#farmhand! Curtis

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 3: Outskirts

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: You’re enjoying your time growing close with Curtis, until you learn something new about his friends and family that sets off an intense weekend

Word count: 4,510

Content/warnings: Teasing, kissing, mentions and consumption of alcohol, swears, kidnapping, rude people, observations, tiredness, mentions of the mob and light mob themes

Author’s Note: Takes place at the same time as Ch. 7 of The Rainmaker and Ch. 10 of YCMBWH

I can’t wait to hear your feedback in all forms! Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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You could consciously feel the way your body started to ignore the sound of metal clanging echoing through the garage on another Wednesday afternoon. Another day of Curtis walking you through repair steps, and every part of the engine, and demonstrating how they’ve all changed since your old truck was made, comparing it to the more modern versions sitting at the other stations.

Curtis was about to walk you over to the other, newer truck in the shop this morning for the third time when you cut him off.

“So it’s done, right? Everything looks in place, you just keep tightening random bolts, except the wrench doesn’t move, so that means it’s done… right?”

For someone who had just been rattling off every known fact about trucks that he could think of, Curtis was oddly quiet now. Silent. And looking at your feet until you placed your hand under his chin, bringing it back up. You scrunched your nose and tilted your head to the side, looking into his mischievously knowing eyes that simply blinked at you. Every time those irises are revealed, it’s dangerous, and he knows it, but you’re the one winning right now.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve been finished with my truck for hours. Probably even days. Or perhaps weeks.”

He nodded, moving to put his hands on your hips, then thinking better from the grease caked into them, placing them on his own hips of his coveralls instead. “Yeah.”

You leaned in to give him a kiss on the nose, returned by raised, expectant eyebrows from you not leaning in for a full kiss.

“See? I listen. I pay attention. Caught everything you said. Now clean up and tell one of your boys they’re taking over for you today. I’ve got something special planned.”

Curtis smiled brightly. That was your favorite, a beautiful change from his normal serious face. He laughed all the time; with family, with friends, with you, but each smile was still a treat.

“Something special? For me?”

You nodded, smiling right back. “You bet. So go home, get showered, and I’ll do the same. Then I’m picking you up and we’re gonna head out because I finally have a car again.”

You closed the hood of the vehicle, grabbing the keys off his work bench, before giving him a quick peck on the lips and hopping up into your truck. He kept standing there, hands on his hips, shaking his head and laughing. Dang, he couldn’t pull one over on you, that was for sure, but he was excited for what the day held.

You pulled up in front of Curtis’s place, a small single-story home on a neighborhood street at the edge of town. After all this time, you were surprised you hadn’t seen it before. It had been over a month, after all. Most times, he really just came to your place, or took you over to the farm house, where you’d been much more often lately, keeping Bee company while Curtis did farm chores.

You turned off the truck and walked up to the front door, Curtis coming out onto the porch before you could even get there. He trotted down the steps to meet you on the walkway, reaching out his hand for yours, and using it to pull you close to him, finally perching his hands on your waist. He stood there, eyes looking between yours as the two of you swayed back and forth.

“So you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

You shook your head, snaking your hands around his waist, as well, tracing upward to feel the firm muscles of his broad back. You could physically feel the way he began to relax in your touch before you pulled away abruptly, seeing him rise an inch from tensing up again.

“Not a chance. Now get in the truck, can’t be late!”

Curtis groaned playfully and walked, taking his sweet time after you’d pulled away from him and ran to the car, rolling the windows down.

You pulled out of his driveway and started on your way, hoping you could remember the relatively simple directions since you didn’t want to give it away by putting it in the GPS.

The drive was pleasant, like all the others before, but this time, you got to savor sporadic glances at Curtis enjoying the landscape. Most of the time, it was you sitting close to him, staring out at the scenery, but with you driving, you got to see things from his side, and you loved it. He kept himself close on the bench seat, too, his arm over across the back of it, drawing circles on your other shoulder.

The breeze blew through the cabin, slowing down as you turned into the parking lot of the local distillery. Of course Curtis knew where you were going the entire time, but he let you be excited and proud of yourself for the destination. It was somewhere he’d never seen the inside of yet.

You pulled into the lot and threw your truck in park, finally turning to face him as much as you could in the seat.

“Surprise! One of the brand distributors came by the other day and offered us a free tour of the place. Plus, at the end, there’s an extra special surprise I negotiated with him for you.”

Curtis smiled and leaned in to kiss your nose at the bright look on your face. “Extra special, huh? We should get going.”

You went to turn and open your door when Curtis stopped you. “No, you already drove and surprised me with this. Let me at least do one nice thing for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you rolled up the windows and watched him scoot across the bench and out of the truck. Curtis could faintly hear your voice from the outside, saying, “You already covered my truck repairs. I think you’ve done enough,” as your arms were crossed and your gaze followed his walk around to your side.

He opened your door and helped you down, keeping your hand in his. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch what you said. Was it ‘never enough?’ I could never do enough for you? Because I agree.”

You took a step to bump your shoulder into his for the purposeful mishearing and continued to the door of the distillery.

The tour was great. The distributor you had met walked you and Curtis through the entire distillation process, showing you how they got the signature flavor and the differences between the batches.

At the end of it, he took you and Curtis to a back room with a bar and a bunch of whiskey barrels. Empty glass bottles lined the walls and you could see a bunch of mixing equipment all around. Curtis looked over to you with a curious cocked brow.

The two of you took your seats as the distributor walked you through the meanings of small batches, letting you pick your bottles and mix whatever barrels together that you wanted to create the best flavor. You had pulled him to the side, though, to ask a question, to which he happily nodded, bring out a third bottle and setting it in the counter. Curtis looked at you with a curious tilt of his head.

“What’s that one for?”

You shrugged. “Your cousin. I know her reserve of the good stuff has been getting low. Peter, that new little farmhand, told me she takes a shot with him after every time that Cole guy visits. I hope that’s over soon, though, he seems…how do I say this? Okay, don’t judge me for it, because I don’t want to put down the company she keeps…but, kind of awful? Despite all the gifts? Like, she’s miserable lately. Every time I see her, it’s like there’s a cloud over her head.”

Curtis dismissively nodded to you, although he didn’t really want to. He knew what was going on with Cole, and with Bee, but he hadn’t told you yet. He just wanted to enjoy this great gift with you first, and then he’d let you know. It was sort of important for what was coming this weekend with Decks coming into town, but instead of dumping all the information now, he just settled with, “well I think that’s a great idea. You’re right, she’s due for a new bottle and I think she’ll love it.”

His face was even, stoic almost, but you let it slide. It had been a long day, and maybe the two of you just needed to get out of here and eat.

Once you’d filled your unique, ornate glassware, they sealed and wrapped them up for you to take home.

As you were walking through the parking lot, skipping ahead of Curtis, who was carrying the three boxes with your precious bottles as he’d insisted, his face looked…concerned? Pulled in on itself.

Opening up the back door of the truck and sliding in the three boxes under the seat, you stopped Curtis from walking away when he had handed you the third one.

“Hey, hey. Wait up. What’s going on? Did you not like this? Was it too much?”

Curtis propped his one hand up against the side of the truck, hardly caging you in, more for his own support as he looked down at the ground. He sighed, thinking for a moment. Ain’t no time like the present.

“No, no. Not at all. Nothing like that. Just…what you said about Bee in there. I think she’ll really appreciate it, and I think she really appreciates you and the way you’ve been around for her, even if it’s only been a little, since Bucky left.”

Ah, so some of this was about Bucky? You turned around from tucking in the boxes, shutting the half door and leaning up against the driver’s side, trying to catch Curtis’s eyes.

“Well, I just did what any good friend would do. I think she’d do the same if you dropped off the face of the earth.”

Curtis looked up at you with a grimace. “True. But you should know, Bucky’s coming back.”

You perked up, running your hands up and down the front of Curtis’s shirt, trying to relax him, understand why he was having the physical reaction he was.

“Curtis, that’s great! Why do you look like it’s not?”

He looked up at the sky for a second, moving his hands to his pockets and standing up straight.

“Well, because he’s not coming back to the farm under the best circumstances. Why don’t we get in the car and I’ll tell you more on the way to the farm.”

You nodded, your face still covered in a tentative uncertainty of what he could be referring to, before you put your keys into his outstretched hand. No use driving if you were gonna swerve at some apparent earth-shattering news.

On the way to the farm, Curtis told you everything. Who Bucky truly was, the nature of his dealings with Bee, and how it all related to Cole and some guy named Lloyd.

As you were pulling into the long driveway to the farm, you had your eyes closed and your hand on your forehead, trying to remember the onslaught of information.

“So Bucky’s in the mob?”

“Yeah.”

“And Bee is partnered with him?”

“Right.”

“And Cole, who’s also a jerk you went to high school with, wants to take Bee’s farm?”

“Mhm.”

“And some dude named Lloyd, who’s associated with Cole, is Bucky’s…how would you even say this…mob nemesis?”

“Correct.”

“And Bucky used to date Lloyd’s sister?”

“See, that’s where I’m not sure. I’ve got my suspicions, but neither of them said such outright.”

You nodded along, seeing it all line up. “And Bee made a bet against the farm for both Cole and Lloyd to step away, once and for all? And that’s taking place this weekend? And Decks is playing in her place?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

You blew out a breath as you pulled up to the farm house, Bee and Peter already waiting outside to greet you since you’d all be having dinner together tonight.

“Well dang, I think we might need to crack that new bottle open already.”

Curtis gave a half-hearted laugh, opening up the car door and preparing to greet his cousin. “I think you might be right about that one.”

The weekend came, and preparations for the bet were in order. You had spent the previous night at Curtis’s house so he could get you up early to take you to the farm since he had chores and you had some last-minute details to smooth out. Bee had been busy the rest of the week doing farm chores, preparing to have this weekend open, so this was the first time you were going to hear the whole plan of the day.

Decks, Bee’s college roommate, was going to be coming into town for a single game of pool, winner takes all. You’d met her once before, and she seemed nice, but this entire ordeal felt…intense… and you felt terrible that it seemed like it all fell on the poor girl’s shoulders.

Far too early for your liking, considering you’d worked a shift the previous night, Curtis drove you over, dropping you off in the living room with a kiss, before heading out for the first round of chores. You took a quick nap on the couch before you were gently woken up by Curtis, already back from his morning rounds.

He took you out to the front porch where you sat bundled up in the blanket you had snatched, talking with Peter in mild conversation. He was a sweet kid, more than willing to do whatever was asked of him, but poor thing had been away from home for a month. Hopefully when today and everything was over, he’d get to go back home, but from the way he talked, you could tell he wasn’t sure if that would happen, either.

You watched as Curtis went up to chat with his cousin, the two of them watching a Black SUV pull into the driveway. Out of it stepped Steve, who you remember being alongside Decks the first time you met the two of them. Well, technically the only time. He happily greeted them before you were directed to come into the house and start making plans while Curtis stayed on the porch.

As you were sitting there on a stool around the kitchen table, you were half listening. Your brain was still tired, trying to catch up, but you were just there enough to comprehend and plan out the day. Apparently, Decks was coming soon in a car with Bucky, but you found it weird that she wouldn’t accompany Steve. They were all coming from the same place, right? So why drive separately? Ah, and then Bee said it. Decks was mad at Steve. Wonder what that was about.

Either way, they were set to arrive soon, but all you knew was that Decks was to be kept in the right mental state to win the game. That was the main focus. To get just the right mood and to distract the competitors, though, she needed the right clothes, but it didn’t sound like she had been informed of it yet, so you raised a question to Bee.

“So how are we going about that? If you didn’t already ask her to bring a dress?”

She smiled over to you, probably grateful you’d finally joined in on the conversation even if your voice was still raspy with sleep. “That’s the thing, I was hoping you might have a good outfit in mind. Something cute, but not too revealing. Comfortable in fit, but not in style. Shorts underneath, of course.”

You smiled back. “I think I have just the thing. But also, aren’t you a little worried to be doing this all in public? The bar will be busy tonight, I’m working, and I know they’re not gonna shut it down since it’s such short notice.”

You were nervous. This all felt like such a huge deal now that today was the day. The actual consequences, and your proximity to it were sinking in, but you were sure it was nothing compared to what poor Decks was going through. Being mad at Steve, plus having to see him today, plus being responsible for saving the farm? You were lucky you and Curtis were so far removed compared to that.

You watched her think for a second. “Well I assume a public environment makes them less likely to pull anything over on us, plus Bucky is sending a bunch of guards. But I’d rather have several of witnesses if I get shot-“ she gasped, looking at everyone with wide, imploring eyes, “but don’t tell Decks that’s a possibility! Don’t even plant a thought like that in her mind. Keep her feeling safe, and angry, and confident if you can. She needs it, okay? And if you forget your role, just remember it’s whatever Decks tells you to do, alright?”

You nodded. You’d do your best, but Peter seemed just as nervous as you about the whole thing. It was all put to a stop when you heard another car pulling into the driveway, though.

You walked out, watching Bee sprint to Bucky and jump into his arms. When they came back towards you, Bee stood by your side as Bucky quickly ran into the house. You watched as Peter went to get into the car to wake Decks, handing back a box of pastries to Bee that you gladly picked through, grabbing a croissant and offering Curtis a bite. As Decks emerged from the car, promptly after having decked poor Peter for waking her from her slumber, she greeted all of you, followed by snubbing Steve. Man, she really was mad.

Midday found you sitting in Curtis’s lap in the porch swing, listening to the ongoing conversations of the friends, catching up on what happened within the last month between planning events for the day. Everyone was heading out to do their own tasks, as Steve asked you for the keys to your apartment to set up for the afternoon where you and Bee would be taking Decks to eat and get dressed for tonight’s match.

Curtis had to leave you, heading back out for another round of chores with Peter, so you went to sit on the couch for a little while until Bee had a request.

“Hey Cherry, I’m not sure how Decks will react if I go up there. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one of us around that she doesn’t have a vendetta against, so could you grab her and tell her it’s time to head to your place?”

You nodded, immediately getting up and heading towards the steps, because if you hovered in anticipation, it probably wouldn’t happen. You were a little scared of Decks right now, with how angry she seemed this morning.

When you got to the door, you knocked softly, peeking in to see her sprawled over the bed. You spoke softly, with a smile on your face in an attempt to placate her.

“Hey, Decks. I know you’re probably in game mode, but Bee thought it might be a good idea for you to come over to my place. We can pick you out a nice outfit for tonight. Eat something, maybe? It’s my understanding you haven’t had anything since early this morning and apparently, from what I’ve been told, ‘the good stuff’ is waiting for you at my apartment. And it’s no boys allowed for this afternoon. You get to do whatever you need to get in the zone without distraction. How does that sound?”

