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hrh-selene-r · 3 years

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Beyond Words (4/?)

The Big Sweep

Eight years have come and gone, and it seems that everyone has moved on; Hannah has a new life with a Baby upstate, and even Ray found a bit of happiness in his life, but where does that leave Adam? Still in the same apartment with the same problems. Now, feeling adrift in the stagnation he finds himself in, Adam will try to break old habits and see if he can grow-up. Something easier said than done, that is until he meets you.

This is a bit of a post series/retcon picking up from where Adam’s story left off in Season 6 episode 8 titled “What will we do this time about Adam?”

Adam Sackler x Reader

4.5K Words

Warning: Angst, break up, Depression, cursing.

It’s been a week of secret apartment hunting and script reading for any new possible project, but his efforts finally bear fruit. ‘Fucking Ray. Thank god he came through’ Adam thought as he was one the line of his favorite deli just a few blocks away from his apartment. He shifts anxiously as he rehearses in his mind what he wants to say to Jessa when the moment comes.

‘Jesus. Fuck’ He fixes his hair fidgeting (well dreading, really) the confrontation to come. Her clinginess hasn’t stopped in the least, wanting to go out together, stay in together, have sex in their old haunts; she’s even been texting him more frequently. It’s not that he didn’t like the attention (or the sex), but Jessa’s always been aloof, and independent. If anything, Adam is the clingy one; things used to be so easy before but this change in dynamic was a bit jarring to him, to say the least.

‘She’s just making things harder’

He was a thousand miles away when he finally sat down, and in true Adam fashion, he doesn’t eat, so much as he scarfs down his meal; six eggs (four of them just the whites), and two slices of turkey bacon. It’s while drinking what’s left of his coffee that his phone alerts him of a new incoming text. Fishing it out of his pocket and saw that he had three texts; two from Luke, letting him know that he got the callback for the Jim Anderson play with the details of where it’s going to be, the other asking if he had finished reading another script that he’d sent him.

‘Yesssssss!!’ He cheered on the inside, holding in his urge to scream it out loud. Finally! At least some things were looking up.

The other text was from Jessa, making fun about one of her classmates, with a rather mean spirited snarky remark.

He scoffs a bit after reading it, her smarmy wit coming through her words. It's moments like these that remind him of their friendship, and their shared chemistry. The thought only served to churn his stomach, bringing to the forefront of his mind what he’ll tell her.

‘ “Look Jessa, I’ve been doing some introspection lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re better as friends and that I need some time apart” Too formal? No….Shit! “Jessa let’s be real, you would’ve left me in a few months anyway, so I’m doing us both a favor” ..’

“Motherfuck!” He hissed under his breath.

He looked at the time in his phone and got up. He has to get going, not wanting to be late to meet his building manager.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The building itself wasn’t too far, it was still in Brooklyn, not like he could afford anything more upscale, and even then, rents in the boroughs were outrageous; gentrification saw to that. But for all the artisanal ice cream boutiques and organic green tea, there’s a charm in Brooklyn that has captured his heart; for now, this was home. This place has seen his loves and loses and has seen him at his worst and at his best.

Adam walks up to the front steps where a woman is sitting on the stoop, seemingly waiting; looking at her phone as she does so. She looks up and sees him in the eye, causing him to look away awkwardly to avoid her thinking he was a creep or something, but her gaze was more curious than anything.

She tilts her head sideways to get a better look at him. “Adam?”

‘Do I know her? Oh fuck, have I fucked her?’ he thinks, his mid going through the roster of girls to see if he knew her from somewhere. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously after his mind came up blank. He doesn’t know her....at least he thinks he doesn’t know her.

“I’m Jaime. I’m the building manager? My dad probably told you about me when he showed you the apartment.” She explains, hopefully jogging his memory, as she gets up to face him.

“You’re Jaime?” He asks, taking a good look at her. Her hair is long and dark up, reaching up to her waist; her body, clothed in oversized jeans and a black tank top, is skinny but not too skinny as to make her look malnourished, her complexion is dark, coupled with deep brown eyes, a wide nose full glossy lips and a beauty mark above her left eyebrow.

“Yeah, were you expecting anyone else?” she smirked haughtily at him, making him to quickly reply out an answer to avoid any embarrassment.

“No! I just thought that I’d be meeting your dad.” he corrects himself and holds out his hand to shake her hand in greeting. She responded in kind, extending her hand to shake his. Her hand was adorned by wide silver rings in her fingers, her nails were decorated with an orange nail polish that was mostly chipped away.

“He got held up, asked me to do it. Legally I can, as the building manager. So, you ready to sign?”

“Uh, Yeah.” he answers her as she gestures for him to follow her, leading him up the stairs to what will be his new apartment.

Climbing three flights of stairs, standing in front of a door marked ‘3A’, Jaime places the key in the lock and opens the door before gesturing for him to go in.

The apartment itself was big, or big for New York standards, at least, It was a one bedroom apartment, complete with a separate living room, the bathroom was down the hallway, and with a small kitchen right next to what could be converted to a small dining room. It suited him. The apartment was eerily reminiscent of the one he lives in now, the most remarkable difference is that the kitchen has a separate countertop for a bar, not to mention that the living room was roomier, with a tall window providing the space with a good amount of natural light.

It was thankfully in his budget, and that’s what mattered to him the most, nevermind the fact that he basically found an affordable apartment with this much space; which to be clear, is nothing short of impossible.

The pair start to walk into the empty living room space. “You’re lucky you were able to snag this place. We haven’t gotten the word out yet, or anything about this place. So you got the exclusive first look.” Jaimie mentions as she walks to the kitchen counter, grabbing the papers and the pen.

Not knowing how to respond to her and him having his own special brand of social skills , Adam just answers with a simple “Yeah.”

“If anything you’re lucky you know Ray, being on the city council makes you meet a lot of people in the community; and stick-in-the-mud Ray knows a lot of people.” She smiles at him.

“Yeah well we’ve been friends for a while, now.” He replies to her with a polite smile back.

“Yeah. Anyway, this is the contract.” Jaime changes the direction of the conversation to the issue at hand, sliding the contract file in his direction with a pen in her hand.

“Sign here, and here….I need initials here.” She directed him as he started to sign the papers, trying to keep up with her quick directions.

Once it was finished, she handed him a stack of papers. “Okay, so this is your copy of the lease, and these are your keys. Heads up.” She dangled the keys before throwing them in his direction for him to catch, moving towards the exit to leave to the privacy of his new place. Stopping at the door, Jaimie looks back to face him as he turns around to face her.

“So you already know my name. Rent’s due on the first. If you need anything, my apartment’s on the first floor; apartment ‘1B’. If you need me but I’m not in, just slip a note under my door. ‘Kay? Any questions?”

“Uh, nope.”

“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you Adam Sackler. Welcome to the building.” With that she gave him a small smirk and waved goodbye, shutting the door behind her on her way out; leaving him alone with his thoughts in his new apartment.

It’s official now, he can’t put it off anymore. He’s following the advice Ray gave him; hell, even Josh said it. Here, in the emptiness of his new space, in the bright white light of day, he finally sees what he’s been avoiding for so long.

He loved her, he cared for her, but was he ever in love with her?

He was just as quick to get back to her as soon as he realized that things with Hannah wouldn't work out. He quickly left Jessa once he found out that Hannah was pregnant and….’I don’t know.’ ‘Maybe I’m with her ‘cause it’s easy...I’m so fucked up!’ Adam furiously scrubbed his face with both hands, breathing deeply and exhaling through his nostrils.

Alone, in the middle of the empty apartment, bathed in the light from the windows, he knew. It was just like that time; he knew what he had to do.

It was time to rip the band-aid off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, after doing a few errands he had to do for the new place, Adam was standing outside of his (old?) apartment building. Looking at the window of the apartment, he takes a deep breath, gathering his bravery to face the situation.

He makes the journey up the stairs, and opens the door. The apartment is empty, judging by the hour, Jessa’s probably still in class. Taking advantage of the circumstances, he starts packing up his things; his mind making a list of the things to take with him .

‘My clothes, books. It's a good thing I don’t have a lot of stuff. I can buy food, and I already got a bed taken care of. I’m gonna have to come back for my work out stuff, my weights and the bench at least.’

Little by little Adam starts to take his favorite things, taking his time to consider what to leave behind. A practice he’s by now well-used to.

The front doors opens and in walks Jessa, her hair in a bun, wearing a loose red tee shirt with denim blue high waisted jeans, the bags in her hand suggest she bought something.

“Hey you in?!” Her voice rings through the small apartment, reaching Adam’s ears, causing him to freeze, inwardly flinching in anticipation of what’s to come. ‘Time to face the fucking music. *sigh*’ He moves out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to find her putting things away on the fridge.

“Heeeeeey.”

“I brought some groceries since the fridge was empty.” she told him casually, her head buried inside the refrigerator as she took things from the bag and placed them inside.

“You have a good day?” His stance is awkward, his hands behind his back as he debated on how to best start the conversation; break it to her while hoping to god that she takes it well.

“Not bad, Nancy is a fucking cunt, but that’s just her. Either way…” Jessa approaches him, pulling him for a kiss, smiling as she does so “She’s just irritates me, so...how was your day?” Her hands run through the familiar course of his chest sweetly. A small shrug moved his shoulders nonchalantly as he looked at her. Was this really it? “It was okay, I did a few errands.”

Hearing this her brow furrowed a bit, looking into his eyes as he stared at her. “You did errands, what errands? Didn’t you have an audition?”

“Yeah, look can we talk?” He asks as he nervously fidgets, gesturing for them to sit down on the couch. If there’s something that can be said about Adam is that he’s as subtle as a hammer.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, he nervously passes a hand through his hair, trying to find a way to get what he needed to say out. Jessa looked at him curiously, waiting for him to talk but finding herself growing impatient as the seconds passed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” She urges calmly.

