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tigerseye46 · 3 years

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List of Peachpigshipping headcanons

Feel free to send or share with me some of your own!

For some reason, I can rarely see Wukong doing the dishes and Pigsy makes fun of him for it, both out of amusement and annoyance. Examples: “I can’t even convince my boyfriend/husband to do the dishes, what makes you think I can convince him to do [x]?” “Oh my gods you did the dishes, what did you do?” “Wow, you must really love me for once.”

I picture them being that couple that shows each other up, Wukong more than Pigsy because the pig is more easily flustered with public acts of affection. Wukong purposefully does sappy stuff to make him as flustered as possible. Pigsy secretly likes it but will deny it like crazy.

Like most of the fandom, I picture them being on the outs at the beginning but they get really soft around each other when they’re actually a couple. They call the other sweet nicknames since Wukong already has a habit of calling people nicknames in canon.

They give off vibes of a couple that act like they’re better than other couples and get completely smug. They are the best couple and they’ll fight whoever says otherwise.

Wukong insists Pigsy stay in bed with him and will try to convince him in any way possible.

If Pigsy is yelling at Wukong for something in a one-sided argument, Wukong’s reaction is to snark at him and roll his eyes or if Pigsy does something like cup his face during it, the king stares at him with loving eyes and gets lost in those blue orbs which frustrates Pigsy because the king should really be paying attention, he’s also trying not to blush under his gaze.

If they’re both arguing, they can argue for hours since they’re stubborn until they storm off to cool down or the person who’s at fault, if anyone is at fault, apologizes. Or they both realize how stupid they’re being. Once they storm off, they’re tempted to go back to each other which they either do so or hold back and become a little melancholic after that.

Favorite place to kiss besides each other’s lips: For Pigsy, it’s Wukong’s cheek and forehead. For Wukong, it’s Pigsy’s thighs/legs and stomach.

Pigsy likes to comb through the king’s fur, to the monkey, his partner’s hands feel like magic and it takes all his willpower to not fall asleep.

Pigsy constantly makes sure Wukong is eating properly since the king has a habit of eating his own hair along with other things like peaches that Pigsy argues doesn’t count as a full meal.

They have to be touching each other in some way, shape or form. Wukong usually just wraps a tail around Pigsy’s waist if their hands are full or they’re trying to be subtle. I thought about how they wouldn’t do this if Pigsy was cooking, but that’s completely wrong, Wukong would still bother Pigsy. He would plaster himself to Pigsy’s back, despite his partner’s protest. The regulars think it’s cute. “Is that your boyfriend?” “Unfortunately.” “I wish my partner was as affectionate as that.” “No… no, ya don’t.” (Almost forgot to add this one thing. Someone: *gestures to Pigsy who has Wukong’s face buried against his back* What have you got there? Pigsy: *holding a bowl of noodles* Noodles.)

They like to tease and joke with each other, their jabs are always filled with some love behind it.

Wukong is more traditional when it comes to courtship stuff while Pigsy is okay with it and goes with what Wukong wants.

Courtship bracelets:

-Wukong: A circular silver bracelet with a pink heart gem in the middle, it is surrounded by patterns of leaves. engraving on the inside reads “My peach”

-Pigsy: A circular gold bracelet with two gems on it. One is red in an antique cushion shape while the other is orange and circular. It has ovals patterns around it. Engraving on the inside reads “My fellow king (my equal).” I don’t see Pigsy as the type to wear big fancy jewelry, maybe usually just some earrings but he wears the bracelet anyway.

They stay more at Pigsy’s apartment than Wukong’s mountain since it’s a lot of effort for Pigsy to travel back and forth for work even with Wukong’s cloud.

They have moments where they stand there, completely still and Wukong has his arms wrapped around the pig, he rests his chin on top of his head while Pigsy has his face buried in his partner’s chest, and both just breathe in each other’s scent.

Pigsy oinks when he laughs sometimes, he gets embarrassed about it but Wukong thinks it the cutest thing in the world.

The monkeys like Pigsy despite his gruff nature, they really like his cooking and are happy that their king found someone.

