#rest in peace shady sands

[cowboybuddie]

bethesda seem to really struggle with towns/cities period!! their creative choices tend to be pretty interesting (e.g white run is everyone’s fav city for a reason, diamond city and good neighbour aren’t bad either) but a lot of them feel empty, without purpose. if they do have a purpose, it’s one singular thing like fishing or chems. some of the “cities” in skyrim are downright villages, with maybe one quest and then nothing. in fallout, there is still rubble in settlements, lived in places where people eat, sleep and shop- there is just piles of rubbish everywhere. like, can you imagine a settlement like vault city or shady sands in a modern fallout game? it would look insanely out of place. an equivalent of the imperial city in skyrim? a fever dream!

as cool as some of bethesda’s concepts are, it seems like logistics defeat so much, especially in fallout. i want farms, water pumps, explanations for their clean water, NEW factions, reuse of actual buildings, fishing, hunters, scavengers, washrooms, armourers. if the ncr can print posters and make flags with professional quality, society’s doing pretty okay. even the shadiest and least developed parts of fallout 1 and 2 had more of a semblance of society than the majority of 4.

rest in peace ncr, ur incompetent but ur flag is really cool bro

[june-girl-86]

Chapter 55

Old acquaintances and new faces on Boro-Borosa have to say goodbye in different ways.

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC Female!

ReaderRating: Mature/Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence / Love / Action&Adventure / Blood&Violence / Drama & Romance / Slow Burn / Fluff&Smut

On Boro-Borosa, some cities, especially the capital Amos, had formed from the smallest oases of the desert planet and still treasured them. But there were also many untouched places that were not inhabited by the masses. That was where the sand people had been drawn to. In the middle of the desert, at the foot of a mountain from which the spring that supplied the flourishing date palms with water gushed before it flowed into the lake amidst the green splendor. The fish in it were part of the diet of the inhabitants of the oasis. Many of the tents stood between the shady palm trees, and stables had been erected a little to one side. Eopis, banthas and other farm animals were responsible for agriculture and food. The Tusks were once again leading a peaceful life on Bora-Borosa.

Basmah stepped out of her tent, Yamha had finally fallen asleep. The little girl was becoming more and more agile and curious about the world. Her husband sat in front of the campfire, nodding to her. The pipe he always indulged in at night protruded from his mask. He pointed to the free cushion next to him, but she shook her head. Basmah wanted to stretch her legs a little. The glow of the campfires or the torches could be seen everywhere. There were whispers so as not to wake the sleeping people. A breeze moved the palm leaves and let the moonlight through, which was reflected on the surface of the lake. Basmah walked past it, hearing the snorting and humming of her animals. Normally they were asleep at this time of night, but something seemed to be keeping them awake.

The Tusken woman paused when she saw a figure sitting on a rock outside the palm trees. The shape looked familiar to her and Basmah tried to make loud noises so as not to frighten the blind woman. She touched Umm gently on the shoulder and the old woman smiled knowingly.

"What are you still doing here at this late hour?" she asked, crouching down in front of Umm. Basmah had been watching her for the last few days, Umm couldn't rest, did that have anything to do with Nhean's visit? He had not come alone, his wife had accompanied him for the first time. Umm was silent and the wind picked up again. Basmah shivered and reached for Umm's hand. It was very cold, how long had she been sitting here? Had she even eaten dinner?

"Come on, I'll take you back to your tent, you'll freeze to death here!"

Umm shook her head and lifted it. Basmah followed suit and looked up at the sky.

"I'm watching the stars. They have changed!"

The young woman noticed the multitude of stars shining so brightly next to the moon, something she had never noticed before. And then the words slowly sunk in for Basmah. She stared at Umm.

"What do you mean, you watch the stars?"

Umm squeezed Basmah's hand and she could see the old woman's happy features.

"The light shows me the way. There is no place so dark that the eye cannot spot a star. And now they all shine for me!"

Umm looked up again and closed her eyes. Basmah could see the tears glistening as they found their way. And then Umm's head slowly sank down onto her chest, returning her last breath to her home.

As the door slid open, Severin looked sternly at his colleague, who hung her head with a sigh.

"I'm sorry!"

Severin glanced at his watch.

"You're over half an hour late, Bice!"

She sighed again and dropped her bag next to her desk.

"I left on time, but they're going crazy in the city!"

Severin frowned.

"The coachmen had to catch their orbaks again. The animals have been running through the alleyways in complete disarray, destroying many traders' displays and the chickens have broken out of their cages in the market square. The parrots were screeching, and a trader who was on her way out with me said the noise was unbearable!"

Severin looked out of the window, where they could watch the hustle and bustle of the spaceport. Everything seemed the same as always and yet something seemed different.

"But the data is normal, apart from the one spike a few days ago, everything is fine!" he muttered to his colleague. She sat down in her seat and also checked the reports. None of the arriving tourists knew which inconspicuous building they were passing as soon as they left their ship to enter the city. And yet it was so important to inform everyone in good time if a disaster was about to strike. Time passed until Bice thoughtfully pressed a few keys and turned to Severin.

"Are you getting data from sector 4 at the oasis? I'm missing them!"

Severin looked and shook his head.

"No, I'm not getting anything either! But that would be at a completely different location, as it was measured a few days ago!"

Bice shrugged her shoulders helplessly and called one of her technicians. But he was busy in Raija. Bice ended the call and hesitated briefly before grabbing her bag and jumping up. She repacked her drink and Severin looked at her questioningly.

"I've already been to Sector 4, it'll be quicker if I take care of it myself!"

Her colleague agreed and looked after her as she left her workstation and hurried past the window outside. Bice took one of the speeders, which also contained tools, and set off.

Bice slowly approached the green oasis that lay sheltered at the foot of the mountain. She knew that Tusken lived here, but that they were peaceful. Nevertheless, she didn't want to be rude and simply storm into their home. She stopped the speeder at a rock and took off the sand goggles and the cloth. She shook out the sand before putting it in her bag. Bice got out, grabbed her bag and the toolbox. As she walked past the rock, she noticed the bowl on top and the many fruit pits inside. Bice walked on, approaching the palm trees and the small settlement. It was very quiet for the time of day, which surprised her a little. But as she walked past the tents to get to the stream that would lead her up the mountain, she smelled it. Bice paused and closed her eyes. Neroli, the scent of bitter orange blossom. She guessed why it was floating in the air. In Amos, too, it drifted through the alleyways from the windows when people mourned the dead and sought solace in their grief. The flowers exuded the peace that was so urgently needed in these times. So the Tusks had a loss to mourn. Bice sighed, sorry to have to disturb the sand people. The stream babbled along and Bice climbed the hill. A few children came towards her, waved and ran back to their village. Before she reached the ledge, she was spotted by the adults. Bice stopped and bowed her head. She would not go any further until she got a sign. A woman stepped up to her, a small body stirring beneath her robe, and Bice smiled at her counterpart.

"I'm sorry, you're in mourning!"

The woman nodded, her eyes reddened yet composed.

"I have to go to the cave, fix the sensor!"

The Tusken woman stepped aside and Bice thanked her. She left the mourners behind and set to work.

Bice had thought it would be a matter of a few minutes, but the repair took several hours and when she stepped out of the cave, she was greeted by the soothing scent and the setting sun. From her vantage point, she had a beautiful view of it and she took her time. After the last red dot had disappeared, she descended the slope. There was a pot of soup simmering over the fire and Bice realized how hungry she was. She hadn't even touched her snack yet.

"Is everything ready again?"

Startled, Bice moved to the side, she hadn't noticed the Tusken woman. It was the same one who had greeted her this morning. Bice nodded.

"Yes, now I hope my colleagues can receive all the data again. I didn't want to disturb your ritual!"

The woman smiled, you could see it in her eyes, which were the only ones uncovered.

"We gave Umm back to the Creator shortly after she died. The loss will be with us for some time!"

Bice nodded in understanding.

"I am Basmah and I would like to ask you to join us for dinner. You've been working all day!"

Before Bice could refuse, her stomach growled loudly and the women giggled. While the Tusken retreated to their tents to eat, Bice sat down on a cushion under the open sky and enjoyed the soup. It was not only filling, but also warmed her up. In the city, you didn't notice the cold after sunset as much as you did out here. Basmah joined her again, holding her child in her arms, who rubbed her eyes tiredly but didn't want to fall asleep. Bice felt the same and yawned. She shook herself, she still had to go back.

"Does the speeder have autopilot?"

Bice sighed.

"It's a work machine, why would it have that luxury equipment in it?" she scoffed and Basmah laughed. The baby babbled too, as if the little one knew what it was all about.

"Stay here. We always have a tent free!"

Bice wanted to object, but she could feel the tiredness in her limbs and knew she wouldn't get far without falling asleep. She agreed and asked to be shown to her sleeping place.

The baby cried loudly and Bice opened her eyes tiredly. It was a strange cry and slowly she sat up between her blankets. In addition to the crying, she also heard the bleating of the Eopis and snorting of the Banthas. The voices of the Tusken joined in, trying to calm the animals. Bice put on her shoes and left the tent. Most of the fires were out, torches burning, and yet this infinitely star-studded sky was so appealing that this was the first thing Bice saw. Then she heard the beeping of one of her devices in her work bag.

But before she could get back into the tent, she felt strange, the sensation traveling through her body. Creeping up from her legs, it made her tremble. She felt unwell, dizzy and as if everything was spinning. She tried to hold on, but even the fabric of the tent swayed and she understood that the ground was shaking. This was joined by the humming coming from below. In addition to the sounds of the animals, which had sensed the danger much earlier than all the sensors and had not recognized it. Rocks could be heard rolling down the slope, breaking away from the mountain. The Tusks wailed in their own language, but did not scream. They probably didn't want to worry the children any more. Bice felt sick, hopefully the slope wouldn't slide down and they would be buried under it. And then it stopped. The humming disappeared and the animals stopped complaining. The swaying subsided and yet Bice clung to the fabric of her tent for several minutes as if it could give her a firm hold. It was quiet, no one made a sound, even her tool had fallen silent again. And then her Komlink beeped in this strange silence. With trembling hands, she pulled it out of her pocket and when she activated it, she heard Severin scream. Bice sank to her knees and couldn't believe it. Amos was in ruins...

__________

@the-rain-on-kamino

[im-suchanicegirl]

To add to the beach lore

Dads Dan² find a nice shady spot to set up their bbq, obviously in prime view to see the kiddlywinks but far enough way they can have some peace and quiet

David and Nico are wrestling in the sea, David is winning for most dunks but Nico made David scream the most by stroking his foot while he's underwater so he thinks it's an jellyfish

Kevin alternates between building a sandcastle and showing the dads which poor sea creature or shiny shell he's put in his bucket this time (and he keeps stepping on his castles in his excitement to show them 😭)

Kevin also refuses to sit in the shade with everyone else to eat his food because its too cold under there obviously

Pascal has one of those drink holder floaties and an actual floatie (flamingo ofc) but he doesn't actually go in the sea with them, he just naps on it so he's not directly on the sand lmao

And Tank can't say no to Kevin and gets wrangled into digging a hole to the center of the earth, somehow also convincing the rest of the guys its a good idea

(cue montage of everyone trying to climb up the edge after they dug too far down and can't get out - Dan told them this would happen, he's still up top eating leftover hotdogs)

I laughed at all of these because it’s so on brand 😂

Also Dan judges Daniel for getting involved in the hole in the sand thing, to which Daniel argues that the guys told him they needed his scientific expertise and he couldnt say no.

Then Dan reminds him he studied IT, not civil engineering.

[libidomechanica]

Nearer, dreary loud Tyrian verses were breath shuns the

A sonnet sequence

               1

Upon Naturesques fell the loved the River’s Daught I lose my change result in make a Cressing. They not seem’d, or with to partridge, and the edge in see till musket shall grows the courself wit, that his this the memory. Poor Margaret is the Amor Missal with page; and then we return, or maned fool of it will mystic deep. Nearer, dreary lou’d Tyrian verses were breath shuns the white curse; further like occasion and has flowers, pure, and eyes: and them; and he had done annul as my deep must if I hast forlorn, will not avow with young best of June, and there! When reconciled that friend?

               2

With a Moon—alfonso’s was in love, designs o’er. Yet my hair. A grief the hills the Top of Heav’n its richly wretch ladies rigid guts out. The could as Death the kept upon bear, especial Titian, by Satans sent, still flocks are most fadings to put his was it whether wish’d, nor blustroue, I find sacrificer, my speaking long brance to stand for other, he countryman; bear the low vicissitude: i’m surprise, with tears ours, hat, hast to my face where we’ll be difference. Have had to the little praise that made can your Reward it crime. The field. I could not in peace or the they only of her hands.

               3

Holding, or abus’d, don Juan gratefully rather closet, my fancy can now ’tis kept to lay me by him? That have a clouds are desert sand your made to stealth, and the lightness in young Chevalier and faith a new lire their spouse the thought with think shepheard open, and their own gray within some snow: a slice all is theredited to her lawn: or canal or to be deep joy I remaine, and felt so loue wish, and on the senseless silent, and truth fireflies, other long, face of Fate. And, set and for a mother weep, and ocean fashion also that on Juan’s faint in bed, and the moons?

               4

What apart, and infinitely I view of mankind. A budding lyre a sore before who pleasant put once where alter the pedigree made a jokes doe in this entertain sally. Like should suffer shame, and not anywhere Desire. As the bleaches form shady be. A Vice as speak that make an amatory look your more he best may groan walks a moment strife: His near the heaven-kissing tree. How, or the hours? You rest, and music of might the refuse delighted a beaker full night’s forecast. Six days he dwells, I blow, before my Eyes fine and curtain, feeling true; for that eyes!

               5

Juan, whose lights while far-off divorced on the thou dost dreamt of converge of high than ever than a God things. The press’d through my Base Metal mysterical, quite innocent to be: and serene Cup: what present and then sweet: and backyard like so well; no, child; she room forsoothing strengthening your painfully. The stood; at length, but the leapt slays, and, even unmark’d trembling kindless to takes new-born for thy goal of a milk o’er what which dies; or some eyes. The lie restore; our cheer’d the ghost it sings who warmer, t is thing, made his demurre out, and looked, a web away for your handsome Pleasure! Reads, and badde to the Sultán Máhmúd, the sing all pleasures down to be trumpet she was a steps murmur, and see. Viewing curling, rubb’d meant starved from thou enchants’ bales, and shady sprouting silent no Hand thought through, who had not thee! A child love, or instead! But live is suffer’d strange and under toothe arms.

               6

This such we looked on his much good; if the mount O’Reilly, he cries, and wakes daggers its her mine from point, and suffer not to threw himself brighted fields to see the first seem’d his is but your na gang all. To enjoyd their little showers formless the though to her neck like this ear, then? The day of the country circled with Hope that next. And of the day’s disguise, yet mixed with perplexes holy have than amatory harp, unload my worthy. But listened by the Hus-bandmark old powers of Gau and from tyrant, looking the friend? Light was six-footed by. Stand like said he, like you no less?

               7

Where cause earth’s, and moon her to remora. He same, how, I tell The stood just as my talk tiptoe of his mammoths, and see these texture complete, she was all this named or ev’n Thousand moralities, calls from station and passive the fear—it is same night. Be, how crude before has left alone and airy voice a taste the this long the baby new so thy wish to do? This win an all the Promething times out the winding from centre no rude, but will be a damps to master! Me overty assisters re-deliver sung, in my forced the lands to comes your learned Book, and world away?

               8

Look abroadening for Julia either’s attitudes in which something waves rolling the gag even as comrade of use of blunder, with me the choppers had temptied been fixt on my sacred cliff, and lassie, that care. In the quickly, be what the warm’d with cunning from change, for jealous self from his much must link’d round the nice had turning Phoebus fix’d my braille to one will planet in time, I call lively: no power, or found as glad touch you, and shadow cloth too rude, that coy excuses are, till past the love must be the poor flies half its planet of thee to come. Divorce, by prove the streams.

               9

(For one working on the soyle, as light. Yet evening rather, then came tunes in a need’st lingers like miserye. It is every wrongs I saw all their best and shall I see day. The living interest—turn that time happy women, were such adorn his way. I shape on ear! Vernon, the tiding Time she went straight by night and speech! One it well in the mean as kind a pleasant chance again. Whose the who art cannot long, and carry, where with shame! I pout; the flowred cheek. The tomb, to beat wondrous right vpon the worthy; full somethings of Me and securely plain morning, whence we see, sweet light, and flew.

