#clyde logan / reader

[hauntingoldhouses]

I know your wife, and she wouldn't mind🍾

[kylosjuul]

Kylo Ren NSFW Alphabet (reupload)

a/n: i posted this last year and here it is again! if ur expecting kylo to be a dom don’t read this. Also, this is AFAB!reader.

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kylo has never had anybody to cherish like this, to hold. So you best believe after sex, he’s planting soft kisses across your face and lips trying to show how lucky he feels to have you; that you gave this gift of intimacy to him. It’s all soft touches and cuddles (fight me on this). He looks at you with a sense of longing, to have this feeling forever. He’ll hold your hand over his heart while you fall asleep on his chest, for it only beats for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything about your body has Kylo red in the face, but he finds his eyes trailing to your thighs and your ass often. Your uniform clings to them tightly, and he feels guilty about how quick his blood pools to his thighs, constantly readjusting his leather pants when you bend down or “accidentally” brush against him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Okay, listen. Kylo has never had any sexual experience so you BEST believe he cums a lot. And hard. Borderline hyperspermia. He’s just so sensitive and you just feel too good wrapped around him. Expect rope after rope of thick cum coating your walls, spilling out of you and down your thighs :D

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You make him hard. A lot. He feels so perverted, especially in the beginnings of your relationship. The soft floral notes of your perfume made his pants constrict, the sweet smell making him dizzy. Every kiss, every brush of your fingers=boner. He was embarrassed. The worst part is the wet dreams. Oh. The dreams. Kylo’s mind would drift to images of you kissing him, sitting on top of him, the warmth between your legs remedying the pressure building in his hips; but he would wake up every time, hard as a rock, spilling into his sleep pants panting your name. Yeah.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Absolute virg. Never even kissed a girl before. The first time you climbed on top of him and started trailing kisses down his neck, he was 100% whipped, almost finishing in his uniform as you rocked against his length. He knew he couldn’t give this up, couldn’t give YOU up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

A bit simple, but this man lovesss missionary. He gets off when your face twists up in pleasure, knowing he’s the one providing it to you. Plus, he can hear each moan, each sharp intake of breath; Between your face drenched in lust, your sweet sounds, and your tits bouncing with each thrust, this position makes him cum the hardest. (Besides you on top. He’ll dig his fingers into your hips watching himself disappear inside you over and over. yum).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I’d say Kylo is serious during the deed. He just loves you so much and wants to worship you with every bit of intimacy he has in him. Large calloused palms smoothing back your hair, plush lips sucking on your collarbone, all of it.

“You’re so beautiful. My sweet girl…”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He isn’t the hairiest man in the galaxy, but he does have a bit of hair down south. Nothing too extreme though. Kylo is very hygienic and well groomed, nothing to worry about here!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

THE MOST INTIMATE. You can see in his eyes how he feels he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve your soft body beneath him. He treats you as if you’ll break, as if you’re the most precious being in the universe. Constantly asking if you’re okay, or, “Does this feel good?” He loves to serve you. To pleasure you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As aforementioned, Kylo can’t help how hard he is around you 24/7. If he knows he’s going to see you, he’ll tuck himself away into his refresher and think of your figure, your eyes looking up at him, (that REALLY makes him cum fast) and stroke his cock with a punishing pace, imagining you slamming down on his hips. He feels a tinge of shame as he grits his teeth and releases his load onto the refresher door.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. He feels his thighs go weak when you drag your fingers through his hair and call him a “good boy.” He’ll look up at you through heavy lids, a silent plea for more soft touches and appraisals. Also, eye contact. If you ever want anything from him, just look up at his through your eyelashes and he’ll blush like a madman, giving you whatever it is you crave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a very private person and extremely jealous, so he prefers to fuck you in your shared quarters. Nowhere else. Okay, maybe in his TIE, but that’s only when you beg him so sweetly; and who is he not to give his girl whatever she wants?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yes. Just yes. A kiss that lingers a second too long, his name on your lips (in any context), your soft hand following the curve of his jaw. He’s a goner. If you want to torture the man, wear a low cut top around him, he’ll be desperately grabbing at your hips in no time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving someone else. He’s a jealous, jealous man. All these fics about him sharing you with the KOR….girl. A big no no is anything related to degradation. Attention all Kylo writers! He would never even DREAM of calling you names or hurting you in any way. You’re his precious girl and he just loves you so so much:(

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Virgin, remember? The first time you sucked his cock, he’s was a panting mess, brows furrowed, low moans punched from his chest, finishing in your mouth in under a minute. After a few times together, you guided him on how to eat pussy, and he definitely prefers watching your hips rock up into his face, coming undone from his warm tongue. (Kylo will never admit this, but while he was eating you out he rocked against the mattress like a rabid dog, cumming all over his stomach, a pool of his spend spreading over the sheets. Yeah, he prefers giving).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on how much time you’ve spent apart. If he hasn’t seen you for a week, (missions, supreme leader shit) he’ll fuck into you with a strong and punishing pace, still careful not to hurt you, though. If it’s a normal day, he’ll slowly rock into you, dragging his cock along your walls in a sensual way, but you usually beg him to speed up, pushing you further and further up the mattress.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kylo is a simp. He will take whatever you so kindly gift him with. You get to fuck your man whenever you so please. He gives it to you no matter the time. Day or night. He’s just so excited there’s a GIRL who wants him, his cock, this badly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nah. Not really. He’d rather savor the sex, instead of constantly looking over his shoulder. But if you drag him into a storage closet aboard and start massaging him through his leather, who is he to say no?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hate to burst any bubbles here, but he’s completely inexperienced, so don’t expect him to last very long, at least not at first. He physically has to tense his muscles, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, trying so hard NOT to blow his load the second your tight wet heat engulfs his cock. His skin is flaming hot, but he’s shivering above you, groans emanating from his slacked jaw, trying to fight the way his balls draw up, the way his stomach muscles tighten already.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Are sex toys canon in Star Wars? Someone please lmk. But my answer is going to be no for now!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kylo doesn’t have to tease you, like, at all. You just want him so bad all the time and he still doesn’t understand why. However. You’re quite the tease, and this poor virgin can’t take it. Seriously, if you want to see the mighty Kylo Ren crumble, all you need to do is press a chaste kiss to his lips, put a hand on his thigh, look at him, or just breathe basically, and he’ll be hard and wanting in seconds. I love our space boyfriend.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ben Swolo can make some NOISE lemme tell ya. It’s all low groans and grunts, so caught up in the heat of your body and how fucking tight you are around him. No matter how hard he tries to contain the noises that slip from his throat, he can’t help it. He’ll confidently moan and moan in your ear, minted breath hitting your cheek, letting you know his pleasure is solely from you, and you alone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kylo is what we call a service top. He would do anything to put your pleasure first, his own pleasure depends on that. He had never cum harder than that first time you clamped around his cock, finally feeling your orgasm around him. Lights flickered and whirred; it was…intense.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hung like a moose omg who said that? Anyways. My guess is 7-8 inches. Good luck girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Siri play ‘Everyday’ by Ariana Grande please. Seriously. He feels fucking insane with how bad he wants to be buried in you at all times. Whether he’s tired, beaten or bruised, you could catch a dick anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kylo will eventually fall asleep cuddled up next to you, but not until he allots himself a few minutes to admire your beauty, running his thick fingers through your hair, kissing your temple until he sees you eyes flutter shut. Awe. Whatta softie.

[cas-backwards-tie]

ADCU Masterlist

A/N: Just making a separate masterlist for this because I have a fair number of these and also there's a bunch of different characters!

Kylo Ren

Call Me Kylo | Officer!Reader ↠ You're tasked with getting the Commander's signature to finish your assignment. Unfortunately, you can't find the Commander anywhere.

Correspondence ↠ The Supreme Leader has a lot on his plate, leading him to neglect certain things... like himself, for example.

Nothing But A Monster | Vampire! AU ↠ Forced to accept help from a mysterious stranger, you find yourself in a predicament of sorts.

It’s The Small Things ↠ Kylo finds your optimism odd in place of the First Order.

The Meaning Of Care | Officer!Reader ↠ Kylo Ren takes care of you when you're sick? That's something you never would've seen coming.

Clyde Logan

Pinball & Motels ↠ Roadtrips, A present for Clyde, and the one-bed trope? What more could you ask for?

A Day Off ↠ Clyde finally takes a well-deserved day off.

Flip Zimmerman

Frenzied Rendezvous* ↠ Flip finally has his way with you after enduring your teasing all night long.

Pale

Early Mornings ↠ Pale wakes up to find you making breakfast. It's like you plan on staying or something. Wait... do you plan on staying?

Solo Triplets

A Quiet Night ↠ The boys want to take you out on a proper date.

Ben Solo

Fairytale Mess* ↠ Sleeping with Ben Solo doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you're both under the influence.

Paul Sevier

Extraordinary ↠ Paul attempts to go out and have a social nigh. After everything that's happened... things haven't changed him that much, have they?

Daniel Jones

Late Night Confessions ↠ Dan wakes you up with a drunken phone call.

Multi-Character

headcanons

Breakup Headcanons

[sacklerscumrag]

Sunshine (Part 1/2)

single dad!Clyde Logan x nanny!reader

1 of 2

Notes: Hi! I know I haven't written for the ADCU in some time but i have this dad!clyde brainrot and i might as well post it. part 2 is 90% done so I’ll post that sometime soon

I miss being here & I hope everyone is doing well, sending all of you lots of love & thank you for taking time out of your day to read my silly little stories, i appreciate you <3

Warnings: protective girl dad!Clyde, talk about kids, mention of abandonment issues, mother not involved (and will not appear at any point), no mention of y/n, fluff, pining, pervy thoughts from sasquatch, eventual smut in second part (tags will be added), no cliffhanger

Word Count: 7.1K

(this will go back & forth between Clyde's POV & readers POV)

The bar was filled with scattered conversations and the faint sound of jukebox music lingering in the background. It was an otherwise quiet Thursday night at Duck Tape. Clyde busied himself as usual, topping off the regulars and ensuring everyone was settled and satisfied. The calm before the storm, at least until the real crowd rushed in to watch the Friday night game. Being the only bar in a small town meant there was little else to do around here. Clyde never seemed to mind, though; catching familiar faces day in and day out was one of his favorite parts of owning Duck Tape in the first place. Regulars usually required minimal conversation, which was right up Clyde's alley. The most words anyone got out of him other than his siblings was Earl, but he didn't mind. Clyde quickly finished his last prep of the day and glanced around the bar, taking advantage of the slow pace and stepping away into the recluse of his office. He huffed as he shut the door behind him and sank into his lanky chair; a never-ending sea of papers he'd been dodging surrounded him on the worn-out wooden desk. His eyes burned, and his head ached from the tension of another long day. Taking over the bar a couple of years ago definitely tested his limits. He loved it here, but it strained the already little energy he had left to go on about his day. So much had changed in Clyde's life in the past few years alone. From becoming a father to being the new proud owner of Duck Tape due to the Heist, plus there was-. The Heist, the words halted his train of thought as memories came and went.

The biggest risk any of them had taken in their life landed all three Logans with more financial security than they knew what to do with; plus, if anything was going to convince Clyde that the Logan family curse was finally broken, it sure as hell was how swiftly they had gotten away with all of it. But none of that really mattered. Sure, it was more than nice not to think about how he would pay off the next bill or where his next meal would come from, but he couldn't help but look around and feel like something was missing. Maybe someone to share it with woulda been nice, he thought to himself. Jimmy had Sylvia, Mellie had Joe, and well, he had his Sunshine. He mentally kicked himself at the apparent self-doubt clouding his mind; Clyde had more than enough to be grateful for. But a small part of him couldn't help but yearn.

It's not like Clyde was a stranger when it came to love. Sure, it's not something he thinks he's ever experienced, but he was sure he saw it with Jimmy and Sylvia. What they had was enough to convince him there was something more out there. Clyde just wasn't entirely sure he deserved whatever that was. He would live the rest of his life longing for something he couldn't quite put his finger on, and that's just another obstacle in his life he had come to terms with.

Clyde's train of thought quickly faded when he heard the office door click open behind him, making him turn in his chair. Dark, luscious curls crawled their way onto his lap, and small arms stretched around his waist. The discomfort from a long workday quickly melted away as giggles filled his ears. Mellie trailed into the office, following a giggling Lyla, who had already captured her dad in an embrace.

Clyde took a moment to tussle Lyla's hair slightly, making her giggle even louder. The way she fit into his lap took him back to a time when she was nothing but a wailing newborn cradled in his arms while the uncertainty of being thrown into fatherhood haunted him. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. It was not like his head was in the right place either, with the too-embarassing-to-admit heartbreak, confusion, and, no doubt, fear consuming him. A one-night stand he was sure he'd never hear from again turned into a small note tied with a pink ribbon to a baby carrier on his doorstep nine months or so later. He was young, dumb, and with no time to process any of it, but before he knew it, there she was. All big brown eyes and grabby hands, looking back at him like he hung the moon, and from that moment on, Clyde knew his life would change forever.

"Hey, Sunshine." Clyde drawled, and Lyla smiled while babbling to him about her day with her favorite aunt. Mellie smiled at the sight of her eager niece, sparing no detail of their girl's day spent at the salon.

"You good if I head on out?" Mellie said as soon as Lyla let her get a word in.

"Yeah, was jus' finishin' up here n' headin' home."

"Alright. Don't stay too late now. Night, you two." Lyla wrapped herself around Mellie's legs in a tight hug before saying her goodnight and reluctantly seeing her out the door.

"Ready to go, Sunshine?" Lyla nodded towards her dad and practically sprinted toward the front door. Something told him Mellie let her niece have more sugar before bed than he would usually allow, and something else told him he would be the one to pay for it later.

