#clyde's face is also giving me trouble

[acreekinthenight]

trying to keep working on this wip since i can't write right now...

[zahri-melitor]

Thinking about Tim’s morality, what always gets to me is that Tim clearly developed it on his own, within his own rules of ethics, because we know how often Tim worked without Bruce or Dick from the very first stories.

Tim saw a problem with Bruce and sought out Dick to help.

Tim’s next story with Dick involves Tim showing up on Dick’s doorstep and claiming Bruce told him to learn how to be a Robin from Dick (which seems…dubious, given the rockiness of Dick and Bruce’s relationship at that stage).

After Tim received his costume and before his proper ‘first patrol’, Tim was on his own in Paris, having to make decisions on who to trust and listen to between Lynx, Clyde Rawlins, Lady Shiva, Edmund Dorrance and Henri Ducard.

Tim went out to track down Joker because he’d broken out and Bruce wasn’t available because he was overseas at the time. Against the advice of Alfred. While being a tiny Robin.

Tim chose to work with Helena and Steph and Lonnie and JPV and Selina, even when Bruce told him not to, even when he was hiding working with them from Bruce. And when they worked with him, Tim was very clear on what his ethical framework looked like and most of the time those he was working with compromised to follow Tim’s views on killing. But also - Tim was the one choosing to work with them, showing flexibility in comparison to how Bruce would have preferred him to act.

Tim was set by Bruce to teach Jean-Paul Valley how to be a vigilante in Gotham, when he was 14 years old and had only been a vigilante for a couple of months in universe. He didn’t have Bruce backing him up (because Bruce was firstly busy and then recovering overseas from serious injury). He didn’t really have Alfred (who was focused on Bruce). He didn’t have Dick (because Dick’s life was similarly in the end stages of falling apart in New York). He had himself and his wits and what assistance Harold could give him, trying to show JPV how they worked and then later trying to rein in JPV after being punched in the face and Azbats going off the rails.

His ethics can’t be following someone else’s cues (the ‘list on the fridge from Bruce’ joke) because Tim had to work it all out for himself with Bruce barely around and often not focused on him. He didn’t have a Batfam around him when he was starting out until he built one.

His ethics can’t be ‘two seconds from killing’ because if Tim needed to be restrained from killing, that would have become noticeable back when he was working with Lady Shiva and Henri Ducard. Before he even really was Robin.

If Tim was dogmatic and unable to compromise and hung up on the rules being the rules, he would never have teamed up with Steph and Shiva and Helena and Selina, all people he got into trouble for working with.

It’s just such a misreading of Tim’s fundamental character and how he built his own moral code and decided what was important to him largely independently of anyone else. Tim doesn’t kill, and one of the fundamental reasons he doesn’t is because he chose not to and he sees it as a line too far.

He worked that out on his own.

[oniikabuto]

hi i hope this doesnt seem annoying bc i have never requested anything from ppl IDK it makes me anxious 😭 but ur one bed for sp was so cute i adore ur writing !!! do u think u could do it for craigs gang + butters?

one bed! part 2

-- sfw --

part one (main 4 boys)

characters: butters stotch, craig tucker, tweek tweak, tolkien black, jimmy valmer, clyde donovan

a/n: you arent annoying at all dws!! ty for being my first request this is monumental. oh and i wasnt sure if tweek counted as part of craigs gang or not but i adore him so i made one for him. also thank you!!!!!! ;; also jimmy is so underrated i love him so much mwagh

notes: i cant write clyde for shit idk he has no personaluty sorry i love him though; same character dynamic as part 1 (mutual pining, character has a crush on the reader)

— ⛧ b. stotch

complains that it's past his bedtime, but gives in because he wants to spend time with you.

"it's past nine already!"

"well.. yeah. it isn't that late, butters."

"but i always sleep at nine!"

but he'll sit through movies with you anyways because he has a fat crush on you.

except when the end credits start rolling, you look over at butters and he's curled up in a ball, snoring.

you don't have the heart to wake him up, so you quietly shut your laptop and move it off your bed.

he'll probably get in trouble for not coming home at all, but his parents trust you enough. you can probably talk them out of grounding him tomorrow morning.

"butters", you whisper. "leo, you gotta move."

he rolls over, half-asleep and dazed. "huh..?"

"you're staying with me tonight. scoot over."

"o-oh, jeez, okay", he blushes when he feels the warmth of you next to him.

"night, butters."

he's probably praying he doesnt wet the bed he would actually die

murmurs in his sleep and talks about nonsense

drools like a puppy

probably goes mimimimimi like in the cartoons /j

you will wake up with his arm around you. if you move it, he'll find his way back again in his sleep

looks like a baby when he sleeps its so funny you cant help but take photos



— ⛧ c. tucker

you turn around to tell him it's getting late and ask if he needs a ride home

and he's dead asleep. on the floor. textbook over his lap. snoring very softly.

like no wonder it's been so quiet... as you were doing your homework, craig was asleep on your floor.

you felt so bad having to wake him up to move him to your bed

"craig, i'm so sorry. i got distracted, i didn't mean to-"

"it's fine. just let me sleep in the corner. i like your plushies", he yawns.

so he sleeps in the corner against the wall, and you sleep on the outside to make sure he doesn't roll right off the bed.

if you weren't there, he definitely would have bc when you wake up, he's smushed into you.

how can he breathe???

he also violently gnashes his teeth and it's very startling (my brother did that as a kid and i would almost pee myself in fear)

and he'll randomly put his hand somewhere like your face?????? the way he does it is so funny because it always seems like he's wide awake but you look over and he's mouth breathing and sound asleep

yeah he's a mouth breather

it's okay he's a cutie



— ⛧ t. tweak

passes the fuck out from coffee. like CRASHES

"yeah and then i was telling kyle about how- tweek, you okay?"

"tired....... can i go.....mmfjkg"

like at a certain point past 1am he just turns into a dead slug

poor thing

you just send him up to your bedroom and get him a change of clothes so that he doesn't have to sleep in a button-up

except by the time you get up to your room, he's dead asleep.

you don't bother trying to wake him up, since you've never seen him sleep so peacefully.

he's curled up on his side, face buried in your plushies.

you scoot in next to him, so close that you can smell the milky coffee lingering in his hair.

it's kinda nice

in the middle of the night you wake up to a really strange noise.

it's tweek

he's doing this weird clicky thing with his tongue in his mouth in his sleep

like. okay?????? you go back to sleep

and then he flings his whole arm over and WHACKS you hard in the face

"TWEEK??"

"nhg..,"

he just randomly jerks in his sleep, wakes up for a second and falls back asleep

it's very startling

sometimes you have to hold him down with your arms

he loves it



— ⛧ t. black

actually a super chill guy to sleep with

he's enjoyable to have over

you'll both be studying for midterm exams next week, and he yawns

"it's like. ten. do you just wanna spend the night here?"

"is that, uh- is that okay with you?"

"yeah, my room's upstairs. i'll meet you up there in a sec"

he'll text his mom that he's spending the night because he's actually responsible

gets a little embarassed to sleep in your bed

but a win is a win

gets a LOT embarassed when you get in bed with him

falls asleep pretty fast actually

he's a relatively normal sleeper

spends like 30 minutes in the bathroom washing his face and stuff before he goes to bed

"do you have cleanser?"

sleeps like a rock

except for when he randomly talks

like TALKS. clear as day

scares you shitless

"y/n."

'tolkien??? are you up still??"

"why would you do that."

"do what??"

"grape juice"

and then he'd roll over and go back to sleep

does not remember any of his nighttime conversations in the morning

"i said that? are you sure?"



— ⛧ j. valmer

fell asleep on your couch in the middle of a horror movie

to your dismay

because when you turned away from the screen and grab at him in fear, he's SNORING. his ass is SNORING as the clown violently murders the main character.

"jimmy!"

"what?"

you just make a jokingly-angry face at him.

"it's late. can't i ju-just stay h-h-here?"

"well- i mean, sure, but you can't just sleep on the couch, dude. come up to my room, i'll show you."

"re-really?"

grins ear to ear

hes so down bad for you

almost implodes when you lean his crutches against the door and make sure they won't fall

DOES implode when you get in next to him

he smells like dish soap but in a good way

like citrus

you tell him so, and to that he makes a stupid "orange-you happy i'm here" joke

"jimmy, go to sleep."

"f-fine."

makes sure he's got the elastics for his braces in

in the middle of the night he'll whisper your name

"y/n r u still up"

"yeah what"

"i just thought of something really funny"

it gets old so fast but it's okay he's cute



— ⛧ c. donovan

crashes at 8pm after insisting he can pull an all-nighter

refuses to get up unless you drag him by his ankles

and even then he'll lay on the floor like a dead fish

so you just let him stay

meticulously brushes his hair sideways with wet fingers to make sure he doesn't wake up with a bedhead in front of you

he does anyway.

you walk up behind him as he moves his hair "whatcha doin?"

he jumps THREE FEET and whirls around

"nothing!" as if he's hiding a government secret or sum

once you guys r in bed he stops acting all tough and cool and just freaks out

his back will be turned but he's beet red

breathes really loudly when he falls asleep

and sleeps in ATROCIOUS positions

you'll wake up with his foot on your chest and the blanket flipped upside down

someone needs to belt this boy down to the bed or something

he's really a cute sleeper though

sometimes you wake up and see him face-down in a pillow and move him over to make sure he doesn't like. suffocate

and then he wakes up to you on top of him with no context

"....y/n?"



[archivxx]

✯[0.07]✯

Previous || Next

Note: Clyde and I have absolutely nothing in common. This wouldn’t be an issue except we have to spend at least 10 minutes every Thursday together.

You arrived to fake dating Thursday late and in the foulest of moods. You had missed your alarm to wake up and nothing seemed to be going your way since opening your eyes. Your phone hadn’t charged over night. There was no instant coffee left—thank god you were about to be in a coffee shop—and you couldn’t find the words for your pitch to Pete Thelman.

You paused outside the doors of the shop. Taking a moment to breathe and organise your thoughts. You took one last deep breath and slapped on the best smile you could conjure. You needed to be at home working on your pitch, working with the band on the pitch organising stuff. Not waisting your time in a coffee shop on a coffee you didn’t particularly want with a person you most definitely didn’t want to talk to.

Ugh.

When you stepped inside the cafe Clyde was already there. He had a deep crease set between his brows, he was annoyed. You sighed and walked over to him.

“Um hi Clyde.” You we’re embarrassed at your lateness, it wasn’t like you to be this late. You’d also some how managed to startle him, you knew this as he’d gone ridged as he turned to you.

“Oh—oh hello.” His shoulders dropped and he turned his back on you to the counter as he pocketed his phone. “I was waiting for you to arrive before I ordered, what do you want?”

“Oh don’t worry I’ll order separately!”

“What? No I’m paying so I’ll order for you.”

“No no. You really don’t have to. Besides I don’t want to owe you.” You could feel beads of sweat forming at your hairline. You really would love to accept the offer but being in debt to anyone was unnecessary, especially when that “anyone” is actually Clyde Donovan.

“You won’t owe me anything, I don’t want anything in return. Seriously, Y/N, get whatever and I’ll pay.” He insisted and it seemed like he wouldn’t back down so you caved.

“Fine.” You let out an exasperated and defeated sigh.

“Get whatever I don’t mind, I’ll pay.”

You were definitely and clearly reluctant to do so at first till it clicked, you may as well use this to your advantage. After all, you’re extremely underplayed and hardly ever eat a real meal, or anything for that matter. You grinned, you knew this would give him a little bit of trouble and for some unexplainable reason, you wanted to annoy him. “I’ll have a pumpkin spice ice coffee, three pumps of cream and and one pump of cinnamon syrup please.”

He deadpanned, completely unfazed by your request. The turned his head from you to the woman behind the counter and rhymed off your order. “Can I get a Pumpkin spice ice coffee with three pumps of cream and one pump of cinnamon syrup,” you swore you saw him roll his eyes. “And I’ll have a black coffee.”

Your jaw practically broke. He wanted a what? For some reason you were surprised that you were so surprised by his order. He had painted you as the type of guy to not like anything with flavour in his life, it was almost like the shoe fit too well. You were even more so shocked your assumption was right.

“Typical.” You mumbled under your breath. But you almost immediately regretted it. You begged the god the hadn’t heard, and you would have made it unscathed if your face wasn’t flushed red.

“What?”

“Oh—I um said it’s typical that you would order a black coffee.” Well there was certainly no turning back now.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I guess the shoe just fits.”

“I get the feeling that’s not exactly a compliment.”

A part of you wished the floor would just open up and swallow you whole, or you could get out of this conversation immediately and preferably run to a corner and never be seen again. But you couldn’t do either so you opted for the only option you could conjure; not answering him.

You could sense that he was waiting for some kind of response however you had none to give, so to make it more clear that you were avoiding the conversation you pulled your phone out to check the group chat. It had been a while since you last checked out what was going on, you’d been surprisingly busy over the last few days.

You rolled your eyes and turned your phone off. Some distraction they were.

The barista called out your order and you practically leapt for the drink. You were running on about 2 hours sleep and no coffee, you were deprived. You sighed and pick up your drink taking a long sip and making a satisfied sigh. You’d needed this.

Clyde, on the other hand, was watching you with a disgusted expression. You could feel his gaze on you so you looked at him, only to be met like his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows knotted together.

“What?”

He practically gagged. “I don’t know how you drink that sugary crap.”

“You mean fall in a cup? I don’t know how you don’t drink this sugary crap.”

“Still crap.”

“Shut up, you always have to be a Debbie downer don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just keep that pumpkin spice fall barf away from me.” You could have sworn you saw the corner of his mouth jerk.

“Fine fine.”

You made your way over to a table. He followed you quickly and took the seat across from you. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and set it on the table.

You sat in an extremely awkward silence, clearly both of you were wracking your brain for any topic whatsoever to talk about. But no matter how much you searched you only ended up at a dead end. That was when it dawned on you; you and Clyde haven’t got a single thing in common. This would definitely effect fake dating Thursday from now on.

You sighed and sat back in your seat uncomfortably telling yourself that it wasn’t that bad, but you knew for a fact that it was. This was really really bad. How were you only going to spend the next few months with him every Thursday, even just for 10 minutes without a single thing to talk about. You could gossip to him but he really didn’t seem like the type of person.

Something possessed you to check the time, so you did, and almost passed out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I have to go like right now. Thank you for buying me the drink and I’ll see you next Thursday.” You dove for the door as his goodbye chased after you, be before it could reach you, you were already out and on your way to the conference room to meet with your producer.

Masterlist

Taglist: @carinaryen @bootsieboo @southparktegreity @h3artilly

[fallenangellinwonderland]

Call me crazy, but I've been working all day and my brain just went off to a far away land and got this prompt idea while I was listening to get away car.

Don't pretend it's such a mystery, Clyde. Reader is dating this guy, he is perfect to everyone! He is so caring, sweet, such a lovely boyfriend (let's call him Emil). One day a neighbor, from their building sees the door open sensing something bad happened. This neighbor sees Emil unconscious on the floor while reader is slowly getting off the floor in panic, the neighbor calls Scotland yard telling them the situation he believes took place. Lestrade calls the ambulance and Sherlock because he is confused and it doesn't make sense. Emil is taken to the hospital and he's in comma. Reader is in shock, shaking, panicking and doesn't really give any useful information, they cannot take much evidence since the neighbor messed up some evidence by trying to be helpful. Here is where the songs takes place. It was the worst of crimes the best of times, the lies where white. The shades of grey in candle light, she wanted to leave him, she needed a reason. Sherlock tries to analyze her but there's so much panic in her, he can barely read her, he thinks she has something to do with it, but if it too obvious, it's too easy, it cannot be. Possible . In order to try to solve this crime they spend more time together. They were riding in the get away car, there were sirens in the beat of his heart, he knew something was off. She was starting to feel alive again, the light of freedom in her face. Lestrade is pressing Sherlock to solve all this, the guy isn't waking up yet and Emil's family want answers.