Picture Wukong and Pigsy are sitting on the cloud, watching the sunset and Wukong has a tail around Pigsy’s waist while Pigsy clings to Wukong’s sleeves and leans his head on his shoulder (a friend came up with this one!).

When they’re on the couch, Wukong rests his head on his partner’s stomach and will look up with love and adoration present on his face, if Pigsy is checking his phone or reading, he’ll take quick glances at Wukong, only to find the monkey staring at him. “Why are ya starin’?” “You’re gorgeous.” “... Shad-shaddup.”

If Macaque is around, Pigsy sometimes gets jealous because he and the king have history that he feels he’ll never have with Wukong even though Pigsy has history with Wukong that he doesn’t remember *coughs* *coughs*.

I would think that Wukong does have some cooking ability (immortals get bored too, you know) and he’ll cook for Pigsy and the pig adores it, although he will take the time to criticize bits of it while simultaneously loving it.

Wukong absolutely loves when Pigsy rambles on about his family, the way the pig lights up when he rambles makes Wukong’s heart beat wildly against his chest.

In turn, Pigsy loves it when the king goes on about the journey even though he’s heard the stories before. It gets better when the king shares details never mentioned, because it feels like Wukong trusts him enough to share something so important, no matter how small it is and for some reason, it feels familiar to him like he was around for the Journey. *coughs*

“at some point while depowered Pigsy had carried Wukong for miscellaneous 'take care of yourself idiot' reasons, and now nothing makes Wukong flustered quicker than Pigsy princess carrying him. Also there's probably a "my hero~♡" joke in there somewhere” Princess Carry Headcanon from an anon

“Heres another PeachPig headcannon for u soul: that theory/speculation about Wukong shapeshifting himself taller and is in fact still the shortest one here? Well, every so often, if Pigsy's clearly had a rough day, Wukong will just... take on his actual size for cuddling purpouses. Its super embarrassing for wukong bc hes sensitive about his height but Pigsy seems to love both not being the short one and having his partner the size of one of those beeg plushies thats perfect cuddling size. So its whatever” Wukong shapeshifting when Pigsy has a rough day (given by anon + a small fic)

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid wukong #pigsy #peachpigshipping #peachpig #headcanon #I got a huge dose of serotonin then wrote this list #feel free to send your own!#I would love to talk about this ship more since I’m the one making a lot of content for it for now #if anyone wants to send me what they make for this ship or any other ships I’ll definitely read it #implied reincarnation #peachbunshipping

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drangues · 3 years

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Well, I appreciate you not finding me annoying- I just know that dealing with someone with anxiety can be. A Lot. And of course I have, like, ADD on top of that, and a general tendency to overshare because it’s hard for me to tell what the divider is between too much and not enough? Also there an Actual SCP that lets you square up with mental and physical illnesses and disorders alike, it’s great. (Nyanon, 1/10)

Anyways, I’m sorry people have said that about some of your favorites, but I’m glad you like them, anyways! It’s nice to like stuff. That aside, Kyouka just vibing up until she get the Urge to Go is. Hilarious, and would definitely happen. Also you’re right, Atsushi definitely collects old and vintage stuff and tries to restore it a bit and you should say it. Anyways, poor Atsushi is just left struggling to keep up with his adopted baby sis because how did we get here? (Nyanon, 2/10)

Kyouka what??? Kyouka please he is Confused (even though he definitely supports her traditions, like you said- Our boy is just wondered why it came out of nowhere). And those four sound like a good choice for family friends! I feel like Kyouka would get. The ODDEST assortment of gifts from them- Like, Yosano gives her an Entire Emergency Kit and Kouyou just gives her Swords and also pretty clothes. (Nyanon, 3/10)

Of course, Fukuzawa gives her toys for the local strays and some pocket money if she needs it, and Lucy probably gives her a doll or something. Atsushi, of course, fusses over making sure she has Everything, including books, bedding, her broom, and Kyouka did you pack all of your clothes??? And of course, he probably passes her Byakko’s special basket and bed (because that would be One Spoiled Cat) while in tears, like you said, because he doesn’t want her to be alone. (Nyanon, 4/10)