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

As the busier weeks of the year followed with football season being at its peak, Clyde had just about had it. Another night at Duck Tape dragged on, minutes feeling like hours. Clyde was nearing his limit between the higher volume of patrons than usual and being understaffed with just two servers on the floor for the third night in a row. He hadn't even realized what time it was. And it wasn't just tonight; everything was starting to blur together as of late—never-ending odd hours at the bar in between quality time playing whatever princess Lyla was currently obsessing over, all while making sure he was always home just in time to read a bedtime story and tuck her into bed. Clyde was losing it. It's not like he thought things would get easier as Lyla got older, but damn, he could use a break.

And he sure as hell wasn't comfortable leaving Lyla in any sort of childcare yet, so help came from the people he loved the most. Mellie was always around to spend time with her niece, taking Lyla to the salon whenever possible, while Jimmy and Sylvia were happy to step in when they could. Clyde knew how lucky he was, having his family rally around him and step up whenever he needed them. He never did like to impose his troubles on them, knowing they had their own lives to take care of. Always making sure he was on time to pick Lyla up straight after work and spending his days off with her, attending endless tea parties along with movie nights where every stuffed animal she could fit would join them on the couch beside them in the small trailer they shared.

Clyde found himself overwhelmed by the daily chaos more often than he'd like to admit. But the truth is, he had grown to depend on her just as much as she did on him. Her smiles brightened even his darkest days. Listening to Lyla talk about the things she loves, whispering 'I love you, and snuggling before bed every night kept him going no matter how exhausted he was. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

But late at night, when Lyla was finally asleep and the world was a little quieter, Clyde's thoughts always seemed to be a little louder. It was the only time when he didn't have to have all the answers or act like everything wasn't weighing on him as heavily as it was, where not a single person depended on or needed something from him. Nothing else to do but sink into the couch, crack his favorite beer open, and drift off to sleep, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again.

"C'mon Clyde. A couple drinks with ya favorite brother, plus ya can use the night out. Syl's got her." Jimmy insisted, breaking Clyde out of his haze. Clyde huffed; the poor guy just wanted his brother to let off some steam, and he understood that. He was thankful his brother always looked out for him in his own way, but he couldn't give in. Not again. He winced slightly at the memory of the last time he indulged in a reckless drunk night out and how it ended with Lyla on his doorstep. Not that he regrets any of it, of course. He'd do it again a million times if it meant ending up with Lyla every time. But there was no denying the exhaustion that plagued him since that day. Long days and sometimes nights at the bar, followed by a never-ending list of chores, along with a more than needy kiddo constantly yanking at his leg, awaited him at home.

" 'S alright. 'M jus' stressed, been workin' nonstop, jus' wanna get home to Sunshine." Clyde put on a strained smile as he wiped down the bar top for the night. He couldn't bring himself to justify spending any of his spare time away from his girl. Having his family watch Lyla was always more of a necessity; how could he ask more of them? Just so he could kick back a few beers and feel like shit about it tomorrow? No, thank you, Clyde thought to himself. Jimmy let up as their attention was drawn away toward the door, chiming as Mellie sauntered into Duck Tape and scurried right up to the bar beside her brother.

"Guess what?" Mellies shoots Clyde a knowing smirk while bouncing on her feet excitedly.

"What?" Clyde managed to keep his tone steady, reluctantly ready to hear whatever Mellie was plotting after having to fight Jimmy off for the last hour about him 'loosenin' up,' whatever the hell that meant.

"I found ya a babysitter for the summer. Or is a nanny that ya needed? Oh well, whatever it is, I found her." She pulls out one of the bar stools and takes a seat. Clyde sets down the rag and takes a deep breath before looking back at Mellie, silently urging her to continue. "An' before ya say anythin', she's a real close friend; met her a couple years back at the salon, and she just moved back into town; she'd be perfect for this."

"Takin care of Lyla isn't something for one of your little friends, Mel." Clyde didn't mean to sound so condescending. Especially when his little sister was only trying to make his life easier, but he couldn't help himself. With the amount of time this person would spend with his daughter, Clyde needed someone he could trust. He prided himself in always wanting what was best for his Sunshine; her care was no exception.

"C'mon Clyde. Ya need the help, and she's a good one, I swear. Great with kids, and you can trust her." He sighed. "Just meet her before you make any decisions...please?" Clyde knew there was no talking Mellie out of anything, especially when her mind was made up like this. Plus, if he was being honest with himself, he was desperate. He didn't trust many people where Lylas was concerned, and that made the picking for her nanny or even a babysitter slim to none in this small town. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed this. And if Mellie trusted her, well, that would have to be good enough for him. For now.

"Fine. I'll meet her. When were ya thinkin'?" Mellie beamed a smile at him before checking her phone as a text message came through.

"Is now a good time?" Clyde's dazed look only amused Mellie further as she turned to the front door. "There she is!" Mellie hollered toward you, waving so you'd join them.

Clyde's eyes felt like they were damn near ready to fall right out of his head. If the word 'trouble' had a picture next to it in the dictionary, he was sure it'd look a lot like you, all dolled up in jeans that looked like they'd been drawn on and worn-down cowboy boots as you confidently strutted your way toward him. All bright eyes and delicious curves taking up all of his attention and then some. Clyde's grip tightened, practically digging his fingernails painfully into his palm. He couldn't remember the last time he reacted so strongly to someone. Pretty girls strolling in and out of Duck Tape were a rarity; he never bothered to give them a second look, let alone a first one. A hazy introduction later, you extended your hand towards him, and he swore he could feel lightning crackle through his veins at the warmth of your palm, immediately kicking himself for being so affected by you so quickly. Get it together, asshole, he told himself. This was going to be a long night.

---------

Mellie embraced you warmly and dragged you toward the two men staring daggers at you from the bar. It felt odd when she texted you out of the blue to meet her and the parent of the child you might or might not be taking care of this summer at some bar, but you didn't question it. Mellie always came with surprises. You happily greeted Jimmy, recalling the second Logan and his little girl from when you visited Mel's salon while he was fixing up the place last summer. In the short time you spent in this small town, the Logans always had their own way of making you feel right at home.

"Hi." You introduced yourself to the man behind the bar top, trying not to let his stern gaze affect you. His broad shoulders and handsome face made your breath hitch from the moment you first saw him. And if he kept looking at you like he was, you weren't sure your knees wouldn't buckle on the spot.

"Clyde, this is my friend I was tellin' ya about." Mellie cautiously glared at her seemingly rigid brother before looking back at you. "This is my brother, Clyde, Lyla's dad." You offered him a warm smile and extended a hand toward him. Clyde stiffened further, eyes darting between you; his large palm engulfed yours.

"Hm. Nice to meet ya." He offered you a tight smile and briefly shook your hand, practically snatching it away. Your skin suddenly missed his warmth, but you shook away the slight disappointment at his apparent disinterest.

"Clyde, don't be rude. Sorry, he's not a real people person." Mellie scolded him and turned toward you. "So ya still interested in that babysittin' gig? Lord knows my brother here could use the help." Clyde's eyes shot up and glared at Mellie, silently wishing the ground would swallow him whole so he could be spared the embarrassment his little sister was already putting him through.

"I don't know. Is it still available?" You glanced at Clyde teasingly, hoping to ease whatever tension had manifested between the three of you in the last five minutes.

"Yes. No." Clyde scrambled to gather his thoughts before continuing. "It is I just...I'd like to see ya spend time with her first. See how ya are with her n all that.'' He sighed. This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. He was supposed to find a nanny, get through the summer, and life could go on like it had been. Instead, he felt so flustered that he couldn't even string a simple sentence together if his life depended on it.

"I can come over sometime this week to spend some time with her. If it doesn't feel like a good fit for you, you have no obligation to hire me." You made sure to sneak in that last part before he could change his mind. Clyde nodded towards you appreciatingly.

"How's tomorrow afternoon? Round 1? I can drop her off after my shift." Mellie chimed in before Clyde could stumble over any more of his words.

"Tomorrow it is, then." You nodded and received a barely there smile from the grumpy bartender. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

-----

The next day arrived much faster than Clyde realized. He typically looked forward to his mornings off, sharing a big plate of burnt bacon with Lyla while sprawling on the couch watching morning cartoons. Instead, he spent most of his morning distracted. Even when Lyla rambled about what was playing on the television, Clyde's mind wandered back to you. It's not like he'd gotten much sleep either, with the thought of seeing you again running through is mind late at night. What was supposed to be a quick shower ended with Clyde's hand gripping his cock, images of you pressed up against him, droplets of water streaming down your breasts as he drove into you and pressed his warm body on yours. It wasn't long before he felt himself spill on his hand, and harsh reality set in. Clyde hated himself over it. He was going to be your employer, for fucks sake. He'd barely met you for more than ten minutes, and already he was over here pining and touching himself like some hormone-crazed teenager with a crush. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Mellie swung by to pick Lyla up, promising her another one of their girls' days at the salon. Lyla quickly got ready, and after seeing her out the door and waving the two off, Clyde managed to peel himself off the couch and headed over to the bar.

From there, the morning dragged like no other. Clyde spent most of it sitting in his office, trying not to think about the fact that you'd walk through those doors any second. He always found it easy to throw himself into work, put everything else aside, and focus on what needed to get done. But every time he tried, there you were. There was no way he'd be able to do this. Spending more time with you? If he felt this out of control after one day, how would he be able to be any sort of normal around you all summer? He couldn't; he had to end this today. You would understand; Mellie said this job wasn't all that serious for you anyway. You could go back to wherever you came from, and he could finally get something done without thinking about how your hand felt on his last night. Or how badly he wanted to trace the soft skin on your collarbone or how your smile warmed his heart with a familiarity he somehow already craved.

Clyde didn't get too far into his bar prep when the doors to Duck Tape swung open. Lylas skipped inside, Mellie following closely behind her. She stumbled while trying to climb one of the bar stools, making Clyde exit the bar quickly and taking her in his arms.  

"Gon' hurt ya self there, Sunshine." Lyla giggled, the bar stool wobbling underneath her before Clyde set her on the ground. Just as Mellie said her goodbyes and headed out, the door opened, but this time, Clyde could've sworn he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.

-------

Your morning had been nothing short of hectic after changing your outfit an endless amount of times. Not to mention spilling coffee on your shirt once you'd managed to settle on something. You quickly shoved that aside and mustered whatever courage you had left to head over to the bar. A short drive later, you walked into Duck Tape at precisely one o'clock to find Clyde standing beside an adorable little girl looking up at him with a guilty look on her face.

"Now I know Aunt Mellie gave ya candy at the salon; that's enough for today, sunshine." Lyla pouted slightly as you listened in. Clyde said a quick hi and crouched beside her when he noticed you standing there. Lyla wrapped herself around her dad's legs when she spotted you.

"Lyla, this is Aunt Mellie's friend. The one I told ya about." Clyde waited cautiously for his daughter's response. As you knelt on the floor in front of the pair, you were met with wild chestnut curls and doe-brown eyes on the cutest kid you've ever seen.

"Nice to meet you, Lyla." The little girl retracted shyly into her dad's embrace. Your eyes landed on the coloring book and plastic crayon box she cradled in her hands. "That's a nice princess coloring book you got there. Rapunzel is my favorite, ya know."

"Rapuzel's my favorite too." Lyla mumbled, chocolate button eyes hesitantly landing on you.

"No way! Her dress has both of my favorite colors, purple and pink."

"Those are mine too! Daddy got me a 'punzel dress, and he lets me wear it all the time when we have tea parties 'n stuff." You could've sworn Clyde's cheeks flushed slightly like the doting dad you could already see he was.

"I bet he does." You smiled over at Clyde. Thinking about this large man playing pretend princess and having tea parties with his daughter had your heart swirling with emotions you were sure shouldn't be there in the first place. You didn't know why that warmed your heart the way it did, but you brushed it off as you offered to color with her, and Lyla practically dragged you toward the back of the bar.

The next hour was spent with the both of you huddled in a corner booth while Clyde kept busy around the bar. You talked endlessly about her extensive knowledge of every single princess, colored a couple of pages, and even earned a few giggles.

Clyde wiped down the bar for what he was sure was the millionth time. There was minimal on the to-do list for today, but he would busy himself here as long as it took if it meant keeping an eye on you two. It's not like you needed it; he didn't need to be there to know you were hitting it off with Lyla. The chatter had been nonstop since you sat at the booth; you engaged seamlessly with her. Listening intently to every word while keeping her entertained. He noticed his daughter was just as entranced with you as he was. This was a good thing, wasn't it? He had to admit he miscalculated your ability in all of this when you first met. Clyde felt terrible about how closed off he'd been last night. Here you were, all bright-eyed and ready to help, and there he was, the usual grey cloud raining on everybody's parade the first chance he got. At least, that's how he assumed everyone saw him.

Clyde was refilling some bottles from the bar when Jimmy called, letting him know he was outside. He signaled over to Lyla, who was beyond excited to spend the rest of her day with her uncle and cousin Sadie. You helped her gather her things before Jimmy took Lyla in his arms. One "Bye, Daddy!" and a wave from Clyde later, and it was just the two of you in the ample bar space.

"So how'd I do, bossman?" you asked as Clyde stepped out from behind the bar. His large frame coming into full view was enough to make a girl swoon on the spot. You attempted to reign in whatever self-control you could gather, well enough to take a step toward him without feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. Clyde remained silent for a moment before you felt the need to speak.

"Look, I know it must be hard to just trust a stranger with all this. And I know I'm not the most qualified person out there. But I'm a hard worker and punctual; playing princesses and tea parties happens to be my specialty. Plus, I can make anything into a game." You could've sworn you saw a hint of a smirk on Clyde's handsome face.

"She seems to like you." Warmth blossomed in your chest at the compliment. Lyla was a smart kid and funny, too. You knew it would be hard not to fall in love with the little rascal from the moment you met.

"Well, I like her too, so that's a plus." Clyde felt his entire body tense up at your newfound proximity. From here, he could see the flush of your lips and the captivating color in your eyes, like two pools he would happily drown in. Your warm smile drew him in until he found himself needing to be closer to you than what was deemed appropriate. And to hear you talking so sweetly about his sunshine? His heart felt like it could burst out of his chest, but he quickly compelled that away to unpack another day.