This was becoming a circus, reader and Sherlock are both sorry, because she can't give him answers and he can't solve the case for them. After a few weeks he starts analyzing the case again and her attitude, he finally can read her, she is not the same girl he met back then, she is readable now, he sees everything. It hits him like a shotgun shot to the heart. He should have known from the first time they met. She was guilty. Emil was waking up and he would probably speak up. "Don't pretend it's such a mystery. Think about the place where you first met me" She left Sherlock that night, she didn't want to get him in trouble, and she didn't want to go to jail, and she didn't want to face Emil ever again. But Sherlock knew, he knew she wasn't the one to blame, she was just a victim who made a mistake. It had been an accident, to leave him unconscious, she was just trying to survive.

Emil was actually an abusive boyfriend and she had developed some kind of Stockholm syndrome until she got tired of it and tried to get away.

This is too long to be a prompt... let's say it's a summary of the story my brain made up. Cause John it's also there telling Sherlock why he was so blind to see it before. He had developed a chemical defect, he had fallen for her.

@asherloki @astudyinlaura it was too long to share it through your ask boxes.

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

TW also cursed but in a different way

Now baby doll, sweetie-pie, sugarplum

Honey-bunch, angel face

You know you better be good

And act like two fine lovers should

Be careful what you say and do

'Cause Santa Claus is watchin' you

He's everywhere, he's everywhere

You'd better kiss and hold me tight

And give me good lovin' every night

'Cause you'll be sorry if ya make me blue

'Cause Santa Claus is watchin' you

He's everywhere, he's everywhere

Well you may thing you can sneak around

And get away with something but there ain't no way

'Cause Santa's no fool, he's really super cool

He's the secret head of the CIA

Eesh, Iish, crime don't pay

You can't do nothin' 'cause you're never alone

He's even got a wire tap on your phone

So baby if you ever do me wrong

Break my heart and leave me alone

When Christmas comes, you'll b crying too

'Cause Santa Claus is watching you

He's everywhere, he's everywhere

Every Christmas eve, he climbs on his sled full of toys

With fuel exhaust and side mirrors

The fox tails,the mud flaps the leopard-skin seats covers

And spreads Christmas cheer to all good little girls and boys

Then he says on Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid

Donner and Blitzen and Bruce and Marvin, Leon

Cletus and George and Bill and Slick and Do-right

Clyde and Ace and Blackie and Queenie

And Prince and Spot and Rover

So where's Rudolph

He's on a stakeout at your house

You can run, you can hide, but you can't get away

Got binoculars focused on you everyday

So baby if you ever do me wrong

Break my heart and leave me alone

When Christmas comes, you'll b crying too

'Cause Santa Claus is watching you

He's everywhere, he's everywhere

Yeah, Santa Claus is watchin' you

He's everywhere oh Lord have mercy!

Santa Claus has got his eyes all over you baby

You you better watch out hoo!

Look out there Santa Claus is peepin' around the corner at you

You're in deep trouble, you know that?

I don't think you understand the situation

I got a call into the North Pole right now

Them little elves gonna come down here, whoop up on you

I'm mean you got to be true blue - through and through

Or Santa's gonna get you!

👀

[salmonthestoryteller]

I got an unexpected comment on my old uncompleted Roswell New Mexico AU Maribel fic Parallel Line.

And after going back and forth about the fic and how the plot holds up in face of all the information that came out in seasons 2-4 with the commentor, I have now spent two days trying to figure out how to fix the original plot to match the backstory we are told in later seasons.

I'm rather feeling it is completely unsalvageable, and not even because it's Maribel. The fic was a roleswap that placed Isobel in Max's shoes and Maria in Liz's that I wrote two chapters of during the hiatus between season one and season two. I swapped Isobel and Max's abilities, making Isobel the Savior.

However, in the original fic as written I had Noah having controlled Max to get close to Rosa and commit the murders, but switch his control to Michael later, who takes Isobel spot as the one who is married to Noah and settled down. While Max took Michael's spot as the town trouble-maker - having spiraled out of the belief he killed Kate and Jasmine, and hurt Rosa. Who I made comatose rather than dead in order for Liz to take Maria's place as the one who hadn't left town - because I felt that if Rosa was comatose, she would feel a responsibility to stay. Plus I swapped Kyle into the Roswell PD as Isobel's partner and made Cameron work at the hospital with Liz. (Admittedly the last two was mainly for the fun of it and for a brief Kybel long before Kybel was actually a thing.). Liz is also the one who contacts Jesse instead of Kyle, seeing as Maria and Kyle were not shown close enough in season one for him to see the handprint or be who told her about the alien's involvement in the murders.

Honestly, I was just having too much fun in the original season one sandbox when I wrote it. Which truly makes a mess of my plot when faced with the information from later seasons. Nobody would be immune to Jones' abilities or inherit his powers - because none of the original Pod Squad would be related to Jones. Which also suddenly had me questioning why the only other alien aside from Jones and Michael who could control people was Noah. (Wasn't that passed through family? Does that mean Noah was related to Jones in some way?) That tangent aside...

In the fic, Michael is Nora's son, Max Louise's son, and Isobel Jones' clone. I also can't change Dallas being Theo's son because of the importance of the pocket dimension. I wonder if I could mix in Clyde being the Isobel version of Jones' son. But that still wouldn't fix the fight with Jones in s3.

Also, Maria couldn't be part alien or she wouldn't be effected by the alien mist like Liz in s4. I wonder if I could somehow make either Rosa & Kyle or Alex related to Louise instead? Also, I would have to give Michael other powers. Maybe have him be able to grow plants like Nora and Louise did the wheat? But then wouldn't he be able to insto-grow the alien fuel fruit trees?

Or maybe I should just mark this poor fic as abandoned.

[discopig]

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 1/3]

This is lowkey inspired by Sevdaliza’s song “That other girl” so give it a listen, she’s really underrated. As a member of the Grace love-hate relationship club, and an angst lover, I’m going to enjoy writing this. I might give it a fluffy ending but we’ll see! This isn’t set in any specific season because I honestly enjoy kinda ignoring the original plotline of the show... whoops! This is a short intro chapter

When Grace Burgess moves to Birmingham, she’s automatically the star of the show, her gracious face and innocence capturing the hearts of those who lay their eyes on her, but you don’t buy it. Her sudden appearance and posh aura setting your intuition off, a perk you’d gained from being around Polly so much. At first you try to ignore her presence, but when your boyfriend, and long time friend - Thomas Shelby, takes a keen liking to Grace, could you ever win against that other girl? Word Count: 978

Part 2 | Part 3

It was your regular evening at the Garrison, hundreds of drunk men piled up in the bar, the sounds of laughter and yelling penetrating your eardrums. You had been working at the Garrison for over 9 years, first accepting the job as a way to make some cash as you were only 18 when you ran away from your family, and the position happened to be vacant. You never intended to stay, the fumes of the factories and dark alleys in Birmingham being a stark contrast to the posh greenery and lavish villas you grew up with, however life doesn’t always work out the way you plan.

You were now 27 and if you were being honest - you hadn’t realized just how quickly the time had flown by... Well, when you know the Shelby family, it’s almost impossible for time to not fly by. You had gotten to know the Shelby family when Harry made you deliver 6 bottles of whiskey to their offices, a task you were afraid to take on, seeing as you were no stranger to the rumours about the Shelby family, and being new to Birmingham the last thing you wanted was trouble with the gangsters who have the city in the palm of their hands.

You had worn your plain brown cotton dress - the best item you could afford with the money you received from your job, and began your journey to the betting shop, trudging along the streets of Birmingham with the box of whiskey bottles. From that day on, Harry allowed you to serve the Shelby’s and you quickly got close to all of them, but one of them had completely stolen your heart - Tommy.

You’d never expected to fall for him, until you found yourself enamored by every word he’d say during family meetings, and lay in bed at night remembering every slight glance, or acknowledgement he’d given you. It was a stupid crush, and Tommy was quite a bit older than you and most likely saw you as nothing but a silly young girl, but when he started coming to the Garrison alone, eliciting your company to rant about his issues, or joke with you about how stupid Arthur was, he found himself falling in love with you too, your untouched innocence drastically standing out from the tainted souls of Birmingham, the way your eyes crinkled up when you’d smile, your London accent peeking through when you’d talk too quickly or how a cigarette looked almost like an expensive piece of jewelry between your fingers. So your love blossomed, and you became Thomas Shelby’s girl.

You had just delivered a bucket of beer to a table in the corner of the Garrison and were heading back to the bar, when all of a sudden you found yourself laying on the floor, the pain from your ankle hissing through your body

“Oh for fucks sake!” you exclaimed. Harry rushed over after seeing your condition - him having become an almost father like figure to you over the years.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked, concern beaming from his eyes

“I think I’ve sprained my bloody ankle or somethin’, it hurts like ‘ell”

Harry shook his head and offered to pick you up, you reached out to him and he took you to a taxi outside the Garrison

“Clyde, you’re gonna have to carry her up to her apartment” he said to the young taxi driver, who simply nodded in response

“You don’t need to come in, make sure you get your ankle fixed alright? Call a doctor or somethin’” 

“I will Harry, don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be back before you know it” you smiled at him, always being able to maintain your high spirits.

It had been two weeks since you’d been to work, your ankle was now in fairly good condition, however you still needed to be careful. Tommy had visited you almost every day, despite him being obviously tired, John had also visited a lot, always cracking jokes and making your tiny apartment smell like expensive cigars.

You’re wearing a green apron-style cotton dress with a white cardigan and some white flats - heels no longer a possible choice for the time being - your hair pinned back in a low bun, with a few loose strands at the front. You aren’t going into work today, you’re simply going to visit as you miss Harry and the bustle of the bar.

The bar isn’t as busy as usual as it’s only 2 PM. When you walk in you find Harry behind the bar, polishing some of the shot glasses, he beams when he sees you

“Y/N! I see your ankle is doing better”

“It is Harry, sadly I can’t work yet or Dr. Prew will kill me, but I’m just happy to leave my apartment for once! How have things been without me? Hope you’re not suffering too much eh?”

“Oh no no, thinks have been quite smooth with the new barmaid” he replied

“New barmaid?” you questioned

“Yeah, her name is Grace. Didn’t Tommy mention her? He’s been here almost everyday, she usually serves them and tends the bar”

“No... he never mentioned a new barmaid. Well, I’m happy you’ve had help while I’ve been gone, hopefully I’ll get to meet said Grace soon” 

You tried to sound enthusiastic, but not only were the thoughts of reasons as to why Tommy would refrain from telling you about your new colleague plaguing your mind, you also weren’t too happy about having to share the bar with someone else aside from Harry. You had gotten used to it and felt as though she might ruin your flow, and take away your usual tips.

Your deep thought is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the Garrison door slamming shut

“I’m back with the new glasses” A female voice exclaimed. You turned to the direction of the voice and felt your spirit bury itself six feet underground

Shit chapter but oh well... It’s 2 AM and I’m exhausted ❤

[mrs-gucci]

Mr. Handsy {Clyde Logan x wife!Reader}

@icarusinthesea :

Okay, okay. I think I've thought of something. Eh, it's a mediocre idea, but it does it for me. Fighting with Clyde followed by sweet, hot, nasty make up sex. I can not think of anything else. But whatever you write I'll love. 🥰

author’s notes: hello, hello! writers block has been hitting HARDCORE as of late, which is kind of a bummer, but luckily I’m feeling a bit better now! @icarusinthesea​ thank you for this request!! I hope it was worth the (very long) wait, and I send love to you, friend <3 <3

warnings: fluff. smut. club brawls. violence against an asshole. protectiveness. dom!Clyde. oral sex (m receiving). rough sex. unprotected sex/creampie.

(possible) tw’s: non-con touching (not by Clyde). physical conflict. sex in a public restroom.

word count: 1.9k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie​ @gotham-city-uber-driver​ @gildedstarlight​ @slytheriin2002 clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings​ @icarusinthesea​ @lumdelacour​ @readingreaver​ @eagerforhoney​ @trubluepensfan​ @beachwoodmonet​ if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, the sign up is linked here and can also be found in my description :)

You had a bad feeling about this place from the very beginning, from the moment you stepped into this stupid sleazy club for your co-worker’s birthday.

Clyde decided to tag along, mainly to hang out with the other poor guys whose wives dragged them along tonight.

The bass pulses your eardrums as you make your way over to the booth that they’d claimed, saying some very loud ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ to everyone before taking a seat on Clyde’s lap.

Your outfit certainly matches the locale of tonight’s party, sexy and risqué while maintaining at least some coverage and dignity for your larger areas. Clyde’s been having some trouble keeping his eyes, and now that he can, his hands, off you.

His calloused flesh hand runs over your thigh and hip in a soothing manner, mindless in its movements over your exposed skin.

Soon, a good dancing song comes on and no matter how much you try to beg Clyde to join you on the crowded floor, he refuses, insisting that you go have some fun with your friends.

His eyes keep a close watch on you, knowing that unfortunately, it’s highly likely that some bonehead Joe will come along and think he can touch without permission.

He finds himself in a sort of entranced state, watching the way your hips move when you dance, watches your skin bounce and jiggle with each motion, sees the way the multicolored lights bounce off the sequins on your dress…

Sure enough, said bonehead Joe dances his way over to you, not-so-subtly checking you out from a bit of a distance before making his approach.

Clyde almost instantly leaps into action when his hand touches your hip and he slides in behind you. Thinking that the man behind you is Clyde, you start grinding against him a bit more, smirking.

But, only after a second or two, his motions and touch begin to feel awfully foreign. You’ve just truly begun to doubt your dancing partner’s identity when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Keep dancing like this and I’ll just have to take you home, babygirl.”

Goosebumps form on your skin in disgust the moment you hear an unfamiliar voice, yanking away from his grubby grip.

“How dar—“

“Hey, you!”

Your eyes widen and you look around the man to see a very angry-looking Clyde storming his way over to where you’re standing.

He turns the handsy man around with a hand on his shoulder, then gives him a shove. “Can’t ya see she’s married, asshole? Don’t you ever think ya can just go ‘round here, touchin’ what ain’t yours.”

“Cly—“

“Don’t ya even start with me right now, Y/N. I can’t believe ya didn’t stop ‘im, can’t believe ye kept grindin’ against ‘im.”

Your eyes widen. “Clyde, p-please, it’s not like tha—“

“I thought I told ya t’ can it, Y/N.”

You shudder at his commanding and harsh tone, immediately backing down and biting your lip as the tears swell in your eyes.

The man wears a small smirk, giving Clyde an equally rough shove backwards. “And what, you’re telling me she’s yours? Bullshit she is. Who’d ever wanna marry a one-armed redneck like you?”

Big mistake. Clyde used to just stand down and shut off whenever someone made fun of his disability, but usually now, he just gets fucking pissed.