She shot up from the comforter, and that was the first time you got a good look at her face today. She looked exhausted, and distraught. You were sure some time with just the girls might help, though, and you were more than willing to do her makeup if that’s what she wanted to feel her best.

You ran down the steps and out the front door where Bee was waiting for you in her truck. You hopped up and slid towards the middle.

“She coming down?”

You nodded, double checking the clock on the dash. Looked like you’d have plenty of time to relax at your place.

“Yeah, but I gotta tell you, she’s not looking so hot. Like, I know I’ve only met her once, but she looks worse than you did the first week Bucky left.”

Bee rolled her eyes with a light scoff. “Cherry, I was not that bad. I was fine.”

You tilted your head to the side. “I feel like we’re good enough friends now that I can say you were miserable. Why do you think I came around so much? You needed someone, and I feel like Decks might, too, but she also seems to be shutting us all out.”

Bee sighed, drumming her fingertips against the wheel. “Okay, okay, yeah. Whatever, you’re kinda right. Just…we’ll figure it out. Cater to her at your place if we can. Be around but not too clingy. Hopefully Steve got her some stuff she’ll like.”

After her surprisingly kind agreement to you, you finally saw Decks emerging from the house, coming and sliding into the passenger side of Bee’s truck, squeezing you between the two of them. She was quiet, but ready to go.

The time at your apartment seemed to do her good. She enjoyed the pasta Steve had left for her, as well as the music played from the record player that had been dropped off. It made it much easier to get along as you and Bee shuffled through your closet, pulling out potential outfits before settling on a nice tennis dress with shorts underneath. Decks was surprisingly compliant and calm as you applied light makeup per Bee’s instructions, an attempt to do anything necessary to distract Cole and whoever he might be bringing. You kept in soft conversation and let Decks continue to play through vinyl records in York room until you all had to go to the bar for your shift and the impending game.

Once you walked in, you immediately went to clock in, leaving the other two girls to head towards the guys at the booth they’d found. Curtis was quick to come up to you, discussing all the plans one last time and informing you on all the failsafes Bucky had in place. You were relieved to have not seen Edgar on guard anywhere, given the night off and replaced by Bucky’s men. That was good, he didn’t need to be put in that kind of danger, but you had to carry on like nothing wrong was happening, so you did.

It was a busy Saturday night that had you slinging drinks like usual, as you tried to keep an eye on all the action. You watched Steve rush Decks off somewhere after putting his hat on her head. You were sure that didn’t mean what it usually would around here. Her head was down, but it didn’t seem like they were up to anything. Her mood was far too sour and somber for that. Maybe he had to show her something important, but whatever they had done in the break room worked, because she emerged from it with a vengeance and energy you hadn’t seen all day. You watched as two men came into the bar, heading straight for Bee and Bucky in the meantime, joining for the pool game.

To anyone else outside, it probably would’ve seemed like a normal-ish interaction. Sure, it was sort of stiff, but that’s because you were looking for those subtleties. That was the last thing you observed, though, as you heard a customer calling for you at the other end of the bar.

She was shorter, with dark hair and pleasant features, which probably could’ve been admired if you couldn’t taste the bitterness of her aura.

“Hi, what can I get for you?”

She rolled her eyes as if you were wasting her time by simply asking that. “I need a Gin Fizz, and I want it long shaken with egg white. And then I’m going to need a gin martini, extra dry, shaken as well.”

You nodded and got to work, pulling together the ingredients for drinks that were far from what people usually drank around here. She looked the part of what she ordered, too, with her whole ‘wealth whispers’ aesthetic of unbranded, yet crisp clothes. The type that you don’t know the brand, unless you’re in the know. Every so often, you’d get an out-of-towner like that, home to see family, or maybe someone else’s family, or just passing through, unable to find a better place to stop, so you didn’t question it so much as feel a little annoyed.

You took the time to shake the ridiculous drinks, after being interrupted by her probably four times with an adjustment, and then a change of mind just a second later. You were pulling out the special glassware she requested each be served in, which were not the traditional choices you had already put on the counter, when you heard commotion break out. You went to quickly pour the drinks, but when you looked to hand them over and she wasn’t there. You went to look for Curtis to see if he saw where she went, but when you turned towards his stool, he was gone, too. Beyond the view of the gap where Curtis just was, you could see Steve was dragging a flailing Decks towards the you and away from her pool game, grabbing her attention and slipping something into her hand.

Patrons began pulling away from the bar and towards the pool tables as you continued to try to look and find where Curtis went. Decks jumped behind the bar with you, her eyes frantically searching the immediate area, but her body was facing you.

“So tell me what happened. When did Curtis disappear? Did you see anything?”

You frantically shook your head, the worry and gravity setting in that she couldn’t find him either. “No, a-all I know is that some girl asked me to pour her a drink. She had a bunch of specifications, and when I made it and turned back around, Curtis was gone, and so was she.”

Decks looked at you with surprise and concern, and…fear? “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know? Kinda short, dark hair? Annoyingly fit? Now that I think about it, kinda like the female version of the guy you were playing pool against. That’s not a coincidence, is it?”

You watched as she threw her head back and grumbled loudly in the bar that was essentially in a huge fight now. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence and seemed pretty bad.

“Ah, shit.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: I really liked this chapter for Curtis and Cherry until…ya know…the end of it

Taglist: @evelineangel66 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[imaginedreamwrite]

I have an idea for a drabble for Curtis and snowbird:

I'd imagine before snowbird came along Curtis day was all work, necessary care to stay alive, sleep. Not much of fun downtime. Snowbird comes around and that changes. Not only do they go on trips or watch shows or cook together. No snowbird also makes him host parties/ get togethers with her. So for memorial day weekend they invite some friends and farmhands (plus family) to a BBQ and Curtis loves it

His ex-wife was a woman to get away from, a woman that he never really wanted to spend exuberant amounts of time with. Rather he’d find any excuse to avoid her and their time together when their relationship really started becoming chaotic and toxic. He had worked himself overtime to negate the way his marriage had become and the energy it took to keep his head above water with her.

That habit, it seemed, was hard to break even when he was in the best damn marriage he could have had. He had thrown himself into working the land he owned, taking care and raising the animals he bought and held in pastures, very often forgetting to care for himself.

“You’re going to burn yourself out.” Your message of concern was honest and real, it was rooted in worry that he was going to push himself beyond all limits until he completely crashed, and he welcomed your care for him.

“Let’s take a break then.”

Curtis was dragged out of the house by one of his hands’ wives, her insistence necessary to remove him from the kitchen when he tried an attempt at stealing a bacon wrapped scallop.

He was oddly nervous about taking this time off to breathe and enjoy the Montana sun, a strike of anxiety hitting him when it had sunk in that he would have a chance to be social and not have the topic of conversation rooted around ranching.

“Don’t miss an opportunity to be with your gorgeous wife on a day like today.” His hands’ wife scolded him with ease, knowing that Curtis cared about the wives just as he cared for the hands themselves.

“Look at her,” Curtis had muttered to himself more than to anyone else, self-commenting on the sight of you standing so free in the front of the house, “my wife…”

You were waiting for him in a soft little sundress with a deep V neckline, the straps of your dress overlain with lace and subtle ruffles. The skirt flounced around your lowers thighs softly, tracing the expanse of your skin that Curtis had spent hours, last night under the glow of the night sky, kissing and teasing.

“Mrs. Everett,” he stepped toward you and extended his hand for you to take, spinning you into his embrace and dipping you down, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you,” your reply was quick, your hands even quicker to yank his hat from his head and place it onto your own, “you’re a beautiful person, Curtis.”

He held you firmly and lowered his head to steal the first of many kisses, his lips grazing yours and his teeth nipping your plump lip to tease you. Your soft laugh against his kiss was endearing, it was genuinely the sound that he would wish to hear over and over again on a repeating track.

“Okay lovebirds, let’s have a toast first before we start public displays of affection.”

Curtis pulled away when prompted yet slipped an arm around you to keep close, using his free hand to accept a glass of wine. His fingers curled against the waist of your dress, feeling the seams beneath his fingertips and escaped into his head for the briefest moment as he wondered what it would be like to feel the flutter of a child.

“-thank you boss for the opportunity and help to buy a parcel of land for our family.” His oldest hire had raised a glass in cheers, thanking Curtis for the chance and the financial support to get started.

“Thank you Mrs. Everett for reminding Curtis to have fun every once in a while.” Another of the wives had jested with the truth, honestly grateful for your position here.

“This is my home, you’re my home.” You turned and whispered against his chest, speaking over his heart. “Curtis, this is everything I never knew I needed.”

“Happy summer, Mrs. Everett.”

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Impending Difficulties: I

Word Count: 2812

AN: Don’t hate me too much. XD

It had only been a few hours, but Kenny's brain couldn't seem to process anything but the encounter from before. 

It had been years. 

His grandfather never spoke about either of Kenny's siblings, never mentioned them, or even what had happened to them. During the launch of the failed mission, the one Kenny's parents never came back from, he found it weird that he didn't see his sister. His parents asked him about it but he could only shrug. He hadn't seen her in three years at that point. It was her birthday, but Kenny suspected they didn't know. 

Every memory Kenny had stored away in his brain was being taken out and being sorted through again. Unfortunately, the reason for the resorting came up empty when Kenny couldn't find what he needed. 

He couldn't remember his sister's face. 

Allie, who had been wandering the ship and the only one awake, passed by the bridge. Seeing Kenny leaned over, she thought nothing of it. This was the fifth time she passed the bridge, and Kenny still hadn't moved. On the sixth pass, Allie had two large cups. One of them had a tea bag string over the rim, the other did not. Both drinks were steaming and brown, albeit two different shades. 

With careful steps, Allie placed the cup with the teabag on the console desk in front of Kenny and walked away without another word. The pager on her belt made a sound, and Allie walked towards the observation room. 

In Kenny's mind, a brightness came over his memories. 

Laughter rang out in the juniberry fields on Uncle Lance's farm, chasing a dwarf around. Black hair in pigtails and a dress covered in red poppies. Tripping over something in the fields, Kenny landed face-first in the juniberries. Instead of complaining and standing up, he rolled over in the fields and stared at the never-ending blue sky. The dwarf he had been chasing toddled towards him with the biggest smile on her face. Letting a small giggle, she smacked her hand on Kenny's forehead. He laughed at the smack, staring at her face. It was blurry. He couldn't see anything past that big smile. 

"Klance!" A delighted squeal came from her mouth and she once again toddled forward. 

"Kenny, you okay?" Uncle Lance asked, bending over the fallen boy. His arms went to the little girl's waist and she was pulled higher and higher. Her squeals didn't seem to stop. 

"Yeah, I'm okay." Kenny used a hand to shield himself from the glaring sun to stare at his uncle and the little girl. She had turned her head away from Kenny, staring at something behind them. 

"Good." Lance readjusted the girl, who turned her focus to the man who had moved her from her perch on Lance's hip. "Ahora te paras o te paro!" In a flash, Kenny had stood, running towards Uncle Lance's house where the other farmhands (or cousins who needed something to do in the summer) were heading. Looking back at fields he'd left, Kenny saw the little girl had laid her head on Uncle Lance's shoulder, turning away again. 

In another memory, Kenny was sitting at a dinner table. The book work in front of him was unreadable, but he was counting his lucky stars that he wouldn't be doing whatever his brother was doing at the head of the table. The boy at the head had dark hair, wearing a red jacket with a green stripe around the middle. In front of him was an array of wires and connectors with a light bulb and two switches. One of the papers in front of Kenny was the answer sheet to his brother's problem. 

"Hey, Ky." The boy had looked up and said. Turning to a doorway that led to bedrooms, the little girl from before was rubbing her eyes. Her hair was a little longer but still styled in pigtails. Her jammies were a vibrant shade of seafoam, a gift from Uncle Lance. "Did we wake you up?" Without saying a word, the girl approached the boy, and he pulled her into his lap. She stared at the circuit board with bright, curious eyes. She noticed something off to the side and grabbed it. Attaching it to connectors in between the switches, she pointed at the switch to her right. Complying, the boy flipped the switch, and the light bulb lit. His face said it all. He had no idea what he was doing wrong. 

"Ky, what did you do?" By this point, the girl had covered her addition with her hands to keep it out of view of the boy. When she went to point, Kenny saw what it was. With a flourish, she held her hands up and almost smacked the older boy in the face.

"You were missing a power source," Kenny said for the girl, who had let her arms fall to her side and looked up at the boy. He had started rubbing his head, staring at the battery. Kenny remembered he was taking a double course load, something no one had done without losing sleep or sanity. 

"Kyla!" Kenny's mom came around the corner. Her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and her eyes matched the girl. The green long-sleeved shirt and the oversized gray coat was a signature for her, along with the transition lenses over her eyes. "Leave your brothers alone!"

"Mom, stop." The boy sighed, leaning back in the chair. The little girl, Kyla, had bowed her head and her eyes became glassy. 

"She's a kid! What can she do?"

"C'mon, Ky." Kenny stood, walking towards the now upset little girl. "Don't listen to Pidge, she's just upset," He said much quieter, lifting the little girl. Her arms wrapped around Kenny's neck and her head leaned into his shoulder. Taking her back to her room, Kenny pulled aside the dark gray comforter covered in white stars and the white sheet underneath covered in gray astronauts. The little girl hung on for dear life as she sat on the bed. Unwrapping her arms from his neck, Kenny looked into her eyes, which had dimmed. Reluctantly, she laid her head down on the pillows and fell asleep.

A hand on his shoulder startled the poor man. Returning to reality, his eyes took in the sight of the bridge. Following the hand on his shoulder, he met a pair of jarringly familiar brown eyes. Even if they weren't as bright nor as curious as they once were, they matched his mom's eyes. 

"Kenny," Kova repeated, trying to get the young man's attention. He stared at her like she was the object he had been looking for his entire life. Pulling a tissue from the box Allie had brought by earlier, she patted Kenny's tear-stained cheeks. 

"Will he be alright?" Allie asked, arms crossed. After checking on Keith, she had passed by a few more times. When she found Kenny crying, she left a tissue box and ran for Kova's room. 

"Kenneth? You have to breathe." Kova said to the young man instead. He was taking shuddering breaths, just roaming over Kova's face. 

"Kyla?" He whispered under his breath. Kova met his eyes with shock, then defensiveness, finally with acceptance. She didn't nod, nor did she shake her head. 

