been in no shape to give me lessons these past few days anyway, so what does it matter if I’m a little tired?”

The urge to argue rose like a flood within him. In fact, Delver spent a good half-minute in stony silence trying to come up with a remotely feasible defense. But, like with most things lately, it just kept slipping through his fingers. He might not be in crippling pain, but he still wasn’t himself. As much as he loathed to admit it... she might have a point.

“Oh!” Clearly immune to his resentful silence, Sylda tugged up her sleeve, her fingers making short work of the leather straps binding the anchor to her wrist. “Here. I took it off you while you were sleeping. Figured I could try practice a bit overnight, but...” She faltered, some of the brightness in her dimming as she turned the ebenite disc over in her hands. Delver waited silently, partly because he still felt a little too raw to speak, partly because he assumed she had more to say. But instead, she just sighed and handed it over, her eyes fixed on the brown grass at her feet. The shame radiated off her so intensely it was almost palpable.

“Drawing from any anchor isn’t easy, Sylda.” The disc felt right, strapped safely to his wrist again. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed its absence the moment he woke. “And drawing from Ebenite? It’s practically impossible at the best of times. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here, doing what we’re doing.”

More importantly, if she truly couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t be here. Alive. Breathing. Mothering him despite being ten years his junior.

“I know, I know.” With a heavy breath, Sylda kicked at the stones near her feet. “I just... I don’t know. I have the anchor, and I have you. I figured I’d be able to do something by now.”

You and me both, Delver thought, but kept it to himself as they lapsed into silence. She self-applied more than enough pressure without him adding to it. He might be a belligerent asshole, but he liked to think he knew when to ease off. “We should pack up,” he said after a time, sensing they both needed a distraction. As Sylda nodded and stood again, his gaze followed her, a slight frown tinging his brow. “You’re... sure you’re not tired?”

His kindhearted concern was met with an entirely unnecessary groan.

“I’m not, Delver. Really - I feel better than fine. It was just one night. I’ve stayed up for longer before, back when I was in Yelen.”

Just one night. Sure, if they were lounging around eating grapes and reading poetry, he might accept that. But they were on the road, traveling all day in the dragging heat of Latesun. It just didn’t add up.

Then again, he had to admit, she really did seem fine. No heavy footsteps. No dark circles beneath her eyes. No sluggish reactions as she went about clearing up their makeshift campsite, bundling utensils, kicking dirt over the fire, re-scattering the stones. She wasn’t even yawning, even though she had been the day before.

Slowly, Delver’s gaze drifted down to the anchor. It was warm against his wrist. As warm as usual? It was hard to tell, with the day’s heat already climbing fast around them. Regardless, he made a mental note to pay closer attention in the future. Something could be happening right beneath their noses. Something subtle enough that they could comfortably blink and miss it.

“So are you planning to watch me do all the work, or...?”

Snorting, Delver waved an acquiescing hand and struggled to his feet, muscles protesting the movement, aching from a night spent curled on the uneven ground. “What, you mean your goodwill only lasted one night?”

He barely caught the ladle as it went spinning towards his head.

[galadrieljones]

That he may hold me by the hand - Chapter 12

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes and Situations, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 12: Awake, dear heart.

“If you’re concerned about leaving them behind, then ask them to come with us,” said Albert. It was the next morning. They were getting dressed, getting ready to head down to the saloon to meet John and Mary Beth for breakfast. Apparently Josiah was indisposed with a hangover and could not be bothered.

Arthur was tucking in his shirt. They had been talking about the Marstons. He paused a moment to regard Albert in his level of seriousness. It seemed quite high. The morning was sunny. The room was bright. “Bring them to California?”

“Yes,” said Albert. “I can—I can pay their way. I’m more than happy to do that.”

Arthur fixed his suspenders, exhaled with some gravity at the thought. “John’s gonna have a hard time taking your money, Al. That’s a pride thing. It’s nice of you though.”

“Of course. But the offer is on the table, all right? Will he take your money?”

“Maybe,” said Arthur. “I think he’s got some of his own, but with a woman and a boy, taking chances without enough—it ain’t smart. John ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s got good instincts. I wonder how much he’s got.”

“You should talk to him,” said Albert. “Maybe he’ll let go of his pride. Or, put it on hold.”

“You don’t really know John.”

“No, I don’t,” said Albert. “But I’ve met him and talked to him enough times to know that he’s generally agreeable. And he’s not anywhere near as difficult as you are, Arthur, when it comes to prying back the lid.”

Arthur gave him a look. “Prying back the lid?”

Albert held his eyes. “I just mean that he's open. More so than you, or I. He's just somewhat...young."

"He's only five years younger than you."

"Five years is enough, and we're very different."

“I get it.”

“Talk to him. See what he’s willing to do.”

Arthur knotted his hair back and stood there. He looked down at his gun belt, where it lie in a pile on the floor. He was absorbing Albert’s observation, which he knew was most certainly correct. “Yeah, okay,” he said, scrubbing at the scruff on his cheeks. “I’ll talk to him. Today.”

“Splendid,” said Albert. He drew quiet then, a little wreath of quiet, hanging in the air.

Arthur looked up from where he was buttoning his collar. “What’s the matter?”

Albert was standing still, fully dressed, looking sharp in a pale blue collared shirt with a navy vest. He was staring at the floor between them. He said nothing.

“You worried?” said Arthur, fishing for his eyes. He found them, eventually. “You’re worried.”

“Somewhat.”

“We’re just bringing in a bounty, Al. It’s legal work.”

“I know,” said Albert. “I don’t really care about the legal part. Just be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” said Arthur. He leaned in and kissed him once. “Weren’t no other outlaw so careful as me.”

A couple of weeks before, John had got a lead on a bounty to collect in the southern bayou region of Lemoyne. The guy was a moonshiner who had killed his two partners in pursuit of their share in the earnings, and was most likely on his way to killing more. The new Sheriff in Rhodes had a strict NO SHINE policy and was kind of a stern, mean, and old motherfucker. He chewed on pieces of bark and had been sober since 1883. He didn’t care for outlaws, but he did not disdain them either. He seemed to understand that, inevitably, in the ecosystem of the law, a strategic utilization of organized lawlessness had its direct advantages. He sure as shit didn’t want to hunt down shiners in the bayou himself. Was a lot easier, and faster, to hire a couple young guns with a distinct financial thirst and an understanding of how to discretely circumvent the polite order of things. Plus, his deputies were shit.

John, upon his acquisition of the task, had asked Arthur to assist him. In the meantime, Albert had offered to show Abigail and Jack around St. Denis. They had never been to the city before, and though Mary Beth had initially signed on to do it, she had been called upon unexpectedly by Tilly to aid in a housekeeping scam, and she could not turn down the money.

That day, after Arthur and John left for Rhodes, where originated their lead, Albert, Abigail, and Jack departed the saloon and took a walk around the city. Abigail very much liked St. Denis. The sights and sounds and all of the people filled her with energy. She also enjoyed spending time with Albert. He was a skilled gentleman, a very kind man. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, talked to Jack with a great deal of enthusiasm, and he was soft-spoken, which was calming. Abigail was used to a kind of brute chivalry in men but not to Albert’s sense of refinement. It was, in some ways, intoxicating. He was also very stoic, she thought. He was loquacious, but it felt like kind of a show, to distract from how well he was able to control his inner-self. In this way, he was a lot like Arthur.

The weather was pretty that day, and not too humid. The sun was exquisitely bright, so Albert purchased for Abigail a parasol at the shop of a Russian dressmaker near Chinatown. Abigail was overwhelmed by the gesture. He told her it was no trouble. She was so enchanted by the accessory, however, she felt herself the envy of every other woman on the promenade. She studied the seams and construction of the piece so that she might one day be able to make her own. It didn’t seem too difficult if she could get ahold of the right materials.

“My mother was a seamstress for many years,” said Albert, a surprise reveal, while they walked along the shore of the lake.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said, smiling. He held his hands in his pockets as Abigail twirled the parasol. Jack had a balloon. He was running up and down the sand with it, chasing pigeons. “Even after she married my father, she still made her own dresses, always has.”

“It’s a good skill,” said Abigail.

“Indeed, it is,” he said.

They had a picnic lunch on a large checkered blanket, which they laid beneath the shade of a magnolia tree. There were not many people about, but more were starting to emerge as the day wore on. Jack had been feeding the ducks, was now asleep in the grass with his hand still full of bread crumbs. Albert was lying on his side, eating grapes, propped up on one elbow. Abigail was leaning back on her hands, with her legs crossed, barefoot, surveying the beauty of the light and how it warmed the green grass.

Albert refilled her glass. They were drinking a kind of elegant sherry, which he had brought from his apartment.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” said Abigail. “Thank you, for doing this. And it’s just been so nice to meet you, spend time with you. I hope I ain’t being too forward.”

“Not at all,” said Albert, smiling. “I have been wanting to meet you, and Jack. Arthur talks about the two of you quite often.”

“He does?”

“Yes,” said Albert. “You seem to play a big role in his daily consciousness.”

She smiled to herself and drank some of her sherry. She glanced to Jack, who was very peaceful. She had not enjoyed a day so much in some time. “Mr. Mason,” she said, after a little while.

“Yes.”

“Can I…tell you something? I really feel I must.”

“Of course,” he said. “Anything.”

She watched him as he watched the lake. She took a deep breath. She was nervous. He was so like Arthur. Impenetrable. It became more and more clear, the more time they spent, making more and more sense. Of course, it manifested differently in Albert. Where Arthur was morose and pensive, Albert was polished and mannered. It seemed a product of his societal upbringing, more than anything. “I just wanted to say that—well. Let me start from the beginning.”

Albert was a good listener. “Okay.”

She straightened up, placed her hands in her lap. The parasol was by her side, folded up, so pretty, like a bird. “I have known Arthur for about five years,” she said, looking down at her hands. “It ain’t that long, in the grand scheme of things. But you get to know people fast when you live with them. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Anyway, I just—I don’t know how to say it.” She looked at him, searched his eyes. They were very dark, like Dutch’s eyes, but they were so much softer around the edges. Almost sleepy. She could understand what Arthur saw in him. “There have been a lot of women, come through,” she said. “A man like Arthur—well, you get it. Tall, good-looking, rough and tough. Kind of mysterious. He’s a hundred licks smarter than any of these other reprobates, too, and that makes him seem unattainable. Women die over that sort of thing. Anyway, Arthur weren’t never a cad, but women have never been difficult for him. He’s had many chances over the years.”

“Yes,” said Albert, following her eyes. “He’s told me.”    

“I’m sure he has,” she said, blushing. “I ain’t meaning to overstep. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not overstepping,” said Albert. “Go on.”

“Okay,” she said. “It’s just that, in the past year or so? Arthur kind of shut down. He’s such a good man, but I was certain he’d be alone forever, that he’d given up on love. You know, when Jack was first born, John weren’t ready. He completely freaked out, disappeared on me. He didn’t come back for near on a year. In the time he was gone, Arthur was so generous. He spent time with me, helped with the baby, provided. He’s very good at that, providing. I always hoped he would find somebody who could provide for him in return. Somebody as generous as he is. Somebody that would love him without trying to change him. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” said Albert, softly.

She smiled. “Anyway, when John told me about you, I’ll admit that I was surprised. It was just so unexpected. But the way he described you, he made it sound like Arthur was finally happy, cared for. And what I wanted to say was, I can see now, why that is. I’m sorry if I sound like a moron. But thank you for letting me talk.” She exhaled, took a big gulp of her sherry, and shrugged.

Albert was warmed. Abigail was very pretty, and she was easy to be around. She reminded him of Mary Beth, just a little bit more practical, blunt. She had seen more. He could tell. He said, “You’re certainly not a moron. An thank you.”

Abigail looked up at the tree top overhead. She was counting birds, bird nests. “This city is so big,” she said after a little while. “I can’t believe it.”

“Where were you born?” said Albert.

“Denver City,” she said. “It booms some, but it ain’t like this. What about you?”