Adam’s forehead wrinkled in concentration, both of his hands pressed against his face as his fingers covered his eyes. “This isn’t something that I wanna have to tell you. I know this isn’t fair to you, especially after the whole thing with Hannah.”

“I’ve been doing some introspection, or whatever, and um...I’ve been going to meetings…”

“You’ve been going to meetings?” She interrupted, concern etched on her her face as her brows lifted before furrowing in thought.

“Yeah.”

“Well. Have you been drinking?”

“No!” He answered urgently. “I just…” Adam’s lips tense into an outstretched line for a brief moment while he finds a way to verbalize his thoughts.

“I’ve been going to meetings and taking time to think….And…” A few seconds pass. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath in a sigh. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I; that WE..need time apart.” His eyes searched hers for any indication of understanding or sympathy, but they found nothing. Her gaze was blank as she was deep in thought as he spoke. “ Look, this has nothing to do with Hannah. Whatever she and I had. It’s over, it’s finished.” His baritone voice is soft and calm as he tries to sound as serious as possible. In his mind he is an adult trying to have a serious conversation with his partner. Gone is the lovable boyish demeanor he usually carried; replaced with a grim faced man as he leans over to look at her. His elbows rest on his knees and clasps his hands together, giving away his anxiety.

“I never told you how sorry I am for that...and I hurt you. It’s just that, I don’t know if it was filming the movie or if it was just life in fuckin’ general, but I was reminded of what Hannah and I had. I felt it, so I felt that there was too much history there to not try and set things right. To help her, and be there for her.” The sound of his voice reverberated through the small apartment as he looked at the floor. “ But we’re too different now and want different things. And...Now I feel like I need some space to figure shit out alone. Not just for me, because I really do care about you, Jessa.”

Jessa looks at the ground in silence, not wanting to look at him in the eyes and see her worst nightmare.

“I’m gonna be moving out, take the time to focus on my life. You can stay here, keep most of the stuff. I’ll still pay for your classes. I meant what I said.”

Jessa nods slowly, pursing her lips while processing his words.

“Okay...if that’s how you feel.” Her tone is a bit above a whisper, feigning understanding in her short words. She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her legs on the couch with a nonchalant expression. Like everything else, nothing fazes her.

Adam scoffs at her response, unable to believe how she can be so calm while he was essentially breaking up with her. No, he saw what this was. “ Oh, come the fuck on Jessa, this is just like last time. Do you seriously not give a fuck? I know you feel something. Get angry; hit me, throw something at me. For fuck’s sake, it isn’t good to bottle everything in...Just tell me how you feel.”

A deep sigh went through her nose, her eyes showed that something was beneath the surface as she shakes her head slightly and looks at him. “What do you want me to say? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re communicating; and if this is how you feel, then there’s no point in fighting against it.”

‘Un-fucking-believable.’ Adam moves his left hand towards his cheek, lightly scratching at the hairs in his stubble. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not feeling anything; that your feelings aren’t valid.” He lets out a breath of frustration as he realizes that she put up her walls to him and she won’t budge. ‘The hitting and screaming would’ve been better.’ “Fine.”

Keeping with her attitude, Jessa clicks her tongue and leans back lazily before asking the dreaded question. “So when do you move out.”

“I was thinking about leaving today.”

“Oh...so you have a place to stay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. My stuff’s mostly packed, and I’ll come back for the rest later...But I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“Adam, stop worrying! You’ve done nothing wrong. If you feel you have to do this; you gotta do what you gotta do.” A sardonic smile graces her face. She makes everything sound so simple; black and white.

He gently grabs her tattooed wrist in his large hand and looks deeply into her green eyes, trying to find a way to get through to her, to really talk to her.

“Hey..I still care about you. okay?” He told her gently, almost as if she were a child.

“Yeah.” Her response was short and curt.

Her walls remain up; impenetrable in their might as she refuses to show him, to show the world an ounce of vulnerability. A defense mechanism that took years in perfecting. An aloof facade she shows the world.

Jessa moves to get up, leaving him alone. Adam’s well aware that this was just a front, Jessa hasn’t changed,. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, but he’s doing this for her too. He knew it’d be worse if he stayed.

No other words were said as she sat crossed legged in their bed, smoking a cigarette while he finished packing. In the back of her mind she wonders if this is what being in a relationship is really like; being off and on, having that person come in and out of your life….It’s what her father did. ‘No’ She knows that’s not true. She’s seen people get married, have families and be happy. And besides, Adam’s not remotely like her father, he’s not like the previous men in her life. He’s different.

She moves to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass or orange juice, pretending that nothing is wrong, desperately trying to ignore his presence. She found it unbearable to watch as he left her for a second time. This time she’s more aware of her feelings for him, and she dreads what will become of them, of her while watching Adam go in and out of the apartment; getting his things downstairs.

He tried to be as quick as possible; throwing this mindlessly into garbage bags, making sure he took only what was important to him.

The hardest part about breaking up is trying to leave and stay on good terms. And he’s attempting to do just that. He figured that if he could do it with Hannah, maybe it was possible with Jessa.

Adam reached into his pocket and fished out his keys, he placed them on the counter beside the sink.

“You take care of yourself, okay?” He said awkwardly, looking at her one last time. His mouth is etched in a pout and his eyes are sullen at her lack of reply, but he still waits a few seconds for her, almost as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even look at him as he made his way out of the apartment.

Closing the door behind him, Adam takes a moment to just stand there, his mouth still set in a pout, his brows furrowed as he feels the weight of what’s happened.

Both lovers stand on either side of the closed door, each hoping that the other would take a step forward to open the door; to go back to the other, but neither one does. Adam stays there, feeling the guilt over what he’s done slowly spread; lamenting not just the loss of his lover, but the loss of his best friend.

‘It had to be done. There’s no point in staying anymore.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside of the apartment, Jessa just stood there, staring at the door; willing him to come back to her. Her face morphs from boredom to one of pure heartbreak. Her eyes start to water as her breathing changes to an erratic pace.

In the cold emptiness surrounding her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. Her mask vanishes, revealing the abandoned girl underneath, watching as her friend walked out of their home and her life.

This time she can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt; can’t deny the devastation she feels as her world blurs. She places the palm of her hands over her eyes as the tears overflow.

‘He’s done this before, and he came back; he’ll do it again.’ She reasons in her desperation, clinging to the idea that Adam will be back, that this is just a pattern. Because the alternative would be to accept that he left her for good.

‘Fucking Hannah!’ As she cries her thoughts become more chaotic. ‘Don’t go. Don’t do this to me.’ Her inner voice cries as she slides slowly towards the floor, bringing her knees towards her chest.

‘This is just how he is.’ She reasoned, still expecting him to come back, her mind repeating his last words over and over. He did say he cared about her, he still loved her; but as she continued to reason his return, a small part of her feared she was just clinging to an empty promise, that she was stupidly holding on to hope...and that he really did leave her.

The silence inside the apartment is maddening, the space is cold; isolated from the world filled only with her small cries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He should be used to moving, considering how often he did in the past eight years, but no, it was always a bitch. And the worst part about it? Doing it because of a break up. To say that it was awkward was an understatement, but he needed to end things well off with Jessa. God knows he’s ran into people from his past before enough times to know better. New York may be populated by millions of people, but it can turn into a very small place, when Karma feels like it. It’d be worse if he didn’t do it this way, he’s sure of it.

After getting the last of his things upstairs, he starts unpacking bit by bit. He doesn’t have a refrigerator yet, or a bed for that matter; those come in tomorrow, but Adam has been through worse, and one day without furniture hardly phases him. That being said sleeping on the floor isn’t something he’s looking forward to. Plus, this is what friends are for isn’t it? ...to crash on their couch when needed?

Adam takes his phone out, scrolling through the few contacts saved in it. He could ask Ray; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stay at his place, especially after a breakup. He could also ask Josh, he had offered his couch to let him crash before; maybe the offer’s still on the table.

‘Screw it.’

He hits on Josh’s contact and places the device next to his ear, waiting for a response on the other side of the line.

“Hey.” Josh’s deep voice sounds through the phone’s speaker.

“ Heeeey...listen, I got a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble, or whatever.” Adam started nervously, scratching his head as he talked.

“Yeah, man. Shoot.”

“I broke up with Jessa.” He blurted out. “I moved out.”

There was a slight silence on the line before Josh responded. “Well, shit. Do you need a place to stay? Until you find something?”

“I already got a place. I just need a place to crash until I can get the bed and fridge brought in here.”

“ Well you’re in luck, then. I’m actually on my way back from work. I gotta stop to pick up a few things and then I’m headed home.” Josh explained in his easy-going tone; like nothing bothers him at the moment. “ I’ll let Vanessa know; she’s coming over tonight.”

Adam hesitated “ I don’t wanna shit on your plans.”

“ Oh, fuck off. You’re not. Dude, trust me, Ness loves you. She’d be pissed if I didn’t help out. My sofa es su casa.”

Even though Josh can’t see him, Adam smiles at his friend’s words; his teeth peeking out from his lips and the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he does so. “ Yeah, okay. Just let me know when you’re at home. Text me or whatever.”

“You got it. Tonight we’re eating homemade Mexican food.”

“Yeah, Thanks.”

“Alright, see ya.”

With that, Adam hung up, comforted in the knowledge that he’ll be able to sleep in a comfortable, and most importantly cushioned, tonight. At least now he had a place to call his, and by pure stroke of luck, the apartment’s rent wasn’t as high as it could be. He’ll furnish it, little by little. He lives in New York, so someone’s bound to not want a couch somewhere. That leaves the matter of his kitchen. He’d have to buy glasses, plates and food, to at least have the very basics.

