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paterson-blue · 3 years ago

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Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @millenialcatlady @jynzandtonic @peachyproserpina

#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years ago

Note

Romanced companions react to a sole who is afraid of thunder/rad storms. How would they comfort them?

This is something I think about a lot when I’m playing the game, actually, so I really enjoyed writing it! I haven’t written anything fluffy in a really, really long time (I’m talking years here lol) so it was a nice change of pace! Hope you like it!😸

Fo4 Companions React: (Romanced) Companions Comforting Sole During a RadStorm

Sole and their companion were just leaving their newly acquired settlement, Outpost Zimonja, when it suddenly started getting dark. The sky had also turned a yellow/green hue. A rad storm was rapidly rolling in. Sole and their companion decided to stay at the Outpost for the night to wait out the storm. As soon as the storm started, Sole huddled in the corner of the makeshift shack, near the foot of the bed. They began shaking violently.

Curie: “Oh, my love. What’s wrong?” Curie sat down next to her shaking lover and gave them little pecks on the head. She then ran her hand through their hair and pulled them close. “Oui, these storms can be quite frightening. But do not fret; we are safe.” She continued to pet her partner’s hair and plant gentle kisses on the top of their head. “These storms are intimidating, but if you close your eyes and ignore the thunder, it can be quite beautiful; I find the pattering of the rain to be calming.” Sole listened to Curie and closed their eyes, focusing on the sound of the raindrops tapping on the roof of the shack. It reminded them of the old days when Sole would lie in bed with [Nate/Nora] and listen to the sound of the storm outside. This memory put them to sleep. Several hours later, Sole awoke to a sweet kiss on the forehead. They opened their eyes and saw Curie staring right back at them. She giggled, “I hope you enjoyed your siesta, love. The storm has already passed.”

Preston: “General? You okay?” Preston cautiously approached a fear-stricken Sole. He sat down next to them. “Babe?” He wrapped an arm around Sole, “It’s going to be okay. We’re safe in here. I promise.” The two sat in silence and listened to the storm. With each roar of thunder, Sole shook more violently. Preston knew he had to do something. He suddenly remembered a recent trade he made with Trashcan Carla. He reached into his inventory and pulled out the game Blast Radius. “Hey, look what I got,” Preston laughed as his partner raised their eyebrow quizzically. “Wanna play? I’m the Blast Radius master.” Sole accepted the challenge and engaged in a heated game with Preston. The first game lasted around 5 minutes, with Preston easily defeating Sole. “See, I told you,” he bragged, “no one’s ever beaten me.” Sole challenged him to a rematch and Preston won yet again. “Best 6 out of 10?” He joked. Sole accepted. The two continued to play for about an hour when the storm started to clear up. “Look, General. The rad storm passed!” Preston commented. “Do you still want to continue playing?”

Cait: “Aw come on now! Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunderstorm!” When Cait noticed that her partner didn’t acknowledge her teasing like they usually did, she knew something was wrong. “Don’t worry, darlin. A little storm never hurt anyone. How many times have ye heard of someone dyin from a rad storm?” She waited for Sole to answer. “Well, I’ve never. Now, how many times have you heard of people dyin in the hands of raiders and ferals? I’d reckon a lot, yeah?” Sole looked at Cait. She smirked. “And ye fight those bastards every day! So what are ye doin cowering over a boom in the sky and a little light show? This ain’t nothin to cry over, [beautiful/handsome].” Sole smiled and Cait ruffled their hair. “There’s that sexy smile I love!” She planted a rough kiss on their cheek and laughed. “Next time you cry over a little rain and rumblin, I’ll give ye somethin to blubber about!”

Hancock: “What’s up, doll?” Hancock sat next to his lover and pulled them close. When he felt how much they were shaking, he was immediately concerned. “Woah, woah, hey now. It’s going to be okay. Chill out. Deep breaths.” Hancock gently rubbed his partner’s back as he guided their breathing. “One in...one out...one in...one out.” When Sole had regulated their breathing and stopped shaking, Hancock looked at them in the eyes. “Are you okay now? Do you want jet or somethin to get you through this?” Sole answered, and Hancock gave them a loving kiss on the forehead. “I’m just lookin out for ya, gorgeous.” He grabbed Sole’s hand and held it tight. “I feel ya. I used to be scared of these shitstorms too. But I just kinda got used to them. I’m sure you will, too.” A few minutes later, the rain subsided and the sky started to clear up. Hancock smiled, “Looks like the ride is over. And see? You made it out just fine.”

