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soultek · 1 year

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I Told You So: A Concept

Author’s Note: <to the tune of 7/22 by Taylor Edwards> It’s my birthday and I’ll post my Ronnie Peterson concept if I want to!

Hi, ADCU fans! Welcome to the first of a few concepts I’ve written for you! Ronnie is my favourite, so of course, he gets to go first!

My concepts are essentially single scenes from a much larger fic in my head, that introduce you to the relationship, and the love interest...

I hope you enjoy this one! 💙💜

Word Count: 3,567

Warning: None

Concept: Lovers to strangers to lovers.

Having moved back to the small town where she grew up, Araya does not expect to come face to face with ex Ronnie Peterson, now all grown up himself. Given the circumstances they broke up in, it’s understandable that he doesn’t want her around - but that’s the thing about a small town, it’s damn near unavoidable... In truth he still has feelings for her. But he’ll be damned if he walks down that road again, what if it ends worse than the first time?

Takes place pre-film by at least a few years.

Playlist: Available on Spotify!

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When I was gonna be your forever You were gonna be my wife But you went off to find better And I was learning all about life But I was what you wanted and you were what I needed And we could meet in between We were gonna be the greatest love story this town had ever seen

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Suppose I called you up tonight And told you that I loved you And suppose I said I wanna come back home And suppose I cried and said I think I finally learned my lesson And I'm tired of spending all my time alone If I told you that I realize you're all I ever wanted And it's killing me to be so far away Would you tell me that you love me too And would we cry together Or would you simply laugh at me and say...

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Let me guess, you miss me, you're sorry Too bad it's too little too late Don't make me say, don't make me say... I don't wanna be right this time But you made a fool of me And you're not gonna fool me twice It's almost like I... I told you so, I told you I let you know, if you let go Find someone else to hold you Just walk away, don't make me say The only words I owe you

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It had been more than a few months, and he still wasn’t used to her being back in town yet. Life had passed fairly aimlessly; everything had been so day to day before then. He hadn’t needed to worry about anything – save the occasional bit of really serious police work. But now Ronnie Peterson felt like he had to be on alert everywhere he went, on the very likely chance that he’d have to find a creative way to avoid her.

Seemed he still had a thing or two to learn about breaking up in a small town. Uh— being broken up with in a small town. He hadn’t had to worry about her since she went to college. Was almost definitely over her by now.

Except that wasn’t the case, was it?

And now he was just trying to get coffee before work and there she was, once again sitting in the diner. It made him hesitate, made him think twice. Maybe he could just wait and get to work. Maybe he could actually make it through this morning without a caffeine fix.

Except he was already out of his car and half way to the door – standing in the middle of the parking lot with his hands on his hips, staring at her through the window… and he could kick himself. Clearing his throat and closing his eyes, Ronnie focused back on the concreate, shaking his head. ‘Okay. Just… get in, order coffee, get out.’ Heading for the entrance he reasoned with himself; Where else could she go? The previous owners of the house had left it in need of repair and TLC – and the old flower shop attached, once belonging to her mother, hadn’t been open for years. There was a lot of work to do, and that meant a lot of workmen in and out. All the needed planning and preparation on her part had to be done somewhere - and even with the frequency of visitors the diner got, it would still be a damn sight quieter than home would have been for her.

Fern greeted him warmly, as ever. She didn’t even need to ask his order – Ronnie never changed it. Sometimes he thought about it, but setting that in motion hadn’t quite occurred yet. It certainly wasn’t going to be today, given how occupied his mind currently was on… other things. It was almost impossible not to glance over to her – pouring over notebooks and documents, head propped up on one hand, pencil absentmindedly tapping the page as she tried to make sense of it all. She hadn’t noticed him yet, if she knew he was here Ronnie knew she’d be doing the same thing he was. Glancing quickly became staring, until Fern’s next question interrupted him. “You taking some for the station?” “Uh…” He had to fight to drag his own eyeline back to Fern as he answered, slower than he’d like to admit. “I mean, I didn’t think about it, but I guess I could call them…” “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s pretty early, I mean they might not even be there, right?” “Y-Yeah… right…” Fern watched as, sensing he was no longer needed to answer her questions, Ronnie’s gaze wandered back to the woman sitting in the corner. Araya Monaghan had hardly aged a day since the times her and Ronnie had been high-school-smitten with each other – still looking like a sweet small town girl, despite her move to the big city more than just a few years back. She had returned to Centerville now, though. Fern almost rolled her eyes at him. She has observed Ronnie do this more than just once or twice over the past few weeks – how he would always immediately survey the diner to see if she was here, and then stare. Even if he was also fighting with himself; and Fern could tell Ronnie was most definitely fighting himself. It was about time she took things into her own hands.

“Didn’t you guys break up?” “Huh?” Concentration once again broken, Ronnie turned back, not entirely sure he’d heard that right. Or, maybe hoping he wouldn’t have to go through this yet again with someone in this town. “You broke up, right?” Oh yeah, he’d heard right. Unfortunately. “Oh. Yeah, that was…” Fern couldn’t help but smile knowingly as he went right back to staring at Araya, answer quiet, “a long while ago.” He was silently begging her to drop the conversation, but that wasn’t part of her plan, so Fern continued. “But you still like her.” Ronnie wasn’t sure that he liked the tone sounding more statement than question. He pretended to muse hard on it. Part of him still really hurt – part of him still twisted up seeing Araya back here after so long; like just after he’d got it together she had to move back just to wreck everything? She couldn’t get away with that. Not after breaking his heart. Not how she’d done it.

And yet… yes, he did look at her now and at least partially long for her back – if he was honest with himself (which, he didn’t want to be), Ronnie nearly always had. Therefore, when he responded with “Hmmm… well…” despite his trail off, he nodded; but it almost seemed absentminded, like he hadn’t quite admitted it yet. As his attention was still on her, this time Fern’s eyes flicked over too, “Well, she clearly still likes you a whole lot too.” They were almost as bad at each other for staring. The only reason it wasn’t happening right now was because she hadn’t looked up yet.

This, Ronnie knew. Despite Araya’s initial shock that he was still in town, she now looked at him in the way she used to. Which in all honestly twisted him up even more. He wasn’t about to admit this, and scoffed at the idea instead. “Well, she broke up with me.” Fern simply nodded, “Uh huh.” and then placed a cup in front of him. Not paper to take away, oh no, a proper cup and saucer. Then tipped her head in the direction they’d both been looking, “Now go on, stop staring and go talk to her.” Ronnie’s mouth opened, nearly in shock, pushing the cup back to the edge of the counter, “Fern, I’m taking out! I’m not staying!” She didn’t budge, instead lowering her voice to a semi-threatening whisper. “Don’t make me walk it over to her table!” She pointed daringly at him and Ronnie realised he wouldn’t be getting out of this in a hurry. This was not the morning he had planned. He swallowed hard, nodding in acceptance of his situation, before picking up the cup – shooting Fern a look just so she knew he wasn’t best pleased about this – and walked over to the back of the diner slowly.

At the corner table Araya was sitting at, this exchange had gone completely unnoticed. In fact, Ronnie could probably have snuck in and out no problem and been well into his shift, before she even looked up from the papers in front of her. Largely because she had done the same calculation about five times already and the answer was never the same, and never matched the breakdown sheet. She theorised that it would have to eventually - but now it was a case of when eventually was. What she didn’t fail to notice however, was someone heading cautiously in her direction, and once she’d caught the movement it caused enough of a distraction to make her look up. Though, his nearly 6’3” frame probably helped. Although, Araya couldn’t help but startle – because Ronnie Peterson was not who she would expect to be walking towards her if he was given any sort of choice in the matter. (Well… maybe once.) As he was about to confirm.

“Oh, hey!” “Hey.” It was blunter than she would have liked. He gestured to the cup in his hands, “Fern did this and I’m pretty sure would have refused me a takeout cup otherwise, so…” Araya pressed her lips together, nodding, trying to ignore her own disappointment and indicated to the seat in front of her, hoping it didn’t drip into her voice. “Care to join me?” She half expected him to say no, but Ronnie was always polite so she got a “Well, yeah…” As he slid into the booth, the cup chinked gently as he placed it down – finding space amongst the paperwork – and Araya was given a window of opportunity to study his face as he became interested in her notes. Dare she say he was even more handsome now than he was to her back then. “Watcha doing?”

When Ronnie glanced back at her, he equally ignored the way pink dusted her cheeks ever so slightly, the way she took a breath before she answered to steady herself. “Oh, uh… kinda budgeting… expenses… figuring it out as I go, but, not going so great.” Then he smiled in remembrance. That made things worse. And he knew it. “Math was never really your strongest suit.” She smiled back, chuckle soft, and nodded along, looking away from his eyes, “Yeah, you’re right.” “Want me to help?” He’d asked before he could stop himself.

Araya looked back at him, eager to accept, ready to beam and push her books and calculator across the table to him and start rattling off issues - exactly as she would have done in high school. But she stopped herself from looking too joyful, and instead cleared her throat before sliding everything to the side. “No, you know what, I can figure it out later. You’re sitting in front of me with a coffee, so the least I can do is… actually have a conversation with you. You’ll have plenty to do at work, you don’t need to also be doing mine.” Ronnie’s eyebrows raised with the shoulders of his shrug, “Oh well, if you… ever need any help.” “Oh, I know where to find you, Ronnie, trust me.” The pink became dark red, “I mean, not like- I- I know where the station is.” Although the smile he flashed was almost a smirk, “I’d hope you wouldn’t have forgotten where I live but, the station is a good start, yeah.” Her eyebrows furrowed, not willing to jump to conclusions, “…I, uh, know where your parents live.” Lived? Araya wasn’t sure if they still lived here, although that wouldn’t surprise her even if Ronnie’s presence did. “Yeah, I’m still on that side of town.” And Centerville was small enough for that to roughly mean the same place. Araya’s head tilted, it wasn’t a hard link to pick up, “Not my side of town.” “Well… no.” He said matter of fact. “Your parents still here?” She’d half expected him to have been long gone. Ronnie had never seemed much like a homebody, even when he hadn’t known what he wanted for his future. She’d figured he’d want to stay here even less after her. How wrong she could be. “Mhm.” “Oh.” Her grimace was easy to read – ‘what must they possibly think of me’ – he held his hand up to quickly rectify. “No, no, don’t worry – I never tried to get them to hate you.” This clearly didn’t help things, by the fact her face became pained – but it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware of what she deserved. Ronnie tried again, “Oh no, I-” but then he stopped, because, yeah actually he did hate Araya for what she did. At least back then. Maybe even still. And lying wasn’t the way to go, so it was probably best to just stop talking. He bit his lips together, “I’m sorry, that… was uncalled for.” “No, No I…” She crossed her arms on the table, rubbing her thumbs over the sleeves of her dress, “probably deserve that.” He gave another shrug, this one more apathetic, before taking a sip of coffee. Concluding it was cool enough to drink, Ronnie didn’t put the cup down. The faster he drank it, the faster he could leave… Araya watched him, not because she was waiting for him to say anything else – simply because she liked watching him. She could sit for hours in silence and do that. If he would let her – which, Ronnie certainly wouldn’t be doing any time soon. When he placed the cup down, however, it wasn’t empty. “You know, the coffee here really is the best. I don’t know how Fern does it. Truly something else.” Araya laughed at his musing, “Must be a secret ingredient.” He laughed too, “Must be something like that, huh?”