‘A bookshelf in the living room. I’ll put my bench in the bedroom...clothes go in the closet, I gotta get a chest or something with drawers..’

He turns to pick up the trash bags storing his clothes, taking them through the small hallway towards his bedroom closet. He’d have to do laundry before the end of the week, he reminded himself as he realized that he was in such a rush to pack everything that he didn’t think that some of his shirts in the bag used to be strewn across the floor of the apartment and stank of sweat.

He spent the next few hours doing what he can, organizing his clothes between what’s clean and what was to be laundered, he took his time to make sure everything was arranged to his liking; a far cry from how he was living 8 years ago. Back when he was an aimless mess living in an apartment cluttered with tools and random pieces of reclaimed wood; when he would rather fuck around with no strings attached than be emotionally vulnerable with someone.

To Adam, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Gone was the aloof fuckboy with an awkward haircut and no direction. Now in his place stands a more empathetic and responsible man.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard his phone come to life, sounding an alert to let him know he had just received a text and prompting him to look for it. Reaching for his back pocket, he fishes out his phone to see a message from Josh came in saying ‘Just got in.’ on the lit up screen. He’d finish unpacking later; now he was hungry, and Mexican seemed like just the thing…

——————————————————

Hey guys, I’m baaaaack!!!! :D

2020 has been a hell of a year, but I still wanted to end it on a good note. So here we have a short but sweet chapter where Adam wants to leave Jessa to focus on himself, but he knows how fragile and lonely she can be and tries to do it gently....Does it work? We'll have to find out. Safe to say, Jessa will be a reoccurring guest star on this show, so we’ll see how Adam handles this and how he manages to move on. So, leave a comment and let me know what y’all think.

Mucho Love and and a happy New year!!😊

Xoxo Selene R

Tag list for some friends (let me know if you’d like to be added)

@kowalskibro-adamdriverblog @tsarinastorm @alexdaleks @thrivingamidstchaos @klauscarolove @misskitred @ah-callie @sarcasticbitch @jynz-andtonic @oh-adam @commanderbensolo @kylos-wren @adamsnackler @patersonn-kylo @adamsnacc-kler @ellelaconiwrites @that-only-exists-in-my-mind @ktellmeastory @fallinallinmendes @noocturnalchild

#Beyond Words #adam sackler #girls hbo #adam sackler fanfiction #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler/reader #adam sackler/you #adam sackler x you #reader insert #adam/jessa #adam/reader #adam driver #readerchan #fem reader #fix it fic #fix it #girls fanfiction #retcon #post series

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honeycombme · 4 years

Text

Easy as Breathing

You had frequented the bar in town to the point of infatuation over the bartender. Upon learning his name, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. Clyde Logan. Blue jeans, t-shirts, and freckles mapped like stars. West Virginia is starting to look a lot sweeter.

Part 1.

(Pt. 2 available here!)

The air was so sticky in this town. Hot, humid, suffocating. Your job relocated you to West Virginia to work on data collection of disease transmission, not that there were enough people in this small town to track. Your work group consisted of a few co-workers who joined you from New England and a couple more who were local. You had been dying for this assignment to come to a conclusion, praying the next 6 months would fly by in a blink of an eye.

You were paid a stipend for housing, allowing you to lease a sweet little cottage on the edge of town. You had some land and a thickly wooded area nearby. You didn’t much like hanging around inside your place alone, though. The only thing you did enjoy doing these days was going to the local bar and slamming back gin and tonics. Oh, and ogling the handsome bartender.

You were formatting some data into programs when your co-worker, Lauren, shot you a text: “Duck Tape at 5:30pm? I’m thinkin it’s time you put a move on that hunky bartender, we’ve only got so much time ;)”

You huffed through your nose, looking from the screen of your phone to the screen of your work computer. Smirking, you replied, “It’s a date. Although, the amount of people in this town with STDs doesn’t really make me want to put a move on anyone! See you then, love”. You and Lauren had gotten much closer since you had both been assigned to this program, sharing the same, uninspired duties. You wrapped up your data analyses on STD transmission for the day, sending in the results to headquarters.

You left the house at 5:15pm, wearing a floral linen dress. Your makeup was light, small amount of color to your lip to make you look a little more done up. Dresses were the best invention; it’s cheating really, it’s one item of clothing and voila, you look like you tried. Before you got out of your car, you swiped on a tad more deodorant (it’s really fucking muggy) and just a touch more lip color. You waited for Lauren to pull in, and when she did, you both met each other at the door.

“Well well little lady” she exaggerated in a fake southern drawl,” I do think tonight is gonna be the night in that little get up.” She was gesturing to your curves and winked. You rolled your eyes at her and she swung open the door to the quaint, dark bar. You walked up to the bar with Lauren, taking a seat between the beer taps. As you hung your crossbody purse on the hooks below the bar, you turned to Lauren, “If you want to be the one taking me home, you’re gonna have to buy me a drink first!” Not able to find the hook without looking for it, you hunched your body more to be able to look under the bar, finding the hook and placing the strap around it.

“Who’s the lucky one getting taken home” cooed a deep baritone voice. In an attempt to meet his eyes, you tried to quickly raise yourself when you hit your head on the bar. Trying to recover, you popped up, “I meant to do that.”

“You alright, darlin’?” chuckled the bartender.

“I mean, I might have a concussion, but it’s nothing one of your drinks can’t cure,” you giggled. A pink hue bloomed in your cheeks, you were used to embarrassing yourself but this certainly wasn’t the person you wanted to do that in front of. He seemed kind enough though, didn’t make you feel like you were embarrassing at all. You tapped your fingernails lightly against the counter, leaning your head in your hand with your elbow on the bar.

“Gonna be the usual, y/n?” He looked to you attentively.

“You know my name?”

“Course I do, I pay attention to your friend here always callin on ya,” he claimed, “but I also swipe your card quite often so that helps,” He was leaning against the bar, his typical, sweet smirk gracing his lips.

“Well what’s yours?” you asked, trying not to sound too interested (even though you absolutely were).

“Little lady, you’ve been comin here for three months now,” he chided, jokingly. “It’s Clyde. Clyde Logan. Pleasure to uh, officially meet you.” He extended his hand for yours, and you obliged. He took your small hand in has massive one, warm and slightly calloused.

“Clyde Logan,” you repeated, “pleasure’s all mine”. The left strap of your dress fell after the handshake, your right hand quickly coming to it’s aid. Lauren coughed. “Yes yes, now that we’re all best friends...Clyde, do a shot with us?!”

Clyde looked around at the bar, noting how full it was. It was certainly a busier than normal night, loud chatter and clinking of glasses filling the room. He turned to face his stock. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?”

Lauren’s face lit up, “Ok ok, don’t make fun of me, but...I’ve never had a tequila shot. What’d’ya think?” She looked to you, and you faked confidence. “Sounds like tonight’s gonna get wild...Clyde, what do you think?”

Clyde pulled a bottle of tequila from the top shelf and you watched as his prosthetic arm worked in unison with his good one. “I think you ladies are trouble.” You melted into your palm a bit more as you watched him prepare your shot, looking up for a split second to meet your eyes.

Lauren began discussing plans for the upcoming long weekend, asking what you thought of this plan or that. You responded in yes, no, or hell no when Clyde set the shots in front of you both. Lauren became giddy, clapping her hands in excitement as she poured salt on the back of her hand. She picked up the lime, and you followed her and Clyde’s movements. Truth be told, you’d never done one of these either and were worried you’d gag on the shot (just like you did every other time).

Clyde lifted his shot in the air, “To...firsts”. He looked from Lauren to you as you said cheers, eyes lingering on your mouth a millisecond too long.

You shot back the silver tequila, placing the glass down and the lime to your mouth. It was salty, sour, smooth, and bitter. You were surprised at how well it went down, and for once, you didn’t embarrass yourself. Clyde placed his glass down and high-fived Lauren as she winced.

After a few seconds giggling, he grabbed up the materials from the bar. “You ladies needin’ anythin else?” You ordered your usual drink, Clyde smiling as you stated your order. He walked away to grab the ingredients for your drinks.

“.....WELL….” Lauren was smiling deviously. “Well what?” you replied.

A couple of hours flew by, the drinks burning slightly in your belly. Clyde stopped by the two of you as often as he could, indulging in your conversations excitedly. But he was busy. Your hair had curled from the humidity and the bar was settling a bit. Clyde returned with your drink, the tonic water fizzing happily around ice.

“Ugh, you are a godsend here in the town, Clyde Logan,” you breathed. It felt easier to say when your lips ran away from you, drink buzzing in your veins. You loved saying his name.

“Is that so, miss,” he said, dripping with honey. Lauren popped up to go the restroom, giving you a wink as she walked away. “Get the feelin she’s a handful,” he said, smirking. He leaned into the bar with his good hand. “How ya doin, darlin? Needin anythin?”

“Hmm,” you cooed, “a getaway, mostly. Somewhere with no computers so I don’t have to crunch numbers all day,” you sighed.

“I been meanin’ ta ask ya,” he started, “brother and I have been goin’ to this campin’ spot every year for the long weekend…” His cheeks were turning a little pink, his lips moving quickly and his eyes focusing on the grain in the wood of the bar. “It’s Jimmy, his friend, an me. Usually we pack enough food to feed three armies, endin up with too much left over. Would you an Lauren wanna go campin’?”

When he finished his sentence, he looked up at your face, eyes cautious.

“You wanna go camping with me?” you asked eagerly. Too eagerly?

He huffed a breath and smiled, wide and toothy. “Well, you’re both invited, but..o’course. I’d love to have you there. It could be the getaway that ya need.” He looked over to a couple of expectant customers at the bar. “One minute, sugar.” He walked away to help the other customers when Lauren returned.

