Will You? (An /rgre/ Anthology)


                                            ----------------Twilight - Love and Timing


                                            >The gentle crash of the lukewarm ocean waves lapped at your feet as you strolled along the cool sands.

                                            >Coastal winds whipped your unbuttoned blazer and halfway undone tie every which way, but you didn’t care to fix them. Not with only the two of you around, anyhow.

                                            >Day had long since given way to night, a canvas of ethereal heaven adorning the locale as you and your marefriend strolled side by side.

                                            >You weren’t sure how they did it, but Night Light and Twilight Velvet ended up renting out an entire beach for the annual family trip, complete with separate waterfront cottages for each pair present.

                                            >Ironically enough, it was the same beach where Twilight had initially asked you to be hers, which gave everything a silky sweet undertone of sentimentality.

                                            >You were flattered beyond belief when they had extended an invitation - from what Twiggles had told you, they were typically pretty strict about the whole shebang being a family-only occasion.

                                            >All the more reason for your surprise upon their utter /insistence/ for your attendance, especially on Night Light’s part.

                                            >Apparently, he’d been the one to initially enforce the relatives-only rule, which only endeared you to him more since he was the one who formally extended the invitation.

                                            >You openly pondered what could’ve changed his mind as you and Twilight meandered onward toward your lodging, your hand resting gently on her withers all the while.

                                            >The further you went on, the more you could feel her shivering underneath your fingertips, moreso whenever a rogue gust of wind ripped through.

                                            “You cold, hon?” you called out to her over the dull roar of the waves.

                                            >Her head whipped around to face you, as if she were surprised by your question.

                                            >“Oh, no, I’m f-fine,” she stuttered, very clearly not fine.

                                            >You giggled to yourself; mares were stubborn creatures, and your Twilight was no different.

                                            “You can take my jacket, if you want.”

                                            >She shook her head, resolute.

                                            >“I’m okay for now, Anon,” she reassured you. “I definitely want to hop under a few blankets when we get back, though.”

                                            >The lack of one of her beloved nicknames for you gave you pause. She must’ve been /real/ chilly for her to only use your abbreviated name.

                                            “Deal. I needed a good cuddle with you, anyhow.”

                                            >She beamed at you, satisfied with your affections, before facing forward once more.

                                            >Before long, your cottage crept into view, the darkened windows begging for its occupants to come back home.

                                            >The moment you laid your eyes on it, though, Twilight’s trembling worsened, breaking out into outright shaking with the mildest of breezes.

                                            >Even more concerning was the barely-suppressed whispering you heard under her breath, rhythmic in nature. She did that sometimes to help her mellow out, she had told you - said it was something she’d done ever since she was a filly.

                                            >Poor girl… Sometimes, you wished that she’d swallow her marely pride and do things your way for a change. For a little bit, at least.

                                            >You said nothing, but pulled her closer to you, hoping to share some warmth.

                                            >She leaned into your touch, but the shivering only barely subsided.

                                            “Almost there, hon,” you said as you gave her side a light squeeze.

                                            >“Y-Yeah,” she replied, a bit unsteady. “D-Did you want to read anything tonight before bed?”

                                            “For sure. Did you bring that new novel? The one by Pale Gloom?”

                                            >“The First Disciple? Yep, I’ve g-got it in my suitcase.”

                                            “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to that one! Want me to make some tea to go along with it?”

                                            >“I-If you wouldn’t mind, honeybun.”

                                            >You inwardly celebrated the return of the nicknames you were so fond of. You’d softened up quite a bit after all this time with her, but you didn’t care - you’d never felt quite so wonderful about life before.

                                            >Though her shivering and rhythmic whispers continued, you knew then that everything was alright.

                                            >Not much later, the two of you had crossed the sandy stretch and ended up right outside of the cottage’s front porch.

                                            >Before you could make your way up the steps, though. Twilight held her outstretched wing to your midsection, walking in front of you with a crooked, troubled smile.

                                            >“Hold on for j-just a moment,” she croaked out. “I need to go check s-something. Just a second!”

                                            >She bolted up the steps and through the front door, doing her best not to slam it behind her.

                                            >From within, you heard a rush of hoofsteps, a fair amount of rustling, and your marefriend’s quiet murmurs, even over the onslaught of the ocean waves.