“Philadelphia.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

Albert shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He looked away then, as if something had changed.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

He sighed. He picked up his glass, swirled the sherry, but he didn’t drink it. “Nothing is the matter.”

“You’re fretting,” she said. “About Arthur. Ain’t you? I can see it. I could see it all day. You hide it well, but I know what I’m looking for.”

He sipped then, looked at her from over the rim of his glass. After he swallowed he peered down into the sherry, as if he had been caught, and said, “I am, somewhat.”

This sort of warmed her heart. “I get it,” she said. “You know I thought I would get used to it, over time, the worrying. But it never goes away. I’ve just learned to deal with it a little better.”

“How do you deal with it?” he said. “I’m curious.”

“Well,” she said. “I just consider the facts.”

“Which are?”

She kind of squared up with him then. She was an outgoing woman. She didn’t really hold things back or sugar coat. “The facts are, Arthur Morgan is a fast fucking gun, Mr. Mason.” She smiled to herself in reverie, as if recalling happy memories from the past. “Can’t nobody get the drop on him. He’s one of the foremost gunslingers in the west. Universally acknowledged in our circles. Formidable in every goddamn sense of the word. And he’s taught John everything he knows. Together, they can’t be stopped.”

Albert had a crease, between his eyebrows. It only showed up when he was nonplussed.

“By the looks of you I’m guessing you didn’t realize who you had fallen for,” said Abigail. She ate a grape.

“No, no,” said Albert. “I’m quite clear on who Arthur is. I just—I’ve never heard it described in quite those terms before.”

“I hope I ain’t scaring you. Arthur is really a big old pussy cat. He ain’t nothing to fear unless you got it coming.”

Albert blushed. He removed his hat to study the brim. “It’s quite all right. I just—I was going to say that I think I actually saw that part of him once, in action. I just didn’t know what I was seeing at the time.”

“Seriously?” said Abigail. “When?”

“It was a while ago, before we…well, when we were just friends. In Big Valley. We were camped in a meadow, near the creek. A couple of men ambushed us early in the morning, and I was held at gunpoint, and Arthur was as well. But Arthur—he was very calm. It’s almost like, like he was playing with them. When the moment of opportuity presented itself, he disarmed his attacker, shot him dead, point blank. The other man released me and ran off in fear. It was so fast—at the time I was terrified and just relieved for it to be over. But looking back, it was impressive.”

“Yeah. That sounds like Arthur,” said Abigail, plucking a handful of grass from the earth. She had been scooping it all up into a pile when suddenly, she looked at Albert full of remorse. It was as if she had made a huge mistake. “Shit,” she said, squashing the grass pile. “I hope I haven’t said too much. He’s gonna kill me. You truly love him, Mr. Mason. Don’t you? No matter what?”

Albert found this amusing. He had flattened out onto his back, so that he could look at the sky, the sunlight poking through the cracks in the leaves on the tree. He folded his hands on his chest. “More than words,” he said, on no uncertain terms.

“What would it take,” said Arthur. “To get you to leave with me, and Albert. You and Abbie, and the boy.”

They were in Rhodes that night, drinking at the Parlour House, seated in a booth toward the front of the saloon. They were planning to spend the night after interrogating a couple guys in town, at a back alley card game hosted by the local fence. They would head out hunting in the morning.

“Leave with you?” said John. He straightened up boyishly, took off his riding gloves, set them in a pile on the table. “You mean, come to California?”

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “That’s what I mean. Come to California. What would it take?”

“Not much convincing,” said John. “I’ve been wanting to get the hell out of here since Blackwater. But it would take money, I guess. More of it.”

“How much you got.”

“I got about a thousand saved.” He was thinking on it, seriously. “From jobs and such. It ain’t enough though, for the three of us to make a fresh start. You know that.”

“The land is cheaper out there than it is out here,” said Arthur. “Maybe you and me, we could go in on something.”

“Like what.”

“We can talk about it,” said Arthur. “There’s plenty to do. One decision at a time.”

“How much you got?” said John. “Just you.”

Arthur smiled. “I got a lot more than a thousand dollars. I’m gonna hack off a small amount of my savings and leave it to Mary Beth, and Mr. Mason, well—he’s offered. He’ll pay anything, but that ain’t the point. You stick with me, you don’t need to worry about money, Marston. If you want, you can pay me back as we go, but that ain’t my concern.”

“Mr. Mason,” said John, shaking his head and looking down at his bare hands. “Jesus Christ. I wonder what that’s like.”

“What what’s like?”

“That kind of money. What’s it look like, Arthur? Has he talked to you about it at all?”          

Arthur blinked. They each had a glass of bourbon. There was a man on the piano, playing a ballad, and many loud women laughing nearby. “Some,” he said, drinking. “Guys like Albert, they don’t really talk about money, but he’s got property, a couple of trusts. I mean, before him, I weren’t even used to sleeping indoors. It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

John closed his eyes, set his head back against the cushion. “You gonna let him keep taking care of you with it?” said John. “You should. Life’s a bitch, Arthur. Live while you can.”

Arthur chuckled at this. He said, “It ain’t my land in Carmel-by-the-Sea. And I sure as shit ain’t staying here.” He looked at John, in earnest now. He squared up with him and said, “You come with us, with me, that safety net is yours as well as mine. I want you to know that. We lucked out. Somehow, I don’t know. I lucked out, and I’m letting you in on that, free and clear, if it’s what you want.”

John took a deep breath. He was looking down into his cup, and they were listening to the piano. The room smelled like warm beer and cigars. John was nodding quickly to himself, as if making complex calculations in his mind.

“What’ll it be, Marston.”

“Okay,” he said, finally, affirmative. “What the hell.”

Arthur slammed his hand down on the table, a product of anticipation. “Very good,” he said. He held out his hand, John shook it. “It’s the right choice, John. I promise you.”

“I know,” said John. The handshake resolved and they both returned to their whiskey. John was turning the cup in his fingers.

“Not gonna lie. I thought you might be more stubborn.”

“I thought I’d have more pride about it, too,” John said, sipping, “but I don’t know. Lately, I don’t give a shit about pride. I just wanna do right by Abbie. I’ve hurt her too much. And she would want this. She’s gonna be real pleased when she hears.”

“I want you to know that this is unconditional,” said Arthur. “I ain’t wanting for you to pay me back, unless you can. I don’t care about that. It ain’t about me. It’s about you, and your family. I ain’t Dutch. You got that?”

John was staring at him, nodding his head. It seemed like he might start asking more questions—about Dutch, about Hosea, but for the time being, he skipped it. “I got it,” he said. “Thank you, Arthur.”        

“You’re goddam welcome.” He threw back his whiskey in a single gulp, signaled to the barkeep for another. The barkeep gave him a mean look, shook his head, and went back to shining his glass.

“Jesus,” said Arthur.

“They really hate us here.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Hey, Arthur,” said John.

“Yeah.” He was reaching in his pocket for a couple dollars to wave in the air.

“I just—I wanted to say something else, if that’s okay.”

“Shoot.”

“It ain’t about the money, or the going with you to California. I’m all in on that.”

“What’s it about?

“I just wanted to say that…I think you’re a changed man,” said John. It was like falling off a cliff. It came fast and unexpected. “You seem changed.”

Arthur gave him a look. “How so?”

“I don’t know,” said John, like he was feeling stupid. He usually said what he felt. He just wasn’t so good at words, and with Arthur, this tended to embarrass him. “I mean, you’ve always been there for me, even if you hated every minute of it. I get it. I been kind of a piece of shit these past few years.”

“It’s okay. I been there, too.”

“But you—” John continued, “you just seem real sure of yourself these days. That’s all. In a good way. And I don’t mean on the job. You’ve always been sure of yourself on the job—to an annoying degree. I just mean, like you know who you are, and you’re okay with it. Things ain’t always been like that for you. It’s not easy. You know?”

Arthur looked down into the empty glass. He felt warm, though he hid it well. He said, “Yeah, well. I’ve had a lot of positive reinforcement these past few months. Turns out it works wonders.”

“Turns out,” said John. “Anyway, I’m gonna go give this bartender a piece of my goddamn mind.”

“No violence,” said Arthur. “We got business in town.”

“Yeah, yeah.” John went over to the bar. Arthur watched closely as John cussed out the barkeep, plain and simple, and then in crass, but diplomatic fashion, placed five dollars on the counter. Then the barkeep, wide-eyed and furious, gave him a whole bottle of bourbon and told him to get the fuck out and to never come back. “Never come back!” he said. John laughed at him, returned with the bottle, looking like a dog that had just dug a bone. Arthur was none too disappointed, and they left. They camped outside the town on a muddy creek and fished their dinner, like old times. After the meal, they got piss drunk and high off a bunch of hash cigarettes, made plans they would not remember by morning, and passed out when the moon was still high. The next day, they road into the bayou, brought in the bounty, alive, with very little trouble, made a $500 return, handed to them by the surly Sheriff in question.

“You boys come back in the future,” said the Sheriff, chomping on a cigar. “It has been a real pleasure.”

“Maybe,” said John, counting the bills. “Maybe not.”

They split the take down the middle.

“Awake, dear heart,” said Abigail. “Awake.”

Back in Albert’s room, above the saloon, while Jack slept on the couch, wrecked from a long day in the sun, they were reading Shakespeare by the light of the lanterns—The Tempest. Abigail read slowly, but with encouragement, she was better than she thought she was.

“Keep going,” said Albert. “You’re doing very well.”

“Thou hast slept well,” she continued, pleased. She liked the play. It was strange. She didn’t know old writing like that could have so much magic. Then, she paused for a moment, set the book down in her lap. She seemed to sense the future. She looked at Albert and said, “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he said.

She glanced toward the door, smiled once. It was spurs, in the hall.

[babbushka]

Two Doves (1/6)

Drafted into a war he didn’t want to fight, Flip Zimmerman comes home to a country that doesn’t want him. With your help, he works through it all. 

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k Warnings: (Graphic description of violence, gun violence, war, angst)

                                                     -----------------

If he never sees a palm tree again, it’ll be too soon, Flip thinks as he watches, waits with bated breath as helicopters fly by.

The birds don’t even have a chance to fly away before the bright orange of a line of explosions burns into the jungle. The people don’t have a chance either, but then again, they never did. No one ever did.

The sky goes black with napalm and smoke, and Flip has to look away.

“Soft May mists are here again.

There, the war goes on.

Beside the privet the creamy

white tulips are extra

fine this year. There,

foliage curls blackened back:

it will, it must

return. But when?

A cardinal enchants me

with its song…”

 Flip wipes the sweat from his brow, squints against the sun. The jungle is harsh, unforgiving. He shouldn’t be here. He’s there anyway, been there for two whole years. His DEROS is almost here, all he has to do is hold on a little longer. Just a little longer and he’ll be coming home to you.

Just the thought of you makes him sigh, as quiet as he can anyway. He doesn’t know who the fuck is around, doesn’t know if they’re friend or foe. Two years and he still doesn’t know. He thinks of you, thinks of your smile, of your laugh. He thinks of the tapes you send him, the voice messages he plays over and over again on the little cassette player he���s got shoved in his backpack.

He wipes the sweat from his brow.

They’re trudging, really that’s the only word for it. Waist-deep in the muddy water of a river, surrounded by humidity so thick he sometimes feels like he can’t breathe. He’s filthy, exhausted, and angry as all hell. He’s so angry, that he’s there. So angry.

He wants a cigarette, wants a drink.

He wants you.

Instead he’s here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the blazing sun and too much green, death at any moment, the fear of it keeping him awake at night. He can’t afford to stay awake at night, not like this, not with conditions like these.

He’s got the sun in his face, a pack on his back that’s fifty-pounds easy, and a gun in his hand that he didn’t think he’d ever have to shoot. He hasn’t eaten anything not from a can in months, hasn’t had a hot shower in even longer.

Two years. Two years he’d been here, Flip thinks to himself with a grimace. It was only supposed to be one, but it’s two.