And that was the problem. It was so easy to be amicable. It was so easy to talk to her again. Like a needle slipping into a groove. Natural. Something they both wanted back, as if it was never gone. And it was like it was never gone. But it had gone – goodbye had been said more than once, and the last time they had seen each other (before, a few months ago, she turned up walking down the street in the middle of his patrol looking like a deer caught in headlights), they had both screamed things they wanted to take back.

Ronnie didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Friends wasn’t going to cut it. He couldn’t just ignore her, even with his best efforts. But he couldn’t let his feelings run away with this. What would happen if they did get back together? What if it all fell apart again? What if it was worse? He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t even consider the possibility.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking the exact same thing he was. That didn’t mean Araya wasn’t brave enough to tentatively ask it. In moments like this when they were actually getting on – where maybe she’d get the answer she wished for. Nervously tucking her hair behind her left ear before she did, and yet still able to hold the steady gaze of his brown eyes. “Do you ever think about it?” All the time. “About what?” He played a convincing perplexed. “Don’t you wonder if… - What - this could be?” Despite his previous dedication to the truth – Ronnie had no choice but to outright lie, straightening himself. “God, no… I couldn’t bring myself to read the plot points for this. I don’t think I wanna know…” Araya’s eyebrows furrowed again, if any disappointment had even entered her thought stream it had quickly been washed away with confusion. “Plot points?” Ronnie nodded, “Yeah… for the fic?” Araya’s look of puzzlement turned to one of surprise, “Oh. I didn’t know you could just read those and find out what happens.” “Yeah. If I wanted further heartbreak I guess I might!” To stop himself from talking too much Ronnie turned back to his coffee, this time making sure to finish it. But at the look still on Araya’s face, found himself compelled to continue, “I mean there must be some, you wouldn’t write a fic without them, right? I mean--” on second thought, knowing this author…

She sat silent for a moment with her own thoughts, digesting what he was saying. Although, even when she hadn’t fully, Araya gained confidence in her understanding enough to be able to look back into his eyes. What she was hearing was – he didn’t want to not try. It was what happened after that worrying him. And no wonder. “You wouldn’t want to know how it ends?” What if it was like a fairytale? What if they got a happy ever after? That didn’t have to be just fantasy and her wishful thinking. Ronnie blinked, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, before he shrugged again, this time being the one to look away, fingers dancing around the rim of his coffee cup, “Well I didn’t exactly like how it ended last time – if I read it and it doesn’t end well, why would I even want to start anything?” “What if it doesn’t end this time?” There was a warmth to her words as she went back to leaning her head on her hand. Araya was teasing him, of course. It wasn’t really a serious question – she knew neither of them could handle it being a serious question right now. They needed time, they had had time sure – but they needed more. His head tilted, eyes still not meeting hers – but the look on his face let her know she had a point. Ronnie couldn’t argue with that, but STILL! “I don’t think I wanna take the chance to find out. Could be worse. Don’t want that. No, thank you.”

By the time he’d finished his eyes were focused back on hers, with intensity. As if his would be the final word. Araya would have let him have it too, would have nodded along; ‘fair enough’. She even went back to looking at her work, pencil returning to her hand - but then she realised what he’d said. She paused her writing and looked up at him, curious, a little hopeful… but trying not to look too interested – perhaps not wanting Ronnie to realise exact what he’d said just yet. “Wait… so you… are thinking of… starting something?” It wasn’t a stupid question. Even if it would seem to be – either way he answered would have felt correct to both of them. It wasn’t as if there weren’t inklings of chemistry, that had somehow never faded, but she knew how hesitant he was considering how much she had hurt him before. Walking away from someone saying you couldn’t handle a relationship and then ending up in one again less than two months later would do that to a person. Ronnie had gone from wanting her back; would do everything and anything to have her back to… ‘well screw it and screw her and I never want to see her again and I’m actually quite MAD at her truthfully.’, and back again enough times in the years since. His distance when she first arrived didn’t surprise her, even when it was so easy to warm up like this after a five minute conversation. Araya was just as surprised at herself… she didn’t expect to fall back in love with him so easily, and so soon. The wish for her old relationship back had almost been immediate. As much as she understood the situation, at this point it felt so much like dancing around it; they both still had feelings neither would admit for their own personal reasons and the rest of the town was just… waiting. Of that they were almost certain.

Despite this, despite thinking he would want the final word back, Ronnie didn’t answer her. Instead, he just sat up a little straighter. His eyebrows furrowed together and he frowned a little, breathing out deeply – in a way that said everything, but there was no verbal answer… Araya knew better than to push him, and right now he had no coffee and she had no thread of conversation to keep him here either. Ronnie should be getting up and leaving and going to work now, because what else was there to do? He knew this, and so did she and yet he was still just… sitting there.

Either way, she had work to do, and dragging her notebook back towards her, Araya knew she had to think of something quickly before Ronnie figured out nothing was keeping him in his seat. She wanted to keep this conversation flowing – while he wasn’t scowling at her like he’d wish she’d leave, or straight up ignoring her presence. It had been so long since she’d got him like this, and she liked his company – whether Ronnie was talking or not, she always had. “A-Actually…” She held on to the only thing she had left, “If you wouldn’t mind just taking me though this one calculation that won’t add up? It’s different every time, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” He studied her face for just a fraction too long, and without the immediate response she feared that she might lose him this time. Ronnie checked his watch - what was five more minutes? - before he shook his head, “Sure. What’s up? Let’s see what I can do!” Then she smiled, the way she always used to smile at him and a smile he hadn’t seen since she’d left. Ronnie was 90% sure he wouldn’t hear a damn word she was about to say, and Araya would have to repeat herself, but it’d be worth it. What would be five more, five more minutes?

Fern watched from the counter as Ronnie leaned over the table to listen to Araya better, taking the pencil gently from her hand to explain exactly where she was going wrong. It didn’t seem like two minutes since they’d been high school age doing this…

She smiled to herself knowingly, looking at the empty coffee cup and then back at the in-depth discussion – the joy on Araya’s face when it finally made sense and the way Ronnie laughed to. And this time he didn’t check his watch.

It might take a little time, but they would get there. And if that meant she had to keep pouring his coffee into a proper cup instead, she’d make as many as it took.

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Thank you for reading! ✨

#Happy Birthday To Me #Ronnie Peterson #Officer Ronnie Peterson #The Dead Don't Die #Araya #This has about 10 theme songs already #GUYSSSS I had to put a 4th wall break in - I just couldn't /NOT/ do it.#I thought of 2 for this concept and this was one of them!#Officer Peterson #Linzi Writes

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mrs-gucci · 2 years

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Hi, do you still have any ADCU fics in the works? Do you know anyone who’s still writing in the fandom? Thank you :)

hi! for now, all of my ADCU writings/wips are on a hiatus. The inspiration and motivation just aren’t there anymore, and there hasn’t been much on the Adam front lately to get the inspiration going.

I’ll be focusing on my Stranger Things writing for the foreseeable future.

as for authors, I haven’t been on Tumblr consistently enough to know who’s still writing. I know my good friend @safarigirlsp is still active :) anyone is more than welcome to sound off in the comments if they know people.

happy reading!

#mrs gucci answers #adcu

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jynzandtonic · 3 years

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Hey boo, who are some Black/WOc writers in the AD fandom? I’m tired of the lack of nuance and understanding of racism by some of the writers in the fandom and feel isolated 😭

Hi, sweetness! I’m so, so sorry that you’ve been feeling isolated 💔 There are so many ways that whiteness is implied or “made invisible” in the way authors construct their fics... and while it might not be immediately noticeable to the authors, it is SO actively harmful and discriminatory toward the women and femmes of color in our community. It’s unacceptable—you should absolutely feel seen, embraced, and celebrated in the fics you read.

One of my dearest friends, Deja (@okk--maaan), has written oodles of juicy fic on AD characters (especially Charlie and Ronnie!), and a new sweet pal, Thia (@clydesducktape), has a ton of fabulously creative works (including Mandalorian!Clyde) with a focus on our favorite West Virginian country boy. I’m just familiarizing myself with the works of the incredibly talented Desiray (@desiraypark) and J (@aloneandsleepless)—in fact, J has an aaaaaaahmazing rec list of AD characters x Black!reader + Black!oc fics. I hope you find lots of tasty fics there! 💘

Additionally, I want you to know my inbox and DMs are ALWAYS open to constructive feedback and conversations about my work—and if there is anything within the community that I can be an advocate about, I’m here for you, sweet friend. xoxoxoxoxo

#adcu community #adcu #adam driver character x Black reader #adam driver character x Black!reader #adcu woc authors #ahhh moodboards have been one of the things on my mind recently #they tend to feature skinny white girl silhouettes etc and like #mmmmmmmm #let’s think about all the reader types that shits on

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elmidol · 3 years

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@thetorturerwrites has some of my favorite fics in the ADCU fandom. I am completely in love with her writing style. I recommend all of her fics, but kept this list to the ones I've personally read.

Her AO3 Profile can be found HERE

#The_Torturer_Writes #thetorturerwrites #kylo ren x reader #clyde logan x reader #charlie barber x reader #adcu #author recommendation #fanfic rec #fanfic recommendation

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peachyproserpina · 3 years

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me when I read @glassbxttless and @mrs-zimmerman fics

#i love them ur honor #adcu #adcu fanfiction #adcu authors #x reader fic #x reader #god i know such insanely talented people

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themuseic · 2 years

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The Lucky Ones

Clyde Logan x fem!Reader / / WC: 6,007 / / AO3 Mirror

Warnings: Fem!Reader, No Pronouns, PIV Sex, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting (If You Squint), Brief Slapstick Violence, Alcohol Mention.