                                            >The fuss eventually subsided, though, and after a few moments of relative quiet, Twilight’s voice rang out from somewhere inside.

                                            >“Okay, you can come in now!”

                                            >You furrowed your brow. What was she up to…?

                                            >Leisurely, you traipsed onto the front porch.

                                            >The dim light that had replaced the windows’ darkness lit the way, your every step just barely illuminated by a soft amber glow.

                                            >You reached out for the door with a timid hand, anxious after all of the sudden fanfare. The cool metal of the door handle sent a chill down your spine as your fingers wrapped themselves around it.

                                            >With a downward tug, you wrested the door free of its latch and pushed it inward, crossing the threshold into a cloud of warmth. It closed behind you, muffling the outside ambience to a pleasant, almost sleepy volume.

                                            >While the living room was still mostly darkened, a gaggle of tall candles tastefully strewn about coated everything in that same dim light that came from the windows.

                                            >The couch and chairs had been moved out of the way, freeing up tons of space to walk around.

                                            >In the center of the newly made space was the coffee table, a few burning candles sitting on the end furthest from you.

                                            >On its surface were what looked to be old photos, but before you could subject them to closer scrutiny, Twilight stepped into view from an open doorway to your bedroom.

                                            >Warm light from the myriad candles draped itself onto her soft countenance, every shadow cast accentuating her features.

                                            >She had freshly brushed her hair in the time that you had taken to enter, silky strands lilting about in the stillness of the room.

                                            >She’d even applied a few extra spritzes of her beloved perfume, if that lavender aroma in the air was anything to go by.

                                            >Just as she was when you first fell for her, just as she was every day since then, she was…

                                            >/Breathtaking/.

                                            >“Hey, honeybun,” she greeted, that same nervous smile you’d come to love adorning her face.

                                            >It proved to be infectious; for the life of you, you couldn’t help the corners of your mouth from skyrocketing.

                                            >Not that you’d have wanted to, of course.

                                            “What’s all this, Twilight…?” you mused, gawking at everything she had put into place.

                                            >She closed the distance between the two of you, and without her asking, you got down onto a knee with open arms, letting her nuzzle into your chest tightly as you threw your arms around her. She hooked both front hooves around you and threw her full weight into you, which you received without hesitation.

                                            >Even then, in the far warmer climate of the homey cottage, she continued to shiver.

                                            >“Oh, you know,” she replied as she pulled away. “J-Just something to show you how much I love you.”

                                            >You rose to your feet, drinking in the moment with your whole heart.

                                            “I love you too, hon. More than anything.”

                                            >The adoration on her face was matched only by her nerves - the more time passed, the more crooked her already elated grin became.

                                            >“Do you remember when we took these?” she asked, her aura enveloping your hand as she led you toward the coffee table, kneeling down again when you arrived.

                                            >The photos you had seen from a distance all turned out to be snapshots from across your relationship together, all arranged in chronological order from top to bottom. It was a cute little ritual you had both agreed to soon after the start of your relationship, determined to preserve precious memories for as long as possible.

                                            >You thought you had misplaced them, as they had all but disappeared a few months ago during a furniture rearrangement. Each of them were now framed, all of which were one thousand percent going on the fireplace mantle back home.

                                            “Oh, man, how could I forget?” you said, appreciation plain on your gobsmacked face.

                                            >You pointed to the first one in the sequence.

                                            “Isn’t that one from the second date we ever went on? When we wanted to try Gustav’s?”

                                            >She nodded enthusiastically, a glint of nostalgia in her eyes.

                                            >“I was so embarrassed when they made a show of bringing out the ‘lovers’ buffet’, but you leaned into it.”

                                            >Oh-ho-ho, you definitely remembered /that/.

                                            >To tell the truth, you were just as embarrassed as she was, but you weren’t about to let her anxiety get the best of her.

                                            >Your eyes locked onto the frame at the very center, depicting the two of you simply lounging on the couch reading a book together.

                                            “I’ll never forget this one,” you reminisced, heady from the memories. “The night you first told me you loved me.”

                                            >You reached over, cupped her head in your hand, and kissed her cheek. The smell of lavender when you drew close was monumental, her cheek firm as she smiled against your lips.

                                            >To your surprise, she still shivered. Though your bare touch tended to bring that out of her in certain situations, this was different; she was /trembling/.

                                            >You drape a hand over her withers, the sensation more intense around her barrel.