“Lauren, we’re going camping,” you declared without context.

“Ew, y/n. Do you long for the company of mosquitos and bears?” she teased.

“Hmm, not mosquitos or bears. Clyde invited us.”

Her whole demeanor changed, mouth forming an oh-my-god in silence. She regained her composure as Clyde was walking past you two. She whispered,” he’s so into you.”

After a little while longer, you closed out your tab, leaving him a considerably large tip. As you stood, a little wobbly from the drink, you reached to grab your purse and Clyde jogged over to you.

“Y/n,” he called sweetly. You snapped up and smiled at him. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking to you at a bit of an angle. “I, well. I uh, I wanted to ask ya for your number so we can plan everythin’ together...the campin’ trip and whatnot.”

You smiled widely at him, tiny butterflies threatening to escape your ribcage. “Of course, Clyde, anything,” you breathed. He pulled a small notepad out of his chest pocket, along with a pen. Se put his hand in the back of his pocket as he watched you scrawl your name and number onto the sheet. You handed it back to him dutifully, beaming. “Can’t wait.”

CERTAINLY thinking of @callmehopeless as I’m writing this. Coy Clyde, embarrassed Clyde, camping Clyde, ANY CLYDE. I hope I can tie this into some fluffly, smutty, filthy beauty in classic Hope fashion. I just need to build up a lil more.....

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #drinks #West Virginia #bar #alcohol #friends #disease #job relocation #readerchan #fluffy #anticipation #pining #camping #houses #tequila #salt #lime

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kylosbrickhousebody · 3 years

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Ch 17 of Club Starkiller is up

Ch. 17 of Club Starkiller is up NSFW

“Rhea? Rhea.”

Large fingers snap in front of her face.

She feels like she’s being woken up out of a coma.

“mmm—?”

“There you are. It’s fine, she’s here—”

Master Ben shoos several bodies away.

“Shhh, you’re alright. Can you hear me?”

He unbuckles the gag, twirls his finger around the line of spit which connects to her mouth. He pulls it away, wipes his hand clean on a small towel.

“I—I—yeah?” She stares a little dumbly for a few long seconds. She blinks several times over.

“I pulled you out. You slipped a little deeper into subspace than I thought you would.”

She only stares.

I—what?

“Okay,” she murmurs, a little sleepily.

It’s all she can really manage. She’s barely aware of what’s going on.

Tired. She’s so tired.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a small frown carved between his eyebrows.

“I’m fine,” she yawns, like she isn’t even sure why he’d ask.

A warm hand pats her on the arm.

“Good. Okay, stay still. You’re weaker than you think, Rhea. Please stay still.”

She yawns again. “Mm. Okay.”

She feels straps being pulled free all down her body, their buckles opening to un-root her body.

“You’re okay?”

She glances over her shoulder, wipes a little at the spit on her chin.

“Stop asking me that,” She yawns again, unable to repress it. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Ben chuckles from somewhere behind her. “Good, she’s fine. The insolence is back already.”

Rhea smacks her lips a little drunkenly.

Two hands grasp her around the waist.

“Here,” he murmurs, breath hot on her ear. “Sit up.”

He pulls her hips up so that she rests on her hands and knees.

Her elbows shake violently; he holds her up.

A different set of hands closes around her shoulders. Together, the hands rotate her so that she sits on her butt.

Oww.

Major oww.

Ben bends and wraps one arm under her knees, the other behind her shoulders. He scoops her up, ignoring the sub’s objections, and jerks his head at Dan.

“Slap a ‘Needs Cleaning’ sign on that bench, will you? And put my bag in her locker. Have the nearest trainee bring me another blanket and some water.”

“Sure.”

It’s the only response he gets, and apparently the only thing he was waiting for.

He takes off towards a solitary grouping of chairs towards one corner of the barroom, tucked away from more social seating arrangements in the room. He turns and sits in a higher-backed leather chair, as oversized as the rest of them, pulling her with him.

She lets her head loll into his shoulder.

Warm.

“There you go,” he murmurs, patting her cheek. “Just rest.”

Austin speeds over a minute later; Ben finds himself, for once, grateful for the sub’s over-insistence on serving.

“Thanks,” he says simply, taking the warmed blanket from one sub to drape over the other.

She smacks her lips as he covers her with it.

Warm. Safe.

“You’re adorable.”

“Mmm.”

It barely registers with her, what he says. She simply cuddles, obeying the urge to press closer, to nuzzle her head beneath his neck.

“Drink this,” he murmurs to her, cracking the seal on a bottle of water.

Rhea refuses to lift her head.

“Not—” she hiccups “—not thirsty.”

“Yes, you are. Drink.”

Her brows pull together but she doesn’t fight him when he puts the mouth of the bottle to her lips. He tilts, slowly, so she can drink.

Soon the entire bottle is gone.

“Good girl. Much better.”

His hand rises, presses against her cheek, guides her back to rest on his shoulder.

Ben pulls the blanket up around his sub’s shoulders.

She shivers, then nuzzles.

Feels nice.

Someone drops by—the Dom exchanges a few words; she presses into the vibration of his vocal cords.

Her lips find a divot in his neck; she pulls away—only slightly, as he doesn’t let her pull back any further—until her eyes focus. She realizes its an extension of the scar that slashes diagonally down his face.

“Wesley. How are you?”

Rhea glances once, decides she isn’t interested. Her head feels heavy; she wants to lay it back down again. She finds her eyes drawn back to the scar, to the place it runs just parallel to a vein in his neck.

He got lucky: it barely missed his jugular.

She yawns, reaching to cover her mouth instinctually, and listens to the ever-stronger voice telling her to lay back down. She does, barely questioning, and soon finds herself idly mouthing over the little scar.

Leather squeaks from somewhere across from them as the other man sits down.

The Dom above her huffs, moves his hand so he pats the back of her head.

She thinks, vaguely, that maybe he’s a little bit ticklish.

“Hey, Ben. I’m good. How’re you?”

He nods his head at the sub in his arms. “Doing pretty well tonight.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Wesley smiles. “You two known each other a long time?”

Rhea tries to lift her head to get a better look at the man, tuning in and out of the conversation as her brain seems fit. Master Ben keeps her head down on his shoulder.

He makes a small noise that sounds like dissent in his chest.

“She only came to the club for the first time a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. It seemed like you two had a close connection.”

A few long seconds pass.

“Sometimes there’s just a connection. Or the appearance of one.”

Rhea doesn’t know whether she wants to argue that, hey, we don’t have a connection at all or whether she wants to lift her head and look insulted that maybe he’s denying one. She squints, a visual depiction of the confusion in her head.

She smacks her lips, stays silent instead.

Ben seems to notice her semi-conscious effort to stay quiet, patting the back of her head again.

“I don’t know how—how do I do that?”

“Flog?”

“No, like—you were in her head. Even though maybe, at the start, she didn’t want you to be. I don’t know how I can do that.”

Ben hums. “Takes lots of practice.”

“Should I—like, should I put in a request to scene with her?”

The Dom holding her chuckles a little. “Wes, I like you. With all due respect, though, this sub is more than you can bite off at the moment. She needs someone who can put her back in her place with extreme prejudice, all without bruising her feelings too badly. I’m not sure you’re there yet.”

The man across from him—Wes—nods. “I’m not.”

Master Ben sighs. “Meditate for a while on why you’re doing this; what you get out of it.”

There’s silence for a moment. “What do you—well, if I can be so personal—what do you get out of it? Examples of what you mean, I guess.”

“Well,” he starts. His chest rises and falls rhythmically underneath her; she can feel soft beats of his heart from across the expanse of his chest. “Mostly what everyone else does, I’d imagine: the feeling that I can take good care of someone smaller, more helpless. Knowing that someone is trusting me to fulfill risky desires safely. Things like that.”

Wes nods. “That makes sense. I want those things too.”

“So, then, go find one of the newer submissives: one that won’t look you in the eyes for too long. Take her out onto the equipment, dominate her. Take care of her after, hold her close. Make her kneel for you. Ask her questions, find out what she likes—truly likes. Don’t allow her to evade you. Start there.”

The younger Dom nods again. “Makes sense.”

“You would pair well with someone mild for now. Look at Sarah, maybe. You two seem compatible enough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s pretty. I’ll look into it.”

Ben hums; it vibrates against her cheek.

The two men talk for a while longer. Rhea zones out, though, as the conversation turns to topics more monotonous—random happenings on the base, the weather outside. Blah blah blah.

She cuddles, eyes half-lidded, for a long time—long enough that the atmosphere of the club changes. Somewhere, overhead, an entirely different genre of music begins to play.

When he speaks, she finds that her body jerks.

Mphf. Must’ve been asleep.

“Ayse?” A few gentle shakes. “Wake up.”

She curls up a little, then stretches out, lengthening her legs, curling her toes.

She rubs at her eyes.

Then, all at once, she tenses.

Stops.

Turns to look at him.

“Wha—?”

Master Ben cocks his head.

“Wha—what did you say?”

He lifts his eyebrows.

“I said,” he repeats slower, sounding patient, “’Rhea, wake up.’”

She stares for a long, long moment. Her heart thumps off-beat in her chest.

He looks back at her, looks directly in her eyes.

Nothing seems amiss.

She relaxes, rubs harder at her eyes, grasps once at her forehead. “Sorry. I—I must’ve been asleep.”

She scrunches up her eyes; she feels a little groggy.

“You were. Only lightly, though. Just started to drift.”

He reaches, picks up a cup resting on the adjacent end table. When he raises it to his lips, she smells the distinctive scent of whiskey.

Rhea pulls away a few inches such that she’s face-to-face with him.

She wrinkles her nose.