His fellow Marines start to slow down, the water rising as the river-bed grows deeper. Some of these soldiers are boys, too young. Flip feels old standing next to them, next to these kids who can’t be more than nineteen, twenty. He’s thirty-five, and the boys look up to him. He wishes they didn’t.

“Are you excited?” One of them, a sweet kid named Eric, asks.

Eric’s got bright eyes and a crooked nose, and a gap in his teeth that means he can whistle louder than anyone else in the squadron. He doesn’t of course, not unless they’re in a village or a city or somewhere they can breathe for two fucking minutes. Eric can play cards like no one else can, has won more cigarettes playing poker than he probably should.

Eric got his hand blown off three weeks ago and was still waiting to be brought back home.

“For what?” Flip replies. He makes sure to keep his voice low, makes sure not to talk too loud. He doesn’t know who might hear.

“To go home, to your wife.” Eric smiles, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s harder and harder to find smiles these days.

“Yeah, I am.” Flip says back, and just to humor him, takes out the pocket-watch from his jacket.

The watch belonged to Flip’s father who fought in World War 2, it used to have a picture of Flip’s mother on the inside, but now it held a picture of you.

You’re smiling in the picture, it’s a portrait of you from your wedding day. Flip had insisted on snapping an image of you, and he was glad that he did. The corners were all worn from how much he rubbed his finger along the edges of it.

Eric leans over and takes a look at you. He always says you’re pretty and Flip always agrees.

“What’s she like?” Eric asks, scanning the trees for snipers, wading in the water.

“She’s funny. Really smart too.” Flip replies, and Eric chuckles.

“Smarter than you?” He asks, always full of questions in that way teenagers are.

“Fuck yeah, way smarter than me. Do you see her here?” Flip tries to be light-hearted, but it sort of fails.

Eric chuckles again anyway.

Flip’s squadron walks through the river, holds their guns above their heads so nothing gets wet. Flip’s thankful that it’s not raining today, not pouring on their heads. Instead he’s just got the sun that filters through the green trees, the sun that shines in his eyes. They trudge on.

“Did she send you more tapes?” Eric asks, hope in his voice.

You send the squadron something every chance you get, every fucking chance, and Flip is grateful for it. Twice a month he gets letters, a package, and most importantly, cassette tapes from you. He’s always amazed at how much shit you can cram into a container no bigger than a shoebox, but you do it.

The letters he keeps for himself, the tapes are 50/50. You always send four, four small black cassette tapes that you’ve recorded yourself. Two are just you, just talking. Telling him about your day, telling him about home.

Sometimes you tell him good things, sometimes you tell him bad things. That’s life, you always say, good and bad things. He listens to them over and over again, memorizes the messages, pictures your face making the shapes of the letters, pictures how your eyes shine as you talk.

The third one is music, always music. Always a new song, never any repeats. A mix of things that are popular back home, popular around the country. Flip’s told you he plays those during the day when things are calm and there’s no immediate threat. You took that as inspiration to broaden your horizons, keeping up with the popular music all across the country as opposed to just Colorado Springs. You said you wanted to boys to have some link to home, even a thousand miles away.  

The fourth one is you reading out loud, usually a collection of poems, or a passage from a book. He likes to play those for the boys at night, it helps them sleep. If he was being honest, it helps Flip sleep, but he shares it for the boys. It reminds them of a mother they don’t have anymore reading a bedtime story. When they hear you speak, it’s not like they’re sleeping in the jungle, or in a hut somewhere in the dirt – it’s like they’re home in bed.

“Yeah, I’ll play them when we settle for the day.” Flip says after all that, and Eric beams.

“Keep moving.” His commander shouts, making Flip wince.

He casts his eyes upwards to the tops of trees, knowing that the enemy could be hiding and they wouldn’t know it.

They wouldn’t know it.

  “…All war is wrong. The grass

here is green and buttoned

down with dandelions. A car

goes by. What peace. It–

the war–goes on. Fleeing

people. The parrot tulips

look like twisted guts.

Blood on green.

Here, a silent scream…”

 It’s dark, nighttime, finally.

They’ve settled in the mud for the eighth night in a row, and Flip thinks to himself he can’t wait for a bed. He should be on the helicopter tomorrow, he thinks to himself as he lays awake in the dark, lying on his back. He thinks of all the good things he’ll have when he’s home, a hot meal, a clean pair of socks. He thinks about the station, how CSPD is getting along without him. He thinks about his favorite brand of coffee in the percolator, thinks about the mountains.  

He closes his eyes, thinks about you. It’s the only thing that keeps him sane anymore.

In his mind’s eye, you’re wearing that white dress he loves you in. You’re laughing at something he said, at one of his snide remarks about something on the news. In his mind, you’re eating frozen grapes, slicing them between your front teeth and offering him half. He takes it straight out of your mouth with his own teeth, kisses you in the process.

In his mind’s eye, you smile against his lips and kiss him back, weaving your hands together. His were so much larger than yours, and you loved that, often pressing the palms together to make a note of the difference. Flip could curl his hand around yours easily, and he does then.

In the real world, things aren’t as nice. He’s mostly angry, mostly annoyed. He hates being here, pissed at the draft.

He wishes he had gone to college, wishes he had done something other than go straight to work after high school. But he had wanted to start a family with you right away, wanted to marry you and buy you a house and and and.

You weren’t happy, when barely two years into the marriage he was whisked away by the draft. You weren’t happy, and that made his stomach turn more than any of the violence he saw here.

There’s the soft call of the jungle all around him, and all around him are anxious boys who can’t sleep. Flip plays your tape, they listen to your poetry, until –

“Fuck – everyone get – ” His commander shouts, cut off by the sound of a gurgle.  

Bullets whizz past, startling everyone into action. They’ve been found, of course they had been. Flip’s already shooting back before he really can process what’s happening. He thinks of you as the sound of his gun echoes in his brain, the flash from the firing causing his vision to go spotty.

They were so close to the nearest village, so fucking close, Flip thought as he fired his gun, finger squeezed on the trigger tight, mowing down whatever and whoever he could. So close to being at the base, to getting on a fucking helicopter and heading home.

That’s all he wants anymore, is to head home, to head to you.

“On your left!” One of the other boys, Sam screams, alerts Flip to the man creeping up near him.

He kills him, he and Sam and Eric all back to back, just fucking shooting and shooting.

Your voice is still playing on the cassette tape player, it fucks him up to hear it against all the fucking chaos. It was just quiet a minute ago, how the fuck was it so loud? Screaming, so much screaming, both sides wounding one another.

Flip hated war, hated it as he fired round upon round into the fucking dark, hated it as the dirty sweat dripped into his eyes, down the tip of his nose. Hated it as he ran out of ammo, as he had to duck behind a tree and reload.

He hated it as his hands didn’t shake anymore, reloading the gun.

There’s running, so much running. They can’t stay, not where they are. But they can’t see either, pitch black in the middle of the night. Flip grabbed the cassette player and shoved it in his pocket and ran, hoped that the boys kept up with him.

No one is giving orders – there aren’t any to give, none except shoot and hope they don’t shoot you.

So, Flip shoots.

After what seems like hours, it’s quiet again.

They’re all panting, all of them who are left standing.

“Sound off!” Flip shouts, because he’s the only one who can. “Zimmerman.” He starts, waiting for the others to make themselves known, mark themselves as alive.

“Costell.” Eric shouts.

“Daniels.” Sam continues.

“Rocco.”

“Marques.”

“Dereon.”

One by one the squadron calls out their name, but Flip is listening to the silence in between it.

Half their men are dead, including their commander.

Everything is fucked.

Your voice still sounds on the cassette player.

  “Can we, in simple justice,

desert our sought allies?

Draw out: I do not know.

I know the war is wrong.

We have it in us

to triumph over hate and

death, or so

the suburban spring suggests.”

 The plane ride back home is long, but Flip’s never been more grateful.

It’s a twenty-hour flight to Denver, and then an hour bus ride to Colorado Springs.

He’s out of the jungle and into the sky, but it all feels the same to him, reminds him of another helicopter ride. But this time, he’s clean, in a clean formal uniform, and the lack of mud in between his toes is a blessing that Flip can’t deny.  

“Where are you headed?” A man seated next to him asks.

It’s a flight full of soldiers, all heading home to their own towns, their own cities. No one else is staying in Colorado, Flip is sure of it, from all their accents.

The man next to him has an eye-patch on and a crooked smile, an attempt at friendliness in a situation where something like that was lost in the vacuum of terror.

“Colorado Springs, home to my wife.” Flip responds, and fuck the thought of it actually happening has his heart pounding in his chest. He looks to the man next to him and gives the courtesy of asking back, “You?”

“Wife and kids waiting for me back in Oklahoma.” The man grins happily, “You have any kids of your own?”

“No not yet.” Flip answers, feeling old. This man must not be much older than him, early thirties just like him, and already with two kids.

Flip feels like he’s wasted a lot of time, fighting in this fucking war.

The man shakes his head, noting Flip’s souring expression.

“Believe me it’s better off that way, nothing like the guilt of a kid who misses their dad.” He tsks, smile fading.

“How old?” Flip is compelled to ask, just because there is something so freeing about talking about anything other than the war.

“Seven and five, here,” The man pulls out a small photograph from his breast pocket, hands it to Flip. “That’s them, and my wife, Imani.”

They look so happy, in the picture, wearing their Sunday best.

“You have a gorgeous family.” Flip says honestly, pulling out the pocketwatch, opens it and shows your picture to this man, shows it to anyone and everyone he meets. “This is my wife, (Y/N).”

“I’m happy to say the same about yours.” The man’s smile returns, and Flip takes a breath. “Are you going straight home?” He asks, and Flip nods.

“It’s a Wednesday, so she’s going to be at the grocery store, and then the dry cleaners. She’s not going to get home until four o’clock or something, and I’m supposed to get home at three, so I’m hoping to surprise her.” Flip knew your schedule like the back of his hand, and recited it easily.

He had a whole plan, was praying that the timing would work out and that he’d be home and he’d be there to greet you.

“She doesn’t know you’re coming home this early?” The man asks, making Flip huff out a nervous laugh.

“No, I didn’t want to give her a date and then crush her hopes if it didn’t happen.” He explains and the man makes a sound of realization.  

“I bet she’ll be thrilled.” He says.

“I’m hoping.” Flip says back, the conversation coming to a comfortable silence.

  “…Here, the drive is wet

with mist. There,

the war goes on. Children

are more valuable than

flowers: what a choice

to make! The war

must end. It goes on.

That was May 1972, by James Schuyler. Come home to me soon, I love you.”

 The voice recording stops, just as the taxi cab pulls up to the house.

He’s been listening to it over and over, listening to it so much the tape has started to worn down. The flight had been grueling, the bus ride even more so, but the taxi ride was the thing that made him the most nervous.

What if he pulled up and you were already there? What if he pulled up and you weren’t, but you didn’t come home? What if you had plans for the evening, what if you didn’t want to see him anymore, what if you hated him, what if what if what if –

The taxi cab pulls up to the house, and your car isn’t there in the driveway. His car and his truck both are under a sheet, kept protected from the dust and the snow and the rain. He had missed the snow.

Flip gets out, thanks the driver who says nothing in return.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, fishing out his wallet, ready to pay this man just about anything.

“I don’t want any of your blood money.” The man surprises him by saying with such anger in his voice that it’s all he can do not to punch the glass out of the divider.

Flip gets out, stunned by the response. He has his small suitcase of personal items, and that’s about it. The taxi drives away.

He doesn’t has his house keys on him – why would he? – so he crouches down and finds the spare hidden under a fake rock, uses it to unlock the door.

Stepping over the threshold is like a smack to the face, and before he knows it, he’s crying.

He spent so much time thinking about being home, he had almost forgotten what home was even like, and now, stepping into the foyer, it all became real to him that this wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t in his mind’s eye, this was real.