"Can ya start tomorrow? I have a late shift bein' a sports night n all." Clyde attempted to shake his thoughts away. He had to try at least to pretend like he hadn't spent the better part of his shift taking longing glances at you, admiring the way your white tee and jeans fit your curves in a way that made sure he'd have to walk around with a semi and adjust his pants for the rest of the day.

"Sure thing. Your place?" Clyde nods and gives you a time and address.

--------

The next several weeks were filled with endless princess gatherings, storytelling from faraway lands, coloring for hours on end, and whatever adventure Lyla would conjure up that day. She warmed up to you almost instantly; things were going great. Better than great, sometimes, you had to question if this was really your job with how much fun you were having. Lyla was witty, smart, and had an imagination to be envied. She seemed so free and unapologetically herself in the best way. You could tell she had been raised with an unconditional love any kid could only dream of. It wasn't like the occasional meltdown didn't take place from time to time, being a toddler and all. But you always find a way to bring that smile back to Lyla's face.

Things with Clyde hadn't simmered down in the slightest. Every interaction, every glance, every accidental touch had your yearning growing. Every moment spent together allowed you to quietly admire something new about him. The way his chest filled out those t-shirts he often wore, his hair that begged to have your fingers tangled in it, or even how he pursed his lips in that way that had your core clenching whenever he spoke. Not to mention, seeing him with Lyla made your knees weak. This gentle giant's soft demeanor melted your heart while twisting your insides in the most delicious way. Still, Lyla kept you more than busy; otherwise, you'd spend your days daydreaming about Clyde Logan. Today was no different. Building forts and baking cookies had been the first thing on the itinerary, and knowing Lyla, there was always more to come. When she'd finally fallen asleep watching Cinderella on the couch, you carefully tucked her into her bed and quietly exited the room, shutting the door just as Clyde entered the trailer.

"Hey." You whispered as Clyde set down his stuff and went to the kitchen. "I just put her to bed."

"Thanks. Sorry, 'M late. Bar kept gettin' crazy n' I just couldn't get away. It's-" You cut him off by placing a hand on his arm, feeling him tense under you.

"Clyde, it's okay. That's what I'm here for, remember?" You winked at him before walking toward the kitchen to put away the rest of the dishes. Clyde headed to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Your cheeks warmed, watching him lean over with one sturdy arm on the fridge door, the muscles on his back rippling under the worn-down t-shirt while the two bottles fit snuggly in his large hand. Get it together, you told yourself, forcing your gaze away.

"Beer?" Clyde gestured toward you. "I was jus' gonna have one on the porch." The words tumbled from his mouth without realizing. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. You looked all comfortable, your books and blanket on his couch, standing here in his kitchen, in his home, moving around like you belonged there. But Clyde wasn't stupid; his head was definitely playing tricks on him. There wasn't a universe that existed where a woman as beautiful as you would be interested in a guy like him, and he understood that. Now the only problem was keeping his heart and dick in check long enough to be professional. 

The night sky was decorated with stars against the black abyss, quiet and still. Just the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. Clyde followed you outside, shutting the door quietly. You sat beside him, legs folded comfortably in the porch chairs as he handed you a cold beer. 

"So, how was everythin'?" He said before taking a swig of his beer, the soft rumble of his voice activating those darn butterflies in your stomach already.

"Great. Pretty sure she tried on every princess dress in her closet and saw Frozen at least ten times. We danced, sang, and even built a fort." You found yourself smiling at the memory of Lyla with a mismatched dress and crown belting 'Let It Go' with you while jumping around her room. "Same old, same old."

"Mhm." Clyde relaxed further into his seat. The more time you spent with him, the more apparent it became that he was a man of few words. Still, you appreciated the ones he was willing to share with you. 

"It was a good day; it always is." You noticed Clyde stretched his left arm before him as if irritated by it. 

"Mind if I take this off?" The words tumbled out before Clyde could stop them, the beer loosening his tongue. Clyde wasn't sure why he suddenly felt comfortable enough around you to remove his prosthesis. He was pretty sure the people closest to him hadn't even seen him without it. Although it shouldn't surprise him, his sense of ease around you only grew within the last couple of weeks.

"Go ahead." Clyde hesitated for a second, then carefully removed his prosthetic, massaging the tender spot. Your eyes scanned the newly exposed skin. "Does it hurt?" Clyde paused his movement and huffed. You cleared your throat, the day's exhaustion clearly eliminating whatever filter you had left. "Sorry. I didn't mean to-forget I said anything." 

"'S alright. Served two tours n' ended with this. 'N no, not really, not all the time, at least. Jus' bothers having this thing on all day." You nodded, understanding it was something still difficult for him to talk about.

"You don't have to ask, you know? To take it off. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable for no reason." Clyde smiled while nursing his beer. When he looked over, he found your eyes tracing the scars left behind on his arm. Clyde reached for his sleeve, suddenly feeling the need to cover up, before you placed your hand on his arm, stopping him. "Is this okay?" Clyde gulped and gave a slight nod. He wasn't sure if it was the exposed flesh or how vulnerable this whole thing felt, but he swore he could feel every nerve on his body light up under your touch. Your fingers lightly outlined the scar for a moment before you smiled at him, settled back into your chair, and sipped your beer. 

"Mellie dropped by today, and I meant to ask you if I should know of anyone coming by to see Lyla other than your siblings. Friends maybe? Her mom?" You snuck in that last part before you could stop yourself; the last thing you wanted to do was overstep. But you were curious. Lyla never mentioned her, and you didn't notice any pictures of her around the house. Was she a good mom? Was she pretty? She had to be to be Lyla's mom. Did she still hang around? Would she like you hanging around? Maybe she wouldn't want you getting all close to Clyde. Hush that is none of your business, you told yourself.

"Lyla's mom isn't in the picture. Never was. She jus' about dropped Lyla at my doorstep 'n we never heard from her again. Didn't want nothin' to do with her or me, said so in the letter she left." His words spliced across your heart, and tears welled in your eyes for the little girl sleeping soundly inside. Just thinking about someone walking away from an angel like that with such carelessness had you wanting to find this woman with your fist immediately.

"So, you two never?" Clyde shook his head almost as if you'd insulted him.

"It was a one-time thing. A drunken night full of bad choices, 'N then she disappeared. Popped back up again with Lyla, and that was it. Letters last I heard from her." Clyde said. "Not that I wanted her to come back. I don't. We've been jus' fine just us two." 

"I don't doubt that for a second." 

-----------

The following Sunday morning came with blue skies and warm summer air. Clyde insisted you'd take Sundays for yourself, although you weren't sure why. It's not like you had any other friends around here besides Mel, not to mention a social life being out of the question. When you weren't with Lyla, plans usually consisted of staying at home with a good book and getting chores done. You were gathering your things to lay out in the sun for a bit when Mellie called about being overbooked at the salon and Clyde having an emergency at the bar and asked if you could watch Lyla for the day. A few minutes later, you managed to put together an easy picnic basket, threw a shirt and shorts over your bathing suit, and headed out the door.

A short drive and only two knocks on the trailer later, Lyla ran out, wrapping both arms around your legs in a tight hug. She quickly pulled you inside to find Clyde sitting on the couch with cartoons playing faintly in the background. 

"Hi." The morning rasp in his voice had your chest tightening and face flushing. He wore a faded t-shirt and simple dark gray sweats that you had to fight not to stare at. "I tried callin'. Ya didn't have to come, everythin's been takin care of."

"Oh. My phone must still be on do not disturb from last night or something. I was gonna take Lyla to the lake for a picnic and maybe a swim." Lyla's face immediately perked up as she squealed excitedly.

"I'm gonna go get my swimsuit on!" She yelled as she tried to run off into the hall before Clyde stopped her.

"Now, sunshine, today's her day off."

"What's that mean?" Lyla's disappointment grew along with the pout on her face. 

"Means she's got stuff to do, stuff she's gotta get done today. She'll be back tomorrow, hm?" Lyla reluctantly nodded as Clyde placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Well," you interjected, unsure if it was your place to say something, but there was no way you could stand by and disappoint Lyla like this, especially when spending your days with her had become your favorite thing to do. "If it's okay with your dad, I'd love some company. I can't eat all these PB&J's and snacks I packed alone now, can I?" Lyla looked toward Clyde. A mix of 'please' and 'please, daddy' flooded Clyde's ears before reluctantly giving in to his daughter's whim. Lyla sprinted toward her room to change, mumbling something about showing her water tricks, making you chuckle.

"You're welcome to join us. I packed plenty of food, and it's too nice of a day out to stay inside." Clyde contemplated for a moment. Just the thought of seeing you prancing around in the water in a skin-tight bathing suit had his pants tightening uncomfortably. He wasn't sure he could control himself. But he had the day off and sure as hell didn't want to spend it without his Sunshine. Plus, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the two of you alone by the creek in the woods. It would be safer if he went with you. At least that's what he told himself as he agreed and slipped away to change into his water shorts.

The drive over to the creek went a little faster than usual, thanks to you and Lyla singing along to some of her favorite songs. Clyde spent the entire ride concealing a smirk at the sight of both of you breaking into song and then into a fit of giggles once one of you would get the words mixed up. Once you'd arrived, Clyde wasted no time unloading the truck and helping a restless Lyla get out of her seat. You found the perfect shady spot to set up the blanket and laid out some things from the picnic basket; once satisfied, you set your shorts and shirt to the side and settled in. Lyla wasted no time hitting the water, barely letting you slather some sunscreen before sprinting off with her floatie. You sat by the shore with your book, watching her splash around. The cool water around your legs is a nice relief from the sun's warmth on your skin. Clyde sat back against the tree, keeping his eyes on the two of you. He couldn't help but imagine if this was what it would be like—having someone by his side sharing moments like these with Lyla. 

The afternoon passed far too quickly. A blur of splashes and fits of laughter ended with a sleepy Lyla slung on her dad's shoulders as you packed everything back into the truck and headed out. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the fleeting colors of dusk began to fade away. Only the rumble of the truck and crickets chirping surrounded by the night sky remained. Lyla's soft snores could be heard from behind as you glanced over at Clyde. The soft moonlight reflected off his skin, hair still slightly damp from the creek. His eyes were trained on the road ahead, but you could tell something was on his mind as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

You sat comfortably on the passenger seat, your thigh dangerously close to his hand resting on the gear. His fingers itched to reach over, wondering how soft your flesh would feel under his touch. No matter how hard it was to keep a calm facade, he couldn't help but recall the silky skin over your bathing suit top, curves he would kill to trace every inch of it with his tongue teasing him from every angle. Even the way your teeth caught on your lip in the most sinful way was driving him insane. Everything about today was driving him insane. Not to mention watching you with his Sunshine. How you'd dramatically play along to every scenario Lyla created until you were nothing but a fit of giggles, watching in awe as you smothered her in hugs and kisses every time she'd swim into your arms. His sunshine was an affectionate girl, don't get him wrong. But she sure as hell didn't open up easily to strangers, yet here you were, winning her over from day one. Clyde shook away the ache in his heart at the thought as he redirected his attention back to the road.

A short while later, you'd arrived back at Clyde's. He hopped out of the car just after you did, carrying a passed-out Lyla in his arms into the house. You stayed outside, wondering if you should wait for him to return or count your losses and hurry home. Before you could make up your mind, Clyde appeared and shut the door quietly behind him, leaving the two of you uncomfortably close on his front porch.

"Thank ya for today." The faulty lamp above you did little against the night.

"It's no problem," you said before a silence fell between you. The dim light accentuated his nose and the plumpness of his lips in the most beautiful way. His eyes drifted up to yours as you took a tentative step toward him. Your heart began to pound, chests nearly pressed against one another, feeling a familiar desire spread in your core. Clyde's breathing grew heavier, suddenly aching to get you closer.

Just as the longing became unbearable, he closed the gap between your mouths, first with the utmost gentleness, then with the hunger of a starved man. You made a delicious little sound and responded with the same fervor, sparking a fire in his belly. He didn't want it to stop. The warmth of his mouth had you melting into him. Your lips parted slightly as his hand came up loosely at the side of your neck, holding you close.

"Daddy!" Lyla's distant voice rang in your ears. Clyde pulled away suddenly; a rush of frigid air replaced the warmth where his body was pressed up against you. It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over the two of you, snapping you back into your harsh reality. Lyla began to cry from what was probably a nightmare. Clyde sighed as he looked toward the front door and back to you. You cleared your throat and wrapped your sweatshirt tighter around, unable to look him in the eye after he'd practically kissed you dizzy.

"I should go. Goodnight, Clyde." You offered him a warm smile and dashed to your car before he could say anything else. Clyde stood with his head slightly hung, ensuring you were safely in the driver's seat before heading inside. You lowered the windows in an attempt to let the humid summer night air free from inside, hoping a little fresh air would snap you out of whatever trance Clyde had just put you under. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you ran your fingers along your lips, the ghost of his kiss still buzzing through you on the drive home.

[jynzandtonic]

YOURE BACK!! omg for the first time in months i have stuff to catch up on 🥹 do you have any active adam driver accounts to follow?? everyone i follow is either inactive or left and i need more content!! <3

I'M BACK!! I've missed writing and simping and connecting with other Adam peeps on here.

ALRIGHT LET'S DO A ROLL CALL! If you're still on here and posting Adam content drop your blog in the comments and we can get a list going!

[reveluving]

red lipstick ; adam driver characters headcanons

summary: because what’s sexier than seeing you in red lipstick? 💄

warnings: fluff, humour, slightly explicit (minors DNI!)

a/n: on an ADCU spree so I figured it’s the best time to write my own, courtesy of @safarigirlsp​ & @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather​ for continuously feeding my obsession hehe! pls pls pls give their work some extra love!! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» check out my full m.list!

✧･ﾟ Jacques Le Gris

Le Gris' own presence exudes confidence, ferocity, and allure, and his lady is no different. What better way to show the men who envy him the same way the ladies do with you than by bringing you the best of the best? He will settle for nothing less, especially when it comes to your comfort and the like, and he will know if they're not up to par.