                                            “You alright, hon?” you asked, still willing to pass it off as a lingering reaction to the coastal gusts. “I can go get that blanket real quick, if you want?”

                                            >You make to stand, but she stops you again with an outstretched hoof.

                                            >“N-No, no,” she stammered out vehemently. “I’m okay. I promise, I’m okay.”

                                            >You cocked an eyebrow, a bit worried by her frantic denial, but you shrugged it off just as fast as the feeling arrived.

                                            “Okay,” you said as you kneeled back down. “Whatever you say, babe.”

                                            >Your attention affixed itself back onto the series of photos, enamored by the outpouring of her love.

                                            >Before long, though, you noticed something odd.

                                            “Oh, did you lose one of the photos?”

                                            >“Hm?” Twilight hummed, unsure of what you meant.

                                            >You gesture to the last frame in the series, removed slightly from the rest of its compatriots.

                                            “This one’s empty.”

                                            >Her trembling once again worsens, accompanied by an almost comically audible gulp.

                                            >“I-I was, um… I actually wanted to d-discuss that.”

                                            >‘Oh…?’ you thought, intrigued.

                                            >There was a bit of apprehension in your gut, what with her odd behavior, but once more, you pushed it to the side.

                                            >You nod, adopting a disarmingly calm smile so as to ease her into it.

                                            “Of course, Twi.”

                                            >She searched your features, looking for something unknown to you. When she found it, she took a deep breath, exhaling her nerves out into the open air.

                                            >“I-I’m sorry I had to sneak these out of the photo album,” she began, steadying herself as she spoke. “I know how much it upset you when you thought you lost them, and it upset me even more to see /you/ that upset, but I had to have them for tonight.”

                                            >She leaves your side, passing by the photo table. Though you can still visibly see her shaking, it’s no longer on the level of tremors.

                                            >She looked across every frame, only stopping at the one that was empty.

                                            >“I’m beyond grateful that you bought us that camera. These…”

                                            >She paused for a moment, an unsteady breath hitched in her throat.

                                            >“T-these memories are some of the happiest of my life, and they were all because of you.”

                                            >She turned to you, the ghosts of tears threatening to fall from the corners of her eyes.

                                            >Your chest tightened, a wholly un-unified mess.

                                            >While she readily admitted to being of a sappier disposition than most mares, it always brought you great pain to see her in tears.

                                            >In that moment, though, conflict seated itself deep within the tumult of your stomach.

                                            >Even through the myriad contortions that her tear ducts were orchestrating on her features, she still maintained that impossibly elated smile - undulating under the strain, yes, but /glowing/.

                                            >She spoke through it before you could chime in, fighting against it all the while.

                                            >“That’s why I left the last frame empty. I want to make more memories with you, Anon. More than we could ever know what to do with.”

                                            >You chuckled, chest tightening in adoration all the while.

                                            “That’s a dream we share, then.”

                                            >She nodded, steadying herself once more against her own nerves.

                                            >“‘And what are dreams, if not silhouetted glimpses into how life ought to be?’”

                                            >You frowned in surprise as she quoted one of your favorite Equestrian authors without missing a beat.

                                            “Hey, that was Clear Portrait, wasn’t it?” you guffawed, unable to stifle a laugh.

                                            >“Mm-hm,” she hummed as she slipped past you, your gaze fixed firmly on the photos.

                                            “Yeah, I knew it! That was one from one of his memoirs, the passage where he was… he was talking about…”

                                            >You sputtered off as the truth of her gesture revealed itself.

                                            >‘Is she…?’ you thought, your heart having all but stopped in your chest.

                                            >Before you could turn to face her and confirm your suspicions, figures swathed in pitch black shadows moved from out of your bedroom, fanning out to encompass the rear of the room.

                                            >Night Light, Twilight Velvet, Spike, Shining Armor, and Cadence all beamed at you from the other side of the room.

                                            >Night held a camera in his magical grasp - the same camera that had captured stills of a wonderful life with your Twilight.

                                            >https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_PPccG0Yfc

                                            >The same one that was present for that second date, and the mess of a Hearts and Hooves day that ensued.

                                            >The same one that was there for her first day as Princess of Friendship.

                                            >The same one that was there for the day she told you she loved you.

                                            >The same one that was there for your first vacation together.

                                            >The same one that you hoped would…

                                            >“Anon?”