There was the wonky floorboard that always creaked if you put too much pressure on it. There was the big tan couch and the glass coffee table and the soft rug by the fireplace. He ran his hand along the wall as he walked the familiar path to the kitchen, and tears are dripping down his cheek as he lifts the glass cover of the cake stand and steals a chocolate chip cookie.

It had been years since he’d had a cookie.

He looks at the clock, exactly where it’s always been, and it chimes at four, exactly as it always does.

Flip freezes when he hears the front door open, swallows the cookie so fast he’s afraid he’s going to choke, stands in the middle of the kitchen and doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Two years in the war, and he suddenly feels like a teenager again, not knowing what to do with his hands.

He wonders how you’ve changed, because of course you’ve changed in the two years he’s been gone. He wonders how long your hair is, what you’re wearing. He wonders what you’ve been eating, what you’ve been watching. You tell him in your voice messages, but that’s only twice out of the month; he wants to know everything, wants to hear all of it.

You enter the kitchen and you freeze at the sight of him, you drop the bags of groceries like you’ve seen a ghost.

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, and he can’t stop the tears of relief from flowing as he takes in the sight of you; you look exhausted but you’re healthy, you’re alive, you’re in front of him in your home that you share with him and you’re wearing his flannel tucked into your skirt. You’re wearing his clothes.

Something about the sight of you in his clothes make his knees go weak and he’s afraid he’s going to fall.

“Flip?” You whisper, don’t dare talk too loudly.

He wonders what’s going on in your head, but all he can think about is you’re here, you still want him, you still love him.

“Hi ketsl.” Flip whispers back, and just like that you’re crossing the room and crying in his arms.

Just like that you’re holding him tight and kissing him, kissing him like you never thought you’d kiss him again. You’re practically climbing him, jumped up onto him and wrapping your legs around his waist, kissing and kissing and kissing him.

Just like that, he lets himself cry, lets himself bury his face into your neck and breathe in the smell of you, smells the citrus and the familiar laundry detergent and shampoo.

Just like that Flip finally feels at peace.

Just like that, Flip’s home.

                                                     ----------------------

Taglist! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the list i really never know who to add to these things so i’m sorry if this isn’t a story you’d like to read, please just let me know and i’ll take you off! <3 @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets   @fullofbees @spinebarrel @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler 

[daniellesimagines]

High Noon (Maxx Danziger) - Part 8

word count: 1641 requested by: none pronouns: she/her warnings: none fandom: set it off, choices au type: cowboy summary: after your car breaks down in the middle-of-nowhere montana, a cute cowboy comes to your rescue inspired by: "Big Sky Country" on the Choices app authors notes: i hope u all liked this series as much as i enjoyed writing it!!!!! other parts: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

Your POV; Later that night

You leaned back in your desk chair, happy to finally be done with all of your school work-prep. The clock on your nightstand read 10pm, and while it was fun while it lasted, you knew you'd spend the next hour or so lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering why Maxx had done what he did. 

It didn't make any sense to you – you thought you finally found someone who was genuinely interested in you – and you couldn't help but let it keep you up the night before, and no doubt this night either.

You turned off your desk lamp and got up to get changed into your pajamas, but a knock on the door stopped you. You thought it was weird – you could have sworn everyone went to bed already – and hurried over to answer it. 

And of the three other people in the house, it was the only one you didn't want to see.

"Before ya go slammin' the door on me, please come with me," Maxx begging, holding his hand up for you to take, "I know y're still mad at me, but I promise it'll be worth y'r while."

You eyed him skeptically for a moment before slowly placing your hand in his. He smiled brightly – happy you hadn't rejected him – and tugged you along to his surprise.

Once you were out of the house, you quickly came to realize that you were taking the same path you had already – the same path to the lake where Maxx stood you up. But before you could tear your hand out of his and go back home, you noticed a setup that hadn't been there before.

There was a blanket near the lake's edge, two sandwiches in bags and a small bowl of grapes already laid out and waiting for you. You looked over at Maxx and noticed him already watching you, nervously waiting for your reaction.

"What are you doing, Maxx?" you asked softly. He simply smiled.

"Wanted a picnic by the water, didn't ya?" he asked, though he obviously already knew the answer.

"You texted me at noon yesterday..."

"Lake looks prettier at night," he said, leading you to the blanket, "Unless ya wanna wait 'til tomorrow."

"And have you stand me up again?" you grumbled. Maxx's expression fell a bit but he quickly shook it off, having you sit down.

He handed you one of the sandwiches, both of you taking them out of the bags at the same time. He held up his and looked at you, causing you to let out a hum of amusement as you toasted the sandwich and started eating. It was pretty quiet – neither of you really too sure what to say – until you were finished eating. You brushed the crumbs off of your hands while Maxx reached in for a piece of fruit.

You watched him toss a grape into the air and try to catch it in his mouth, but it missed and bounced off his cheek and rolled off into the grass beside the blanket instead. You quickly looked away so he didn't see your growing smile, but he noticed anyway.

"Think that's funny, darlin'?" he asked with a serious tone but you could still hear the playfulness, "I reckon I'd like to see you do any better."

You looked back up as Maxx reached for another grape. He tossed it up in the air in your direction, rolling his eyes when you followed it so it landed right in your mouth.

"Alright, darlin'," he said, obviously trying to hold back a grin, "No one likes a showoff."

"Says the person who spends 8 seconds holding onto a wild animal for fun," you retorted, raising your eyebrows quizzically.

"Well, I been practicin' my whole life to be in rodeos."

"And maybe I've been practicing my whole life to be able to catch a grape in my mouth," you stuck your tongue out at him. He laughed in response while you looked up at the stars above you.

Maxx couldn't help but admire you – though you were still upset with him, he was just thankful that you agreed to come with him, even if you didn't know what he had planned. You were so different from the other people he'd known his whole life, and even though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, it was an incredibly nice change from his usual interactions.

As he was watching you, he noticed your expression falter slightly. Normally, it would have worried him, but he'd come to realize that it just meant you were thinking about something, and that you'd talk about it when you were ready. And while he typically had to wait a bit for that to happen, he was surprised when this time around, it only took a few minutes.

"This was a nice date, Maxx," you admitted, your voice barely even coming out, "Thanks for doing this for me."

"Don't have to end it jus' yet, darlin'," he told you. You furrowed your eyebrows, your gaze following him as he stood up. "What do y'say to some dancin'?" he asked.

"There's no music," you shook your head. Maxx simply smiled, reaching down and grabbing your hands to pull you up with him.

"Don't need music, darlin'," he insisted.

Maxx brought your arms around his neck before moving his own to your waist. He hugged you close to him, honestly a bit surprised when you wrapped your arms around his neck the rest of the way and laid your head on his shoulder – but he certainly wasn't complaining. He could feel a faint heartbeat where your chests were pressed together, and he felt a sense of calmness rush through him at feeling your breaths hitting the side of his neck as you both swayed to the sounds of the wilderness around you.

"Jus' need you," he murmured.

"You're such a sap, Danziger," you whispered. You felt Maxx's stomach shake as he chuckled softly.

"Only for you, darlin'," he pressed a loving kiss to the side of your head.

You slow danced to the sounds of the crickets chirping and leaves rustling in the wind for a while. It was nice to just be with Maxx, even if you were still hurt by his actions from the previous day. You didn't know why he would do what he did only to make up for it the very next evening, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't enjoying yourself. 

Though, you didn't have to wait much longer for an explanation.

"I never asked ya to meet me here yesterday," Maxx mumbled randomly, making you furrow your eyebrows and lift your head to look at him.

"But you-"

"Kayleigh took my phone while I was helpin' Asha in the backroom... I really didn't ask ya to meet me, honest... Could never do that to ya..." You were silent – you should have known it was her – so he went on. "Y'know, darlin'... Bein' here seems to be givin' ya more trouble than it's worth," he said softly, "Don't think I'd blame ya if ya changed y'r mind and went to California after all - 'specially with Kayleigh still 'round ruinin' everything..."

"You're worth the trouble..." you whispered, squeezing him slightly.

Maxx had been looking down, but his head snapped back up when you spoke. He stared at you in surprise as you continued, not even noticing the expression since you refused to meet his gaze, your own eyes now on the collar of his shirt.

"Guess I've learned to accept that I'd do anything for you now..." you swallowed, "Don't really have guys like you in Boston; Can't imagine guys like you are in California... Pretty sure there are no guys like you anywhere... Never met someone who cared so much – about the little things, about family, about neighbors, about animals, about me... Think I'd be stupid to let that go over some grown woman still hung up on high school..." 

The only sounds for a moment were that of the crickets and trees, but Maxx quickly snapped out of his speechless state.

"Hey, darlin'..." he trailed off. You finally looked at him, but it didn't last for long. 

The second your head was tilted toward him, his lips were pressed to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

You'd honestly been imagining kissing Maxx for so long that it felt like a dream you were finally doing it. You never felt the way he made you feel before, and you were sure you'd never feel that way without him.

Maxx was like your calm in the middle of a thunderstorm, and your safe place when everything else felt like too much to handle. There was never a moment you were with him that you felt like you didn't belong or that you weren't good enough. He was incredible at making sure you knew you were safe and cared for and that you could talk to him about anything that was on your mind. You never really believed in fate or destiny or any of that, but you definitely believed your car was meant to break down in this little Montana town.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you realized your lungs were running out of air. You quickly broke the kiss and inhaled sharply, watching the content expression grow on Maxx's face as he opened his eyes to look at you fondly.

"Think y'd be stupid to let me go too, darlin'," he mentioned, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully before kissing him again.

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

other parts: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight

anyway i'd like to fall in love with a cowboy now pls and thank u

master list / master list for mobile users

you can also check out my last imagine here, my to do list to see what’s coming up, and click here to go to the page for my calum fic :)

Other cowboy AUs: Marshall / Maxx

Other “Choices” AUs: Calum / Maxx

taglist: @calumhoodslays @vendylewin @lunalove25 @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @maurine5sos @rachellwrites@itkindajusthappenedreally @breathinginthevapor @double-tap-to-edit @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you@silverchainbee@disastrxlogy@softboycal@5saucewho@mycollectionofnuts@sunnysidesblog

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

[psychosistr]

Beneath the Stars with a Star

Jonawagon Week- Day 5: Date Night

Summary: After their previous debacle of a night out, Speedwagon meets Jonathan for a much more low-key outing.

Speedwagon did one last mental-checklist to make sure he had everything he’d need for the night as he stepped out of the carriage, payed the cabbie, gathered his things, and walked towards the spot he’d told Jonathan to meet him at.

Hair properly brushed? Check.

Suit neatly pressed and cleaned? Check.

Basket for tonight packed? Check.

Running a few minutes early so as not to keep Jonathan waiting? (He checked his pocket watch to be sure.) Check.

Alright, everything seemed to be in order. Now all that was left was to get everything set out before Jonathan arrived.

He walked until he spotted the river bank and found the perfect spot with a clear view of the stars above them. “This’ll do nicely.” He said to himself as he set down the basket he’d brought with him and began to pull different items out of it for the evening.

Their last date night had been derailed due to an incident regarding some former acquaintances of Speedwagon’s, a fight, and the pair of lovers running away before they were caught by anyone. While they still ended up having a beautiful evening that involved dancing late at night in a park and grabbing a bite to eat at a less well-known but still delicious restaurant that was open late for all manner of men who stumbled in at the wee hours of the morning, Speedwagon still felt a bit guilty for being the indirect cause of their ruined plans. So, to make up for their previous attempt, Speedwagon proposed a bit of a do-over date- this time closer to where Jonathan lived so as not to risk running into anyone that Speedwagon knew again.

The plan this time was a late-night picnic by the river. Something simple, quiet, and romantic with just the two of them out in the middle of nowhere where they wouldn’t have to worry about being seen. Speedwagon had handled all of the preparations himself- picking the place and time, providing the food, and even arranging for a carriage to pick Jonathan up and bring him there so he wouldn’t get lost or arrive too early.