Sure enough, his jaw clenches and he quickly lunges at Mr. Handsy, forcefully knocking him to the scuffed dance floor. Often times, mostly due to his kind and gentle demeanor, you forget that Clyde’s a veteran. A special ops veteran, at that.

You can’t deny that bearing witness to his unbridled anger and dominance isn’t at least a little bit sexy, even if you do feel incredibly guilty about not realizing sooner that it wasn’t Clyde.

Like the coward he truly is, and that many men like him are, he flees the scene quickly when he looks up and sees the anger in Clyde’s eyes.

Meanwhile, you instantly rush up to him, apologizing repeatedly. “Clyde, I’m so sorry, I thought it was you and I didn’t mean to—“

He snatches your wrist, bending down so that his hot, slightly strained breath wafts across your face. “You’d better yer slutty ass into the restroom right fuckin’ now.” He growls, letting you go.

You nod, whimpering under your breath as you scurry off into the bathroom.

He follows after you, pushing you into the single stall before reaching around to lock the door.

“Clyde, please, I’m so sorry. I promise that I didn’t know it wasn’t you until he spoke and I pulled away right after that. I would never…”

He holds a hand up and you trail off, then crosses it back over his chest along with the other. When you look up at him, ready to apologize further, he gives you a subtle head shake and a faint smile.

“Get m’ cock out.”

You know, then, that he’s not mad, and you know exactly what he wants from you. You step up to him with a small smirk and pop the button on his Levi’s, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to fish out his half-hard length.

“Now stroke it. You know how I like it.”

Your hand holds a steady grip around the protrusion, starting off slow but quickening randomly, just as he likes it.

His head tilts back onto the cheap tiled wall, nostrils flaring as he exhales shakily. “Thaaaaat’s m’ girl, just like that.”

You speed up just a bit, focusing your pressure and ministrations on the upper half of his shaft, moving the little bit of excess skin up and down his shiny pink head.

“Mmmmffhhh.” He groans through pursed lips, hips rutting forward into your touch.

Suddenly, he pushes your hand away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to cope with the sudden loss of stimulation on his pulsing arousal.

“Knees.”

You get onto your knees, using his shoes as cushioning.

“Mouth open.”

Your jaw falls open and he wastes no time in moving himself into proper position, sheathing himself fully in your mouth.

“Ghhhohhh, s-shit.”

You’re choking right off the bat, shoulders shaking with each violent cough.

“Yeah, take it. Gon’ make ye choke on me, shove m’ cock down yer lil throat ‘till ya can’t breathe no more.”

You somehow manage to moan around him in between your gags and coughs, lungs panicked for the rough cutoff of airflow by Clyde’s length. Tears begin to swell in your eyes, soon running down your cheeks.

His eyebrows are tightly knitted in the center of his forehead, skin glistening with the beginnings of sweat as his hips rut into your cavern even quicker and rougher now.

Clyde has to physically pull himself away from your mouth, shuddering as his cock bobs and throbs angrily at the loss of friction. His hand splays out on the wall, chest heaving as he takes a moment to re-gain composure.

Then, he looks down at you, gaze sizzling your very skin.

“Up. Turn yerself ‘round n’ bend over, ass out n’ legs spread nicely.”

You put yourself into the position, wiggling your ass just a bit for play after pushing your jean shorts down, earning you a harsh smack across your newly-exposed skin. He smirks when you squeal softly, giving himself a few lazy strokes as he steps up behind you, lips instantly attacking your neck.

“Yer gon’ walk outta ‘ere with all o’ my marks on your neck, hickeys n’ bite marks. Maybe then everyone’ll understand who it is ya belong t’."

His chin digs into your shoulder, then he’s thrusting forward, filling you up and stretching you out to the max. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Ohhhhh.”

He groans into your ear, chin digging into your shoulder as he begins fucking you fast and hard. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about this union; it’s hunger and wanting, it’s pure carnal lust.

Tears quickly swell up in your eyes at the sweet pleasure currently surging through your body, tickling every nerve ending and igniting every pleasure center. 

It’s humid in the club, the bathroom no exception and already, a sheen of sweat has formed on the surface of your skin. Clyde’s good hand takes an even firmer hold on the meat of your hips, hips thrusting at an impossibly fast pace.

“G’damnit, wrapped ‘round m-me so tight, fffuck Y/N. Such a lil’ cccunt, love shovin’ m’ b-big cock in ya, ssssplittin’ ya right in half--christ.”

You love how his accent gets thicker and thicker at times like this, so much so that sometimes you can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. It’s adorable.

“Mmm, C-Clyde! Please baby, please mmmake me cum!”

His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking as hard as they possibly can while he reaches around to rub your clit with the cool metal digits of his prosthetic. 

Your hips instantly grind down on him, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. “Ohh god, mmmmmfffuck--right there! Yes, yes, Clyde!”

“Say y-yer mine.” He growls into your ear, panting. “Tell everyone who ya bbbelong to. Scream ma name w-when ya cum.”

“Y-Yours, all yours, Clyde. I’m yours!” You whimper. 

Clyde fucks you with everything he’s got, biting into your skin and sucking more of the flesh until you’re littered with marks. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, body trembling as you release all over his shaft with a shout of his name.

“Clyde! C-Clyde, fuck!”

Not long after you, Clyde falls over the edge, desperately rutting and fucking each drop of his hot load deep into your spasming cunt.

“Y/N, g’damnit...fuuuckin’ s-shit!”

Both of you are rendered breathless as you come down from your respective highs. His lips and tongue gently soothe the harsh bites and bruises that have been left behind in his wake. 

He sighs softly when he pulls out, helping you pull your shorts back up before tucking himself back into his pants. When you turn around, he crashes his lips into yours, hands resting gently on your hips. 

“‘m real sorry fer that, Y/N; dunno what got int’ me. I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

You smile, cradling his face in your hands. “Clyde, there is no need to apologize or feel bad for that. You know if I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you or said something. I loved it, more than I probably should have, and I love you.”

His lips tug up into a soft, lopsided smile, relief flooding across his expression.

“I love ya too, Y/N, so, so much. Thank ya fer puttin’ up with me n’ bein’ mine.”

“No ‘thank you’ necessary, baby. I’m yours, always yours.”

Clyde grins, pulling you in for a hug as he repeats your words out loud.

“All mine.”

[itsclydebitches]

The Bad Batch: A Crosshair Analysis

Hello, Star Wars fandom! I have just completed watching—and loving—The Bad Batch, which you know means I now need to dump all my thoughts about the first season into the tumblr void. Specifically, thoughts on the complicated drama that is Crosshair. I have no doubt that the majority of what I’m about to say will be old news to anyone who watched the show when it came out (I’m slow...), but I’m writing it all out anyway. Largely for my own sanity enjoyment :D

I want to preface all of this by saying that the above is not an exaggeration. I love the show and I love the entire cast. My enjoyment in each of the characters is directly connected to my enjoyment of the season as a whole, which I say because I’m about to get pretty critical towards some of the characters’ choices and, to a lesser extent, the writing choices that surround those. Does this mean I secretly hate The Bad Batch? Quite the opposite. I’m invested, which is presumably just what Filoni wants. I’m just hoping that investment pays off. 

But enough of the disclaimers. Let’s start with the matter of the inhibitor chip. I’ve seen fans take some pretty hard stances on both sides: Crosshair is completely innocent because he’s definitely been under the chip’s control this whole time, no matter what he might say. Crosshair is completely guilty because he said the chip was removed a long time ago and he chose to do all this, no moral wiggle room allowed. However, the reality is that we don’t know enough to make a clear call either way. The audience, simply put, does not have all the necessary information. What we have instead is a couple of facts combined with claims that may or may not be reliable. Let’s lay them out:

Crosshair was definitely under the chip’s control at the start of the series.

He was able to resist it to a certain extent, resulting in a pressure to obey orders coupled with a primary loyalty to his squad. See: telling Hunter to follow the Empire’s commands—which includes killing kid Padawans—but not turning his team in as traitors when they did not. It’s an in-between space.

Crosshair’s chip was then amplified to an unknown extent. I’m never going to claim I’m a Star Wars aficionado—I’m a casual fan, friends. Please don’t yell at me over obscure lore lol—but within TBB’s canon, no one else is undergoing that experimentation. The effects of this are entirely unknown, which includes Crosshair’s free will, or lack thereof.

Crosshair then becomes a clear tool of the Empire, hunting down innocents, killing on a whim, the whole, evil shebang.

In “Reunion” he’s caught by the engine and suffers severe burns to his face. One leaves a scar that covers precisely the place where the chip would have been extracted.

Removing the chip leaves its own scar behind. If Crosshair’s was removed, we can’t see that scar due to the burn.

After these events Crosshair seems to mellow a bit. He does horrible things under the Empire’s orders—like shooting the senator—but is still loyal to his squad—killing his non-clone teammates to give TBB a chance, saving AZ and Omega, etc.

Crosshair claims that his chip has already been removed. However, Crosshair is arguably an unreliable source if he’s been lied to or if the chip is still there, encouraging him to manipulate the team.

Crosshair claims it was removed a long time ago, which is incredibly imprecise. As we can see from just some of the events listed above, precisely when the chip came out—if it came out—makes a huge difference.

Hunter realizes this and presses for clarification, but Crosshair dodges giving it. Again, a legitimate belief that it doesn’t matter, or evidence that he can’t say because something else is going on? We don’t know.

Hunter checks Crosshair’s head and finds the burn scar which proves… nothing. As stated above, they wouldn’t be able to see the surgery scar one way or another: its existence or its absence. It’s useless data, as Tech might say. I’ve seen a few fans claim that Hunter was also feeling for the chip with his enhanced senses, but 1. I didn’t catch any evidence of that in the scene and 2. Even if we assume Hunter did that anyway, the chips are notoriously hard to spot. Fives and AZ couldn’t find the chip at first when examining Tup. Ahsoka had to use the force to find it in Rex. TBB themselves couldn’t find it at first in Wrecker. If machinery consistently fails to find the chip on the first couple of tries—it’s meant to be a hidden implant, after all—why would we believe Hunter’s senses could pick it up instantly? Maybe he missed it, or maybe it wasn’t there at all. 

Crosshair appears to be struggling with a headache in the finale, just as he was at the beginning of the season and just like Wrecker was for the first half.

The point of listing all this out is to emphasize how ambiguous this whole situation is. I don’t want to use this post to argue one way or another about whether Crosshair’s chip is really out. I have my preferred theory (the chip’s still in, but only partially functional), but at the end of the day none of this is conclusive. The writing takes us in what I hope is deliberate circles. Crosshair says the chip is out? Crosshair is not a reliable source of information until we know if the chip is out. What other evidence is there that the chip is gone? A scar? We can’t see if there’s a scar. Hunter’s abilities? He only checked once for a canonically hard to find implant—if he actually checked at all. And why would the Empire want the chip out? Well, maybe it has to do with that push towards willing soldiers, but if that were the case, why leave Crosshair behind and have the “clones die together”? By that point he was one of the most willing, chip or not. Did they have to take it out because of the engine accident? Pure speculation. We just don’t know and THAT is the point I want to make.

Because it means the rest of the Bad Batch didn’t know either.

The core issue I have here is not whether the chip is in or out, or even how long it may have been in if it is out now. The issue is that TBB spent 99% of the first season believing that Crosshair was under the chip’s influence… and they didn’t try to do anything about that. They abandoned him. They left a man behind. Does this make them all horrible monsters? Of course not! This shit is complicated as hell, but I do think they made a very large mistake and that Crosshair has every right to be furious about it.

“But, Clyde, they couldn’t have gone back. It was too dangerous! Hunter had a duty to his whole team, not just Crosshair.” True enough and I’d buy this argument 100% if Hunter hadn’t spent the entire season throwing his team into dangerous, seemingly impossible situations to save other people. Crosshair became the exception, not a hard rule of something they had to avoid. They went back to Kamino for Omega, a kid they’d only had one lunch with, despite knowing how dangerous the Empire was. They went into the heart of an occupied planet to rescue not just a stranger, but one belonging to the Separatist government. They helped Sid when she asked and there was plenty of compassion for the criminal trying to take her place. Most significantly, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation to go rescue Hunter when he was under the Empire’s control, in precisely the same place. Every explanation I’ve seen fans come up with—Kamino is too fortified, they don’t know where Crosshair is, they can’t risk Omega being captured, etc.—also holds true for Hunter, yet there wasn’t a second of doubt about needing to at least try to help him. And his rescue was arguably far more dangerous given that TBB knew they were walking into a trap. Going after Crosshair would have at least had some element of surprise.

I think the problem with these justifications is most easily seen in “Rescue on Ryloth” and, later, “War-Mantle.” In the former, we do watch Hunter decide that going on a rescue mission is too much of a risk, only for Omega to talk him into considering it.

Hunter: “It’s a big galaxy. We can’t put ourselves on the line every time someone’s in trouble.”

Omega: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?”

Hunter: “It’s not worth the risk.”

Omega: “She’s trying to save her family, Hunter. I’d do the same for you.”

The arguments that sway him are ‘Soldiers should help people’ and ‘Soldiers should specifically help their family.’ So… what does that say about their feelings for Crosshair? They’re willing to put themselves on the line for the parents of a girl they met once at a drop site, but not their own brother? That’s the message the writing sends. “But, Clyde, the difference is that they had an advantage here. Hera’s knowledge of her home planet tipped the odds in their favor.” Yeah… and Crosshair is stationed on TBB’s home planet. Even more than them collectively having the same knowledge that Hera does, “Return to Kamino” reveals that Omega always had additional, insider knowledge of the base: she has access to a secret landing pad and the tunnels leading up into the city. That knowledge was given and used the second Hunter’s freedom was on the line, but it never once came up to use for Crosshair’s benefit. 

“War-Mantle’s” mission puts this problem in even sharper relief. Another claim I’ve seen a lot is that TBB only took risky rescue missions because they needed to be paid. The guys have got to eat after all. Yet Tech makes it clear that going after Gregor will lose them money. They’re meant to be on a mission for Sid and deviating for that won’t result in a payment. He explicitly says that if they decide to do this, they won’t eat. They do it anyway. No money, no intel, a huge risk “on a clone we don’t even know.” But that’s not what’s important, the show says. All that matters is that a brother is in trouble. This time it’s Echo pushing that message instead of Omega. When Hunter realizes that they’re about to try and infiltrate an entire facility and they don’t even know if this clone is still alive, Echo points out that they took that risk once before: for him. “If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try and get him out.”

Yes! Exactly right! So why doesn’t that apply to Crosshair?

“Because he tried to kill them, Clyde!” No, that’s the easy, dismissive answer. A chipped Crosshair tried to kill them. AKA, a Crosshair entirely under the Empire’s control. The only difference between his enslavement and Gregor’s is that Gregor’s chains were physical while Crosshair’s were mental. And again, the point of everything at the start of this post is to show that no one knows when or even if that chip was removed. TBB definitely didn’t have any reason to suspect that Crosshair was working under his own power until Crosshair himself said as much. We might have been able to make that case at the start of the season, but “Battle Scars” removes any possible confusion. The entire team watched Rex reach for his blaster when he learned their chips were still in. The entire team watched Wrecker become a totally different person and attack them, just like Crosshair did. The entire team forgave him instantly and had their own chips removed. So why in the world didn’t anyone go, “Wow, Crosshair has a chip too. He was no more responsible for attacking us than Wrecker was. We need to try to get him out, no matter how hard that might be, just like we had to try for all these other people we’ve helped.”