AND DONT WORRY KENJI IS DEFINITELY THE BOY SHE MEETS, I ALSO SHIP IT, THEYRE ADORABLE AND I LOVE THEM. He chatters to her about his life on the farm and how much more busy the city is, and they bond over being in a new place on their own. Poor Atsushi can’t catch a break, and he probably freaks out everyone else by running away. Like, what the fuck are they gonna tell Kyouka when she gets back??? Atsushi where did you go? (Nyanon, 5/10)

Meanwhile Atsushi is frantically trying to Not Be Cursed and it is. A work in progress. It’d be much easier if the wizard he found actually helped instead of being a trolling bastard. Said wizard and his minions (friends) are all taken with the weird cursed maybe-not-an-old-man who’s now their house keeper? Albeit in different ways, of course, but it’s hard not to be when he’s a sweetheart, of a bit anxious. Dazai just wants to know how the fuck he gets Chuuya to listen to him. (Nyanon, 6/10)

Also please consider: Atsushi having black hair at the start, but it ends up a permanent silver with a black streak by the end, because he’s starting to embrace himself. Dazai falling farther and farther in love as the story goes on and not even realizing it, and it’s totally normal to pet someone’s hair and compliment them so much, shut UP Chuuya, you’re a sentient ball a gas, what do you know- Anyways yes I’m taken with this AU, no I don’t mind your tangent. (Nyanon, 7/10)

And it’s just like [Dazai: I’m sorry like you ignore your what now??? // Atsushi: // Dazai: Atsushi-kun please answer me- ] It’d be so chaotic it’s great. Anyways, yeah I could definitely see him not really,, Registering? That everything he once had to do isn’t necessary anymore- It’d definitely be hard to break the habit, given how long it was literally beaten into him. It’s probably the same way when it comes to like, eating and stuff? Given his experiences. (Nyanon, 8/10)

Then he realizes halfway through the day that he can, in fact, eat, and he isn’t used to that? Please help him. But all of that definitely would make him more eager to try new things, once he realized he could! He’ll try everything with anyone who’s willing. Like, he’ll do flower pressing with Kunikida (who thinks they make good bookmarks), or he’ll try collecting things with Dazai (who collects foreign coins, though Atsushi finds that he favors bottle caps). You know what I mean? (Nyanon, 9/10)

But anyways, another Scenario Concept: Please imagine Dazai and Atsushi taking naps together. Like, Atsushi curls up on Dazai’s chest and Will Not Move, and no one has the heart to move him, anyways. Dazai buries his face in Atsushi’s lap and let’s himself fall asleep while Atsushi plays with his hair. I don’t know, I’m tired and can’t think of much right now. I just want fluff. (Nyanon, 10/10)

DW!!! I ALSO SUCK AT KNOWING WHATS OVERSHARING OR NOT AND I LOVE IT WHEN SOMEONES VERY OPEN AND RAMBLES ON A LOT BECAUSE ONE OF MY BIGGEST FEAR IS AWKWARD SILENCES AND DRY CONVOS SO I LOVE THOSE TYPE OF PEOPLE CAUSE THEY ALSO MAKE ME TALK BETTER AND WE JUST HAVE A BETTER CONVO OVERALL

i loVE THEM GIVING HER THE ODDEST GIFTS I BET FUKUZAWA IS THE ONLY ACTUAL NORMAL ONE WHO GIVES HER NORMAL GIFTS meanwhile kunikida (did i say he would be a friend as well??) would give her the C UT E S T stationary items for her studies.

and chuuya’s curse would definitely be reduced to a flame!! and akutagawas curse,,,hmm,,,maybe that he has poor health??idk if that makes sense- BUT. PLS. I CAME UP WITH A CHUUAKU AU WHERE THEY MANAGE TO FALL IN LOVE AND EVERY NIGHT AKUTAGAWA IS HUDDLED NEAR THE FIREPLACE AND TALKS TO CHUUYA SOFTLY JUST THEM TOGETHER WHEN EVERYBODY ELSE IS ASLEEP AND ATSUSHI PRETENDS NOT TO HEAR THEM HNNN AND WHEN THE CURSE IS BROKEN AND CHUUYA IS NO LONGER BOUND TO DAZAI HE JUST IS SO HAPPY HES FREE AND AKUTAGAWA LOOKS DEFLATED RIGHT BUT THEN HE IMMEDIATELY TACKLES AKUTAGAWA IN A HUG AAAA-

anyways Y E S i totally agree with atsushi having black hair and it turning grey how dare you be so amazing WOW <33 and chuuya would definitely keep on teasing dazai about everything he literally does to atsushi the moment the young(old??) man is out of earshot

flower pressing with kunikida,,,how dare you make me soft i hate you and DAZAI AND ATSUSHI TAKING NAPS TOGETHER AAAA THATS SO CUTE PL S IM CRYING