"C'mon, Ken." Pulling on Kenny's hands, Kova stood. "Let's get you to bed." Kova walked Kenny to the door, with Allie following close behind with the box. 

——————————————————

In the morning, Kova was determined to let the others know, with or without the Colonel's approval. Speaking of the Colonel, he had thought long and hard about Kova's words. Shiro knew Kova was serious. She didn't fight orders unless she deemed it necessary for a specific reason. 

She fought patrol officers when they tried to restrain students to Garrison grounds. 

She fought her commanding officer when Caleb and her groups teamed up for training purposes. 

She even fought Curtis when he tried to stop the pair from taking little Cyrus to the McClain's farm when he and Shiro were on vacation. 

In every event, Kova won the fight. She was smart, strong, and dealt with any consequences that would come. 

Other students tried using Kova as a scapegoat and immediately realized why she had permission to leave Garrison grounds. They didn't appreciate the unpaid work on McClain's farm as much as Kova did. 

The commanding officer purposely gave the teams the hardest jobs on school grounds to make the others leave. They stayed intact until the last quarter when Jazz transferred to a more traditional school setting and Allie became her replacement. 

With the last one, while Kova had to be the one to bathe Cyrus after falling butt-first into a mound of freshly scooped cow droppings, she didn't complain. 

Kova sat through breakfast without a word to anyone, eating from the small bag of assorted nuts and dried fruit she snuck onboard. Cake and Liz exchanged nervous looks, while Allie stared at Kenny nibbling on an Arusian fruit. 

At least it wasn't whatever beverage the Arusians packed for them. 

When finished, Kova stood and walked towards the bridge. Without saying a word, the others followed. They were in their respective seats while Kenny sat in his corner as they stared at the slowly changing sky. 

Shiro walked into the bridge, descended the staircase, and went right up to the window. Kova stared at the back of his head, daring him to try to tell her no. 

Turning around, his eyes met hers. A tense minute. 

Cake nervously looked from Shiro to Kova and back again. Caleb was tense, ready to hold someone back. Liz followed this sentiment with her bayard in hand. Allie had a first aid kit under her console if a fight did break out. Kenny was lost, staring ahead. 

Shiro broke the stare with a sigh. Looking up again, he said, "Tell them." 

Opening a program on her console, Shiro walked forward so he wasn't covering the screen. On-screen, three folders appeared with different titles. 

The first read 'ACHLYS MISSION'. The second read 'FIRE REVIVAL'. The third was simply 'KHKH'. 

Typing away at her console, the first folder opened. Documents, pictures, and a video file fell into order on the screen. Clicking on a particular picture, Shiro looked away.

The ACHLYS was standing tall and proud, most notably intact. In front of it stood five people. From left to right, a woman with medium-length brown hair pulled into a braid. She had an arm around the waist of the man to her left, who was a full head taller than her with a scar on his right cheek and black hair tied into a ponytail. A gloved hand was on the shoulder of the Colonel, who had a hand tucked into his pants pocket. The man on the other side of the Colonel had tan skin and cropped brown hair. The last man also had cropped hair, black in color, and was much darker than the man next to him. Four of the five people in the picture wore matching orange, gray, and white suits. The men to the Colonel's left had helmets in their hands, while the ones to his right didn't. 

"Pictured left to right: Katie Holt, Keith Kogane, Colonel Takashi Shirogane, Lance McClain, and Hunk Garrett." Liz read aloud, squinting to read the caption. Kova opened a document file and it appeared beside the picture. In big bold letters, the word 'CLASSIFIED' was stamped onto the page. The top read 'INCIDENT REPORT & DISAPPEARANCE OF ACHLYS CREW'.

"I was right." Cake turned in his seat to stare at Kova. "You did know what happened." 

"We weren't supposed to say anything," Caleb replied instead. 

"The ACHLYS was ambushed," Shiro said, staring at the picture. "According to evidence collected, the crew escaped in pods, but never made contact."

"What evidence?" Shiro stayed silent. "I thought we were learning everything, so why—"

"Lance was the only one of the four that returned to Earth. His pod was used to locate the others, but it was unsuccessful. It was too dangerous to continue."

"But we found Keith! He's alive, right?" Cake turned his attention to Liz and Allie. Both girls were staring at the small devices in their hands. Something of Liz's creation used to monitor Keith's monitor. If there was a too high spike, a too low valley, or a change in anything, it would alert them both. 

Keith had been unresponsive and stable since he had been brought on. 

"My dad could still be—"

"Cake," Kova said. Her voice was firm, staring straight ahead. "The ACHLYS was ambushed by the Fire after an initial recon by Keith and Pidge." Cake became quiet, turning to the screen. 

Closing the file, Kova opened the second folder. Possibly even more documents came from the folder, many of them with the same 'CLASSIFIED' stamped onto them. 

Opening a picture file, it showed a crazed timeline of events leading up to the ambush Kova mentioned. Kova was adding onto it. 

At the top of the chain was a Galra with huge fluffy purple ears that seemed to curve like horns. A robotic eye replaced their left eye while their right eye was entirely yellow. Under his picture, the nametag read 'SENDAK: DECEASED; FORMER'. A red line pointed down towards a second Galra. Or Altean. You couldn't really tell. The being in the picture had an almost gray skin tone with yellow sclera and dark irises and pupils. Their ears were pointed, a long chain earring running from the tip to the lobe. Below, their name tag read 'RALAN: ALIVE; CURRENT'. There was no line connecting Ralan to anyone else on the board. 

Taking footage from her helmet cam, Kova changed a few details. Adding a picture of Yorak to the board and connecting a line from Ralan to Yorak, Kova changed the nametags. The 'CURRENT' changed to 'FORMER' and Yorak received an 'ALIVE; CURRENT'. 

"Chain of command," Caleb said. Allie had turned around to look at him with a question in her eyes. She turned back around, studying Ralan's face. 

"Ralan?" Allie whispered to herself, seemingly trying to find the memory of this man. "Was he a general or a guard?"

"Allie," Shiro turned. "Do you have something to add?" Allie stared at the Colonel. 

"It may be in your best interest to contact the Emperor of Altea concerning Ralan." It was all she was able to say before twin pagers went off. Allie stood and raced towards the observation bay. 

When Allie left, Shiro began to push down his feelings and started explaining more in depth what the mission against the Fire was about. Liz and Cake would interject here and there, saying the Coeus and Voltron should fight when instigated. Shiro reminded them that while Kova can be as reckless as she wanted, they weren't to go against the Colonel's direct orders. 

The Fire's revival began a few decades ago, staying mostly unknown until the recon mission. Yorak's concerned parents, Keith and Pidge, had gone after him because they had reason to believe he was working with an organization that threatened the peace in the universe. The recon mission Keith and Pidge were on took a full calendar year to complete. They had reported a small organization, but it was well armed. On a vote, all former members of the original legendary defender would be suited up to go. Keith and Pidge ran their own organizations, Lance occasionally served as ambassador to Altea but traded often with Alteans, and Hunk had relinquished most control of his culinary empire to head chefs in individual restaurants. The last former member, Shiro, had been offered the Headmaster position at the Garrison, and he didn't turn it down. The ACHLYS was completed in two years after Keith and Pidge returned, and the launch was televised all over the country. It had been months after the mission had launched, and there were routine communications between the ACHLYS and the Garrison, now under Shiro's command. One day, the communications stopped. 

There was no response. Not even static. Just silence. Nothing. 

Then, on the one year anniversary of the launch, two students reported and assisted a pilot from an escape pod bearing the silent ship's name. The pilot inside was Lance and the students were Kova and Caleb on their way to the green for lunch when they spotted the incoming ship. Neither said a word. 

Before Kova could open the last file, everyone on the Coeus had slammed into the nearest object to their right. For Liz and Cake, it was the floor and Kova's pedestal. For Kenny, it was pressing further into a wall. And for everyone else, they had shoulders pressed sharply to the walls. Liz paged for Allie and the crew of the Coeus began defending their ship.

[twins2994]

Toronto Blue Jays-Minnesota Twins Series Preview

4.30.18-Aaron Sanchez RHP (1-2) 3.69 ERA Vs. Lance Lynn RHP (0-2) 7.71 ERA

5.1.18-Marco Estrada RHP (2-2) 6.00 ERA Vs. Kyle Gibson RHP (1-1) 3.33 ERA

5.2.18-Marcus Stroman RHP (0-3) 8.88 ERA Vs. Phil Hughes RHP (0-0) 7.71 ERA

The Blue Jays At A Glance- The Toronto Blue Jays are off to a decent start, but have cooled off in the last week or so. The Jays started the season (12-5) and have now lost six of their past eight games. The Red Sox and Rangers took two out of three games at Rogers Centre this past week. Troy Tulowitzki is out with bilateral heel bone spurs, Josh Donaldson has right shoulder inflammation, and Devon Travis was sent to AAA after a bad start. Curtis Granderson has been a stud with his new team. He it hitting .317 with three homers and twelve RBI’s. Teoscar Hernandez has a .316 average in fourteen games. The Jays offense has smacked 38 homers in their 27 games. Former Twin farmhand Yangervis Solarte has seven homers on the year to lead the team. The Toronto starting pitchers have not been good so far. Marcus Stroman has a 8.88 ERA in five starts, Marco Estrada has given up seven home runs in 27 innings, and Jaime Garcia has a 5.40 ERA. The bullpen has been great though. Most relievers have sub-3.00 ERA’s. Tyler Clippard, Danny Barnes, Ryan Tepera, John Axford, and Seung Hwan Oh help set up Roberto Osuna. Osuna has six saves on the year in eleven appearances. 

The Twins At A Glance- The Twins bad start got even worse this past weekend. The Reds took two out of three from the Twins at Target Field and the pitching staff continues to get beat up. Eduardo Escobar had another great series. He is on a six-game hitting streak, where he is 10-for-23. Logan Morrison is getting on a roll after a rough start. He has a four-game hitting streak and raised his anemic average to .151. Max Kepler and Ryan LaMarre are hittless in their last eight at-bats. Byron Buxton will be out awhile longer. In his first rehab game last week, he fouled a ball off his foot and has a hairline fracture in his toe. The Twins bullpen carousel continued as they optioned Tyler Duffey to Rochester after three solid innings to save the bullpen yesterday. John Curtiss got called up for another bullpen arm. David Hale made it through waivers, but he refused his assignment to Rochester and became a free agent. Ryan Pressly has still been the best bullpen arm. He’s allowed a run in 13 2/3 innings so far. 

What To Watch For- The Twins won the season series from the Jays last year (4-3). The Twins took two out of three in Toronto and then split a four-game set with them at Target Field in September. It was just the second time since 2006 that the Twins took a season series from the Jays. Toronto has owned the Twins in the past decade with a (59-27) record in that span. Aaron Sanchez has a 2.57 ERA in fourteen career innings against the Twins. Lance Lynn has allowed just two runs in eight innings against the Jays. Marco Estrada is (3-2) with a 3.96 ERA in ten games against the Twins. Logan Morrison has three career homers off Estrada, while Eduardo Escobar has two. Kyle Gibson is (3-1) with a 4.95 ERA in six starts versus the Jays. Josh Donaldson has homered off Gibson three times. Marcus Stroman has a 4.12 ERA in three starts versus the Twins. Phil Hughes is (6-9) with a 4.68 ERA in 31 games against the Blue Jays. Josh Donaldson and Curtis Granderson have homered off Hughes twice. This seems like the part of the preview where I say how many home runs Jose Bautista has at Target Field. Well, he’s gone now and playing in AAA for the Braves. Hopefully the Twins can finally turn it around against a surprising Blue Jays squad. 

-Chris Kreibich-

[rayfredm]

Flames farmhand Lazar proud of invite to AHL All-Star Classic

Flames farmhand Lazar proud of invite to AHL All-Star Classic

His teammates will be working on their tans.

Curtis Lazar, selected to represent the Stockton Heat — and the parent club Calgary Flames — at the 2019 AHL All-Star Classic, probably won’t need to pack any sunblock.

“Most of the boys have their flights booked to go down to Cabo or wherever they’re going for the all-star break,” Lazar said. “And they keep telling me about how beautiful…

[brandycranby]

@river-soul ranch/farmhand Curtis!!! 🌾

[yahoo-big-league-stew-blog]

Why is Ronald Acuna's crooked cap a problem when Tim Tebow's isn't?

Ronald Acuna, by all accounts, is a tremendously talented baseball player who, a few years from now, could be the biggest star on the Atlanta Braves. He’s the No. 1 prospect in the game this year, according to Baseball America. He’s a 20-year-old outfielder who hit .325 with 21 homers and 82 homers across three levels of the minor leagues last year.

Before this week, you’d be hard-pressed to find something critical to say about Acuna.

[Batter up: Join a Yahoo Fantasy Baseball league for free today]

Now it appears a controversy has been created about how Acuna wears his cap. Seriously. The fact that Acuna sometimes wears his cap cocked to the side is “stirring debate,” according to the headlines.

Ex-Braves star Andruw Jones has been working with Acuna this spring in big-league camp, which isn’t abnormal. Teams often pair their young-stars-to-be with either veterans or former stars. A story from MLB.com’s Mark Bowman includes this nugget about what the Braves “want” from Acuna:

The Braves want Acuna to wear his hat straight and maintain a professional appearance while in uniform. But they do not want to change much about the fun-loving, flamboyant approach that has made him one of the game’s most exciting young players.

“The main thing he needs to remember is keep your head straight and respect [your surroundings],” Jones said. “Be humble, but a humble-cocky.”

Wait? We’re still worried about crooked caps in 2018? Like, for serious? Are we going to get lectured next about how only drug dealers carry beepers … or is this the only tired trope from 1995 that we’re trotting out this baseball season?

So Acuna wears his cap crooked sometimes. It happens. With a lot of people. Quite often. Here some recent photos of the young Braves star. Anything seem like an immediate cause for concern?

(Curtis Compton/Atlanta Journal-Constitution via AP)

(Curtis Compton/Atlanta Journal-Constitution via AP)

(Curtis ComptonAtlanta Journal-Constitution via AP)

(Curtis Compton / Atlanta Journal-Constitution via AP)

Looks like any ol’ baseball player, huh? By reading the crooked-cap quote, you’d think Acuna were challening Fernando Rodney for crookedest cap in MLB. Instead, he looks … like a 20-year-old who happens to be really good at baseball.