Old-timey Jacques will indirectly criticize the maiden in charge, knowing they probably did so to make you seem 'less appealing' to your very own lover, but many seem to forget that he was extremely smart just as he was your doting husband. Just a quick exile over here, a simple repeat of his demand for the best over there and boom, he's back to being happy ol' Le Gris. Modern Jacques is no different, for he would easily purchase the shades you'd swatch and hum to yourself, knowing if he heard how much you liked it, he'd buy the whole store for you. Do you want them personalised, too? Go right on ahead!

And that's not a threat, it's a promise.

“You should never settle for anything less, ma chérie. I shall not allow it.” He’d chime in as soon as he sees your eyes sparkle at the new case with both wonderment and guilt. If you offer to repay him for his endless gifts, he will ask for your kisses, complete with the new set he’s given you, but ever the lover boy that he is, you know good and well it won’t end with just kisses.

✧･ﾟ Flip Zimmerman

Ever heard of the saying "the fortune favours the bold"? He doesn't need to hear from Stallworth that Flip has in fact 'loosen up' upon being graced by your existence. He does, however, preen in the knowledge that since knowing you, he's become bold. Well, bolder than he already was. Where has uncertainty brought him in life? But as much as he'd like to deny till the end of time, he's nearly done it before.

Keyword: nearly.

The day you met, he wondered if he had died in a shootout and met hell's personal It girl—no angel could pull off the devil's shade with pride the way you do. Had he continued to mask his hesitancy by returning your undeterred gaze, he'd be the biggest fool for letting you go.

He'd clock in work with your lipstick stains if he could. Public indecency be damned! He'd fight everyone and anyone if he hears another person talk about it as a form of embarrassment.

"S'not my fault you don't have a pretty girl to come home to." He'd shrug, though the wolfish smile told the poor bastard everything that he felt. Was he wrong? No. Was he going to fight Flip for publicly embarrassing him with the truth? Absolutely not; your husband would probably knock him out before the guy could even land a hit.

✧･ﾟ Clyde Logan

To think there were more red lipstick shades than he could count with his good hand. In all honesty, he really doesn't have a favourite nor does it matter if it's even red or not. That's not to say he doesn't care because clearly, he does, but only in the sense that it makes you happy. You are the professional in this particular field, after all. But best believe the happiness that heightens in him whenever you'd ask for his opinion.

Still, the colour red does, however, as the current generation says, 'hits different'. Unsubtle glances from his patrons were a normal occurrence but they never got any easier by the day. But, on the other hand? He’s the lucky son of a gun who gets to call you ‘his’.

But the man loves his kisses, and kisses he will get! With your frequent visits to the bar, you'll never let this man work without at least a peck on the cheek. Seeing his signature pout lift to the bashful smile we know and love (the audacity) takes no effort.

“Y’know just how to make a man happy, sugar.” He’d murmured against your lips, his sudden boldness not surprising you but instead, his customers, who were only giving him shit but also openly ogling at you not too long ago.

✧･ﾟ Kylo Ren

Whether you think of our ol’ touch-starved leader, the vampire, the knight, or whatever suits your fancy, Kylo will want nothing more than the top-notch of things for his darling, and your preference for lipstick shouldn’t be any different! He, in a way, is an embodiment of red—his passion for both his belief, his interest, and especially, his devotion to you. So, to see the very same colour he associates closely with, other than black, be embraced as your very own as well? He shouldn’t be surprised that most, if not all of his elation are sourced from you in general.

He’s a busy man, but he will not miss the opportunity to watch you apply your colour of the day with great care. He’s unconsciously smiling, lost in your melodic hum as his vow to keep you out of harm’s way grows stronger. He’s been through hell and back to survive, and he’d have no problem doing the same it’s to ensure you leave the danger zone unscathed. So, if something as simple as red lipstick makes you happy, then don’t be surprised if you see a new one even before your current one runs out.

And although all kisses are good kisses, don’t think he won’t pull you in for a real one once the smooching fest starts. You’re worried about leaving a stain? Don’t be! His men/subordinates don’t have the balls to point them out, knowing by doing so is a game over for them.

✧･ﾟ Charlie Barber

The man eats, sleeps, and breathes art, so it's knowing his beloved has her very own is a major plus! One would think nothing impresses him anymore, or at least, not as much as his own work, but oh, were they dead wrong. There hasn't been a day where the lipstick holder on your vanity table never makes him puff out his chest with pride. From the simple matte ones he'd buy after a random day at work simply because it reminds him of you, to the high-end bold to burgundy ones personalised with your name engraved on the case. C’mon, what harm would it do to him for paying a couple of hundreds for makeup as one of his ways to say thank you to his wife—his muse!

Charlie embraces this as your form of art; the shades, the textures, the right amount of shine or shimmer—just anything that screams you. Artistry performed best by his one and only.

And how could he forget about the polaroids you both have? Yours which has him covered in your lipstick stains and face in absolute bliss? His which were you kissing the area close to his happy trail, leaving the same shade colour to his toned body?

Yes, your husband's in paradise, indeed.

✧･ﾟ Commander Mills

Another hunk who really just finds your confidence in whichever you find is best is more than enough, because what's better than his girl's own joy? Even so, if red really speaks to you, then don't be surprised he takes advantage of it. If the numerous times you've caught him staring at your lips and even shamelessly holding your gaze doesn't tell you anything, then the instance he wraps his arms around you for a little while longer before pressing his lips onto yours definitely should.

And if we're talking about the whole time-travelling shebang and somehow, you had to make your own lipstick? Wowie. This man will scour every nook and cranny for the ingredients if you asked him to. Best believe he will find what you need!

If it means getting the opportunity to see you do your thing in your colour and being able to wipe off the accidental smear just after you've applied it, that man is on a mission.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

You can tell that I lost my roll towards the end HAHAHA but if you’re wondering what lipstick in particular inspired me to write this, it’s:

ETUDE Fixing Tint in Analog Rose/Vintage Red

Dior Rouge Dior Lipstick in 999

Stunna Lip Paint Longwear Fluid Lip Color in Uncensored

PERIPERA Ink Airy Velvet in Full Red Brick (11)

[rynwritesstuff]

Adam Driver Character Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist for Adam Driver's Characters!

☆ All of the content linked below the cut is strictly for those who are 18+! If you are under 18, do NOT continue ☆

*An asterisk indicates smut!

→ Kylo Ren

Mine/Yours (Oneshot)*

The Red Means ‘I Love You’ (Oneshot)*

My Favorite Flavor (Vampire!Kylo) (Oneshot)

My Dearest Love (Medieval!Kylo) (Oneshot)*

Wasteland Baby (Oneshot)

Willow (Pirate!Kylo) (Oneshot)

Willow - Part II (Pirate!Kylo) (Oneshot)*

Now Way to Say 'Goodbye' (Oneshot)

Kylo giving reader his cape (Blurb)

Trying to get Kylo to bake with you (Blurb)

Kylo comforting reader after the loss of a family member (Blurb)

Kylo injuring the reader (Oneshot)

“I want you to be more gentle tonight.” (Blurb)*

“I learned to love you.” + “Nobody can compare to you.” (Blurb)

“I’ve never done something like this before.” (Blurb)*

Arranged marriage + Medieval!Kylo (Headcanons)

→ Charlie Barber

Illicit Affairs (Oneshot)

Crazy in Love (FamousDirector!Charlie) (Oneshot)*

Break My Heart Again (Oneshot)

Mine, Mine, Mine (Oneshot)*

Sex with Daddy!Charlie (Blurb)*

“Does this feel good?” “No, I still feel like shit.” (Blurb)*

Reader being afraid of apologies due to past abuse. (Blurb)

“I’m not jealous.” (Blurb)*

Enjoying a New Years’ Eve getaway with Charlie (Blurb)*

Needy reader (Headcanons)

→ Clyde Logan

Car Wash (Oneshot)*

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” (Blurb)

Hayride (Blurb)

Yours and Clyde’s daughter getting in trouble for fighting with another student. (Blurb)

“I’m not wearing any underwear. I thought you’d like to know.” (Blurb)*

Disciplining his daughter (Blurb)

Pregnancy sex (Blurb)*

Cuddling/A quiet night at home (Blurb)

→ Flip Zimmerman

Let It Snow! (Oneshot)*

“I think I’m in love with you.” (Blurb)

“I need you to fuck me into oblivion.” (Blurb)*

Keeping reader warm (Blurb)

Flip being possessive (Blurb)

Camping (Blurb)

Possessive!Flip eats you out (Blurb)*

Playing sexy truth or dare with Flip (Blurb)*

Flip seeing reader’s breasts for the first time (Blurb)*

Moving in with Flip (Blurb)*

Asking Flip to be more dominant with you (Blurb)*

Losing your virginity to Flip * (Headcanons)

Flip saying ‘I love you’ for the first time (Headcanons)

→ Paterson

Pussy is God (Oneshot)*

→ Pale

Taking Pale to the carnival (Blurb)

→ Maurizio Gucci

Bellissima (Oneshot)*

Celebrating reader’s birthday on a private yacht (Blurb)

Falling in love at first sight (Blurb)

“Want me to model these for you?” (Blurb)

“Why do we have to keep hiding? I’m tired of being kept a secret.” (Blurb)

Jealousy (Blurb)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

rynwritesstuff - 2024. Do not copy, repost, or steal my writing.

Dividers are by saradika-graphics

[mrs-gucci]

Fireside

{ clyde logan x female reader }

anon

A fun sexy bonfire would be fun, maybe with some exhibitionism thrown in? With Flip or Clyde or anyone you think please! :D

warnings. SMUT (18+ ONLY), slight exhibitionism (high risk of being caught), oral sex (m recieving), light dirty talk, cum in mouth.

word count: 1.19k

★ written for sextember 2023 ★

** CLICKING “KEEP READING” MEANS YOU UNDERSTAND & ACKNOWLEDGE ALL OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE AND ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOUR CONTENT CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. MINORS DNI. **

collage by me :)

When Jimmy and Mellie extended an invitation to you for the Logan family annual camping trip, you were honored. You and Clyde have only been dating for about four months, but everyone agrees that you two have something really special.

So when the day rolls around, you and Clyde pack up the car and drive up to the campsite. Everyone's already there when you arrive, considering you two got a bit of a late start due to...special circumstances, aka you two being unable to keep your hands off each other.

Clyde insists on setting up the tent while you sit with the family and start getting to know everyone. It's immediately clear that you fit right in with everyone and soon enough, you've got some hot apple cider in-hand and you're cracking jokes with the group.

Soon the sky turns from blue to orange and the Logan boys begin building the campfire while everyone else gets things ready for dinner. Once it's cooked, the lively conversation continues well into the night, with plenty of laughs and stories shared between everyone.

Most of the family ends up back in their tents by ten, but you, Clyde, Jimmy and Mellie continue chatting for a bit longer. For some reason, you're starting to get really touchy. Because you're looking at Clyde in the yellow glow of the fire and he's just looking so, so handsome...

He looks over at you when he seemingly catches onto your mood, offering you a small but knowing smile. The cool metal on his prosthetic hand comes to rest on your thigh as Mellie and Jimmy start to wind down for the night.

As soon as they're in their tents, you're leaning over and pulling him in for a kiss. He chuckles against your lips, flesh hand resting on the side of your face.

"What's up with ya tonight?" he asks when you pull back slightly to catch your breath. "Don't think I didn't notice your wanderin' eyes. now."

You smile, looking up at him. "I just think you look very handsome this evening."

"Handsome, huh?" His eyebrows raise slightly as he gives you another kiss. "'n that's all that's got you all riled up? You ain't thinkin' about anything else?"

Your smile widens to a not-so-subtle grin.

"I mean, I had a few other thoughts..." you hum, getting up and climbing onto his lap. "Like what we did this morning."

Clyde hums, his hand resting on your hip, stroking your clothed skin gently.

"Oh yeah? What've ya been thinkin' about in particular?"

You kiss him deeply, then let your lips fall to his jaw, then his neck and throat, mouthing and nipping gently along the way.

"Thought about how good your mouth felt on me, how fucking good you are at eating my pussy," you hum. "Aaaand I thought about how lucky I am that I'm the only one who gets to take your big, thick dick inside of me. Mm, and finally, I thought about how I never got to repay you for making me feel so good."

He lets out a shaky breath as you slide down onto your knees in front of him, hands smoothing over his thighs. Clyde looks around at the tents, then back down at you.

"Honey, I dunno if we s-should..."

You lean in and press a very gentle kiss to the forming bulge around his crotch, your warm breath wafting over his crotch. "I mean, I can stop if you want me to. But everyone's asleep, baby, and you know I can make it quick."

His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches slightly as he tries to keep himself mostly composed. He brings his hand around to cradle the back of your head, gently pushing you down, indicating that he'd like you to continue.

Your lips turn up in a small smirk as your hands make quick work of his pants, pushing them down enough to be able to pull his length out.

The air is starting to get a bit chilly, but the fire crackling behind you helps. You hum, wrapping your lips around his tip, teasing his head before sinking down further and beginning to suck him off. Clyde grunts softly, hips rocking up instinctively and fingers tightening slightly in your hair.

"Mmm, Christ," he groans quietly, looking down at you as you bob up and down on him. "Lookit you, my p-pretty girl, mm, makin' me feel fuckin' amazing..."

You smile around him, then begin to go a bit faster, earning you a low groan from above, which only spurs you on more. Clyde's having a very hard time keeping quiet and finds himself looking around every time he makes a noise, making sure he didn't clue any of his family in to what's going on.

There's something so nerve-wracking but incredibly thrilling about this, getting a blowjob out in the open, with some of his family members sleeping only a few hundred yards away. Luckily, deep sleeping runs in the Logan family, so he's pretty confident that no one will catch you two.

And there's also the fact that he's incredibly, incredibly close to orgasm and it's only been a couple minutes. You just really know how to push all the right buttons.

"Oh honey, i-if you keep this up, I ain't gonna last much longer," he breathes. "Mm, you're too fuckin' good at this."

You pull off for a second and replace your mouth with your hand, looking up at him as you briefly catch your breath.