Gage: “Boss, you’re really letting a little thunder bangin and lightning flashin get to your head?” When Sole didn’t answer, the raider sighed. He then had an idea. “This shed is mostly wood, right? If ya want, I can show you how to carve some art with a switchblade. Knife art, I like to call it.” Sole nodded and watched their partner meticulously carve gang signs into the woodwork of the shack. When he had finished his first carving, he turned to Sole, “Ya wanna give it a shot?” Sole agreed and accepted the knife. Gage held Sole’s carving hand and steadily guided them. “Good work, boss,” Gage said, admiring the skull he and Sole had carved together, “That’s some impressive shit right there.” The two continued to decorate the wooden frames and walls when the storm eventually ceased. “Looks like it cleared up.” Gage looked around, admiring the art that he and his partner created. “And look at these carvings.” He gave his partner a quick peck on the cheek, “Some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Danse: “Soldier? What’s the matter?” When Sole didn’t respond, Danse sat down next to them and put a protective arm around them, dropping his usually stiff demeanor. “You’re scared of the storm?” Sole nodded and Danse pulled them close. “You’re okay,” he reassured, “I’m going to teach you a skill I learned in boot camp, alright? We’re going to look at the sky and we’re going to count the number of seconds between each flash of lightning and each rumble of thunder. Understand?” Sole nodded. “If you do that and then divide the number by 5, you can figure out how close the storm is.” He and Sole counted together. The number of seconds between the sounds of thunder quickly dropped from ten to six, to four. When the count reached one, Sole latched onto their lover, burying their face into his chest. He gently pet their hair and continued to count. Sure enough, the seconds between the thunder grew, from three to seven, to eleven. The rain started letting up, and the sky started returning to its normal shade of blue. Danse let go of his lover, looked at them, and smirked, “I knew you could brave the storm, soldier. Outstanding job. I’m proud of you.”

Piper: “Aw, it’s okay Blue! Come here dollface.” Piper opened her arms to her lover, which they gratefully crawled into. “We just need to find a way to distract you from this storm, right?” The reported racked her brain for some ideas, and then lit up. “Oh! I know! I play this game with Nat all the time. It’s called Story Switch. I’ll start off telling a story, and then when the thunder roars, we switch off and you have to finish where I left off. Then, when the thunder roars again, I pick up where you left off! Ready?” Piper dramatically cleared her throat. “Once upon a time, there was a Supermutant named Reginald. Reginald was—“ the thunder roared. “Okay, Blue! Your turn!” The two continued this game for about an hour; when one narrative died, they began another one. Eventually, the storm moved out. Piper smiled and kissed her partner lovingly. “Look! We’re all clear! We survived the big, bad rad storm!”

MacCready: “Hey, hey , hey,” MacCready began, “You’ve fought ferals, supermutants, stingwings, deathclaws...don’t tell me you’re scared of a little rad storm!” Suddenly, thunder sounded and lightning lit up the sky. Sole grabbed onto MacCready’s arm and buried their face in his shoulder. He could tell his lover was truly terrified. “Shh, it’s okay,” MacCready reassured, rubbing Sole’s back. He thought for a moment and then smiled. “Hey! You know what I found here while you were building up this settlement?” Sole looked up to see their partner fishing through his bag. He pulled out a comic book. “Astoundingly Awesome Tales #7: Sinister Seafood Strikes Back. One of my personal favorites. I think you’d like it too. Let’s read it together.” By the time the couple had finished the comic, Sole had learned how to do more damage at night and the rad storm had completely passed. MacCready pecked Sole’s cheek. “See? That wasn’t bad, now was it?”