As usual when it came to Jonathan, Speedwagon fretted entirely too much to make sure everything was as perfect as it could be. He knew that Jonathan didn’t mind if something wasn’t perfect. He knew that Jonathan would be happy with anything they did or anywhere they went. He knew that he probably didn’t have to try so hard to impress the nobleman, but he WANTED to do so of his own volition.

Jonathan was an amazing man who had changed Speedwagon’s life in so many ways that he could never properly thank him for. He owed his life to the man and loved him more than he’d ever loved anyone in his entire life (though Erina was quickly becoming a close second, such a marvel of a woman, she was). Jonathan made him want to be a better person, made him feel genuinely proud of himself for once in his life, and that was something that the former thug felt could never be repaid even if he spent the rest of his life attempting to do so…

Just as Speedwagon finished setting everything up for their evening, he heard Jonathan’s voice calling to him. “Speedwagon!” He looked up and saw the nobleman approaching him wearing a much more casual outfit than he’d worn for their last date night- a more comfortable pair of pants fit for walking about by the river and a simple button-up shirt that was much more breathable than the one for his suit would have been. “I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He greeted with a smile once he’d reached the blonde.

Speedwagon chuckled- leave it to Jonathan to still think he was running late, even though Speedwagon himself hired the cabbie that brought him here. “Not at all- you’re right on time, love.” He stepped aside to reveal the blanket he’d set down on the grass as well as the sit-upon cushions he’d brought and the small feast he’d prepared- mostly a bottle of wine, some breads and cheeses, a few fruits such as apples and grapes, some cured meats, and an assortment of small pastries he’d picked up from a bakery earlier that morning. “I know it ain’t a fancy opera ‘ouse an’ a gourmet dinin’ hall, but I think it’ll do jus’ fine, if I do say so meself.”

Jonathan gave him a fond, loving smile that sent Speedwagon’s heart aflutter. “It looks wonderful, darling.”

That simple comment and smile was worth every pound Speedwagon spent on their meal and all the fretting he’d done up to this point. Jonathan was pleased with what he’d done and that made everything he could ever do worthwhile.

They sat together and ate the small meal while talking about anything at all that came to mind. Jonathan told him about how Erina was looking forward to seeing him again and that all three of them should go out together again sometime, to which Speedwagon happily agreed. Speedwagon in turn told Jonathan about the new job he’d found in town and that, while it didn’t pay much, it did allow him to travel occasionally if he so desired- it was a small trading company that mostly dealt with shipments to America and Italy, but the luxury and thrill of travel was something he’d never turn down as he always enjoyed seeing new places.

By the time they’d finished eating and put everything but the blanket and cushions back into the basket, the two men had decided to lie back together and gaze up at the stars. Jonathan was lying on his back with his head resting on one of the cushions while Speedwagon himself was lying with his head on Jonathan’s shoulder, one of those incredibly strong arms curled tenderly around him to hold him close. Jonathan would point up at the sky and select a constellation and Speedwagon would tell him the name of it as well as any other places he’d been in where he’d seen those stars before.

“You’ve certainly done quite a bit of traveling, Robert.” Jonathan commented after Speedwagon told him a story about a trip to China. “I will admit that I’m quite envious of your experiences.”

Speedwagon turned his head to the side so he could look at Jonathan’s face a bit easier. “Well..if y’ wanna travel some time..I could show y’ ‘round a few places I’ve been, or we could even go somewhere new. I bet I could pull some strings at work t’ get us passage somewhere. Name where y’ wanna go an’ I’ll find a way t’ make it ‘appen.”

Jonathan turned his head as well so he could look down into Speedwagon’s earnest gaze. “Really? Well, a trip would be wonderful. Actually, Erina and I were discussing the idea of going to America for our honeymoon. The three of us could go there together for a vacation.” He suggested with a smile that grew more excited with each word.

“Sounds like a fine idea t’ me.” Speedwagon had only been to America in passing before and would like to explore the so-called “land of opportunity” and see if it was as great as the people there made it sound. “I think we’d all ‘ave a grand ol’ time there. ‘course, if it’s for your honeymoon, we can’t go there on the same boat- it’d look too odd bringin’ your best man along for a romantic getaway. I’ll see if I can go there through work or somethin’ an’ meet y’ over there.”

“Oh..right..” Jonathan’s smile fell slightly at Speedwagon’s observant suggestion. His eyes were cast downward and it broke Speedwagon’s heart to see his beloved look so disheartened.

He turned over onto his stomach so that he could lie on top of Jonathan and place a gentle hand on his cheek. “ ‘ey now, there’s no need t’ look so glum, Jojo. We’ll still get t’ be t’gether an’ ‘ave a marvelous time.”

“I know..” Jonathan sighed after a moment, his arms coming up to gently wrap around Speedwagon. “I just…I wish we didn’t have to be so secretive about everything. No one bats an eye when Erina and I go out for dinner or stroll down the street with our fingers laced, but if I tried to do the same with you they would threaten us with imprisonment or even death. It’s not fair at all…you’re just as important to me as Erina, why can I not show you the same affection and care I do to her without fear? There is nothing wrong with our love, and yet I know we would be condemned to a horrible fate if anyone found out. I do not care what happens to me, but I could not bear the thought of you being harmed because of me…”

Speedwagon’s eyes softened in understanding. He understood Jonathan’s pain all too well. It was a pain he’d dealt with his whole life, loving someone you know you can never be with publicly else they could be arrested or put to death. To the younger man this was still a new concept to him, as they only ones he’d ever loved were Erina and Speedwagon himself. Speedwagon, on the other hand, had had his fair share of crushes, flings, and relationships over the years. He’d dealt with the heartbreak of severing ties with someone for their own safety as well as the pain of being cast aside so the one he cared for could protect himself. He often feared the same would happen between himself and Jonathan one day, and, if it came to his own life and happiness versus Jonathan’s well-being, he knew he would pick the latter every time. That being said, he would fight fate tooth and nail for as long as possible to remain in Jonathan’s life.

“I know the feelin’, love.” Speedwagon comforted his partner with a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve gone through this ‘nough times t’ know ‘ow much it ‘urts. Still..” He raised his head up so they could lock eyes properly. “I’d give up anythin’ in the world t’ spend as much time as possible t’gether. Even if it ‘as t’ be in secret, I wouldn’ trade these moments for all the riches in the world. I love y’, Jonathan. For as long as we’re both able, I ain’t ever gonna leave y’.”

“Robert..” Jonathan smiled softly up at Speedwagon, his eyes shining in the moonlight and it was hard to tell if it was simply their own beautiful glow or if it was from unshed tears catching the pale light. Either way, the look in them spoke louder than Jonathan’s own voice ever could. “I love you too, Robert.” He held the blonde tightly, but not painfully so, in his strong arms. “And I swear, on my life and pride as a Joestar, that I will never allow anything or anyone to separate us. If that means we have to leave the country one day for being caught or live as fugitives, then so be it. My heart knows what it desires and I shall not go against it.” He then brought Speedwagon down for a deep, loving kiss filled with passion and adoration.

Speedwagon melted into the kiss, twining his own arms around the nobleman to hold onto him tightly. He did not know what their future would hold. He did not know if they would be able to keep up this secret forever. But, there was one thing that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt:

He loved Jonathan Joestar and would do anything for him.

If that meant leaving their home country or living a life on the run with just himself, Jonathan, and Erina, then so be it. He had friends all over the world that would help hide them if they needed it. As long as Jonathan wanted them to stay together, he would do anything in his power to grant that desire. They could go anywhere on this planet and it would be home for Speedwagon, as long as Jonathan was there with him.

So long as the stars burned brightly in the sky, they would find a way to stand beneath them together.

[setepenre-set]

Pleasant Is the Fairyland  (chapter 9)

Megamind/Roxanne

T rating, Labyrinth AU

The Goblin King Megamind is running out of time–he must take a consort. The King declares he will have no one but Roxanne Ritchi—and so Roxanne finds herself whirled away from her unfulfilling, ordinary life…to the Labyrinth, at the center of which is a secret, the King promises, if she can find it. A secret with the power to save a world, or to condemn it to Nothingness.

AO3  |  FFN

(links disabled so this will show up in the tumblr search tool. I’m going to reblog momentarily with the links; look for it in the notes)

____________________________________________________ 

The Goblin King’s eyes flickered open and Roxanne’s face swam into focus above him, her blue eyes looking down into his with an expression somewhere between concern and relief.

Disoriented as he was, it took him several moments to figure out what was happening. It wasn’t until he felt her legs shift very slightly beneath his shoulders, felt her hand slip beneath his neck to cradle the back of his head, that he realized his head was actually in her lap.

The realization froze him in place and the overwhelming flood of sensation whited out his thoughts in a rush of warmth and softness. Her thumb stroked gently across the back of his neck, over the curve of where it met his neck and—

The Goblin King sat up so quickly that his forehead barely missed colliding with Roxanne’s, only her instinctive reflex of jerking her own head back saving him from yet another concussion.

He regretted sitting up immediately, as what felt like all the blood in his body rushed up to his head, making black-winged butterflies dance at the edges of his vision—sable wings fluttering and multiplying, fluttering and multiplying until they threatened to blot out the world. 

—Roxanne’s voice, saying—saying something—something that—

The roaring of his blood in his ears became the hurricane wind of the black butterfly wings. He swayed in place and—

Oh, no, thought the Goblin King as he fainted for the second time.

He woke up again with her shouting at him.

“—swear to god if you don’t stop being so stupid I’m—”

The Goblin King squinted up at her blearily. His head wasn’t in her lap this time, thank the seas and stars for small favors. Instead he was lying flat on his black on the cool grass, with Roxanne kneeling on the ground next to him, bent over him. There was more anger than relief and concern in her expression this time, and her eyes glittered with rage.

“—going to kill you myself, you careless—”

The Goblin King made a weak noise of protest and Roxanne planted one hand on the center of his chest, pinning him in place and holding him there on the cool grass.

“Do not even think,” she snapped, “about sitting up like that again.”

The Goblin King made another weak noise, eyes wide. Roxanne made a low, growling noise of frustration and pressed down with slightly more force. The Goblin King’s breath caught.

“You,” she said, “are going to stay here, and I—” she glared at him, “am going to pick some more grapes. And when you have eaten them, we can discuss—discuss, mind you—the possibility of you sitting up. Got that?”

“Ah?” the Goblin King managed, breathless still at the force of her, at the storm of her protective anger.

“Fantastic,” she said, with even more vicious emphasis.

She took her hand away and paused for a moment, as if she were just waiting for him to try to get up against her orders. The Goblin King, however, was too stunned to make any attempt of the kind. 

Having apparently satisfied herself of his complete capitulation, Roxanne then stood up, gave him one last sharp look of warning, and then turned away to yank down bunch after bunch of grapes from the tree above them with what seemed to him to be an excess of force. 

The Goblin King remained meekly where he was during her massacre of the grape clusters, and he made no protest when she knelt down beside him and began pulling grapes off the clusters one at a time and thrusting them towards his mouth. He opened his mouth to receive them more out of self-defense than hunger.

He’d never realized before that it was possible to feed someone grapes vengefully.

“You,” Roxanne said, shoving another grape into his mouth, “are an idiot. You’re not well; you do realize that, don’t you? Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? The color of your skin?”

“—supposed to be like that,” he protested, voice weak.

“What, translucent?” she said sarcastically, her disbelief and impatience with his attempt at obfuscation clear. “Don’t deliberately misinterpret. I’m not talking about the fact that it’s blue. You look waxen. The dark circles under your eyes are so bad you look like you lost a fistfight and you weigh about as much as a housecat! Why don’t you take care of yourself?”

The Goblin King opened his mouth to protest again and she glared at him and pushed another grape into it before he could speak. 

“Carry some snacks around, for god’s sake,” she said. “These could have been toxic and I wouldn’t have known, since you were unconscious and I couldn’t ask you.”

“Not toxic,” he said, voice still dry and thready.

“Or enchanted,” she said.