"You can move, baby," you breathe. "Use my mouth, I want you to cum."

Clyde growls softly and holds your head firmly in place as his hips begin to thrust up into your mouth. He loves when you let him take control, he loves that you trust him enough to let him do this.

"I'm gonna cum," he says quickly, breathing heavily through his nose, lips pursed as he frantically pushes you down and thrusts up at the same time. "Ohhhh I'm gonna cu--"

His orgasm suddenly hits and he lets out a long, low groan, hips jerking slightly with each spurt of cum. He makes sure you take every last drop you've earned from him before letting you go, leaning back in his chair to catch his breath for a moment.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and catch your breath before standing up again. Clyde quickly tucks himself away, then pulls you onto his lap again, kissing you deeply, sighing at the taste of his cum lingering in your mouth.

"Fuck, darlin', you're incredible," he says in between kisses. "I...I love ya."

Your eyes widen and you pull back, looking down at him. That's the first time he's ever said it to you. You smile widely, then take his face in your hands, thumb swiping across his cheekbone.

"I love you too Clyde."

He grins from ear to ear, then kisses you again, continuing to do so for a few minutes before the two of you put out the fire and head back to your tent.

****

sextember taglist: @rynwritesstuff @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman

if you'd like to be tagged in future sextember works, please let me know via comment on this post or the original sextember post!

[jameskellysgirl]

Hi there!!! My name is Elle! I am 19 & my pronouns are she/her! I’ve been lurking in the shadows here for quite sometime but I’ve decided to come out and write and make friends!!! I love writing angst & love stories. I will mainly only write for Adam Driver and Hayden Christensen characters but that might change later on!! Anyways, in my next post I’ll list characters that I write for! I can’t wait to interact with you guys!

[thirtysomethingloser92]

My Completely Self-Indulgent Stories Masterlist.

Mary’s Song.

Jimmy Logan/Reader.

(Logan Lucky 2017)

Summary:

Everyone in Boone County knew why Jimmy Logan’s marriage to Bobby-Jo never worked out—it was because of you. You were the girl who left for New York on a scholarship, leaving Jimmy behind with a broken heart and no way to follow.

Now, over a decade later, you’re back—and already neck-deep in his chaos. He spots you by the truck, slamming the bonnet with a smirk, completely unfazed by the angry shouts aimed your way. Your eyes lock with his, and that familiar grin on your face says everything—some things never change.

In every way.

Incomplete Lullaby

Greg Jenko/Reader

(21/22 Jump Street)

Summary: After clashing with your superiors, you’re reassigned to Jump Street and partnered with Greg Jenko, the department’s resident himbo with a reputation for chaos.

Your first case? Go undercover as teachers to bust a high school drug ring. Between Jenko’s antics, rebellious students, and trying to teach classes, everything goes off the rails. But as the case unfolds, you realize there’s more to Jenko than meets the eye—and maybe breaking the rules isn’t so bad after all.

[runa-falls]

recent reads - spring + early summer '23

I started this list of fics half way through my hiatus so these are just some of the reads i've done and really enjoyed!

this includes fics from a wide variety of fandoms :))

——————

miguel o'hara (so far)

hanging by a thread - @writefightandflightclub

the death of peace of mind - @tusks-and-claws

miguel drabble - @foxilayde

carbon copy - @devilishcupid

poe dameron

nine - @foxilayde

general dameron - @altangelix04

javier peña

crush - @the-ginger-hedge-witch

joel (last of us)

friends with benefits series - @hier--soir

bucky barnes

branded - wolveria (ao3)

it’s in his bite - kittykittymewmeww (ao3)

captain syverson

lines in the sand - @littlefreya

geralt z rivii

until we meet again - pikapeppa (ao3)

adrian chase

she says that i’m her all time favorite - hollandoats (ao3)

chainsaws and parking lots - @charnelhouse

carmy berzatto

force of habit - @youvebeenlivingfictional

the bear and the baker - fancyladysnackcakes (ao3)

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - tinybluewitch (ao3)

clyde logan

take me home - madandimpossible (ao3)

[hauntingoldhouses]

you look lonely, I can fix that.

[kylosjuul]

Kylo Ren Fluff HCs

warnings: none, AFAB!reader (not proofread sorry)

I have made my triumphant return to writing! Enjoy my sweet delusional babies.

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Kylo admires your softness, though you are very strong, (and almost annoyingly independent) he finds himself in awe of your smooth skin, the way your hair frames your face. He takes notice of the way you keep your nails filed and clean, how you always smell so sweet. He’s just enamored by how beautiful you truly are and how lucky he is.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Oh boy. As previously mentioned in the NSFW alphabet, he’s a sucker for your thighs and your ass. You’re the perfect shape, molded especially for his hands. But on a more sentimental note, he loves your eyes. How long your lashes are, the way you look up at him with love and certainty.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He wasn’t use to having another body next to him. So many nights saturated with nightmares and coldness. He was so cold. That first night cuddled up to him, he knew he couldn’t sleep any other way. He prefers being ‘big spoon’ holding your frame tightly against his chest, so he can protect you, even in sleep. At night just before tiredness takes you, you’ll sprawl across his chest, playing with his hair and talking about anything and everything. It’s moments like that, that he replays when he’s feeling stressed, remembering the curve of your smile and the smell of your shampoo.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Due to being you know, the ruler of everything, he cant really take you out properly. However, his idea of a ‘date’ is making sure to be home on time to eat with you, talk about your days, and just spend quality time with his girl.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Kylo isn’t the best at this. Mostly, because he feels so undeserving of you and when he tries to communicate how much he loves you, it makes him well up. You can always tell what he’s feeling just by looking into his eyes, always a little glazed over when he’s looking at you, of course. He’ll swallow down a sob and just grab your hand, stroking it with his thumb. And that’s enough for you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Family has always been a sore spot for him, obviously, constantly seeking that feeling of belonging. He’s scared to death to ever become a father, afraid of letting his children down. Of letting you down. Of letting his anger get in the way. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about making you a mother sometimes. How amazing you would be, how he craves to see you holding his child. You’re his only family now, so he’s more focused on nurturing you. (For now).

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Anything you want, just ask. It is yours. You’d be talking about some pretty dress you saw, not even halfway through your sentence and he’d say,

“Pull up my account.”

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

At first he was afraid of people looking at him as weak while holding your hand, but he very quickly got over that. It took him awhile to show PDA, but now that you rule together, he feels even stronger when your palm is in his. He’ll gladly walk the Finalizer with a hand on the small of your back, chin high. He’s so proud of you, and likes to show you off.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Panic. He would drop everything to leave and go check on you. If you were bed ridden, he would stop 20 times a day to see if you needed anything, making sure the nurses were making you their top priority. You’d wave him off telling him you were going to be okay, but that panic never stopped for him. You’re all he has left.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re definitely the funny one. Even when he is particularly stoic that day, you can still make him crack a smile. You bring out the Ben in him sometimes, and he revels in that, laughing for minutes on end over something stupid.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

In passing, he’ll give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

As a greeting, he’ll kiss you slow, taking in your lips against his.

When you’re in bed, it’s this languid, breathless kiss that has his heart pounding out of his chest.

When saying goodbye, it’s a quick peck followed by a few moments of staring into your eyes, never wanting to leave you. Ever.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He has and always will show up for you. Whenever you need him, he feels it deep in his chest, you don’t even have to say it out loud. You two are so connected, so intertwined, he can feel you needing him before the thought crosses your mind. No matter the time or context, he’s rushing to your side. He loves his sweet girl. 🫶🏼

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The first kiss. Kylo had never felt so warm, so held, in his entire life. The first time you kissed him was also his first kiss. Ever. The excitement, and fear, that twisted in his chest made him feel giddy, softly grabbing your neck and surrendering himself to you. Thats when he knew he would be whatever man you needed him to be.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

You calling it quits. Even if he lived 10 lifetimes, he wouldn’t feel like he deserved you in any of them. Yes, he would totally understand if you ever decided to leave him, but selfishly, he can’t find it in him to let you go. Even if it may be what’s best for you in the long run. The man he is and was haunts him and makes him feel sick, always hoping that his baggage never bleeds into yours.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

He puts on a sock, then a shoe, one at a time for each foot. Like, he doesn’t put both socks on, THEN the shoes. Freak! (jk)

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I’d like to headcanon that he calls you ‘sweetheart’ every once in awhile. Always whispering it too, it’s always so gentle and sweet. I can also see him calling you ‘my love’ here and there. So cute.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Having shared quarters definitely helps with this, so even on days where you don’t see him at all, you know that he’ll be there after your duties. He values just being able to hold you, talk to you for hours, whatever you want to do with him. Another way you and him spend time together, and maybe the most important of all, is going on missions. There’s no other person you can truly rely on besides him, and it’s no question that everyone can count on a success when you’re working as a team.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Here are a few songs that remind me of Kylo!

The Reason- Hoobastank

Birds of a Feather- Billie Eilish

The Summoning- Sleep Token (heavy on this one).

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Kylo is a tough one to crack. There are still some things he hasn’t told you, but he’s the most vulnerable when you are, when you start opening up to him. He’ll tell you a similar experience that happened to him, never wanting you to feel alone.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

When you first joined the Order, he viewed you as nothing but competition. Your numbers, your successes challenged him until he realized you were more of an asset than an enemy. Then, he craved you. He daydreamed of how powerful you would be together. That fateful day in the throne room when you both defeated Snoke was his wake up call. He essentially begged you to join him, and you said yes, by his luck. It took him awhile to muster up the courage to ask anything from you, but he did. And you both have been unstoppable since.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

The second a tear hits your cheek, he’s curling you into him with a vice grip, stroking your hair, gentle touches to your back. He knows pain, and loathes you experiencing it too. He’s your safe place.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Kylo is proud of how far he’s come, what he’s proved himself to be to the order. How people either fear him or respect him throughout the galaxy. But there is nothing he’s more proud of than you. He is honored to be even associated with you, pride surging through him when people recognize your power. He feels most confident when you’re walking beside him.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life. You are sharp, lethal. But graceful. Each swing of your saber carefully calculated. He would go as far to say you were a much more reliable and sturdy fighter than himself. He swells with pride seeing you take what’s yours, getting your revenge.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Given your dyad, there are no secrets. He can’t exactly read your thoughts word for word, but he can pick up on the feelings you have no matter how complicated they are. Sometimes he knows what you need before you do.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He would be shaking, nervousness vibrating in his chest, along with hope that you won’t refuse him this. This promise, this covenant to hold you forever. He swallows thickly, eye twitching and jaw working. You can see in his eyes there’s already a trace of tears. He’d grab both your hands, almost crushing them with how scared he was.

“I want you. All of you. Forever.”

He takes a knee humbly before you.

“Please.”

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Your presence. Everyone aboard knows the only way to knock any kind of sense, or peace, into the Supreme Leader is through you. (Which is why most political or detrimental plans are run by you first). You can feel his anger rippling through your dyad, urging you to find him, and once you do you place a light hand on his shoulder, “Kylo…breathe.” And he does.

[brewsterispunkk]

diamonds and stones, part one

pairing: clyde logan x f!reader (no use of y/n)

WC: 9k(!!)

summary: reader returns home & encounters some ghosts from her past.

warnings: 18+! language, mentions of war, amputation.

a/n: it's here!! i hope y'all enjoy this long ass chapter (this is so long its embarrassing LOL). there's some time skipping/flashbacks here so i hope it's not too hard to follow! as always, any feedback is appreciated :)

series masterlist

ONE

The phone had barely rung two times before you answered, thumb punching the accept call button as soon as you glanced at the caller ID. Pulling the phone up to your ear, you looked ahead at the cornfields and the open road in front of you. Your mom’s crackly voice filled your ears.

“Darlin’,” she sighed on the other end. So, she’d gotten your message.You thought to yourself.

Mentally, you kicked yourself for giving her any notice in the first place. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it, like she had successfully done the previous two times you’d tried moving back home.

“You got out, honey.” she’d say. “You got to do what I never did. You went to college, you got your degree, you moved to the city. Don’t throw that away. There ain’t nothin’ for you here.”

You hated that she referred to your hometown like that, the place that raised you: a place to get out of. Sometimes you missed it like you missed a limb.

And after your Gramma’s first stroke it had worked, no matter how guilty you felt for being states away while she recovered. 

It had been a minor stroke, the summer before your junior year of college. Not fatal, or with too many lasting health complications, but it had been enough to scare you. It had been enough to scare you into almost dropping out of college and moving home, but your mother and grandmother had insisted that you go back after she’d begun the road to recovery. 

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason you decided to go back, a small voice in the back of your head whispered.

 Two dark brown eyes danced in your mind's eye; freckles scattered sparsely across tan cheeks, a rumble of a laugh, the crackle of a tape on an old car radio. You dispelled it before you allowed your mind to wander further.

That’s in the past, you  insisted,  chastising that quiet voice trying to bring up old ghosts. 

You wouldn’t let your mind go there again. He left, you reminded yourself, instead resolving to focus on the road in front of you, and the nagging voice of your mother in your ear. 

She sighed your name.

“I told you not to come, honey. This is the whole reason we waited so long to tell you–”

“I’m already on the road, mom.” You interrupted her. “I moved out earlier this week, and I’m already on my way home. No use in trying to change my mind on this when it’s already done.” 

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were met with radio silence; Your mother was speechless. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. Secretly, inside you’re smug. You’ve managed to outsmart her.

“You’re on the road right now?” She asked in that familiar disapproving short tone.

“As we speak,” you shifted, holding the wheel with one hand and slouching in your seat. Your mother sighed again.

“Stop that,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice.

“Stop what, mama? Driving?”

“Stop sounding so smug,” She scolded in that tone that all mothers have perfected, before addressing you by your full name. “This is gonna upset your Gramma. The last thing she wanted was you putin’ your whole life on hold for this.”

“‘For this?’” You asked in disbelief. “Mama, I can’t believe you waited more than a whole month to tell me the cancer was back in the first place! As if it was none of my business!” 

You could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. 