Author’s Note: Written for @jynzandtonic for the 2021 ADCU Spring Fic Exchange!! I had so much fun participating and writing this. Please ignore the fact that this has been on AO3 for over half a year. I’m sorting out my posts and reorganizing. Enjoy and thank you for reading!!!

Zoooooom.

The racing fumes are as thick as the early summer air. The Coca-Cola 600 is one of the biggest races every year, regardless of the heat that beats down on the spectators.

You suck in air as you trudge through the tunnels under the track, coughing at the combination of heat, humidity, and chemicals. As if it relieves some of your pain, you curse whoever stocked your snack bar that day as you adjust the sack of hot dog buns slung over your shoulder like a sack of toys - you look like a right ole’ speedway Santa.

A quick glance at your watch kicks you into high gear as you realize you’ve already been gone from your post for twenty minutes, and you really can’t afford another talking to from the boss. The pace of your strides picks up as you break into a brisk walk, on a mission to haul your sack of buns to the snack stand and you round the corner sharply.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scene you stumble upon.

A large, black haired man in a jumpsuit launches his fist forward to land it square on the end of social media energy drink mogul Max Chilblain’s nose, sending him flying back into the concrete wall.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare at them. The dark haired man hisses as he shakes his hand - his only hand you notice - in an attempt to dull the pain of impact as Chilblain howls in the background. High and shrill, he screams, “ Someone come and bloody help me! I’ve been assaulted!” You bite back a laugh as he continues.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, you brute!” he screeches, clutching desperately at his crooked nose with both hands. Chilblain doesn’t waste a single moment as he scurries down the tunnel and away from the source of his embarrassment.

And then three men are left. The man in the jumpsuit, the white haired man, and Dayton White.

White’s face pales in an instant and his arms shoot into the sky in surrender. Eyes dart between each other quickly, swathed in a terse silence.

A sigh. “Aw, git,” the white haired man dismisses with a blasé wave of his hand, and the racecar driver takes off faster than you ever had seen him react to the wave of a green flag.

When the broad backed and snow haired men spot you, they move faster than light itself. The smaller of the two, the one with an incredibly large tattoo of West Virginia on his neck, races to where you stand frozen and pushes your body back into the wall, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the scream he guesses is inevitable. You grunt at the impact against the concrete.

“Now listen here,” he whispers into your ear. “You didn’t see none of this happen, right?” He nods, his mouth open in a prompting grin as he urges you to nod along with him using his hand. You protest against him, your exasperation muffled into his palm.

“Joe, leave ‘em alone!” The other man pulls at the aforementioned Joe’s shoulder, but you beat him to the punch. Quite literally.

You jerk your knee up to land squarely between Joe’s legs, sending him stumbling back towards the opposite wall, clutching his nether regions as he groans. “Jesus!” he exclaims as he stumbles over his feet. “Y’aint have t’ do that!”

You smooth your pants down as you collect yourself, unbothered by Joe’s pained moans. “You didn’t have to do that either,” you shoot back, glaring daggers at the doubled over man.

“Y’alright there darlin’?” The deep rumble of his baritone voice draws your attention back to the dark haired man. You turn and get your first real look at him. It steals your breath.

He’s huge, broadbacked and strong. He fills out his grey jumpsuit perfectly, even if the left arm of his jumpsuit dangles loosely in the breeze of the tunnels, and you can't help but desire to run your fingers through his long, black hair. His lip pouts as he looks at you, scanning your face for signs that Joe hurt you. He has a sincerity in your eyes that is something special, and you can’t help but smile back at him. He’s beautiful if you’re being honest, and his concern twists your stomach in a way you can’t quite place. “Alright, as long as you can keep your friend in check,” you tease, shooting a glare over at Joe while he rights himself.

“Listen sweetheart,” Joe croons through his pain, wearing a smile you sure he’d rather wipe off of his face. “Now I’m serious, if you keep quiet about all this, y’ might benefit in the future.”

You swear your eyes should have gotten stuck given how hard you roll them. “That’s no problem,” you scoff. “But you’re still going to get caught.”

“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure about that?”

“There’s security posted at every exit.” You nod towards their getup. “And you definitely don’t look like you’re supposed to be down here.”

“Shit!” Joe laments. “I’m gonna kill Sam and Fish. How in the hell did they get bad info?”

You cock your eyebrow and make eye contact with Joe’s accomplice. His expression says it all. “Of course Sam and Fish got bad info.” Then, he speaks aloud. “Well, what are we supposed t’’ do then?”

You look between the men, chew on your cheek, and make a split second decision. “I have an idea. Come here.”

///

It only takes a few minutes before you’re pushing a large, green canvas cart down the hallway, your sack of hot dog buns perched on top of two men, folded uncomfortably around each other. You can hear small sounds of discontent emanating from the lump as they try to get situated. “Hey!” you hiss, nudging the side of the cart with your foot. “Shut your traps if you want to get out of here without being caught.”

You swear you hear someone grumble about “first a garbage chute, now this,” and you choose to ignore it.

The tunnels are essentially empty, and you fly through the concrete corridors. It’s not too long before you see daylight streaming through one of the exits, and you stride confidently towards it.

A voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey! Stop!” A burly security guard holds up his hand as he jogs over to you, one hand on his pants to keep them from falling as he does. You freeze and halt the cart, pulling in a deep breath before you turn to him. His name tag reads “Andy” in block letters, and you smile. “What’s the problem Officer Andy? What can I do for you?”

He stops next to your cart and peers in. “Why do you have so many hot dog buns?” He pokes at a roll with his finger, watching the bread spring back.

You force a laugh. “Coca-Cola 600! We’ve got lots of mouths to feed today, and they keep ordering hot dogs!” The flutter of your heart starts to pick up as the guard’s eyes narrow.

“I dunno, that's one hell of a lot of hot dogs.”

You have to take a breath as you start to get annoyed. “Listen, my boss is going to have my ass already. I bet that we have a whole load of people up there waiting on their hot dogs.” You splay your hands and arms towards the cart of buns. “And those hot dogs need their buns!” At this point, you’re trying to talk him into boredom with the details. “And every hot dog sold is another dollar goin’ towards the great sport of NASCAR. You don’t want to stop that do you?”

The security guard holds up his hands as though you have accused him of a crime. “Absolutely not! Carry on,” he allows and he waves you through.

You leave him with a parting smile.

///

“Alright, we’re here,” you announce as you pull up to the employee entrance to the speedway. When you pull the bag of hot dogs off of the hidden cargo, you can’t help but laugh at their red flushed, sweaty faces, warmed by the insulation of plastic and processed bread.

“You’re quick on your feet, huh?” Joe asks after they get out with only slight bickering.

“Guess so,” you shrug as you push the canvas cart into the corner of the space.

The trio of you stare at each other for a few seconds before Joe slaps the chest of his friend and beckons him, “C’mon, let’s get goin’.” He breaks into a brisk jog while he calls back to you over his shoulder, “Thanks!”

You turn to leave them but a sweaty, calloused hand wraps around your wrist. Wide amber eyes greet you as you turn back to see who stopped you, and your stomach twists again. “Thank you,” he mutters without breaking eye contact even to blink. You cover his huge hand with your palm and grin with a small nod. “Now, go, ” you insist, and you swear you catch a small smile grace his face as he turns to jog after Joe, who was already climbing into a bright, electric blue car.

You watch them peel out of the parking lot, headed toward who knows what, and you are left with a racing heartbeat, a bag of half smashed hot dog buns, and an odd feeling in your stomach.

///

“Authorities have confirmed they have recovered the money stolen from the Charlotte Motor Speedway in what some are calling the "Hillbilly Heist."”

The newscast crackles on your worn TV setup, the sound filling your apartment as you tidy up one evening. You chuckle lightly to yourself and shake your head. Since the Coca-Cola 600, not a single day has passed that you hadn’t thought of your chance encounter in the tunnels.

It hadn’t taken you too much thought to put two and two together and figure out that those men you had seen were likely the ones behind the speedway robbery. But, you stuck to your decision that you would forget anything you saw and you stayed quiet as news sources asked for any and all tips regarding the situation.

You whistle low as you consider their luck. Luck that they got into the speedway in the first place, and luck that they ran into you. Luck that they got away with it. Most folks don't see even a whisper of that luck in their whole lifetime, and you laugh. “Must be a family of lucky ones.”

But you couldn’t help but remind yourself that really, you were the lucky one that day. That was the day you got to lay eyes on just about the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and now you can’t seem to get him out of your head.

Now, you find yourself daydreaming at work about his strong, corded arms and his piercing eyes. On your drive home, you recall just how big he looked underneath the grey jumpsuit he donned, and how his perfect black hair cascaded from under his John Deere hat. And at night, when your hand slips below the elastic band of your underwear and you stroke your clit with tight, quick circles, you think of his deep voice, and how perfect it would sound growling into your ear.

After each thought of him, you sigh, and wish for a little bit of that luck. Luck that one day, you’ll even get to just lock eyes with him again.

///

A week trip to the mountains with your friends is just what you need. Work had been nothing short of a nightmare for months now, even after you were granted a promotion from the snack bar to a popcorn hawker. Sure, your skin no longer smelled constantly of cooking oil, but you already had to hold back more than once when some leering greaseball had decided to call for your attention using less than favorable nicknames. Last week, after a particularly unpleasant interaction, you decided you had endured enough, dropped your apron, and marched out of the speedway in a huff.

Yes. A week in the mountains is exactly what you need.

The modest “Welcome to West Virginia” sign zips past you on the side of the highway, barely visible as you race down the road, the car piled high with friends ready for the vacation.

“I’m so excited!” Sarah squeals from the driver’s seat. “We’re going to have just the best time. My parents passed me a ton of recommendations for the area, I haven’t been up since I was a kid.” You look at her and beam while the rest of the car hoots and hollers their agreement.

///

Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong.

The clock strikes five the minute you settle in at the cabin, almost like it was programmed to do so. You’ve just finished unpacking your things in the wooden dresser when Sarah sticks her head into the room, announcing happy hour.

“Everyone!!” she crows as she drops to the floor beside you. “I know about the best bar in town! Supposed to have good music too. Who’s in?”

The house erupts into a chorus of yes’s and Sarah flicks her eyes to you, awaiting your agreement. It only takes a second of thought before you fall back against the foot of your bed. “I could go for a little relaxing.”