                                            >Twilight’s voice ripped you from your stupor.

                                            >You turned to face her, your own mouth ever-so-slightly contorting against your will.

                                            >She held a velvet box in her hoof.

                                            >As she bowed to you, the tears she had barely been withholding finally rolled down her soft cheeks.

                                            >Time froze, immutable.

                                            >“Will you marry me?”

                                            >She lifted the lid of the coffer with her magic, revealing a golden band, woven with traces of her aura that would linger forevermore.

                                            >…

                                            >If a pin had been cast to the floor, the king of Griffonia might’ve heard it.

                                            >Your throat constricted itself, each swallow a monumental task.

                                            >You had long since known your reply, of course. Long before she had ever even thought she might ask.

                                            >You fell to both knees and enveloped her in a desperate embrace, unwilling to let go for anything.

                                            >She tucked her head into your breast as you breathlessly offered your answer.

                                            “/Yes/.”

                                            >Tears flowed freely between the two of you, both clinging on for the dear life together that was to come.

                                            >Off in the distance, the click of a camera rang out above the cacophony of celebration.


                                            ----------------Dash - Cirrus


                                            >She barreled through the sky, the term “speed” an afterthought as she tucked her wings and hooves inward.

                                            >As the drag slowed her down, she plummeted earthward, pivoting her weight forward and initiating a sustained roll.

                                            >Tumble after tumble, she fell. Ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

                                            >Lower and lower she went, the ground taking up more vision on each rotation, until…

                                            “/Now/!” you cried out, hands cupped on either side of your mouth.

                                            >In the blink of an eye, her wings shot out to full length, primaries angled downward as far as they could go without increasing drag.

                                            >She untucked from her cannonball and stretched out as much as she could, arching her back to better assist her wings in acquiring the lift she needed.

                                            >‘Come on, come on…’ you inwardly prayed.

                                            >Her perfectly curved climb began steadily, and your heart soared…

                                            >Until she wobbled mid-ascension, bringing her out of her intended target for completion.

                                            >“/Dang it!/” she shouted, evening herself out as she settled in place a few feet off of the ground.

                                            >You walked the brief distance over to the middle of the grassy field where she hovered, water bottle and towel in hand.

                                            >Sweat dripped from her furrowed brow, a few beads catching on the corners of her mouth as she struggled to get a good breath.

                                            “What happened?” you asked, bottle and towel both outstretched towards her.

                                            >“Same thing that’s been happening all day,” she grumbled, touching down and taking both articles in her wings. “I can’t get enough air under me for that stupid upswing.”

                                            >She took a few gulps from the water bottle before roughly patting her forehead with the towel.

                                            >“I just…” she tailed off, finally touching ground after an hour of uninterrupted flight. “What even /is/ this stupid stunt? Is Captain Spitfire crazy?”

                                            >She groaned aloud as she covered her face with her free hoof.

                                            >“How am I supposed to get this down in /two weeks/?!”

                                            >You frowned, the captain’s decision still hot on your mind.

                                            “We should probably take a break,” you suggested. “You’ve been at this for…”

                                            >You twisted your wrist around and checked the face of your watch.

                                            “Four hours. You’re /exhausted/, babe.”

                                            >“I don’t have time for breaks,” she replied, agitation all-encompassing. “If I can’t get this trick down in time for the show, I’m /so/ bucked.”

                                            “You really think so?”

                                            >Dash nodded as she hoofed everything back to you.

                                            >“She’s testing me,” she glowered. “We’re drafting a new unit of ace fliers for next year’s show team, and she knows I’m gunning for the lead spot. Her pushing this onto me is basically making it a sink-or-swim deal.”

                                            “I’ve actually been wondering about that,” you began, unsure of how to broach the question that had been gnawing at you.

                                            >Put plainly, Dash had mastered far harder maneuvers in /half/ the time she was given by Spitfire.

                                            >Your mare was quite literally a savant at any and all manner of flight. Stunts, speed, endurance, it didn’t matter - there was no ceiling that she couldn’t soar through.

                                            >Having known that, you couldn’t piece together why the trick was proving to be such an issue.

                                            >You had to ask carefully, though. You loved her to death, but under pressure, her fuse shortened considerably; the last thing you wanted to do was light it.

                                            “I /know/ you can get this down. I mean, you’ve done crazier stuff than this. Remember the Centrifuge Spiral?”