“Now don’t be ridiculous.” She simpered. “We didn’t wanna upset you is all. And we certainly didn’t want you doin’ something so rash, like this.” 

You rolled your eyes. This woman was impossible. 

“Mom, I’d been considering leaving for a long time. My lease was up, Carla got married. This was just the final nail in the coffin. It was a long time comin’.”

“But you seemed so happy, baby.” she cooed. 

“I don’t care! I deserve to know if my grandma is dying or not, and you have no right to keep it from me!”

You were met with silence. It was your turn to sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I was just scared of something like this happening. You can’t expect me to believe that this whole thing didn’t cause you to up and move home out of the blue.”

“I know, mama, but it’s the truth.” You paused, before continuing, “I put in my notice weeks ago. I’ve missed home. A lot. The city is…so loud. And there are no mountains near Chicago. The land is so flat, and–”

“I know baby, I know.” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.

 She was no doubt calling from the landline in the kitchen at the old house. Thinking of it, your heart yearned. You missed it so much.

“It’s just that this was your dream, baby. And I just know your Gramma’s gonna blame herself for you giving that up.”

“Mom, I’m not giving anything up,” you emphasized the last part, trying to get it through her head. “I still have my dreams, Chicago just wasn’t it. It took me a while to realize that, but I have. And I have no idea where I wanna go or what I wanna do next, but I do know that I miss home. I was planning on coming back even before I found out.”

“Alright,” she began, but you wouldn’t let her continue. You needed to get this out. 

“And, that combined with the fact that Gramma’s cancer is back means there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.”

“Alright,” she sighed on the other line. “I suppose there’s nothin’ I can do about it now. How did you find out in the first place? You never mentioned in that hysterical voicemail you left–”

“I had reason to be hysterical, don’t you think? Findin’ out from Jimmy Logan and all.”

“Jimmy Logan?” she asked in surprise. “Now what were you doin’ talkin’ to him? Did he finally buck up and get a cell phone?”

“Yes, he did,” you chuckled, “Mellie finally convinced him. Anyway, after she helped him get his contacts in order, the first thing he did was give me a ring, saying how sorry he was to hear about Gramma bein’ sick again.”

“But how? I didn’t even tell Jimmy Logan. The only people we told were the ladies in prayer group.”

You laughed.

“Oh, you know how word gets around. Jimmy heard it from Earl at the hardware store, who heard it from Irene, who heard it from her momma, who, if I’m not mistaken, is in your prayer group.”

“Well,” your mother huffed. “I suppose that is how it goes. I’ll tell you one thing, your Gramma will be happy to see you, no matter the circumstance.”

“I know,” you sighed,  glad that the air was at least a little cleared between you. You were still hurt that she’d kept something as important as your Gramma’s illness from you, but you understood where she was coming from. She just wanted what was best for you, wanted you to have everything she didn’t.

“Speaking of them Logans,” your mom said. “Have you told her you’re coming home?”

You laughed into the phone.

“Yes, Mellie knows I’m coming home.” You were surprised that she’d even assumed you hadn’t told the youngest Logan about your returning. She’d kill you if you didn’t.

“Good. I know she’s missed you. Last week while she was doin’ my hair, she told me a girl’s weekend every few months and a phone call just wasn’t cutting it.”

Mellie’s face flashed in your mind, and the feeling of dread at returning home started to dissipate. She had that effect on you; Ever since you met nearly 20 years earlier. You smiled, as your mind drifted back to then.

1995

You’d never imagined coming to a new school would ever be this hard. You’d expected it to be like how you’d seen it happen in TV shows or books or those kids movies you liked so much; Where after a rocky start with school bullies, the new kid fell in with the perfect group of friends and everything was fine. That was what you’d anticipated: The melodrama, the excitement. What you hadn’t expected was the monotony and loneliness.

Entering the third grade in october–two and a half months into the term–was never easy. At least that’s what your grandma had told you, and her being your grandma, you were inclined to believe her. 

“It’s not gonna be easy,” she’d told you. “And kids can be real mean, darlin’. Especially when you’re new and they don’t know you. But, you just show them how kind, and special, and smart, and funny you are, and you won't have no problem fittin’ in.”

And you’d expected it to be that easy. Boy were you wrong.

On your first day at Daniel Boone Elementary, you’d expected to be met with a little wariness (what with being the new kid and all), but had hoped, in the end, to make at least one new friend to tell your mom and grandma about when you got off the bus and went home. Instead, you got the usual strange introduction to the class by your new teacher, and that was that. No kids even came up to talk to you. You ate your PB&J sandwich alone at lunch, and spent recess alone on the swings. 

The following months went by in a similar manner: no new friends in sight. All the girls in your class were either too preoccupied with your hand-me-down clothes to play with you, or too shy to. And the boys wanted nothing to do with the weird new girl with too-knobby knees and too-big teeth because even if you liked the exact same things as them, you were still a girl, which meant you had cooties. 

So, at home you’d drift away and pass your time the only time you knew how: through stories. Whether it be babysitters’ club books or PBS kids documentaries on your grandma’s old box TV, your head was always in the clouds. You’d be cryptic when your grandma or mom would ask about school, and they’d begun to notice. Before the snow came and the world froze over for winter, you’d also begun to explore the property behind your grandma’s house, getting lost in nature as you used to. 

By spring, your grandma was at a standstill. 

The snow was thawing, and after a winter indoors, she was at her wits end. She could recognize a depressive episode when she saw one, and the fact that she was seeing it in you, her eight-year-old granddaughter, made her heart break all the more.

She had been just about ready to call an intervention with the school’s principal and psychologist when it happened. You met the person who would change your life.

You’d met Mellie Logan once before, roughly a month after your arrival in Boone County, when you were still new enough to be considered the least bit interesting at Daniel Boone Elementary. She was a year older than you and about a head shorter, with the same shade of rich brown hair as the older boy you’d recognized her sit with on the bus; Her brother, Jimmy Logan who was a middle schooler, but not the least bit embarrassed to sit by his little sister on the ride home, tugging playfully on her braids. She was in Ms. Granfell’s class down the hall, with whom your class shared a recess and lunch time, along with some of the 6th graders. 

It had been on the bus that you’d had your brief first encounter with Mellie Logan. She and about five other kids got off a few stops before yours, down Elm street, and rather than the fact that she had one older brother, that was about all you knew about the girl, and that was all the thought you’d given to her. 

The encounter was a small one: your backpack had been in the aisle as the kids filed in from the school at the end of a school-day in early November and she’d muttered a quiet “pardon me,” as she passed you to her usual seat at the back of the bus where her brother was already seated, and that was that. You barely knew her.

Now, though, as you sat in the school principal’s office, bright fluorescent lights shining over the deep mahogany desk, you felt that all of that was going to change. Mellie sat beside you, eyebrows knit together obstinately as she stared directly ahead of her at the clock on the opposite wall, frowning.

It read: 1:23. You sighed.

That meant that you were missing library time with the rest of your class while being holed up in here, waiting while the principal made calls to each of your parents that they had to come pick you up and discuss the incident.

Your stomach sunk in annoyance as you crossed your arms and slumped down further into the armchair next to Mellie. 

 Great, now they have even more of a reason to think I’m weird, you thought. That was the last thing you needed. You were already having a hard time fitting in in the first place, with girls like Heather Campbell making faces at you and snickering when it was your turn to answer a question or read aloud to the class. You didn’t need to be known as the weird new girl who’d also gotten into a fight with a sixth grader. 

You groaned in realization that that was exactly what you’d be known as from now on. You ran a hand over your face. And just wait until your mom found out, until your Gramma found out. Your life was over.

At that, Mellie looked over at you, her formerly sour expression turned questioning at your sudden outburst.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, moving to sit on her hands. Her legs were swinging back and forth off of the edge of the seat of the chair. She looked more bored than anything else, which was wild to you, considering the insane amount of trouble you both were about to be in the moment your parents walked through that door.

You looked at her like she was insane, her freckled face a picture of nonchalance, and sighed. Your heart was at the pit of your stomach as you watched the small round clock tick by, each second drawing closer to what was bound to be the end of your eight years on this planet.

You hadn’t intended to get involved. You really hadn’t. But when you’d seen the trampled, embarrassed look in his deep brown eyes, you didn’t know what else you could do.

 It was, surprisingly, not in your nature to be confrontational at this point in your life. Though you’d later grow to be quite the headstrong person, the years spent walking around on eggshells with Keith had taken a toll on your personality. You liked to avoid conflict with even your family, nevertheless with the mean fourth graders you’d always hear snickering at people during lunchtime. But when you’d heard them picking on the lanky boy with messy dark hair something within you had snapped.

It was breakfast for lunch day, aka: the best day of the week, and when the bell rang  signaling the beginning of lunchtime you moved as fast as your legs could carry you to the cafeteria.

You stepped into the line behind a tall, lanky boy who had to be at least a few years older than you. You recognized him from your bus; He lived on the same street as Mellie and her brother, and like you, always sat by himself on the bus. You thought that he was probably the only kid who was as quiet as you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever even heard the stoic boy utter a word in the month and a half you’d spent riding home with him. His face always seemed to stay the same too, you’d noticed. 

Not that you’d been watching him, you corrected yourself.

Right now, though, the boy smiled at you as you came up behind him. A tight-lipped, shy one at that, but his dark eyes shone with genuine kindness that you were almost too flustered to know what to do. Such kindness, even small ones like this, had been few and far between in your time in Boone County. It’d been lonely, and this little boy’s smile made it feel a little less so. A part of you wondered if this town had been similarly lonely for him too. You smiled back.

The sound of giggling broke you from your blatant staring at the boy in front of you. Two girls had entered the line behind you. You didn’t know their names, but you recognized them from the time you had spent people-watching during your month or so of eating alone. The taller one was blonde, with long straight hair and thick braces covering her teeth as she smiled right past you and to the boy standing in front of you. Her counterpart was shorter and a bit stouter, with short pin-curls that practically stuck to her hair. Your stomach dropped as you took in the looks on both of their faces. Their smiles were anything but kind as they looked right through and onto the boy who was oblivious to what was coming.

You weren’t though. Just last week, you’d seen the pair of girls push a little girl in your class off of the monkey bars for “taking their spot,” when you knew for a fact that that girl had been there for all of recess already. Before that, you’d seen them ridicule another girl for her new haircut that had come out much shorter than expected until she cried. These were two girls you knew not to cross, and here they were, sights set on the boy in front of you whose name you didn't even know. And you were caught in the middle of it. 

“Uhm, excuse me?” The blonde girl asked, reaching across you and tapping the boy on the shoulder. Her face was twisted in barely held-in laughter, while beside her, her friend’s face held an identical.

The boy turned, eyes wide and curious. Kind. Unaware of exactly how nasty these two could be. 

“Y-yeah?” He asked, voice cracking when he stuttered. The blonde looked over to her friend and then back at him.

“Your name’s Clyde, right?” She asked, head tilting.

“Uhm, yeah, tha’s right.” He smiled, bashful. Ears twinged red.

Clyde. That was the boy’s name. It fit him, you thought. 

Her friend popped in. “Say, ain’t you a Logan?” She asked, face spread in what seemed like a kind smile. 

Something you didn’t buy. You thought as you grabbed an orange from the selection of fruit.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, moving down the line. He picked up a strawberry milk carton before moving further down where the french toast sticks were. You continued to eavesdrop, feeling the most awkward you had in a while as the conversation continued with you, quite literally, in the middle of it.

“Well, Clyde Logan,” the blonde continued, reaching for an identical carton of strawberry milk. Her face was smug. “There’s something Quinn and I have been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

“What’s that?” he asked, curious. He looked at her, eyes open and welcoming and you dreaded the next words that were going to come out of her mouth. It wasn’t gonna be good.

“We were just wondering,” she snorted halfway through, hand coming to her mouth. “Sorry, we were just wondering if you’d done something to upset your momma?”

He chuckled awkwardly, obviously confused, and flicked some dark hair behind his ear. “Pardon me?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Oh, nothin’. It’s just you had to have done something to have earned a haircut like that.”

Beside her, her friend had given up on controlling her laughter. Wheezing, her friend–Quinn–interjected.

“Or maybe your hairdresser hates you? What did you do to make someone let you walk out of the house like that?” She giggled.

“Don’t be silly, Quinn. The Logans can’t afford a hairdresser. It had to have been his momma. I mean, really Clyde, you had to have done somethin’ bad.” The blonde chimed in again.

“Although, maybe it’s not the haircut, Heather.” Quinn piped in casually, serving herself french toast. “That’s not fair to his momma. It’s those ears. They stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Mhm,” the blonde, heather, nodded. “I think you’re right. And his nose. It's so big. That’s what makes you so unfortunate looking. Not the hair at all.”

Clyde looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Surprise coloring his features, the smallest frown upon his lips.

“Or , you know what,” Heather considered, piling bacon onto her lunch tray. “It’s probably that curse your sister wouldn’t shut up about last year. What’d she call it?”

“The Logan Family Curse.” Quinn chimed in. Heather laughed. 

“That must be it!” She giggled in that snotty, preteen way. “Who knew that the Logan family curse was being cursed with bein’ uglier than a mud fence!”

“Or having ears the size of Dumbo’s.” 

Looking over at Clyde, you saw his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he looked down at his lunch tray. Crestfallen. It sent white hot anger surging through your chest, and before you could register it, you were turning to face the two girls beside you in line.

“Just because he has straight teeth and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be mean.” You glared at her. Her smug face morphed into one of anger as her eyes hardened into a glare.

“Excuse me?” she asked. Beside her, Quinn’s eyebrows rose to her hairline.

“You heard me, brace-face.” You stood your ground, glaring right back at her. She gasped at the insult, not ready for a taste of her own medicine. An identical look of horror crossed her companion’s face. From behind you, you heard a familiar high voice call out.

“Clyde? Where are you–” Mellie looked confused, her eyes following the lanky, dark-haired figure racing out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch tray deserted in line next to you. Her gaze hardened as she looked over at you and the two girls in line. She stomped over, arms crossed.