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #piper #cait #maccready #preston garvey #gage #porter gage #radstorm

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shinshun-chanson-show · 3 years ago

Text

＠Hurricane ハリケーン

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpZvg_FjL3Q

ボブ・ディランの歌��、ボクサーのルービン・カーター（ハリケーンはニックネーム）が冤罪で捕まった時の物語。

事件は1966年で、ルービンは74年に自伝を書いており、88年に冤罪が晴れた。事件の中身はこの歌のとおりで、拘束されたのが28歳の時だから、それからの22年は長すぎた。

ボクサーとしての道も絶たれた。

99年には「ザハリケーン」という映画も作られた。

This is a song of Bob Dylan. In 1966, a black boxer, Rubin Carter (hurricane is his nickname) was arrested with a false charge.

Rubin wrote autobiography in 1974, and was set free in1988.

He was 28 years old when he was arrested, and was in jail for 22 years.

Of course, his life as a boxer finished.

黒人差別は今もアメリカの大きな問題である。黒人青年が警官に殺されたことをきっかけに起こった「ブラック・ライブズ・マター」運動は続いている。

ただ私は黄色人種の立場で思う。黒人も私たちを差別していると。黒人に襲われて日本人のピアニストがピアニスト生命を絶たれた。そのことを彼らはどう思っているのだろうか。

Discrimination for black people is a big problem in the US.

Black lives matter movement will be continued.

But I know black people also discriminate, mainly yellow people like us.

The other day, a Japanese pianist was attacked by black people and they broke his shoulder.

The life as a pianist finished for him.

I want to know what black people think about that.

歌詞と訳

Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night

Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall.

She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,

Cries out, "My god, they killed them all!"

Here comes the story of the Hurricane,

The man the authorities came to blame

For somethin' that he never done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been

The champion of the world.

Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see

And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously.

"I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands

"I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand."

"I saw them leavin'," he says, and he stops

"One of us had better call up the cops."

And so Patty calls the cops

And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin'

In the hot New Jersey night.

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town

Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around.

Number one contender for the middleweight crown

Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down

When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road

Just like the time before and the time before that.

In Paterson that's just the way things go.

If you're black you might as well not show up on the street

'less you wanna draw the heat.

Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.

Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around

He said, "I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights

They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates."

And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head.

Cop said, "Wait a minute, boys, this ones not dead!"

So they took him to the infirmary

And though this man could hardly see

They told him that he could identify the guilty men.

Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in,

Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.

The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye

Says, "What'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!"

Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane,

The man the authorities came to blame

For somethin' that he never done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been

The champion of the world.

Four months later, the ghettos are in flame,

Rubins in South America, fightin' for his name

While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game

And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame.

"Remember that murder that happened in a bar?

Remember you said you saw the getaway car?

You think you'd like to play ball with the law?

Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?

Don't forget that you are white."

Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure."

Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break

We got you for the motel job and were talkin' to your friend Bello

Now you don't wan'ta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.

You'll be doin' society a favor.

That son-of-a-bitch is brave and gettin' braver.

We want to put his ass in stir

We want to pin this triple-murder on him

He ain't no Gentleman Jim.

Rubin could take a man out with just one punch

But he never did like to talk about it all that much.

"It's my work," he'd say, "and I do it for pay.

And when its over I'd just as soon go on my way

Up to some paradise

Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice

And ride a horse along a trail."

But then they took him to the jailhouse

Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.

All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance

The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.

The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums

To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum

And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger.

No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.

And though they could not produce the gun,

The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed

And the all-white jury agreed.

Rubin Carter was falsely tried.

The crime was murder one, guess who testified?

Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied

And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.

How can the life of such a man

Be in the palm of some fool's hand?

To see him obviously framed

Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land

Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties

Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise

While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell

An innocent man in a living hell.

That's the story of the Hurricane,

But it won't be over 'till they clear his name

And give him back the time he's done.

Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been

The champion of the world.