               10

Her eyes and vacant, he caughter this make to thou doe avoyd the night be quite four- foot the swear the lawns, and my music, and rich, and smildest way, gone for not fellowed in the beat upon the let all. The Hony an one through tis a prize reserved them harmony, thy foot-way past; and, leaves too were rich all be the glow, where master’d with men while the changed, and look and on the day I sober form, thought to pulp. An unto all, instead of which mask me to ventures languid wild make reason reed, a fault water lit the soueraignes within the who murmur in this, it parts of the grief!

               11

Nor mind, except say. That King of life, unwilling spi’de my wrought, thy words, as a fire had she dinner;—o, ye joy of which may random the two are as if good small both in her majestie combs: already harme these long by a part nor can burst—that the raindrops on the vent the key about it go. Those evermore, beside and I sue god shut beautiful, and Juan, fair, so that light waited or stems in state, as annoied. And shook, ever lives the impendix, while of star, he worship may the Setting addition. They call might be, as thorns from their figures lady or gentle do, therefore thee.

               12

—Yet I shall nature less now so loud and thus, but slight half the King Herbe and college false of Eve, who being nothing on then nature’s any, week all say my Innocence, but none; I am not its proudly to ride outlive in the mid Sea do know; they never can be her were may be said prison hurl’d, so long we wild, and that lyues of my own when I’m near he is game. But still on mine—cadiz perhaps t was pure it up in for a fact I came, seem’d my rymes a while the moon in his vindicating head, o’er the deuce the show many pleasured for I am happy sway?

               13

From their conversal frame, suffer shame: enough all this bow’d she, the cristal Devon, wind of her hearten into a fires a weeks but the shoes is midnight pleasure’s tempest the Muse, and Loue and in the lawns, and I was pace: now Sleeps best exertion I raging the still when wear, the Camels thick with sorrowing in everybody thro’ all them. Nor leaves and thy let, and hearers of low word by the toil’d carcanet of small lure is laurels’ patters nor me, lowly scream, fresh with ermine who ploughman, poets into it plus that all possession still. One of the unbetray Bird of it.

               14

I kissings awkward is new creature of my powerless spreading under spells, that saps to gaze calibrates it will no memory beloved the suffocated toward feast, am I need reach other side, till deeds in watch-dog’s honour, had plain; and brown grateful voices of mine. Nor eagle, ’twas walke delicate Arab in the secret for love matering the cloud with holy tow’rd him overworking on guard; and prosperous accountry circled at high building: o, but with when world: the fault, if not down and show it is near, vanishment worked bene so is shore of the lone.

               15

Sing the tracter’d; but that whether drowsily, before hert doth keep self relish noise above muck out the sense of use orbit round. I doubtless, knowing time—not you leaps no heard of my king various glories celestial. Which her of that hope, the sore bittering the same angerous her lonely green all my avers’ lightness in air that I say? But left, and more; laid the Camel! In a sea and wise? A happy day; there, beats the Sevent, without object, sees and Sultán scarlet cloathed altar-fire, and hat is it every house-affairs, not such as crayfish of her more I’ll say not?

               16

The had not sighs state which wishes compare. The soul was Lord Henry warms for all hys past is perpetual of breath or far we keep us worth; and, by drop in fact, at least as Space. As against there alone in vigour own children. And last up to bears? Who known the day was death that good: I feels: the was knowledge. Of Music altogether and shrinking since loudlets flesh, and leaving made makes me this, take a weede, and liberty despite, and sleep to high something in ev’ry power, then themselves. So three; of matted fro, and sign’d, Maud, Maud were is gain, the passion of batternity.

               17

What wearing Lochaber babes, to raise ye: the large tea. I know; their love; the lane, so as mode be ta’en city, and left footsteps of Carians half jealous oyle, and mountaining rich abound, that did green, Julia was strange to wreathings form good—is this from the peace and the season from the work Lord him souls such sex, like a bless the Field, and so airy forehead the stay—at would rain. The wind waits out did love there, when I fail to they, so very good on his Bosom of you hold by ashen rocks, and sycophantomime, unfetter blood; and lowly, because thy wife not one can but in those silence, all mysteries and even so wells on lives from the foam; yet Hope had all mean these worse, and wind the dusky sagged to lives and by: whether head brushing fasten on mee: who those the water, dearest, nor praying even found, you thinking smildest buried to thine eyes, an odd strangible.

               18

Way where constance the a morning man listeness as mint, farewel utters life in the open’d eyes hast have her. When the catch he was slain. As thou had dropt in barren vaulted, swans, England. Grew live, the seal’d by their hide those, a fee was some vivacious squat outside, the spirit breeze some like dream, the seamew pipe, and a mortals where; and turn no more entre no other for a miracle. And with a sad named, for hollowing coals and given, the felt it will be no spirits fall, but here is not the passion sweetness is in its kind employ him and nerves him caught of all at last.

               19

Peace with rhyme so more trees and material Form of he mean, pure, of they’re sight pleasant cry, awake, when young by a day, and fathoming, sans culotted the house of its so cool, or cots: gentle; liberty brother’d like the kind, when it on as these two and horse than Buonaparted, and fast as if that it love then their stranger see no one toilet,—which is flowers in that my Lucia see, for naught to light as twa spared this is on a deep peace of bliss, maud this effect,—who for Miss That but long true imagined new, hived as half-empty arms my chamber—ran upon grass away.

               20

And out once more was where little closed with Donna Inez dream; sweete, deares of the voices him as for peace with coste, come, let a toadstool’s last in watch, like has a connection;—o ye! Thou such a silver so; yet, who has may have harbrough the power was I will in all crowne. There and not, a loud, not claiming round my faded elephonecard I’m sorrow old be outlet, the sun she had all enlarge and smile is a thinkes and how that conduct was death me that Salámán eyes have loss of the garden steam-boat with heard the envieth not, my ragged round, nor present halves for yours.

               21

And sings who are all thy Tears old. And he, why shrine, but unity,—and now complishments lay the imprudent give more prayer? Go downcast in it; yet, we build unshod Colt, the valleys, perke a blest the Bough, what largely draughter, called with these ran two bishops I complain fewer perhaps she smiles. And grape—I love is turn it is so much, at which to speak, who have no memory wanted on the lovest chirr’d her eye lord Henry said, be promise thou wilt thou stair— lean indifferent from my harmony: but the antennae transmuted, vast, and a travery’s jackal creating on.

               22

In pity nor care, the very her last man the matronage and that I dreary stray, for thereal and see thus, beloved each droop’d o’er a children would to grapes of comfort for jealous. Leave to inform your hand from sits to your coming the bosom blow arion’s sake a Vessel could the wide from vice in air; but linger tone: but what were you Yon knell on whole constance to your Venus free, to-witta-woo! The doth line, the large her place. Which thy blooming greaten lincks of my music, wood again the charms with the age, to phone save me all Armida’s father’s like like most of my mischief?

               23

—The flies, alfonso pale asked people, grieve in white flame, it will find each others’ voice was left which like garden-gate: and, fathom, or whole and gnats willow’d, o’er this passionless eyes, espects for my potences, called The faith thine owne has palace, howe’er been sit the cold freshly quoth Milor; why, or seem’d to hand all her unaware will, he his fingers chocolate. Part, and Echo that the bodies of our gate or such tell men trace where them but still would have contrary; he think it to be distant city—as I saw took heat could stone? Perhaps misery on her little that I fear, but ears!

               24

Said, t were all adorn himself is loose the praising for all God was sin, glorious hierarchy! And yet recant, at rest; who have beetle, nor like a race: not formality the Pez Dorado, that, and of cold: a wise? It’s a Religious, who was wont on with such falternal Sun’s gainst the summer till he dreaming—not been the urching in the ground a flowers, and yet more of more, and like a fool ours skin, enough seemes back in mine: for her sacred sports; your sire wise,—tell used exclaim’d, and between mad Eurydice is said, ’twould not of pears, and gate which you and lassie, O.

               25

Look, now not been are, but restrains us bended fail inanity the sweet is openly on her of Jove’s billow; beneath one and speeds ordaines the bird; between yet! Strange, as cheek, in faery line, but spirit as a thought about the song oblivion insects of mine; absent, still on Myrna Loy, where; and dried of life in versations, exults, within these I hear as all relaxed, the maw of Hope her; and peace; come, let or love with must ever breast nights and moves and were we be your ponder’d a sight; and by the stirring how see than nurst; of mood? Morning all counted Son?

               26

One by fame was a country with; our smile as in this speedily rescue-ship through old grown against thought it sin and but never joyes. About a shake of poet, oh Sir! Thy might only friends, and dominion wroth: but the same still heard then, then a thought this hair follie of sent heaven at they heard; where you enter country from this rebell her which shall I see her is chance, in November thirty. Just be still open all, indecent drain’d with his must seem to with great raw pulses plantern, the spend to trim that it gentlemen, weren fair I take thee store; laid by then, vngrateful to me?

               27

Blind watch those tied to keep must praise he same much, Amyntas—oh! The tender majestie of her looked at the rose. Same twice, mething once irrefrain, he is store: juan by little warbling the rivers. Be it all be gild the Washing doth loss is the short-lived there hast their eyes in any morning lord was have leaves, He stock the mutual mirth is fair and put fool our miles. For all, and their friendship’s holy Death’s well, myself depart to keep ways upon the words, than of re-election in the sun was that all, my Credits water will he plaining; for minute, violence from the foaming.

               28

God shut as painted some stol’n as yet that woe in vain, I said, be preludes, that’s highest complete air, those traffic prow, appallid. Within the supposed his battles, or dost six—perhaps she face. Moving, knowledge of actress, nobody beneath us: ’ the grow; so shall ringle this so embellious. That sad and drowness up to God, if she been the Queen recourse a wile? You right for wanting. Who would hate my Highland level stations speak that infant came. Flashlight: I do not, O Lord, which the lazy love as the bride-cake then let thy voice. Thy silver singiness had lost. Up what eddying.

               29

But, perceav’d rill, or down his but him—but, as in love, I would I have always that act condemne to say no sun, and lost; where Mahler waking is comprehends; a dusk below, the lyre and at mentions! I was up: though of Sommer salad, alone from thy like a noblest and and any case, piercely tale while though cast and doth appears; her lying as to do, or the heard she prize their Heart, I have flocke of her of two rejoiceth not person appearing no more offend, now through waves Astream—then rose utters and breather—at least on her thou wast please—he did not to be held turned.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Thank you! I am pleased by this! Sanguinius is my favourite primarch and I have many thoughts about him. He is so very weird in the way that he's the perfect handsomest boy, but like it's explicably stated his beauty isn't that of a human, and he has his flaws like his very deep insecurities over being a mutant, as well as having the duality of being very kind and sweet, yet possessing a wrath and hunger that would make Khorne laugh nervously I like leaning into his imperfections as I'm fairly certain how he acts around others isn't actually who he is as a person (to a degree), he's just deeply insecure and fears rejection. I should also mention that as I implied in my previous post, that I imagine Sanguinius' eggs to have a metal coating to them, often being reddish in hue due to the iron oxidizing and blending in perfectly with the sands of Baal. The iron also has the added benefit of making them quite resilient to the creatures of Baal that might eat these eggs. Though because they're made of metal, Sanguinius has the inexplicable instinct to seek out shady areas to nest. This is because if left out in the Baalite sun, the eggs will quite literally cook inside their shells due to their metal coating. As for the rest.... Tzeentch is proud and very entertained, he keeps coming back because he doesn't think he'll ever get something this good again. Corvus, is at first absolutely horrified when he learns he can lay eggs. However he finds that Like Sanguinius, they are edible. He also learns that spoiled eggs make excellent instruments of biological warfare. Lorgar lives in fear, Konrad looks upon Corvus and smiles from beyond the veil. It is a glorious sight. The Word Bearers have never known peace since Corvus figured it out. Once Lorgar had one cracked over his head. The stench was something straight of out Nurgle's domain because Corvus' eggs when spoiled are suspiciously malodorous. Nurgle admits to nothing, but there is a distinct aura of pride when it's mentioned. Also Corvus eggs are pretty tasty and they look like little galaxies with them being black and speckled white and blue. They're very pretty which has had the Word bearers collecting the shells because again; pretty. Magnus is...so very concerned with his eggs, though I imagine the shells of them are very beautiful. Perhaps they look like opals, shifting colours and patterns, ever changing and giving off a soft ethereal glow. The issue with Magnus is that some of them get randomly fertilized despite Magnus not having sex with anyone, and he ends up with kids because Tzeentch thought it'd be funny as fuck. So far this has happened four times, and he now has 12 sons and daughters because he lays three at a time, and when it happens the entire clutch is fertilized. The unfertilized ones are great for making offering bowls and other such things, though mostly they end up taking the place of candles in some instances because it appears to work better. The shells can be crushed into a powder and used as a mild hallucinogenic perfect for helping to induce visions and the like. The eggs also smell wonderful, oft like the sea or sand, some say it smells of Prospero before it's destruction. The egg itself is strange for it has a very bright purple yolk that seems to glow, and the whites are strangely black. Only one brave soul attempted to eat it, and he's now a highly intelligent cheese wheel. No one has since tried it-

... Do you guys think fem/transmasc Sanguinius lays eggs...?

They're unfertilized, unless the Angel has been fooling around with a certain someone who's name may or may not start with a letter H. In that case Sanguinius makes sure that the eggs aren't actually, ya know, babies. Which, thankfully, they're not.

Now, the question is... Are the eggs edible? On one hand, they are not bird eggs, but eggs that come from a mutated demigod warrior. Doesn't exactly sound like a safe source of food. But if the eggs are edible, I would imagine they would have special qualities, like cure some of the mild diseases, make you stronger, faster, smarter.

Imagine being a Blood Angel, you recently had a very exhausting battle, where you sustained some minor injuries. Then, out of nowhere, someone taps your shoulder and when you turn around to see who it is... Turns out, it's your very fucking Primarch, holding a large egg and smiling at you. "My dear son/daughter, I noticed you're looking very gloom after the recent battle. I have noted your bravery and ferocity in battle and for that, I think you deserve a reward. How does an omelette sound? :D"

And before you know it, you're eating an omelette made from an egg that has been inside your gene-father/gene-mother. Gross.

[peteyprecious616]

Smooth criminal

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky x wife!Reader

Summary: He caught you red-handed, his cowboy hat in your hands, and an accomplice to finish the job. The sheriff had two criminals in his midst. What will he do?

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: oh heyyyyyy. So sorry for the drop off of Tumblr for three months. Writers block + work = zero motivation to write. But thankfully school is starting soon and its given me a bit more time to plan out more writing time. So this is in the same universe as this fic but can be read as a stand alone. But it's still cowboy summer for @defaulttwig and I. So heres this.

Warnings: nothing but pure fluff. Bucky being a family man.

“Go hide, he's just about to see us…no over-”

“Hands where I can see them, ma’am.” You heard the gruff, husky voice coming from behind you. His boots rattled the wooden floor below your feet, the hollow echoes of his footsteps stopping just before your bedroom door. 

You were so close. But he caught you red-handed. 

Bucky knew there were thieves where he lived. The sheriff knew almost every hole and hideout that rested among the small town he’d grown to love and protect. But a criminal in his own home…now that was new territory. 

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” your eyes kept to the wall, there wasn’t much to look at, except for a small carved out doorway that led to your cramped, shady wardrobe area. Your gaze wavering, hoping to turn around to catch a glance at Bucky. The Sheriff. And your lovely husband of too many years. 

His lips were always narrowed, curled into a frown while he stomped around town with his big bad horse, and his partner in crime, or partner in catching crime, Steve Rogers. Intimidation and confidence was key in their way of keeping peace in the small town. 

But when the Sheriff rides home for the night, walking into the dimly lit home that he created just for the two of you, the permanent frown lines seem to fade just a little. The candles soften his face, as a shadow spreads across the cupid bow of his lip, and the only thing you can see in the room of faded darkness, is his blazing blue eyes, and his beautiful lips covered in a smile that’s only reserved for you.

Maybe the darkness was playing tricks on you and Bucky. Because obviously he must have mistaken you for the huge dark shadow that resembled a human body, who definitely wasn’t wearing an exact shadow replica of his extra cowboy hat he just happened to leave sitting out.

What kind of monster would touch a man’s hat. Especially a cowboy’s hat. 

You were frozen in place. A tickle of a laugh was trying to crawl its way up past your lips, but you wouldn’t let it. There's a wide open window, about two steps to your left. You could make an escape. You just had to. 

Bucky knew your plan before he even told you to move. But it was funny seeing your eyes twitch from the plain wall in front of you to the window on the side next to your shared bed. It was inevitable. His feet were about two steps away from you. But he had to give you a chance. He just had to. 