But they didn’t. No one even considered rescuing Crosshair. They only went back for Hunter and, when they realized Crosshair was there too, they didn’t change their plans to try and rescue him as well. He’s treated as a particularly threatening inconvenience, not another team member in need of their help.

The problem I have with how this all went down is that the team treated Crosshair like an enemy despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite Omega outright saying that this isn’t his fault, it’s the chip, the group seems to decide that he’s gone crazy or something and that there’s nothing they can do. “It’s fine,” I thought. “They don’t really get what the chip is like yet. They don’t understand how thoroughly it controls someone.” But then “Battle Scars” arrives and Wrecker is treated with such compassion (which he deserves!) only for the group to continue acting like Crosshair is somehow different. It’s easy to say, “But Crosshair shot Wrecker” and ignore the easy pushback of, “and Wrecker nearly shot Omega.” Up until Crosshair’s own accusations and Omega’s ignored comments, TBB’s understanding of the chip’s influence and the lack of responsibility that accompanies mysteriously disappears when the show’s antagonist becomes the subject of conversation. This is seen most clearly in how Hunter tries to frame things during his talk with Crosshair:

“You tried to kill us. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Can’t you see that they’re using you? It’s that inhibitor chip in your head.”

“You really don’t get who we are, do you?”

Hunter mentions the chip, but he acts as if it’s Crosshair’s responsibility to overcome it: “Can’t you see…” Of course he can’t see, that’s the entire point of the chip, the thing he currently believes Crosshair still has stuck in his head. But Hunter and the others—with Omega as a wonderful exception—never seem to have accepted this like they did for Wrecker. When Crosshair “tried to kill us” it’s seen as a deliberate act that he chose, not something forced on him like with Wrecker. When Hunter talks about their ethics, he subconsciously separates the team from Crosshair: “You really don’t get who we are, do you?”, revealing a pretty ingrained divide between them. Even Wrecker gets in on the action, the one brother who truly understands how much the chip controls someone: “All that time, you didn’t even try to come back.” What part of he couldn’t try is not hitting home here? Again, for the purposes of this conversation it doesn’t matter whether Crosshair was chipped this whole time or not. The point is that TBB believed he was chipped… and yet still expected him to somehow, magically overcome that programming, writing him off when he failed to do that. He’s consistently held responsible for actions that they were told (and, through Wrecker, saw) were completely outside of his control. Even when we factor in his claim that the chip was removed, TBB has ignored all the evidence I listed at the start. No one, not even Omega, challenges this super vague and strange claim, or seeks out proof because they don’t want to believe that their brother could willingly do this. There’s just this... acceptance that of course Crosshair went bad. Why? Because he was an asshole sometimes? Taking it all as written, it doesn’t feel like the batch considered him a true part of the team. Certainly not like Wrecker or Hunter. As shown, the batch will go out of their way, risk anything, forgive anything, for them. They have a level of faith that was never shown to Crosshair. 

“Severe and unyielding,” Tech says and he’s absolutely right, but I’d seriously challenge this idea that any of the others would have automatically done better if the situations were reversed. It stood out to me that each batch member has a moment of doubt throughout the series, a brief glimpse into how they think the Empire isn’t that bad, at least when it comes to this particular thing. Basically, a moment that could lead to a very dangerous line of thinking without others to stomp it down. Wrecker announces that he’s happy working for whoever, provided they give him food and let him blow things up. Tech finds the chain codes to be an ingenious strategy and is clearly fascinated with their development. Hunter initially wants Omega to stay on Kamino, despite knowing that this Empire has already, systematically killed an entire group of people: the Jedi. Doesn’t matter. She’s still (supposedly) safer there than she would be running with the likes of them.

There’s absolutely no doubt that those three made the correct choice in defying the Empire, but I believe that their ability to make that choice is largely dependent on them having each other. They survive together, not apart, and it’s their unity that allows them to make the really hard calls, like setting out on their own and opposing such a formidable force. But if Tech’s chip had activated and he’d been left behind, would he have muscled through to escape somehow...or would he have gotten caught up in all the new technology the Empire offered him, succumbing to both his chip and the inevitability that if his squad no longer wanted him, why not stay? Would Wrecker have escaped, or been easily manipulated into a new life of exploding things? Would Hunter have been able to push through without his brothers, or would he have become devoted to a new team to lead? Obviously there’s no way to ever know, but it’s always easier to make the right decisions when you have support in doing so. Crosshair had no support. His team left him and yes, they had to in that specific moment, but the point is that they never came back. As far as we saw throughout the season, they never planned to come back. They all talk about loving the Crosshair who existed when life was easier, but they weren’t willing to fight for the Crosshair that most needed their help. When he says “You weren’t loyal to me,” he’s absolutely right. The same episode, “Return to Kamino,” gives Omega two powerful lines that the group rallies behind:

Omega: “[The danger] doesn’t matter. Saving Hunter is what matters.”

AZ: “You must leave.”

Omega: “Not without Hunter.”

The key word there is “Hunter.” Danger, stakes, risk, probability… none of that matters when Hunter needs help. Crosshair did not receive that same level of devotion.

Which creates a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. The group is upset that Crosshair isn’t rejoining them, but they fail to realize that he has no reason to trust them anymore. He’s not joining the Empire because he’s inherently evil and that’s that, end of discussion. He’s joining it because above all Crosshair wants a place to belong… and TBB has made it clear—unintentionally—that he does not belong with them. The horrible actions that Crosshair took under his own free will (theoretically) came after he realized that doing bad things while under the Empire’s control was, apparently, unforgivable. If it wasn’t, his team would have come back to rescue him. They could have at least tried. But they didn’t, so Crosshair is left with the conclusion that either what he did under the Empire’s control is something the group can’t forgive him for, or they can forgive that (like with Wrecker) and he’s the problem here. He’s the one not worth that effort.

“The Empire will be fazing out clones next,” Hunter says. To which Crosshair responds, “Not the ones that matter.”

He wants to matter to someone and events show he no longer matters to his brothers. So why not stay with the Empire? I mean, we as the audience ABSOLUTELY know why not. Self-doubt and feelings of isolation aren’t excuses for joining the Super Evil Organization. Crosshair, if he is under his own control, is still 100% in the wrong for supporting them, no matter his reasons. So it’s not an excuse, but rather an explanation of that very human, flawed, fallible thinking. He needs to be useful. He needs to be wanted. Crosshair is an absolute dick to the regs and I have no doubt that a lot of that stems from the harassment TBB has experienced from them (with a side of his inflated ego), but I’d bet it’s also due to Crosshair’s intense desire to be valuable to someone. He keeps pointing out the regs’ supposed deficiencies because it highlights his own usefulness. When Crosshair fails to find Hera, the Admiral says that soon he’ll get someone who can, looking straight at Howzer at the door. It makes Crosshair seethe because his entire identity is based on being useful, yet no one seems to need him anymore. TBB seems to no longer want him. The Empire no longer wants clones. Now even regs are considered a better option than him, the “superior” soldier. Everywhere Crosshair turns he’s getting the message that he’s not wanted, but he’ll keep fighting to at least be needed in some capacity, no matter how small. Even if that means overlooking all the horrors the Empire commits.

“All you’ll ever be to [the Empire] is a number,” Hunter says and he’s absolutely right. But to TBB recently, Crosshair hasn’t even been that. He’s been nothing. Nobody worth coming back for. To his mind, at least being a number is something.

I hope that all of this resolves itself into a conclusion that is kind to each side (preferably without a Vader-style death redemption), especially given the still ambiguous state of the chip, but from a writing standpoint I’m admittedly a bit wary. We’re obviously meant to believe that the batch all love each other, but as established throughout this entirely too long post, this season did a terrible job imo of proving that they love Crosshair. Or, at least, proving that they love him as much as the others. If this was really meant to be just a matter of miscommunication, with Crosshair making terrible life choices because he only thinks he was abandoned, then we as the audience would have seen the batch trying and failing to get him out. Or at least establishing a very good reason why they couldn’t take that risk, hopefully with entirely different side-missions so the audience isn’t constantly going, “So you can risk everything for Gregor... but not Crosshair?” I’m VERY glad that Crosshair was allowed to air his grievances to the extent he did, but the end result of that—Hunter continually denying this, Omega walking away from him in their rooms, neither Tech nor Wrecker actually sticking up for him and acknowledging the chip’s influence during at least some of all this—is making things feel rather one-sided. It’s like we’re meant to take Crosshair at his word and accept that he’s this garden-variety antagonist who joins the Empire because yay being on the winning side… despite all these complications that clearly have a huge impact on how we read the situation. It doesn’t help that the show has already embraced an inconsistent manner of portraying chipped-clones. We know every clone has one, we know only a couple clones are aware of the chip’s existence (and can thus try to get it out), we know they enter a “Good soldiers follow orders” mindlessness once activated… yet towards the end we see a lot of side character clones thinking for themselves. Howzer decides that he’s no longer loyal to the Empire, giving a speech where a couple other clones throw down their weapons too. Gregor was arrested because he likewise realized how wrong this all was. But how is that possible? Do the chips completely control the clones, or not? Are these clones somehow exceptions? Are the chips beginning to fail? All of that has a bearing on how we read Crosshair—what were his own decisions, how much he was capable of overcoming the chip, whether that changed at all during certain points—but right now that remains really unclear.

It’s details like that which make me wonder if all these other questions will be answered. Will the story resolve all those ambiguous moments surrounding the chip, or brush them off with the belief that we should have just taken Crosshair at his equally ambiguous word? Will the story acknowledge Crosshair’s points through someone other than Crosshair, allowing it to exist as a legitimate criticism, rather than the presumed excuses of an antagonist? I’m… not sure. On the whole I’m very happy with TBB’s writing—despite what all this might imply lol. Until my brain picks over the season and discovers something else, my only other gripe is not allowing Omega to form a solid bond with Tech and Echo, instead putting all the focus on big brother!Wrecker and dad!Hunter. I think it’s a solid show that does a lot right, but I’m worried that, unless there’s a brilliant answer to all these questions and an intent to unpack both sides of the Hunter vs. Crosshair debate with respect—not just falling back on, “Well, Crosshair is with the Empire so everything he says is automatically bad and wrong” take—we’ve just gotten the setup for a somewhat messy, ethical story. For anyone here who also reads my RWBY metas, I’m pretty sure you’re not at all surprised that I’m invested in going, “Hey, you had one of the heroes suddenly become/join a dictatorship and do a lot of horrific things, but within a pretty complicated context. Can we please work through that carefully and with an acknowledgement of the nuance here, rather than throwing the ‘evil’ character to the proverbial wolves?”  

God knows TBB is leagues ahead of RWBY, but I hope things continue on in not just a good direction, but one that tackles the aspects of this situation that many fans—and Crosshair—have already pointed out. As much as I adore the cast—and I really, really do—it was discomforting to watch a found family show where 4/5th of that family so completely wrote off one of the members and crucially have, at least so far, refused to acknowledge that. I want complicated, flawed characters, but that’s only compelling when the storytelling admits to and grapples with those flaws. We have quite firmly established Crosshair’s flaws in Season One. I hope Season Two delves into the rest of the team’s too.

Aaaand with that meta-dump out of my system, I’m off to write TBB fic. Thanks for reading! :D

[roanniom]

This made my day seeing your requests open!!

I’d like to please request some hot dominat Clyde action. We all know he’s a softy, but we all also know he’s capable of being a big and scary if he needs to. Thoughts on Clyde protecting you from something and then still being riled up with you after, in all the best ways? :)

Hiya anon! I was happy to write this for you. Fun story, what Clyde does (re: the beer bottle) in this story is actually something a bar tender did when defending me from a creep back in my college bar hopping days lol. I WISH it was Clyde who had done it. I would have loved to thank him. 😉

Out of Trouble

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, possessiveness, dirty talk 

You reassess the situation you find yourself in – by no means an unfamiliar one, but definitely out of the norm these days and wholly unpleasant all the same. The man currently harassing you at the bar is clearly not a local. First of all, you don’t recognize the handsy son-of-a-bitch. And secondly, everyone in town knew that you were Clyde’s girl.

You two had only recently made things official, but in a way, hadn’t you always been Clyde’s girl? Your best friendship had always been tinged with a sweetness that surpassed the roles of mere pals. Sure there was flirting, how could you resist with the way a properly timed tease or suggestive comment could make Clyde blush and stammer as if on command? But even more prevalent, and more obvious to the patiently waiting members of the town, was the ownership you both had of one another. People knew better than to hassle either of you, verbally, hypothetically, or otherwise, in the presence of the other. You had Clyde’s back and he had yours, each of you displaying a possessiveness that made others smirk and roll their eyes while hiding their jealousy. You had what they did not, and now that the two of you were finally dating, envy was a common emotion amongst regular Duck Tape patrons.

Something this creep clearly was not privy to it would seem as he reached out to caress your forearm, an action which you flinch to avoid.

“Come on, baby. Let me buy you a fucking drink,” he was saying at this point. He was getting more forceful and though you had previously been courteous in your refusals, you realize that it might be time to fight back. He swayed on his barstool before continuing. “Stop being such a bitch. What could one drink hurt?”

“Every bone in yer fuckin’ body,” comes a low, deep growl that makes both you and the creep look up to the swinging door behind the bar. Your heart swells with relief and other, undefinable emotions as Clyde stalks up, his massive body an intimidating figure as it looms over the other, weasel-y man, threatening even with the bar between them.

“W-what’s your problem?” the creep practically squeaks before clearing his throat and jumping up, trying to draw himself up to his full height, which just comes across as laughable. Of course, next to Clyde, any height would be laughable.

“My problem is yer comin’ onto m’girl. That’s my problem.” His tone is deadly quiet. That’s your Clyde, soft spoken, even as his flesh hand clenches and murder simmers behind his eyes.

“Look, she was sitting here all alone. In my book that makes a bitch fair game - ” the creep begins, but he doesn’t get much farther with his misogynistic diatribe because Clyde reaches over, grabbing a nearby customer’s almost empty beer. Grasping the bottle around the neck, Clyde smashes the bottle down against the edge of the bar. The barrel shatters with a loud crash that silences the din of the room and causes the neck of every patron to whip around for the source of the sound. Clyde stands before the creep brandishing the remaining shards of the beer bottle like a shiv.

“Here’s what yer gonna do,” Clyde says calmly, the violence of his actions not succeeding in raising the volume of his voice. “Yer gonna apologize t’ the lil lady fer troublin’ her, understand?”

The creep stares at Clyde, wide-eyed and panicked before nodding and turning to you hastily.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry –”

“Good,” Clyde says, cutting the guy off so that he can no longer address you. You eye Clyde as he waves the shattered bottle menacingly. He’s never looked bigger. Never looked darker. Never looked hotter. When he speaks again his voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “Now yer gonna get the fuck outta my bar.”

The creep is gone in a matter of seconds, running out the front door so fast you almost imagine his skeleton being left on the bar stool in his wake like some frightened cartoon character. Before you can look back up at Clyde, his large hand is encircling your wrist and yanking you toward to door to the back of the bar. You let yourself be pulled, barely registering how the conversation kicks back in, customers already basking in the aftermath of Clyde’s rare emotional outburst.