Sarah throws her arms in the air in triumph as she springs from her seat and flies out of the room.

“We’re leaving in 10!”

///

The building she brings you all to is humble, but in the same way that a childhood home is. It is no more than it needs to be, but it is not anything less. You could call it the Goldilocks of mountain town bars. Just right, and as luck would have it, just what you need it. Even the name brought a smile to your lips.

The Duck Tape.

You push through the doors, ready to be greeted with small town vibes, a rumbling happy hour, and country music drifting through the jukebox.

Instead, you freeze.

It’s him.

///

He saw you, there’s no doubt about that, and he keeps trying to avoid your gaze as he scans the patrons in the bar, no different from you. You try to stay occupied, and you try your absolute best to avoid eye contact. It quickly appears that even your best is far from good enough.

You can’t help but stare at him. He is exactly as you remember, as you see in your mind, with his muscled arms and thick black hair. But seeing him here, like this, brings a whole new depth of gorgeous air about him. You notice just how his eyes glint, how his teeth catch on the light. He looks at home behind the bar, and when you hear him chuckle for the first time, it shoots straight in between your thighs.

You sigh to yourself as you resolve to do something other than pine over this perfect man from afar, and you make your excuses to the group. “Sorry y’all, I have to get something. I’ll be back with a round, alright?” Your friends agree to the plan with enthusiasm, and you mosey right up to the bar.

///

You slide up to the bartop with your drink, and suck down a quick swig for courage. It doesn’t take him long to notice a new body sitting on the barstools, but when he looks up to see it’s you, his face pales and he drops his voice to a whisper.

“Now listen, I’m not looking for any trouble-,” he starts, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Neither am I. Just looking for another drink, if that’s alright with you?” You tilt your head down towards the glass in your hand. His brow furrows, and you have an urge to smooth the wrinkled skin of his forehead with your thumb. “You sure that’s all you’re here for?” he huffs. “Nothin’ else?”

You hold up your hands in earnest. “Scout’s honor.”

He seems to ponder that for a minute, his lower lip jutting out into a small pout, before he turns. You call out before he has the chance, just loud enough to catch his attention.

“I see that those riches were put to good use,” you offer, wagging your eyebrows towards his fancy metal arm. The bartender pales immediately and he leans in, dropping his voice to a rasping whisper. “You figured that out?”

You snicker against the ice cubes clinking at the front of your glass as you pour the remaining liquid down your throat, and you swear you see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face.

“C’mon. Two men down in the tunnels, in a brawl with Max Chil-Pain-In-the-Ass? Same day the speedway gets robbed?” You shrug. “I’m not stupid you know.”

His jaw sets and his brow pinches together as he huffs at your sass. “Now, I didn’t say that.” He snatches your glass from in front of you, sets it in a bin of dirty dishes, and walks away to refresh your drink.

“So, what’s your name big man?” you lilt, watching as his head rolls over to look at you.

“Y’ain’t going to turn around and turn me in?” He cocks an eyebrow as he slides a beer down the bar to a thirsty patron before walking over to you with a deliberate pace and a fresh drink.

You scoff. “What’d be the fun in that?”

“Clyde.” You smile and offer your own in return. “Well thank you very much for the drink, Cl-” and he cuts you off.

“Why’d you help us?” His deep voice reverberates through your chest and you flick your eyes to meet his.

Your tongue rolls across your teeth as you lean back and consider him. Your shoulders raise in a nonchalant shrug while you run the tip of your finger around the lip of the glass before you. “Call it the kindness of a stranger.”

Clyde scoffs at that. It isn’t malicious, but you can tell he didn’t believe you.

“Couldn’ta been that.” He leans back against the bar while he mulls you over as you stand before him.

You scrunch your nose at his statement. “Oh? And why’s that?”

He chews on his lip for a second, staring you down with his strong, piercing gaze, before he resigns and shrugs. “Call it a gut feeling.”

The air is quiet between you, save for the bustle of the customers in the background.

“Well then,” he ponders, “We didn’t belong down there, why didn’t y’ report us after?” Clyde looks puzzled as he sounds. “You’re a speedway employee ain’t ya?”

You scoff and take a hefty swig of your newly refreshed drink Clyde had set in front of you. “Was. Got real tired of being talked badly at.” You roll your eyes, but the way Clyde bristles at your statement doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He recovers quickly and presses on.

“Well what about when they were callin’ for information? That reward should have sent anyone runnin’ for it.”

He was right of course, but you would be lying to him and yourself if you said you didn’t want him to come out on top.

“Guess I was rooting for y’all to be one of the lucky ones,” you admit. Clyde narrows his eyes, but accepts the answer. His pout deepens as he nods and turns to start wiping the bar down.

You don’t let even a full five seconds pass before you can’t ignore the ache between your thighs any longer. You clear your throat, swallow your nerves, and lean forward to whisper in his ear.

“Couldn’t have you going to jail anyway. It’s hard to try and fuck someone who’s in prison.”

If Clyde had picked up a glass, he surely would have shattered it in his hand when you say that. His entire body tenses. You aren’t even sure he breathes, his broad chest is so still you can only assume he is holding his breath. Your stomach twists. You miscalculated, you went too far. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with embarrassment as he starts to turn to you.

Your nose is only a few inches from his sharp, angular one. You can count every one of his sweet moles from this vantage point, and you start to, if only to get your mind off of your massive faux pas. Clyde is nearly cross eyed as he stares down the bridge of his nose at you.

Finally, he speaks.

“I knew it,” he says, his voice wispy and needy. Clyde’s amber eyes light up more with each word. “Joe said I was crazy, but I knew it.” His mouth parts slightly, and only your nerves stop you from pressing your lips to his plush ones.

“Yeah?” you prompt him, breathlessly. Clyde is staring at your lips now, his eyes hooded and sultry.

“My office. In the back. I’ll be there in five.”

You move faster than lightning strikes as you leap from the barstool and race towards the back, shedding your jacket as you go.

Each step is another wet squelch between your legs, and you pray to every heavenly being that only you can hear it.

It doesn’t take long to find the heavy door that separates Clyde’s office from the bar, and you push through it. You’re breathing heavy already, and Clyde hasn’t even touched you once. You toss your jacket onto a chair and perch yourself on the edge of his desk, your hands splayed behind you as you lean back, ready and waiting for him.

Clyde is faster than he promises, and he bursts through the door before you’ve barely had time to situate yourself. He’s across the room and pressed to your front in three strides, and you find yourself captured in a deep kiss.

It’s like fireworks, when your lips collide. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s alive, and you are rendered thoughtless as his lips move against yours. He tastes just exquisite, and you whine into his mouth.

Clyde breaks your connection to give you both a minute to breathe, and he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, desperate to drink you in. “Jesus Christ you looked so good in that cute little uniform you were wearin’,” he groans low and deep in your ear.

The praise shoots straight to the crux of your thighs, instantly drenching your underwear as you clench your walls tight. “Fuck,” you moan as he mouths at your pulse, his hand digging into your side as he anchors you close to him. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were.” He laughs. “Sounds like we were on the same page.”

Clyde kisses up your neck to your mouth again, and you keen as his tongue demands entrance, swirling and tensing as he licks into your mouth. Suddenly, he spanks the outside of your thigh with a light, open hand. “Up. C’mon.”

The minute you hop off of the desk lip, Clyde spins you to face out into his office and presses himself to your back, trapping your hips between the desk and his chest.

Clyde rolls his hips against yours and you gasp when you feel the unmistakable pressure of his hard cock filling out against the curve of your ass. He grunts as he pushes into you and mouths at your earlobe.

“This what you wanted? That first time?” His hand snakes up the front of your body under your shirt. Two thick fingers pinch your nipple sharply, and you yelp, only for the sound to turn into a moan as he kneads your flesh in soothing circles. “Y’ wanted me to fuck y’ in that tunnel, didn’t y’?” Clyde’s snarl is laced with a deep arousal, his words betraying him of that.

“Fuck, yes Clyde.”

“Y’ still want me to?”

You moan. “Yes Clyde.”

A swift spank to your ass pulls a yelp from your chest. “Alright,” Cyde growls as he huffs hot, open mouth breaths across your neck. “Get these off.”

Your hands fly to your bottoms and you shimmy them down past your hips. The minute they dip past your knees, Clyde’s hand shoots out to help and shuck them off of your legs, and you lean over his work desk for leverage.

The wooden furniture is sharp against your waist as you fold over it. There is a chill on your lower back that crawls up your spine as Clyde plants his metal hand there, the fingers splayed out as if to keep you still. Condensation clings to the desktop where you heave breaths into the stained wood in anticipation.

A sudden stream of air blows across the dripping folds of your pussy and you clench your walls as you pant.

A low chuckle rumbles form Clyde’s chest. “Fuuucking gorgeous,” he croons.

He gives you no warning and you gasp as his deft tongue splits you in two. Clyde moans against your skin at the taste, drinking you in with a greed you can't believe. He pulls back from your cunt with a wet sound and croons to you, “Fucking delicious too.” His eyes never leave your heat once.

You whine at his praise, your hips wiggling minutely. It is a silent plea to just hurry up and fuck you already, and you hope he gets the message. Clyde clicks his teeth and he hums, his fingertips skimming up the inside of your leg. When they connect with your clit, with that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, you gasp, breathless beneath his touch.

“Now darlin’, I’ll take care of you just fine,” he murmurs against the flesh of your thigh. “Jus’ be patient for me now.” Clyde places a sloppy kiss to your very core and you clench at the feeling of his plump lips against you. With a low hum, he muses, almost to himself, “You’ll cum on my cock, don’t you worry. But first,” he drags his nose through your folds and collects your sweet juice on his flattened tongue.

“First you’ll cum in my mouth.”

Clyde dives into your cunt with a sort of rabid eagerness, one that can only be sated by the arousal dripping from you like honey. He groans as he nuzzles deep into your wet heat, and your toes curl at the vibrations.

Your mouth falls open into a silent gasp, the only noises in the room the sound of Clyde’s mouth moving against you.

He devours you like a starving man. He chases your arousal, licking every inch of your pussy just to feel you quiver against his tongue. His fingertips brush over the tip of your clit, enough to drive you towards that edge and hold you there.

Clyde’s tongue dips into your warm entrance and you groan, pushing your hips back into his face. He hums in content and the vibrations rumble through you like a freight train.