“Bourbon is the devil’s drink.”

Master Ben smirks at her. He takes a long, pointed sip.

“I suppose it fits me perfectly, then.”

She wants to smile—she manages to convert it into a smirk of her own—and wrinkles her nose again for added emphasis.

“You’re nasty.”

“You, too, judging by tonight.”

He reaches, tucks a strand of sweaty hair behind her ear.

She can’t help but blush even as she silently curses him.

“How are you feeling?”

He pulls the blanket down so it rests under her shoulders, pushes a warm mug into her hands.

She glances down.

Hot chocolate.

“Pretty much like you’d expect.”

She takes a sip. It’s good: rich cocoa. Probably Dutch process. Fancy stuff.

“Which is?” Rhea shoots a little glare at him. “I’m not sure I like that expression, submissive.”

She swallows.

“You know. Like I was made to come four times while being beaten to hell.”

Ben takes a sip of his own drink. “Is that so.”

“Yes.”

She looks away, corks her mouth tightly. Bastard.

“And?”

“And now I’m here, being restrained in a new and creative way. With a bribe of chocolate.”

The Dom snorts.

“I see my lessons didn’t fully take.”

She pulls her mouth to one side, then the other. She takes another sip so she doesn’t have to say anything.

It’s then, when she repositions herself slightly so straighten her back, that she notices.

“Hey—what? Where did my panties go?”

He raises his brows again; this time amusement glimmers in his eyes.

“I took them—”

“You what? You’re such a—”

“Woah.” Master Cullen stands there, five feet off to the side of them. He tilts his head to one side, also wearing a smirk.

Right bastards, the both of them.

“What exactly is going on here?”

“He’s graduated to taking trophies from me like some kind of serial killer.”

That makes Master Ben laugh—makes both Doms laugh, actually. She finds she has to suppress the urge to lose her anger and giggle with them, especially given the expression on Cullen’s face.

“Rhea, I’d be on your side if he’d yanked a molar out with pliers and shoved it in his pockets. But panties?”

“That’s stealing—”

“I’d be on your side if he was taking your HoloPad, okay? He’s not taking your HoloPad.”

She frowns bitterly.

“I like those panties.”

“Yeah,” Ben snipes, sipping another taste of whiskey, “me too.” He pauses. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them back after I’m finished with them.”

God, she wants to hit him.

Cullen chuckles again, wishes the Dom luck, and strides over to man his shift at the bar.

She sips more of her own drink, stiffer now. Fuming.

“Is money a problem for you, Rhea?”

She pulls back from him a little, looks at him in disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that how you talk to a Dominant.”

“Excuse me, SIR?”

He rolls his eyes. “Remind me next week to administer another spank or two.”

Shit.

“Now answer me.”

She looks down at her cup.

“No. It’s not.”

“Then why so jumpy? About this, about the toys. You flinched when I mentioned purchasing things for you. Physically flinched.”

It’s a fairer question than she wants to admit. She doesn’t want to do this psychoanalytic shit—not here, half-naked on a couch with somebody in a sex club.

“I don’t—” she blanches, stops that sentence dead in its tracks. “I don’t even know you.”

“No? I’ve had my fingers in your pussy twice now. Some might say we’re very well acquainted.”

Rhea swallows. “Well not me.”

He holds eye contact with her for a long time; she refuses to look away.

She isn’t fucking Sarah. She isn’t afraid of him.

“Okay then.”

It punches her a little. Rhea tries to ignore how she feels almost disappointed that he just accepts it—how that actually stings a little.

It shouldn’t.

It does.

They both move, simultaneously, to drink from their cups.

Shit.

#fanfic #ao3 #kylo ren #ben solo #fan fiction #fan fic #star wars #starwars #oc #readerchan #reader insert #original character

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slvttyplum · 18 days

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guess who i am!! (hint : i'm super cool n quirky n not like other girls)

readerchan

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jynzandtonic · 3 years

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listen i hate girls and lena dunham as much as the next bloke but adam and hannah needed to end up together .

Ya know, I respectfully disagree with you! I think that Adam and READER need to end up together hehe <3

#[chanting] readerchan! readerchan! readerchan!#adam sackler #cw: lena dunham

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itsleese · 3 years

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OH OH CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS!!!

OR IDIOTS TO LOVERS CAUSE HONESTLY WHATS THE DIFFERENCE

THERES NO DIFFERENCE I LOVE ITTTT

idiots to lovers: shouto x reader or bokuto x reader;

childhood friends to lovers: mattsun x reader or bakugo x reader

send me a fanfic trope!

#weese plays #ask games #these are all sexy ideas #IMAGINE BO I WANNA DIE HES SUCH A HIMBO #✨ childhood neighbour mattsun ✨#clueless shouto who needs a gf to get out of an arranged marriage and readerchan is HELPING HIM FIND ONE #bakugo’s mum and your mum are best friends and are always trying to set you up and you both DESPISE THE IDEA until they set you up with DIFF #ERENT PEOPLEEEEEEE #weese.asks

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shoutogepi · 4 years

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i have... so many ideas for fics... buckle up sluts, it’s over for y’all after the next two weeks wrap up my semester 😤🤪

#i be getting piped by college rn but soon ;-;#soon readerchan gonna be getting piped all over the place so be prepared #the storm be a brewin on the horizon #updates #rosie rambles

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starletcake · 5 years

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Seeing all this amazing fanart to @cocofinny 's fanfic "Panic Room" got me to read it and I can say I absolutely don't regret it!! I wasn't such a fan of the swapfell universe before but bOI I got sucked in! It's amazingly written and I just couldn't stop myself to create some art too, I hope you like it :3

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hrh-selene-r · 4 years

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Luck be a Lady (1/4)

Devil in a White Dress

The Logan boys have it in their heads a plan to rob the Charlotte Motor Speedway, but in order to do that they need someone with experience in breaking into a high tech vault. In their need, the Logan brothers visit non other than Joe Bang to recruit him into their heist. Problem is, they have to convince him; and knowin’ them Logan boys’ family curse, he ain’t gonna take no chances doing’ this without another professional. They need someone who can get into places and blend in, someone with experience who knows how to improvise and to tie up lose ends....Someone like you.

A short fic that started as a one shot and ended up being a short multi chapter fic, where our sweet boi Clyde, falls for a woman that’s more that what she seems. The question is, can he handle it?

Clyde x Reader

6.8k Words

Warnings: mentions of theft | Reader uses an alias

White

The room is an off-color white, not quite bright, as to somehow make it sterile, and cold. It’s the color of day-old snow on the pavement. Hell, even the chairs are a weird gray color, makin’ the room seem monochromatic. It’s all white, unsettling and uncomfortable.

He’s all too familiar with these walls and how isolating being here feels. Say what ya want, but six months under was enough to scare Clyde straight, and there ain’t no way he wants to come back here. But if he’s gonna do this, he’s gonna do it right. And doin’ it right meant getting someone who knows how to blow up a Bank Vault. Which, ironically, brings him here. The one place he doesn’t want to be in; with his brother, visiting none other than the famous Joe Bang.

Watching him eat a couple of hard-boiled eggs, and listenin’ to him talk about special salt for his blood pressure before finally getting to the part where his big brother Jimmy explains the plan to bust him outta jail in broad daylight, to blow up a bank vault, and get him back in jail before anyone notices.

At first, Joe can’t believe these two. How exactly are they gonna pull this off anyway? He chuckles at Jimmy Logan’s proposition, thinkin’ the idiots must have a screw loose.

“You Logans, must be as simpleminded as people say.” Joe said all condescendent like.

“They say that?!” the brothers ask in unison; surprised and offended as they quickly look at one another before turning back to a sniggering Joe Bang.

“Who?” Jimmy asks, not being able to let go of the slight tease.

In Joe’s mind, them Logan's plan was crazy, but it could work out. If the take’s good and the job seems doable, he might just be able to replace his stolen little nest egg, and then some. Amused, he decided it’s time to talk shop. “So what’s the take?”

“It’s bigger’n you can bury under an oak tree.” Jimmy assures him.

“And the split?” Joe asks back.

“Even Split.” Jimmy answers only to be rebutted immediately by Joe “No. No way.”

Why? Now Clyde’s Curious, he’s been lettin’ his brother do most o’ the talkin’, on account of it bein’ his crazy cauliflower plan, and all. “ Why not?” Clyde asks, confused; wantin’ to know why Joe didn’t think it was a fair deal.

Joe looks at him for a moment. “ I got a brother. I got two. I’d need ‘em involved to protect my interest.

“Fine.” Jimmy sighs, conceding to his demands, figurin’ that a smaller slice is better than no pie at all.

“Alright, What’s the location?” Joe asked them. Now he’s willing to play ball. They just gotta iron out how to actually make the plan work.

“Charlotte Motor Speedway.” Jimmy answered. Three words, no further explanation needed.

A pregnant pause fell on the conspiring men as Joe pursed his lips, giving out a deep sigh through his nose, and leaning back in his seat.

Thinking his pause meant hesitation, Clyde started to get anxious. They needed Joe Bang, if they’d have any shred of a chance at pullin’ this dang thing off. He leaned forward in his chair and asked Joe “ Don’t think you can do it?” Challenging him and hopin’ he just might take his bait.

“Now I didn’t say that, did I?” Joe answered him defensively, his tone a warning to Clyde not to underestimate him but also treating him with respect; despite just practically offending him by doubting his skills. He has a reputation to maintain, after all.

“Then what’s the problem, Joe Bang?” Jimmy asks, growing impatient, not getting what Joe’s huffing about now.

Joe breathes out a huff, not believing these two idiots and the fact that he has to explain everything.