Once the door to Clyde’s office is safely shut behind you, Clyde pushed you to sit down on his couch while he paces back and forth in front of you. You’re bewildered by this response, unsure if you should say something so you remain silent, watching him. After a moment Clyde yanks a hand through his hair forcefully. You swallow and decide to finally speak up.

“Are you okay, Clyde?”

“I’m NOT fuckin’ okay,” Clyde replies and you’re shocked at the way his voice raises with his words. You’re suddenly worried he’s gotten the wrong idea and you’re quick to fold your arms defensively across your chest, your own voice rising.

“Hey, if you’re mad at me you should know it’s not like I encouraged that asshole.”

Clyde is quick to round on you, looking panicked.

“I didn’t say ya did. I know ya wouldn’t…ya’d never…” Clyde trails off into a growl and resumes his pacing, flesh hand clenching and unclenching.

“It’s over, Clyde,” you soothe now, switching tactics and lowering your own defenses. He’s clearly distressed and you’re not sure how to calm him. “He’s not the first and probably won’t be the last guy to bother me.”

“That’s what’s killin’ me, darlin’. What if I hadn’t walked out? What if ya were alone an’ this happened?”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know ya can,” Clyde says, voice more characteristically quiet now but frustration no less palpable as he waves his prosthetic arm distractedly. “I dunno what’s gotten intuh me. I saw him touch ya an’…an’…” Clyde reaches out and swipes across a table, throwing everything to the ground. His chest heaves with his outburst. Yours is rising and falling rapidly now, too, but for you its stemming from the realization that this man. This sweet, beautiful man is losing his cool over his desire to protect you. To defend you. You’re a modern woman. As you’d just told him, you can take care of yourself and you are very proud of that fact. But something about the dark look in his eye and the way his muscles shift tensely beneath his shirt and the way he stomps before you makes you feel like you want to disappear in his arms and never resurface.

“You’re a good man, Clyde,” you say softly. He shakes his head and gives a humorless laugh.

“Not tonight, I’m not, darlin’. Not with these thoughts. I haven’t felt this way since…”

“Overseas?” you ask. He nods, trying to take a deep breath but releasing an even angrier exhale.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m just so fuckin’ mad.”

You watch your big bear, usually so gentle, wrestle with his emotions before you. Immediately you have an idea, standing up and moving to him. Using one hand to peel open his fist and interlace your fingers. He grips you too tight but you just bite your lip. Your other hand slides over his bicep and shoulder, kneading into the tense muscles there as you press your face into his chest. His prosthetic arm winds around your waist, pulling you into his body naturally. This does nothing to slow his breathing, which picks up more speed. Feeling you against his body is reminding him of how small you are. How vulnerable. He feels another surge of rage and desperation course through his veins.

“I don’t know why I’m feelin’ this way,” he mumbles but you reach up and grab his face to force him to look at you.

“Feel whatever way you feel,” you reassure him. You lift up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, but the force with which he responds steals your breath. His arms wind around your body and crush you to him as his tongue ruthlessly explores your mouth, as if searching for solace can only be done in the space where you are most conjoined. The aggression is dizzying and his fingers are bruising on your frame but you love it. Used to light touches, soft caresses, you feel a hunger burn beneath your skin, as if your every muscle is rejoicing at the deeper pressure, the deeper friction.

When Clyde finally pulls away you are winded and dazed, now breathing just as heavily. His eyes look no less wild but now there is a tinge of concern.

“M’sorry, darlin’. We should stop, ‘m too worked up. Can’t be sweet to ya the way ya like.” His words are husky and rushed but you’re just as rushed to shush him. You’re already working at his belt and pulling him back to the couch.

“I like you in whatever way you’ll have me, baby,” you mumbled against his flesh, kissing down his throat as you pull him down to the cushions. “Take it out on me.”

“What if I’m too rough with ya?” Clyde asks, but his hands are already ripping your shirt over your head and his mouth latches onto your throat, your collar bone, your breast through your bra.

“I want you to be rough with me, Clyde. I’ve wanted you to be rough with me since the moment you walked out and gave that asshole what-for.” You’re pressed down, back against the couch now, with your legs tight around the wide barrel of Clyde’s body.

“Did ya like that, darlin’? Yer Big Bear defending ya?” He’s no longer hesitant in his movements and no longer trying to stop himself. Instead he takes a handful of your ass, pulling your pelvis up off the couch so that your clothed pussy presses fully into his erect and waiting cock. You moan, both at the sensation and at him calling himself Big Bear for the first time. You’d only been dating for a few weeks and things were still new, including shyness around pet names. You’d called him Big Bear the night before in the teasing lead up to some love making and he’d only flushed and stammered in response, busying himself by burying his face between your thighs.

But right now he’s gazing down at your face with an air of intensity and you feel saliva pool in your mouth and wet slick your quivering heat.

“I liked my Big Bear defending me. So strong and big.” You say the last word as you close your hand around his enormous cock through his unzipped jeans. Clyde bucks into your hand and hums from where he’s suckling at the underside of one of your breasts, curved down into you despite your differences in height.

“Nobody else can have ya,” he grumbles before hoisting you higher on the couch so he can position his cock at your entrance. You gasp at the feeling of his member sliding between your folds, getting covered in your waiting slick.

“Nobody. Only you, Big Bear.” Before you can say anything else Clyde has speared into you in one swift motion and taken up an unforgiving pace. There was the aggression he’d been worried about and boy was it rough. You cling to him for dear life as he fucks you into the couch cushions. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

It hurts – he’s much too big to be going this hard this fast – but his grip on you is so tight it melts your aching muscles. The desperation of his thrusts make you hiccup through your inhales and you feel surrounded. Crushed. Filled. All in the best way possible. You love the darling Clyde who coaxes your orgasms with caresses and honeyed words and languid strokes. But this Clyde – this is your Big Bear. His eyes drink in your bouncing breasts as he’s not able to clutch them with the way he has to support his own weight with his good arm. Your back arches deeper from the effects of a particularly deep thrust, bringing your chest up to press against his and he groans.

“This body. No wonder people’re comin’ on to ya, darlin’. This body’s too perfect,” he practically growls, burying his face into your throat. “Maybe I should just keep ya here on my cock. Stay inside ya. Keep me warm and keep ya outta trouble.”

You moan loudly as his dirty words are accentuated by a change in angle that lets him pound into a particularly sweet spot. Your walls pulse around him.

“Oh god. Oh Clyde.”

“Back to callin’ me Clyde already? Am I not bein’ rough enough for ya?” Clyde asks, biting down into the sensitive flesh of your throat. You cry out, hips gyrating against him, legs and walls clamping down around him with an unconscious need to keep him buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck, oh fuck me, Big Bear. I can take it!” you practically whine.

“Yes ya can. So good, takin’ yer Big Bear.” His trusts begin to bottom out harsher, faster. The pressure and the speed have pulled your muscles as taut as they can go and you know you’re seconds from snapping. It was all so sudden. You’re both so worked up, not only from the experience out in the bar, but from the headiness of being this way with one another for the first time. He may be the one pounding into you, but you’re giving as good as you’re getting, rolling your hips up to meet each thrust. Pulling him down into you and raking your fingernails up and down his back.

It’s desperate and needy and possessive – equally so. He is yours and you are his and ownership never tasted so sweet.

Just as you’re about the cum, Clyde seems to sense it and shoves your legs up by the back of the knee, ensuring his next few thrusts rub up against the spot inside you that makes your eyes cross and makes your moans turn into desperate whimpers. You have the vague thought that this proves how well Clyde has come to know your body, what a great student he is of your orgasm, just as said orgasm crashes over you.

You know for sure that the Duck Tape customers heard you. Your belief in your audience becomes even stronger when Clyde lets out a delicious moan as he cums, too, painting your insides with spend made just for you. You’re sweaty and it’s only 7 pm on a Tuesday. Clyde’s going to have to go back to tending bar and you’re going to have to slink out, so clearly ravaged and thoroughly fucked to the likely amusement of a roomful of people who’d been rooting for your coupling. You chuckle to yourself, as Clyde drops the weight of his whole body on you, crushing you. Those people outside definitely got a chance just now to hear your coupling firsthand.

“That…was amazing.” It comes out breathless, as though you’ve just run a marathon. And because you have the mass of a large man pressing you into the couch. When Clyde finally lifts his head from its resting place at your neck he looks sheepish and embarrassed and pleased and winded.

“’M sorry if I was too much for ya, darlin’. Once ya started touchin’ me I couldn’t think straight.”

You silence him with a kiss, grabbing his face to make it deep. When you pull away your smile is ear to ear.

“If you make me feel like that, baby, there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Clyde moves to pull out of you, his cum now seeping out around his softening cock, but you tighten your legs around him suddenly.

“What happened to staying inside me, mister?” you tease.

Clyde stands abruptly, pulling you up with him still seated in your dripping cunt. Your gasp and scramble to hold onto him. He takes a few playful steps towards the door and you swat at him.

“No, I think yer right, darlin’. What better way tuh make cocktails than with my lil cockwarmer?”

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore

[literaryfic]

Episode 11 breakdown

chayenzo has reached their bonnie & clyde peak in this episode and i’m living for it.

cha-young TORTURING and KILLING the three killers and vincenzo not holding her back

vincenzo letting her take the lead while ‘interrogating’ them... WHILE HOLDING HER COFFEE

at one point he looks worried when she ups the toxic smoke(?) flow (i think he doesn’t want her to lash out and regret what she did) but he doesn’t stop her.

he looks at her when they say they want to answer for their crimes in front of the law and she says “and who would that benefit?”

he’s letting her handle this all throughout the scene, and he’s seeing first hand what she’s capable of, what’s she comfortable with and how far she’s willing to go (which is all the way)

their dynamic has changed a lot from the previous episodes. they’ve truly become partners IN CRIME. (murder couple!!!!).

and as a good husband he tells her he’ll help her throw the people who killed her dad in the tiger’s cage when they’re done using them.

him telling her she belongs in the mafia!!!!!!!!!!! he fully recognised her as one of his own, someone who is capable of the same atrocities as he is and who he can rely on and trust as his equal.

her not reacting negatively when she finds out the extent of vincenzo’s mafia past / when shown the pictures of his killings. she even takes the picture of one of his murders out the prosecutor’s hand....

the HUG scene!!!!!!!!!!!! the chayenzo one, i should say. i think this is the most transparent vincenzo’s feelings have been made for cha-young and the audience to see (excluding the scene where he watches sleep).

first, he doesn’t want to stop drinking and uses the snacks as an excuse to continue drinking until 4 am. i think it’s important because so far vincenzo has done everything he’s said he would do. he does not lie or goes back on his words easily, EXCEPT WHEN CHA-YOUNG IS INVOLVED. the only time he does it for something else, it’s because he breaks the promise of not hurting others. although we’ve seen before how he lied about buying wine, it could just be because he was aware they were being followed and wanted to make sure nothing happened. but here, he clearly says they’ll only drink until 2 am, and when 3 am comes, HE’S THE ONE TO ASK HER TO DRINK UNTIL 4. he uses yet another excuse bc he doesn’t want to part ways with her yet.

then, she apologises for hugging him all of a sudden and he says there’s no need to say sorry, because she was worried. HE NOT ONLY DOESN’T MIND, HE’S TELLING HER IT’S A NORMAL REACTION. i truly think this says a lot bc all throughout the episode vincenzo is being hugged and he HATES it. he’s not a touchy person (except with cha-young ofc) and doesn’t like to be touched. but not only does he hug cha-young BACK, he’s saying she’s allowed to do that. They’re both testing their boundaries with each other.

also, when cha-young tells him she doesn’t know if her heart was beating bc of the situation or bc of her feelings for him, he looks like his own heart is beating really fast!! he swallows, looks away... vincenzo cassano, the mafia consigliere with no fear, is NERVOUS bc of hong cha-young 😭

finally, the HUG. when she says she’s testing to see if she has feelings for him, he smiles bc he finds her cute and he says he won’t move BC HE WANTS HER TO HUG HIM. he smiles as she’s hugging him bc he likes it UNTIL she hugs him harder and he feels nervous again (like he doesn’t want her to hear his fast heartbeat hahaha.) and his holding the chair bc he wants to hug her but he’s holding himself back. and then they look at each other and i just know he doesn’t know what to do hahaha.

meanwhile, cha-young looks at him intensely and i can just TELL that when she says “ah, i was wrong, it was because it was a dangerous situation” she’s LYING YOUR HONOR. she has the softest expression on her face, she’s definitely deeply in love with him lol.

then when she goes back to lie down, vincenzo literally doesn’t know what to do with himself. you can see he’s almost distraught!!! and the way he looks and smiles at her really softly just proves he knows she’s lying as well lol.

i think it’s interesting how the background music from chayenzo’s hug scene introduces his scene with his mom

in this episode vincenzo truly deepens his roots in South Korea, first with cha-young, then his mom, and finally the tenants

it’s also super symbolic that he picks up a thread and gives it back to her haha. it means that instead of serving their relationship, he’s ready to come back to her. he’s healing from the scar of being abandoned and he’s forgiving her.

also am i the only one who thinks the mom lowkey suspects/knows he’s her son? i really can’t tell if she can tell or not....

CHA-YOUNG BEING JEALOUS OF MIRI/POSSESSIVE OF VINCENZO IS SOMETHING I DIDN’T I NEEDED. the way she pushes her chair and hides her face hahahaha... and then she holds his arm!!!!!!

cha-young also puts her hand on his shoulder a lot this episode. they’re so naturally touchy with each other, and the contrast between how vincenzo handles physical touch from literally anyone but cha-young makes it even more domestic 😭

ALSO, vincenzo asking cha-young to come with him when he’s arrested... the parallels between him saying ‘let’s go, lawyer-nim’ when he protects her and ‘come with me, lawyer-nim’ when he’s in trouble...... PARTNERS IN CRIME

the tenants being not only understanding of his past, but PROUD and IMPRESSED???? they respect him much more now than before 😭

the whole Mr. An scene was soooo cool and satisfying!!!!!!

today’s episode was just ‘everyone wants to fuck vincenzo because he’s hot’ and where is the lie???

the tenants throwing him A LITERAL PARADE when he’s back. CHA-YOUNG ASKING IF IT’S A WEDDING HALL WHILE RESTING HER HAND ON HIS SHOULDER AND EVERYONE THROWING CONFETTI AT THEM????? they’re married in canon idc

she even tells him “with all the support that you have, why don’t you make your own family here?” YOU TELL HIM, HE CAN JUST SETTLE HERE WITH THE GEUMGA GANG BC THEY HAVE HIS BACK AND STAY WITH YOU

the tenants telling him about the gold was so funny... hopefully V finds a way to get the gold and they all divide the money equally or something

now the scene where he tortures the arms dealer..... THIS IS THE HOTTEST SCENE IN THE DRAMA IDC IDC IDC

playing the Russian Roulette himself and not blinking an eye i’m— “there’s no limit to fear” your honor i know he murdered countless people but have you seen him at work???? who wouldn’t forgive him

I’m so glad we’re getting darker!vincenzo... i want to see the ruthless consigliere everyone fears !!!! more vengeance and murder everyone !!!!

i’m thankful they didn’t drag on the “who’s babo” story line bc that would’ve been frustrating. when vincenzo called cha-young and told her who junwoo was WHILE SHE WAS WITH HIM!! AND SHE ACTED SO PERFECTLY!!!

also she didn’t doubt vincenzo for a second and she straight up asks him if he’ll stick to the plan (of killing him) without a beat

this episode just showed that everyone in this show is a morally grey villain and i don’t think they’re going to be like ‘the main couple went to jail for a few years to pay for their crimes and then lived happily ever after’. if we follow that logic everyone has to go to jail for something loool. i want them to win with no consequences, get away with everything they did and destroy Babel, idc!!!!!!