“That either.”

“What a relief,” Roxanne said, spitting the words out like they were sharp things she’d like to stab him with.

He held out a hand as she started to feed him another grape. Roxanne narrowed her eyes at him, but she handed him the grape, watching him like a hawk. 

The Goblin King couldn’t stop his hand from shaking, but he managed, with great effort, not to drop the grape, and to successfully bring it up to his own mouth, place it between his lips, and chew. 

Roxanne gave a disapproving sniff, but she dropped the rest of the bunch on his chest and leaned back against the silvery bark of the nearest tree, devouring her own cluster of grapes as she watched him eat.

He’d meant, once he was finished eating the bunch of grapes, to sit up and prove to her how perfectly fine he was, but after he swallowed the last grape, he found he was too exhausted to even try. Instead he closed his eyes and sighed.

Just a moment of rest. Just a moment, and then he would get up and they would continue on their way. Just a—

He slept.

____________________________________________________

Roxanne saw the moment that the Goblin King slipped into sleep—slipped into sleep with a soft, relieved sigh, like someone slipping into a warm bath at the end of a very long and difficult day.

Which really only drove home how right she was about his general state of health—it hadn’t been anything like a long day, hadn’t even been a full one. And yet he looked exhausted. Beyond exhausted. Like someone losing a battle with a long-term terminal illness.

She sat very still and watched him sleep as the last of the sunlight faded and night fell, as some unseen things in the branches of the trees, insects perhaps, or maybe birds, began to sing, sweet and soft, like glass and crystal chimes stirred by the night wind. 

She looked up, then, and watched the sky as the stars came out, strangely close and disconcertingly rainbow colored, jewel-toned and bright. The moon came out as well, came out after the stars, full, very full and very large, much larger than it should be. 

At first Roxanne thought the size of the moon the reason why she felt so unsettled looking at it, but then she realized that the surface of it looked different than the moon she was accustomed to—smoother, without any of the large, predictable dark patches her eyes kept searching for. And yet something about it seemed…oddly familiar—not a completely alien thing, but something ordinary that had been warped.

(the dark side of the moon)

As the unsettling moon rose higher in the sky, the leaves of the trees began to shine like moonlight themselves, a steady, silver-white glow that dappled the dark grass and the face of the Goblin King, illumination and shadow.

The night was cool, but not cold, and at last Roxanne stirred, shaking herself slightly, as if shaking off the spell of the moon’s silver fascination. She glanced back down at the Goblin King, still sleeping, and then she sighed and reached for the clasp at the base of his throat, the one that held his collar and cape in place. 

Clasp and cape and collar parted beneath her hands, silk and leather unfurling at her touch like the petals of a strange, dark flower.

She spread the material of the cape beneath him like a blanket and lay down beside him on it. He made another of those soft sighing noises as she curled up beside him, and turned his face  towards hers. 

Roxanne placed one hand on his chest, palm-down, where she was able to feel his heartbeat, able to feel the rise and fall of his breath.

 After a time, her eyes slid shut and she slept as well.

____________________________________________________

…to be continued.

____________________________________________________ 

Day four of my birthday week celebrations! I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter. Thank you to @displacerghost​ for beta reading this...and also for giving me a (more gentle) version of Roxanne's lecture to the Goblin King about his health. I know you can tell that's where I got the description of how vividly ill he looks, Ghost—thank you for seeing me...and for saving me, my love.

[avengeultrons]

Title: Final Days of Summer (Reader x Peter Parker) 

Summary: Summer is coming to the end but the reader and Peter are both determined to make the most of every last moment together.

Word Count: 1830

A/N: If you’re reading this on Friday, August 3, I’m a camp counselor until the fifth and hopefully I’m having fun. LOL! Hope you guys enjoy! :) --

Summer was winding down to just a few hot weeks in the blazing heat, the final days of lingering golden sunshine. You had two weeks until school started, two weeks of bike rides to the lake where sun bounced off the water and sparkled like sequins, two weeks of melting popsicles in the park with Peter and painting in front of the fountain. You had to make the most of it.

“What should we do today?” Peter arrived at your house bright and early, sitting on the step of your porch with his feet dangling over the dewy grass. It was early in the morning, the sun hiding behind the trees, the neighborhood quiet except for the birds singing their summertime songs.

You smiled over your coffee mug at him, grabbing the empty picnic basket from the chipping wicker table in front of you, “We can bike down to the water and have a picnic if you’re up for it. There’s a spot of rain on the radar but I think it’s moving south,” you said. You were hoping he was up for it because you already had your swimsuit on and were eager to get your toes into the cool lake.

“Sounds fun to me,” his bike was lying on its side in the grass, back wheel still spinning from when he was hollering at you to watch him dart full speed down the hill.

A wide, giddy grin lit up your face that made Peter’s face turn pink as he watched you jump up and dash inside to put together a picnic. He sat there on the creaky wooden step of your front porch, his stomach twisted into knots. His aunt had finally convinced him to say how he felt, but if you didn’t start on your trek soon he would surely lose all of his motivation to do so.

“Ya ready, Pete?” you jumped from the top step and onto the sidewalk below, hefty picnic basket in your arms. You set it in the basket of your bike and hopped on, dangling your feet as you waited for your best friend to join you.

He laughed as you flipped a pair of obnoxious daisy shades over your eyes, your heart skipping a beat as he did so, “I’ll race you!” he shouted, taking off up the hill to lead the way out of your neighborhood.

Though the sun was still out at your favorite lake spot, a blanket of dark clouds were rolling in slowly. They seemed to glare down at the two of you as you threw a large gingham picnic blanket onto the dock, placing your picnic basket on top. Peter ran up the hill to the large oak tree that suspended its branches over the water like dangling arms, a rope swing that your grandparents had tied long ago still swaying in the breeze.

You howled with laughter, Peter letting out a yelp as he ran full speed to the rope and swung over the water before dropping in, “God, it’s freezing!” he shouted as he came up for air. A small smile broke on your face as you set up your picnic.

You and Peter were best friends, always. The two of you did everything together, but today felt... different. Things between the two of you were starting to feel like more. You rolled your eyes, pulling your shirt off before diving off of the dock into the water below.

“It is,” you finally said in agreement, your teeth chattering as you waded in the deep, frigid water. Peter laughed at you, doggy paddling circles around you. You watched him carefully, as he kicked around. “Stop that, you’re making me nervous!” you teased.

The truth was that Peter was the one that was nervous, he had to find a way to expel his anxious energy. His pink face and shifty eyes were making your stomach fill with butterflies, so you decided to pull a prank on him to help him relax. “Help!” You squealed dramatically, holding your breath as you kicked and splashed, diving under the water.

“Y/N?” he watched for a moment, his heart beating loudly in his ears. Surely you were just pulling his leg, trying to joke around a little.

“It’s got me!” you yelled again, choking on your own laughter.You were under the water for a long while, and nothing but air bubbles were visible on the surface.

“What’s got you? Y/N!” Peter’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls. Maybe you were serious this time. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath before he dove after you.

You had considered yourself a prankster for a while, a good actress, too. Your eyes were wide open as you watched Peter scramble after you, legs kicking with such force that you were almost surprised when he didn’t sprout fins and gills and swim away. You were trying your best to hide the grin as you shut your eyes when he got close enough, Peter grabbing you by your arms to pull you up to the surface.

Once you broke the surface of the water, you burst out laughing. You could see Peter put the pieces together in his mind until he gasped and followed you to the dock, splashing you hard as you climbed the slippery metal ladder up to the dock.“You’re such a loser! Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a joke, it was one! Why are you so anxious today?” you asked with a laugh, lending him a hand out of the water. He rolled his eyes at you and took your hand, his face turning red. Peter dropped your hand as soon as he saw the quizzical look on your face. “Up for lunch? I packed peanut butter sandwiches!”

You and Peter pulled your picnic blanket up to the edge of the dock to dangle your legs over the water as you ate sandwiches and drank fizzy sodas straight from their glass bottles. Peter was playing an upbeat pop playlist on his phone, singing along to the tunes.  It was the epitome of summer to you. “I wish that this didn’t have to end,” he looked over at you with a bashful smile. Peter seemed to gaze up at you through his long eyelashes, making you practically woozy over the honey coloring in his dark eyes.

“I know,” you blinked out of your daze, popping a grape into your mouth. Peter sighed loudly next to you, staring out at the water.

You nudged him with your elbow and tossed another grape into the air, catching it smoothly in your mouth, “What’s going through your head? You’re acting kind of distant.” You looked up at the sky as a rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, each sound growing louder and louder. Maybe the rain would skip over you? Peter blinked, his face going scarlet as he messed with his hair which was now practically a wet, curly poodle atop his head. “I, nothing. Really, nothing,” he shrugged and managed a light laugh which you raised an eyebrow at. “Okay, fine. Y/N, I do really need to tell you something actually.”

As if the Gods above were playing some sick joke on the two of you- probably because of your mean prank on Peter- the heavens opened up with rain. Not just any rain, a torrential downpour of large, heavy drops of warm rainwater. The kind of summer rain that was harmless, but sent everyone indoors.

The two of you yelped and ran for cover under the oak tree, laughing as you dragged your soaking wet picnic blanket along with you. You were wiping water from your eyes, “Well, that’s ironic,” you said with a laugh.  Rain was still managing to get the two of you wet despite the large tree’s covering. “Guess we’ll just wait for the rain to stop and head home?”

“Well, there’s no lightning, and we still have food to eat. We’re already in our suits,” Peter pressed play on his phone once more and placed it on the dry earth next to the tree’s roots. He stepped into the pouring rain and offered you a hand, “Let’s dance.”

“That’s so corny, Peter!” you rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours as you bit back a smile. At first, Peter and you were jumping up and down dancing hecticly. Peter was doing some 70s disco move as you stepped and snapped to the beat.

Then, the next song played, slowing things down. The rain was suddenly not coming down in full force, not pounding the ground or the water as hard as it was before. You took Peter’s hands and laughed as he spun you. You lay your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed together in the rain. “This was my dad’s favorite spot as a kid. My grandparents put that rope swing up,” you said quietly, leaning back to look up at him.

“That’s awesome. I like you,” Peter said it all so fast. So fast that it took a moment for his words to register in your head.

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “I know, me too. Well, not that I like me too, but I like you, too. Not that I don’t like myself, but not like that. You do mean like that, don’t you?” he nodded, taking your hand as you spun out to stand in front of him.

You held both of his hands as the next song played, a poppier song with a dancing beat. The two of you danced like this, holding each other’s hands and waiting for someone to do something. Peter twirled you around and pulled you into him, dancing in a sort of fast waltz. You couldn’t stop laughing as the two of you danced in the rain, the most cliche thing that anyone could think up, “I’m gonna dip you!” Peter said.

Peter couldn’t stop laughing as threw your head back when he dipped you, your hair grazing the grass. Rain was pouring down from the sky even harder now, which you hoped was now a blessing from the Gods instead of a joke.

When he pulled you back up, his face was alight with glee. Curly hair was sticking to his forehead, dripping with rainwater. He pushed your own hair out of your face and did what you thought he would never do; Peter kissed you

Peter Parker, your best friend, had kissed you in the rain on a hot summer day at your favorite place in the world. He’d finally done it and it was electrifying and full of glee. The kiss was like every summer day you’d spent together; full of joy and warmth and love. The cage of butterflies in your stomach broke open, leaving them to flap around wildly.

Peter had taken a chance and it worked.

[sunstar-of-the-north]

My Monster Alien Boyfriend?!: Chapter 2

            Friday rolled around and the many people of Los Angeles were excited for the weekend. None of them were as excited as Halu and Ravage however. The two were able to finalize their anniversary plans and couldn’t wait until Halu’s last class was over. They were tapping their fingers, eyeing the clock impatiently.

           One of the students in their small group gave him a smirk. “Do you got somewhere to be dude?” Halu blinked and turned to their class mate. “Huh? Did you say something?” The student chuckled. “I asked you do you got somewhere to be?”