“Before I take any job, I look at it the same way as it takes to make a bang: positive versus negative. Now you mix a little bit o’ this with a little bit a’ that and you get a reaction. A reaction is Power, but it’s moving fast and it’s moving away from ya and it keeps moving until it hits somethin’.”

“Like a vault wall.” Clyde interrupts.

“Sure, like a vault wall. So, you wanna make sure you always get more positive than negative, or else ya gotta get outta the way fast….Pullin’ off a job like this; I gotta weigh in the positive versus the negative….You Logans can just think of it as a plus or minus..” Joe explains to the brothers, leaning back into his chair.

“We get positive and negative.” Jimmy answers him, irritated with joe; feelin’ like he runnin’ them around in circles with the whole dang explanation.

“Okay, so it’s all cash, that’s a positive. But a place like the track?....It’s gonna have twenty times the amount o’ security of a regular bank, so that’s a negative, but there’ll be a whole mess o’ people walkin’ around there, and that’s a positive; it helps us blend in. There’ll be metal detectors and cameras, you know, recording every dang inch of the place. That’s a negative; we can’t bring anything through them gates. No explosives, no guns.” Joe thinks out loud listing off the various pros and cons of the job, mentally making a list to see what are the chances of them being able to pull off this job.

“No, we don’t. We don’t want usin’ any guns.” Jimmy tells Joe, a bit flabbergasted, that he’s even considering such a thing. Never in his life has he held a gun to threaten anybody. Hell, he don’t even know if he’s capable of shootin’ at somebody. No, no guns. They just complicate everything.

“Absolutely no guns.” Clyde agrees resolutely, shaking his head while looking at Joe seriously in the eyes. It’s not that he’s not familiar or inexperienced. The mas is an iraqui war vet, for cryin’ out loud. He did two goddamn tours over there; of course he knows how to use a gun and how to kill someone. But there’s a time and place for everything, and he won’t kill someone unnecessarily if he can avoid it. He’s a vet now, and that time in his life is over, he’s a bartender, and a small business owner now. He knows what it’s like to kill and he ain’t gonna put that burden on Jimmy. No way, no how. So absolutely no guns.

At the brothers’ refusal Joe leans back in his chair and huffs a sigh from his nostrils. They just don’t make it easy, do they? “Well, I guess for you Logans that’s a positive.”

“So you’ll do it?” Jimmy asks him hopefully; getting to the point of the conversation and the reason for their visit, wanting to get this over with; the more time spent here the more suspicious they look.

Joe on the other hand doesn’t hear him, he’s too busy still thinking about the job in his head. He has to make sure this’ll work out well, ‘cuz he ain’t doin’ nuthin’ to risk increasin’ his sentence, not when he is so close to freedom. So...he may have to outsource, bring out the big guns, so to speak. “The problem, gentlemen, is security. We’d need to find a way to get in.” He explained slowly, his voice deep in his chest and rumbly as he concentrated in thought.

“Access.” Clyde elaborates, glancin’ at Jimmy for a quick bit.

“Exactly!” Joe points his finger at Clyde, eyes wide as someone finally gets it.

Jimmy stares back and forth at both men. What was he painted onto the walls? “ I can get access, I HAVE access.” Jimmy argues, not to be considered useless.

“You were just fired.” Clyde reminds him, turning to look at him. “ ‘sides don’t ya’ think it’d look suspicious if ya’ll went around snoopin’ for ways to access the tunnels or if you’re caught by the cameras creepin’ around?” Clyde asked Jimmy as if it was the most obvious thing, further proving Joe’s point.

Joe leans back in his chair and raises his arms, palms up. “He’s right. You’re too close to it, someone in security or a worker might recognize ya. We need to avoid exposing you to the staff as much as possible, particularly the staff that works in the tunnels that can recognize your face.” Joe scratches his growing stubble and begins to mumble as he thought of a solution. Well, we got no choice. We’ll probably have a better off chance of pullin’ this off with ‘er anyway. “ So…...We’re gonna need someone for the job…..”

“Who do you reckon?” Jimmy asks him.

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

Mercer County Airport wasn’t crowded, it was just not that modern, you guess, at least not compared to other places you’ve been. But what else could you say about the small County airport? Hell, if it weren’t because you owed Joseph Bang a favor, you wouldn’t have been anywhere relatively near West Virginia, let alone walking into a parking lot of an airpot there.

But, Life is a funny thing, it can take you to a lot of places you’ve never expected to be. And right now, life took you through an airport parking lot and to an old 1969 red Dodge Charger that was calling your name; conveniently parked in the lot, along with other vintage vehicles in good condition.

It’s true that it’s extremely out of the ordinary to see these types of cars together, let alone in the same lot, but you supposed that they’re probably cars on route to go to the auto show that was advertised in one of the touristy pamphlets you saw while walking out of the airport. Something about NASCAR.

Must be your lucky day, because you can’t see a guard anywhere near here; in fact the whole lot seems to be devoid of people, and you’re not gonna look at gifted horsepower in the mouth.

You supposed with a smirk, that if you’re here for a job, might as well enjoy your time here. A bit of business with pleasure can’t go wrong. Still, Joe better thank you for the trouble that you’re going through, helping him out. The wind blew your hair over your dark cat-eye sunglasses while you try to subtly open the car door, being careful not to attract any unwanted attention. This job better be good, you inwardly complain as you open the bottom part of the dash, below the steering wheel, and start to hot wire the collectible car. You try to do it as quickly as you can, before the security guards can catch a whiff of you and send your cute little ass to jail before you can even hear Joe out.

That won’t do us any good. You wouldn’t be able to show off the cute little white dress you’re wearing, if you’re in a cell, after all.

Your giggles are drowned by the roar of the car’s ignition, as you start getting in, putting your travel bags in the passenger seat and adjusting your mirrors. Adios Mercer Airport is the last thing you think about before putting the car into gear and getting out of there.

Getting the window down, you can’t help the feeling crawling through your back and up your shoulders. It’s that feeling of freedom, of anything being possible as the wind blew threw you (H/C) hair, and the open road stretched before you as the car starts speeding.

Now, Joe wasn’t specific or detailed in his call. Actually, he was very vague. All he said was that he was calling up his favor and that he wanted me to be his brother Fish’s date for a fair that’s happening in town. Now, he wasn’t going out with Fish, that much she knew; if anything he was talking in code. The message was simple: “You owe me a favor and now I’m calling it. Come home, and look up my brothers, they’re the point of contact.” So she gave Fishy a call and set up a meeting at a bar called ‘Duct Tape’. So here she was, in West Virginia, going at 75 mph in a modified and revamped stolen Charger, with nothing but a gps set to take you to this so-called bar, and the open road.

You’ll have to be careful not to attract any unwanted attention, it can be a rural small town, but a cop, is a cop, is a cop. So you’ll have to stop by somewhere nearby to change the plates; exchange them with another car’s, and you better do it soon, you have an appointment to keep and an old friend to meet.

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The air outside was a bit humid and calm tonight as John Denver played from the jukebox, Earl was outside havin’ his usual smoke, the ceilin’ fans are blowin’ air down from above to the drinking patrons, the clinks of glasses and crashes of the billiards table mixed in with the music.

Clyde supposed he couldn’t complain, at least not for now, all he had to make sure was to get this heist over and done with, he thought as he cleaned up and rearranged some glasses in the bar. He was really just tryin’ to look busy, to not give away the fact that he was actually keepin’ an eye on Sam and Fish Bang while they played pool a few feet away. Now, he and his brother already talked to ‘em durin’ the county fair and got ‘em to agree to help ‘em out with the whole heist and all, so what were they doin’ here? ‘Cuz they weren’t exactly regular customers in his bar.

It wasn’t until Jimmy walked in that Clyde finally got his answer. The brothers were waitin’ on someone. A colleague of Joe’s, he said; they’re supposed to meet up in this here bar to negotiate with Jimmy, talk shop as it were. Now, Joe was very clear that he wasn’t gonna do any plan or heist without another professional, to help out. So it’s not like they have a choice in the matter. They needed this guy on their side.

This, of course, left him a bit apprehensive. After all, he’s seen what Joe’s brothers are like. What would a friend of Joe Bang’s even be like? This famous so-called swiss army man. He was probably another convict or a thief. Clyde could picture it now; he’d most likely be a thought biker type of some sort, or a bearded tattooed man with a tear tattooed on his face, maybe someone with a penchant for violence….And they were plannin’ to meet in his bar, during his shift.

Great.

That is the last thing that Clyde needs in his bar. Plus, won’t it look suspicious if they’re seen associatin’ in an almost conspiratorial manner? The cops would find out. I’d be just his luck too if trouble comes his way because of this. He’s waitin’, afraid it’ll happen too.

The Logan Family Curse

He’s been hollerin’ in both Jimmy’s and Mellie’s ears about this, comin’ up on years now, but it’s just not goddang normal. Hell, he never takes his damn horseshoe ring off, just in case. Now, Clyde hasn’t always believed in the so-called family curse; he didn’t believe it in high school and he didn’t believe it when he did two tours in Iraq (otherwise he probably wouldn't ‘ve done them in the first place).

But ever since the freak landmine accident that cost him his hand an’ part of his forearm, he couldn’t stop thinking that this kind of stuff just don’t happen to normal folk. So he started digging up info about his other family members, and bit by bit he started to put the pieces of this whole thing together. The proof that not only does he have the Logan curse on his head, but that it exists. Ever since then, he’s been wearin’ the same lucky horseshoe ring, thinking it’d be best to ward off any type of bad luck an’ evil out there as much as he can.

It’s just not smart to tempt the devil, and he’ll avoid it where he can.

Clyde is taken off his internal reverie as Sam approaches him at the bar. “Another round, my good man.” He tells Clyde. He, of course, obliges and hands Sam two bottles of Coors, uncapped.