ピストルの音が鳴る　夜のバーで

上のフロアからパティ・ヴァレンタインが入ってきて

血の海の中のバーテンダーを見て

叫んだ「なんなの？みんな殺されている」

こうしてハリケーンの物語が始まる

権力が罪を負わせた人

彼のやってないことで

監獄の独房に入れた　でも彼は一度は

世界チャンピオンになれたのだ

3人の身体が横たわっているのをパティは見る

ベロという名の別の男が怪しく動き回っている

「俺がやったのじゃない」と彼は言い両手をあげる

「レジの金を結んでいただけだ　わかってほしい」

「奴らが出ていくのを見た」と言って立ち止まる

「誰か警官を呼んだ方がいいのじゃないか」

それでパティは警官を呼ぶ

警官は赤いライトをつけてそこに到着する

暑いニュージャージーの夜に

そのとき町の遠く離れた場所で

ルビン・カーターと2人の仲間が車に乗っていた

ミドル級チャンピオンの第一挑戦者は

どんなバカげたことが起ころうとしているか知るはずもなかった

警官が彼の車を道の脇に寄せた時

以前もその前も同じだったように

パターソンではそれは普通のことだ

黒人なら道には出ない方がいい

尋問をされたくなければ

アルフレッド・ベロはパートナーがいて彼には警察から容疑がかかっていた

彼とアーサー・デクスター・ブラドリーはただうろついていた

彼は言った「二人の男が走って逃げるのを見た、ミドル級くらいだった

州外ナンバーのっ白い車に飛び乗った」

パッティ・ヴァレンタインはただうなづいた

警官は言った「待てよ　こいつはまだ死んでいない」

それで彼を病院に運んだ

この男はほとんど見えていなかったが

彼らは言った

こいつが犯人を見分けられるだろうと

朝の4時に彼らはルビンを連れてくる

病院に連れてきて2階に上げる

ケガした男は死にそうな片��で見上げて

言う「なんのためにこいつを連れてきた？こいつは犯人じゃない」

そう　これがハリケーンの物語

権力が罪を負わせた人

彼のやってないことで

監獄の独房に入れた　でも彼は一度は

世界チャンピオンになれたのだ

4か月後スラム街は燃えている

南米でルビンは戦って名をあげる

アーサー・デクスター・ブラドリーはまだ盗みをしている

警官は彼を締め上げ、罪を着せる奴を探している

「バーの殺人を覚えているか？

逃げる車を見たと言ったのを覚えているか

法律とうまくやっていきたいよな

あの夜逃げるのを見たのはあの拳闘家だとは思わないか

自分が白人ということを忘れるな」

アーサー・デクスター・ブラドリーは言った「よくわからない」

警官は言った「お前のような貧しい奴は休暇が必要だ

お前にはモーテルの仕事をやったし友人のベロにも話した

もう監獄には戻りたくないだろう　いいやつになれ

社会に貢献しろ

あのクソ野郎は傲慢だ　ますます傲慢になっている

奴の尻を蹴って監獄に入れたい

3人殺しは奴に押し付けたい

奴は紳士のジムじゃない」

ルビンは一発で相手を倒せた

でもそのことをあまり言いたがらなかった

「俺がやった」彼は言った「金のために

終わったらすぐに出ていく　

どこかいいところに

ニジマスのいる小川

空気のいいところに

道沿いに馬に乗る」

でも彼らは彼を監獄に入れた

そこで人間をネズミに変える

ルビンのカードは全部前もってマークされていた

裁判は豚のサーカス　彼には運がなかった

裁判官はルビンの目撃者をスラムの酔っぱらいだと言った

白人にとって彼は革命を起こす浮浪者だった

黒人にとってはただの狂った黒人だった

彼が引き金を引いたと誰も疑わなかった

銃は見つからなかったけれど

判事は彼がやったと言った

全員白人の陪審員は同意した

ルビン・カーターは冤罪でつかまった

罪は第一級殺人　誰が証言したかって？

ベロとブラドリーがひどい嘘をついた

新聞はみなそれに賛成した

どうやってそんな男の命が

バカな奴の手のひらに乗るのか

彼がはめられたのは確かだ

私はこんな国に生まれたのが恥ずかしい

正義はただのゲームなのだ

今罪人はみなコートとネクタイをして

自由にマティニを飲み夜明けを見る

ルビンは１０フィートの独房で仏陀みたいに座る

生き地獄の無実の男

それがハリケーンの物語

でもそれは彼の名が消えるまで終わらない

彼の時間を取り戻すまで

独房に入れられたけれど　かつては

世界チャンピオンになれた男

#bob dylan #hurricane

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