           “Oh! No sorry. I guess I’m ready for the weekend, you know?” Everyone in the group nodded in empathy. “Yeah, I feel you. Well we got twenty more minutes, so let’s figure out this code and be done with it.” Halu nodded, slightly feeling embarrassed. Once class was over, they got their things together and dashed out of the room with the speed that would equal a cheetah’s. Ravage chuckled within their mind. “Make sure not to trip over your feet dear. I don’t want to see you fall flat on your face.” Halu chuckled, making a few students look at them. “I know you’ll catch me if I do!”

           Once Halu dropped off their things at their room, they went straight to the college’s parking lot. They found their car and quickly got inside. After the student started the car, they proceeded to drive out of the lot. A few minutes later they parked outside of a grocery store. Halu entered the large building. They took a moment to collect their barring’s then took a left. It took a while but they eventually found the snack aisle. They wandered down said aisle for a little bit, scanning the shelves. “Ah, here it is!” They took a box of cheese crackers off the shelf and proceeded to the fruit section. There Halu picked some green grapes and apples. Once they paid for their items, they left the store and drove to the liquor store.

           The student felt slightly out of their element. They rarely ever bought alcohol for themselves. Thankfully the wine section wasn’t too far away from the enterance. They walked over to many bottles stacked neatly on the shelves. Halu rubbed their chin in thought as they eyed them. “What are you in the mood for, red or white wine?”

           “…Definitely red. It’s been a while since I’ve had a glass.”

               Halu smiled. “Red it is then!” They took two bottles off the shelf. “Should we get C'est du Vin or Bouteille de Vin?” Before their boyfriend could answer, a tall man rested a hand on the shelf closest to them. He was giving them a friendly grin. “Having trouble finding something kid?” At first they were surprised by the man but then smiled. “No thank you. I know what I want. I just don’t know which brand I want.” The man nodded in understanding. “That can be a tough choice. It’s hard to find a good brand. It’s almost as hard as trying to find a good girlfriend!” The man chuckled at his own joke. Halu simply nodded. “So what’s the wine for?”

           “Oh uh—I’m celebrating!” The man grinned even more. “Oh cool! What are you celebrating for?” They suddenly went brain dead. “Just tell him it’s none of his business,” growled Ravage. They were about to tell the symbiote to not be rude when the man snapped his fingers. “Mid-terms right?” It took a moment for Halu to register what he said before replying, “...Yes! I uh—got really good grades on them and what better way to celebrate than with some wine and dine!”

           “I couldn’t agree more! Well if I were you, I’d pick C'est du Vin! It has a great flavor that lasts for a long time!” Halu thought about it for a moment. They then asked Ravage for his opinion. “…I hate to admit it, but that does sound good.” The student slightly rolled their eyes. They smiled at the man. “Sounds great to me! Thank you very much for the help!” He gave them an OK sign. “No problem! Don’t party too hard now,” he said playfully. Halu giggled and waved them good bye. Soon they and Ravage were back in the car. They noticed how quiet their boyfriend was during their conversation with the other person. “Is everything ok sweetheart?” Ravage didn’t respond. They were about to say something when he cut them off. “I’m not jealous! I just—don’t’ think it was any of his business, that’s all.” The twenty-one year old sighed. “Whatever you say Ravage. I just hope you won’t be a party pooper at our own anniversary.” He only huffed in response.

           The duo eventually made it back to Halu’s dorm room. They took a block of cheddar cheese from the mini fridge and put it in the grocery bag with the other foods. Halu started to change into a white, button up shirt, a sweater vest, a red bow tie, and a pair of black dress pants to pull the whole outfit together. “You look stunning.” They blushed slightly by his comment. “T-Thank you…well uh we better get going!” Halu took the bags with them, locking the doors.

                                                        ***

           It was dark by the time Halu and Ravage made it to their destination. They were at the very outskirts of the suburbs. They set up a pic-nic on a small hill, away from the prying eyes of humanity. This allowed Ravage to be outside of his host’s body without being spotted. He was currently watching Halu struggle with opening the wine bottle. They forgot to bring a corkscrew and were using a cheese knife as a substitute. He couldn’t help but chuckle at his lover. “Do you need help,” he asked. They shook their head defiantly. “Nope! I can do it!” After five minutes of huffing and puffing, Halu let out a defeated sigh. They handed the bottle to the symbiote with a hung head. He chuckled softly and took it. He opened his mouth which was full of sharp, shark like fangs. He poked his canine tooth into the cork. Once it was firmly stuck, Ravage twisted the bottle. It let out a loud pop when it was opened.

           Ravage spit out the cork and turned to the Arabian. “You never cease to amaze me,” Halu said with an impressed smile. He shrugged with a smug grin. “I aim to please.” They laughed and went back to the bags. Their grin dropped suddenly. Ravage raised an ‘eye-brow’ at them. “What?” They turned to them, blushing in embarrassment. “I—forgot the cups.” Ravage sighed while shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

           They grinned sheepishly. “Um—keep me, feed me, and love me?” He ‘rolled’ his eyes. “I suppose so…Well it is just the two of us.” He then proceeded to take a swig of the wine. Halu gently punched his arm. “Hey, save some for me!” The creature chuckled deeply. “Okay, okay!” He handed them the bottle. Ravage then started to cut the block of cheese. He opened the box of crackers once he made a good amount of slices. Meanwhile Halu was opening the bags of grapes. They were about to eat a plump one when it was suddenly snatched out their fingers by a long, pink tongue. He frowned at Ravage who was grinning mischievously. The student couldn’t help but smile back.

            Pretty soon the two made a decent dent in their snacks. Halu was lying on their back while Ravage was still sitting up. They were both looking up into the sky. Even though most of the stars were covered by smog, some of them were able to gleam dimly passed the brown clouds.

             “…Did you ever imagine yourself to be where you are now?”

             Ravage turned to Halu. Although it was dark, the faint lights of the city made their brown eyes twinkle in the night. The symbiote pondered the question for a while. He then laid down on his side, only inches away from Halu. “No. I didn’t…I thought I would have eaten half of the population by now.” The human tried to hide their discomfort. They scooted until their body was touching Ravage’s. “Do…you regret not doing that?” He was somewhat taken aback by their question. Without hesitating, he answered no. Ravage could feel Halu’s muscles relaxing immediately. “I’m glad…to be honest; I didn’t expect to be where I am either. I mean—how many people wake up one day and be like, ‘Hey, today I’m going to let an alien from outer space live inside my body for the rest of our lives!’?”

             Ravage roared in laughter, resting his hand over his face. Halu soon joined in on the giggle fest. After a while the two started to get quiet again. The student noticed though that there was a bit of tension in the air. They watched their lover from the corner of their eye. His jaw was locked tightly and he was clawing the ground with his long, red nails. Halu touched his arm. He looked over to them, eyes looking slightly hard. “Yes?” They nervously licked their lips before speaking. “Are…you ok? You seem on edge.” He nodded. “I’m fine.”

             “No you’re not.”

              The symbiote frowned at them. “Yes, I am.” It was now their turn to frown. “Ravage, I’ve known you for a full two years now. I can tell when something is bothering you. Now spill it!” Ravage narrowed his eyes. He then sat up with a soft growl. He didn’t say anything, much to the human’s annoyance. Halu suddenly had an idea of why he might be in such a sour mood. “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me that you’re jealous! That guy was trying to be nice! Seriously you’re being-“

              “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

              Halu cocked their head in confusion. “What?” He gripped the grass tightly as he hissed, “He was practically devouring you with his eyes. The way they hungrily searched your body made me want to rip them right out of their sockets! It’s not just him either. Everyone looks at you as if you’re fresh meat. Yes, it makes me jealous but it also pisses me off! You’re a person, not some juicy morsel that people can ogle at!”

             Ravage turned his attention back to them. They were sitting up, eyes wide. He then averted his gaze, feeling ashamed for getting so upset. A few moments later he felt a warm hand on his cheek. The hand made him turn his head to Halu. They had a soft expression on their face. “…People can stare at me all they want.” Ravage was perplexed by their statement. He was about to say something, but they put their finger on his lips to silence him. “I could care less, just as long as you keep staring at me. Your gaze is the only one I care about.” With that, Halu planted a small kiss on his lips. The symbiote’s eyes grew to the size of moons by the gesture. He then grinned, a loud purr growing within his neck. Ravage returned the kiss but his was slightly harder. The two then had their arms around each other, pawing and clenching at their clothes or skin.

            Ravage gently pushed Halu’s chest, indicating that he wanted to lay them on the grass. They complied with his wishes. Halu broke the kiss and started to kiss his throat. He groaned softly. Then he used his tongue to lick the human’s neck, causing them to gasp in surprise. Ravage grinned wickedly at their reaction. His made the tongue go further down their body, sliding it underneath their shirt collar. Halu blushed red, softly moaning as they felt his tongue touch their skin. They had their arms around his neck, holding onto their lover like he was the only solid thing there. Ravage had his hands on their hips, gingerly rubbing them. They could also feel string like appendages slither about their body.

            “R-Ravage,” Halu gasped out. He slowly retracted his tongue, causing them to moan. The creature licked his lips. “You taste divine,” he panted. They blushed even harder by his statement. He then grinned till his red gums were showing. “But I want more.” Suddenly Ravage untied their bow and unbuttoned their shirt collar. In one fell swoop, he bit into Halu’s neck. They screamed in pure bliss, nails digging into the symbiote’s skin. He eventually removed his fangs, licking the wound. The Arabian was gasping for air at this point, eyes half opened. Ravage was panting as well, making small puffs of steam as he exhaled. He rested his forehead on Halu’s, eyes soft.

           “I love you Halu.”

            They grinned as they let out a shaky breath. They put their hands on Ravage’s cheeks, who in turned touched one of Halu’s hands. They started to nuzzle each other, both enjoying this rare time of being truly alone together.

           “I love you too Ravage.”

All Characters (c) Me Venom (c) Marvel/Sony

[soft-boy-stefan]

There’s really no way to reach me (prince!tom holland x prince!reader)| Chapter 3

a/n: sorry i was having writer’s block….here, have a fluffy chapter!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“What the fuck was that the other day, Tom?” you ask, blocking his way out of the main room. You want, need, answers. “You don’t just… make out with someone and pretend it’s nothing!” you fume with your arms crossed over your chest. Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t find that hot.

Knowing all too well you aren’t letting him leave until he explains, the curly haired prince sighs, slumping his shoulders. Toying with the buttons of his suit, he walks towards a plush red chair with golden embroidery. “All my life I’ve been with girls.” Tom says as he grips the armrests of the chair, lowering himself. You can almost hear your heart sink. “It was natural for me; a guy and a girl. So, that’s what I thought my future would be; I would marry a princess.” he hums, lacing his fingers together.

You nod, trying to not to show the unbearable sadness you’re feeling. “I understand. I’m sor-”

“I’m not done, love.” Tom cuts you off, smiling softly at your confused face. You are utterly adorable, but yet sexy, in Tom’s eyes. “Like I was saying, I thought I would marry a princess, then all the heterosexual thoughts flew out the bloody window when I met you.” he grins wider when he sees the blush on your cheeks.

The dark eyed prince stands up; his black sleek dress shoes leaving indents in the velvety cream carpet. You blink a few times, mindlessly playing with the end of your gray t-shirt. “W-what does t-that mean? Are you-”

“I’m Y/N-sexual.” Tom smirks, cupping your cheek in his smooth palm. You can’t hold back the small laugh from coming out of your mouth. The cheeky smirk turns into a bright smile at the sound and you swear the entire room lit up. “Yeah, you heard me, love, I’m Y/N-sexual. Not gay, not bisexual, not anything.” he giggles.

Another laugh escapes your lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle. “That’s, um, very specific, don’t you think?” you chuckle, wrapping your arm around his waist, pulling him against your chest.