#anon #ask #ask anon #anon ask #bsd #nyanon #nyatsushi anon

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comicsnas · 4 years

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showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

#posted ooc #action post #woof #eye gore text -#graphic violence -#eye trauma -#the rest of this will happen in discord :')#mentioned:#fontjoke #comedianrhapsody #mindparkour #jakepalooka sort of

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sikereviewdotcom · 4 years

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undercover brother (2002) review

sup been a while but didnt forget about yall and your eager butts to dive head first right in the flooding words coming out of my mouth today gonna rev "undercover brother" (2002), its gonna be solid guys

so we start with an introduction where we talk about how black culture was losing its flavour after the 70s, progress was slowed down n all as we reached 2000 but dont be fooled, its all cause of a buncha events orchastred by "the man"... a big racist mf ig whos also the kkk equivalent of the team rocket boss, sitting in a ig chair, never see his face in the flashbacks or like the bad guy in inspector gadget, more like him ig since we actually see the team R boss face quite often nonetheless, theres a form of mystery folding this whole business... THE MAN acts in the shadows and he hates to see how dark those are, he wants things to be like it used to be back in slavery times good oltime for him but.. not for the fam

ofc then here is introduced THE REAL MAN OF MEN => undercover brother, our hero and damn he has the style of a whole pack of elephants trampling around in pink disco suits every ladies wanna a piece of that sweet fro he is packing up on his head, funky

ngl, the whole way this mov is filmed n edited is sike asf, dope guys especially considerin its actually made in 2002, loving it anyway then were also introduced to the other secondary protags who are from an organisation here to stop The Mans evil doings and careful: undercover bro was actually a solo act until now cause now they gonna collaborate all throughout da mov: its the B.R.O.T.H.E.R.H.O.O.D, with conspiracy brother (tbh a fav here, guys wack like the whole plot guy thinks computer comes from a story involving peanut and idk guys he keeps rambling bout bs which makes him a+ character) smart brother, chief and sister girl (original name/10)

so btw the organization is on a mission rn at the beginning to destroy The Man (lets call him tm for the rest of this rev) financial infrastructure aka funds to stop him better or smthg and it gets spicy as they get caught but ofc undercover bro barges in from nowhere wow big disguise as an old man no one noticed him so like slash bawow boom vlam, bad guys ko and he squeedaddle out of there like twas breeze gg man, he also get fed a nice editing of xrays battle like with a side of kungfu n whatnot, undercover bro knows his stuff

nice sounds effects ah yes btw romantic intrigue with sister girl begins here, its the zinc of the flinch as ub (undercover brother) notices her big wink wink nudge nudge, btw later she is asked to go enlist him in the corps so he can help stop the man with them n shit and he trynna get her in his bed cause thats we this brother is used to, getting laid as soon as he meets a chick, who can resist this dude?

he gots moves, fro, style, skills and also at times he is a pussy but k, not everyones perf sometimes you just simp for a white blond blue eyed woman (spoiler) and crawls on all four looking like a big preppy nerd btw in this review im trynna not spoil the whole plot cause guys, this movie gotta be on yo watch list kay? im not here to ruin this experience in yo life itd be pretty uncool of me so im just gonna state the big lines then its up to you to swoop the tiny ones out of the watch, knot your own breds n stuff

back on the whooper slapping: intro credits roll, we get some nice back story for our hero, making sure we can understand his cause in saving the black peeps from TMs assholery might truth n justice be your guide