It’s becoming harder and harder to hold yourself up, even braced against Clyde’s pristine wood desk. You feel your legs start to tremble, and Clyde notices. His suckling picks up speed and he circles your clit tightly with his fingers. His metal hand props up your hip, and just in time.

You cry out as your orgasm crests and crashes over you, flooding you with warmth. Like their strength had been stolen, your knees collapse and you feel Clyde’s metal fingers as they bite into your side to hold you up.

He works you through your orgasm carefully, pulling every drop out of you that he can, before he releases you. Clyde kisses up your body, over the curve of your ass, over the planes of your back, and down your shoulder as you pant and come down from your euphoric high.

He cranes his neck around to kiss you quickly, and you taste yourself on his lips. “See how sweet you are darlin’?” he coos to you. Your mouth hangs open as you pant and you nod in agreement. Anything to please him. Clyde kisses you again and presses his forehead against yours. “You got one more in you for me?”

You nod desperately.

The clink of a belt buckle follows immediately, and you hear Clyde grunt as he adjusts himself. He drags his hand down your back and sighs. “God, you’re so fucking stunning, you know that?”

Your breath catches, and you whisper, “You’re not too bad yourself.” He laughs lightly. “Well thank you darlin’.”

Before you have a chance to think, he slides the spongy head of his cock through your slick folds, using your cum and his spit as lubrication. You feel the warmth of his chest drape across your back as he folds over you and sucks your earlobe into his mouth. Clyde is already breathless when he asks, “You ready for me?”

Your head lolls sideways in exasperation. You start to whine “Jesus, just fuck me already-,” and you never finish your sentence.

Your breath is stolen from your body as Clyde sheaths his thick girth deep in you in one thrust. All of your frustration with his teasing melts away into a moan so obscene, you can hardly believe it came from you.

Clyde huffs a laugh in your ear as your walls flutter around him. “What was that darlin’?” You can’t respond.

You didn’t see him but oh god can you feel him. He is thick, long, and his rock hard cock splits you open in the most mind numbing, delicious way. And Clyde knows just how big he is. So he stills, giving you time to adjust to his size.

You stay like that, connected, until Clyde can’t take it anymore. He’s huffing hard breaths into the nape of your neck, and you think you can feel his arms start to tremble. With a constricted voice, he asks, “Darlin’, you ready? I can’t hold on like this.” You nod fast and your head falls forward to your chest.

Slowly, Clyde drags his length back out, and you whine at the loss, only to be swiftly speared again. His cock nudges at that spot inside of you that leaves you speechless, and you can only moan at the feeling. “God you make pretty noises, huh?” Clyde groans as he thrusts into you, drunk on the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around his girth. “That just for me?” You are perfectly wet, and he slips through your folds easily. You reward him with a keen and a stuttered “y-yes,” as he thrusts shallowly in your pussy.

You can't help but clench on him for the thousandth time overwhelmed by the pleasure he wrings form your body. This is only the second time he has ever touched you, and yet he can play you like a well strung instrument.

Clyde moans as he feels you tighten up around him. “You keep doin’ that and I’m not going to be able to hold back any more,” he warns as he punches into your rhythmically. His flushed forehead is pressed to your back, and even through your top, you can feel his hot and heavy breath on your skin. With an incredulous look plastered across your face, you twist to try and look at him.

Clyde tilts his face up to meet your gaze, and you find yourself enamoured with his glassy, blissful expression.

“Don’t hold back then.”

Satisfaction rolls across his face in waves, and you catch a small but devious glint light up his eyes.

“Grab the desk darlin’.”

You do, and Clyde lets go.

He sets a near breakneck pace, thrusting into you fast, deep, desperate. You cry out as the head of his cock knocks against your cervix in the most delicious way, and you can feel your toes curl as he pounds into you.

He snaps his hips into yours, skin on skin meeting with sharp smacks, and you can swear that you are drooling. Clyde fills your every sense. You hear his huffing breath, smell the delectable scent of sex whirling around the pair of you, and most of all you can feel him. You feel his rough hand anchoring your hips in place as he rocks into you with quick thrusts, and you arch your back to give him access to every part of you.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You aren’t sure who spoke.

it’s not long before you feel the familiar coil of pleasure start to wind up in your stomach as Clyde hurls you towards the desk and another orgasm. It feels hot, sloppy even, as it builds in you, and you push your hips back into his, desperate to find that release.

“Ngh, Clyde,” you pant against the stained wood. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum.”

“I can feel you darlin’, feel you squeezin’ me so tight,” Clyde grunts. “I’m right there too sweetheart. Cum, cum right now for me.”

So eager to please him, you shove your hand in between your body and the wood panels of the desk to swipe at your clit.

Two passes, and you're unraveling.

You cry out as you cum again, euphoria flooding your body, and your release gushes over the base of his cock. The walls of your pussy thrum with aftershocks as your orgasm starts to fade, and it tips Clyde over the edge right after you.

He cums with a roar and suddenly you feel so full, fuller then even when he first pushed into you. If that’s even possible.

Clyde paints the walls of your cunt white with his spend, and with each thrust, you can feel the warm liquid start to drip down your thighs. It feels perfect. You never want to lose the feeling.

Slowly, his hips slow, having left you both fully and thoroughly fucked. The room is hot and sticky and silent, save for your shared breaths. Clyde stays draped over you as you breathe together, neither one of you wanting to make the first move to break apart.

After what seems like an eternity, Clyde stands, pulling you up with him. He cradles you close to his chest while he turns you in his arms. Even with that closeness, it’s hard to suppress the whine that bubbles from your throat when his length slips from the heat of your pussy, but he hushes you with a sweet and passionate kiss.

When you break, you notice something in his eyes. An emotion that you can’t quite place, but it looks incredibly close to longing.

His paw of a hand reaches up to cup your face tenderly, and you lean into his skin, turning your hand to kiss his palm lightly. He chuckles to himself.

You wrap your hand around his wrist. “What are you thinkin’ about, Clyde?”

He shakes his head with a smile. “I’d reckon I’m pretty glad we almost got caught under the speedway.”

“Oh?”

“Wouldn’ta never met you otherwise.”

Your stomach soars at his admission, and you beam. “Luck, isn’t it?”

Clyde whistles through his teeth as his hand strokes up and down your back absentmindedly. “Depends. Do I get t’ see you again?”

The words have barely left his mouth before you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. You pull back, but keep your forehead pressed to his. “I’d like that very much Clyde.” He beams right back at you.

You stay like that for a few minutes longer, exchanging small kisses and laughs, before Clyde reaches down and pats your ass lightly. “C’mon. Think we’ve been gone long enough. Your friends are gonna be missin’ you.”

You can’t help but wink at him, while you pull him in close. You whisper against his lips, “I’ll try my luck with a few extra minutes.” And that you do.

#clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x fem!reader #clyde logan #logan lucky #my writing

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rynwritesstuff · 9 months

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No Way to Say ‘Goodbye’

Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: Literally just so much unspoken love. Like, an insane amount of it.

Word Count: 830

Summary: You wake up with Kylo Ren.

Author’s Note: This is just a reminder that my requests ARE open for pretty much any of Adam’s characters! If you have any ideas, thoughts, or requests, feel free to send them my way :) Also, I am thinking of making a new taglist for my writing, so if you’d like to be tagged in my writing, let me know, and I’ll be sure to make that happen! - Ryn

“I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm. Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new. In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you, but now it's come to distances and both of us must try. Your eyes are soft with sorrow, and hey, that's no way to say goodbye . . .” - Hey That’s No Way to Say Goodbye, Feist

It is early when Kylo Ren wakes and looks over to his left. You are sleeping beside him, your chest rising and falling steadily as you dream. He finds himself wondering what it is you’re dreaming about. If it’s good. If it’s calm. If it’s him.

He’s leaving today. That much is certain. He has to find the scavenger, turn her, bring her to the Dark Side. He’s not sure how long he’ll be gone for. Kylo reaches down and caresses your cheek, an action that he normally wouldn’t be caught doing during the day. If the two of you were on a planet, though, the sun wouldn’t even be up, so Kylo lets himself touch your cheek. Your hair is splayed out on his pillow, and you stir as he pulls his hand away.

This could be the end of everything, Kylo realizes as emotion rises behind his eyes. He doesn’t cry. He never cries, but he might right now. You just look so beautiful and soft and . . . Good.

You are good. A good lover, a good conversationalist, a good person. He’s the complete opposite, always so tied up with responsibilities and tasks that mean little to him. He doesn’t have time to be good.

Your eyes open slowly, and Kylo’s face is the first thing that you see. You smile instantly. Kylo isn’t sure why.

“Hey,” you say, reaching for his hand. “What time is it?”

“Five,” Kylo says. You hum, bringing his hand to your lips so that you can kiss his fingers. He swallows harshly. “When do you have to go?”

“Soon.”

You nod, looking away from his face so that you can focus on his hand. His hands are so lovely: Big and rough and strong. You bring it up to your cheek, silently asking him to touch the skin there.

He does.

“You should go,” Kylo breathes, voice barely above a whisper. He knows that his voice is on the verge of shaking. You nod, offering him a small smile.

“I know, love,” you say. Kylo rubs your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Will you call me while you’re away?”

“If you would like that,” he says. “Of course I would.”

You sit up, stretching and looking away. You knew this was coming, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. You thought he’d at least get you something to eat, something to drink, something to hold onto.

You go to stand and get re-dressed – you’re still naked from the night before – and Kylo catches your wrist. You look back at him.

“I . . . “ he starts.

There is so much he needs to tell you, like how he notices the way you stare at him during meetings, and how much you make him feel, and how deeply you have derailed his existence just by being yourself and having him in this way.

He closes his mouth.

You sigh, then pull away and grab your clothes. You get dressed slowly, and you feel his eyes on you the entire time. You grab Kylo’s undershirt, the one he was wearing last night, and slip it on over your uniform. “May I keep this?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

You nod, then pull the sleeves down over your wrists. “I’ll, um . . . I’ll go, then,” you say after you pull your boots on. Kylo stands quickly, still wearing only a pair of underwear, and steps in front of you. He looks at you desperately, wishing more than anything that you could simply read his mind so that he wouldn’t have to say it out loud–

“Please be safe while I’m gone,” Kylo says. You put your hands on his warm chest as he speaks. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

You smile softly, gently, and reach up to touch the scar on his cheek.

“Nothing will happen to me, love,” you say. “Don’t worry. Just bring the scavenger back with you, alright?”

Kylo nods.

“I will.”