“What did you say to him?” She demanded, looking between you three. When no one spoke up, she asked again, louder.

“What did you say to my brother?” She seethed. Heather looked at Quinn, an amused smirk on her face. 

“Oh, you mean Dumbo?” She asked.

“Nothing–we just gave him some beauty advice,” Quinn descended into the same annoying laughter as her friend. 

What happened next was a blur to you. There was a hand in someone’s hair, another pushing someone's shoulder, and the sound of a hand smacking against someone’s face. You were pushed backwards–by who, you didn’t know–and your half-full lunch tray came down on top of you, covering you in scrambled eggs and syrup. Heather screeched like a banshee, and Quinn started crying. A lunch monitor ran over to break it up, and before you knew it, Heather was being sent to the nurse and you and Mellie to the principal’s office. 

Which brings you to now.

You sat, smelling of eggs and syrup, and waiting for your life to end. After a few minutes of silence, you looked to the scrappy, brooding girl next to you. 

“Did you have to hit her?” You asked, breaking the silence. Scoffing, she turned to look at you. 

“Uhm, yeah I had to hit her.” She spat out incredulously. “She was makin’ fun of my big brother. You don’t let people mess around with your kin.” 

“But–” you began before she interrupted you, seemingly not hearing you at all. That was something you’d grow to find out was a habit of hers whenever she talked about something she was passionate about. 

“And I’d do it again, too,” she said, stubbornly. “I don’t care what Mrs. Findlay says. If you ask me, Heather Campbell had it comin’ and needed to be knocked down a few pegs. I’m only sad I got caught.”

Her matter-of-fact made you giggle a little bit. After all, you couldn’t disagree with her; You’d seen Heather and Quinn unleash their wrath before. Many times in the short time you’d been in town. They needed to be put in their place. And you were glad you’d had at least a small part in doing it, even if it did put a target on your back and was bound to make your life hell indefinitely. 

“I am sorry you got involved, though,” Mellie said. “It ain’t fair you got roped into all a’ my trouble-makin’.” 

You chuckled a bit.

“Nah,” you sighed. “Before you walked up, I did say some pretty nasty things to them. I guess I deserved it.”

Mellie, looking surprised at that, snorted.

 “You?” she asked, eyes wide in apparent disbelief. “You said somethin’ to Heather Campbell?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” you asked, brows furrowed. “And yes, I’ll have you know, I did say something to her.”

“Nothin’.”  Mellie said, “it’s just that in all the time you’ve been here, I ain't heard you speak but about two times.”

“I couldn’t let her talk to him like that when he didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” You said. “Besides, I was tired of hearin’ her run her mouth all the time and no one sayin’ anything.”

“Well alrighty then.” She said.

 A beat of silence passed, the only sound being the ticking of the clock. Then, “what did you say to her?”

You snorted. 

“I called her brace-face.” You admitted sheepishly. Beside you, Mellie howled in laughter and after a moment, you joined her.

“You know,” she said pensively, smiling at you, all trace of a sour mood gone, “I think we’re gonna be good friends.”

You smiled back at her, the first real one in a while. 

“Me too.” And you meant it. 

Present Day

Your mother’s voice snapped you back to reality. 

“And what about him?” she asked carefully, words thick with meaning. “Does he know you’re comin’ back?”

You sighed. “Mama, why would he know I’m coming back? Why would he care that I’m coming back?”

“Darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“He didn’t bother telling me when he came back. I had to find out from Mellie, a month after the fact.” You continued, that familiar white-hot feeling in your chest resurfacing. “Besides, I’m sure Mellie mentioned it to him. She’d have to if he’s gonna continue this disappearing act of his.”

“That’s not fair, baby, and you know it.” She scolded, ever the mother. It didn’t matter that you were twenty-five, she’d always put you in your place when it came down to it. “He’s been through a lot.”

“I’m sure he has,” you agreed half-heartedly. 

“And–”

“--Not that I’d know about it! He hasn’t spoken so much as a word to me in years. Not for lack of trying on my part either, you know that mom.”

“I know, baby, I know,” she said. This was a conversation you’d had before. And no matter how many times you did, she’d always brought up the same points. 

And now, Clyde Logan had been home for more than two years, but felt like a ghost. Your family hadn’t heard a thing from him. According to your cousin Zach, Jimmy had wanted to throw a coming-home party for him, but had canceled it last minute. You didn’t know what he was doing now.

You knew better than to ask Mellie about it. She was your best friend, yes, but you wouldn’t put her in that position. You wouldn’t make her choose sides or play middle-man between you and her brother. And she knew better than to bring it up with you, too. She saw her brother’s idiocy, and, more importantly, she saw how hurt you were after all that had happened. 

So, Clyde generally wasn’t brought up between the two of you. Not in great detail, anyway. No matter how much you knew she had to reign herself in over it. Your best friend was a fixer at heart, and that instinct didn’t go away when it came to her best friend and her brother. 

“Let’s just drop it, mom.” You said. “I am not coming home for Clyde Logan, of all people. I’m just happy to be coming home at all.” 

“Well, that makes two of us.” she laughed lightly on the other end. “How far out are you?” she asked.

“I’m about halfway through Indiana right now.”

“Whew,” she whistled. “What a drive.”

You laughed at her sarcasm. “Oh yeah, nothin’ but cornfields for miles. That  is somethin’ I won’t be missing, that’s for sure.”

“Good.” she said, “You’d better get a move-on if you wanna be home before dinner, then. I’ll call your cousins and see who can make it.”

Your heart leapt at the thought of it, seeing the family again. You’d missed living in the same county as them all; Not having to drive hours to hug your grandma, to hear your aunt Nikki’s laugh, or to engage in yet another political conversation with your uncle Mike. 

“That sounds perfect.”

“Alright then. Your Gramma’s gonna be surprised, that’s for sure. And i’m warnin’ you now: She will not be as easily swayed as I am at your comin’ back.”

“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. “I’ll start preparing my speech now.”

“You better!” She laughed, “I’m gonna let you go, babe. Call your aunts. Love you.”

“Love you too, momma.” You sighed, as the call ended. 

The late May sun shone through the clouds, as you steered off of the freeway to continue south. Toward home. 

- - 

It was well past seven in the evening before everyone left your grandmother’s house—and, I guess, your house too, for now—for dinner. 

It had worked: you’d made it home, finally, and even though your grandmother wasn’t happy with you for returning, she understood why. It’d been too long since you’d been home for more than a week or two. Even longer, if you didn’t count the summers you’d come home during college. 

After Clyde had left for his third tour, things weren’t the same. You always hosted holidays after that, or visited your extended family in Charleston. You’d missed your hometown, yes. But the pain you felt at how you and Clyde left things hurt you more. Only now, after six months of therapy and the terrifying possibility that your grandmother was dying, did you feel even remotely comfortable enough to come back. 

Now, after a long, loud meal with your extended family, you wondered why you’d left at all. The anxiety you’d felt driving into the county limits earlier that evening had dissipated. Home has a funny way of doing that: letting you ease right back in like you’d never left. 

Your cousins were getting bigger—now nearly teenagers—and your aunts inquired about your personal life over dinner. Now, after the coffee had gone cold and your last relative had gone home, you helped your grandmother with the dishes—much to her chagrin. 

Your grandmother was a kind woman, a gentle woman, but she was also a proud woman, and more stubborn than even you.

“Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean I’m inept, you know,” she slapped your hand away from where it had tried to venture into the soapy water of the sink. 

You sighed. So she’s still mad. 

“I know, Gramma,” you offered. “Just trying to help.”

She grumbled back, still focusing on scrubbing the plate in front of her. 

You gave up, moving instead to dry and put away the dishes she’d washed. As you began, she didn’t so much as spare you a glance, just hummed under her breath. 

The kitchen looked untouched from it had been growing up—the linoleum counters, tiled walls, and deep wood of the cabinets perpetually stuck in the 1970s. Some of the glassware your grandmother owned was from the seventies, or even before then, going back to when your mom and uncles were kids. You could tell from old family pictures that the house had changed little since they bought it in 1969. Even after so many years, your Gramma had refused to invest in a dishwasher, insisting on washing dishes by hand instead. 

You took a ceramic plate from the drying rack, toweling it off before opening the cabinet to put it away. The cabinet door had the same creak it always did. 

“You know,” you tossed over your shoulder at your grandmother. “I was planning on coming back for a while before I heard about the cancer.” 

“That’s what you keep sayin’,” she mumbled. “I can see right through ya, though, darlin’. You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t been home in years?” 

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the pang of guilt her words sent through you. 

“I’m sorry about that, Gramma, I am—“

“Oh, hush,” she waved a suds-covered hand at you, still not turning around. “Long as I get to see you, I don’t care where it is. What I’m trying to say is: you certainly would not have come home had it not been for my diagnosis.” 

You deflated a little; in a sense, she was right. You’d been considering returning before, that was true, but part of you deep down knew you wouldn’t have been successful if you hadn’t heard about her sickness. 

“What I can’t live with is you giving up your dreams for an old woman like me.”

You scoffed at that, coming up behind her and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. 

“Please,” you mumbled into the hug. “You couldn’t have kept me away. I would’ve found out at some point.” 

She sighed, hugging you back and leaning into you. 

“‘Suppose you’re right,” she acquiesced. “Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta be happy about it though.” 

“That’s fair,” you chuckled, letting go and taking another plate from the drying rack. “But you can’t get mad at me. It should be me angry at you for keeping it from me for as long as you did.”

She turned to you then, wiping her wet hands off with a towel. There was a strange look in her eyes as she took you in, eyeing you head to toe. She snapped out of it after a moment and offered you a smile. 

“Hm,” she hummed, bringing a weathered hand to cup your cheek. “I couldn’t stay angry at you even if I tried.”

You smiled cheekily at her. 

“I know.”

“Hm,” she chuckled, pinching your cheek lightly and patting it. “Now let me finish these up. Mellie’ll be here soon and you haven’t even taken your suitcase up yet.”

You nodded and put the last plate away. 

“I’ll turn the radio on for you,” you smiled. “It’s too quiet around here.”

“Alright sugar,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You won’t be sayin’ that come Monday. I’ve got your cousins after school most weekdays. And I thought you were a handful.” 

You chuckled. 

One thing about your family was true: none of you were boring—especially the little ones. They kept your grandmother on her toes. 

“I’m looking forward to that,” you chuckled. That was another thing you regretted about moving so far away: not being there to watch your little cousins grow up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said. “You might be reconsidering moving back after a few days.”

“Unlikely,” you snorted. “I’m hard to scare off. Well, now anyway.”

Your grandmother sent you a sympathetic smile then, and you knew she’d forgiven you. You twitched a little under her gaze. She almost looked like she pitied you. You understood if she did; she was the one to bear the brunt of your heartache when everything between you and Clyde had blown up. Still, it wasn’t a time you liked to dwell on. 

“So, you think you’re finally over that Logan boy?” She asked, crossing her arms and facing you.

You sighed; it was just like your grandmother to not mince words or beat around the bush.

“Jesus, Gramma,” you raked a hand over your face. 

“What?” she asked defensively. “Would you rather me tip-toe around you like everyone else? Your mama won’t ask, and you’ve banned Mellie from mentioning that boy.”

“So you thought you’d…” your words trailed off, not understanding exactly why she was bringing this up now. 

“I thought I’d mention the elephant in the room. Call it curiosity, sugar,” she smirked at you. “I just figured that since he was the one that kept you away for so long—”

“Gramma, you know he’s not the only reason l left—”

“I know, I know,” she held up a hand to stop you. “But I remember how you were when you left. In the months before. Barely leaving the house, not talking to anyone. Whatever he did, it did a number on you. I don’t want you getting like that again—”

You softened. She was worried about you, of course she was. Your grandmother was nothing if not a mama bear. 

“Trust me, Gramma. You do not have to worry Clyde Logan of all people. I’ve been over it for a while, I think. I’ll be okay.”

“Hm,” she scrutinized you through narrowed eyes, before nodding. “Alright. I won’t bring it up again.”

“Thanks, Gramma.”

“You ever gonna tell me all that happened with him?” 

“Maybe one day,” you smiled at her sadly. 

She nodded at you in understanding. 

“Alright, babydoll. You go get ready.”

As you walked up the familiar steps to your childhood bedroom, listening to Patsy Cline drift through the old kitchen radio, you smiled to yourself at the familiarity of it all.

- - 

“Trust me,” Camila grabbed your shoulder from the back of Mellie’s ‘85 silverado—her pride and joy and newest fixer upper. “This place is great, and it helps that we don’t have to drive all the way to Madison like we did back in the day.”

You snorted at how your friends were trying to sell you on this new dive bar. Where you’d wanted to go out in Madison like the old days, they’d insisted you stay local tonight.

You shifted in the denim cut-offs that Mellie had insisted you wear. You hadn’t worn them out since your senior year of college. Hell, you hadn’t been out since your senior year of college.

She’d showed up at your door at exactly eight o’clock on the dot, intent on getting you dolled up for a night out. Camila and Gwen, two of your best friends from high school, had shown up soon after. It was like old times—playing your old CDs, the smell of cheap perfume and hair-straighteners flooding your childhood bedroom. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be nervous about going out. Now, two hours later with a new outfit and your hair and makeup done to perfection, you were off to check out the newest haunt in town. 

It’d been big news when the place had opened about nine months ago. It wasn’t every day that a new business opened in Logan, so obviously it was the talk of the town. Even you’d heard about it all the way in Chicago. Duck Tape was its name and it had been renovated into a bar from an old bait and tackle shop. And apparently, since its opening, it’d become a staple of your small community. You’d been promised that you’d run into at least five people from high school here, maybe more. It was also in the middle of nowhere. 

“We’re basically driving the same distance, Cami.” You laughed. From beside you in the driver’s seat, Mellie smirked. 

“Don’t rain on her parade.” She teased. “Cami’s just trying to explain away the real reason why she came here: she’s got it bad for the bouncer.”

Camila gasped and smacked Mellie’s shoulder. 

“That isn’t it at all, Mellie Logan and you know it!”