Meanwhile, Jimmy sat in his usual bar stool, drinking his beer, talkin’ to Clyde while he worked the bar; re-filling drinks and cleanin’.

“You got everythin’ planned?” Clyde asks Jimmy

“Just about. Just ironin’ out some things.” He answered confidently even though Jimmy still hasn’t finished planning squat. But he can’t let Clyde know, he’d panic, quietly, but he would still panic.

“Welp, you better do it fast, got the auto show comin’?” Clyde reminds him earnestly.

As Clyde starts to put some glasses away on the high shelf, busying himself with never-ending work, so much so that he doesn't notice that the front door opens and in walks a woman.

“Be right with ya.” He said after he heard one of the bar stools near Jimmy scrape on the wooden floors.

Now, you found it hilarious that the bar was called the Duck Tape...you spent all this time thinking it was weird to name a bar “Duct Tape” but here you stand at the front door; corrected, ‘cause it could, in fact get weirder. You, of course, pay no mind to the ambience or the music hanging in the air once you enter the bar. You were here to meet with Fish and Sam; strictly business, or at least that’s what you thought while looking around the bar.

There were a few patrons, a few people sat in the u-shaped bar, while the bartender looked like he’s doing something on the shelves above it. You decide to not be a bother while he’s up on his step ladder and you just quietly walk over to the bar, sitting two seats away from another patron. He’s young looking, around his mid-thirties with short brown hair, and a goatee and the beginnings of a beard. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, but under it you can see that he was about fit, or fit enough. Or at least, that’s what you could gather since he was actually getting up, probably to go to the bathroom or something. He was good looking though, even if he had a bit of a limp, you noticed as you gave him a passing smile, doing your best to be friendly to the locals.

It’s seemed to be a quiet night all around. To the right there were some men drinking together, probably buddies; you saw Fish and Sam were already here, playing pool on a table nearby, probably waiting for you to get here. All in all, you really didn’t seem to miss anything going on.

That is until you turned your focus to the bar, and said bartender working in front of you. How oblivious did you have to be to not notice this man? You asked yourself as you saw that the bartender there wasn’t using a step ladder at all.

Well, Hello.

He was just this tall mountain of a man, with black shoulder length hair. His back was towards you, so you couldn’t see much, but what you could see, you enjoyed. His body was wrapped up in a cotton button-down short sleeved shirt, and those dark wash jeans that gave you a nice view of a tight ass that you can stare at all day if he lets you (you wouldn’t mind grabbing it either).

Through his shirt you could see his shoulder blades through his back; flexing and moving as he finished placing the glasses high up, giving the rippling view and showing that he may be wide, but his waist was defined. So he was likely well built. A gym freak, health nut maybe? No, his waist would be more defined if he was, so would his muscles. His form suggests that his muscles are built to be strong, not for show.

Maybe this mountain man chops wood. All in all you liked the view, and you always did have a thing for tall men (Everything just tended to be more proportional). So really, you wouldn’t mind spending some time in the bar, looking at him as he worked, getting a drink to relax, and enjoy the local sights before having to deal with Fish.

Uuuugh!

Why does this have to happen when you're here because of a Job? You’d rather just not deal with them at all if you could. Don’t take it the wrong way, the Bang Brothers aren’t bad people, per se. In fact you don’t mind Fish at all, and they’re good hearted boys; they mean well, but it’s obvious to any adult equipped with a brain that the smarts in the family went to Joe. The man’s a chemist after all, and Fish and Sam...well, they mean well, and Fish is okay. With a makeover he could be cute. But it’s not a mystery why he’s not a hit with the ladies. Or why Misty had an affair behind his back.

You rearrange your posture in your seat, twisting around over to the billiard’s table, just to make sure that both Sam and Fishy were still there.

“What do you like?” Clyde asks in a friendly way before finally turning around, and just like that…...It’s as if life punched him stupid in the face and left his vision all blurry like. It was as if for an instant time stopped and he was left still, dumb and frozen, just staring at you. It’s a good thing you were looking over at the billiards table because otherwise, he’d looked like a creep.

Now, to be fair, Clyde’s seen all types of folks come ‘n go around these parts, especially when you work at a bar. But Clyde could swear that he’s never seen someone quite like you. In your short white cotton dress, cinched at the wait with a thin brown belt with cute little brown cowboy boots; and your hair, loose in the most beautiful shade of (H/C) he’d ever seen. Now this isn’t enough to go by, and it’s true. It wasn’t until you turned your face to answer him that he finally managed to see you, that left Clyde truly entranced. Your beautiful (E/C) eyes, your hair framing your face beautifully had him enchanted; but the most beautiful part, in his opinion, was that bright smile that you gave him. It was one of those smiles that pulled up at your cheeks and made your nose scrunch a bit and maybe he was crazy but it lit up the whole goddamn bar.

Clyde doesn’t know if it’s because it’s been a while since he was with a woman, but goddamn, it was like you came right out of a dream; an angel with a white dress and everythin’.

All in all, he was so dumbstruck in awe, that he didn’t notice that you sweetly gave him your order. It was as if for the briefest of seconds he felt like he was underwater.

Snap out of IT!!!

Clyde clears his throat blinking quickly to get him out of his stupor. “I’m sorry?” he asked you as if he’s trying to make sure he got your order right.

“Can I have a vodka with Orange Juice, please?” you ask him again sweetly, not minding at all that you had to repeat your order.

“Uh, yeah. Comin’ right up.” He said politely, trying to give you a good impression, but also being professional. The last thing a lady like you needed was a guy harassin’ her and bein’ inappropriate with her. It didn’t help the wait that you were looking at him, all sweet-like, like ya had a secret that he didn’t know.

And maybe you did; or maybe you were just checking him out as he showed off, making your drink, with added flair that belonged in a more modern bar, not the duck tape. Still, you were grateful for the opportunity to watch him work.

Of course, the pleasure was all yours. Watching him closely, enjoying the show he put on for you.

The man himself was six feet tall, maybe six foot two, but his body was well built all around from what you could see. His hair was dark, wavy and gorgeous....how is that even fair? You don’t know, but it does complement his goatee and frame his face, accenting his big nose and his full, pouty lips. It gives him this rugged, country boy look. His eyes are brown and look soulful; gentle, offsetting his almost intimidating physique.

You notice that he’s wearing a black t-shirt under his navy-blue button down as he moves through the bar and even flips the shaker to efficiently mix the drink over ice, even though it’s not typically mixed, not knowing that he did it was to cool your drink as a special treat for the lady in white.

He tapped the glass connected to the shaker and poured the mixture in a clean high-ball glass sitting on a napkin, and delicately handed it over to you. You took the opportunity and deliberately brushed your fingers against his as you smiled at him, noting his lucky horse shoe ring sitting in his fourth finger. What a peculiar thing to wear you mused as you do a quick study in your head; nearly hitting yourself for not noticing earlier the most obvious thing about him until he was right in front of you, fixing your drink. An amputee bartender...that’s a first. You start to wonder how was it that he lost it. maybe a car crash? Some type of accident most definitely. Either way, this wasn't something that you saw everyday.

“Thank you.” You tell him kindly, just being polite.

“Ya welcome, miss.” He replies leaving the statement in the air. You look around a bit dramatically and look back at the bartender.

He’s polite and his voice. Hmm!

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like rural sex on a stick, but you’re starting to want t o know more about him. And being the weirdo that you are, you start analyzing him from top to bottom; you can’t help it, you were just too curious about this sexy mystery man. Too bad I can’t tell if he’s married you think as you start to really look at him, seeing what you could find out.

Male, late twenties to early thirties, over six feet, caucasian, dark hair, well built and athletic, soft spoken, polite, but articulated. A bit shy, definitely not a social butterfly, from what I can see. Body language and tone suggests a bit of an inferiority complex and lack of confidence despite his height, meaning that he’s self conscious. Maybe he was picked on for it. His build suggests he was maybe an athlete in high school or college, perhaps military training. That could explain the lost arm, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

Your thought process makes you look at him sideways, supporting your head’s weight in your left hand as he cleans in front of you while you contemplate his life story. You wanted him to talk to you, you wanted him to make the first move; for him to give you a way to talk to him. But from the looks of it, you're gonna have to make the first move. Luck favors the bold, you remind yourself before taking a deep breath and look at his face.

“Is the bar always this busy?” You teased at him, a smirk on your lips as you're trying to make conversation. The brothers are still playing pool, so you have time. Why bother them and interrupt their game when you can play one of your own right here? And with far better company at that.

Clyde doesn’t miss a beat, hearing the small tease in your tone, still not really believing that you’re talkin’ to him. “Well, you’re very lucky. Bar’s not usually full until the weekend, so you can get my attention easily.” He replies teasing you right back with a small innuendo as he met your smirk with one of his own.

“Really? Lucky me then. And what’s your name?….You know, in case I need to catch your attention. Or are you just ‘bartender’?” You fire right back. Okay, so the boy knows how to flirt a bit, this is promising, you thought as you played innocent with him, leaning back a bit and puffing out your chest and smiling, which if the lighting isn’t tricking you, causes him to blush a bit, on his cheeks, right below those cute little eyes.

“Name’s Clyde. At your service, Miss....” His answer held the promise of servicing more than a cocktail, or at least you hoped it did.

“Vivienne. The name is Vivienne.” You introduce yourself, moving your head slightly, flipping a bit of our hair as you do so, showing more of your angelic face to Clyde, and he can’t help but give a small smile and the sound of your name. Vivienne, Vivienne Clyde repeats your name, trying it out in his head, almost as if to see if it fit with what he saw in front of him. “Or ya’ll can call me Vivi for short, everybody does.” She smiled at him, a southern twang in your voice and the way you speak. It’s not from around these parts that’s for sure. Maybe it’s a different part or state. Heaven knows Clyde isn’t the most traveled fella, and even the parts where he’s travelled too ain’t that exotic.