He shrugs while his thumb rubs circles on your cheek. “I’m a specific kind of guy.” he mumbles quietly, oak brown eyes flickering to your lips. “After I do my duties, I want to take you out on a proper date, if you’ll let me.” Tom blushes, looking back in your Y/C/E eyes. He could easily get lost in that beautiful color.

Feeling bold, you quickly peck his lips before your entire face, and part of your neck, turns a rosy shade of pink. “I’d like that, Tommy.” you grin, “I’ll be in my room.”

-----------------

When Tom returns to the palace, he quickly changes into a (outfit) navy blue shirt with a pair of cuffed blue jeans and black converse. Smoothing back his curls, he knocks on your door, bouncing on his toes. “Gimme a sec!” you call out, styling your hair in the perfect quiff. You look at your outfit in the mirror (outfit); unbuttoning the top two buttons of your red shirt before opening the door.

Tom’s eyes immediately fly to the small patch of skin exposed; silver necklace dangling dangerously low on your chest. “Wow.” he breathes, grinning at you, “You look handsome.” he takes your hand that you held out for him.

You grin wide, cheeks pink, as you stick your free hand in the back pocket of your black skinny jeans. “So do you.” you hum, following Tom outside after he grabs a picnic basket. “It’s so nice outside.”

The wind blows your loose button down around your torso, causing a few wisps of hair to fly out of place. Tom sneaks a picture of you, smiling at his phone before putting it away. He stops when there’s a perfect patch of green grass, pulling out the blanket and laying it down.

You peek into the light brown basket, humming as you pull out a container and take a bite of sandwich. “Y/N, really?” Tom laughs, sitting down before patting the spot next to him.

Swallowing, you set the basket down as you kneel next to him. “I’m a hungry guy.” you shrug, taking another bite. “It’s what defines me as a man.” you lower your voice, puffing your chest out. Tom bursts out in laughter, making you laugh too. “Shut up. I saw it in Incredibles 2.” you blush.

He grabs another sandwich, laying down on your knees as he eats. Tom grins when he feels your fingers dance through his curls and he sees you watching the clouds, taking bites here and there. You finish your sandwich, leaning down to kiss his lips. What was supposed to be a quick peck, turns into a deep kiss and you can taste the grape jelly he was eating moments before.

Smiles break the kiss. You giggle, resting your forehead on his. “You taste like grape.” you hum, kissing him again.

Tom laughs softly, holding the back of your neck with his free hand. “Oh, do I?” he smirks, putting the rest of his food down and kissing you deeper than before. You move your lips against his; your necklace dangling on his chest while you tilt your head.

After a minute, you pull away, gasping for air with a pair of swollen lips. A grin spreads across your face and you curl your hand in his shirt. “God, you’re intoxicating.” you rasp.

“I can say the same about you, love.” Tom grins.

taglist:

@consistentshitfest @chingonaconcha @art-estrange

[atths--twice]

Peaceful Relaxation

Mulder and a pregnant Scully, relaxing in a hammock, content in this moment of their lives.

August 2018

Mulder stepped into the backyard, a glass of sparkling grape juice in his hand, and walked towards Scully. She was lying in the hammock he had surprised her with a couple of days ago.

She had been sleeping on the couch recently, her ever expanding belly causing aches in her hips and back. Their bed was comfortable, but for right now, she claimed the couch felt better on her aching bones.

Two nights of her sleeping downstairs, and he did some searching online, finding that a hammock could be beneficial to alleviate some of her pain. Driving out to the store, he had purchased the best one he could find, after many questions to the salesperson.

He had brought it home, determined to put it together on his own before she came home from her shift at the hospital. The amount of pieces and work involved was daunting, but glancing at the clothesline he and Mrs. Scully had installed a couple of years ago, he knew he could do it.

And he had. Meeting her at the door with a grin, he had taken her bag and set it down before grasping her hand and bringing her to the backyard to present it to her. Her smile and happiness was worth the two small cuts he received from being inept when it came to using tools.

Her shoes had come off and he helped her to lie down as she sighed deeply, her head on the pillow he had also purchased. He watched her smile, her eyes closed, the warm wind blowing her hair, her hands clasped above her stomach.

“This is perfect, Mulder. Lay down with me,” she had said softly, moving her hand to pat the spot beside her, eyes remaining closed. He smiled and went to do her bidding, lying beside her and listening to her breathing contentedly, happy he could do something to help.

Stepping over to her now, he stopped short, seeing her eyes closed and hearing her breathing slow and steady. Not wanting to wake her, he turned to leave, when her hand shot out and stopped him.

“If that’s my grape juice, don’t even think about walking away,” she said, opening one eye to look at him. He grinned and squatted beside her, handing her the glass and pushing the straw toward her lips. She took a long drink and moaned as she swallowed. “God, that’s so good. I don’t think I can adequately describe to you the desire I have for it. It’s so strong and when I finally get it, it’s just… mmm.” She took another long drink and the glass was empty except for the ice tinkling at the bottom.

“Would you like some more? I could get you some. Quench that desire for you,” he said, her words carrying a double meaning for him and causing his mind to race. “I do enjoy you being thoroughly satisfied.” She laughed and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

“I’m good for now.”

“Well, if you need anything, I mean anything, you let me know. I’m here for all your needs,” he assured her as he stood up to take the glass back inside.

“You take that glass inside and then come lay beside me, that’s what I need.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He walked towards the house, glancing back to see her running her hands over her stomach, and he smiled. Opening the back door, he decided to bring out some snacks and the bottle of grape juice so he would not need to get up again.

Packing the bottle of juice and lemonade for himself into an insulated bag, he dumped in some ice. Placing disposable cups, straws, crackers and chips into a bag, he opened the door and stepped back into the warm afternoon.

He set the items down and slipped off his shoes, sitting down carefully and then lying beside her. As he did, she turned onto her side, put her head on his shoulder, and reached for his left hand.

“Feel right here,” she smiled and put his hand on the side of her stomach. He waited and was soon rewarded with a swift kick under his hand. Smiling, he gently rubbed his thumb across her stomach, hoping to feel it again.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm, not too bad. But even if it did, I would welcome it,” she said softly and he nodded, knowing that of course she would. He watched her face as he waited and when he felt it again, she smiled happily.

“I love you,” he said quietly. She pulled back and looked at him, scrunching her chin with a smile, her eyes so blue.

“I love you too.” She held his gaze and he nodded, smiling at her as the hammock moved gently in the breeze. Holding onto his right arm, she put her head back on his shoulder.

He kept his hand on her stomach, moving it as he felt the baby moving around inside of her. “Moving a lot today,” he said, in awe of the life they had created.

“Mm-hmm,” she breathed and he smiled, knowing she was nearly asleep. She was tired more easily these days, napping often and always apologizing for it, though he repeatedly told her to stop.

He closed his eyes, moving his hand to his own stomach, and took a deep breath. It was warm in the shade of the late afternoon, the wind blowing just enough to keep it from being unbearable.

A soft snore caused him to open his eyes and smile. She would deny it, had in fact done so in the past when he teased her about snoring, but he knew she did when she was very tired. Moaning, she moved slightly and breathed deeply again. He smiled and closed his eyes again, feeling in need of a nap of his own.

The grass was taller and smelled sweet as spring began to make way for summer. He heard Scully call to him and he turned around, seeing her on the porch swing and pointing to his left with a smile. He nodded and headed in the direction she had pointed.

“Fe fi fo fum,” he growled, stomping his feet as he stepped deeper into the grass. “I will catch you, so you better not run.” Hearing a giggle to his left, he kept walking, knowing she was out there somewhere.

“I will find you little girl. I will find you and tickle you.”

“You have to catch me first, Daddy!” she called and he saw the grass moving ahead of him to the right. Quickening his steps, he saw the back of her before the grass swallowed her again.

“Oh… I was so close, but now I’m on your tail. It won’t be long until I find you.” She giggled louder and he stomped toward her and parted the grass. Finding her crouched down with her hand on her mouth to quiet her laughter, he bent down and stared at her, her blue eyes shining.

She moved her hand and jumped into his arms. “You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!” He grinned as he held her tightly and stood up, rocking her as her legs dangled down, swinging from side to side.

“I will always find you, my sweet girl. Always.” He turned around and started back to the house.

“Even if I was far away? Or hiding somewhere you’ve never been?”

“Always. No matter what.”

She held him tighter and he heard her sigh with happiness. Smiling, he looked up to see Scully standing at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, and a smile on her face.

“Well, it looks like you’ve been found, little one. Did you have fun?” Scully asked as they walked up the steps and he set her down.

“I did. Daddy founded me. He’s a good finder.”

“That he is,” Scully agreed and smiled at him, her eyes shining; like mother like daughter. “How about a snack? Something yummy?”

“Yeah! Carrots and celery, please,” she said, pushing one of her long dark braids over her shoulder, opening the screen door, and stepping inside the house.

“Ugh, how is she my child when she asks for stuff like that?” he asked and Scully laughed, patting him on the chest.

“Can I have a cookie too?” They both turned and saw her face pressed into the screen with a hopeful grin.

“See, now that’s more like it! My girl! Yes, you may have a cookie.” He clapped in excitement and they both laughed.

“Mulder…” Scully warned and he looked at her. “Mulder…”

“Mulder! You’re snoring.”

His eyes flew open and he exhaled a breath. Expecting them to be on the porch, he was surprised to find that they were lying on the hammock, the sun just beginning to set. He looked at her, one hand on her belly, the other holding his own and he exhaled again.

“You okay?” she mumbled, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah… just having a dream. Sorry about the snoring.”

“No need to apologize.”

He shook his head, his dream lingering still, leaving behind a feeling of deja vu. He was sure he had dreamt something similar many years ago.

A little girl running through the grass, the way it felt when she wrapped her arms around his neck, the happiness it brought him. Those blue eyes staring at him, so full of love.

“Hmm, we should probably head inside soon,” Scully breathed and he was brought back to the present. Moving his hand, he placed it gently on her stomach. “I think she’s sleeping. Looks like we all took a nap.”

He heard the smile in her voice and he smiled too, leaving his hand there and thinking of that little blue-eyed girl. If his dream was a premonition, if he was somehow seeing what would be, he could not wait.

“A few more minutes, Scully. Let’s see what colors the setting sun has in store for us today,” he said, rubbing his hand slowly across her belly, happy and content in the moment.

“No complaints on my end,” she agreed, covering his hand with hers and sighing.

Red, orange, and pink filled the sky before they rose carefully from the hammock. He brought the food and drinks they did not eat back into the house, as Scully walked ahead of him and stretched by the table.

He grinned as her shirt rose up a little and her belly was exposed. So beautiful, she was so beautiful. She caught him grinning and he shook his head, causing her to smile back as she lowered her arms.

“Dinner?” she asked and he nodded, turning on the oven to reheat last night’s leftovers. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll be down in a few.” He nodded and she walked upstairs.

Crossing the room, he opened the front door and then the screen. How odd it would have been to step through and find dream Scully on the porch, that little face pressed to the screen asking for cookies.

He looked around the porch, shaking his head at the realness of it all. His gaze landing to his left, he decided right then to find a porch swing and hang it, providing a place for them to relax. How had they not done so yet? The space was perfect.

Nodding, he added it to the list of things he needed to finish before the baby was born. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the night air warm as the crickets began to sing. He smiled, the memories of the dream taking away any fear or worry he may have had.

They were going to be okay; all of them. This was the life they had always been meant to have, it had just taken them a few tries to finally get it right.

“You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!”

He opened his eyes and breathed deeply once more. “Yes, I will always find you.” He nodded and stepped back inside, leaving the door open, allowing the breeze to blow softly through the screen and into the house.

Putting the dinner in the oven, he smiled again. “And I will give all the cookies you could ever want. Just don’t tell your Mommy,” he whispered, glancing up, knowing Scully would not have been able to hear him. “I can’t wait to meet you, but you take your time.”

He remembered the sound of her happy giggle in the sea of the tall green grass, the feel of her in his arms, and the sweetness of her little voice. His girl.

“Take your time, Sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”