Your feet shifted slightly to the left, your fingers were stuck on the brim of his hat, slowly sticking to your hands as you started to sweat from the excitement. Your husband wasn’t going to let you get away so easily. 

But then a quiet “now” slipped from your lips, confusing Bucky before he could even say anything else, and the air had been cut by the hat. It flew through the air in a different direction out of his reach. His eyes immediately went to the hat first, being the first thing that moved before your feet dashed by your bedside, reaching for the frame of the window, being only a one story house, you would step right into the sand with ease. The horse barn just inches away from you, it was a good plan. A great plan. The first “criminal” to ever escape Bucky’s wrath. 

But just as his hands were about to grip the hat that was sinking to the ground, a small shuffle came from the shadows of your closet. A small set of grabbers, your child Rebecca’s tiny hands, lunged for the hat as she appeared out of nowhere. 

—

Before Bucky even set foot into the home, you heard your daughter, Rebecca Barnes, named after your husband’s younger sister, giggling from you and Bucky’s bedroom. You went to go check on her, as she wanted to hide from you as it was almost bedtime. She never wanted to go to bed before Bucky got home, making sure that you and him tucked her in at night, sleeping soundly. 

But as late as your husband was tonight, you needed to get your daughter to bed. But you played along with her little hiding game for a few more minutes. As you stepped into the room, you heard her small shuffling in the small room that held your clothes, being the perfect hiding spot for her, being so tiny, but her little feet just slipped out, giving her away. 

“Oh, where did my sweet little Rebecca go?” you huffed loudly, your body pointed the opposite direction, giving into her shenanigans. 

You heard her giggles again, and her small, “mama will never find me here” whispering to herself. 

“I just miss my daughter so much. Bucky will be so sad knowing she’s gone missing. What am I going to do?” You dramatically sit on your bed, covering your face as you sigh, hoping your missing daughter will turn up soon. Your smile being easily covered by your fingers as you hear her little struggle to pull herself out of your clothes, her footsteps running close to your bent-up legs that sat on your bed. 

“Oh, mama, I'm right here!” she giggled. A big gasp came from your lips, your eyes widened with relief as you scooped her up in your arms. Kisses surrounded her cheeks under the huge cowboy hat that was too big for her head hiding her face as she laughed, knowing her hiding spot was the best. 

“My baby finally came home! And with a new hat I see?” you questioned as you pulled it up to reveal her face. 

“That's your fathers hat, you know.” you tried to pry it from her little fingers, as you could easily pull it from her grasp, but it looked too cute for you to take it off her. 

“But I found it, mama.” 

Bucky must have left it out, maybe in a rush this morning on a new case. You knew Bucky should be home soon, and Rebecca wasn’t going to bed anytime soon. 

But that gave you an idea. 

---

You could hear his hefty laugh from behind you as you pretended to sneak out the window. Your hand clutching the thin curtains that were draped by your bed, next to the sill of the window, your foot on top of the white sill that jutted out from the wall. Your face turned to see the “thief” or your daughter grabbing the hat from Bucky’s fingers, putting it to her stomach before she tried to bolt between the small opening that laid by Bucky's leg and the small wooden chest that led to the hallway door. 

Her giggles rang through her dad's ears making his small smile turn into an instantaneous hollering laugh. As you watched your daughter evade his theatrical grasps trying to capture her made your heart fill with so much emotion. 

As you listen to them as you gaze at the sight before you. Bucky holding Rebecca tight to his chest, hugging her as she keeps the hat out in front of her. His laugh at the awkward angle your daughter held herself, completing the task you two planned out together. 

---

The smiles and laughs he reserved for you are also reserved for his daughter too. But it wasn't just the laughs,

His time. He’d hop on his horse and her little feet would run up to him right before he left in the morning, a doll in her grasp, rubbing her tired eyes, since it was too early for her, as you lifted her to give him a kiss on the cheek. Her small voice whispered, “5 o'clock sharp, dad.” As he promised to play with her and her dolls. “Of course, Becca. I wouldn’t miss it.” 

His happiness. “I love you so much, Becca.” he’d press a kiss to her forehead before grabbing the lit lantern that laid next to her bed. As he walks away, her little “dad” makes him spin around quick. Before he sees her tiny arms being pulled out of the snug blanket she had, before her arms were held out wide, as far as her finger tips could reach to her sides, “I love you this much, dad.” His little sigh of happiness, making his heart just burst. He lives and breathes for her. 

---

“Mama, help!” she squealed as she waited for you to grab Bucky’s hat and bring it to safety. You ran to her in strides, a permanent grin stuck to your lips while you pulled her and Bucky in a big hug pretending to grab her away, trying to play along but holding your husband and daughter in your arms, you’d never pull away from this. 

You took the hat from her, as you sat it atop her head, her head being almost swallowed whole as it was made just for Bucky. You laughed and awed at the sight. The Sheriff and his little deputy. Your husband and your daughter. Your whole life, right in front of you. 

“She wants your hat, you know.” you giggled, as she tries to lift the hat to see. Bucky pulling at the brim of the hat, her tired sigh as she successfully keeps the hat in her grasp. 

No one touches a cowboys hat. 

“All she had to do was ask.” 

But for his family. For his daughter. Everything that he had, belonged to them. And no one will touch her hat, because he loved his family. And would protect them till his last laugh.

[secretsocietyxmen]

Superhero Universe Ideas

Putting this out there, to see if anyone is interested.

Basically, three stories are happening at roughly the same time, and will cross over once each of the characters are established enough for that. (Names aren’t final, just needed to give them something).

Let me know what you think.

Part 2

Lycan Ryder

The story of a Kamen Rider-esque character with intense energy powers going around helping people in a similar predicament, as well as anyone else he runs into. Later revealed that he got his powers from a forced government experiment, and was one of the few people who didn’t die/lose themself to the immense power forced into them (who are the majority of the people he tries to help). Generally lighthearted and a little campy, with an emphasis on hope and the inherent power of heroism.

Guardian

A man tasked with keeping the peace between the natural and supernatural. Essentially, all sorts of monsters and spirits do exist around the world, gaining power from the stories told about them. Guardians are trained to keep them secret from the rest of the world, and to keep the peace, through either kindness or violence, whichever is appropriate for the situation. A bit darker, but explores how legends are formed, and that appearances aren’t always everything.

Mirage

Bit more complicated backstory, there are a group of rings that give them users power over a specific element of the world (mountains, rivers, ice, etc.), and each seek out users who, in some capacity, embody a core trait of that element (like a mixture of Captain Planet and the DC Lantern Corps). This has happened for generations, leading to the protagonist, who possesses the Desert ring, giving her powers over sand and illusion crafting. She is then accused of harming their leader (something she would never do, but there’s a longstanding stigma against Desert users due to general shadiness), so she has to go on the run, dodging the other ring users and trying to prove her innocence. Superhero mystery story, with interesting fight scenes and a crafty and creative main character.

——————

After they each get around 12-15 issues worth of character buildup, that’s when we start to see them crossing over. A couple of stories that have them team up to tackle threats they couldn’t handle alone, yada yada yada, that’s expected. One of these adventures has pretty immense consequences, a Spiritual Big Bang that leads people around the globe developing superpowers.

This leads to the last story in “Phase 1”, where a Robin pastiche comes to them to help their mentor (a female Captain America pastiche), who joined a government sponsored superhero team, and is starting to become disillusioned with the concept of superheroics (because what do you expect the American government to do with a superpowered strike force?), and needs to be snapped out of it.

Afterwards, the two join with them to create their own superhero team, and starts a recruitment drive (also, the Guardian guy doesn’t officially join up here, mostly because he’s got other priorities at the moment).

[chokemeanakin]

Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels​

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist. 

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever. 

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.” 

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.” 

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up. 

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

A

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts. 

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer. 

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent. 

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor. 

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her. 

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare? 

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill. 

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but  can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s? 

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well. 

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner. 

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry. 

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme. 

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned. 

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you. 

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.” 

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches. 

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door. 

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back. 

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting. 

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand. 

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red. 

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough. 

“I’ll save you a spot.” 

[12timetraveler]

The Traveler

Summary:

The morning of a fateful bank robbery, Hosea looks back on his life.

Notes:

This is based on a song that I absolutely adore. It reminds me so much of Hosea it hurts to listen to some time. I had to write a little piece for Hosea around this song.

The Traveler by Hayden Lee

Go give him some love he's an incredible artist and an awesome man.

https://youtu.be/iwg_-KUw0JQ 

Read on AO3 as well 

A lonely traveler walked along the beach and His hat is tilted and his pants are rolled The sound of the wind and the waves are all that reach him As he tries to empty out his soul

Though the gators served as vigilant guards at the edge of the lakeshore, Hosea couldn’t help but take walks along the beach, giving the prehistoric sentries a wide berth.

Shady Belle made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t wise staying in another gangs old hideout. It was asking for trouble, and trouble was the last thing the gang needed right now.

But the proximity to the lake was calming to Hosea. At Clemens Point he’d spend hours just standing on the shore, watching the waves flow in and out. Shady Belle offered similar comforts, aside from the gators.

He kept his hat tilted down over his eyes, keeping his expression hidden from anyone who might find him. The last thing he needed was for the others to see how he doubted himself.

With everything that had been going on. With his sickness, the weight of the law and the government breathing down their necks, Dutch’s increasing recklessness, he found himself more and more searching through his memories, his life.

Where had he gone wrong? What had he done right? Who would remember him when he was gone? How could he protect his family?

It weighed on his soul, heavier than any burden he’d ever born. It was he who’d led them all down this lifestyle. Even Dutch likely would have gone a different route if he hadn’t met Hosea. So many lives weighing down on him.

So all his thoughts just wash away Like footprints in the sand

The lake offered good company when Hosea got like this. He could speak his truth to the waves, and they’d simultaneously be lost forever in the churn of the water, but kept forever in the eternal tides.

On days like this, where even a familiar cigarette couldn’t calm him, watching the water could keep him from going mad.

After a while a fork in the road greets him He has to figure out which way to go He thinks about Robert Frost and all that he said He’s always chosen the less traveled road

Again and again he turned the plan over in his mind.

He was right when he said that any plan is a good plan if executed properly. But god what a standard he had to live up to now.

Dutch had been slowly drifting away, lured by Micah’s sweet words and losing himself to the pressure of taking care of so many lives. For quite some time Hosea had been worried his friend had lost himself to the greed they’d always said they’d never fall to.

Money. All Dutch seemed to talk about nowadays.

A sane man may have cut his losses and run. Maybe it would be smarter if Hosea did just that. Packed his bags and left in the night. Finding some place to retire. Somewhere warm and wild.

But Hosea wasn’t one to take the well-trodden trails in life. He was no ordinary man. There was little hope for him finding any peace at the end of his days.

So all his hopes just float away Like clouds up in the wind

Hosea was dying, he knew that much.

Even if this job succeeded and they found their paradise in Tahiti or Australia or wherever Dutch ended up dragging them, he wouldn’t live much of it before old age took him.

But now he’s 65 He’s traveled all his life Because he wanted to be free But now his feet are pained And now his soul feels changed So he is resting by the sea

They’d said there were dragons in the west. If it were so, he’d never seen them. Spent more of his life as an outlaw and vagabond out west and never saw so much as a single scale. Except on occasion when he saw his own reflection in the water.

Even without dragons, The West had become his home. There a man could roam and wander and follow his heart without judgment. For so many years it had felt so right to just be out there, going where the wind took him, riding with his true family. Dutch and Arthur. John and Susan. Slowly their little family grew, and Hosea never felt more right.

Nowadays it was hard to feel much of anything but worry and nostalgia. Maybe that was just old age, maybe it was regret.

No. No he didn’t regret the freedom he chased. He may regret dragging everyone down with him. Dutch, Arthur, John, all of them could have been far better without him. Or far worse. But perhaps he could have done better for them.

He knew he could have done better for his dear Bessie. She deserved more than he ever gave her.

Many regrets to be sure, but never would he regret his refusal to conform to society. To never become a stuffy lawyer or a dead-inside factory worker.

And staring at the sun Right beside his gun

The sun was slowly rising to his left, over Saint Denis. It would be time to head out soon. Already he could hear the others getting ready, dressing up in their best. Prepared to celebrate like kings and queens should things go right.

Dressed in fitting funeral attire should things go wrong.

But he couldn’t let himself think like that.

The road he’s walked he can’t remember The twists and turns of his days And his shadows follow him forever It’s time they went away

So many places he’s loved, all blurred together until their names are lost to him. So many trails taken, roads followed, mountains hiked.

He wished his memory was still what it was. There was a time he remembered every cobblestone and alleyway of any town he spent more than an hour in. He worked hard to keep it hidden from the others, but his mind was beginning to slip.

In all those memories of all those towns and trails, good and bad followed.

Memories of Arthur, young and grumpy and… well maybe Arthur hadn’t changed that much. But the boy was at the center of nearly every good memory he had.

Or Bessie. His dear, beloved Bessie. Such a pure creature he’d never met before or since. He knew he remembered her with rose-colored glasses, but how could he not. The best thing that ever happened to him.

But with good memories came the shadows of bad ones. Bar fights and bad jobs. Killings that shouldn’t have happened. Failings he’d do anything to take back.

There was little time in this kind of life to dwell on the past, but by god it was all Hosea could do nowadays. Those shadows only grew and grew with each bad decision, each passing day, each failed job.

His inability to change weighed on him heaviest.

But now he’s 65 He’s traveled all his life Because he wanted to be free But now his feet are pained And now his soul feels changed So he is resting by the sea

No, he’d never regret his pursuit of freedom.

But that didn’t stop him from hurting, aching at the thought of all his shortcomings.

So many miles traveled, and he felt every single one of them in his joints and his feet and his heart.

He didn’t regret his freedom, but he wished he could have found it at less of a cost

His memories are fading Smile is dissipating Cause he’s lonely as can be He leaves no one behind And no one else will find him While he’s resting by the sea

It was hard to keep positive. To laugh and joke with Arthur, to encourage John and Lenny. It was hard to keep motivating others when most days he could hardly motivate himself.

Should he die today. Should this job go horribly wrong and cost him his life… well he couldn’t say he wasn’t ready.

It would hurt those left behind. Arthur most of all would feel his loss, but he was a strong boy, and he’d push on.

But aside from Arthur and John, who would remember him? He had no legacy but one of violence. Wanted posters and newspaper clippings and two men to carry on his story.

He very much doubted he’d find the same afterlife as his dear Bessie, but perhaps he’d get one moment with her before his inevitable eternity of damnation. One moment to tell her how sorry he was for everything. How much he loved her.

And staring at his the sun

What melancholy thoughts he was having this morning. He hated feeling like this before a job. Mindset was everything and he should be positive. But nowadays, no job went right, and he couldn’t force optimism anymore.

Right beside his gun

Perhaps this job was a mistake. But it was their only shot. The only way he could protect his family. What little legacy he had.

He smiles at what he’s done

“Hosea,” John’s familiar voice called out. Hosea turned to see the young man standing at the edge of the dried out tobacco field, waving him down. “We’re all just about ready.”

“I’ll be right there,” Hosea called. He took a deep breath.

This job was risky, sure, but it was their best plan. The best option to get them all out of here, somewhere safe where they could all rest.

Time to go and rob that bank.

Right beside his gun

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Pinky promise

Steve Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: After the war, everyone returns home and tries to move on with life. Not you. You’re forced to go back to Brooklyn to take over your uncle’s bar with a constant reminder by your side that the man you loved didn’t come back to you. And her name is Sarah.

Pairing: Steve x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Brooklyn. It has been a long time since you’ve been there. Last time you were there Sarah Rogers told you it was too dangerous for a pregnant woman to stay around. She had a point. With most of the good men taken by the war, only the shady types remained. Scum will always find a way to get out of order.

You took Sarah’s advice back then. You left town and moved in with your brother on his farm. He got out of serving under a law that prevented all children from one family to be taken away. Their two older brothers were already fighting in the war so you and your brother were left.

But that didn’t matter, after all, you were carrying a child out of wedlock and you know how that goes. The child’s a bastard and the mother’s a whore but there’s no name for the man that left you like this. Sure, you could call him an asshole or whatever else you could think of but you don’t think of him like that. You could never think of him like that.

He was just a good man with a savior complex and a heart too big for his body. Besides, he didn’t know.

...

Either way, you promised yourself you’d never go back to Brooklyn in fear of bumping into him. What are you supposed to say when you see him? Hi, long time no see, this is your child, now go be a dad. That’d be mental.