There are two really good arguments for anybody who thinks a baseball player wearing his cap anything other than straight ahead actually matters and here they are in photo form:

NUMBER ONE

(Getty Images)

Gosh, you remember when Ken Griffey Jr. made people clutch their pearls because of his backward cap? It’s a wonder that America’s Pastime survived this tumultuous time in history and Griffey was able to make it to the Hall of Fame after such a questionable cap-wearing decision.

Phew.

NUMBER TWO

(Getty Images)

(AP)

(AP)

(AP)

Oh, hey, there’s good ol’ Tim Tebow, the inspirational and good-example setting Mets farmhand who is nowhere near as good as Acuna. He wears his hat crooked too?! He does. Quite frequently, actually. When’s the last time you hear about Tebow getting lectured about looking like a professional?

It’s a good question — one that is much more about perception than it is about baseball talent.

Let’s ignore the societal ramifications of that question for a second and think about this: Have we learned nothing from baseball’s past? Sucking the personality out of young players hasn’t worked. Baseball tradition pushes conformity on players, and while that might be good for sustaining the routine of a February-to-October season, it certainly hasn’t helped MLB grow the personalities of its stars.

If we had learned anything from Ken Griffey Jr. — arguably baseball’s last truly transcendent star — it should have been to let young players be themselves, especially the really good ones.

Don’t make Clint Frazier think his hair is a “distraction.” Don’t worry about bat decals and tweets and custom cleats and anything else that appeals to 20-something baseball players.

And definitely don’t act like the way Ronald Acuna wears his cap matters one iota to what sort of player he can be for the Braves.

More MLB coverage from Yahoo Sports:

– – – – – –

Mike Oz is a writer at Yahoo Sports. Contact him at mikeozstew@yahoo.com or follow him on Twitter! Follow @MikeOz

[oselatra]

Farmer vs. farmer

The fight over the herbicide dicamba has cost one man his life and turned neighbor against neighbor in East Arkansas.

At the peak of summer in the little town of Monette in Craighead County, the soybeans and cotton in surrounding fields a jealous green, the pear tree that stands 20 feet from the grave of Mike Wallace looks like it has been blowtorched, every leaf blighted, curled and black at the edges. It's the ugly residue of drifting dicamba, the herbicide for which Wallace literally gave his life.

According to investigators, on Oct. 27, 2016, Wallace, who farmed 5,000 acres of corn, soybeans and cotton near the Arkansas/Missouri border, arranged by phone to meet a farmhand named Allan Curtis Jones, 26, of Arbyrd, Mo., on West County Road 38 north of the Mississippi County town of Leachville to discuss Wallace's suspicions that the farm where Jones worked was the source of drifting dicamba that had damaged some of Wallace's crops. Wallace, who had been vocal in his opposition to the herbicide, had been quoted in an August 2016 story in The Wall Street Journal, telling the newspaper that at least 40 percent of his soybean crop had been damaged by drifting dicamba since June. He'd filed complaints twice with the Arkansas State Plant Board, the state agency that oversees claims of crop damage, about damage from drifting dicamba and had encouraged other farmers to report their damage as well.

When Wallace and Jones met outside of Leachville, Jones brought along his cousin and a gun. According to statements issued by Mississippi County Sheriff Dale Cook at the time of the shooting, Jones told investigators that an argument had ensued. In the midst of it, Wallace, who was not carrying a weapon, grabbed Jones by the arm. At that point, investigators say, Jones pulled away, pulled his pistol, and fired into Wallace's body until the magazine was empty. Wallace, a father of two who'd farmed in Mississippi County since he was a boy, was hit at least four times, and died in the dust on the south shoulder of the county road, with Jones' cousin using his shirt in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Jones soon was arrested on a charge of first-degree murder, and later released on $150,000 bond.

Whether the shooting was self-defense or homicide will be up to a jury. Jones is scheduled to go to trial Sept. 11. A spokesman for the Mississippi County Sheriff's Office referred all questions about Wallace's murder to the prosecutor for Mississippi County. The prosecutor handling the case did not return a call seeking comment at press time. Calls to the Blytheville defense attorney representing Jones also went unreturned at press time.

However the case against Jones turns out, Wallace's family has been working since his death to see justice done in another way: by trying to get the use of dicamba banned statewide. A 120-day ban was put in place in early July, the fine for illegal spraying of the herbicide increased 25-fold on Aug. 1, and a task force was established to look for solutions.

But a permanent ban on dicamba would run afoul of the needs of farmers, who are facing a shrinking pool of options in the fight against herbicide-resistant weeds, and of corporate investment in genetically modified, dicamba-tolerant crop technology that is easily worth billions. It's a quest that has put Wallace's family at odds with many of their neighbors and, in some ways, even their own best interests as farmers. But they say it is a fight Mike Wallace would make if he were alive.

On the wind

Developed in 1958 by the German-based chemical company BASF and first used on corn crops in the mid-1960s, dicamba is a plant-hormone-mimicking herbicide that's deadly to a host of weeds and other plants, including many common vegetable crops and species of ornamental flowers and trees, like the Bradford pear that stands near Wallace's grave. While it works like gangbusters against pigweed, which has been a bane of row crop agriculture long before the plant began developing a stubborn genetic resistance to glyphosate-based herbicides like Roundup, cotton and soybean farmers in East Arkansas didn't use it because dicamba is highly lethal to those crops, which have long been the lifeblood of the area. Even a light dose of dicamba on those crops can cause curled leaves, stunted plants and a reduction in yield. A medium-to- heavy misting can kill them outright. That, combined with dicamba being prone to drift if applied improperly and its "volatility" — the tendency to change back to a vapor, lift off of crops and float away to neighboring fields under the right atmospheric conditions — would have made the idea of Arkansas farmers spraying large amounts of dicamba in high summer unthinkable 10 years ago, not to mention illegal. Until this year, spraying dicamba beyond April 15, after vulnerable crops had emerged from the soil, was against the law in Arkansas, with violations carrying up to a $1,000 fine. When it was used, dicamba was mostly employed as a "burn down" herbicide to clear an agricultural slate in preparation for planting, before the plants it might harm had sprouted or leafed out.

But that was then. This is now.

In 2015, the Missouri-based agricultural giant Monsanto released its Xtend brand cottonseed. A year later it put out Xtend soybeans. Both are genetically modified to be tolerant of dicamba. Potentially worth billions, the GMO technology promised to be a new weapon in farmers' ongoing fight against several stubborn weed varieties, including pigweed, resulting in higher yields and incomes. To farmers stretched thin, it must have sounded like a godsend.

The new dicamba-tolerant seeds hit the market quickly, and more cotton and soybean farmers began to plant them. But they could not yet use a legal dicamba-based herbicide on their crops, because one was not available. BASF's Engenia, advertised as being less likely to drift off target, was not approved for use in the state until fall 2016, and another low-volatility dicamba formulation, Monsanto's Xtendimax with Vapor Grip, is still not approved for use in Arkansas.

Early adopters who had purchased dicamba-tolerant seed with the expectation they'd soon be able to spray their fields with reformulated dicamba and watch weeds melt away were disappointed with the progress of getting the lower volatility formulas approved. Whether out of greed, historically tight financial margins or desperation at out-of-control weeds, some farmers became outlaws in 2015 and 2016, spraying older, more drift- and volatility-prone formulas of dicamba on their dicamba-tolerant crops, knowing that even if they got caught, the $1,000 fine amounted to a speeding ticket when compared to the increased profits they stood to reap. In the same August 2016 Wall Street Journal article that featured Wallace speaking out about dicamba damage, an assistant director of enforcement with the Arkansas State Plant Board was quoted as saying she'd been openly told by farmers spraying dicamba in violation of the law: "We'll write you a check." If a farmer has 5,000 acres or more under cultivation, all planted with dicamba-tolerant seed, it's not hard to divide by $1,000 and do the financial math.

With some farmers planting dicamba-tolerant crops in proximity to their neighbors' dicamba-susceptible crops and then spraying the older formulations of dicamba, the result in recent years has been like dropping a bomb on East Arkansas agriculture. According to a report released July 25 by a scientist at the University of Missouri, 17 states have received reports of dicamba-related crop damage since the dicamba-tolerant seeds were introduced, with an estimated 2.5 million acres affected. Arkansas was the hardest hit by far, according to the report, with an estimated 850,000 acres of crops in the state damaged. As of early August, the State Plant Board had received over 840 complaints of suspected dicamba-related issues. Gardens and landscaping, some of it miles away from the nearest dicamba-tolerant fields, were scorched and stunted. In a moment that might be funny if it wasn't so indicative of the chaos that's been sown in East Arkansas, the damage this year included 100 acres of soybeans unexpectedly whacked by drifting dicamba at the University of Arkansas's Northeast Research and Extension Center in Mississippi County. A June press release on the damage noted ironically that the damaged soybean plots, which had to be plowed under and replanted, were to be used in research on dicamba drift and volatility. In another irony that might be shocking if it weren't so sad, members of Mike Wallace's family, who have every reason in the world to hate dicamba and what the controversial herbicide has done to relationships in the close-knit farming communities of Northeast Arkansas, planted a sizable part of their acreage this year in dicamba-tolerant crops, solely in self-defense. Tales of defensive planting of dicamba-tolerant seeds have become common, with a kind of forced monopoly-by-attrition taking hold. According to Monsanto, 18 million acres of dicamba-tolerant soybeans were planted in the U.S. this year, including 1.5 million acres in Arkansas — about half the total estimated soybean crop in the state.

Having approved the use of BASF's Engenia in the fall of 2016 over the objections of the Wallace family, the State Plant Board reversed itself on June 23 and voted to recommend a temporary ban on the "in-crop" use of dicamba-based herbicides, a decision that soon received the approval of Governor Hutchinson. A statement released by Monsanto after the Plant Board's vote said the board didn't allow farmers who had already planted dicamba-tolerant seeds to describe how a ban would affect their operations. "Instead," the statement read, "the Board based its decision on off-target movement claims that are still being investigated and have not been substantiated. ... Arkansas farmers should not be forced to continue to operate at a disadvantage to farmers in other states where bans like the board's current proposed action do not exist."

The issue was referred to a joint meeting of the state House and Senate committees on agriculture, economic development and forestry on July 7. By the time the joint committee meeting started at 9 a.m. that day, the room's large, curved gallery was packed, legislators in suits shoulder to shoulder with farmers in plaid shirts and mesh trucker caps who'd driven through the dawn from East Arkansas to be there. The public comment period was crowded and divided: farmers talking about their extensive dicamba-related crop damage vs. farmers talking about the need for the new technology to help solve their herbicide-resistant weed problems. A representative from a small poultry producer told the committee that his niche business model of selling non-GMO chicken was being threatened by damage to the soybeans his business grows for feed. Weed scientist Dr. Ford Baldwin, who called dicamba the biggest train wreck to ever hit agriculture, told the assembled legislators that the day before the meeting, a farmer in that very room had been involved in a fistfight with another farmer over crop damage. He didn't say whether the farmer in question was for or against the ban.

As it has been at every state-level meeting on dicamba that's been held since October 2016, Wallace's family was there, pushing for a ban. Kerin Hawkins, Wallace's sister, addressed the committee. The month after her brother's death, she and other members of her family had pleaded with the Plant Board to ban dicamba, but BASF's lower-volatility formulation Engenia had been approved with restrictions, including a quarter-mile buffer zone between dicamba spraying and non-dicamba-tolerant crops. Hawkins appeared again in July to ask the joint committee to support the ban. She said that in addition to damage to her family's peanut crops, their 10-acre garden patch inside the city of Leachville, which she said is over a quarter mile from any dicamba spraying, had also been damaged by drift.

After the joint committee voted to recommend the ban, an eight-member subcommittee of the Arkansas Legislative Council officially took no action on the plan, which allowed the 120-day ban on in-crop dicamba use to go into effect on July 11. A $25,000 fine for illegal spraying of the herbicide went into effect last week.

An act of man

State Rep. Joe Jett, a Republican who lives at Success in far Northeast Arkansas, is a retired farmer and looks the part. A supporter of the temporary ban, Jett attended the July 7 meeting and invited Baldwin to speak. Jett said heavy rains in Northeast Arkansas this spring helped keep dicamba damage from being worse this year, simply because farmers couldn't get into the waterlogged fields to spray. "Had it not been for that," Jett said, "I think the atmosphere would have really loaded up with dicamba and you would have seen a lot more widespread damage than what we saw as it was."

Jett said he is in favor of advanced technology to help farmers, including genetically modified seeds, but wouldn't use dicamba himself "in good, clear conscience" given the damage he's seen in Northeast Arkansas. "Knowing that we're going to go out here and hurting people and putting ourselves in front of our neighbors? I can't get my head wrapped around that," he said. "Obviously you're always going to have some folks out there who don't care what's right and who are going to take care of themselves. But I think a lot of it is that the margins are just so tight [in farming], and farmers need every break they can get. They're willing to look the other way and be more worried about themselves surviving than they are about their neighbors surviving. I think that's a lot of it."

Asked whether members of the legislature have discussed a way to financially assist farmers in the state hit by dicamba-related crop loss, Jett said the state is on a tight budget and will be unlikely to help. "I don't know how you could ever get into that," he said. "Farmers have insurance, but [the damage] can't be manmade. It has to be an act of God. To answer your question: No, I think that's probably beyond the state. We don't have the means to help in that regard." Federal crop insurance only covers losses due to drought, flood or natural disasters. The only remedy for those farmers whose incomes were damaged by dicamba may be to sue, and some are doing that. There are at least two civil suits against Monsanto and BASF over dicamba use in Arkansas, one representing farmers who planted non-Xtend crops and suffered losses due to dicamba drift, and another by farmers who planted Xtend seeds expecting to be able to use the lower-volatility formulations of dicamba but can't because of the ban. Both lawsuits are seeking class-action status.

Terry Fuller, a member of the State Plant Board who runs Fuller Seed and Supply in Poplar Grove in Phillips County and farms 3,000 acres near the Indian Bay community, spoke in favor of the ban at the July 7 meeting. While he said farmers in his area appear to be abiding by the dicamba ban for the most part, he believes the reduction in yields to non-dicamba resistant crops caused by damage early in the season could be severe.

"It's going to be dire because we didn't ban it sooner," Fuller said. "It's crazy how much damage we've got, and it's going to be real damage. It's going to amount to millions." Fuller, who told the joint committee in July that he couldn't leave his house in any direction without seeing extensive crop damage caused by dicamba, said he believes the companies behind the dicamba-tolerant seed and low-volatility herbicide are engaging in "a strategy to force everybody to plant" the dicamba-tolerant seed. While the chemical companies have tried to put at least some of the blame for damage in Arkansas this year on misapplication of Engenia, Fuller said he doesn't buy it. "I contend that we've got world-class farmers; the best there are anywhere in the world," he said. "I don't just believe they were applying [Engenia] right, I absolutely, positively know that a lot of it was applied exactly right."