[weareallstoriesintheend]

A writing request: Protective Clyde rescues reader from a guy being a little too handsy at the bar. Makes sure reader gets home safely. Super fluff/protective Clyde. Maybe ends with a 'thank you' kiss on the cheek. Annnddd I'm already crying thinking about you writing this

Safe & Sound (Reader x Clyde Logan) 

Note: For you @ladyinwriting18? Anything! 🥰

Part 1 of the Safe & Sound Series. Here is Part 2 & 3

Warnings: Creepy misogynistic bullshit. But also the fluffiest of fluff!  

Words: 2,407 

Smutty Part 2 - HERE

The smell of whiskey breath ghosting over your face made your stomach turn. You were just trying to have a quiet drink at the ‘Duck Tape’ after a long day at work and all of a sudden you were having your evening ruined by some overbearing guy with half a bottle of dutch courage behind him. “Seriously, I’m okay thank you” you said politely, trying to catch the eye of anyone who could get this guy off you. You were not one to be polite to guys that harass you usually but something about this guy’s overly aggressive lean towards you had put you on edge. All sorts of images and scenarios were flashing through your mind and your heart was starting to hammer in your chest. But just like always, just like you were taught from the time you can walk, you played it off by smiling sweetly and being as polite as possible. Annoyingly you’d chosen to sit in the back corner of the bar tonight so you had nowhere to go but past him. Your dress was high up on your thigh and you tried, subtly, to pull it down.   “Nah, come on sweetheart” he said with a smirk, flicking your long hair off your shoulder dragging his fingers purposely along your skin as he does it “Let me buy you a drink” You went to speak again, hoping to brush him off but the panic in you was rising. The feeling of his skin on yours had triggered something within you, you fidgeted your hands over each other on the bar top to stop them trembling. You looked up at him, mustering up that fake sweet smile again, turning to grab your jacket to leave – figuring this was the only way to get him to leave you alone – before you heard someone else speak.

“I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” you heard the deep drawl before you looked up. Clyde Logan was sidling his way across to where you were sat in the corner, the light of the bar was behind him like an aura. Your lumbering guardian angel. Honestly you’d never paid too much attention to him, he was just… Clyde. He’d been around forever except for when you’d returned from college and found out he was off in Iraq. Clyde was just the big grumpy bartender who made a mean vodka cranberry for you every Friday night; the same grumpy bartender who always slipped in an extra lime because he knew you liked it. You gave him a relieved smile as you caught his eye; he instantly turned his attention back to the guy leaning against you as he piped up once more. “Oh come on Clyde, I was only havin’ a bit of fun” he slurred, giving him a hacking laugh before slipping his hand up your arm and onto your shoulder. You instantly tensed up, skin crawling as you could feel the sweat drip from his forehead on your bare shoulder as he propped himself against you. “Oh I’m sure ya are. But see, I don’t think she finds it very fun do you darlin’?” Clyde said looking at you out the corner of his eye and you shook your head. “Now I’m asking ya to leave cause you’re making my customers uncomfortable. I’m damn sure this woman, nice as she is, doesn’t want your hands all over her now does she?” You shook your head again and the guy looked at you, having the audacity to scoff in offense at your response before turning back to Clyde with a grin. But Clyde kept talking “Her shakin’ her head there? That’s her sayin’ no. Got that? So I’m goin’ to ask you one more time to get off her. Look at her… sweet like a little bird she is, she don’t need your big greasy paws all over her like that” The drunk guy sneered and jostled your shoulders in a jovial way, trying to show Clyde how you were at ease you supposed, and you felt his metal watch strap nick your skin at the back of your neck and you hissed softly at the pain. There was a sudden thud and you looked down; Clyde had grabbed the guy’s free arm that was resting on the bar with his flesh hand. He gave it a sudden tug and the guy gave a high-pitched yelp as he was pulled closer to Clyde and off you. “I said… I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” Clyde repeated. You knew sweet, quiet Clyde could have a temper when he needed one; you’d seen him strong-arm a few guys out on their asses a few times over the years. You’d always quietly admired how sturdy and wide his body looked, comfortable and yet solid. So when he did things like that you’d silently sip your drink, pretending you weren’t watching his bicep bulge under his long-sleeved shirt as he grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck or twist their arm behind their back and haul them out the bar. Another bar patron, an older guy, was walking past this little scene and shot the drunk guy a knowing look before giving his input “Now Billy! Logan here’s got two tours under his belt. Show the guy some respect. Make yourself scarce, come on” Clyde shoo’d this new guy off with a tilt of his head and the guy threw his hands up in surrender before walking away. Billy let out another hacking laugh that made you flinch slightly in your seat, it was full of contempt and far too much confidence for a man in his position “What do you think ya goin’ to do Logan? One arm freak ain’t gunna do nothin’ to me!” “I think you’ll find that I still have my arm, just my forearm and hand that’s missin’. I still got enough to break this arm of yours in three places if you don’t leave this beautiful young lady alone” “Oh I see, Little Logan got a crush” Billy grinned cockily at him, spittle was flying out of his mouth as he slurred and it made you cringe as you saw it landing on Clyde’s dark blue shirt. You started to panic again, you didn’t know what Clyde was going to do next and you shot him a look. You didn’t want him to get himself in trouble for you and after everything that had had happened at the speedway you worried that one little thing would get the cops on

his ass again. He caught your panicked expression and gave you a contemplative pout before turning his head back to Billy. He dragged Billy a little closer so he was bent uncomfortably; you could see his belt cutting deep into his side, pressed into him by the wood of the bar. He was flinching and groaning in Clydes strong grasp, when Clyde spoke he was close to his face and his voice was a low, slow and dangerously calm growl “Now somethin’ tell me this precious, good woman here wants me to spare you the pain I was plannin’ on givin’ ya, kind as she is. So I’m goin’ to let you go but if I ever see you so much as look at her again I’ll show you what two tours in Iraq teaches ya. Got it?” You watched as Billy quickly gathered up his jacket that was hanging haphazardly from the chair he had been sitting on and skitter out the bar like a dog with its tail between its legs. Clyde gave you a pouty but satisfied nod before calmly going back to washing glasses.

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The bar was closing in around an hour so Clyde made you another drink, extra lime as always, to steel your nerves. As he walked around, picking up after people and saying goodnight to the stragglers he kept a close eye on you. Always looking back over his shoulder to where you were sat. You smiled every time he looked at you, several times you thought about getting up to leave for the night but he always caught your eye and something in his look made you sip your drink a little slower. Maybe you should stick around.

“He didn’t hurt you or nothing did he?” Clyde said in a low voice so the last people that were leaving couldn’t hear him. Part of you wondered if he was embarrassed to be helping you but then you realised, as he turned his body to literally shield you from the gaze of the rest of the patrons in the bar, he was protecting your privacy. “No Clyde, I’m fine thank you” you smiled, brushing your dress down awkwardly trying to ease the tension. Clyde was a man of few words usually but he made up for it in the intensity of his stare and right now that stare was focussed purely on you. His eyes roamed over you and it made a heat rise up on the back of your neck. He made a grunting noise, almost to himself, and he leaned over the bar to fetch a napkin. He turned the tap on that was over the small bar sink and dipped the napkin under the running water. You gave him a look, raising your eyebrow in question and he nodded to you shoulder. You looked down and noticed a small trail of dried blood running down your shoulder from where the guy had cut you with his watch. “Can I touch ya? Is that okay?” he asked, eyes soft and concerned as he studied you. You nodded shyly and he leant forward and wiped the napkin over your skin gently. You watched his hand carefully, the huge size of it compared to your arm making you bite back a giggle. The cold of his horseshoe ring brushing lightly against your skin made you break into goosebumps. He dabbed and patted to make sure he got it all wiped away “There ya go, all cleaned up” He gave your arm a stroke with his thick knuckles, like he was doubly making sure you were all squared away. Clyde Logan didn’t smile very much, you always thought his signature grumpy pout was actually quite endearing, but in this moment as you gazed up at him he gave you the smallest, most tender smile and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. “You don’t have to take care of me you know?” you whispered, he shook his head as he hopped up on the bar and swung himself back over. “Well of course I do, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that!” You gave him a small push to his chest that barely moved him “You stop that!” you laughed, he chuckled as you dipped your head down, letting your hair hide the growing blush on your cheeks. “I only speak the truth darlin’” he said turning to wander over to the cash register “Give me 2 minutes to check todays takins’ and I’ll drive ya home” You scoffed and dropped off your high bar stool onto your feet “You really don’t need to do that, I’m sure that guy is long gone” “Well I can’t just let ya go home on your on now can I? What kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?” he said, you swear you saw him smirk to himself and he pushed his hip into the cash register to close it. He turned to you, swinging his jacket off the hook on the wall and around his shoulders. “Oh Clyde, you’re sweet but I’ll be okay” You stepped forward as you spoke and helped him pull his jacket over his prosthetic arm “Really! I don’t live too far, you know that! It’s only a mile round the corner I can walk it” You flushed at his forwardness and unexpected level of care he was showing you. The heat was rising up on the fact of your neck again and you couldn’t quite decide if it was embarrassment or something a little more intimate. “Nonsense, I won’t hear another word on the matter” he shot you another smile; you quite liked this more relaxed Clyde. There was something about that shy smile that made you accept his offer with a small nod. “Perfect. Let me grab my keys and I’ll drive ya”

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You hopped down out of his truck as he opened the passenger door for you, which he had insisted on doing; he’d even held out his prosthetic arm for you to use to steady yourself as you dropped unsteadily onto your driveway. You’d thanked him quietly and he’d responded “Nothing but the best for the princess” making you giggle and elbow his side jokingly. You both wandered down the driveway in comfortable silence, nothing but crickets and the crunch of gravel beneath both your shoes.

“Safe and sound now aren’t ya” he said, tapping your front door absentmindedly with his knuckle, watching you wrestle your keys out of your bag. You chuckled and nodded, before you could give yourself a second to overthink it you pitched up on your tip toes, pulling him down slightly with your a small hand on his wide shoulder, and placed a timid kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Clyde” you whispered. You giggled slightly as a noticeable pink blush bloomed across his cheeks and he shook his head and stuttered “N-no thanks necessary sweetheart”

You put your key in the lock and he turned to leave with a courteous nod goodnight. As you pushed open the door breathing out a tightly held in sigh, suddenly thankful to be in the comfort of your own home, you heard him say your name. You spun to see him a few feet away from you, rocking on his heels slightly “Come by the bar tomorrow night? I’ll make you another one of those cranberry drinks you like and…I’d errr… I’d love to see ya”

Now it was your turn to blush, you hoped he couldn’t see it in the shadow of your doorway

“I’d love too. See you then” you replied, giving him a small wave before going inside.

Maybe you should have paid more attention to the big grumpy bear behind the bar because it turns out, he’s rather sweet.

[barbers-glimmerin-darlin]

Bartender

Clyde Logan x Reader (Oneshot)

My first Clyde fic!

Summary: Heavily inspired by the song Bartender by Lana Del Rey, it’s the one year anniversary since you first set eyes on Clyde Logan. 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of food/eating, mentions of family tensions

Word count: 3.2k

You felt the warm sun stroking your skin as it filtered through the window, it was rising over the mountains to greet your bleary eyes as you gently blinked them open. You were encompassed by a soft warmth all around your body from the blankets on your bed, the heat of the day not yet stifling enough to become uncomfortable. There was, of course, another source of heat in the bed with you, the thought made a sleepy smile curl across your lips. Clyde. 

You could feel his monumental body stretched out under yours, his long frame making use of the entire length of the bed. You could see his feet, coming dangerously close to dangling off the edge of the mattress, as you looked down from the position your head occupied on his sturdy chest. His steady heartbeat thrummed gently under your ear, almost lulling you back to sleep, it was the most beautiful sound in the world to you, the strong beat of that big old heart. 

You allowed yourself a moment to memorise the texture of his worn t-shirt underneath your fingertips, and the rhythmic puffs of his breaths across the crown of your head. He smelled like sleep, pine, and sandalwood, the familiar scent made your head fuzzy in the most comforting way. Your big bear. 

As much as you wanted to stay in this cocoon with your sleepy bear all day, you roused yourself to delicately slip out of his secure embrace, smiling as you heard his grumble. You made sure he was back in the depths of sleep, jet black waves sticking out every which way across the pillows, arm without its prosthesis slung across his belly, his other splayed out where your body had just been. Your eyes lingered on him for just a moment, committing the way the morning sun chased the shadows from his face to memory, before making your way quietly to the kitchen. 

The sight of your little kitchen bathed in gentle creamy sunlight warmed your entire body, which had already started to cool from the absence of Clyde’s arms. You’d gotten up early today to make Clyde his favourite breakfast, burnt bacon and eggs, because it was a special day today. It was a year ago today that you had first walked into Duck Tape, it was a year ago today that your life changed forever.

***

Your eyes blinked wearily as you scanned each passing road sign, desperate for a place to pull in for the night. You’d been driving for hours, so many hours you’d lost count, and now you were in the middle of Boone County, wherever the hell that was, with no idea of what to do. 

Up ahead you noticed a wooden structure set off to the side of the road, with red and green lights illuminated outside. A motel? You could only hope. You decided you really had no choice but to pull in and check it out, whatever it was there was probably someone there to ask for direction to the nearest hotel. 

You pulled your truck into the modest parking lot and surveyed the building in front of you, the lights lit up a sign that proudly declared this place to be ‘Duck Tape’, and it was evidently a bar. Your stomach tightened slightly, not exactly what you had in mind, and you weren’t sure that going into some backwater bar in the middle of some random county in West Virginia at 11pm on a Friday night was a good idea. But you sort of didn’t have a choice really, did you?

You took a deep breath and gathered your nerves as you exited the truck, stumbling a little as you stepped out, tired and completely unused to the vehicle you were driving. You walked up to the wooden door of the bar and pushed it open, praying that this wasn’t a bar full of inebriated creeps. 

The bar was warmly lit inside, and rock music filtered through the air from the jukebox you spotted against one of the walls. The bar wasn’t packed out, but there were a few patrons scattered around the bar and in the booths, talking and laughing and just making merry with one another. It didn’t escape your notice that many eyes shot towards you as you entered, perhaps this was a bar that usually welcomed locals, and here you were, a completely new face. 

You pushed your fluttering nerves down as you edged over to the bar, locating a seat to slide yourself onto. Behind the bar you could see the bartender, but only his back as he was serving a man on the other side of the bar. He was a big guy, tall, his shoulders were wide under his dark blue shirt. His hair was long too, and sort of shaggy, brushing across those broad shoulders as he poured his customer a sizeable glass of what looked to be whiskey. 

“On the house Earl, for helpin’ me fix the sign last week.” You heard the bartender say, his voice was deep and slow, the twang of his accent warmed his words in a cadence that shivered up and down your spine in a pleasant way. 

“Yer a good man Clyde.” The customer, Earl, said as he took a pull from his glass. Earl’s eyes caught sight of you as he placed his glass back down on the polished wood of the bar, and he said something to the bartender, Clyde, that you didn’t quite catch.