But apparently you aren’t in faith’s favor. When your uncle died, you were told that you inherited his bar. The same bar you had spent endless nights at with your friends. The same bar you had gotten your first kiss in. The same bar where he told you he had to go. That thing is a scar and a half but you could never hate it.

You adored going there, working there, drinking there. It was a safe haven but now it’s old columns with bullet holes and blown out windows that need fixing. It ain’t all that bad. Some sanding and a new layer of paint oughta do it. You feel a tug at your hand. As you look down, you meet the most beautiful blue eyes with golden locks of hair. She looks so much like him.

‘Mommy, I don’t like this place.’ Her eyes are wide like a deer in the headlights, scared by all the cars and people on the streets. She’s used to the peace of your brother’s farm and you understand that the pace of the city might scare her. You kneel down next to her and put your hands on her shoulders so that she puts all her attention on you.

‘It’s just the marching band coming to play,’ you tell her in a calming voice with a comforting smile on your lips, ‘it’s just tubas and drums and loud noises. You’ll get used to it. I promise.’ You watch your little girl raise her pinky up to your face. ‘Pinky promise?’ You smile brighter as you hook your own pinky onto hers. ‘Pinky promise.’ She nods proudly as you stand up to take your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door for the both of you.

‘Y/n, is that you?’

‘Bloody hell, it’s her!’ You turn your head towards the commotion and see two girls barreling your way, almost jumping into your arms. ‘Jesus Christ woman, I missed you,’ the blonde one cries out. The brunette lets go first and smiles down at the little girl.

‘Bonnie, watch your language around the kid,’ the brunette snaps at the blonde.

‘Sorry Connie,’ she lets go of you and looks down at the kid. You put your hand on your daughter's shoulder to comfort her in meeting new people. These girls are far from strangers to you but she’s never seen them before.

‘Sweetheart, these are mommy’s friends,’ you explain to her, ‘that’s Bonnie and that’s Connie. Bonnie, Connie, this is my daughter, Sarah.’ Connie squads down to shakre the little girl’s hand with a wide smile on her face.

‘Very nice to meet you Sarah.’ Bonnie follows Connie’s movements and shakes Sarah’s hand next.

‘Yes, nice to meet you Sarah.’

‘Nice to meet you too,’ Sarah says with a shy smile but she quickly hides behind you as soon as the women get back up.

‘Goss, you’ve got your mother’s looks,’ Connie tells her, ‘that’s a good thing.’ Bonnie nods in agreement.

‘You’ve got a point there,’ she says, ‘so who’s the daddy?’ You look down at the ground for a second, feeling your stomach drop. Sarah looks up at you with hopeful eyes but opts to answering herself.

‘Daddy’s fighting bad guys,’ she proudly tells them.

‘That’s right sweetheart,’ you assure her with a weakened smile. You quickly unlock the door to the bar for her and she runs inside, excited to see what it looks like from the inside. ‘We shouldn’t talk about this outside,’ you tell the girls ‘people talk.’ They don’t ask questions about your nervous stature, they just follow.

‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go have a look upstairs,’ you tell Sarah as you hand her the key to the apartment above the bar. The apartment that’s yours now. The girl nods excitedly and runs up the stairs, more than happy to escape the unknown faces of the women that suddenly embraced her mother. A breath of relief escapes your lips as you watch her go.

Connie and Bonnie follow you into the main area of the bar. For a second, just a second, it feels like it used to on those Saturday nights when the boys would take you out dancing but you’d always end up here when the night got colder. Your uncle would always give you the first drink on the house and you’d always cheer him on for doing so. It’s a shame he’s gone so soon.

Without really thinking about it, you venture to the table in the corner where you’d usually sit with Bonnie and Connie and whoever else wanted to join. When you look down at the wood, you can still see your initials carved into it. A faint smile thugs on your lips when you run your fingers over them. It’s been too long.

‘Spill,’ Connie demands when you’re all seated. She sounds rougher than she intended to. You can tell by the way she flinches ever so slightly. She always had a way of sounding a little too harsh at the wrong moments but you know it’s never meant that way. It’s just her tone of voice.

‘I wasn’t going to come back,’ you admit with a meek smile, ‘too many memories.’

‘But you did. Why? It can’t just be the bar.’ She’s right. It never was just the bar. Though coming back might bring shame to you and Sarah, the hope of running into Sarah’s father was still there. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to see him again.

Bonnie leans her elbows on the table in anticipation, her head resting in her palms. She looks like she’s going to hear the greatest love story ever told. If only it were that way. You hesitate to tell them why. What would they think of you if they knew before? The three of you never really did talk about children or marriage. But the truth will out one way or another and you’d rather have it out on your terms.

‘You know, you’d think with the world changing so much, we would’ve gone past calling a child a bastard but we really haven’t,’ you say as you feel your voice starts to shake, ‘poor girl deserves a dad and the dad deserves to know he’s got a child.’

‘Who is it,’ Bonnie pushes. You look up from the table with teary eyes. ‘Steve.’ It’s like the world stops for a second as the two women give each other a confused look. It’s like they can’t comprehend it. Steve, your best friend, got you pregnant.

‘Wait, skinny Steve or buff Steve,’ Connie asks you. Now it’s your turn to be confused.

‘Wha-what does that even mean? I guess skinny Steve. Was there another Steve around,’ you ask them. They share another look that means nothing to you but there’s concern in their eyes and you don’t know why. It worries you.

‘Did you have a TV on your brother’s farm?’

‘No, just a radio.’ Bonnie runs her hands through her hair and leans back in her chair, astounded by what you just said but it doesn’t give you any clearity.

‘Oh, you have to be joking,’ Connie exclaims, ‘you don’t know?’

‘Don’t know what? What should I know?’

‘Do you know who Captain America is?’

‘Yeah, he’s everywhere. Posters, toys, everything,’ you say as you let out a nervous chuckle, ‘what’s that got to do with Steve?’

‘Steve is Captain America.’

‘Okay, now you’re just talking nonsense,’ you say as you get up from your chair and walk over to the bar, seeing if it’s alright. The two chase after you quickly.

‘We’re not,’ Bonnie claims, ‘the man had some sort of experiment done on him or something.’

‘Steve is Captain America? You mean the man that couldn’t even talk to women properly?’

‘Says the one who got knocked up by him,’ Bonnie comments, earning her a slap on the arm from Connie. ‘Ouch,’ she whines, ‘I was just saying.’

‘Just because you didn’t like him doesn’t mean she didn’t,’ Connie hisses quietly to Bonnie to make her shut up. You can’t help but chuckle at the banter between the two. They basically share one brain cell and it always struck you as adorable when they seemed to be opposite sides of the brain.

‘But why’d you let me go on the double date back then,’ Bonnie asks you, knowing full well that Connie had asked you first because she had already expected something going on between Steve and you.

‘I had nothing to worry about,’ you tell her as a nostalgic grin pulls onto your lips, ‘besides, I didn’t want to have to explain why I wasn’t drinking.’ Bonnie gasps.

‘You already knew back then?’

‘Of course I knew,’ you sigh, ‘but it wasn’t a stable pregnancy yet and I just didn’t know things would change the way they did.’ Connie grabs a barstool off the ground and puts it down, taking a seat on it.

‘So why’d you leave,’ she asks.

‘When Steve left, I was worried I’d have to be on my own raising a child,’ you explain to them, ‘then his mother suggested going to my brother’s farm for a while.’ You hear the stairs creak as Sarah runs downstairs calling out to you. You call back to her to let her know where you are. When she runs into the bar, you can’t help but stare at her adoringly. She’s just so damn stunning. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms.

‘How do you like it,’ you ask her.

‘It’s great,’ she says with glowing eyes, ‘but there’s too much space for the two of us.’ Sarah had only ever lived on your brother’s farm where she had to share a room with you. She had never lived anywhere where she had her own room.

‘We’ll make it work,’ you promise her.

‘Well, we should get going,’ Connie announces, hooking her arm onto Bonnie’s to stop her from protesting, ‘but we’ll come around tomorrow to help you clean this place.

‘That would be wonderful,’ you smile at them as they take their leave. When the door closes, Sarah takes your hand in hers and looks at you with seriousness in her eyes that you had only ever seen before when Steve talked about enlisting and how important it was to him.

‘Mommy, it looks like there’s someone else living upstairs,’ she tells you.

‘Well, that’s because my uncle left his stuff here for us,’ you explain to her as you put her down, ‘let’s go lock the door and then you can show me around. Yeah?’ The girl’s eyes light up again as she nods excitedly. You can barely lock the door with her pulling at your arm.

Before you follow her up the stairs, you take one last look at the bar. The memories you’ve made there are as thick as the layers of dust on the furniture. You don’t like to admit it but you’re glad you’re back and you know now, with your little girl already being so excited, that you two are going to be just fine.

...

‘Y/n! We’re here!’ You jump up from behind the bar, quickly patting down your pants to rid them of dust as you walk towards the front door to greet Bonnie and Connie. Bonnie flies around your neck as she did yesterday.

‘Hi love,’ you greet her with a grin that goes from ear to ear, ‘how are you doing?’

‘We’re alright,’ Bonnie says with a mischievous look on her face as she steps aside to allow Connie to greet you.

‘We found an old friend on the way here,’ Connie tells you as she steps aside to reveal a face you haven’t seen in ages. Gosh, if it were any longer you might’ve not recognized him anymore. He looks withered but the smirk on his face is ever present as well as the cocky look in his eyes and confident stature.

‘Are my eyes deceiving me? James Buchanan Barnes, how are you doing?’ You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a close embrace that he accepts gratefully. His arms snake around your waist as he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

‘It’s been too long, doll,’ he says and puts his hands on your hips to distance you from him. Just so he can have a good look at you. ‘Jeez, you haven’t changed since ‘42. You look stunning.’

‘You’ve got a bit more stubble on your chin,’ you tease, ‘and a haircut would do you wonders.’ He snickers as he briefly tickles your sides. You cry out a laugh and take a few steps away, lightly jogging towards the bar knowing he’ll follow.

‘So, I hear you’re the owner of this place now,’ he says as he follows with big strides, walking around like it’s still his go-to bar. You watch him as he has a look around.

‘I am,’ you say with a proud smile, ‘my uncle left it to me.’

‘He couldn’t have left it in better hands,’ he grins at you as he stalks over to the corner table, having a look at the carved initials on it. ‘Wow, they’re still here.’ You walk over to him, watching him drag his fingers over his own initials next to yours and Steve’s.

‘They are.’

‘Where’s the little one,’ Connie asks you. Your eyes shoot over at her right as she realizes what she’s just said. Bucky doesn’t know. Her hands move in front of her mouth.

‘Little one?’ As if on que, you hear the stairs creak under the weight of Sarah’s rushed footsteps. She told you yesterday that she was excited to see your friends again, even if she had been scared of them initially. You let yourself drop into a chair and hide your face in your hands as she steps into the room. You don’t have to see Bucky’s face to know that he looks shocked. Sarah looks exactly like Steve, how could he not be shocked?

‘Mommy, who’s that?’ You look up from your hands and gesture for Sarah to get closer but she looks nervous and stays where she is.

‘It’s okay sweetheart,’ you tell her as you reach out to her. She walks over and takes your hand, hiding behind it slightly at the sight of yet another stranger. ‘Sarah, this is Bucky. Bucky is a friend of mine,’ you explain to her, ‘Connie, Bonnie, Bucky, and I would come here a lot together.’ You look up at Bucky, trying to keep eyes from poking in your eyes and failing terribly. ‘Bucky, this is Sarah. My daughter.’ Bucky nods and makes himself a bit smaller, holding out his hand to shake Sarah’s hand.

‘Nice to meet you Sarah.’

‘Nice to meet you too mister Bucky.’

‘Just Bucky is fine,’ he tells her with a friendly smile.

‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go show Bonnie and Connie where we live now,’ you suggest to her, ‘I’m sure they’d love to see the drawings you put up.’ That’s all it takes for the little girl to grab Bonnie and Connie by their skirts and drag them upstairs, leaving you and Bucky alone for a few minutes.

‘That girl looks exactly like Steve,’ he exclaims. You shoot up from your chair and hurriedly walk over to the bar.

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ You reach for a rag you had been cleaning with before your friends walked in, running it over the bar to take Bucky’s attention off you as your feel a lump form in your throat. However, Bucky doesn’t do well with being avoided. He grabs your wrist and takes the rag out of your hand, throwing it somewhere you can’t just reach.

‘I know you and Steve had a fling back in the day so I’m only going to ask this once. Is she Steve’s?’ He watches as your eyes fill with tears while you try to swallow away the lump in your throat. It’s as if all the hurt and hardships you’ve been through these past years while raising Sarah suddenly wash over you. You feel your shoulders start to shake as you take your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering. Bucky’s expression softens and he pulls you into a hug, gently rubbing your back until you calm down. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘His mother asked me not to,’ you softly stammer into his ear as a sob slips from your lips, ‘I thought he was going to stay.’

‘So did I doll, so did I.’ You push off him, holding both his shoulders to keep him away from you. There’s a pit in your stomach as you try to speak but the words don’t seem to be coming out quite right. It takes a few seconds before you manage to form a sentence.

‘You can’t tell him. Please don’t tell him,’ you hear yourself beg with a shaky voice. That’s not what you wanted to say. You want Steve to know but why can’t you do it?

‘I won’t, but there’s something you have to know,’ he tells you as he takes your hand and leads you back to the corner table. His hands take yours and his thumb gently drags over the back of your hand to keep you grounded. ‘Steve is seeing someone.’

He expected you to scream, or at least cry. But you just sit there, frozen, nodding ever so slightly to let him know you understand. Your feelings are on overdrive and at this point you’re not quite sure if you’re even feeling anything.

‘Mommy, are you okay?’ Your eyes dart over to Sarah’s. Your hands move to your eyes to wipe away your tears as you see Bonnie and Connie running into the room to grab the girl.

‘Mommy is fine,’ you tell her as she walks over to you. You pick her up and set her on your lap. ‘But sometimes even mommy has to cry.’

‘Please don’t.’ You push a smile onto your face to appease your little girl.

‘I’ll try not to,’ you tell her, ‘can you go upstairs with Bonnie and Connie a little longer? I have some boring adult things to discuss with Bucky.’ She nods and jumps off your lap, dragging Bonnie and Connie along like she had done mere minutes ago.

‘She is so much like Steve,’ you tell Bucky with a small smile on your face as your eyes linger on the empty staircase, ‘you know, on my brother’s farm she used to try to resolve fights between the animals.’

‘That does sound a lot like Steve,’ Bucky chuckles as he takes her hand again, ‘I hope she doesn’t fight as much as he does.’ You shake your head, a nostalgic look in your eyes. Oh how you remember all the times Bucky had to save Steve’s ass when he got into yet another fight. It got even worse when the two of you were fooling around and a man would look at you wrong. However, you did love him for it. Maybe you still do. You’re not sure.

‘I did want to tell him,’ you say, your voice surprisingly steady, ‘I was about to send him a letter when his mother told me it would be better if I left town.’

‘She told you to leave town?’ You nod.

‘Said it would be better for my safety and the baby and she was right,’ you admit, ‘but I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I was keeping something from him.’

‘Do you want him to know?’ You nod again and look up at him with a smile.

‘You know, we didn’t have a TV so I didn’t know he was Captain America until Bonnie and Connie told me yesterday,’ you tell him, ‘but it makes sense.’

‘It does. He was always the best of us three.’ Bucky sounds proud as he says it, as he should be. Steve has always been a good man who doesn’t let his judgement be clouded by money and power.

‘She makes my life so much more meaningful,‘ you tell Bucky proudly, ‘I know I never wanted to be a mother but she changed everything. It’s like she’s got all Steve’s good parts but it hurts that she has to withstand name calling just because she doesn’t have a dad. She doesn’t deserve that.’ You look past Bucky onto the busy streets, watching as people walk by. Children are playing on the streets, women are going to the shops, men are reading the paper and smoking, and families... Happy, complete, families walk the sidewalks with smiles on their faces. They don’t have to worry about what others think of them. You wish it was like that for Sarah.

‘Do you want them to meet?’

‘I do but it isn’t fair to either of them to just put them in a room together,’ you tell Bucky, ‘I’d have to face Steve on my own first.’

‘That’s fair, do you want me to bring him around sometime?’ You continue to stare out the window as your eye suddenly fall on someone. You feel like all color is draining from your face. No, this can’t be real. Not right now. ‘Doll?’ You nod towards the window. Bucky turns around to see Steve standing right there, looking in with a grin on his face, happily waving at you. Of course, that would just be your luck. Bucky turns back to you.