Vivi takes a swig at her drink, gesturing to the ring on his right hand. “Are you superstitious? Or are you just always lucky?”

Clyde takes a look at his ring before smiling, slightly amused at the thought of Clyde Logan, of all people, being lucky at all. “A bit superstitious. Rather not tempt the devil y’know.” He answers lightheartedly, not wanting to elaborate on how was it that the Logan Curse made him believe in it. At least for right now, he just counts himself lucky to get you interested in him at all, don’t get him wrong, but Clyde isn’t an optimistic man; he can’t afford to be, not with this curse over his head. Knowing his luck, you’ll get bored of him quickly and move on to another fella. But he might as well enjoy this while it lasts. “You?”

“A bit, but who isn’t really? I mean, it never hurts to throw a bit of salt over your shoulder, right?” You answer with a smile, your right eyebrow raising as you did so with a little playful shrug, causing his smirk to develop into a full smile, making his cheeks pull up a bit and his eyes shine at your lighthearted demeanor. You’re guessing that it’s not easy or common to break him and get a smile out of his somber, pouty expression, given how he seems to hold himself so seriously; so you considered this a little victory. Clyde just thought of it as part of your charm.

And just like that he was hooked.

When you were done with your first drink, you decided to take it up a notch. Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe it was your own bravery, either way you end up inviting him to drink with you, appealing to his good nature.

“It’s my first time in West Virginia, and it’s bad luck to drink alone.” you say, pouting your lips at him.

“Well what about that first one?” he counters.

“That one doesn’t count. And if it does, then I need to do something about it. C’mon, have a drink with me. That way you can help me negate the bad luck.” You told him. At first he didn’t think it right, him bein’ working an’ all, but how could he say no to you? How could he say no to those captivating eyes and those tempting lips?

So Clyde agreed, saying that he can’t leave a lady like you with bad luck in all good conscience, and deftly took two shot glasses down from the shelf and filled each of them with Bourbon Whiskey.

Taking the shot, you smelled it and looked at him funny. “Bourbon?” You asked him, to which he nodded in response. “It’s the good kind, top shelf, to commemorate your first time drinkin’ in West Virginia, on the House.”

“Well then, cheers. To good luck and good health.” you say raising your glass to meet his with a small clink before downing the contents in two quick swigs; the liquid burning your throat and the back of your mouth as you shook your head blinking as you did so.

“You good?” He asked smiling, this time his smile showed you a glimpse of his teeth. You nodded vigorously as you got ready for another round.

Just two seats away, Jimmy saw the exchange and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This lady was downright flirtin’ with his little brother, not in an overtly sexual way, but in a sweet teasing way. And what’s even more shocking; Clyde is flirtin’ right back. Well, his version of flirtin’, which isn’t to say much, cause his brother tended to be of a more serious type.

Now, he didn’t recognize you, or at least he can’t remember you from anywhere, and be that as it may, Boone County ain’t that big. People tended to know everybody in town. So, you’re either a relative of someone or you’re from out of town, maybe even a city girl by the looks o’ your hair. He ain’t ever seen someone have hair that pretty; like them models you see in magazines or movies. But still, this is a big thing, so he decides to not interrupt, and let his brother enjoy her company while he enjoys his beer.

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You spent the better part of the next two hours with him, talking, drinking and joking around. Honestly, you had even forgotten about Sam and Fish, and the whole reason why you were in the bar in the first place, preferring to spend your time like this than to deal with them.

Unfortunately your good time’s cut short as Sam Bang approaches the bar to order another beer and ends up looking in your direction when he heard you talking to Clyde. “Vivi?” He asked, turning away from the bar in your direction. Effectively ending your moment with the handsome man.

Both you and Clyde turn in Sam’s direction, you sigh loudly from your nostrils as you regard his appearance. “Hi Sam, how’s it going?” you ask him, causing Clyde’s once sunny mood to darken in shock as he looks back and forth between you and Sam; asking himself just how did you know him.

Sam turns around towards the billiards table and shouts. “Hey yo Fish! Vivi’s here!” getting his brother’s attention.

Upon hearing his brother Fish walks over to see what the commotion is about. “What?...Hey Vivi? When did you get here?” he asked and then gave you a small kiss in the cheek showing how familiar you were. You reciprocate the kiss with a polite smile before answering. “Oh just a while ago. I decided to get a drink while you boys finished your game.”

Okay, what the hell is goin’ on? Clyde thought jealously, watching with suspicious eyes as Fish’s arm wrapped around your waist as he gave you a kiss on yer cheek. He needed someone to explain this ‘cuz he couldn’t understand what was happenin’. One minute, yer talkin’ to him, flirtin’ all nice like, and now your talkin’ to Sam and Fish Bang like ya’ll good friends or somethin’. Was he in like a Twilight Zone? All he could do is pray that you weren’t related to them or that you were Fish’s girlfriend. Anything but that.

Likewise, Jimmy was also taken aback by the apparent run-in between you and the brothers, but he figures that maybe ya’ll are relatives, ‘cause there is no way in hell that one of them is in a relationship with someone like you.

Not able to take it anymore, Clyde addresses the group. “You know each other?!” he asks cautiously, his tone sounding a little louder than necessary, his eyes darting between Sam, Fish and you.

“Well, yeah.” Sam is the first to answer, lookin’ confused to ‘ve been asked that in the first place. “We’ve been waitin’ o her, on account of her bein’ our swiss army lady and all.”

“Wait, what?” Jimmy chimes in two seats away, giving away the fact that he was actually eavesdropping on their conversation.

“What?” Clyde equally in shock makes the same question, not processing what Sam said just now.

“Yea.” Sam answered simply.

Fish hits Sam’s arm, catching his brother’s attention. “Sam c’mon, man. It’s 2017. Weeee’re what?” he said slowly, hoping that Sam will get the point that he’s trying to get across to him. Sam, being Sam, just shrugs; not getting the point that Fish is getting at, causin’ Fish to let out an exasperated breath. “We’re woke, man. It’s Swiss Army MAN.” Fish said as if it was the most obvious thing, clearly embarrassed at his brother’s faux pas.

Understanding the situation as an embarrassment, Sam’s lips formed a small o as he offered an apology towards you. “Oh. I aporogize Vivi, on account of my political correctness.” which you just shrug off, not caring about the insignificant point enough to bother to correct him.

What you did care about was the fact that they were plain out in the open talking about the job in front of Clyde and the bar patrons, as if it was the most casual thing. Besides, What did they mean by Swiss army man? She was definitely out of this internal joke by the looks of it.

“Swiss army man?” You asked, trying to get it but failing miserably.

Sam just nodded and answered your question with a simple “Yeah.” as if that cleared things up for you.

Meanwhile the Logan brother’s can’t believe what’s happenin’ in front of their very eyes.

You didn’t seem like the type that can help ‘em out. Hell, you seemed like one o’ them instagram girl with how pretty you look, not a thief or professional criminal! Jimmy just couldn’t wrap around in his mind just how you, pretty, innocent and girly-lookin’ You could help ‘em; just what did you know?

Clyde, like his brother, was equally taken aback by this whole thing. Just a short while ago, he’d been talkin’ to her for two hours; drinkin’ and flirtin’ somethin’ nice. It seemed like she liked him, and Clyde most definitely liked her. Everything about her was beautiful and sweet. AND it turns out that she’s a criminal. Was she a thief? Was she a killer? He just can’t believe it, and just his luck too. Did she already know who he was? She was just jerkin’ his chain, flirtin’ with him to pass the time? From the looks of it, you were this sweet southern girl, without a bad thought in your mind; not a professional criminal. (Not that he had any ground on to judge you) He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

And apparently, neither could Jimmy. Getting up from his chair, he approached the three o’ them pointing a finger directly at you.

“You’re Joe Bang’s so-called ‘colleague’? The one he called?” Jimmy asked incredulously .

“Hi. I’m Vivienne, but everybody calls me Vivi.” you introduce yourself to Jimmy with a friendly smile pullin’ at your cheeks. “ And you are? How do you know Joe Bang called me?”

“This here’s Jimmy. This thing is his whole Idea.” Fish takes the opportunity to explain to you.

Jimmy scoffs while shakin’ his head, not believing this. I guess looks’re deceiving, huh. He thinks to himself in his head as he reaches out to offer you his hand to shake it.

“Jimmy Logan. That bartender you were talkin’ to is my brother Clyde.” Jimmy introduces himself, his tone is defensive, willing to protect his little brother from ‘er. He figures that if you’re a friend o’ Joe Bang, he’d have to be careful with you.

You caught his tone and the sudden tension comin’ from both brothers, but you decided to play it off, used to people underestimating and being uncomfortable with you “Nice ta’ meet ya Jimmy”. You greeted him as you were friendly and shook his hand. You were hoping that Mr. Clyde “the Bartender” Logan would’ve been a good time, after all, your chemistry was so good; and then fate kicks you in the butt, making him find out who you were.

“Likewise.” Jimmy replied politely.

You put your right hand on your cocked hip. “So...Mr. Logan, what’s the job?”

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Hi guys!! I hoped you liked the first chapter. Fist of all let me just say that I apologise for the word count on this first chapter. I usually write about 3k words, maybe 4, but I wanted to establish the tone of the scenes and and ended up writing a lot.

Like it says in the summary this started out as a one shot but then turned into a short fic, which incidentally lets me add more details. Like my other fics; I don’t have a set word count. I got with the flow of the prose until i feel it’s enough.

So let me know what you think, i’d love feedback.

all my love

Selen R :)

Taglists are for friends (let me know you’d like to be added)

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