You lean up and kiss him, then. It is deep. Passionate. Loving. It conveys all that the two of you are too afraid to say: I love you. I need you. Take care of yourself.

You pull away, tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, and offer him a smile.

“I’ll see you, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo nods, pulling his hands off of your hips as you take your hand off his cheek.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “Soon.”

#rynwritesstuff #kylo ren #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x yn #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #star wars #star wars characters #star wars character #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fic #adcu fanfiction #adcu author #adam driver #adam driver fic

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babbushka · 1 year

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#my first poll #!#fanfic #fanfic things #adcu #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #fanfic author #i'm curious how i should split this up lol #or if i even should #let me know!#star wars fanfic #kylo ren fanfic

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

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The Late Shift - Part 3

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), PRAISE KINK, sex in a public place (voyeurism if you squint?), Oral sex (Female receiving), PIV sex, gratuitous use of the pet name ‘good girl’

Authors Note: Yeah, we sped right on into smut town in this one. This smutty addition should conclude our little story, and now this ADCU character will forever be known to me as Praise Kink Paul.

Part 1 + Part 2

It was eerily quiet as you stared at Paul in bewildered shock, not fully knowing if the word he just spoke actually left his mouth. It didn’t seem real. A man you’d met barely hours ago returning for you. Needing you. But what exactly did that mean?

Paul’s expression had kept its hesitation long into the silence, his body unmoving. He had never been so bold before. Making a move like this, so soon after a first meeting, was absolutely unheard of in his past. And yet here he was now, watching over your face, trying to gauge the thoughts hidden behind your eyes. There was an essence of shock clearly shining in your irises, and Paul could only come to the conclusion he’d scared the hell out of you.

“I- I, uh, I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his bid at cooling your fear. “What do you mean by… needing me?”

Paul nervously pulled at his blazer collar, realising now how vague and outright creepy the statement must have sounded. Somehow he needed to explain himself without coming off more strange than he already did. “Oh, I just… I wanted to see if you were free for a late dinner. There’s are great dumpling house around the corner and-”

Your lids had narrowed as Paul continued to stumble his way through his words, stopping him again mid-sentence. “You said… you needed me.”

Fuck. He’d definitely freaked you out. He could tell you it was a lie, a colourful way of offering a date, but suddenly the prospect seemed rather difficult. Because in truth, he’d meant exactly what he’d said. He needed you, in a way he hadn’t needed someone for a long time. He needed to know what your lips tasted like, the softness of your skin, the sound of your quickened breaths-

“Ask me again,” you shot out, your demeanour having morphed into one of resolve. Paul could feel his heart rate pick up.

“What?”

“Ask me out. To dinner. Ask me on a date.”

The rhythm of beats turned erratic - a smile already desperate to spread across his face. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his chances. With a steadying breath, Paul kept his tone light, hoping to hide the excitement rattling inside his chest. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

“No.”

The word pierced the air with such a stinging jolt it made Paul want to recoil. “Uh… oh, but I thought… Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You took a step from around the service counter, a single finger sliding over the cheap marble, keeping your eyes locked with Paul as you moved. The only answer you supplied was a shake of your head, treading closer to the flustered man, his face creased into a positively adorable look of uncertainty.

It was your time to be bold now. You weren’t sure how it happened, when the rush of confidence flashed through your limbs, pushing you into a determination you’d not been allowed to embrace very often. Maybe it was because you’d already endured a horrifying dose of embarrassment today. Maybe it was because you found this stranger so attractive it physically burned your insides. Maybe it was because you had been fantasising about the things he might do to you for the last several hours and your logical brain was currently suffocated by lust. No matter the reason, you treaded towards Paul with a measured composure, until finally you were standing at his front, a thickened air of tension sifting around the two of you, the dimmed lights softly bouncing off the frames of his glasses. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, evidently nervous at the proximity. But he wasn’t retreating, he wasn’t edging himself away. When his stare flickered down to your lips, pupils swelling at the sight, you knew this was your opening.

“I don’t want a date. I want what I sent in that message,” you breathed. “In fact, I think I need it.”

To your surprise, Paul didn’t waver like you assumed he would. Large palms were quick to scoop under your jaw, pulling you forward into an impassioned kiss. Two sets of lips colliding in a hungered clash, bodies melting into one another, your own hands clutching at the scratchy tweed jacket he wore. The entanglement was frenzied, rough, much more forceful and impatient than either of you would normally act in your separate lives. In these moments those pasts selves seemed like distant memories, both of you shedding the bondage of your doubts in mere seconds, succumbing to the impulses sparked to life by what should have been an inconsequential meeting.

Each kiss never wavered in its intensity, only thriving with heat and fervour, feeling Paul beginning to suck and bite at your lower lip while his hands wandered over your clothes. The irritation that arrived at the barrier between his touch and your flesh was enough to make another decision resolute.

This man was gasoline to your waiting fire, and you wanted him to pour himself all over you, not caring if the world around you burst into flames.

Before you could get the words out, what was going to be an eager plea, he stole them from you.

“M-More?” he gasped, trailing delicate pecks down your neck. “Would… Would you want more?” The question was followed by the slow push of his hips into you, providing another show of evidence that was too persuading to refuse. Into his collar you grabbed two fists of fabric, pulling him backwards with you. He followed your lead gladly, a tangle of legs treading somewhat haphazardly over the shop floor, avoiding the circular displays of dress shirts until your back finally knocked into the dressing room door.

Even if you’d had second thoughts at the risk this was to your job if you were caught ravaging a newly obtained client on the security cameras, they would have been erased at the way Paul clutched at your hips and ushered you inside the small cubicle, refusing to let his mouth stray from yours as a single hand moved to fiddle the lock closed behind him.

The second after it clicked into your confinement, there was a pause, with a rushed whisper into your ear. “I don’t… I don’t usually do this…”

“Me either,” you rasped back, nails clawing into his hair as he set another deepened kiss on you. “This… I’ve never been… so hasty.”

There was a low groan that rumbled from Paul’s throat as you pulled lightly to tilt his head back, skating your lips under his jawline. He took the opportunity of your parted mouths to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. “I’m not… rushing you… am I? We can stop… If you want to stop-”

You smile, warmed by his gallantry, before nibbling at the rise of his collarbone. “I want to keep going. Please… Don’t stop.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“Say please. Again.”

“Please,” you whined back, delving into a begging tone.

The fingers clutching at your waist tensed at the proclamation, moving down to the curve of your ass as another gradual thrust was pressed into the apex of your thighs. You could feel it, feel him, the physical indication of just how sincere his desire truly was. It made you ache, made you suddenly feel too empty, too incomplete. Instinct made you about to reach for the buckle of Paul’s belt so you would know the full scale of what would hopefully be yours to take, but he was too quick.

With impressive dexterity, Paul unfastened the button of your slacks, slipping one hand inside while the other became curled around your neck, anchoring you into place. He hesitated at the hem of your cotton panties, his tempered breath warm over your face while your stares held one another’s.

“I want to touch you… Would that be okay?”

You immediately nodded, rolling your hips upward to meet his stilled hand. “Touch me Paul. Please.”

It was a magic word, dashing any of his reservations in an instant. Fingertips swiftly slipped underneath the thin fabric, skimming over the trail of pubic hair that the feel of made Paul’s cock throb even harsher than before. While never explicitly voiced out loud, he loved the natural state of a woman, knowing it set off something primal in him he couldn’t quite explain. The recognition made a hurried groan escape before even dipping into the line of your folds, only for another one to follow at the sensation of slick essence waiting there.

A gasp leapt from your throat, the sound settling into a delighted whimper as Paul explored you, letting two of his fingers trace up and down, teasing the edge of your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, capturing your lips in another fevered convergence. “Have you… Have you been like this since…?”

“The whole time,” you finished. “Since I first saw you, heard your voice…”

Paul’s subsequent groan echoed in the small space. The people in his life were never this forthcoming with their information, and here you were being so unrestricted and honest. He wanted to reward you for it. His movements shifted to centre on the swollen nub of your clit, placing sweetened kisses just below the lobe of your ear. “Do you want to come?”

You mewled as increasingly more intense pulsations of ecstasy began to billow out from your core. Every motion this man made with his fingers was unlike anything you’d encountered before. There was finesse, an elegance in every subtle action, smooth and severe at the same time. “Oh god, yes. I want to come, I want you to make me come.”

“Will you be a good girl for me?”

The question had arrived without Paul being able to prevent it, and he immediately felt a wash of dread simmer through him. What if you weren’t into that? What if he’d fucked this all up with one slip of the tongue?

He needn’t have worried.

“Do good girls get to come?” you asked, nails clawing into the hair at the nape of Paul’s neck.

He couldn’t have been more relieved, increasing his pace on you, a positively beaming smile being pressed into your throat in between the small licks and open-mouthed kisses he began to coat under your jawline. “They do. And you’ve already been such a good girl. So good for me. So wet… So willing...”

“A-anything for you,” you puffed out, breathless at the rising pleasure Paul was igniting, mind blurred from the combination of his exhale skating over your skin and the expert flourishes he traced over your bundle of nerves. “I’ll be anything. Your good girl, bad girl, anything you want.”

“You’re already everything I want,” Paul cooed. While true he’d only seen glimpses of your full self so far, he was already convinced of the words he’d spoken. It made him feel even more courageous, more ravenous to please you. “And I want to show you how much. Does my good girl trust me?”

A delirious hum filled the air as your agreement. How could you not say yes to such a question? You were already putty in Paul’s hand the moment he’d finally kissed you, and with his hardness pressing against your thigh as a promise of what might be to come, there was no way in hell you would have refused. It wouldn’t have been a lie either. You did trust him. Not that you could explain why right now.

With your consent given, Paul retreated from you, only to snatch at your wrist at the same time he unlocked the changeroom door. You gasped softly as he pulled you out into the now darkened space, thankfully having the shop lights set on a timer to switch off before you were meant to leave. Although, it now appeared your night was long from over.

The subtle glow of the computer screensaver guided Paul to exactly where he’d planned, steering you to the edge of the counter and immediately propping you onto it. You would have squealed in surprise if not for the way he led another assault on your lips, standing between your spread legs, also beginning to tear apart the buttons of your blouse and wrench the covering away. The dull, beige bra you wore underneath was the next item to be taken from your body, Paul having the latch unclasped with a single flick of his fingers. As the straps were dragged down your arms, he moved his mouth downwards to a perked nipple, tongue toying with the bud as you rocked your head back with a decadent sigh.