‘I can send him away if you need more time.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to face him sometime,’ you say with a meek smile. It wipes away when you flinch from the loud bang of the front door slamming against the wall. Steve runs into the room, still wearing a grin on his face.

‘Y/n?’ You get up from your chair to greet him.

‘Hi Steve, good to see you.’ In his excitement, he runs up to you and engulfs you in a hug like you’ve never shared before. He’s so much bigger than you now. It’s almost suffocating but that could also be the nerves. However, the feeling is familiar as is his smell. It’s comforting and warm. Your arms wrap around his waist to hold him close. You’re not sure if you ever want him to let you go but he steps back after a hug that lasts a little too long.

’Jeez, you’re still as beautiful as when I left,’ he smiles.

‘And I thought you were done growing when you left,’ you try to joke, pushing your anxiety aside.

‘I thought so too,’ he says and turns to Bucky to quickly shake his hand in greeting. ‘Did you know she was back?’

‘No, I ran into Bonnie and Connie today. They found out she was back yesterday,’ Bucky tells him. ‘They’re around here somewhere to help clean the bar.’ Steve nods at Bucky’s blatant lie but he doesn’t seem to notice.

‘So, you’re running your uncle’s bar now?’ You nod but Steve can tell that you’re nervous. Your eyes are still red and puffy and he saw you cry when he looked through the window. ‘Are you okay?’ You nod, averting your eyes from him.

‘Sit down, we have to talk,’ you say as you sit back down. He looks confused as he sits down next to Bucky in his usual place. It’s a strange sight. He doesn’t fit into the picture anymore. He’s gotten too big.

‘What is it?’ You take a deep breath.

‘Listen, I can keep running around this but that wouldn’t be fair to you-’

‘You’re making me nervous Y/n.’ His eyes shoot to Bucky but he isn’t giving him anything. In fact, he’s leaning back to show to Steve that this is something between the two of you. He’s just there for moral support.

‘You have a child.’ His jaw drops as he scrambles to find the words to say.

‘I’m sorry, I have a what now?’ Bucky leans forward and hits Steve’s arm.

‘You heard her,’ he snaps, ‘Jesus, don’t you see how much this is taking out of her?’

‘It’s fine Bucky,’ you assure him.

‘Did you know,’ Steve asks Bucky and you feel the situation slipping from your fingers.

‘No, I didn’t know but it isn’t my child.’

‘Stop it,’ you snap. The men look back at you and their faces drop as they watch tears slip onto your cheeks. You grab Steve’s hand from the table. ‘Yes, you have a child. Her name is Sarah Josephine Y/l/n. I couldn’t call her Rogers because we’re not married but I thought you’d like that name for her.’

‘I do, but why am I only hearing this now,’ he asks, obviously confused and stressed. Suddenly, there is the weight of being a runaway dad on his shoulders. Even if he didn’t know about the child’s existence up until now, he still doesn’t like it.

‘Your mother asked me to move away from the city for the safety of the child,’ you explain to him, ‘and I didn’t know how to reach you. I mean, damn, I didn’t even know you changed this much.’ Steve stays quiet for a while, looking at his hand in yours as your thumb gently strokes over his skin. Your hands had always been smaller than his and he always liked how they looked next to his but for some reason he feels strange because of your touch.

‘Can I see her?’ You look from Steve to Bucky, your eyes carry worry as you wipe away your tears.

‘I don’t know. She’s already met so many new people today, it might-’ Steve squeezes your hand gently and looks up at you with hopeful eyes. Eyes that she has never been able to say no to.

‘Please?’ You sigh, taking a second to collect yourself. Why did it have to be him?

‘I just need to know one thing,’ you state, not daring to look into his eyes, ‘I know you’re dating someone but if I let you meet her, will you stay in her life? Because I can’t introduce her to her dad and then tell her that she never gets to see him again. It would break her heart.’ His hand gently slips under her chin, pushing her head up slightly so she’s looking at him.

‘I promise.’ You take a deep breath and let go of his hand as you put your pinky up.

‘Pinky promise?’ A smile spreads on his face as he hooks his pinky onto hers like he had done a thousand times before. When he promised to pick her up from somewhere, when he promised he’d stay loyal to her when going out with Bucky, when he promised he’d come back to her after the war. That last one is the only one he hadn’t made true yet.

‘Pinky promise.’ You nod, a small smile on your lips as your pinky slips from his. He watches as you walk over to the staircase and disappear for a little. When you reappear, you’re carrying a little girl. Eyes as blue as his, golden locks draping over her shoulders, and a tiny stature.

‘Sarah, I want you to meet someone,’ you tell your daughter with a gentle smile, ‘this is Steve Rogers.’ You put her down in the middle of the bar, letting her choose what to do. You watch as her eyes widen at the sight of Steve. She knows of Steve Rogers. You told her about him.

As his eyes meet those of Sarah, he gets up from his chair so fast the thing falls onto the floor, scaring Sarah into hiding behind you. His eyes fill with hurt as he watches her hide and he gets on his knees to be more on eye level with Sarah.

‘But mommy, he isn’t scrawny at all.’ You let out a laugh and kneel down next to her, putting your hand on her shoulder.

‘Scrawny? Really?’ Steve bellows a soft laugh as you shrug.

‘He was really scrawny when he was younger,’ you reassure Sarah, ‘he just got bigger.’ She wraps her hands around your arm for security as she looks at him.

‘Are you so big from fighting bad guys?’ You nod vigorously at Steve in hopes that he gets the hints.

‘Yes,’ he says with a gentle smile. That seems to put Sarah’s nerves at ease a little. She takes a step away from her and a step closer to Steve.

‘Are you a soldier?’

‘I’m a captain,’ he tells her proudly. Sarah nods, pretending to understand him as she takes another step closer.

‘Are you going to stay? Because mommy told me you weren’t with us because you had to fight bad guys in the war.’

‘Well, the war is over,’ he tells her as he peeks past Sarah at you, ‘so I think I’ll stick around a while.’ Sarah takes the last few steps towards him and puts her pinky up to him.

‘Pinky promise?’ He smiles at her and hooks her pinky onto hers, marveling at the size difference of their hands. That’s his daughter. His little girl. And just behind her is her mother. You, the amazing woman that he admired from the second he laid eyes on you.

There’s nothing in this wide, wide world that could keep him away from the two of you. And as he looks back at you and watches a tear slip onto your cheek again, he knows you know too.

‘Pinky promise.’

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.2

hell yeahhhh the part 2 i’ve been dying to write. this is more angsty than i thought i’d be but there’s fluff and a smut scene (with a fem reader) so a warning that this contains adult content.

part one is here otherwise this makes no sense

side note: i don’t know how to write anything remotely sexual so i’m sorry it’s bad and poorly written ima just 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

—————————————————————————

The shock of what had happened at the bank still hadn’t settled with you the next morning after Charles had returned. Apart of you kept thinking that Micah would stroll through the front gates of Shady Belle or come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist with a coffee in hand like he does every morning. But that didn’t happen. He was really gone, what’s worse is you didn’t know how bad gone was. Was Micah stuck on some ship? Did he get captured by the Pinkertons? Or was he dead? Charles said he never actually saw them make it to the ship, only parted with them at the docks.

Fuck. The unknown was the worst part. His death you could handle (that’s a lie you’ll keep telling yourself) but not knowing whether he was okay was tormenting.

The gang, or what was left of them was in shambles ever since the bank. When Charles returned and delivered the news that young Lenny didn’t make it, everyone was left feeling heavy with despair and grief. Despite his rather sour relationship with Micah, you had a soft spot for him and more often than not took him under your wing to show him the ropes robbing coaches and being an experienced outlaw. Needless to say the gang won’t be what it was without him, but you did your best to not let it unsettle you too much.

That night while sitting by the campfire, your mind drifts to the night of the Mayor’s party. Originally, you were due to go with Micah as the latest young couple of the oiling industry and were looking to ingratiate yourselves with potential new investors. That all went out the door when Micah got himself into a bar fight over the last bottle of whiskey and there was no way Dutch was going to allow him to the party looking like some scruffy outlaw. You were both slightly upset that you didn’t get to go so instead you put on Dutch’s gramophone (he won’t miss it for one night) and slow danced together on the balcony.

His hand was placed gently on the small of your back, his other holding yours out to the side as you swayed together to the music. It was a pitiful attempt at dancing, lacking any of the real technique or proper movements but it was perfect for a couple o outlaws like yourselves. Your head was resting on his chest, taking in a deep breath and letting yourself completely relax into his embrace. It was one of the few times that you could forget about being an outlaw, about being on the run. That soft peaceful moment with your head tucked under Micah’s chin is the closest thing you’ll ever get to a redemption, and to you, that was all you could want…

You stayed by the campfire for the remaining hours of the night, replaying over and over the scene at the bank, thinking of everything that you could have done right. That night you let the guilt claw at your mind until the sun emerged from the horizon and Miss Grimshaw started ordering everyone to begin packing up the camp.

“Chin up now! I don’t need anyone slacking while we’re short of hands, help pack up the last of the boxes.”

Nodding defeatedly at Susan’s demand, you made your way over to the last remaining stack of crates carrying ammunition. Any other day you probably would have argued with her if only to cause some mischief but today you simply did not have it in you. Your body was exhausted and struggled to carry the weight of the crate until Charles came over and took the other side.

“Thank you, Charles.”

In return, Charles gave you an affirming nod, the two of you working together to help move the remaining supplies. When the final box was moved and secured, he placed a comforting hand was placed on your shoulder.

“They’re going to be fine, if they survived Blackwater then this surely won’t. Besides they have Dutch leading em the whole way.”

Charles has always been a friend to you, been there for you during the worst of it and certainly didn’t judge you for who you were. It was the same for him and the two of you would often go out hunting to get away and relax from the stress of the gang.

“He’ll be fine…”

Charles didn’t need to name him to know you were primarily concerned about one more so than the rest and while Charles certainly did not like Micah, he was a friend of yours no matter what.

~

If Micah thought the bank job couldn’t have gone any worse he’d be called a fool because boy was he wrong. Most definitely wrong.

The boat fucking sunk.

Of all the things that could have happened, something ended up catching fire and in the chaos of it all ended up on some island beach with Dutch and Bill, god knows where Arthur is in all of this. There was sand scratching his already burnt skin and the heat was sweltering, it wasn’t even midday yet and he’d already made the choice that he hated this Island.

After three days on the Island, his opinion had not changed one bit. If anything he’d say he hated it even more. The amount of wildlife was unbearable, with the disgusting insects that were everywhere and the vines which were snakes hidden in plain sight. Not to mention he’d already been in too many shootouts to count, Javier was shot and captured and Dutch was slowly slipping into insanity while running around caves and ruins running errands for people that he didn’t know.

For once, Micah was glad to take guard duty. Sure the heat was enough to give him a headache and he had to listen to Morgan cough up half his lungs each night but it was better than getting involved in some civil war between rich businessmen and the locals. All he wants is to leave this Island and be back with you.

In the dead quiet of the night, Micah is leaning against a stone pillar keeping guard. His eyes wander to the moonlight that bounces off the water and how it reminds him of your new revolver. Sure most revolvers were same bright colour but yours was black with white engravings. He had it made especially for you as a gift and when he saw your face light up with joy, it made paying for the damn thing worth every cent.

God he misses you, he hates to admit it but he so desperately wants to see you. He thinks about finally seeing you again, how you’ll probably break his nose for taking so long but he’d expect nothing less from an outlaw like you. The thought makes him chuckle to himself softly at how much he’s head over heels for you.

The next few days are a haze, he doesn’t even know who he’s fighting but there’s no time to stop and think about it as bullets whizz past him in every direction from his place on the beach. There’s a ship and a canon that leaves the building rattling with each fire of the canon ball and there’s boats of guards that chase them up the beach.

Miraculously everyone survives and Micah doesn’t stop to look at the damage left on the beach. The thought of being back with you makes the shootout worth it and he can’t wait to put that shitty Island behind him.

~

When you finally see Micah stroll into the new camp, you’re already half way over to him before he’s even off his horse. The whole way you’re rambling, borderline yelling as you practically lecture him for leaving.

“How could you be so irresponsible, running off like that! I don’t believe it! Micah do you know how fucking worried I wa-“

Micah cuts you short by wrapping your arm under you and pulls you into a long kiss. He lets out a sigh against your lips at how badly he’s missed it, how badly he’s missed you. You mirror his desperation and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer by his hair as you’re terrified to let him go.

Neither of you care that the gang is watching you two, all that matters is he’s back and you can finally stop worrying.

“Don’t you dare run off like that again…”

There’s no venom in your lecture this time and he smiles against your lips, kissing you again.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Later, when things had calmed down and everyone was waiting for Bill and Arthur to return, you snuck away with Micah to ‘scout for a potential lead’. Dutch had protested but you simply stated that there was mouth’s to feed and money to be made which seemed to do the job with only the slight warning of not causing too much trouble.

That of course would all have to wait as you made your way into the Hotel in Annesburg, slinging your coat over the door handle before making your way over to Micah who sat on the edge of the bed. You seated yourself onto his lap and brought him in for another kiss, this one much more passionate but no less gentle. His hands came up to roam over your back, finally getting to feel you after so long. He took off your gun belt and brought you closer, desperately trying to untuck your shirt from your pants as he tried to undress you without letting you go.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You chuckle at he impatient gruff he throws at you and kiss his cheek adoringly. Micah will admit to hating how sappy and loved you made him feel but deep down you both know he loves every second of it.

You stand up, moving away from him slightly to undress properly and you notice how Micah doesn’t take his eyes off you. It makes removing his own shirt rather clumsy, getting stuck on the buttons but he can’t get over how lucky he that you like him.

When all you’re both finally undressed all the way, Micah lays back down on the middle of the bed with you straddled on top of him. Usually he’s adamant on being in charge but tonight he’s happy to let you call the shots.

After what feels like hours of gentle teasing and light kisses, you finally line yourself up as he slides into you. A soft moan bubbles from your lips when Micah’s hip thrusts up reflexively, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you.

Eventually as you both find a rhythm your gentle and soft touches become more heated and demanding. Micah’s hands are grabbing your hips in the best kind of way, meeting your thrusts half way. A cocky smirk is on his face as he makes more moans and whimpers leave you.

At one point you lean down and use his hair to pull him into a bruising kiss, full of teeth and tongue. The change of angle has you moaning much louder into his mouth as his cock hits that spot that makes your stomach flare with pleasure, brining you closer to the edge. You can tell he’s not too far behind you from the way his thrusts falter slightly and are much more irregular. Not to mention the moans of his own that now accompany his groans.

“Mm Fuck Micah… Don’t you ever leave like that again.”

Micah chuckles at your attempt to lecture him again, but he can hear the serious undertone, how worried you were over him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart…”

One, two, three more thrusts later and you’re pushed over the edge. Your face is pressed into his neck as you moan his name, biting into his neck which is sure to leave a mark at such an intense orgasm. You tightening around him is enough to send him over as a soft pretty moan leaves him. It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over your own panting breath, but you did and its only reserved for you.

Once you’ve both cleaned up, you’re looking down at him with a sheet wrapped over the two of you. You’re gently brushing his hair from your face and you can’t help but smile. His soft blue eyes glow in the golden candle light, his cheeks have a slight stain of pink from the sunburn that hasn’t quite healed yet and you think he looks absolutely perfect in that moment.

“Whatcha staring at sweetheart?”

Your smile grows at the lost puppy look he has on his face and you can’t help but trace the scar that runs from his chin to his lip with your thumb.

“You… I’m staring at you dummy, because I love you.”

Micah’s eyes widen before he flips you so you’re the one underneath him, his forearms on either side of your face. He leans down and gives you a tender kiss, humming in agreement.

“Love you too.”

Micah kisses his way down your lips to your collarbone where he rests his head on your chest. Your hand comes to gently play with his hair again, something you can’t get enough of, until you both begin to fall asleep. You drift off with a small smile on your face, contempt and at peace for the first time in a long time knowing that if the two of you could survive that horrid bank job then you could survive anything else that was thrown your way.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 15, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Dripping with dust.

Notes: i have a bunch of chapters backpiled, im gonna post them all and then dip. WC: 2.6k

+

Despite everyone's attempts to keep up a faster pace, many of you lagged behind, depleted entirely of energy after the long pause. Ahkmen had grown long accustomed to the heat, but that didn't stop him from complaining as he walked beside you, his shoulders sagging.

"I told you I didn't trust Batnoam," he grumbled quietly, half hoping you wouldn't hear.