                                            >Dash cringed instinctively.

                                            >“I wish I didn’t,” she replied, stretching her left wing sporadically as if she was reliving her injury. “But yeah, I remember.”

                                            “Exactly! You’ve /got/ this. Just a little lift issue, nothin’ to worry about.”

                                            >She said nothing, spaced out looking at the ground in front of her. Her breaths were steadier, but you could practically feel the weight of the worried air leaving her lungs.

                                            >“It’s not that easy,” she muttered as she shook her head. “I’m just… it’s hard right now, alright?”

                                            >You frowned, eager to pinpoint what the area of difficulty was.

                                            “Well, it can’t be your primaries,” you mused, cupping your chin with your pointer and thumb. “Helped you preen a week ago. Flight muscles feeling alright?”

                                            >She nodded, still zoned out.

                                            >“Yeah.”

                                            “Wing joints?”

                                            >“They’re fine.”

                                            “Secondaries?”

                                            >“Anon, I’m /fine/,” she tersely replied, done with your questionnaire. “It’s not anything like that.”

                                            >She sat down on her haunches, a heavy sigh accompanying.

                                            >“I just…” she began. “Look, I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now. It’s hard to think straight.”

                                            >That tell-tale churning in your chest began again as you kneeled down next to her and pulled her into a sideways embrace. She leaned into it, but her wings stayed by her side, unlike usual.

                                            “Did you want to talk about it?”

                                            >A long silence followed, one that made you increasingly worried.

                                            >“…I can’t.”

                                            >Your frown deepened.

                                            “Why not?”

                                            >“I just can’t, okay?” she said sternly as she gently pulled away and lifted off of the ground into another hover.

                                            “Dash, what’s-”

                                            >“I can’t get into it right now,” she interrupted, locking eyes with you. “I will eventually, but not right now. Everything is just all jumbled n’ all over the place right now and I just… /need/ to get this stunt down.”

                                            >The expression she held was multifaceted in both confusion and irritation.

                                            >Whatever it was, it overwhelmed her.

                                            >You weren’t sure what to say as you stood up again.

                                            “…Okay,” you finally replied, disheartened. “I mean, it’s… almost seven, though. Aren’t we getting dinner?”

                                            >Dash winced.

                                            >“I think I’m gonna stay and practice some more,” she said as she gained height. “Can you get me something? I’ll eat it when I get back to your place.”

                                            >Try as you might’ve to have kept up appearances, your expression couldn’t help but turn sour.

                                            “It’ll be cold,” you deliver monotonically.

                                            >“Eh, you know me. I’ll still eat it.”

                                            >You couldn’t help but gawk at her. The only look being returned to you was a pained smile.

                                            >A multitude of conclusions were leapt to in your head, none of them pleasant.

                                            >You weren’t scared of any disloyalty, obviously. Rather, you looked inward, and found old insecurities clawing their way up from deep within the recesses of your memory.

                                            >With a sigh, though, you enabled a sort of heightened ignorance - it wouldn’t do to have any of those resurface again.

                                            “Alright,” you said in defeat. “Don’t stay out too late, Dash.”

                                            >As you turned to leave, you just barely saw her crooked grin fall.

                                            >You didn’t get more than a few steps away before she called out to you again.

                                            >“I love you, big guy!”

                                            >You spun around on your heels, walking backwards for a moment. You couldn’t focus on her expression - your mind was elsewhere.

                                            “Love you too.”

                                            >Unceremoniously, you whipped back around, wondering if that imitation meat place on the edge of town was still open.


                                            —


                                            >Her hayburger sat at the end of your dining table, undisturbed in its packaging.

                                            >Cold, just as promised. After three hours, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t.

                                            >At the other end sat you, reading a book you were pretending to be interested in.

                                            >You couldn’t name any of the characters, what was happening, who was against who - nor did you really care that much.

                                            >The house was dreadfully quiet when it was missing one of its usual voices. In its place, the settling wood spoke its grainy mutterings. It was, decidedly, a poor conversationalist.

                                            >Dash didn’t officially live with you, but she might as well have been.

                                            >You even had a little bed for Tank set aside for when she’d stay here for a week or two at a time.

                                            >The thought might’ve brought a smile to your face, if it hadn’t been for her bizarre behavior earlier.