The sad part, Fuller said, is that some of those world-class farmers are the ones getting the black eye. "We're trespassing on our neighbors, and we're trespassing on our neighbors in town," he said. "It's not just our neighbor farmers. There's a lot of damage in yards. You hate to say that and call attention to it, but it is a reality."

Baldwin agrees, and has similar concerns about how the dicamba damage will play to a public already spooked about herbicides. A respected weed scientist who worked for the University of Arkansas for 27 years, Baldwin retired in 2002 and now runs a consulting business, Practical Weed Consultants, with his wife. Baldwin has been something of the Paul Revere of the chaos dicamba-resistant-seed technology could potentially bring to agriculture.

"I said four years ago that dicamba would drive a wedge between farmers, which it has," Baldwin told the Arkansas Times. "You've got 50 percent that wants the technology and 50 percent that doesn't want the technology and don't want the dicamba sprayed on them. And it's going to drive a wedge between agriculture and nonagriculture. I'm not being critical of anybody or slamming anybody. It's just the way it is."

In his testimony before the joint committee in July, Baldwin spoke of his suspicions that even the new, officially less-volatile formulation of dicamba is moving from field to field or even traveling miles away due to volatility and temperature inversions that pull the chemical off sprayed crops and into the air at night. Ford talked of farmers inadvertently "loading the air" with dicamba, which then floated around in the atmosphere like invisible smoke until temperature fluctuations forced it down on farms and yards, decimating crops and ornamental plants almost as if it was sprayed there on purpose.

Baldwin said he never believed he'd see farmers show such disregard for each other as they have since dicamba-tolerant crops were introduced. He called the murder of Wallace "the low point" of his career. "I never dreamed I would see farmers show the insensitivity toward each other in some cases," Baldwin said. "That doesn't apply across the board. But you know some farmers just have the attitude: 'My neighbor knew I was planting Xtend crops, so it's his own fault that I damaged him. He should have planted Xtend crops, too.' Well, hell, he's got a right to plant anything he wants to plant and not have it damaged."

Though the less-volatile forms of dicamba seem like a solution to the drift problems being experienced by farmers, Baldwin said the science of the herbicide seems to show that dicamba's volatility may be a very difficult problem to solve — one he believes the companies have downplayed. "The problem is there's a difference between less volatile and nonvolatile," Baldwin said. "It's my understanding that there were some totally nonvolatile dicambas developed back in the early days of the herbicide. The problem was that the weed-control efficacy declined as the volatility declined. ... That doesn't mean it couldn't be revisited, but the best information we have right now is there is a relationship between volatility and weed control efficacy [in dicamba]."

Baldwin doesn't believe operator error in spraying BASF's less-volatile version of dicamba and scofflaws continuing to spray older, cheaper formulations of the herbicide in violation of the law account for all the damage he saw early in the 2017 growing season.

"If you go east to Crowley's Ridge, every single field that's not a dicamba [tolerant] crop is basically damaged, and has the same level of damage," he said. "A lot of these fields are several miles away from where any dicamba was applied. You can't do that with physical drift. Drift is the blowing of physical spray particles, and you can't blow those as far as a lot of people think before you blow them completely away. Now you can do a lot of damage close to the source, don't get me wrong. But when you go in areas where every field looks exactly the same over a countywide area or multiple county area, common logic tells you that you're getting the same dose rate of a herbicide spread over a vast number of acres. The only way you can do that is to load the air — load stable air masses during temperature inversions and move it that way."

From the beginning, Baldwin said, everybody knew dicamba-tolerant crops had to be an "all or nothing technology," which will have to be planted on 100 percent of acres before damage to nontolerant crops will cease. But even if farmers plant every acre of cotton and soybeans in the state in dicamba-resistant seeds, Baldwin notes, that still doesn't solve the problem of damage to landscaping, trees, ornamental plants, vegetable gardens and other vegetable crops. He believes that aspect will be bad for agriculture as a whole.

"You get into the horticultural crops, then you get into the home gardens and you get into the trees in town," he said. "To me, the more dicamba we put in the air, the more you're going to affect these other types of vegetation. You might solve the soybean issue short term, but you're going to get this thing outside of agriculture. All of a sudden, when peoples' gardens are affected, when the trees in their yards are affected, then they're going to start asking the questions: 'Is this stuff safe for me to eat? Is it safe for me to breathe?'"

The long row

In a house at the edge of a cotton field in Monette, the crops stretching away to the edge of the world in all directions, Karen Wallace talked about the husband she has to go on without. He was born within three miles of the spot, and started his first crop at 17. Married her at 18. Put her through college so she could realize her own dream of being a teacher. Raised two kids and saw them have children of their own. He was, she said, a man always thinking of the community, the kind of guy who would go around town with his own equipment after rare snowfalls and clear the driveways of elderly folks who'd plowed their lives into the soil of Craighead and Mississippi counties.

"He wasn't a farmer that farmed out of the seat of his truck," Karen said. "He was a hands-on farmer. He was in the field daylight until dark. That was just his life." Which is, of course, what makes his death so hard to understand.

Karen said that in 2015, Mike attended one of the first meetings in the area about the introduction of dicamba-resistant seed at Delta Crawfish in Paragould. "At the meeting, Monsanto just kept discussing that they were going to release the seed, though the herbicide had not been approved yet, but kept telling farmers that by growing season it would be," she said. "We didn't plant any dicamba [tolerant] cotton that year, but we had neighbors that did." Wallace estimates they suffered $150,000 worth of crop damage from dicamba that first year. The issues in the area have only accelerated since then.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything like this that has turned farmer against farmer," Mike's sister, Pam Sandusky, said. "They've always been there to help each other do whatever." Karen Wallace agreed that dicamba-tolerant crops have turned the ethics of farming topsy-turvy. "It was like the farmers who turned their neighbors in [for illegal dicamba use], they're the bad guys," Karen said. "It was like, 'You're causing something we really need to be taken away.' It's just crazy to me."

The day her husband was killed, Wallace said, she'd run an errand in Kennett, Mo. The harvest done, he was leveling ground. Though she knows now that Mike had gotten a number for Allan Curtis Jones from an acquaintance, she said he'd never mentioned the name to her or their son, Bradley, and didn't tell either of them he planned to meet outside of Leachville.

"He told me, 'I'll be right back,' " Wallace said, "and that was that. I never talked to him again."

As soon as her husband was killed, everybody seemed to know it immediately. Word got back to her quickly. Not knowing what else to do, she and several family members met at the gin in Monette, which is run by Mike's cousin. She called her sister in Jonesboro, pleading with her to get to her daughter, Kimberly, who was attending an event at Arkansas State University. By the time she did, Kimberly had already heard through a post on Facebook.

"This man is probably going to claim self-defense," Karen said. "Mike is 56 years old. This man was 26. He's 30 years younger than him, probably 50 pounds heavier. He went and got his cousin. Mike never carried a gun. We don't know why he decided to shoot him."

There were over 1,000 people at Mike Wallace's funeral, the line to pay respects stretching out the door of the First Baptist Church and into the parking lot. When he was buried in the little cemetery in Monette, the farmers for miles around brought their tractors, a burbling second line, and ringed the paved lane around the graveyard. "I knew Mike had a lot of friends," Karen said. "But for that many people to pay their respects to Mike was just unbelievable. It was overwhelming."

The death has been hard on the whole family. Kerin Hawkins, another Wallace sister, displayed two photos. One is of their mother, Mary, standing in deep cotton with son Mike two weeks before his death. Another shows Mary, at least 30 pounds lighter, surrounded by family at this year's Fourth of July celebration.

"I didn't even realize it until we took this picture in July," Hawkins said. "I thought, 'We're losing her.'

"They took Mike from us. They took Mike from his family, from his grandchildren. He had a grandchild born this year, his first grandson with the Wallace name. His grandson will never know him."

Still, both Wallace and Hawkins say they joined many of their neighbors and planted dicamba-tolerant crops in self-defense, knowing they might take a hit bad enough to wipe them out if they didn't. "That's what my husband and my sons did this year," Hawkins said. "We've got all dicamba cotton. ... We were afraid of what would happen to us. It wasn't that we necessarily wanted to plant it. It's that we had to."

Mike Wallace was more than a brother to them, Hawkins and Sandusky said. Abandoned by their biological father when he was a teenager, Mike Wallace stepped up, becoming a father figure, protector, counselor and friend. "One of the first things I said to my husband whenever I found out what happened and that Mike was gone, was, 'I feel like an orphan,' " Sandusky said. "I never realized how much I looked to him, because our dad kind of walked out of our lives. I never realized how much I looked to him for answers, for help, for everything. He took over, and I never realized it until we lost him."

Farming has changed since Wallace started, Karen Wallace said, and not for the better. "I think we're in a society where we want the easiest way out," she said. "The easiest way, the fastest way, regardless of who it hurts or what happens. But farming is not like that. Farming is hard work. Mike was willing to put out the work." There's work to be done now, and Wallace is not here to do it, so Sandusky, Hawkins, Karen Wallace and other family members will keep making the long drive to Little Rock any time there's a meeting on dicamba. They want to see the state's temporary ban made permanent.

"We were raised to be there for each other," Hawkins said. "If one person was hurting in the family, you were there for them. You were there to back them up. You always had their back. It didn't matter. He would have done the same for us. He would be there fighting for us, and we're not going to let him down. We cannot let them get away with what they've done and what they've taken from us."

Farmer vs. farmer

[bigtreefest]

Outta Nowhere AU

Main Masterlist

How the chapters line up

Decks vs. Honeybee reader distinctions

You Catch More Bees With Honey

(Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader)

Handiwork

(Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader)

The Rainmaker

(Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader)

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Shuffle With Me, Houston Stranger

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis keeps a busy life between helping out on the farm and running the garage. There are some moments and places that give him reprieve, though, and one of them happens to be a bar where a certain sweetie works.

Word count: 3,386

Content/warnings: not many, mentions of drinking and alcohol, bar setting, weird vague emotional states, another guy hopelessly head over boots (what else is new, y’all should know this is how I write all my love interests at his point), menacing foreshadowing

Author’s Note: this takes place at the same time as chapters 3, 4, and 5 of YCMBWH and chapter 1 of The Rainmaker. You can technically read it alone, but the other stories help fill in some gaps. Check out the rest of the AU!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Outta Nowhere AU | Series Masterlist | Next >

Curtis walked into the shop with sore shoulders and a slight ache in his heels from a long day of unexpected work and standing. His cousin had called him in to help out with a few chores at the farm since she had to run the Friday farmer’s market, so the day was long and tiresome.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was go through and double check his books for the auto body shop, so he decided against it. Even if he went through everything tonight, it’s not like it would be quality work.

He figured he’d just quickly make sure everything was in its place in the office and the garage to make paperwork easier for him on Monday and work easier for the guys in the morning. Then, he’d be able to join his cousin and her new farmhand at the bar.

Curtis was organizing his socket wrenches by size when he heard a rattling sound become louder behind him. He turned as he sensed it coming closer, seeing an old truck pull into his garage.

He looked down to check his watch. The shop had been long closed by now, and he had places to be. Based off the noise though, he couldn’t deny something was definitely wrong with the vehicle. If Curtis weren’t such a good man, he would’ve turned the patron away, but there was no saying how far a truck that sounded like that could possibly get.

He tilted his head, examining the vehicle and attempting to peer through the glare in the drivers side window when the engine turned off and he saw a pair of old, comfy shoes step down from the cab. His eyes traced up the body before him and Curtis was speechless. Your hair was just tucked under an old ball cap, nothing fancy.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind, I’m not sure what this sound means and was hoping you had time to take a look at my truck. I know you guys are closed, so it’s no rush, but I’d really appreciate it. I’d rather know where my car is than get stranded out in the middle of nowhere.”

Curtis continued to stand there, mesmerized by you until he shook his head back into the present. “Oh, um, sure. I think I have the evening free, so let me just check on a few things real quick and I can take a look at it.”

Curtis pulled out his phone to text his cousin that he wouldn’t make it to the bar tonight.

He stuffed his phone in his back pocket, going to grab a chair from the front office as you followed. “Never good when a truck that old makes a sound like that.”

You nodded along. “Oh trust me, I know. Darn thing’s even older than me. Usually I’m able to figure out the minor stuff, but this is beyond what I know.”

Curtis nodded when he went to set a metal folding chair down by where you had pulled the truck onto one of his lifts. It scraped against the concrete floor, and he was surprised by the way you simply looked at it, as if you were offended that he’d want you to sit down.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Curtis, I own this shop.” The mechanic stuck out his hand, cleaner than you would’ve expected, and you shook it, introducing yourself.

“Ah, it’s nice to meet you. One of my coworkers actually suggested I come here when the truck started acting up. Said his best friend was the big cheese.”

Curtis laughed. “Um, he used those exact words? Or are those yours? Where are you from?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, sorry, those were my words. I think he just called you the boss, he’s the bouncer at the bar?”

Curtis clicked his tongue as he walked over to the hood of your car, propping it open. “Okay, you’re talking about my buddy, Edgar. Yeah, I’m glad he sent you to me. He works some shifts for me now and then. So you’re new to town? I go to the bar pretty often, I’ve never seen you there.”

You nodded your head tentatively. “Yeah, didn’t think it would be so noticeable I just moved here from Houston, but I’m really from here and there, lived almost everywhere. Been working at the bar for about a week now.”

Curtis nodded as he looked deeper into your engine, testing the tightness of parts and how full each fluid was. “Well how about that. Yeah, we don’t get too many people moving here, but I’m sure it’s a nice change from the city.”

You nodded and hummed, walking over and leaning under the hood of the car with him. “Agreed. I don’t think many mechanics would be this patient with me out there.”

Curtis lightly chuckled as he looked up at you over his shoulder. “Well I’ll be honest with you, patience is one thing, but you probably won’t think I’m very kind when I tell you this truck probably wont survive the next time you take a far journey if you plan to move…”

His small smile was replaced with a grimace. Maybe if he knew you were leaving soon like you seemed to do so often, he could hold himself back more. He could tell himself that there was no point in being attached, being himself for you to see. He’d hold off on the kindness that poured out to everyone he knew and loved, because it would hurt for you to take it and leave.