“So beautiful,” he rumbled against your chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your fingers snaked into Paul’s hair again, relishing the praise you’d rarely been afforded as he set himself onto your other breast, darting the tip of tongue around the sensitive centre. You could have let him linger there, but you became acutely aware of the shifted balance of your exposure, your torso bared while Paul’s remained irritatingly layered. That needed to be corrected.

You pulled on the inky strands to force Paul’s head back before starting work moving the jacket from over his shoulders. He allows it to slide off easily, hearing a small thud below as the heavy article fell in a crumpled heap. The sweater was next to be peeled off, finding yourself smirking at how Paul’s glasses became crooked from the woollen material slipping over his face. He caught your amused expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you giggled softly, fixing the frames to properly sit on the bridge of his nose. “You’re just… so cute.”

A gawky smile spread across Paul’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d been called cute before. He liked it more than he would have thought. The warmth it set off in his chest made him capture you in a kiss once more, although this one was significantly less urgent and more… affectionate. Slower, delicate, mouths moving in a hypnotic synchronicity, so much so Paul didn’t notice you’d unlocked the buttons of his shirt until you were pulling the tucked in portion out of his trousers.

As the dreadful, yellowed fabric was finally abandoned to reveal the torso beneath, you heard Paul release a rumble of satisfaction when your hands began to roam over the uncovered skin. You, yourself had to stifle a moan just from the feel of him alone. You’d imagined in your idle daydreaming a toned form hidden underneath those god-awful clothes, but it hadn’t prepared you for this. Every muscle was defined, tightened, firm underneath your touch, his chest so broad even your two splayed out hands didn’t cover the full expanse. You couldn’t stop yourself from withdrawing backwards just to view it with your own eyes, biting hard on your lower lip as you took in the sight.

It made Paul suddenly self-conscious, casting his eyes down. “I don’t- My job keeps me so busy… Getting to the gym is a little hard-”

“What? No!” you stopped him, realising where his train of thought had gone. You tilted his chin upwards to force your stares to meet. “I was actually just thinking how much more I hate that terrible outfit for hiding all of this-” You let your hands skim down his front, leaning in close, “-from me.”

Paul’s lips curved upwards. “You were?”

“I really was.” You set your lips under his jaw, reaching around Paul’s flanks to scratch your nails lightly over the middle of his back. “By far the sexiest customer I’ve ever had walk in here.”

Paul wanted to scoff. Being called sexy was even rarer for him than being called cute. And yet, with the way you pressed your naked breasts against him, clutching him closer to you while your hot breath at his shoulder made his hairs stand up, it was the first time in his life he believed it might be true. So, instead of dismissing the sentiment, he allowed it to take over, embracing the swell of fearlessness it brought.

Suddenly your pants, along with the panties underneath, were being excitedly wrenched down the curve of your ass, Paul having them stripped from your legs within seconds. If anyone walking past peered into the shopfront, they might have seen you draped over the register now completely devoid of clothing. But, you didn’t care. Not when Paul had proceeded to lower himself between your opened thighs, holding them apart with his large hands, his eyes wide and wandering over your cunt.

“Fuck,” he marvelled. With one long stripe, his tongue travelled up the divide, groaning into your centre. “Tastes even better than it looks.”

Leaning on your elbows, you whined as Paul began to gently lap at you, dipping further inside each time, occasionally holding his focus on swirling over your aching clit. It made you whimper and writhe against him, overwhelmed with an incessant need of the release he’d been sparking for what seemed like hours.

“You want to come huh?” Paul spoke out loud. “Grinding your pussy on my face like that?”

“Please! I need it! So, so, badly.”

Ah, that magic word again. “I know,” Paul soothed, having to palm himself over his trousers just to calm some of the impulse to fuck you right then. “You’ve been so good, doing so well. And you’ll get to come real soon. Just promise me one thing okay?”

“Whatever you want,” you heaved, watching while Paul’s fingertips drifted over the slippery flesh, teasing in and out of the folds.

“Be a good girl and ask my permission when you’re about to come. Can you do that?”

Again, it was only a pitiful moan you could supply as your answer, which this time wasn’t quite enough to satiate the man gliding his touch over you infuriatingly slowly.

“I need to hear you say it. I need you to tell me what you’re going to do.”

Another cry left you as Paul slipped two fingers inside your heat, your mind blurred from the feel of knuckles moving past the edge of your entrance, stretching you open. “Be… Be a good girl… I’ll be your good girl and ask permission.”

Hearing you say the words, Paul was sure he’d never been so hard in his whole existence. It was almost painful, his cock straining against the zipper he was trapped by, but it was a pain he savoured more than ignored. Even if this was as far as he got, if this scene ended with your cum smeared over his lips and nothing more, he would be grateful for the throbbing down below and gladly thank you for it. So, he dove in.

As the duel sensation of Paul’s tongue and fingers rose in their intensity, your back became flush with the marble countertop, only to have it arched as the rippling currents of ecstasy started shooting through your whole body. Muscles twitching, thighs trembling, you were astounded at how proficient he was at drawing your climax to the surface, somehow knowing the motions and spots that brought it ever closer to the point of breaking. Usually, in those uncommon occurrences a man would want to put forth the effort, many minutes would float on while you chased the seemingly unreachable high. Paul needed only a few of them before your breaths turned staggered and toes began to curl, scrambling to find your voice.

“I… I’m… oh god, Paul, you’re going to make me… Please… please let me…”

He didn’t dare to pull away to speak his encouragement out loud, instead silently spurring you along while keeping his pace steady.

Get the words out, you can do it. Just ask the question. I want to see you come. I want to see how pretty you look when you come.

You bolted up, stomach tensing, snatching both sets of fingers into Paul’s hair. With him captured in your stare as more waves of pleasure crested from your core, you turned begging. “Oh please. I’m so… So close… Can I please come? Will you let me come?”

Paul groaned, the vibrations ricocheting outwards, being quick with his reply. “It’s okay, you can come. Come for me baby, come nice and hard for me.”

Back slumping down onto the cold countertop, you did as you were told. Walls clenched around Paul’s fingers in quickened spasms as your coarse sighs filled the balmy atmosphere. He’d never watched something so enthralling, the way your chest rose and fell with sweat clinging to your skin as you rode out the heavenly bliss you’d fallen into. Only when he was positive you’d slipped into the beginning of your afterglow did Paul retreat, resting over your body to place adoring kisses at your forehead and cheek.

“You did so good,” he murmured.

The connection rattled you back into the current reality, moving to rub your palm over his hidden erection. “We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not?”

You were far beyond the point of playing coy. “Can you please fuck me now? I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Your pleading tone set something alight inside him, dragging you down until your feet made it to the floor and spinning you around in one swift action. Bent at the edge of the desk, a jingle of a belt buckle rung out, finally feeling Paul’s hardness press against your rear. And he felt huge. Thankfully still seeping from your climax, it was with ease he was able to eagerly sink into your waiting cunt, a rousing groan escaping from each of you.

“Oh fuck. You… feel so fucking good.” An arm slinked around your waist to wrench you flush against Paul’s torso, having his panting breath directly in your ear as he continued to drive himself further inside, gradually building his momentum. “Such a tight, wet pussy for me to make mine.”

“It’s yours,” you mewled. “It’s all yours.”

Paul lost his ability to speak, merely producing a growling moan into your neck as the pace and strength of his thrusts amplified, having little restraint left to hold himself back any longer. Repeated lewd, slapping sounds mingled with the coupled moans and whimpers of your collective satisfaction, passion radiating off your bodies in the form of feverish heat. It wasn’t long until you noted the stuttered exhales rushing out of Paul’s chest, a clear sign you didn’t miss.

“Want you to fill me. If… If you want to… You can… Fill me all the way up.”

Sure, it was reckless as all hell, but Paul trusted you like you’d trusted him, and the sound of your begging hit him like a lightning bolt. He lost complete control, plunging harder and faster into you, feeling your ass bounce against him, the pulsing below growing harsher and harsher until finally… release.

His embrace around you was suffocatingly strong as he spilled himself within your walls, sure the grip of his fingers would leave marks to find in the morning. Not that you minded. As the last of his energy dwindled into slackening thrusts, you again felt the dotting of small, sweetened kisses touch your skin, lining the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” Paul awed, still tracing his palm over your bare flesh. “That was… amazing.”

About to chuckle at his lack of originality, a worrying thought sparked. “Oh my god!” You spun on your heels to encounter a bewildered expression. “The security cameras! They would have filmed everything! Oh god, I’m so fired.”

To your confusion, Paul had a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’ve got some experience in surveillance. I can handle it.”

“Huh? You do?”

He kissed the wrinkled portion of your brow. “I work for the NSA. And I could have sworn there was some suspicious activity occurring in these premises in the last… 30 minutes or so.”

Tagging those who might be interested! Sorry if it’s not your jam

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @fathersonandhouseofgucci @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza @millenialcatlady

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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desiraypark · 3 years

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Alright.

So.

I really wasn’t trying to get too deep into the mess. Why? For a couple of reasons.

1) Because when I joined this ADCU fandom--I was very aware that I was going to see racist shit. A lil’ internalized sexism. All of that. I’d mentally prepared myself for it before I came through, or tried my very best. As I stated in a post a week or two ago, I was very vocal about these things in my younger adult years, but now, I am tired and just no longer interested in letting racism, misogynoir, microaggressions, and other things on the internet get my blood pressure up (because I’ve gotta deal with it in real life). I simply block, filter, and move on. This is my path. Not saying that it’s right, that’s just the stage that I’m in right now.

2) What I’ve heard of this controversial fic is offensive to me. More so, the erasure of certain elements about the Civil War is what I found offensive. Did it piss me off or enrage me? No, because again, I’m tired lol. Offended, yes? Angry--me? No.

Now, I’m not writing this as a “woman of color”. This is a BLACK woman about to tell you what HAS pissed me off over these last few days. And I’m saying it straight from my account--not on anon or some account that just blossomed a couple of days ago.

I’m writing this as a Black woman who lives in a neighborhood that used to be a plantation (big house and slave cabins still up and intact up the street from my home) - because there is barely a place in my city you can walk where your feet don’t touch land that used to be a plantation, or a slave trading station, or an auction block, or a public whipping post, etc. I live in a city that is ENTRENCHED in “memories of the Civil War” -- “good” and bad memories.