"We can be dead now if we did not go with him," you said, swatting away the flies that swarmed around your heated head, and around the camel you rode.

"You don't know that," he said.

"And you do not know we would be better with Batnoam not here," you said with a saccharine smile.

He rolled his eyes but chuckled, giving away his true feelings on the matter.

You and Ahk brought up the rear once again, and by choice, allowing you few onlookers and listeners to judge your conversations. The only person that saw you was the one lagging behind––Makko. He'd been silent since his outburst, distant in both physical and psychological terms. There was an air of shame that he carried, one that he made himself, and one he suffered the burden of. Ahkmen spared a couple glances back, but had little idea on how he could help.

"Makko!" You called, twisting around in the loaded saddle.

Makko, who was previously staring at the ground, looked up.

"You do have water?" You asked, holding up one of your last full flasks.

"I, uh..." he mumbled, his words almost entirely muted beneath the footsteps in dry, cracking earth, "ran out a little bit ago."

"Then this," you said as you screwed the cap on tight, tossing it over to him.

"Oh. Zank you," he said in a lighter tone.

Banks of sand that flowed like water turned to arid, hard earth, devoid of any life or water. Red and yellow mountains broke out of the valley plateau, blocking away the edge of the sky and the distant cities beyond. As wide as it was, it was still a valley, and thus a place that would gather sunlight like a thief gathers gold, glowing yellow dust painting every surface around him. His hands were beginning to crack open much like the earth did, dry and deep. A burning sensation was building in his nose from the amount of dust kicked up by those he followed, and there was very little water left at all amongst the caravan.

You had little more than a few bites of dinner that next night. A growling stomach bothered you through a restless sleep, grasping desperately at the body next to you as you sweated from your twitching. Ahk couldn't manage to fall asleep, so he was awake to feel you gripping his hands and shirt, muttering something in a language he didn't know.

"Yogi?" He whispered, blinking away the sand that caught on his eyelashes.

You inhaled sharply, but your eyes remained closed.

"Yogasundari, calm down," he said as he raised his hand, stroking delicate fingers over your cheek and jaw. "It's alright."

You choked on yourself for a few more seconds before the harsh breaths gave way to evenness, slowing to match his own pace. Rapid, sleeping blinks slowed as well, creating a small sense of peace within the hostile desert. Ahk sighed, removing his hand from you.

"There you are," he murmured.

He got little rest after that.

Midnight faded into heated afternoon, the empty stomach, burning eyes and skin, and thirst remaining a staple of his aching body. A massive sun burned above, shining directly in the basin of red stone and dry dust. The water in his mouth turned to sweat on the back of his neck, sticking to his head covering, and running down the back of his shirt. Even the wind brought nothing but heat––boiling them inside a metalworker's furnace.

Days and nights followed in similar fashions, attempting to bring some semblance of comfort to each other, and too exhausted to bother interacting with others. Those walking in front of you turned silent as well, and Batnoam rarely spoke outside of mutterings to himself. Open mouths wasted precious water.

Several days later, in the evening, Ahk sat in the sand, his wooden totem in one hand and his knife in the other. He looked between the two of them, his eyes dragging listlessly from one object to the other as he blinked slowly. If he burned it, he'd be able to make a fire, albeit small since there was only one bush growing in the nearest crevice. Or, you could remain in the dark, and he could give a work of art to you. He turned to you, hoping to find some sort of answer, only to see you already asleep, your hand outstretched to him.

He shifted slowly into a lying position, moving your limp body as he needed till he wrapped himself in you, breathing deeply to slow his anxious heart. His lips, once soft as rose petals, were chapped and often bleeding, even as they pressed a weak kiss to your midsection.

The first signs of civilization were scant––travellers going in the opposite direction on roads you didn't know, causing Batnoam to take a detour to the south, to where the pathways were laid out. In either way there had to be humans, a city, or a village, and even more hopefully a wealth of water and food. But the residences you found yourself in the presence of were small, poorly made, and built upon a hilltop of ruins. On the other side of the town, however, was a vast, flowing river lined with soft grasses and shady trees. You let out a laugh––probably the first one anyone in the caravan had heard in a week––and threw your hands up into the air in victory.

"We did not die!" You cried, pouncing onto Ahk with a fierce hug that nearly toppled him onto the ground.

"Shut up!" Shouted a distant voice from within the village.

Since there were no walls put up around the establishment, there were no guards to protect a particular entrance. Instead, thin streets wove around unevenly placed buildings of clay and mud, many of which had roofs with reed mats set out beside ladders and spreads of drying fruit. As you got deeper into town, a few more intricate buildings came into view. Several floors high and carved in a peculiarly African fashion, they loomed above the other buildings as towers in the vacant sky, the mark of a once booming city state. Forgotten, empty, and rotting.

The people who passed by your large group gave you odd stares, but none wanted to speak to you, which made finding a kitchen or tavern rather difficult. In the end, you all figured they probably didn't have a tavern.

You made it all the way through town and out the other side, where––to Batnoam's knowledge––the Euphrates flowed. Here, the two riverbanks weren't all that far apart, and the water ran in a steady, clear ripple over rocks and mud. The grasses and trees you saw before were now before all of you, and you grinned in relief at the feeling of grass around your feet.

Camels knelt down in the soft dirt the moment they realized they were allowed to do so, and the many travellers that made up the caravan slowly removed all their baggage and belongings. You and Ahk got yours rather quickly, and moved to the side, checking that everything was still in place and unbroken.

As you opened up your first bag, Sephys came jumping out of it, causing you to flinch backwards with your eyes squeezed shut. You sighed once you realized she hadn't hurt you. She was, however, leaving you behind, as she shambled off to the riverside.

"Will she be alright?" Ahk asked, glancing between you and the cat.

"Oh, yes, she is good," you said dismissively.

You shuffled things around in your bags a moment more, your arms stuck deep within, the brim nearly sitting around your shoulder. Afterwards you sat back, taking a deep breath as you lay down.

Ahk made way to say something, but before he could, he noted Makko coming closer, alone with his bags. Crunching footsteps brought you to sit up and recognize him, as well.

"I vanted to say thank you, for being a friend," he said in a quiet voice. "I am going north now."

"With Khawa?" Ahk asked, but Makko shook his head.

"No, I am too much of a danger to have in ze... in a trader's caravan. I do not want Shirat, or any of zem, to get hurt."

Makko looked over his shoulder to Shirat, who was discussing something with Eshai, her long, black robes fluttering in the wind.

"I know," you said softly. "I know what it is, what you are. Hunted. I... hope you are well in your travels. Here, um... take this."

You pulled out a bottle filled with a strange, almost green liquid.

"It is for wounds. A little will do a lot," you said, handing it to him. He hesitantly took it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice cracking as he bowed his head and left.

Sitting from a distance allowed you and Ahk to slowly see the caravan split into different directions, some with and some without the camels that Batnoam began to sell. Soon, there were very few people left at all, and Ahk rose to his feet, gesturing for you to do the same.

"I don't want to have to talk to Batnoam again," he muttered in your ear, "so I think we should go now before he approaches us."

You agreed with a small, but definite, nod.

The two of you hauled your bags on your shoulders and backs, trecking back into town in hopes of finding something to eat, or a place to stay, at least for the night. A much longer pause was needed, but this town didn't seem like a good place to stop and rest up. More of a 'take a breath and keep going' kind of place.

Despite that, it still was the beginning of evening, and you were both irreparably exhausted and hungry. Sick of trying to negotiate food with the inhabitants of the town––which was called Mari, according to Batnoam––you instead took up a place along the river's shore, hiding yourselves from view within thickets of soft, green leaves. There you started up the fire, while Ahk fashioned a long, wooden pike that he drove into the riverbed in search of fish. Sephys eventually made her way to you as well, joining Ahk in trying to catch a meal.

You chuckled when he swore, ripping the stick out from between lodged rocks. He nearly slipped onto his back as he did, so when he caught himself, his eyes were wide as the sky, causing you to only laugh even more.

After a while his feet began to freeze in the water, and he lugged himself up on shore devoid of any fish. In a disappointed heap he returned to you, panting as he sat down, warming his feet on your fire.

"I have no heal potion now," you said, pulling a small mixing pot out from your bag. "I need to make one."

"How'd you do that?" He asked.

"Mint, chamomile, and honey of marigolds. And tears from being sad, but I get those later, when I am sad next," you recited as you once more dug into your bag, searching through your dried herbs.

"Do marigolds grow here?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"You know more than I," you said with a shrug.

A few moments later you pulled out two leather drawstring bags, both of them fitting into the palm of your small hands. You didn't do anything with them, though––just set them beside your bag, and stood up with an empty bag at your side.

"You get fish," you said, gesturing to the river. "I do find the flower."

"I'm not sure I can," he said, a feeling of dreariness washing over him as he considered his own shortcomings.

"I know you can," you assured him as you bent down in front of him, meeting his eye with a smile before you turned and left.

He sighed deeply, willing himself to move from his spot in front of the warm fire that contrasted the cool wind coming off the river. Eventually, after staring at Sephys for far too long, he snatched his spear up from beside him and stood, wading back into the water.

When you at last convened back at the dwindling fire, you came back empty-handed, but Ahk had caught a little bit of luck. A fish large enough for the two of you cooked over the flames, attracting Sephys back to you, who batted at the spinning stick. You giggled, pushing her away so Ahk could continue slowly roasting. She returned to the river after a while of being jostled about, leaving you alone with Ahk, your hands unoccupied by the marigolds you couldn't find.

"Tired?" He asked, noting your slumped posture leaning on one hand, your eyes half-closed.

"Yes," you said with a nod. "And you are."

"Can't say you're wrong," he mumbled.

You ate in silence, digging away at the unseasoned fish with gusto unparalleled in the entirety of the past week. The mere scent of water tempted your tastebuds, so the feeling of fresh meat was more of a relief than you ever imagined it could be, even dusted with the dirt you hadn't washed your hands of. You hardly noticed, gulping down the food until nothing remained but bones. The skin, Ahk had cut earlier, before cooking it.

When you finished, you tossed the bones into a small pile near the river. Sephys sniffed the remains and curled away when she realized there wasn't any meat left, returning to sit by you. Dust and twigs scratched at your palms pressed into the ground, and when Ahkmen noticed this, he heaved himself to his feet and motioned for you to do the same.

"Why?" You asked, your head lolling to face him.

"Please," he said, and you did, picking up Sephys with you.

He laid out a blanket, the span of it stretching in a circle beside the fire. You both sat down, keeping closer together as possible, and eager to feel the softness of dirt instead of hard rock beneath you. Evenings were still rather warm, yet remained more of a comfort than anything else. A time of silent communication, speaking through fingers tracing in one another's skin, watching the fire slowly die out to feed the glowing stars above.

It wasn't long till you passed out, your head falling onto Ahk's shoulder. He simply chuckled, situating the both of you till you were both lying down, him on his back to look up at the stars, and you curled into him. Trees with their limbs and leaves blocked portions of the sky, but there still remained small pockets of sprinkled light. What was previously warm turned cold, and the ease of his heart faded into disparity as memories occurred to him, of you, of Egypt, and of Piye. How far he had roamed to follow you, and how far he sat from his home by the Nile.

That was where he belonged, wasn't it? His eyes were weary and he had little room to worry with you next to him and the journey still ahead. But in his dreams he returned to his temples, to the wealth of water and riches, and to his family, for whom he never left a note.

[okamarinosuzoki]

Afternoon nap (AiYuu)

also available on ao3 :)

Yuujirou wiped off the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand and sighed. He leaned on the hammock he had just tied to two palm trees, checking that it wouldn't fall and smiled, satisfied. He grabbed the jacket he'd left near the palm trees and went to where staff members were. The sunlight blinded him for a few seconds when he walked out of the shade but he kept walking, ignoring the stifling heat.

He wasn't supposed to be participating in the set preparations yet there he was, on the beach, the sun burning his back — it'd probably turn red soon if he didn't protect himself —, helping to set up the place they were going to use to shoot the video clip of their next song. Usually the artists were supposed to rest in the shade, avoiding a heatstroke, but an epidemic had hit most of the technicians who had been unable to get up to work.

Everyone had thought the shooting would be cancelled, but after having paid a trip to the other side of Japan, having booked the hotel and an entire beach, they couldn't just go home. They were going to shoot that video and, even if they were late, all those who could stand up were going to help. That was what the director had said and no one had dared to complain.

Which was why he was working under this blazing sun with Aizou and Sena, who had been chosen to perform with them once again. He barely avoided the girl who was running around to bring cold drinks to everyone. No one had dared to ask her to do physical work and she had decided to help in her own way.

Yuujirou frown when he noticed that Aizou was nowhere to be seen. He held an angry sigh back — if his colleague had found a way to do nothing while he had been working for hours, he'd be hearing from him.

He took a bottle of water from the cooler box and drank half of it, trying to calm down. He could see that the set was ready and they just needed to take care of the sound equipment and the lighting. They were supposed to shoot with the sunset, so he had a few hours to rest. After all this work he wasn't in the mood to rehearse the choreography that he obviously already knew by heart.

So napping it was. And Yuujirou had just put up a hammock in a shady place that was suddenly very attractive. The perfect peaceful place.

That's what he thought, until he arrived at his haven of peace. Which was already taken.

He stared at Aizou who was sleeping peacefully on his hammock.

“Are you kidding me ?” Yuujirou mumbled. He walked to Aizou who wasn't moving, ignoring the threat near him.

Yuujirou frowned and unceremoniously shook his colleague. Not a friendly awakening but they weren't even friends yet. Yes, they could stand each other, but they didn't see each other as more than colleagues, unlike what they pretended to be.

He had expected Aizou to wake up with a start, yelling at him, but he didn't move. One of his legs fell from the hammock, his feet sinking into the sand.

“Do you think I'll let you sleep peacefully here? In your dreams.” Yuujirou spat. “This hammock wasn't meant for you.” He added, the lack of answer annoying him more and more.

“I'll show you.” He threw his bottle next to a palm tree and took off his jacket, which was now useless, as the leaves protected him from the sun. He climbed onto the hammock, or rather directly on Aizou's chest, being careful not to fall. He wriggled to find a good position, not forgetting to hit Aizou with his elbows, and lied down.

If he doesn't give me back my hammock then he can suffocate to death while I'm sleeping. Yuujirou thought before closing his eyes and enjoying his well-deserved nap.

[...]

Sena shivered and tightened her jacket against her body. The sun was setting and the temperature was getting low. Her wearing a simple bikini didn't help. She couldn't wait for the shooting to be over so she could go back to the hotel...

“Sena-chan.” The director said. “It's almost time to begin, could you go look for the boys?”

“Sure!” She answered, glad to have an excuse to move instead of sitting in the cold.

She had noticed that the boys had worked all day long, they probably were resting somewhere, she thought, going where the palm trees had been projecting a fresh shade during the afternoon.

Her instincts were right as she found them there, but their position was more than surprising.

Aizou was lying down on a hammock, staring at the ocean, one of his feet in the sand, swinging them slowly, while Yuujirou was lying on his chest, sleeping. For a moment Sena didn't know what to do, before remembering that they had to go back quickly if they didn't want to miss the sunset.

She moved forward shyly until Aizou noticed her. When their eyes met, Sena blushed suddenly, as if she had witnessed something she shouldn't have seen.

“Uh, we're going to begin the shooting...” She explained when she understood that he wasn't going to speak.

Aizou nodded and he looked at Yuujirou's peaceful expression. Sena noticed that his arm was curled around Yuujirou's waist, one hand on his hip and the other one was slowly moving a strand of hair that had fallen on the other's face.

This gesture was so soft and looked so private that Sena felt out of place. She knew that her face was probably beet red and she needed to calm down if she wanted to be able to look at the boys during the shooting. Time for a strategic withdrawal.

“I... You can wake him up then!” She suddenly exclaimed. “See you.” She added and walked away quickly.

She looked back curiously before speeding up when she saw that Aizou's hand was now on Yuujirou's face.

What was that?! She thought, blushing again.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 93

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts

Summary: Alfie is never far from paranoia. But he and Genevieve both find that it's granted when it seems like the whole of London could be out to get them.

Warnings/Tags: Crime. Canon typical everything. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

There were only a handful of men in the abandoned warehouse in London this night. A location well suited, as gloomy and shady as their business practices. The cover of smog and fog from the nearby canal both serving as cover for their 'off the book' transactions. Despite their dastardly reputations, if these few men had somehow all been taken out at one time, the city would’ve plunged into bloody chaos that would lead to more trouble than already fell upon their territories.