Your face held a small smile, though, despite his look of worry. “Well what if I planned on staying?”

Curtis looked back into the engine in an attempt to hide the redness in his cheeks. He was warm at the thought of you sticking around. He jiggled the loose part he found, grunting from leaning over so far, before he spoke up, partially avoiding your question.

“Well, you see this right here. I’d replace it and say it would be good for another couple of years.”

You beamed. “That’s good news!”

Curtis stood up to his full height and for the first time, you noticed just how towering his stature was. Anyone else would be intimidated from a distance, but from this proximity, you could see the kindness in his eyes.

“Yes and no.” It came out softer than he had intended. “I’ve gotta make a special order, and it will probably take at least a week to come in. Do you have another way to get to work?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my apartment isn’t too far from the bar. Walking shouldn’t be an issue.”

He looked at you skeptically. “Are you sure? I know you guys have some pretty late shifts.”

“Curtis, I’ll be fine. I’m tougher than I look.” He sighed in response.

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll put in for that part and in the meantime, your truck can stay here.” He walked over to the workbench and scribbled on a piece of paper, tearing it off and handing it to you.

“Here’s my personal number. In case you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me. I could even set up a ride for you if you change your mind.”

You took the paper, creasing it in the middle and stuffing it in your pocket. “Well, I’ve got a shift tomorrow and I think I might get there on time if I start walking now. Bit of a ways to my place from your shop. Any chance you could drive me home so I can sleep?”

Curtis sighed and checked his watch. “Yeah, I guess so, considering I’m holding your car captive. Come on, I’ll close up and we’ll get you home.”

As you waited for the new car part to be delivered to the shop, you kept working. Bills had to be paid. You had to keep living.

You were surprised the next day at work when Edgar had offered to walk you home after your shift, and every night after then, but didn’t question it. You were just appreciative to have a nice coworker you could trust.

Another surprise was the amount of take out orders that you’d have to give out from the bar. Most of which were going to a certain handsome mechanic.

It was Wednesday night, and the fourth time he’d come to pick up dinner this week. The man must really like cheese curds. You didn’t question it, though, as you handed him his order, asking for updates and waving goodbye with a somber smile as he left too soon, and spoke very little.

What you didn’t know was that Curtis had food at home, sitting in his fridge as he opted for the extra opportunities to see you. You also didn’t know how much he feared opening up his mouth and exposing himself by saying the wrong thing to the first person to make him nervous in a long time. Curtis was generally steady, driven, easygoing, but he could feel that world, that demeanor, start to tilt.

Curtis had a long week. A week much longer than he expected with the extra work he had to do out on the farm instead of in the shop. Sure, he was getting along better and better with Bucky, but that didn’t change the fact that there was too much going wrong.

Cole, that little shit from high school, was back and Curtis’s cousin had gotten stuck in a mine. There was no time for sleep, let alone stopping by the bar with this much of a crisis going on.

As soon as the rocks collapsed in the mine, Curtis was freaking out. “We have to call the police, the fire department, someone to get her out of there. She might not be injured now, but I can’t say the same if there’s a secondary collapse. We need to do something. Now.”

Bucky grabbed him by his collar. “No. No police. It’ll ruin everything.”

Curtis put his hands up in surrender. “Okay then, what do you suppose we do, big guy?”

Bucky paced back and forth, biting his thumbnail with worry. “Gimme a second. I’m figuring it out.” He stopped in his tracks. “Who all knows about the mines?”

“What? What does that ha-“

Bucky cut Curtis off. “Who. All. Knows?”

Curtis shook his head and shrugged. “I-I don’t know, not many people. Me and her, her college roommate, and Jake. That’s it, I think.”

Bucky rapidly reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed Curtis a card from his wallet. “This is my associate Sam. You’re going to call him and tell him those names. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

Curtis immediately pulled out his phone, trusting the judgement of his new friend. He called Sam, telling him everything he could about those who were close enough to have heard of the mines. After that, he got to work.

He assessed what all would need done in the next day and did as many small tasks as he could, staying up until he could greet the helpers on the way.

All Curtis wanted to do was sleep, this was taking a toll on him, but he did his best to not let it show, to not become a grump. He just put his head down and made himself useful while Bucky waited back at the mine. At the first available opportunity, he was going to drop into a bed and nap. This week was stretching him thin.

Meanwhile, you continued to work at the bar. After seeing him for several days in a row, it was concerning that Curtis seemingly fell off the face of the Earth. Surely that wasn’t your business, though. Maybe it was just a coincidence he was ordering food so often before. He had better places to be, like work, or maybe on a date.

Why would you care, though? He was just the nice guy fixing your car. There was no way he was going out of his way to visit; probably just had some late nights at the shop and that’s why he picked up dinner, not to see you. Anyway, work was always busy enough for your mind to be occupied. You’d at least see him again hopefully once that coveted car part came in.

After a much easier Saturday at the farm, Curtis was ready to have a nice, relaxing time at the bar. As the crew he came with went inside, he hung back to talk to Edgar. He clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Edgar patted him back. “Good, I’m good. Been walking your girl home like you asked. She’s working tonight.” A smirk crept onto his face as Curtis looked down.

“But besides that, what’s going on with you?”

Curtis sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. He turned a picture of Cole Turner towards Edgar.

“Um, I’m alright. A little stressed, but I’m hoping you can help. I’ve got something for you.”

Edgar looked up from the piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“Someone who we need to make sure stays out of here. And if you see him, you let me know, okay?”

Edgar nodded. “Sure thing. Have fun with your girl.”

Curtis rolled his eyes and walked through the door to catch up with everyone else.

You were pouring out drinks for the group that came in when a familiar tall, broad form approached from the doorway. You took in the way his shoulders pushed at the flannel fabric of his shirt as he sauntered into the room. You couldn’t help the way the smile already on your face grew to see him again.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t the big cheese.” He laughed at the nickname, shaking his head as he moved to take a seat at the bar.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been in for awhile. Had some family matters to attend to. Speaking of which, that’s them over there.” He gestured toward the group who had just ordered food and drinks from you before heading towards the booths on the far side of the room.

“Ah! Okay, in that case, this is for you.” You grabbed a short rocks glass from the lower counter in front of you and set it up on the bar top in front of Curtis. The glass made a small thud against the finished wood as you looked at him.

Curtis tentatively grabbed it and sipped. After swallowing he hummed.

“Sweet. Like a cherry.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s because it’s got extra cherries. Your buddies over there said you’d drink whatever, so I made you my favorite.”

Curtis lowered the glass and looked at you deeply with his warm, burning sapphire eyes. His voice grew low and raspy. “I wasn’t talking about the drink.”

He winked at you and you had no idea how your legs didn’t fail you right then. You were able to quickly recover, though, shooting a remark right back.

“Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you test that conjecture.” You could see his cheeks grow warm at the suggestive statement. You grabbed your rag and threw it over your shoulder, leaning closer to the towering man who was just confident, now evidently bashful.

“Curtis, are you…blushing?”

His eyebrows were quick to arch as his attempt of a scowl failed to break through past a shy smile. “No! Blushing is fake. It doesn’t exist. That’s just an old wives tale.”

You looked at his skeptically, not even attempting to hide the laugh that burst out. “What do you mean you think it’s fake? You’re so red right now.”

Curtis’s eyes shifted around the room, unsure of how to respond. “I just feel really…warm…when I look at you.” He muttered so low you could barely hear it.

You wanted to keep pushing before his embarrassment made him turn away from you.

“Hey listen, I’ll be back. I’ve gotta check in with the group, but keep this stool saved for me?”

You nodded. “Sure thing.”

As soon as Curtis returned, he was glued to his chair. He spent the entire evening chatting with you, asking about your life, and telling you about his on the farm and at the shop.

You were honestly grateful for the one bit of peace on a busy bar Saturday night. Every chance you got, you were leaning against the counter by him to take a breath, watching his friends ride the bull and dance together. What a group of great people.

“So, have you been able to make it home alright this week? I’m sorry that truck part still hasn’t come in yet.”

You nodded as you poured a line of shots for a group of girls waiting on the corner. “Yeah, it hasn’t really been a problem. Edgar’s been insistent on walking me to my door, which helps me feel better when it’s that dark out. Just makes me feel bad, though, because I think I finish a little later than his shift time is supposed to be.”

“Well that’s nice of him. If you want, I can drive you home tonight. Might take some of that load off if you’re worried.” Curtis’s eyes watched you slide the shots to the patrons as you came back to his seat and sighed.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you staying here later than you have to, either. It’s really okay. I can definitely take care of myself.”

Curtis shrugged. “I don’t doubt that at all, Cherry. But I’m offering. And I’d be a fool to prematurely end one of the best nights I’ve had in awhile. I really don’t mind.”

“Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.”

As the night was winding down, and Curtis’s group had already come over to close out the tab, the two of you watched the remaining people prepare to head out. Who was Curtis that he knew someone with a black card? Supposedly they were business associates of the farm. Was farming really that lucrative? You guessed so.

You rejoined the present as the last few slow songs came on the juke box and Curtis held out his hand.

“You know how to dance?”

You scoffed, “Curtis, I’m still working. But yes, do you think I could’ve gotten by all this time without a little bit of knowledge?”

He shook his head. “I would’ve been worried if you did. Come on, there’s hardly anyone left. Shuffle with me, you little Houston stranger.”

You sidestepped the bar and walked out the small half door to join Curtis on the dance floor, holding both his hands and looking up into his eyes. “I’d say we’re hardly strangers now. You don’t learn nothing after hours of talking like that.”

You began to swing to the twangy music, holding each other close. Curtis twirled you and pulled you into his chest where your ear could hear his racing heart. The warmth and the scent of his cologne were comforting. His arms blanketing you, shielding you from all other thoughts besides this moment. As the song faded out, you realized you two were the only ones left besides the other employees doing the final tidying up before shutting down for the night. You reluctantly pulled your body from Curtis, left only holding each other’s hands.

“I should probably go help with the closing duties. Can you wait for me by the door?”

Curtis nodded. “Of course. I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Curtis watched you go back to your cash register as he walked back towards Edgar, keeping an eye on you the whole time.

“So, anything interesting happen tonight?”

Edgar nodded with with wide eyes. “Um, yeah. That guy you gave me a picture of, he came by. Threw a fit when I wouldn’t let him in. Some dude in fancy clothes and a mustache was with him, too. Not sure what that was about, but they at least respected the badge.”

Curtis huffed and nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

This was not good. Curtis pulled out his phone and texted Bucky.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Tbh, even I don’t know where this story is gonna go, but I love Curtis a lot and will need some time to find a niche plot that will do him some justice.

I hope you enjoyed. Comments, reblogs, and likes are sooooo appreciated.

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Chapter 2: Good Directions

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Curtis shows you a couple of his favorite spots around town.

Word count: 2,229

Content/warnings: Kissing, conversation, pet name usage, really not much else, a sprinkle of angst?

Author’s Note: Takes place directly after the last chapter, and then there are a few time skips, so it ends at the same place as YCMBWH ch. 8

All feedback is greatly appreciated. I love hearing back from you, even if it’s a keyboard smash. Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Cleaning up went relatively fast after Curtis stepped away. After you finished counting the drawer and wiping down the counters finally, you saw him leaning against the wooden frame, chatting with Edgar. As soon as you walked up to them, Edgar bid the two of you goodbye.

“Okay, cheese curd, ready to go?” He laughed as his cheeks flushed a little pink. He nodded, opening up the door for you and leading you out to his truck.

He helped you to hop up into the passenger seat before jogging over to his side to get in. You’ve never seen a man that big move so smoothly. It must be the farming, really. Man, you had wasted your time with those city boys. Once he was settled in and had started the car, he sat there, still for a second, before looking over to you.

“So, Cherry, have a good day at work?” It was as if he had just simply picked you up. Like this was something he’d done before and he planned to do way more in the future. You let out a giggle at his playfulness and nodded.

“Oh yeah, great day. There was this one guy who kept begging for my attention, though. But I guess it was alright, because his friend with the fancy credit card left me a huge tip.”

Curtis teasingly scoffed, but it morphed into a smile to which you returned a wink when he turned his whole body towards you in the bench seat, propping his arm up across the back of it. His body looked so big, taking up the truck cab like that, yet so inviting.

“So where to, Missy? I know a lot about you, but not exactly where you live.”

You nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah, start driving and I’ll direct you.”

You took the opportunity to slide in under his arm before he could to move it, as he shifted back to face forward. As you settled into his side, Curtis kept his eyes forward, but it was impossible to miss the way the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparked as he took a deep breath, still otherwise unmoving for a second.

Curtis moved his arm anyway, just for a second, to shift the truck into gear, then put it right back to where it was around you, squeezing you closer than before and starting his drive.

Curtis insisted on walking you up to your apartment after the short drive, which seemed like no time at all with how easy it was to talk to him. He’d been so kind, and you know Edgar had been just as decent lately, but this seemed different. It seemed like…more.

When you got to the door, you turned around and were met with the view of Curtis with his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched forward.

As your eyes met, you could feel the tension in the air, not sure where to go next. Not sure if maybe he felt the same static around the moment as you. Perhaps he was just being nice with everything lately, and that’s how they simply were in small towns, but again, it felt like way more than that. Either way, the easy conversation somehow escaped you now as your eyes shifted between his. Before you could even help it, you blurted out, “Would you just kiss me?”

Your hands gripped the collar of his flannel shirt and Curtis was taken aback by your directness. Hell, you were, too. His brain was screaming out to him. If he would’ve been able to decipher the internal screeching and put it into words, he would’ve said something along the lines of “Of course, I’ve been waiting to since the night I met you,” but instead, the wiring to his mouth must’ve been cut, since all he produced was a, “What?”

You laughed and shook your head at his expression and inability to register your words, before worry began to seep in. “I’d like to think I’m reading this right and was hoping you’d confirm it? Would you ki-“

Curtis’s brain finally caught up from the lag, and he immediately leaned down and smashed his lips against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were the one wearing the brainless expression, eyes open and owlish at his confirmation of your feelings. You watched as his eyes slowly opened and a goofy smile came onto his face.

“I don’t think you read that wrong at all.” Curtis whispered between small pants.

“I, uh. I’ve got an early morning, but I enjoyed chatting with you tonight. I’d really like to see you again…maybe this coming week? Outside of your work and outside of the shop, you and me could do something?”

You nodded and bit your lip. “Yeah, I’d really like that. I’ll text you my schedule.”