I’m writing this as a Black woman who once worked next door to a Confederacy Museum--MUSEEEEUM--and watched old white men sit outside of the building with their flags. Or, who once had an old white man come to into my job, walked up to me with a shady, condescending glint in his eye, to ask me questions about “the museum next door” that he hoped to visit one day.

I love historical AUs and write them myself. Me, personally, I’m not gonna tell anybody they can’t write romantic/smutty Civil War AUs (I’m just gonna fucking block them). Because people are gonna do what they want and as we’ve seen demonstrated, there are some people who are gonna do the shit HARDER if it’s called out. But I DON’T have the privilege of reading something in that setting and being able to imagine myself as a landowner. This is a fact.

People can say “oh, well there were Black landowners back then!” But could they own that land without a “guardian”? Could they walk around town without “papers” to “prove” that they were free? Do we think that free and/or landowning Black people were just walking around untouched in the 1860s and AFTER? We LITERALLY just commemorated the 100th Anniversary of the Tulsa massacre. Come the fuck on, now.

I can BARELY write my 1920s AU shit without thinking about how race impacts the my OCs. I just CAN’T make that separation. And it must be nice that some of you WOC and white readers can do that. I’m happy for you. Whatever.

Now, from what I’ve gathered, I believe that this is the point that was originally being brought to SH--that not only could some of her audience not see themselves in this story, but some of them actually might be hurt by it. And instead of being thoughtful of that, excuses were made. The “colorblind” card was thrown out and it was stressed that “sides” in a Civil War setting were written “vaguely”. The dismissal and denial is what has frustrated me.

But ah, here’s the thing.

This is a pattern.

I think some of you might be under the impression that this might be the author’s “first misstep” (that is, if you think that is the case at all). I’m going to tell you a quick story. And this story is not secret--these incidents and the posts (pro-cop posts) that correspond to them were shared publicly.

I’ve long had SH blocked for awhile. Why?

You remember when another writer whose name started with an “S” went through this whole thing about all cops not being bad? I was actually quite friendly with that writer and expressed among people (including SH) that I wanted to reach out to S because I knew she was young and probably just hadn’t lived enough life and been around others to understand why their stance was problematic (and wrong). But then, I found out that she’d done the whole deleting POC’s comments thing...

She’d reached out to me wanting to talk, but at that point, after learning about commentary deletion, I didn’t want to be bothered. I decided that I would not reach out to her. I unfollowed her and moved on, because as I later told SH, Aiyana Stanley Jones was born around the same year that S was--but unlike Aiyana (who was murdered by WHO?), S will be fine. And I don’t regret my decision. I would have been a fool to try to be the Black person who “reaches out” to try to educate somebody. And I would have regretted doing so.

So, anyway. SH tried to encourage me to talk to S anyway, because S felt so bad and hurt. I politely declined, gave my reasons why, and me and SH left it at that and remained cordial. This is something I do regret because I should have known better. Because guess what? About a month later (IF THAT), SH made a post regurgitating S’s same pro-cop sentiments.

But I made no fuss. I simply unfollowed and blocked. She’d shown me who she was and I finally decided to believe her. No need to argue. I had no desire to “call her out” because she already knew how I felt--and she’d only shown me that (as history has shown my ass time and time again), I don’t matter to her and I don’t count in the world she’d rather exist in--(edit: or at the very least, the fanfic worlds she’d like to create). Calling her out would have been fucking pointless.

So, I can’t let this week end with y’all thinking that this is just some “slip up” or misstep--or some “sudden attack” made out of jealousy or whatever other shit people are spewing. These recent events are merely a day that has long been coming.

Now.

I’m about to put “Civil War” in my filtered tags and content, and go on about my day. Bye.

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Bathtub Reunion {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous:

PLEASE PLEASE TELL US ABT PULLING HIM FROM THE TIE INTO THE BATHTUB

author’s notes: ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE, DEAR NONNY!!

warnings: fluff. romance. general sweetness. smut. bathtub sex. unprotected sex/creampie.

no tw’s :)

word count: a bit under 1.4k

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

terms to know

Tesoro means ‘treasure’ or ‘darling’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Bello means ‘handsome’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Amore mio means ‘my love’ in Italian. Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian. Dio means ‘God’ in Italian.

He’s been gone for over two weeks on business, Maurizio has. And god, you miss him.

You miss everything about your Mauri: his humor, his delightfully crooked smile, waking up to his handsome face every morning, his hands on your skin, his skin slapping against yours as he pounds you over his desk--

Fuck, you just miss him so much.

As a sort of distraction, that most definitely didn’t end up working, you decide to draw yourself a bath in the luxurious porcelain spa tub that he’d bought for you for your birthday.

Bubbles cover the clear water as a fountain of water spouts from the faucet, filling up the tub with steamy hot water. Once it’s full enough, you turn it off and a dead silence fills the space.

You sigh when you sink down into the bubbles, the water bringing great relief to your tired muscles. You reach over and turn on the radio, tuning it to the classics station before allowing your eyes to flutter shut as the soft melodies of the past bounce off the tile walls.

Little did you know that Maurizio had just arrived home and had set his suitcase down on the bed. He notices the low, warm light of what he assumes is candles coming from the bathroom. You always like lighting candles when you take a bath, he knows, and a small smirk tugs up at the corners of his mouth as he shrugs his suit jacket off.

He opens the door slowly, admiring how beautiful you look relaxing in the tub, bubbles covering your bareness from him, which only made the sight that much more erotic.

Maurizio carefully pads up to the ledge of the tub and takes a seat, leaning down. His lips are at your ear while his large hand reaches out to cup your makeup-free cheek.

“Tesoro...I’m home.”

Your eyes fly open and you smile up at him, sitting up. “Maurizio!”

He flashes you that crooked smile you love so much and the urge to kiss him is incredibly strong. “I’ve missed you so much, bello.”

“I’ve missed you too. It’s been so difficult not having you around. Next time, you’ll come with me. I need you by my side, tesoro.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you grab onto his tie and pull him down until his lips connect with yours. While the kiss starts out gently, it certainly doesn’t remain that way for long.

Maurizio hums against your lips, hand still cradling your face, lips beginning to dance with yours in a swift rhythm. It feels like a lifetime ago that you last kissed his soft, velvety lips and my god, somehow it’s more amazing than you remember.

“Come here.” You breathe, pulling him further.

His eyes widen and he chuckles against your lips, still sporadically kissing you. “Tesoro, I still have my clothes on.”

With a devious smirk, you wrap your arm around the back of his neck, pulling him into the tub. He laughs, allowing himself to be pulled into the tub fully clothed. His expensive dress shirt, slacks, leather belt and shoes will likely be ruined, but he doesn’t care about that. All he cares about is you.

Accepting his fate, he wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing you with great passion. He kisses all over your face, then your jaw, and finally he dips his head down to begin an assault on your neck.

Your head tilts back and you sigh, reaching up to tangle your hand in his beautiful chestnut tresses.

“Mmm, Mauri...”

He smirks softly, scraping his teeth against your thrumming pulse point. “Yes, amore mio?”

“Take me, please. I want you, Mauri, I need you.”

His hips gently press forward instinctively, hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. He sighs through his nose, bringing his lips back up to meet yours.

“I cannot wait, Y/N.” Maurizio whispers, reaching down to begin pulling his belt loose. “I must have you here, now.”

You smile, reaching up to expose his beautifully freckled and expansive chest one button at a time. He quickly pulls his length out from the confines of his suit pants, pumping himself to full hardness while he resumes his attack on your neck.

“You’re so beautiful, tesoro, always so beautiful.” He hums against your neck, licking at your skin.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your heels dig into his lower back, encouraging him closer. He laughs softly at your eagerness, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Ready, beautiful?”

As soon as you nod, he presses forth, sheathing himself fully inside you slowly but steadily. His forehead falls forward onto yours, a shaky sigh leaving his lips once he’s seated fully inside.

“Cazzo, you’re even tighter than I remember.” His jaw is clenched as he begins to rock his hips back and forth.

Your jaw slacks when he enters you, girthy length stretching you open as his tip reaches the inner depths of your insides. He kisses you as he thrusts, grunting and groaning into your mouth.

“Mm, mm, Maurizio.” You whimper, hands tangling in his hair. “You feel so amazing, bello.”

His hands grab at the bottoms of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as his pace increases two-fold, orgasm on the horizon. Water sloshes all around your bodies with each of his powerful thrusts, surely escaping the tub and streaming onto the floor, but neither of you could be bothered to care at the moment. Towels exist for a reason.

“Ohh dio, go ahead and touch yourself, tesoro, rub yourself for me. I want to feel you come undone around my cock.”

Your hand slides down between your spread legs, swirled fingertips making contact with the erect bud. A quick gasp slips through your lips and your eyebrows furrow as you begin to rub tight, quick little circles over the nub.

“M-Mauri, I...I’m gonna...so close.”

He nods, shoes beginning to slip more and more with his hips’ increase in speed. “Go ahead, tesoro, go ahead and let go.”

Waves of pleasure suddenly crash over you after a few moments of your motions combined with his, moaning as your insides clamp down onto his length.

“Fuck--Maurizio!”

Maurizio barely holds on, but he keeps fucking you through your high before reaching his own. “Ohhh, tesoro!” He groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, pumping his load deep inside you.

His body goes slack after he’s ridden out his high and he collapses next to you. Both of you take a minute to recover and catch your breath before he gently drapes his arm over your torso and mouths softly at your neck.

“You’re incredible, amazing, wonderful. I'm so happy to be back home with you, tesoro.”

You smile, turning your head to press a kiss to his hairline. “I’m happy you’re back, too, Mauri. And sorry about ruining your clothes.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“It was more than worth it, and I can always get new ones. Now, let’s get you dried, dressed, and into bed, yes?”

Nodding, you can’t help giggling when he scoops you up bridal-style and steps out of the tub, soaking wet and dripping all over the place. He blushes.

“Would you mind if I put you down for just a moment while I take my clothes off?”

“Of course you can.” You reply, smiling and giving him a quick kiss as he sets you down. “I’ll go get us some towels.”

Once you’re both bare and dried, Maurizio scoops you back up and carries you into the closet where, while still holding you in his arms, you pull a nightgown from its hanger before he brings you back out to the bed. He sets you down gently, smiling and kissing you one more time.

The two of you get dressed in peaceful silence, then quickly crawl under the warm covers of the bed, seeking and finding each other’s warmth almost instantly.

There, you doze off shortly after to the rhythmic sound of Maurizio’s beating heart, wearing a small smile the entire time you do so. Reunited, at last.

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