                                            >‘What’s going on…?’ you thought. ‘Is it me? Did I do something wrong?’

                                            >You shut the book without fanfare and tossed it up onto the table. It clattered on its edges for a split second before settling, the sound stirring up the dust in your ears.

                                            >With a turn of your head, you took a peek at the clock - it was almost ten thirty.

                                            >The windows had since blackened, the only light outside being the crepuscular illuminance of Luna’s moon.

                                            >‘Is she seriously still out practicing?’ you wondered, unable to sit still.

                                            >…

                                            >All at once, your frustrations came to a head as you all but leapt from your chair.

                                            >Sitting still was no longer something you could stomach - you were going back out to that field and dragging her home if you had to.

                                            >You grabbed your coat from the nearby rack and donned it in a single, swift flourish.

                                            >Single-mindedly, you made for your shoes, slipping them on in the span of a second or two.

                                            >You threw the door wide, more than ready to go looking for your mare, but you only made it a few steps into the cool night air before you noticed someone standing in your walkway.

                                            >The door behind you clicked shut as you drank in as much detail as the dull glow of the moon would allow.

                                            >It didn’t take long to recognize the mare standing before you.

                                            “Dash?”

                                            >Even from where you stood, you could hear her shaky, somewhat labored breathing disrupting the stillness of the night.

                                            >She was trying her best to keep her head high, but it was clear that she had run herself ragged after you left.

                                            >Her wings were half-unfurled, hanging listlessly out to her sides. Her workout bag, normally fastened to her barrel, hung similarly limp.

                                            >Perhaps worst of all, those deep magenta globes you loved getting lost in were disconcertingly agitated, nearly to the point of being bloodshot.

                                            >All of your worries crumbled to dust, all thoughts wilted into nebulous nothings.

                                            >All but one:

                                            >/Care for her/.

                                            >She sniffled abruptly, bringing you out of your stupor.

                                            “Babe, what hap-”

                                            >You made it exactly one step forward before she was upon you, belly-to-belly as she wrapped her forehooves around you in an iron grip.

                                            >The rush of air from her sudden movement slammed into you as you hugged her back, arms locked tightly onto her just below her extended wings.

                                            >A sudden weightlessness overtook your body as she angled her wings earthward in a powerful downward thrust, lifting the both of you into the air at an alarming speed.

                                            >You let out a yelp in surprise, but Dash paid you no mind as you rode the express train to heaven.

                                            >She’d done this before, on a number of occasions, but with one key difference - on all those previous outings, you had always downed a cloudwalking potion beforehand.

                                            “Dash!” you cried out as you struggled to hold on against the crushing g-force. “D-Dash, I don’t have a potion!”

                                            >She said nothing, her head pointed skyward as you blew past countless cloud formations.

                                            “/Rainbow/!”

                                            >“In my bag, little pocket!” she called out, still focused on drilling through the sky. “Hold on!”

                                            >You tightened your grip in response.

                                            >You knew she’d catch you if you fell, but the fact that Ponyville had become a tiny speck underneath you raised your heart rate quite considerably.

                                            >Before long, though, the two of you slowed to a leisurely pace, eventually coming to a hover near a wispy, delicate-looking patch of cloud.

                                            >Below you was the endless navy blue of an Equestrian night, dots of light interspersed frighteningly infrequently.

                                            >You held on for dear life as she straightened out, legs dangling over precious nothing.

                                            >“I got you,” she reassured you. “Think you can reach it?”

                                            “Y-Yeah…”

                                            >Against all of your survival instincts, you somehow managed to wrench your arm free of her barrel.

                                            >You unzipped the smallest pocket of the bag and dug around for a second before your fingers brushed against a cool, glassy surface.

                                            >When you found your grip, you fished it out and popped the lid with your thumb.

                                            >As it plummeted back down to the earth, you downed as much of the potion as you could, some of it escaping down your cheeks and onto your shirt.

                                            >When it was empty, you shoved the vial into her bag and zipped it shut. Your free arm clamped around Dash’s torso again, finding its home just underneath your other hand.

                                            “Alright,” you said, voice muffled against her tuft as a result of the awkward angle of her idle hovering. “S-Slowly.”

                                            >Precariously, she lowered you down until your shoe was touching the cloud.

                                            >You began to relax when you felt some resistance against the ball of your foot.