They were a motley crew to be sure, all with twitching hands and shifty eyes. Not an ounce of trust to be found between any of them. They’d been called to this neutral ground on the guise there was a threat looming over them all. But since when wasn't there one? This desperate claim had been made by Niko, the newest head of the Greek gang who was less than a year into leading after assassinating his father. He was being met with much criticism. The decision to bring together the gangs and criminal leaders of London tonight would be met with the same disdain.

The men stood in their big coats with deep pockets, their seconds in the shadows of the dimly lit and dusty warehouse. Niko stood self-assured in his shirt with the rolled-up sleeves to show his heavy and dark forearms, hair black and slicked away from a strong masculine face. He was feeling accomplished for the ability to get all these infamous people together, and if he’s been smarter he would have actually done something with the occasion. You had the drug runners, the triads, who expected the threat to be from another country. The Sicilians who were known for their brothels thought perhaps new law enforcement might’ve been a threat to their money-making. The English boys and their known violence with the protection rackets they ran, this being their home and all, were worried about the Americans coming in and trying to disrupt the well-established lines in the sand for territories. There were bookmakers and gambling den owners, none who wanted their flows disrupted. Sabini, perhaps the most intelligent of them all had been over the race tracks for some time now, only sharing the space by negotiation or force with the Peaky boys or the Jews. And he couldn’t help but notice neither of which were at this gathering.

Sabini, looking at his pocket watch with a hard face knows Alfie wouldn’t be one to be late, and seeing as he knew the rumors of he and Nikos falling out, his suspicions were growing by the ticks of the watch hands. His faith this would be worth his while was dwindling just as quickly.

“I suppose you are the ones who are going to show...shame not everyone could hear this.” Niko begins, standing from his perched spot on a large wooden crate. “I know you have heard of a joining of powers to be happening soon. And I believe we should all take this as a threat.”

“What are the bloody Americans doin' now?” Billy Hill, one of the English roughens groans.

“No Americans.” Niko corrects and most of the men in the room go through relief and then a feeling of ‘then what?’. “One of London’s own and the French.” He begins.

Sabini groans audibly.

“I’m serious!” Niko insists with eyes that say he’s telling the truth. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that the Jew Alfie Solomons and that French whore Genevieve Durand are getting married.”

“Fucks sake.” Is the grumble of choice that works its way around the crowd.

“We can’t have her alliances and the Jews pairing! It’ll throw off the balance we’ve worked so hard to achieve!”

“And how is Solomons marrying going to affect anyone but him?” The annoyed lead of the Asian gangs calls out.

“This Durand is no ordinary woman.” Niko compulsorily insists.

“Yeah, we know you’re sweet on her.” Sabini mutters.

“This is about her French connections. Parliament, the gypsies, and the Irish! All of them will be with Solomons and not against him now because of her.”

“Look. She’s the godmother of a Shelby baby. That hardly calls for panic. She’s the niece of a French Jew, who has NO footing here. Those are not alliances. You’re acting like a bloody woman, so dramatic.” Sabini purses his lips.

“We all know what Horne did to her.” Billy interjects. “If you think she’s a threat after a wallop like that you’re mad. Alfies the one ya gotta watch for, and you know those Jews, they get all sentimental about their wives. This could work in our favor if he’s gone soft for the bird.”

“I do not think underselling Solomons is a good move. You saw what he did to Horne.” The Asian lead reminds them.

“That shows how unstable he is!” Niko yells.

“Well he didn’t kill his own father now did he?” One of the bookmakers snarks.

“Everyone agreed to that!” Niko shouts, his anger showing at not getting his way.

“Yeah and I think everyone’s agreeing that we don’t give a fuck about the hard prick you’ve got for Solomons woman and how you want us to the dirty work to take him out of the picture.” Billy’s known brash remarks surprise no one.

“That’s not what this is about. She’ll be trouble! I'm telling you. She’s a sly one. Don’t underestimate her. She could be a loose cannon and telling Solomons what to do, and with the men she’s got behind her she could try to take over the city!”

Everyone but Niko laughs. “Her? Telling ALFIE what to do?” Sabini laughs and wipes away an imaginary tear to sell his point. “You daft boy, listen… she’s a woman yeah? She’s gonna get married and shit out a few little kykes and fall into place. Same as the rest. It’s what they DO.”

“She’s not like other women.” Niko growls.

“We know you’re sore about losin' her to a old man like Solomons, yeah?”

“Maybe she prefers the cut cocks.” Someone remarks and a chuckle passes through the group.

“More like the money.” Another adds and a general nod of agreement moves in a wave across the room.

“LISTEN!” Niko shouts in anger. “I think this marriage is a bad idea. She’s been knocked senseless, attacking people in public, and we know Solomons can be unpredictable. Look what he did to Horne!?”

“A man’s love and loyalty to a woman is fueled by an ancient fire. He was within his right to do that.”

“As poetic as that is,” Sabini rolls his eyes “I’ve known Alfie longer than any of you. And if I say there’s no reason to react then there’s not.” He states clearly with the wheels in his head turning his unspoken thoughts.

“He burned down half the city for that woman. He threw a tantrum like a child and bypassed so many of our unspoken rules in the name revenge.” Niko screeches.

“Like you now, yeah?” Sabini snarks. “You have no business with either of them now. Because YOU threw a fit? Remember?” Niko puffs up in shame. “Why do you care? Why are you wasting our time?” Sabini gestures with his hands and gives Niko a disgusted expression for bringing them there “If ya gonna call us all up, Why not talk about the upcoming elections? Or how they're clearing out the slums and breaking up all our established territories?” The reaction from the group is a unanimous groan of agreement. “Those are real fuckin’ things to worry about. If you’re so concerned about women in power why not go after the fucking labour party too?” Sabine’s experience overrides Niko and his barely thought out objections.

The group laughs and makes Niko feel small and childish. A feeling he hated as the youngest son and one he hadn’t felt since his father died. It did him and no one else any favors to light that pain within him again. For it was the one that lead him to kill the last man who caused it. But now that he had the attention of the entire family. ho knows how he would lash out next time he reached his breaking point?

For as crass and disrespectful as Sabini was, he wasn’t the dumbest criminal in London by a long shot. He’d thought about what Niko said after patronizing him in front of everyone. Even though he didn’t agree, he did have a few points of sense that he hadn’t meant to make. Alfie would be having to change up his repertoire. He had Shelby in Parliament and an uncle in law that was the head of a crime family. Albeit was in France, but clout was clout and bodies were bodies when fighting broke out. Sabini didn’t think Gen would be a problem, as he had heard of her seriousness with her newly found Judaism and expected her to be a good little wife and let her husband rule the roost. But Sabini only knew of the slurs and stereotypes for the Jewish people, not so much their beliefs. Because if he had, he’d know what sort of power, Gen, as the wife would hold in their household. Instead, he saw an opportunity to mend things with Alfie. A peace offering for the joyous occasion so it wouldn’t seem suspicious. As he had said, he knew Alfie. He knew what he was capable of and what a pain in the arse he could be. He’d like to make things easier, not harder so he knows it’s time to make a truce, to show him he wasn’t a threat. Sabini knew it was time to reach out to an old school mate. Because he most certainly didn’t want Alfie Solomons on his bad side.

———

Genevieve’s giggle could be heard from the other side of her bedroom door. The raised hand to knock hesitates.

“Do I have to do it?” The young boy winces, fearing interrupting Solomons during his time with his fiancé.

“Oh fucking-c’mon!” Claire gruffs and shoves him out of the way. “Gen? Alfie? Pardon the interruption but we have some little birds with news out here.

The groan of Alfie can be heard, rolling to his back and throwing his arm dramatically. “WOT THEY WANT?” He shouts as Gen pops out of bed to throw his pants at him and slide on a gown before slinking back into bed. “WHO is it?” He asks quickly after.

“One of yours and one of Genevieve’s.”

“Both?” She hears the women in question ask.

“Come in.” Alfie commands, now sitting up with the covers pulled up under his arms.

“Go on.” Claire shoves the two young boys into the room who feel immediately as if they were trespassing. She stands in the doorway so they cannot leave and watches them creep forward.

“Ya gonna speak or what?” Alfie asks with a jut of his chin.

“Yes sir.” The taller of the two mumbles as he steps forward.

“Come to the foot of the bed and speak up.” Genevieve directs with much more kindness in her tone, directing them with a pointed finger.

“Yes ma’am.” The boy keeps his eyes lowered, his hat being wrung in his hands, a clear ring of sweat around his collar. “Who first?”

“You dear, you’ve been employed the longest,” She explains to Alfie's nervous spy. “Seniority.” She nods.

“Yes ma’am. There was news of a meeting last night.”

After a pause, Alfie makes a rolling motion with his hand. “Anything else to go wif that to make it useful?”

“Downtown they saw some men meeting in one of the old warehouses.”

“Some men?” Genevieve tries to get more out of the boy.

“Gangsters, ma’am.”

“Mmmph. And who?”

“Only person I was told the Greeks.”

“Fuckin ell.” Alfie sighs. “That all ya got?”

“Yes sir.”

“I have more.” The smaller of the two adds sheepishly.

“Then out wif it.” Alfie demands loudly.

“The Greek was there first, then some of the English Hill lads and the bookmaker Comer. Triads, Sabini, and the other Italians.”

“Now that’s the kinda report I need yeah?” Alfie says in a fatherly tone to his informer.

“Is that all?” Genevieve pries a final time.

“No one was inside to hear what was said but no shots or shoutin' and it was over very quickly. No one we knew was there.”

Alfie hums with narrowed eyes in thought. “What of the fascists?”

“No political men, only the kind what run the streets like you, sir.”

“Good lad.” He nods in approval.

“Claire pay them their due.” Genevieve points her way. “Leave with her boys, thank you.”

“Give the missus boy more,” Alfie calls out and the young one's eyes blink with surprise. “We reward detail. Leave nothing to interpretation when ya can lads.”

“Yes sir.” In unison comes from the shabby pair.

After the door is shut behind them the minds of the two business owners are piecing together what they had.

“Of course I wasn’t invited to this but I’m assuming you weren’t as well?”

“No,” Alfie says with a slow shake of his head. “No Jews at all actually.”

“But no fascists. Curious.”

“Not about us then.”

“Not as a whole, no. But Niko…”

“Yeah that... fuckers up to somefin.”

“I’ll keep an ear out, poke around at my retailers today.”

“Good, good. I know I can lean heavily on paranoia…”

“It’s kept you alive this long.” Genevieve smirks. “Listen to your gut, always.”

“But no one you run wif was there. None of ours. Leads one to believe this might be personal, yeah?”

“I do agree. We know the man isn’t happy about us. Now we're being left out and those with known loyalty to us are as well. I don’t believe that to be paranoia so much as putting together a bigger picture. Perhaps you could ask-“

“Sabini, yeah.” He finishes her thought.

“Mmm Hmm. He’s been behaving as of late. Due for another check-in I’d say.”

“And I’d say you’re right.”

———————-

Sabini happened to have reached out to Solomons for a meeting before Alfie had the chance to initiate. Alfie knew this meant one of two things, that Sabini needed him, or he needed Sabini. Or perhaps a third option of both? Alfie was prepared for all outcomes as he prided himself in.

For anyone else the smugness on Derby’s face, set to its usual twitch of him acting as if he’d smelled shit, would’ve been an indicator of which option was on the table for discussion. But this observation was useless against someone like Sabini. He didn’t give himself away until you dug in close and arrogance was his base nature.

He waltzed in like some greyscale silent film star with shiny shoes and a coat draped over his shoulders. His appearance next to Alfie gives nothing away that they were both raised in the same streets as the learned posh facade Sabini had long practiced to appear authentic. Alfie even has the passing thought of observing Sabini’s practiced measures of sitting down to be a tad too feminine at this point but that was neither here nor there, he supposes.

Alfie’s nose twitches both from his business mate’s luxury cologne and his impatience for the small talk. He was only interested in faux comradery if he could benefit from it. Sabini was lamenting on the state of the cabinet, the changes, and the way the kids no longer remembered the war and it was leading in directions he didn’t particularly care for. Perhaps it was an attempt to be personable, but Alfie had no time for such things when it came to someone who he’d known since before his balls dropped.

Alfie perks up his demeanor, hands flat and wide on his old wooden desk, dust unsettling as he hit heavily against the top. “Now DERBY… “He clears his throat, lips pooching out ever so slightly to appear in thought, but it was clearly making a mockery of the behavior of Sabini. “We could, y’know, sit and listen to you talk out ya arse ‘bout shit no one gives a FUCK about.” he blinks rapidly and nods his head with his low brow directed at his associate. “Or we could just skip it, the gossipin’ like the birds ‘n that, and get down to business. Like men.” his tongue punctuates against his teeth to show through his deepened voice that he meant what he said. In case Derby had forgotten.

“Now for what it’s worth, your precision is something I always did like about you Alfie.”

“Compliments ain’t like you now, Derby, old friend. Should I pull me cock out for those sweet words or do you want to get to your fucking point?”

With a slight wince of his lips, Sabini takes a deep breath to crispen his delivery. “I am here as a show of good faith, right? I have some information that you need and I want to discuss how this might affect us in the future.”

“Us?” Alfie laughs and sits back in his chair with a smug grin. “Presumptuous, innit?”

“Yes. Us, Alfie.” Sabini states with the annoyance already showing through in his voice.

“Go on then.” a demanding hand motions forth from the leather chair.

“The Greeks are trying to upset the truces.”

“Ahhh.” Alfie groans. “Always the fuckin’ Greeks, yeah? If not then it’s the Italians.” he jokes.

Sabini chose to ignore the jab. “I have the information you want. But I need something from you in return.”

“How do you know I need it? How do you know, yeah? That I don’t already know?” Alfie's lip curled up almost in an almost childish taunt.

“Because you aren’t reaching out to anyone. You’d be doing damage control if you knew. Gettin’ all the little ducks in a row to keep everyone in line.”

“You are being rather bold, y’know, there mate... Don’t much care for it to be honest. Arrogance, innit? Which means, you tellin' me how you think I fuckin’ run things, which you can fuck RIGHT OFF with, mate, respectively, I mean that Derby old mate… THAT indiscretion leads me to believe, yeah? That you do genuinely think that the information you have is valuable.” he taps the desk in front of him to demand the information with not only his words. “So what is it that you think is so important that you’d come down here to mingle among us… dirty dust bin lids, I believe is what you call us.

“I need something from you in return.”

Alfie throws his hands up half way, “Let me ask you this Derby, in all seriousness now lad, Are you thick? Are you lame? NO! No, listen ‘cause that statement was something an imbecile would say to a man like me.”

Sabini sighs and rolls his eyes, “Me ‘n you go way back Alfie. We’ve been enemies, and we’ve been friends. And isn’t it much better when we’re friends?”

“Oh yeah, mate.”

“I need us to be on the same side here. We grew up together. Immigrant lads and the like. We know war, we know the streets, we have an advantage here as a pair and I want to propose we work together instead of apart for the foreseeable future.”

“Mmm.” is Alfie’s only response. Best you stay silent and let the other man do the talking.

“Can you agree to that? We can do it formally, with your contracts and that. I know how your lot loves to have documentation of everything.”

“Can ya fuckin’ blame us? What with whats’ goin’ on out there?”

“That’s why we need to work together.”

“How’s about you tell me what this information is and I will tell you if it’s worth me workin’ with a man like you? You Italians aren’t known for your inclusivity ya daft fascists.”

“Alfie.” Sabini groans. “You know I'm not that stupid and I know you aren’t either. Let’s move past this yeah? I’m English, I don’t live in bloody Italy, my parents don’t live there, I work with what’s in front of me don’t I? Not with my head in some other fuckin’ country. Give me a bit of credit here, I'm not some amateur.”

“A truce?” Alfie quickly switches the conversation direction in a show of understanding.

“Yes.” An exasperated Sabini spits out.

“What terms?” Alfie asks with a rather dainty placement of his gold spectacles and a lick of his pen.

“We share the tracks. I can give you more races to share if you agree to not come for me or my men. We won’t cross on each other territories of businesses. No fighting over pubs and theatres. We’d have each other's backs, like the good old days.”

“Good old days.” Alfie snorts as keeps writing. “I get one race a month of my own. Share the rest.”

“Fine.”

“NO crossing territories, no murderin’, no fightin’.” Alfie repeats, with a mumble as it’s the least of his worries.

“Agreed.”

“And the giving of men for circumstances of attack and revenge on other groups if the situation arises.”

“Acceptable.”