You unclenched your hands from the fabric of his shirt and ran them down his chest. His oh-so-firm chest, before you realized maybe that was too far for tonight. You quickly moved your hands to be busy with something else, fishing for the doorknob behind you. “Good night, Curtis. Thank you for the ride.”

He simply nodded, watching you close the door and listening for the lock before turning on his heel and heading back to his car.

That week, Curtis kept his word. On Tuesday, he knew you had off work, so he surprised you by showing up at your door with a picnic basket in hand, only having given you about an hour of notice in advance, which was just enough time to get dressed and ready.

“Hey. I made us a little something. Wanna go for a ride?”

You nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand, heading out to his truck and hopping up. You could see the blankets in the truck bed already.

You watched the country roads and fields go by until Curtis pulled into a gorgeous meadow. The sun, low in the sky, was casting a reflective glow across the wildflowers and golden grasses.

Curtis put the truck in park and hopped down, reaching for you as you scooted across the bench seat and into his arms, where he helped you down. The calluses on his well-worked hands traced down your arms to grab your hands, sending a tingle through your body, as he led you to the tailgate. He helped you jump up before stepping up, himself, once again more gracefully than you would’ve expected for someone of his stature.

He laid out the blankets before helping you settle in to the laid out picnic.

It was a perfect date. After the meal, which was surprisingly good, you and Curtis just sat there, cuddled up in the corner of the bed, where you were squeezed in between his legs to watch the sunset. The warmth on your face mixed with that of his body behind you was comforting-almost too much.

You began to shift in his hold, the weight of everything kicking in. Maybe this was too much, too fast. You had just gotten here, the last thing you needed was to let yourself get sucked in, even if he was just so kind. Did you even know enough about him yet to say that?

Curtis took note of the change in the tone of the environment and moved around your side to look at you.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Sure, it was. You had been the one mostly pushing for things. You had been the one to kiss him, so why were you suddenly so on edge? You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat before nodding.

“Uh, yeah. Just, um… this is really nice.”

Maybe the care he was showing was unlike what you were used to. Everywhere you went, it was just…you. But suddenly, someone else cared about what was going on in your life and made an effort to take part in it. You’re cleared your throat and attempted to clear the tears from your eyes before he could see them. You turned away from his knowing gaze and looked out towards the field.

“Everything’s really beautiful. Can you tell me about around here? I just wanna hear you talk.”

Curtis grabbed your hand with both of his, rubbing his thumbs along the back of it. He gave you a reassuring look and just simply a nod, leaning back once more and going through the history of the farm, what all the fields were used for, and the different animals, his deep voice lulling you back to a state of comfort. He told you about the old country store on the one corner, with an old Coca-Cola sign, and how his aunt used to make the best sweet tea. You settled back against his chest easily, taking in the warmth again, losing the sense of false alarm which threatened your enjoyment, and finally accepting the peace you thought you might find here.

After that night and the amount that Curtis opened up to you, seeing him was a much more regular occurrence, especially once you had gotten the call that the part for your truck came in. The repair took longer than anticipated, though, since Curtis had to be careful of the other parts of the engine with them all being so old. The wrong move could result in the necessity of ordering yet another part and essentially having to start the process over again. And as much as he would’ve liked to keep having reasons to talk to you, he wasn’t looking for more ways to dig into your pockets, or better yet, his since unbeknownst to you, he already had decided to comp this whole job.

The long-stretching work resulted in a few late nights of Curtis taking you back to the shop with him so he could show you the progress, teach you more about the other parts of the engine you weren’t as familiar with, and maybe kiss a little bit in the break room after he washed his hands for the day.

Some nights you’d snag him dinner from the bar and he’d drive you back out into the fields, instead, sharing snacks, and conversations, and a view of the unhindered stars that lit up and reflected in his eyes. He was made for here. He matched everything so perfectly, and you matched him.

Every so often, things would switch up, Curtis would sit with his head in your lap looking up at the sky while you told him stories of your travels, what life was like in various cities, and how all the people were different. Those places were never home, though. But this place felt like it, maybe he felt like it.

You ran your fingers through his cropped hair, staring up at the sky when he spoke up between your stories.

“So you remember my cousin? And Bucky?”

You hummed and nodded, tearing your eyes from the sky to look into Curtis’s and moved your hand from the top of his head to scratch through his beard.

“Well Bucky’s only got a few nights left in town, and I know you’ve got a day off coming up. I think we’re gonna have a bonfire. You wanna join?”

You thought for a second. This was essentially Curtis asking you to meet his family. If you hadn’t felt so secure with him, you would’ve hesitated, but there was no question and you’d take any opportunity to be with him and those he considered closest. They were funny from what you remember. Kind, polite, and seemed just as decent as him.

“Sounds good.”

The night of the bonfire was almost like any other time with you and Curtis. Warm, comfortable, enjoyable. Well, at least on your end.

You were sitting with your back up against Curtis, the bonfire smoke struggling to fight off the bugs, as you sensed something was off. Bucky and Bee sitting across from you seemed…sad. Like there was a cloud over their heads despite the wonderful weather lately.

You tried your best to make conversation and keep it. Maybe even avoiding the fact that you thought Bucky was simply a temporary farmhand, but now he seemed more like a boyfriend. Who were you to talk? Curtis was technically your mechanic. Your strong, smart mechanic who if you didn’t know better, you’d say was keeping your car for ransom so he could keep driving you places. Perhaps purposely walking through every repair step twice. That wasn’t the point right now, though, so you tried to talk to Bucky: the one who you’d heard less about.

He’d asked you what you thought of town, and if your time with Curtis was any indication, you loved it. So you asked him, as well. He seemed really locked in, like he wanted to stay forever, despite only being here temporarily as had been explained to you.

“But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

At that question, the already humid air thickened and you felt Curtis tense up behind you. Oh no, were you not supposed to say something about that? You tried to hold your expression in. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge the discomfort, no one else would, but you heard Bucky’s quiet answer.

“Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: Did I write another truck bed date? Yes. And would I do it again? You can bet on it.

Taglist: @angelcavill66 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

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Chapter 4: Caught up in the Country

From: Handiwork Series

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Summary: It’s a long night for both you and Curtis following his capture from the bar

Word count: 3,682

Content/warnings: depictions of light torture (punching, smacking), mentions of blood, bruises, mob themes, mentions of fire and guns, knives, kidnapping, sad vibes, I tried not to make it too graphic, threats, kissing, lil bit of sad vibes, happy ending tho

Author’s Note: it’s been awhile, so go easy on me as I jump back into writing. I’m still trying to figure out Cherry, but I hope you can see her toughness here, as well as how deeply she cares. Takes place at the same times as YCMBWH Ch. 11 and The Rainmaker Ch. 8

I can’t wait to hear your feedback in all forms! Thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Everything felt heavy as Curtis’s head lulled to the side. He was blinking back into consciousness as he awoke from a sleep that was anything but restful. The world was black. His muscles felt tight and sore as he tried to wiggle his fingers for sensation but his wrists were restrained by a familiar burning sensation: rope.

The smell around him was familiar, yet different. There was a rich fertilizer undertone, paired with the apparent moisture in the air. It was crisp, yet toasty almost. He knew this one: barn with a hint of hay, not one of his, but likely local? The only other farm owner around was-

Curtis’s eyes were presented to a searing light as a black veil was pulled away. He tried to blink into adjustment under the lamp that hovered only a few inches above his head as the world slowly became clearer. A dirt floor was under his feet and he was surrounded by four red walls. They weren’t worn like the ones on his family’s farm, though. They seemed new. As his gaze continued to search around, that’s when he finally saw her, the one woman who had been at the bar, and suddenly he knew exactly what was happening.

You bit your nail on one hand, the other wrapped around your torso for comfort, as you paced across the rug in the living room of the farm home. After the fight had been handled and dissipated at the bar, Decks had driven you back to Bee’s house in your truck, in near silence. The whole ride home, you’d have been trembling if it wasn’t for the way she let you hold her hand with a reassuring squeeze, but now she was nowhere to be found.

Perhaps she was out wherever Bucky and Steve were, but you were pulled out of your thoughts about where she or Curtis could have possibly gone as Bee burst through the front door.

“Hey, I’m not sure how to say this, but I think it’s about time for an interrogation? Bucky’s men have Lloyd and Cole in one of the old barns. Weren’t sure if you wanted to be there or not for it.”

Her normally bright voice held a tentative and gloomy tone, as did her eyes. You dropped your arms with a sigh and nodded, following her out the door.

When you got to the barn, you saw it was lined with twice as many guards as the bar earlier in the night. You looked around at the men standing tall and alert, a look on their faces like they weren’t about to make the same mistake twice. Good.

You stopped at the open doors as Bee went in to find Bucky and took a deep breath and a moment to steel yourself.

You walked into the barn, boots scuffing the hay floor, head turning, taking in the sights before you. In two metal chairs, tied up, were the men from the bar: Cole and Lloyd who crossed well, everyone here.

Bucky stood in front of them with a menacing glare, Steve off to the side, leaning back against a stack of hay bales, arms and legs crossed as he watched the scene occurring.

They must’ve been at this for a little while now based off the bruises you could see forming on the mob boss’s hand, but the look on the mustached rival’s face wouldn’t have given that away. He smiled through the grime that physically and metaphorically coated him. Cole looked as scared and unsure as ever, evidently not cut out for this. You weren’t either, if you were honest with yourself, but you’d seen your fair share of things in your day. And you wouldn’t let yourself dare to think if Curtis was going through worse than what you witnessed now.

You calmly made your way over and stood next to Bee, who had leaned next to Steve. Sensing your arrival, Bucky came over and began lowly whispering his strategy.

“I can’t get jack shit with Lloyd here, fucking bastard. I know Cole will squeal as soon as he’s alone, though. We just need to-“

He was cut off by a sound that made you all turn your heads. The rafters of the barn creaked and down swung Decks, before landing onto the soft floor. The action caught the attention of the captives, too, as the watched her stalk over to them. Her shoulders were stiff, unyielding.

Steve made a movement to go towards her, but Bucky barred him with an arm, likely curious to see where this went. You strained your ears to hear her.

“I’ll give you one more shot. I’m sick of watching this dance. Where. Is. Curtis?”

A stuttering voice came out of Cole. “I-I don’t know.”

Smack. In a flash, his head was tossed to the side.

“Wrong answer.”

She took a step to her left, putting herself directly in front of Lloyd.

“Where?”

Her voice was alarmingly even. Calm, yet rage-filled. All you could see was the back of Lloyd’s shaking head, paired with his shoulders that appeared to be raising up and down with laughter. You weren’t sure if he took notice, though, at the way Decks’s fists tightened.

“Oh, come on, Pumpkin. You’re a smartie. Bet you’re a sweet peach just like your friend, too, but I’m not giving up whe-“

Punch. Right to the jaw. It was almost in slow motion as Lloyd fell to the hay floor in a heap with a dull thump and a rustle. She had knocked him out cold.

Her eyes were fixed on Cole again.

“Is that motivation enough for you to help us now?”

Cole furiously nodded and looked back over his shoulder at you. “I’ll talk to her.”

Your eyes went wide. You knew the least here out of everyone. Well, you guessed Decks knew less since she was in the dark for so long, but you were the farthest removed from it all. You were saved, though, when Steve shook his head, this time stepping forward without being stopped.

“No way. You lost your right to negotiate when you let Lloyd cross that line. You talk to me or you don’t have a tongue to talk anymore. Got it?”

You could see Cole swallow even from your distance as he nodded. With that, Bucky tilted his head in reference for you and Bee to leave the barn. When you searched for Decks to follow out, she was already long gone on her way back to the house.

Curtis had been here for hours now, but with the adrenaline running through him, it simultaneously felt like minutes and days. His wrists and ankles were getting sore from the tight restraints, but at least he wasn’t gagged. He guessed that whoever these people were didn’t think they were in for a tongue lashing. Boy, were they wrong. Every ounce of politeness was wrung out of him by now, if not from the torture he faced, then from having to listen to Lillian yell at seemingly incapable henchmen. Bucky would never. Curtis had seen what a tight ship he ran.

After rolling her eyes at a man furiously typing on a computer, she made her way back over to Curtis.

“Do you know where you are?”

Curtis let out a dry, humorless laugh. He’d been sitting here for how long and that was what she had to say to him?

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me. I might have a couple guesses, though. But really, thank you for your hospitality for finally getting around to that.”

Lillian continued to circle him like a shark in her red bottom heels, doing her best to blow off his sardonic tone. The floor of this barn wasn’t dirt like the ones on his own farm property. It was wooden, so he heard the obnoxious clunk with every step she took.

She stopped and crouched down in front of him, hands on her knees over the grossly inappropriate pencil skirt she wore on this occasion.

“I thought you were supposed to be a nice, kind country boy. Chivalrous. Polite. Especially to women.”

Curtis tried his best to hold back a scoff.

“Perhaps I’d change my tune if you hadn’t…ya know, kidnapped me. But based on your behavior in general, how you were treating my girl? Calling someone a bitch knows no gender.”

Lilian slapped Curtis across the face at that and he leaned to the side, spitting, lucky to find no blood. At least she hadn’t gone in on him that hard. Yet.

She turned around and strutted to the table where the henchman sat with a computer and leaned back on her hands against it, crossing her ankles.

“When I’m done with you and your little friend group, you’ll be lucky to find yourself in a speaking position at all.”

Curtis’s body wasn’t sure whether to shudder at the coldness or roll his eyes. Maybe if he just kept talking, he’d be able to stall enough until help came.

“I thought Lloyd was supposed to be the unhinged one”

An eerie smirk crossed Lilian’s face at that. “Where do you think he learned his skills? I rarely spent time this far outside the city, but, you know, I’d like to think of myself as somewhat of a cowboy killer.”

Curtis shrugged before he remembered why he was hardly moving due to the jolt of pain that ran through him from the ropes. “While that’s mildly concerning, I do feel compelled to tell you that I’m more of a farmer and less of a cowboy. I’d say the closest thing you know to one of those is your boy Cole.”

Curtis was taking in every detail he could of his surroundings as he kept this conversation going. One of those details, though, included how Lilian’s eyes slightly widened at the mention of the prick Curtis had spent almost his whole life despising.

“Huh, that got something out of you….” Realization took over his features. “Oh my gosh, you’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

Her previously cool and deranged demeanor had shifted. “Psh, what? That’s absurd. You’ve known Cole for how long? Why would I want to be with him?”

If he wasn’t careful, he’d say he was almost enjoying seeing someone who seemed like they had it all figured out make such a terrible decision. He had to tread a line, though. Keep talking without fully upsetting her and making the torture worse.