It must have been about you though, as the huge bartender turned to you as Earl had finished speaking. You were greeted with the sight of the warmest brown puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen in your life. He was beautiful, that was your first thought upon seeing his soft face. 

His big brown eyes sat alight in his handsome face, his nose was strong and prominent. But his lips captured attention most notably, plump lips, set into a neutral pout. You’d never seen someone look so pretty and so masuline at the same time, he looked like a big grizzly bear with the profile of a soft little pup. Quite stunning. 

“Evenin’ miss.” He said, his voice was just loud to carry over the noise of the bar to your ears. He stepped across to stand in front of you, and you sat up a little straighter, giving him your warmest smile despite your tension. 

“Evening to you too! I don’t want to bother you for too long, I can see you’ve got a lot on your hands, I was just wondering if there was a motel around here somewhere?” You asked, somewhat in a rush to get the words out. One of his eyebrows quirked up minutely as he placed his hands on the bar, and it was only then that you noticed that he had a prosthetic hand strapped to his left arm, naturally you began to wonder the circumstances behind the missing limb. 

“It ain’t no bother at all ma’am, there’s a motel a few miles down the road from here.” He told you, your tension began to ease at his kind reassurance, and you were instantly relieved to hear that you wouldn’t have to sleep in the truck tonight. 

“That’s great, thank you so much for your help!” You smiled at him, moving to get up off your seat so you could go in search of this motel.

“Why don’t you let me call ahead fer ya, make sure they have a room spare?” Clyde asks, making you still your movements. You hadn’t even considered that the motel might not be able to accommodate you, how thoughtful of him.

“Oh, actually yeah that’d be really helpful. My phone’s kinda dead.” You said with an awkward laugh at the end, you saw his soft eyes crease up slightly as he gave you a small smile. 

“Can I get a drink for ya, while ya wait?” He asked, and you were glad he did because you’d barely had anything to drink since you set off driving in the early hours of the morning, and you were now suddenly aware of how parched you were.

“Yes please, just a soft drink if you have any, I’m driving.” You explained and he nodded, crouching down to see into the fridge below the bar. 

“I’m all outta regular cola but I got a few cans of cherry flavour?” He asked, still obscured by the bar. 

“That’s perfect, thanks.” You responded, watching as he stood again. He placed the bright red can on the bar, the metal frosty due to the chilled temperature of the drink. “Would ya like a glass miss?” He asked, gosh he was just so polite, you thought idly, he spoke like a gentleman. 

“Oh no, don’t worry about it.” You said, cracking the can open and taking a long sip, relishing the cool liquid sliding down your dry throat. Clyde seemed to be deep in thought, looking at you as you did so with those curious eyes, he then seemed to snap back to reality. 

“I’ll just go give ‘em a call, Earl will ya watch the bar a sec?” He calls over his shoulder to Earl who grunts his consent, Clyde flashes you another pretty smile before disappearing through a door to what you assume was some kind of office. 

You preoccupied yourself with your drink, the sweet taste waking you up a little, but also making you aware of the hunger in your stomach. 

Clyde wasn’t gone long, he appeared back behind the bar and immediately came over to where you were seated with your almost empty drink.

“They’re getting a room ready for ya miss, the lady that runs the place is real sweet, you’ll get a good night's sleep there.” He told you, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink, almost like he was blushing. 

“I really can’t thank you enough, also you don’t have to call me miss” You laughed, proceeding to give him your name. The beginnings of the blush flared to an unmistakable rosy pink on the apples of his cheeks, you found your heart fluttering at the sight of this big, shy man.

“That’s a real pretty name.” He said quietly, still giving you eye contact. It was your turn to blush when the sound of your stomach rumbling interrupted the little moment between you and the bear in front of you.

“Pardon me I didn’t even think to ask if ya wanted somethin’ to eat. I can get ya some fries if you’d like?” He asked, his eyes widening as if he’d just committed an atrocious offence against you. You couldn’t deny that your mouth watered at the offering of food. 

“Please, if it’s not too much trouble.” You said, still embarrassed at your stomach's loud rumbling. 

“Ain’t no trouble at all.” He reassured yet again, disappearing through another door this time. He was gone for a little while, and when he came back he had a basket full of thin cut french fries in one hand, and bottles of a few different sauces tucked under his other arm, all of which he placed down in front of you. 

You thanked him again before tucking into the food, thoroughly enjoying every mouthful, your stomach happy to be filled. The bar was quietening down now, just a few people dotted around, the noise levels dropping significantly. 

Clyde edged back over to you as you finished your meal, another cherry Coke ready in his hand which he set down in front of you, you smiled at the action. 

“So, yer not from round here?” He asked, wiping down the stretch of bar next to you that had recently been vacated. 

“No I’m not local, just found myself here.” You told him, unsure of how to explain why you’d found yourself in such an unfamiliar neck of the woods. 

“Come to see family?” He enquired politely, clearly not wishing to probe too deeply, but just trying to make conversation with you. It was nice, someone just wanting to have a simple conversation with you. 

“Quite the opposite actually I’d say.” You mumbled, looking down at the bar as you toyed with the ring-pull on your drink. You felt his eyes searching your face, he must have noticed your suddenly morose expression.

“I don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable or nothin’ but, if ya wanna get anythin’ off yer chest, there’s no better person to talk to than a bartender.” He said quietly, his voice taking on a soft light tone at the end as he joked. Suddenly, there was no person on this earth you wanted to talk to more than this kind stranger, and there was no place you wanted to be more than this wood panelled bar. 

“Oh you know how it is with family…” You started, and then you just talked to him. You told him about how up until this morning, you’d found yourself completely trapped. You were trapped in a family that expected so much of you, impossible expectations that seemed to crush you under their weight. You were trapped in a job that demanded so much more than it gave back, you were miserable, and no one was listening to you, they just kept telling you to try harder, to do more. 

So you left, you bought a shitty truck from a second hand car lot last night with some of your savings, loaded your essentials into the trunk and had set off driving this morning. You’d delivered a letter to your parents house, explaining that you’d call them when you’d found somewhere to stay, you’d called work and told them you quit, and just drove. That’s how you’d found yourself at Duck Tape, talking to Clyde, feeling more relaxed than you had in months. 

He was an active participant in the conversation, asking you questions where the opportunity arose, telling you about himself in return. You learned that he owned the bar, and that he had a brother and sister who also lived in Boone County. The pair of you talked for hours, until the bar emptied out completely, you learned how he’d lost his hand while serving in Iraq, and your heart seized to think of him in danger and in pain. 

It was 1am before you realised how long you’d been talking for, Clyde had abandoned his post behind the bar after his last patron left and the pair of you had relocated to a booth where the seats were cushioned and comfortable. 

“Oh my God Clyde, why didn’t you say how late it was! I’m sorry for talking your ear off for so long!” You exclaimed, finally noticing the time. Clyde hadn’t appeared to notice how late it was either as he checked his watch, eyebrows raising when he saw the time. 

“Listen here it was my pleasure, you must be dead beat.” He said as he stood up in sync with you and began collecting the empty Coke cans from the table. 

“Let me settle my bill and then I’ll get out of your hair.” You told him, moving back over to the bar where the cash register was, pulling your purse out of your bag. 

“On the house.” He said simply, placing the cans on the bar at the side of you, you turned to look at him and found him smiling gently down at you. 

“Clyde I’ve had so many drinks, not to mention the fries, I can’t just not pay-” You began to protest but he cut you off.

“Hey, just don’t go telling my boss.” He said, a handsome smirk on his full lips, he winked at you after his little joke and you couldn’t help but smile back at him, heart swelling. 

“You’re just too kind Clyde Logan.” You told him, watching that rosy colour paint his cheeks again, you took in every little mole and freckle that decorated his face, desperate to memorise everything about this night. 

“Let me walk ya to your car, it’s dark out.” He said, very gently placing his hand on the small of your back and exiting the bar, crossing the lot to your truck. His hand was warm against you, even through the fabric of your shirt. It was a welcome sensation, it made you feel safe and secure, you’d quite forgotten what that felt like until you met Clyde. 

As you unlocked the truck he opened the door for you, and before you got in you turned to look up at him, his height eclipsing yours. 

“Thank you so much for Clyde, for everything tonight. I’ve had a really good time.” You tell him, making sure he knew you meant every word. You could see the delight touch his face as he overcame his bashfulness to reply. 

“Well, like I said, it was my pleasure. Swing by anytime ya like. If yer around that is- not that I expect a bright girl like you to hang around here- what I mean is that- if ever yer passin’ through-” You could see Clyde stumbling around, trying to find the words he wanted to stay but clearly getting flustered. You placed your hand on his bicep, noting how big it was, and his eyes snapped back to yours.

“I’ll definitely be back Clyde.” You told him, and you meant it. 

You parted ways and he watched your truck leave the lot, he watched it all the way down the road, until he couldn’t see it anymore. He even called the motel half an hour later to make sure you’d gotten there safe, not that you knew he’d done that, but he needed to know you were safe for the night.

***

You heard heavy footsteps treading towards the kitchen as you finished up frying the bacon, placing the burned slices onto a plate with the fluffy scrambled eggs and the pancakes you’d decided on. It wasn’t long before you felt two gigantic arms wind around your waist from behind, a warm face pressing soft kisses into your neck, and shaggy black hair tickling your cheek, your big bear. 

“Mornin’ cherry pie.” He said in a husky voice, right next to your ear. It warmed you from deep inside your belly, radiating out to all your extremities. You leaned back into him and turned your head to kiss his cheek. 

“Mornin’ handsome.” He smiled before swooping down to kiss you squarely on the lips, it was chaste and understated, but it made your tummy do backflips. 

“Somethin’ smells good, angel.” He noted, his eyes travelling to the plates of food, you could tell his was ready to absolutely devour his breakfast, and then probably devour you shortly after, randy big thing that he was. 

“Nothing but the best for today.” You told him sweetly, moving out of the circle of his arms and taking the plates to the little kitchen table. Clyde hung back for a second and observed you, just enjoying watching you exist. He was the luckiest man alive, he was absolutely sure of it. 

“One year since the best day of my life.” He said softly, coming to sit down with you, taking your hand in his and stroking his large thumb across your knuckles.

You never did leave Boone County after that night. Your parents didn’t approve of your choice, and you didn’t have a big fancy-pants job here. But you worked in a flower shop, something you’d always dreamed of, and you had the man of your dreams by your side. You were happy, you were finally happy, you and your bartender. 

[babbushka]

For sinday, I’d like to request some exhibitionism with Clyde please! Some skinny dipping with him would be extra fun with a chance of getting caught. I saw the skinny dipping prompt line and it sounds fun for him. Thank you for all your writing:)

1.2k, skinny dipping in a public park/public nudity but no real NSFW, just naked people having a nice time!

He’s in a real sour sorta mood, watching you splash around with that great big grin on your face. It ain’t your fault or nothin’, he likes that you’re having fun – he just wishes he could have fun with you too. The weather was too nice to stay cooped up indoors all day, so Clyde had bugged and bugged ya to go out somewhere to soak up the sun, take a dip and splash about himself…only for him to forget to bring his swimmin’ gear when you finally agreed.

So as you had run down to the river’s edge, dove beneath the clear blue waves and surfaced with a shocked laugh at the chill of the water, Clyde kicks himself for screwin’ up, especially when you call to him with a grin and a wave,

“Come on in, the water’s fine!”

He wishes he could, he really does. He had managed to pack everything that y’all would need for a perfect day by the river: a picnic basket stocked with goodies, little battery powered radio, blow up balls and inner tubes, towels and a big sheet to put everything down on, sunblock o’course and lots of fresh water. Hell, he had even brought a book to read through while you sunbathe like you like to do – but the one fuckin’ thing he needed most of all, he forgot.

“You sure ‘bout that darlin’? Looks mighty cold t’me.” He stalls for time, hopin’ that you won’t tease him too bad for his error, as he walks in as far as his camo shorts would let him, feelin’ the rush of the cool water and pebbles between his toes.

“Nah it’s beautiful, honest!” You insist, before dunkin’ under the water and surfacing again, this time much much closer to him, puttin’ on one of his signature pouts and askin’, “Won’t ya please come join?”

Clyde can’t deny you anything, but he also is in a right pickle that he finally admits, with a sheepish, “I – I didn’t bring a suit.”

You frown for a minute, before giving him an exasperated groan as you flop into the water, purposefully splashing him as you start floatin’ up on your back.

“Now why the hell would you not bring a suit, big bear? Goin’ to the park was your idea in the first place!” You pointed out with a laugh, and despite it all, Clyde finds he’s chucklin’ too. You always had a way of bein’ playfully teasin’ that never made him feel too bad.

“Guess I just forgot in all the hubbub.” Shyly, he tried wading in the river a little deeper, watchin’ as the water lapped around his calves.

You’re watching him watchin’ the water, and then like the minx that you are, you shimmy yourself over to him, standin’ up and tuggin’ on the hem of his button-down.

“You could always just take your shirt off.” You suggest, and Clyde mulls that over.

“Then m’shorts would be all soaked.” He replies, to which you only grin.

“You could take those off too.” With a waggle of your brow, you very slowly reach out and undo the little button, easing down his zipper with a soft, “Oops, my hand slipped.”

Clyde looks at you, and you look back at him, and you can start to see a pink flush creep across the bridge of his nose that you know ain’t from the sun.

“Oh yeah?” Clyde looks around, the park blissfully empty for once, “What if someone comes?”

“Then we hide under the water ‘til they leave.” You only sink back into the water, and go to where it’s deeper deeper deeper, until just your head is peeking out from the surface as you have the most devilish look in your eye.

“I’ll do it if you take your suit off.” Clyde says, accepting this little challenge with eager anticipation.

“Really?” You give him a chance to change his mind, but he finds he doesn’t really want to.

“Yup.” He nods, before he nearly gets tongue tied as you lift your hand up from out under the water, holding up the bikini top you had just been wearin’. Clyde chuckles, and after a moment or two of shiftin’ around, your other hand holds up the matching bottoms. “Damn darlin’, you are fearless, ain’t ya?”

Giving him a little shrug, you leave your bathing suit on a nearby rock, crookin’ your finger at him to join. He had agreed, after all.

Clyde looks over his shoulder to make sure no one was comin’ in any direction, and then carefully, swiftly, shucks his own clothes off, and makes a bee-line straight for the water. He gets a runnin’ start and dives underneath, swimmin’ and holdin’ his breath until he can get to you and grab you around your hip, makin’ you shout and squeal with laughter as you try and swim away.

The two of you chase one another like that, water and sunshine sparkling onto your naked bodies, his usually fluffy and wavy hair drenched and hangin’ in his face. When he catches you, he scoops you up into his arms and spins you around for a little while, before throwin’ you right back into the water with a happy yell as your stomach does ticklish flips.

You in turn jump onto his back, and try to knock him down into the water with one of them wrestling moves you saw on TV – it don’t work too well, but you’re both havin’ so much fun – too much fun that you don’t notice that all the roughhousing has made the water knock your bathing suit off the rock, the tide carryin’ it out.

“Ah shit, Clyde wait! Dammit it’s floatin’ away! That’s my favorite suit, help me catch it?” You notice a little too late, the theatrics shifting to an altogether different kind.

Instead of tryin’ to chase one another, the two of you now scramble to race after the bikini that’s havin’ a fine time of stayin’ just out of reach. Through the river y’all run, splashing and laughing on your way as you each try to grab the little scrap of fabric, climbin’ over rocks and carefully navigatin’ the current of the river so you don’t trip on the slippery stones.