“Mmhm,” Gwen nodded from the other side of her, very obviously not buying any of it. “It has nothing to do with the six-feet, tall, dark, and handsome bouncer. I believe you, Cami.”

You laughed at her sarcasm. 

“I don’t know why you don’t put yourself out of your misery and just get his number,” Mellie asks from the front seat, looking at Cami through the rearview mirror. 

“And risk rejection? Not a chance.”

You snorted at that, understanding completely. You’d had a few non-serious relationships here and there, but nothing that had stuck during your time in Chicago. And even then, they were alway the ones who had to make the first move. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted. “Since when do any of these places need bouncers?”

When you were in high school, it was a given that no one underage would even try to get into a bar in Logan. It would have been pointless: everybody knew everybody here, so even if you had the good sense to get a fake ID, you’d be at the sheriff’s station before you had time to order your first drink.

“Since these kids are gettin’ more and more ballsy,” Gwen answered you. “‘Bout a year ago coach Garrison’s kid got busted for drinking underage at Tulman’s. Ever since, they’ve been IDing at the door.”

Tulman’s was the other bar in town, nestled in the heart of downtown. 

“I bet coach was pissed.”

“You have no idea,” Cami nodded, picking at her manicured nail. “Gave hell to the guy who owns the place. That’s just another reason why I like Duck Tape better.”

Gwen groaned from beside her. Mellie just laughed. 

Mellie sighed beside you, reaching for the gear-shift. “Just ask him out. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

“Oh please,” Cami laughed, speaking up over the sound of Garth Brooks’ voice coming from the speakers. “Stick to hairdressing, Mel. You’d make a shit motivational speaker.” 

A chorus of laughs sounded as Mellie took a sharp turn off of the highway and onto the mountain road where the bar was. 

This was so familiar: you and your girlfriends, all dressed up and piling into one car to go out as if you were somewhere glamorous like New York City and not in Boone County, West Virginia. The chatter of the girls around you was comforting, and you relished in it. 

This, you thought. This is home.

- - 

You dropped your glass when he walked in, brushing past the bouncer with a large hand on his shoulder. Your stomach dropped.

The glass shattered at your feet, sending cranberry juice and vodka splattering over your boots and calves. A few people surrounding you jumped as well, moving away from the shattered glass on the floor. Beside you, Camila started. 

“Jesus,” she cried, grabbing your bare shoulder and looking at you. She was trying to get your attention, you knew, but you couldn’t bring your eyes away from the imposing figure of Clyde Logan, who just walked into the bar. “You okay? What—shit.”

She saw him too. 

“Mellie,” you heard her whisper, trying to get the attention of your friend who was too-busy flirting with a man in a stetson beside you. Gwen was in the bathroom. “Mellie.” 

He was tall—just as tall as he’d always been, but even more imposing. His shoulders stretched broadly across the dark blue button-up he had on. He wore worn blue jeans and work boots and still had that stiff, ramrod-straight posture that he’d come back from basic training with. You blinked. 

He was here. He was here. 

Even after years, he had an effect on you. You felt stuck to the floor, frozen in place as he made his way to the bar, his left side facing away from you. His dark hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, curling around his ears and down his neck thickly. You couldn’t tell much from the dim-lighting, but you could detect a bit of a stubble along his jaw and above his lip. 

Lord have mercy, he was beautiful. 

He was gorgeous–even more so than you remembered him. It made your chest ache.

“What?” Mellie turned to Cami, a flirty laugh in her voice.

“Look.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke. 

“Fuck.” Mellie spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. He said he wasn’t working tonight.”

You breathed in a ragged breath, everything feeling all of a sudden too much. The neon lights, the chatter of people from all sides of you invaded your senses. The early summer heat was cloying at your skin in the crowded bar. You felt boxed in on all sides. 

“I’m just going to,” you mumbled, finally tearing your eyes away from Clyde, who was talking to the man behind the bar. You didn’t finish the sentence, instead electing to train your gaze on your boots and try to make your way to the bar door. 

Behind you, you heard Mellie call your name. You ignored her, breathing deeply as you tried to navigate your way to the door. 

Air, you told yourself. I need some air. Then I’ll be fine. 

You tried to push yourself past a particularly large group, squeezing between two peoples’ backs. One of them moved backwards, their foot moving to step in front of yours.

Your boot caught on the foot, and you tumbled forward, losing your balance. 

You tripped, scrambling, reaching out with your arms to break your fall as you tumbled.

Only, instead of continuing to fall to the ground, you stumbled into something. Or rather, someone. 

Your hands landed on a broad chest, and you felt an arm snake its way around your middle, attempting to steady you. You let out a breath, finding your footing. 

You brought your gaze up, an apology on your lips.

“Shit,” you mumbled, pulling your hands back from the stranger’s chest frantically. “I’m sorry—”

Brown eyes stared back at you, brows drawn together and full of confusion. Freckles scattered familiarly across his cheekbones and his lips parted as he looked at you. 

Clyde. 

You took a large step back, away from him, nearly stumbling again. He looked nearly as shocked as you felt, wide eyes taking you in from head to toe. After all, it had been over two years since you’d seen each other. 

You did the same—eyes moving down his thick neck, his broad shoulders, down his chest. He was still so much taller than you.

This was all too much. 

You could feel the panic setting back in your bones, and you blinked rapidly, moving to shove past him to the door, your legs carrying you before your mind could catch up.

When you did, he snapped out of it, moving to the side to block you and shoulder-checking you in the process. When he did, something firm and stiff—foreign—jabbed into your stomach, causing you to jerk away, even more past him.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you turned to see—

What you saw made the breath leave your chest. 

There, strapped to what remained of Clyde’s arm was a prosthetic. 

- - 

Tears fell thick and hot down your cheeks as you rested your face between your knees on the side of the dingy bar. The rough wood of the paneling on the outside of the bar dug into your back through the thin shirt Mellie had convinced you to wear, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your mind was elsewhere.

Gone. Clyde’s left arm was gone–or at least part of it was. 

Hurt flooded your chest at the thought of it; your once-best friend returning home from war, part of him missing, alone, and you weren’t there. He’d had to do it alone.

Another wave of tears came. 

How could you not have known?

Everyone knew everything about everyone in Logan. It was the way of things and it always had been. It was how you’d found out about your Gramma’s illness, it was how word had spread like wildfire when Mellie’s boyfriend in tenth grade cheated on her, and it was how the whole town knew Bobbie Jo was pregnant with Sadie before Jimmy did. But this. 

It struck you all at once; everyone knew. Of course everyone knew. Camila, Gwen, Mellie. Your mother. They all had known and still didn’t tell you. 

You felt like someone had torn your heart from your chest. 

The sound of gravel crunching under boots tore your gaze up. You knew who it was before he called your name. You’d know the sound of his step anywhere. 

Clyde Logan walked toward you, arms clasped behind his back, dark eyes wary. He always looked like this when he was nervous. Even now, you couldn’t believe he was standing before you after so long. Even now, you couldn’t contain the slow simmer of anger that flared in your gut at the sight of him.

He stood there a minute, eyes on yours, before he cleared his throat. 

“How…uh, how long you been back?” He offered softly, eyes never once leaving yours. 

The slow simmer in your gut reached a boil. You stood to your feet, lip curling at him. You didn’t care enough to wipe your face of tears.

“Really?” You asked harshly, voice slightly raised. Clyde flinched at your tone. “That’s what you have to say to me Clyde Logan—after three years?”

Clyde bit his lip and looked down. He sighed. 

“Junebug—-”

“Do not,” you hissed at him, glaring up at his pained expression. “You do not get to call me that anymore.”

He just stared at you, a pained expression on his face. 

It didn't surprise you—Clyde had never had a way with words. Even as kids, even as best friends, it had been hard for him to express himself. He was quiet. Now was no exception. 

“Did you get my letters?” You hated that your voice warbled. 

Clyde’s eyes fell to his boots and you knew the answer from the guilty expression that crossed his face. 

You scoffed, even more anger bubbling inside you at the confirmation. 

After the fight—the one that sent you packing, right before his third deployment, you’d written him. Countless times, apologizing, explaining yourself, begging him for a response, anything. And you’d never heard anything back. 

“I wrote you for months, Clyde.” You said, voice softer now. “When you were over there, I had to get updates from Mellie. Or from my mom, because you wouldn’t write me back. You wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if you—”

You stopped yourself, sniffing. 

You stared at his prosthetic arm, finally able to get a better look at it.

 It began just under his elbow, strapped on there to give the illusion of a full-limb. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. 

“Ugly, ain’t it?” He asked, noting how your stare held there. Your eyes snapped to his. 

You scoffed, ignoring him and looking away. 

“I didn’t say that,” you muttered, drying your face with your palm.

“I told Mellie not to tell you,” he blurted. “After. Made her swear not to. Don’t be mad at her.”

You sighed. 

You weren’t angry at her; you couldn’t be. Shortly after you’d realized he wanted nothing to do with you, you’d made any talk of Clyde strictly off-limits in your friendship. Even if she’d wanted to tell you, it was off limits. That was not the case, however, with your own family.

You’d be having words with your mother and grandmother when you returned home. 

“My relationship with Mellie is none of your business,” you glared up at him. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Clyde scoffed now, the soft, reserved look gone from his eyes and replaced by annoyance. 

“What?” you asked. “You got something to say? Say it.”

“Fine,” he barked. “Three years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

Oh, so he was pulling that card, you thought, thinking back to your last argument. You laughed humorlessly. 

“Oh, I haven’t changed?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “At least I had the balls to come back! At least I’m not a coward like you—”

“Coward?” He asked, voice low. 

“You heard me.” You spat, voice warbling again with anger. You hated that you got like this; whenever you were angry, you’d cry. “At least I have the stones to face my mistakes. I don’t run away from them, Clyde.” 

With that you walked away, leaving him standing there in the gravel of the Duck Tape parking lot. 

He made no move to follow you, thank god. 

You decided to call it a night, knowing any chance of letting loose was long gone. Though you weren’t angry with her, you didn’t think you could face Mellie or the girls again tonight. You pulled your cell phone from your bag and sent a quick text to the group chat, telling them you’d decided to head home. You sent a separate one to Mellie, telling her you weren’t mad at her but you needed some time. 

You walked back to the front of the bar, leaning on the wood of the front railing, and stared at the phone screen. Your mother and grandmother would be asleep by now, and even if they weren’t, you weren’t sure you wanted to see them anyway. You could always call your cousins—but doing that would open up the door to countless questions and speculations at why you were leaving Duck Tape looking an emotional wreck. 

Then, it hit you.

You found the contact easily and hit call; there was one person who you knew you could call whenever, wherever to come get you, no questions asked. You just hoped he was up.

[sacklerscumrag]

a little snippet of my single dad!clyde logan x nanny!reader i've been writing (this is probably my oldest WIP ajsfnhsjafj) ....

Things with Clyde hadn't simmered down in the slightest. Every interaction, every glance, every accidental touch had your yearning growing. Every moment spent together allowed you to quietly admire something new about him. The way his chest filled out those t-shirts he often wore, his hair that begged to have your fingers tangled in it, or even how he pursed his lips in that way that had your core clenching whenever he spoke. Not to mention, seeing him with Lyla made your knees weak. This gentle giant's soft demeanor melted your heart while twisting your insides in the most delicious way. Still, Lyla kept you more than busy; otherwise, you'd spend your days daydreaming about Clyde Logan. Today was no different. Building forts and baking cookies had been the first thing on the itinerary, and knowing Lyla, there was always more to come. When she'd finally fallen asleep watching Cinderella on the couch, you carefully tucked her into her bed and quietly exited the room, shutting the door just as Clyde entered the trailer.

"Hey." You whispered as Clyde set down his stuff and went to the kitchen. "I just put her to bed."

"Thanks. Sorry, 'M late. Bar kept gettin' crazy n' I just couldn't get away. It's-" You cut him off by placing a hand on his arm, feeling him tense under you.

"Clyde, it's okay. That's what I'm here for, remember?" You winked at him before walking toward the kitchen to put away the rest of the dishes. Clyde headed to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Your cheeks warmed, watching him lean over with one sturdy arm on the fridge door, the muscles on his back rippling under the worn-down t-shirt while the two bottles fit snuggly in his large hand. Get it together, you told yourself, forcing your gaze away.

"Beer?" Clyde gestured toward you. "I was jus' gonna have one on the porch." The words tumbled from his mouth without realizing. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. You looked all comfortable, your books and blanket on his couch, standing here in his kitchen, in his home, moving around like you belonged there. But Clyde wasn't stupid; his head was definitely playing tricks on him. There wasn't a universe that existed where a woman as beautiful as you would be interested in a guy like him, and he understood that. Now the only problem was keeping his heart and dick in check long enough to be professional. 

[jynzandtonic]

Ooooo how would any/all of the boys react to turning 40???

*Sigh* 40 is a damn fine age. Please accept these snaccs:

Charlie Barber: Henry's all set up to stay with his cousins for the week so you two can get away to the little villa he's booked in Tuscany for the two of you. You'll have the whole time to drink red wine, make homemade pasta, and fuck in the sunshine on the deck off the master bedroom.

Clyde Logan: He feels so damn lucky to be alive, to be with you. Growin' up with Jimmy, two tours in Iraq, all his adventures and misadventures, and he's finally settled down with you and happy as can be. All he wants is to sit with ya on the porch swing and watch the sunset with a beer in hand—but he won't say no to the butterscotch cake ya baked him.

Adam Sackler: Can't really believe he's fuckin' forty. He promises to put some of his commercial money in an IRA and take enough of a break from acting for a little staycation to fuck on every surface of your apartment together.

Flip Zimmerman: You sure you don't want to have a baby, sugar?

Phillip Altman: Perpetual man child. He offers to get matching cougar tattoos with you.

Rick Smolan: Motorcycle tour of Vietnam together, letting you take photos on his DSLR while you ride on the back of his bike.

Ronnie Peterson: Cabo San Lucas with you and all your friends. He wants to drink daiquiris, sing karaoke, and maybe get a sunburn at a nude beach!