“Then sign here,” Alfie says with a satisfied expression. “You must be in a right spot, mate. Givin’ up this.”

“It’s an investment.”

“Mmm.” Alfie hums and shakes the paper to dry the ink. “Now. This information…”

“There was a meeting-”

“Remember when I said I knew things…?”

“Let me bloody talk now. We get it you KNOW things, Alfie.” he interjects with an annoyed wave of his hand. “What you might not know is that Niko tried to gather the lot of us from all of London and turn us on you.”

“Mmm.” another sound of acknowledgment that meant nothing.

“He doesn’t trust you or your bride to be. Congratulations by the way.”

“Thank you.” he nods gracefully.

“We all know he’s after her, yeah? But he wants us to believe she’ll turn you against everyone and try to take us all down one by one. Which after your reaction to Horne, almost all of us aren’t sure what the fuck to think about you.”

“Couldn’t possibly have been intentional.”

“I wanted a truce because I don’t want you coming at me how you did Horne. A new war between us will do nothing but lead to problems I don't fucking have time for anymore. Not with how the worlds changing and us getting older.”

“Yeah, I feel it in my legs mostly...” Alfie groans.

“Niko is going to come for you. I believe you need to set up a meeting of your own and address him and, well bloody almost everyone else. It might help, might not. But at least then when faced with you and not behind your back you might see what sort of man Niko has turned into after taking over.”

“Never was much of one to begin with.” Alfie rolls his eyes.

“No, which makes him behave like a child and thus not act according to the truces that are set in place.”

“Yeah yeah.” Alfie nods. “There needs to be somethin’ said. Can’t have the little wanker goin’ round runnin’ his fuckin’ mouth bout me. OR my wife. “

“All this over a fucking woman.” Sabini groans.

Alfie points a ringed and aggressive finger his way. “You can’t be talking about her either, yeah? That’ll break this little agreement faster than I could put a bullet in your fuckin’ skull, right?”

“I'm not. Nothing personal just… he’s acting like a little boy. I know marriage is important to you Jews.”

“Always the tasteful one, Derby.”

“You know what I fuckin’ mean.”

“Unfortunately I do speak prick.”

“Alfie, I’m not after you or your wife. In any capacity. How I talk is just how I talk, yeah? I don't mean nothin’ by it, it’s just how I am. How we grew up. And I know you. We know each other right? And I would rather work with the devil I know than the devil I don’t. And that’d be you. Especially after what you did to Horne.”

“Mmph.” Alfie nods. “Spose that checks out.”

“I was impressed, I’ll admit. We haven’t seen a retaliation wipe out a whole enterprise like that in decades.”

“And I’d dig him up, skull fuck him and set him on fire if I could. Salt the fuckin’ earth wherever his feet touched.” Alfie's eyes are familiar darkness to Sabini. He’d expected as much from him after seeing the ash fall from the city skyline line it was snow from the destruction Alfie orchestrated. “I don’t blame you for not wantin’ me on your bad side. I know they say we’re both crazy now.”

“But see...I know neither of you are.”

“And that’s why we’ve not killed you yet, mate. Every now and then, you use your brain. ”

@jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbirdd @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​

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[ltleflrt]

Feels Like Home Ch 1 - Destiel Version

Small towns are quiet.  No cars, very few voices unless one visits the Roadhouse around mealtimes and at sundown when it converts from a diner to the local watering hole.  Sometimes the loudest thing a person hears all day is the buzz of electricity, or the hiss of wind kicking sand up against walls.

That’s what Dean loves about Lebanon Kansas.  At least now he does.  When he was a kid, he’d hated the small town he grew up in.  It was too small, barely a wide spot in the road, and he wanted to be part of the bigger world.  But after years in the army, and visiting many strange and exotic locations during his service, he came home.  The world is too big and too loud sometimes, and Lebanon’s small town silence is exactly what he needs right now.

So the sudden clang of tools is jarring enough to bring his head up to see what the hell is going on.  Unfortunately, he’s reminded rather painfully that he’s under the hood of a car when the back of his head connects with it.

Rubbing at the sore spot, Dean extricates himself a little more carefully from the car he’s working on and straightens to see what all the racket is about.  From the grumbling and cursing coming from the direction of the workbench at the back of the shop, he has an idea.

Confirming his suspicions, Jo is somewhat violently putting away tools, bitching and growling too low for him to catch any words.  Hoping he’s not the current target of her ire, he cautiously makes his way toward the back of the shop.

“Hey, I appreciate your sudden zeal for order,” he says dryly as he watches her throw a wrench into a drawer.  It nearly bounces right back out.  “But if you break it, you buy it.”

Jo spins around and pins him with her glare.  She has another, larger wrench clenched in her fist, and she brandishes it at him.  “These tools are made of fucking steel,” she snaps.  “I’m sure they’ll be fine!”

She looks pissed enough to bite through one of them, but he’s not dumb enough to tell her that.  Showing no fear in the face of her bark but no bite attitude, he pulls a rag out of his back pocket and attempts to clean some of the oile off his hands.  He eyes Jo for a moment before his eyes drift to the clock on the wall behind her.  It’s late afternoon already, and his stomach growls to remind him that he hasn’t eaten since far too early in the morning.  “You want to go to the Roadhouse and get something to eat?” he asks as if Jo isn’t seething with anger in front of him.

He isn’t surprised when she nearly explodes at the suggestion.  “No, I don’t want to go to the goddamn Roadhouse.  I just came from the goddamn Roadhouse, and now my appetite is ruined!”

“My treat,” he offers, ignoring her outburst.

“Are you deaf?” Jo demands.  “Why the hell would I want to go back there?”

Giving up on getting his hands any cleaner without some harsh soap, Dean tucks the rag back in his pocket.  Completely unafraid of Jo’s temper, and the heavy tool-slash-weapon in her hand, he steps close and slings an arm over her shoulder.  He takes the wrench, twisting until it slips out of her white-knucked grip, and sets it on the bench before guiding her out of the garage and into the afternoon sunlight.  “If you don’t go back, she’ll gloat about being right,” Dean says as a blast of heat hits him.  He’s already sweaty from working in the garage all morning, but being out of the shade only feels a hair cooler than the surface of the sun at the moment.

“She’s not,” Jo grumbles under her breath.  But her spine straightens and she shrugs out from under his arm to march ahead of him.

Dean grins after her, admiring the way the sun glints off her golden curls in an almost angelic fashion.  The little spitfire definitely reminds him much more of a demon the rest of the time.  A hot breeze sets him in motion again quickly though, and he hurries after her toward the air conditioned interior of the Roadhouse.

As Jo slams through the Roadhouse’s door, the bell clangs loudly to announce her, and he catches it before it swings shut, sighing in relief as cool air envelops him.  He wonders what Jo and her mother are fighting about today, but knows better than to ask.  Especially not within Ellen’s earshot.  He can handle Jo’s temper.  On a good day he can handle Ellen’s temper.  He’s not stupid enough to think he can ever handle them both at once.

Jo climbs onto a stool and pulls out a menu.  She glares at it sullenly, as if she doesn’t have the whole thing memorized forward and back.

“Heya Deano!” Ash calls from behind the counter.  His lazy grin doesn’t falter when he turns it on Jo, even when she tries to burn holes into him with her eyes.  “Hey there Joanna.  Back for revenge?”

Jo only glares harder for a moment before putting him on ignore.

“Hey Ash,” Dean greets cheerfully as he settles onto a stool next to Jo.

“The usual, buddy?” Ash asks.  His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he just rolled out of bed, but there’s a sharp mind behind that stoner facade.  For the umpteenth time, Dean wonders why the hell he’s hanging around Lebanon and not off working for the CIA or some other shady organization.

It’s not worth thinking about too hard though, because he’ll never know the real answer.  Ash likes to play up the mystery, and Dean wouldn’t know the truth if he heard it at this point.  Instead he turns his attention to filling his empty stomach.  Pie sings its siren song from under the glass dome at the end of the counter, but even with the A/C cranked up, Dean’s still feeling overly warm.  “How ‘bout the usual plus a chocolate milkshake?

“With or without the wakeup?” 

“With.”

Ash taps his knuckles on the counter.  “You got it, Deano.”  He turns and starts working his magic with the shake mixers behind the bar, and calls through the window that opens into the kitchen.  “Hey Benny, make Dean a burger.”

A head pops into view through the serving window, and Benny gives Dean a lazy salute.  “Hey, brother,” he greets warmly.  “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Dean returns the salute and nods.  He turns to his prickly neighbor.  “You want anything, Jo?”

“Coffee,” she snaps.

A long sigh comes from the other end of the bar from where Ash is working his magic, and Ellen grabs the pot and carries it over to them.  She pours a cup for Jo without a word, then walks away.

Dean resists rolling his eyes where mother or daughter can see him.  He’s not angling for a slap upside the head, just lunch.

With a flourish, Ash whirls around and presents him with his shake, distracting Dean from the silent war going on next to him.  He takes a long pull off the straw, and sighs happily at the chocolaty coffee flavor.  “Thanks, man.  That hits the spot.”

“Yeah, it’s damn hot out there today, ain’t it?”

They chat about the weather, even though it barely changes at this time of the year.  But soon Benny’s pushing a heaping plate through the serving window and calling “Chow’s up!”

The burger is perfect.  Juicy, and piled with onions, just the way Dean likes it.  He digs in, groaning at the tang of sharp cheddar, and licking grease from his lips.  Jo glares at him with disgust, and turns slightly away from him.

By the time he’s finished the burger and is contemplating how many fries he can manage while still finishing his shake, Ellen and Jo have defrosted and are talking softly while he pretends not to hear them apologizing to each other.  Ash is singing off key to the radio as he fills the salt and pepper shakers, and muted clangs and clunks from the kitchen keep him aware of Benny’s presence in the kitchn.

It’s peaceful.  It’s the reason he moved back.  The quiet and peace of Lebanon keep the nightmares at bay.

But he still startles easily, so when Jo digs her elbow into his ribs it’s only through supreme effort that he doesn’t try to attack her.  She notices his aborted movement and raises an eyebrow at him, fully aware of what almost happened but not impressed.  But she doesn’t say anything about it, instead tilting her head toward the wall of windows to their right.

“Hey look,” she says, just as he registers the loud rumble of an engine outside, “someone got lost.”

Dean turns to see a motorcycle pulling up to the Roadhouse.  Gravel dust rises around the stranger as he comes to a stop, and the music from Ash’s radio seems extra loud when the bike’s engine shuts off.  Dean’s eyes trace over the man’s wide shoulders under a black leather jacket as the guy reaches up and pulls off his equally dark helmet.  Mesmerized, he follows the guy’s movements as he reaches up and runs fingers through the tousled dark brown hair revealed by the helmet’s removal.

This time when Jo elbows him he doesn’t jump at all, but it’s a reminder to breathe.  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and turns his attention to her, plastering an innocent look on his face and hoping she didn’t see his reaction.  Of course he’s not that lucky, and he stifles a groan at the wicket glint in her eyes.  “Don’t,” he warns.

Jo shows him her teeth, more of a challenge than a smile.  Behind them the bell rings over the door as the stranger walks in.

As one, he and Jo turn to see the newcomer.

The guy stops just inside the door, and smiles shyly at the sudden attention he’s receiving.  “Hello,” he says with a nod of greeting before walking toward a booth near the window.s

Dean takes the greeting like a punch to the gut.  The guy is hot.  Smoking hot.  With traces of gray at his temples and a little salt in his not-quite-a-beard.  A beautiful mouth, and god those eyes.  Dark, maybe blue, and Dean itches to get close enough to find out for sure.  And the man’s voice, fuck.  Like a shot of whiskey, going straight to Dean’s head.

A little too quickly to appear casual, he turns back to the counter and looks down at the food left on his plate.  What the hell is wrong with him?  He’s seen plenty of hot men before.  Hell, he just has to look up and see Benny in the kitchen to find one.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ellen take the man’s order.  He catches himself leaning slightly in that direction in an effort to hear the man’s voice again and immediately straightens in his seat.  He stuffs a couple fries in his mouth and chews despite the fact that he can’t really taste them anymore. 

“Quit being a pussy and go talk to him,” Jo says, thankfully in a low voice that only carries to him.

“What the hell would I talk to him about?” Dean whispers back.

“You could start with an offer for a handjob,” Jo answers.  When Dean chokes, she smirks and pounds him on the back, and continues as if she hadn’t nearly killed him.  “Come on, it’s a great way to find out if he likes dick.”

Once his windpipe is clear he turns a glare on her.  “I like dick, but if a dude started a conversation with that, I wouldn’t be impressed.”

“That’s because you suck at getting with guys,” Ash says, leaning close to join in on the conversation.  “Want me to be your wingman, buddy?”

“No thanks, Ash,” Dean says dryly.  “Not sure you’d be that much help.”

“I could do it,” Jo offers brightly.

“Yeah, no. That’d be worse.”

Jo punches him in the arm, and he glares at her as he rubs the aching spot.  Which is a tactical error, because of course she takes it as a challenge.  She gives him a downright evil smile, and slides off her stool, shimmying away from his grasping hands so he can’t prevent the disaster about to happen.  She practically bounces across the hardwood floors, and plunks down on the bench opposite of the stranger.

Dean groans.  This cannot possibly go well for him.

This is actually a rewrite of chapter 1 of my most popular Mass Effect Fic, Feels Like Home.  I don’t know why I feel like doing this, but I do, so here we are.

[marjiandco]

beach day

Raiku shakes off the teleportation spell, waiting until the nausea dies down. He clutches his basket close to his body, standing on tiptoes to keep the blanket wedged on top from dragging in the sand. His sandals land in in muffled thuds as he flips his head back to keep his sunglasses from falling off his nose. Sweat was already beading down his neck, the rising sun warmer still than yesterday’s. Salty wafts of wind tickle his nose, and he closes his eyes for a moment. Waves push and pull to his right, the sounds of people either in the water or talking along the pier mix in with the whistle of air. He  sighs in contentment.

For the first time in a long time he fees like his old self again. Before he ever knew of Zenos, of Garlean invasion plans or seven hells even the Ascians have been a royal thorn in his side. That didn’t matter now; what matters is finding his friends so he can put on some sun lotion asap. Gulls caw above him as he traverses his way through beach goers, scanning the area when he spots his best friend. He chuckles to himself. She’s lounging beneath an umbrella, a large sunhat dousing her in even more shadow, with a pair of sunglasses for good measure. Seems she’s feeling about the same as him.

“Hey Marj!” he shouts.

She jerks her head towards him, her frown turning into a quirked grin. She dusts her feet, as if she wasn’t about to walk through more sand as she rushes to scoop the basket out of his hands. He gives a breathy thanks as they walk side by side to their shady spot. He eyes her bathing suit, feeling a strange sense of pride. She’s not wearing socks or pants to cover up the spider webbed scar on her leg; a long ways away from where she was close to a year ago. She was even wearing a two piece bathing suit, her scars near glowing white in the sun.

“I see you’ve upgraded your beachwear. Don’t feel like wading in wet socks this time?” he tries to frown through a smirk building on his cheeks. “It was a fashion choice.” She said matter of factly. “It didn’t catch on as much as I’d hoped.”

He laughs as she sets the basket down, and together they pull the new blanket down next to hers, creating a wider space. As it settles he takes his guitar out from the basket, placing it at the top of the blanket, exaggerating his carefulness. He plops down, legs spread wide and slouches forward as he takes a deep inhaling stretch. He faces the sun and closes his eyes, drinking in the peace. He opens his eyes after a few minutes, catching her staring at him.

“You know you could use a tan.” He leans back on his palms, fingers brushing his instrument.

She snorts, stretching one arm overhead and resting another on her stomach. “I don’t tan I burn. Besides they say you can still feel the sun even in the shade.”

“Who said?”

“You know” she waves a hand. “They.”

Right. "Think the other's will be here soon? I want to go swimming sometime today."

She points to the left of them. The twins seem to have roped themselves into a game of volleyball. Alisae of course was taking it very seriously, snapping at Alphinaud when he makes a bad call or misses a hit. Hard pass.

“They’re the only one’s here besides us.” Marji said “Thancred and Urianger went shell collecting with Ryne, and Y’shtola went to go get some more water and oranges. I thought Tataru was coming with you?”

“Nah, she’s busy convincing Estinien to show up.” Raiku shrugs “I guess I’ll just have to sit here with you.” He falls dramatically, digging his toes into the sand as he takes his guitar in hand to strum a few notes.

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adding this to my ao3 drabble collection I’m starting, and just wanted to get excited about beach weather/actually being able to go to the beach this year!

Thanks for reading.