“That’s a great question, but I mean, I didn’t have great taste in romantic partners in my twenties, so I can’t blame you, really. So what’s this all about? You’re attacking Bee because she turned down Cole’s business proposal? No, even he doesn’t have the brain capacity for this sort of a vendetta.” Another moment of realization accompanied a gasp. “Oh my gosh, you used to date Bucky, didn’t you? It’s because of that? You want to take her down because of that? Like, come on. This is a bit much, Lil.”

She scowled at the nickname and accusation. “You’re ridiculous if you think all of this is over a lost lover.”

Curtis cocked his head to the side. “Am I? Am I, though?”

Lilian sighed and threw her hands up at exasperation, not only at being exposed, but at the fact that Curtis wouldn’t believe her fake denial at the situation. “God, you hicks are so dense. Never listen. I’m sure I could say anything to you and it would go in one ear, out the other.”

Curtis droppped his head and shook it. Yeah, okay Lilian. Believe whatever you want. It’s your funeral. He looked back up at her through his eyelashes. So sass only got him more insults, what about compliments?

“You’re right, I think you’re probably the only one with a law degree within 100 miles of this place.”

She nodded. “You bet I am. And one would think tha-“

She was cut off by a henchman coming up behind her and whispering over her shoulder into her ear. Her ruby red lips turned down into a frown as she rolled her eyes once again behind a mask of mascara, eyeliner, and dark eye shadow. The more he looked at her, the more Curtis saw a person. One capable of making mistakes, several, sloppy mistakes, that were hopefully to his advantage. The henchman stepped back, awaiting further instruction.

Lilian groaned. “Ugh, fine. Alright.”

She pointed at Curtis with a menacing squint. “You stay here while I investigate. Move an inch and I’ll pull out the knife. You haven’t seen me yet with one of those.”

You waited anxiously in the farm house, pacing the floor once again before you gasped in alarm, stopped by a hand on the shoulder. When you looked up from your feet, you were met with concerned eyes before you were pulled in for a hug. It was Decks.

Her chin was tucked over your shoulder and she squeezed you close.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. They’re going to find him. I bet they already have.”

You nodded and squeezed her back, holding tight to the baggy flannel shirt she wore. From the smell of it, you could tell it was an old one of Curtis’s. You couldn’t blame her, it was probably way more comfortable than anything she had left.

You pulled away, seeing the sincerity in her gaze.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not a little on edge, though. Thanks for what you did back there, by the way. I was afraid I was gonna have to jump in and show those guys who’s boss, but you had it covered.” You gave a watery laugh.

Decks gave a shrug. “Eh, anything for a friend. And you’re really the only one here that I’m not upset with right now.”

That brought a rare smile to your face. It was a little funny, but also sadly true. You knew she wasn’t dealing with this all as well as you, but admired her for sticking around. You could see so much honesty in her, probably a quality that drew her so close in her friendship with Curtis. It was comforting and exactly what you needed.

And speaking of comfort, a welcoming smell began to waft in from the kitchen. Bee was cooking, which didn’t seem super appropriate for the moment, until you looked at the clock above the stove.

It was early morning by now. Though the curtains were all pulled tight, through the seam in the middle, you could see the beginnings of daylight peeking through. It was then that you realized you’d been running for nearly twelve hours on sheer adrenaline and a need to stay strong until Curtis returned. It seemed like you should keep fighting, keep pushing for him to come back, but it was out of your hands now. Bucky’s men were on the job. All you could do was wait at this point. Hopefully this good meal could hold you over until then.

It was an ambush. All Curtis heard was a light shuffling inside his shielding of the barn, followed by dampened swift blows and brief screams. That must’ve been Bucky’s men.

The closed barn doors allowed him little room to see what was going on, but the scattered gunshots were enough to sense that something was coming closer. Only Lilian’s men were fools enough to cause that much of a scene.

As the sounds died down, the barn door slid open, and Curtis squinted at the morning light that was directed right towards his eyes. A shadow quickly covered it, though. Curtis couldn’t make out the face, darkened by the rays of sun that framed it, but he knew the outline of that build. It was similar to the one that was in his farm fields for weeks, but the waist was slimmer. It carried itself with just a little more proper posture and grace.

“Steve?”

The figure approached and his face was lit up by the overhead barn lights. A crooked, apologetic smile was there under a pair of sincere blue eyes. It was Steve. Curtis wasn’t sure whether to scowl or smile at his savior.

“Hey there, partner. I’m here for retrieval service.”

Steve walked around behind Curtis and crouched down, pulling the knife out of his breast pocket, flicking it open, and cutting the ropes from his wrists. Curtis immediately brought his hands to his front, rubbing the tender area.

“Did you get Lilian? She was outside. And all the guards? Is everyone else okay? How’s Cherry? Decks? Bee?”

Steve walked around to Curtis’s front, crouching once again to begin sawing at the ropes that held his ankles.

“The girls are good. Safe on the farm being guarded, but I think they can handle themselves. Your girl has taken this quite well all things considered.”

Steve broke through the ankle restraints and looked up at Curtis’s face. There was a cut on his cheek that appeared to be bruising slowly.

“Lilian got you pretty good, huh? Don’t worry, we’ve got her now. And Lloyd and Cole. They’re getting delivered back to an old friend in the city as we speak. Probably won’t have to see their faces ever again. That’s a blessing.”

Curtis nodded in assent. “You could say that again.”

Steve looked Curtis once over. “Can you walk?”

Curtis nodded and groaned as he threw his hands to his knees and pressed out of the uncomfortable metal chair.

“Yeah…you never really answered all of my questions, though, city boy, at least not fully….”

Steve walked with Curtis up to the edge of the barn, peeking out to check if the coast was clear and speaking into an ear piece. He nodded with confirmation and his shoulders relaxed a little, although Steve grabbed the gun from the holster on his hip just in case, keeping it low as they shuffled out into the open field.

When Curtis looked around, he could see it was one of the Turners farms, but not the original one. A newer one: one that had been taken over. Scattered all around him were other, smaller barns on fire. When he looked back behind him to where he had just been moments ago, that one was too, flames ripping through it like a warm knife in butter.

Once Curtis turned back to him as they approached a black SUV, Steve looked at him with his eyebrows pinched inwards.

Curtis got up in the driver’s seat despite the way Steve was very evidently guiding him towards the passenger side and held his hand out for the keys.

“Come on. While I drive home, you’re gonna walk me through your plan to get Decks back. If the next time I see her, she’s as mopey as she’s been this weekend, or worse yet, this hardens her, you’ll have hell to pay.”

Steve sighed as he settled into his seat. “Okay, okay. But I think I’m gonna need a lot of your input. Just be nice about it.”

Curtis raised a skeptical brow at Steve as he pulled out onto the country road, leaving the burning farm behind them and Bucky and his men to finish up.

You had finished you meal and sat back on the couch, leg bouncing as you worked out a plan. Curtis needed to get back safely. He had to. You didn’t know what you’d do if he didn’t. Probably beat up Bucky first for getting you all in this mess, then move. Far, far away. Run like you always needed to, even if this was the first place you really felt like you belonged. That would be easiest, your truck could probably handle it, right?

You were startled by the sound of the front door clicking and in an act of self defense, you grabbed your empty coffee mug off the table and threw it at the front entryway. As the door opened, it shut just as quickly from the startle of the ceramic shattering against the wall. From the outside, you could hear, “Holy cow. Um, good arm? But it’s me, darlin’…”

Your shoulders dropped in relief. “Curtis!?”

You ran to the front door, socked feet gliding on the wood, and you pulled the handle and whipped it open. He was standing there, Steve behind him. You threw yourself into his arms, hands wrapped around his neck as he squeezed around your torso.

“It’s me. Hi sweet girl. I’m okay.”

You pulled away with a smile on your face. Your hands ran along his beard and you leaned in for a deep kiss. When you looked at him, your eyes roamed over his face, bruised and slightly wincing at the gentle circles of your thumb. You moved to pull away and apologize, but he grabbed your wrist to keep you there. I’ll never let you go.

You simply nodded and smiled, before looking over his shoulder at the dark-haired mob boss walking up the driveway. His car had just pulled in.

Your eyes narrowed to slits as you gave Curtis a quick peck on the nose.

“You go on ahead and get in there. I think some people will be very happy to see you.”

Curtis nodded, sensing what was about to go down, and gave you a kiss on the top of your head as his hand rubbed your waist before walking through the threshold, and Steve followed behind him.

As Bucky scaled the front porch steps, about to take the same path as the other two men inside, he was stopped by your pointer finger to his chest. Your voice was threatening and low. “You, mister. If you ever let another threat like this, or one of your crazy ex girlfriends near us again, no one is coming out that unscathed. Am I understood?”

His eyebrows raised as he gave you a salute. “Yes ma’am. You have my word.”

You gave him a curt nod of agreement and went inside.

Next >

Bonus A/N: sorry for the dark vibes, but go Curtis and Cherry! Two badasses even in a hard situation imo, although she’s not so forward with it because she doesn’t have the direct threat. What do you think?

Taglist: @evelineangel66 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles

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Handiwork Masterlist

A Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis Everett x Bartender! Reader Series

Part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Main Masterlist

Series Summary: Curtis keeps a busy life between helping out on the farm and running the garage. There are some moments and places that give him reprieve, though, and one of them happens to be a bar, where someone new to town just started working.

1. Shuffle With Me, Houston Stranger

2. Good Directions

3. Outskirts

4. Caught up in the Country

5. A Cowboy Lovin’ Night

6. Small Town Somethin’

Drabbles & Extras

Affection and Communication (ask answered)

Dynamics (ask answered)

How the Outta Nowhere AU Chapters line up

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Ok, my babe, I dare you to give us a little preview of either Steve's or Curtis's Outta Nowhere stories. 💜💜

*sigh* *playful eye roll* *smirk* 🙄😏

Okay, Kris, you’ve convinced me to pick up Curtis’s storyline that I’ve been having trouble with for the Outta Nowhere AU.

Steve’s first chapter will be dropped on Friday, so keep an eye out for that. Here’s a little teaser of our favorite working boy:

From: Handiwork Series (Chapter 1 excerpt)

Pairing: Mechanic! Farmhand! Curtis x Bartender! Reader

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You were pouring out drinks for the group that came in when a familiar tall, broad form approached from the doorway. You took in the way his shoulders pushed at the flannel fabric of his shirt as he sauntered into the room. You couldn’t help the way the smile already on your face grew to see him again.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t the big cheese.” He laughed at the nickname, shaking his head as he moved to take a seat at the bar.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been in for awhile. Had some family matters to attend to. Speaking of which, that’s them over there.” He gestured toward the group who had just ordered food and drinks from you before heading towards the booths on the far side of the room.

“Ah! Okay, in that case, this is for you.” You grabbed a short rocks glass from the lower counter in front of you and set it up on the bar top in front of Curtis. The glass made a small thud against the finished wood as you looked at him.

Curtis tentatively grabbed it and sipped. After swallowing he hummed.

“Sweet. Like a cherry.”

You nodded. “Oh yeah. That’s because it’s got extra cherries. Your buddies over there said you’d drink whatever, so I made you my favorite.”

Curtis lowered the glass and looked at you deeply with his warm, burning sapphire eyes. His voice grew low and raspy. “I wasn’t talking about the drink.”

Tee hee hee!! The next few lines that come after this are my favorite, but I’m keeping those a surprise. Thank you again for the dare!!!

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Let's do 23 and 38 for Handiwork!Curtis and reader, please and thank you! 💜

Kris! Thank you so much for sending this in! I’m elated to answer, and honestly, it’s something I hadn’t thought of before. This is longer than I anticipated (what else is new?) so answers below the cut:

From the Handiwork Series

23. What are the defining characteristics of their relationship?

I’d say one of the first ones is playfulness. From what we’ve seen so far already (which isn’t too much😬), they’re both very easygoing when around each other and love a good joke. As time goes on, I hope we see them rag on each other a little more as Cherry helps to bring Curtis out of his shell some. I also think, as we’ll see very soon, trust is HUGE and goes hand-in-hand with honesty. Right off the bat, Curtis is honest with her about what it takes to fix her truck, and doesn’t claim a bunch of other things like another mechanic probably would. And then Curtis wants to make sure she’s safe, going as far as requesting Edgar to walk her home and driving her home, himself. From the very beginning, she has no doubts on Curtis’s intentions, even asking for him to give her a ride with only feelings of safety and no hesitations from hardly knowing him yet.

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Hm, see, this is tricky because I think there are many layers to it. I think Cherry is one to be more outwardly vocal about her temper. If someone gets on her nerves or is especially awful, I don’t think she’ll be afraid to say it to their face, or even tell those around her, nearly unprompted. She’s gotta be tough and assertive in her job, so she’ll yell, pretty easily, if she has to. As for Curtis, we’ve seen a little bit of what his temper could look like, but not much. And now that I think about it, he’s pretty patient. He likes to gather all the facts before making a final judgement and acting. You can see he gets a little annoyed and closed off at first around Bucky, but then once he really gets to know him, they become good friends. Now, Curtis got into his fair share of fights in high school, but none of them really had to do with him. It was more of a ‘Cole started it, so I finished it to protect Jake’ sort of thing since Curtis had evaluated Cole as worth punching and Jake as worth protecting. That changed as time went on, though, so Curtis still doesn’t forgive Jake and therefore, both will experience a shorter temper from him, but still probably 70% of the patience he just naturally has.

Now if we’re talking about with each other, this is an entirely different beast. But…actually, is it? I think Cherry gains a patience with him she doesn’t have for the general public, and Curtis’s grows deeper, as well. The thing is, though, I think she also get scared to tell him when she’s upset about something, instead closing off and expecting him to decipher it. Curtis isn’t into the cryptic messages as much, so he struggles with that and begs for a conversation. And when he’s upset, I think he’ll come out and say it, not raising his voice if he can help it, but sometimes it can escalate beyond both of their control. This is on very rare occasions, though. So it may as well not happen.

But all of that yapping through my answer finally figuring out the dynamic to say: Cherry on 90% or more of occasions. 😅

Referring to this Ship Ask Game

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IT’S HAPPENING!!!!

I’m writing part one to both my new Curtis series and my new Steve series that will be in the same AU as ‘You Catch More Bees With Honey’ !!!!!

But the issue is: idk what to name the AU!! All help is appreciated, so pls drop an ask or comment with suggestions!!!!

Either way, EEEEEEEK, I’m so excited. Feel free to send any asks for hints on the plot/characters!