At any moment someone could come by, and see the two of your bare bodies, and then you can’t even imagine the world of trouble you’d be in. It wasn’t like the two of you were kids again jumpin’ into the lake off the Logan family property, this was a public park and you were grown adults! The stakes to grabbin’ the swimsuit were high for that reason if nothin’ else – not to mention it really was your favorite thing to wear.

Clyde is the hero of the day though, when he finally manages to snatch the bottoms first, then the top a few seconds later as it got wedged between two rocks. You cheered and jumped up against his chest, your arms loopin’ around his shoulders as you planted a big victory smooch to his cheeks, makin’ him go all blushy again.

“Thank you big bear!” You smile against his lips as you kiss and kiss and kiss him, “I love you.”

“I love you too honey.” Clyde says in his own shy soft sweet way o’his, his arm windin’ around your middle. He pulls back and rubs his nose against yours, givin’ you a cheeky smile as he throws you back into the river with a surprised shout of protest and laughs, “Race you back!”

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

Taggin’ some Clyde lovin’ friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @drake-bells-waxed-penis @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @leillaa @lovinghufflepuffgirl @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @groovetoob @bxnnywriting

[bothcreativitybois]

The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 3

Wordcount: 2955

Ship: Intruality

TWs: Food, horses, dogs, skipping meals, a little bit of past angst, sexual references, swearing 

Taglist: @star-crossed-shipper @crazydemigod666 @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @seraphiie @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin 

Remus flung out of the truck and smashed on the bakery door. 

“Wakey wakey!” Remus shouted at the doors. Above him a window opened. Patton smiled down radiantly. The cold night breeze rustled his hair dreamily while Remus’ long locks thrash slightly.

Remus you dumbass! He isn’t used to this!

“You’re an impatient one, Mr Grinch.” Patton joked.

“Actually it’s Mr Manzana.” Remus shouted back. “Are you coming down or not?” Patton giggled and closed the window. A few seconds later he appeared beside the building.

“So where are we going?” Patton asked as Remus walked up to him. Remus laughed.

“The best place in town, which is conveniently also the only place.” Remus joked. Patton followed him down the street to a little restaurant with a yellow sign. Remus opened the door for Patton as they entered the small restaurant. There were a handful of tables set up with only one in use. Remus walked over to greet the small family at the table. Patton followed awkwardly.

“Remus!” A gruff father looking figure shouted and pat Remus on the back. “Good ta see ya.” Also at the table were two small children and an elderly lady.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” The elderly lady chimed in. Remus smiled widely while Patton just sort of shrank behind him.

“Staying out of trouble as much as possible.” Remus chuckled, both the adults laughed.

“Which for you isn’t possible.” The man laughed heartily. Remus smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Clyde, let me introduce you to Patton.” Remus held a hand out as to present Patton. The man looked at him happily.

“Great to meet ya.” Clyde stood up and enveloped Patton’s hand in a strong handshake.

“You too.” Patton said meekly. The large man laughed.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Clyde joked. “Remus however…” He elbowed Remus who pulled a fake innocent face.

“These darling angels are Taylor and June.” Remus ruffled the hair of the two children who both tried to push his hand away. “And this is Ms Cath. She taught me when I was the kids' sizes.” The elderly lady stood up and hugged Patton. The hug was soothing, it reminded him of his mother. He thought about how long it’s been since he was hugged… a couple months?

“Welcome to our little town, honey.” Ms Cath soothed. “Well let you two get back to it. But if you ever need anything then just stop by the school and see me.” The old lady winked. Remus put a hand on Patton’s back and after a few more words with the family guided Patton to their own table. Patton looked around the restaurant. Not in a nervous way, just the way you do when you enter a new place. The people he’d just met were chatting happily and enjoying their food.  Remus snapped his fingers to get Patton’s attention.

“Hey so the waiter is a friend of mine and he has some unique features. Don’t to stare, it upsets him.” Remus whispered. Patton nodded politely just as the waiter in question showed up.

“So this is the baker I heard about?” The waiter said. Patton looked up to see a little name tag reading ‘Janus’. The man had a large black birthmark and a lazy eye. He figured that’s what Remus meant. 

“I like your hair.” Patton smiled. Janus touched the small bun his dreads were pulled back in. His face was surprised.

“Thanks.” He turned to Remus. “You getting what you always get?” Remus laughed.

“Don’t fix what ain’t broke.” Remus confirmed with a wide smile. “And an extra for my friend here.” Janus nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Great. I’ll be off work at midnight so if you plan on taking ‘your friend’ home then please be done by then.” Janus said calmly and walked away. Patton blushed but Remus simply laughed. He looked down at Patton, he realised how uncomfortable he looked.

He reached across the table and grabbed Patton’s hand. He noticed a small tattoo on Patton’s wrist he hadn’t seen before, a little frog.

“Sorry, I kinda threw you in the deep end there.” Remus apologised. “Janus was just joking around, he’s really nice albeit a little dry and blunt.” Remus attempted to reassure Patton, it seemed to work as he released the tension in his shoulders a bit and nodded. Remus pulled his hand away.

“Everyone here seems really nice.” Patton said. Remus smiled and looked around. 

“It’s that small town spirit.” Remus replied. “When everyone knows everyone no one is really mean… well except for some of the older families who have weird rivalries but that’s a story for another day.” Remus was so calm, it was weird. Usually he was bouncing off the walls by now but something about Patton was keeping him on the ground.

“Tell me about growing up here?” Patton asked. Remus took a deep breath. There were thousands of stories racing around his head and he needed to find a way to summarise them all.

“It’s chaotic but somehow also predictable.” He eventually answered. “From the outside it’s like a horse rolling around on it’s back. It looks ridiculous but it knows exactly what it’s doing.” Patton was amused by the analogy. He understood that Remus was a country kid but now he was just being cliché. Not to mention Patton knew next to nothing about horses.

“And what does it mean when a horse rolls around?” Patton asked, genuinely curious about the silly behaviour of horses. Remus’ face lit up.

“Most the time it means they got colic and are trying to dislodge whatever got stuck. But if it’s a younger philly they could just be having fun. Colic isn’t serious though, usually it’s solved just by leading it for a walk or a shot of penicillin.” Remus explained. Patton watched how Remus’ eyes sparkled as he talked, he seemed a lot more in his element. “Colic is what keeps the vets round here in business. Pretty much everyone has a horse and the farms all have at least three. I got one still livin’ at my parents place, I’ve been meaning to move her to mine but she’s scared to death of trailers and I don’t have the ti-” Remus was cut off by a groan from Janus who had appeared with two plates.

“Kraken is fine on the farm, they have good use for her.” Janus began. “If we brought her to our place she’d be stuck in a paddock all day and only get ridden every week or so.” Janus placed down the plates with two tall burgers. “Two lamb burgers, one with extra pickle and barbeque sauce.” Janus pulled a face as he announced the last part.

“Thanks.” Patton smiled happily. Janus nodded and walked away. Patton looked over at Remus who was taking pickles off his burger and putting them on a napkin. “Why did you order extra pickles if you aren’t eating them?” Patton was confused. Remus looked up and smiled devilishly. He liked pickles, but always ordered extra for something special.

“You’ll see.” Remus winked as he wrapped up the pickles and put them in his pocket. 

The two men didn’t talk much as they ate. Remus was used to being the kind to devour food quickly while everyone else told him to slow down, so he was surprised when he saw Patton finished his burger first. Patton was just happy to be eating real food again.

“You finished that fast.” Remus said as he took the last bite of his burger. Patton looked up and blushed. Truthfully it was the first thing he’d eaten today, he had skipped breakfast and was too stressed to eat while working. Patton laughed awkwardly. Remus reeled, he meant it as a compliment but was worried Patton didn’t take it that way. “I mean that in a good way, pancake. It’s hard to find people who can keep up with me.” Remus quickly added. Patton giggled. Remus stood to leave but Patton stopped him.

“Wait! We need to pay.” Patton fretted. Remus looked over Patton and winked at Janus, he sighed and waved them away. Patton watched the weird exchange and didn’t notice Remus grab his hand to pull him out of the restaurant. He was tugged out so fast he nearly fell down but he couldn’t help but laugh. Remus pulled him down the dark street as they both cackled.

“Where are we going?” Patton asked through the laughs. Remus looked back and flashed a brilliantly evil smile.

“You wanted a tour, didn’t you?” Remus said as he halted to a stop. Patton nearly ran right into him if it wasn’t for Remus’ outstretched arm. “Here is where we start!” Remus pointed to the building in front of them. A brick building with a clock above the door.

“Mindville Council Hall?” Patton read from the sign next to him. Remus shook his head and shook his pointed hand. Patton followed the line of sight to, “The… clock?” Remus nodded excitedly so fast he looked like he might burst. He reached into his pocket and took out the napkin from the restaurant.

“The clock hasn’t worked in years.” Remus said as he took a pickle from the napkin, he handed the rest to Patton. “This is a way better use for it anyway.” With that Remus hucked the pickle slice into the air towards the clock, it hit the glass cover with a barely audible splat. Remus would come here as a kid and throw all sorts of things, but he found out quickly that pickles were not only the most accessible but also stuck the best. Remus celebrated with a loud cheer and took the pickles from Patton. “Give it a try.” Patton gently took a pickle and looked up at the clock. It was at least ten meters up.

“I’m not sure I can get it…” Patton conceded. Remus took a pickle slice and laughed.

“Who cares?” Remus shouted as he threw another pickle, this one hitting above the first. Patton took a deep breath and pulled back his hand. He closed his hand and threw the pickle as hard as he could. He looked up in time to see it land just short of the clock. He blushed in embarrassment but to his surprise Remus hollered.

“Whooo!” Remus cheered. His whoops were brash and loud, like when the electric mixer hit the edge of the metal bowl. “That’s a great shot!” Patton smiled at the enthusiasm and grabbed another slice. Remus did too and they both threw them together. Remus hit the 4 while Patton’s was just shy of the clock again. Suddenly the lights of the building turned on around them. “On to the next place!” Remus threw the napkin with the rest of the slices and began bolting down the road, Patton stood shocked for a second then followed.

“Aren’t you the mayor?” Patton huffed as they ran. Remus was surprisingly fast and he had trouble keeping up.

“Yes, and?” Remus said, barely breaking a sweat. When they were far enough away Remus slowed down and started pointing out the shops they walked past. “That is the butcher, if you ask nicely they’ll give you bones that aren’t big enough to sell as dog bones. That’s Salamanders Silk, one of the 7 places I’ve gotten a cut that needs stitching which is ironic given it’s a clothes store.” Something told Patton this tour wouldn’t be overly informative of the actual places. “And this is the bakery that makes amazing muffins.” Remus stopped. Patton realised they were in front of his shop. He looked up at the bare walls of the building, it looked abandoned. Every shop in town had nice signs and lovely paint but his just looked sad. 

“How about I give you a tour?” Patton chimed in happily. Remus looked down and nodded excitedly. Patton walked up and unlocked the door. “Welcome to Froggy and Doggy Bakery.” Patton sang happily.

“Finally, I get a name.” Remus joked. Patton sighed and looked up at the empty space where a sign should hang.

“Yeah I need to get on to the sign company again.” He said sadly. Remus took a mental note of Patton’s qualms.

“How’d you get the name? Is doggy your favourite position or something?” Remus asked as he walked in. Patton locked the door behind them and flipped on the lights.

“Actually it’s based on a story my mother told me as a kid.” Patton started. Remus regretted his previous statement. “There was a princess who had two suitors, a prince and a farmer. She asked each to bring her an animal as a gift. The prince brought her a well bred dog with beautiful hair. The farmer brought her a small green frog. She took each pet and announced she would be marrying the farmer. The prince got mad and demanded her to answer why. She said that anyone can go out and buy a dog, but the farmer had spent time catching the frog and cleaning it to present to her. Even though his gift wasn’t the most pretty or conventional, it had the most effort and thought put in it.” Patton smiled as he told the story, Remus was entrapped by his words. He clearly had fond memories of that story and it was reflected in how happily he told it.

“I think that’s my new favourite fairy tale.” Remus said when Patton finished talking. “Is that why you have that tattoo as well?” Remus gestured to Patton’s wrist. He nodded.

“My ex was a tattoo artist and he did it as a birthday gift.” Patton said as he rubbed a thumb over the small frog drawn on his wrist. It took him a moment to realise he had just come out to a man he’d met only earlier today. He looked up expecting some sort of reaction from Remus, but he didn’t care. Remus was just looking around the bakery, closely inspecting a sign on one of the walls. Patton found it refreshing to have someone not have a big reaction.

“Art gallery? What’s this for?” Remus asked. The wall had no art on it, just a few small shelves. Patton walked over to join him.

“Oh my mother had the idea that artists could put up any art they had to sell here for a small fee. That way we could generate more business while helping people.” Patton informed. “That reminds me, is there a homeless shelter I could donate any unsold items to?” Remus was surprised. Patton had never been here and already wanted to help the people. It was admirable.

“Well there aren’t any homeless shelters here because there isn’t a need for them, but there is one in the city as you probably know. It’s an hour drive but they’d probably be very happy with a donation even once a week.” Remus explained. Patton looked back blankly.

“Why would I know that?” Patton asked.

“You lived there before you moved here, didn’t you?” Remus thought it was obvious. The only people who knew about this town were the people living in it and some of the people in surrounding areas.

“No. I lived on the coast.” Patton said. 

That’s in the very least 3 hours away. Remus thought.

“Why’d you move here then?” Remus asked plainly, not knowing that for Patton it was a loaded question. Patton crossed his arms and looked down. Remus noticed. “Oh- uh- you don’t have to answer.” He stammered quickly trying to comfort Patton. He was curious but didn’t want to make Patton uncomfortable.

“Thanks.” Patton whispered. It hurt to think back to the time before he moved. It hurt to remember how he pretended to be happy so much that he even fooled himself. He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts and smiled at Remus. “How about some dessert?” Patton chirped. He really bounced back quickly. Remus wasn’t sure if Patton was serious or flirting so he just nodded his head. Patton clapped and made a happy noise. He led Remus up the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door, the whole time Remus becoming more and more confused what this invitation entailed.Patton opened the door and allowed Remus to enter. He entered the small studio apartment with an impressive kitchen. Remus didn’t know how to play this. Did Patton think this was a date? Even so he was so sweet and kind that Remus didn’t pin him as the kind to give it up on the first date. Remus tentatively walked over and sat on the large bed. Patton looked across the room where Remus had taken a seat on his bed. It suddenly hit him how his offer may have sounded. Thoughts crashed against Patton’s mind. He quickly walked over and opened the fridge. Patton pulled out a few small caramel tartlets and brought them over to Remus. “Ta da!” Patton announced.

Oh of course. Remus thought. Of course Patton meant actual dessert. He’s a fucking baker.

Patton once again was alone but this time he was a lot happier. 

“They look great.” Remus said as he admired the lovely caramel tarts with chocolate shavings.

“Take them. As a thank you for tonight.” Patton pressed the plate into Remus’ arms. Remus took the plate and tried one of the tarts. The rich caramel melted in his mouth and blended perfectly with the buttery shortbread crust. “And tell Janus I said thanks too.”

“He’ll love these.” Remus mumbled, shoving another in his mouth. Patton giggled. Remus said his goodbyes and left.