                                            >Mercifully, Dash must have felt your growing sense of ease through your close contact, as she hovered more directly over the cloud, allowing you to find your footing.

                                            >She didn’t let go of you, though - as she folded her wings back onto her sides, her unexpected weight toppled you, forcing you onto your back as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

                                            >The cloud felt like you were laying on top of a whisper, on something so delicate that it might have given way at any moment.

                                            >It never did, though.

                                            “Can I drink it on solid ground next time?,” you joked, struggling to get your breathing back to normal.

                                            >Dash said nothing - she only tightened her grip on you as you lazily rested your arms across her withers.

                                            >She shook under your touch. It was way colder at that elevation, sure, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what was causing it.

                                            “Babe, /what’s wrong/?” you asked, desperate to hear her answer.

                                            >Apart from a muffled apology that cast heat across your jugular, all you were met with was silence.

                                            >You moved one of your hands to her mane, stroking it with as much affection as your adrenaline-addled body could muster.

                                            “It's okay, babe. You know you can talk to me about any-”

                                            >“We should get married.”

                                            >https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BbTSKh_ANPU

                                            >You froze.

                                            >The hand you had moved to her hair slipped free and returned to your side as she propped herself up against your chest, looking down at you.

                                            >“I-I’ve been, uh…” she stuttered.

                                            >Her raspiness was more pronounced than usual; it threatened to stop your heart.

                                            >After a few moments, though, she gathered herself, a rosy red blush adorning her cheeks.

                                            >“I’ve been trying to figure out how to propose to you for, like, the last three months, but I just… I can’t figure out how I want to do it, even with the girls’ help.”

                                            >She facehoofed as her blush deepened.

                                            >“I’ve been going crazy trying to figure it out, dude. One day, I think I know what I want to do, and then the next, it’s something totally different! And when I finally make my mind up, somepony goes ‘oh, that’s not a very marely way to do it,’ and then I gotta start all over again!”

                                            >She heaved a sigh from deep within her chest, coating you in her charged, berry-scented breath.

                                            >“You know I’ve never been any good at mushy stuff like this. I don’t know how I want it all to happen, but… I know I want /you/. I love you, ya big dork. That’s never gonna change. So, just… however you want me to pop the question, just let me know, okay?”

                                            >That whole “never been any good this” shtick was a lie, and you both knew it. Case in point: right then and there.

                                            >Even so, you were silent for a moment as you drank in her features.

                                            >Your face burned in the fires of adoration, beset by the same rose-tinted hue that devoured much of her cheeks.

                                            >There were a lot of things you wanted to say to her, but at the moment, you could only think of one cheeky reply as you moved your hands beneath your head.

                                            “Go ahead.”

                                            >She froze atop you, a bewildered eyebrow having climbed higher.

                                            >“…Huh?”

                                            “Do it.”

                                            >“Do what?”

                                            >You giggled aloud, astounded at how thick she could be sometimes.

                                            “/Ask/.”

                                            >She looked around incredulously before refocusing on you.

                                            >“…Right now?”

                                            >You nodded.

                                            “Mhm. Right now.”

                                            >“…And you’re sure you’re okay with-”

                                            “Oh my God, Dash, please.”

                                            >“Okay, okay,” she capitulated. “Just making sure…”

                                            >She shuffled on top of you for a bit as she positioned her head squarely above yours. Micro-adjustments were made here and there that you could feel in the shifting weight on your chest, but eventually, she settled.

                                            >Her entire face was beet red, and as she loomed over you, you could see her swallowing in quick, nervous succession.

                                            >She took a deep breath into her lungs, and…

                                            >“Will you marry me, Anon?”

                                            >…

                                            >Oh, how you adored her.

                                            >Your Rainbow.

                                            >The one who cleared your skies.

                                            >You reached up and cupped her face in your hands. Even after her rigorous workout, her fur was softer than silk.

                                            >You gently guided her down to your level, closing your eyes as the distance between you dwindled.

                                            >She sank into you as your lips touched, and you felt her wings unfurl from her back and wrap around you, shielding you from the cold.

                                            >It wasn’t heated, borne of lustful desire, nor was it chaste and light - instead, it was firm, reassuring…

                                            >/Enduring/.

                                            >As you parted from her with a wet pop, you couldn’t help but gaze into those magenta globes you loved getting lost in.

                                            “You know I will, Rainbow.”


                                            - two of six complete -