so what the big plot then? well yknow how a big antag cant do shit on his own cause hes too busy sticking brooms up his ass in his private quarters? yea well same goes here so there this gay guy who will be twerking later on btw, a scene to behold, rumps to ogle at, so hes a bad guy and gay n gonna do most of the dirty work for TM, whats new? idk what to think of it yknow its a stereotype in movs so ig ok still uncool but ill see it as all in good spirit cause theres bad n good im not excepting this to be the best watch of my life, nah it wasnt either, but i had a good laugh kay? makes up for it cause unlike some here i got no shit up my ass alley its clean scrubbed up n down so i can smoothly take a chillax up n a shit out without a night tormented by constipation, nah its all sliding where it should no pain no sweat

so the big lines is that a war hero whos a black man is gonna become president and wtf no is the only react racist mf could have which is what they have, bad guys gonna stop it from happening at once and the brotherhood aint letting it happens cause obvs something is wrong as every black peeps gonna turn into a stereotype like waddup in this mad world? its all because of the poisonous fried chicken brand TM will get around ty to another poison to make our war hero delusional n so on were also introduced to white evil she-ra later btw, just dropping this in cause undercover brother really wants to make oreos with her n sister girl (his words) ig shes the second love interest, im not too invested in this romantic intrigue it was just necessary not like twas very developped anyway its even more of a bedroom intrigue when it comes the the white blue eyed blond chick, sister girl before hoes yo

whats it in conclusion about this movie? first, the plot: hilarious biznasty worthy a+ bs especially how its turned yknow, the clichés were turned upside down n if not theyre just turned into a big satire of themselves editing + music ? yknow its actually good, and funky asf im digging it, a travel in time nostalgia of times i lived acting is pretty neat its not an ironically good movie cause its hilariously ridiculous in the making way its all about the plot here, plot twists and characters, the whole universe ig like its superior to big mamma sorta plot or maybe im dropping this comparison cause its been a while since i saw big maam, for sure twas under estimated while over brought when this here? it got freshness packed in

the spoiling was light and this is cause this movie got a 69/10 rating jk 8/10 if were gonna be serious, im gonna list wats unwoke n uncool here: 1 gay villain stereot, gotta be honest here its not that big of a deal tme seeing when it was made and how i still laughed yknow idc this much but some could go apeshit over it 2 not enough conspiracy brother content: this is all i ask for 3 had no snacks while watching the movie, too bad id dig a aj or grape soda right about now n then 4 more lines for car wash chicks jk this last one idc about, but car wash representation is lacking once again in american movies, i cant believe how looked over it is, as if they didnt need smore rep in the medias its not an easy job washing car all day long, standin in those ghost buster lookin suit while staring at the hot guys in hot wheelys, whos gonna pay you a drink when youre just an old carwash lady? thought finally a hero would step up in this movie but there it goes thrown out da window, the potential was real until it got blown away sure sister girl was a solid character but give the washers some credits cut them a slack of free time n have a lil date together there on top of a truck to keep it native

nonetheless this is a top rec for anyone who feels like slipping into some conspiracy slippers

tg, out

#undercover brother #sike reviews #movie review #undercover brother review

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fourthwingingit · 5 years

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Two

Edit: tumblr didnt post my edits from my original post (like you know when you save something as a draft and go oh wait there are some errors like no header and awkward phrasing lemme fix them) so im gonna repost this eventually but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit 2: tumblr sucks and never lets me put the thing so... This is for the anon who requested a fic of touch starved clark and conner with the prompts 'nobodys ever done that to me before' and 'i just want to be held' sorry it got angstier then i ment it to.... hope you like hurt comfort

Clark hovered awkwardly outside the door to conners room. He was nervous about seeing the teen with everything between them and what he wanted to ask him.

He took a breath. Conner almost certainly knew he was there already. But that didnt matter.

Ma always said that manners matter

He knocked.

From inside came a muffled, annoyed, and clipped

"What is it clark?"

Taking that as the best invitation he was going to get he opened the door and went in.

He looked at conner. The kid was on his bed, facedown on top of the covers like an angsty teen in a movie.

Clark thought he looked too small for the position he was in. Like he was waiting for some blow that was going to take a part of him with it to land... or like it already had and he was cradling a hole

Clark shook off the disturbing thought and steeled himself. He swiftly walked to Conner's bedside, and said, eloquently,

"Well. I... you see...... uh... lois- i mean to say..... uhh"

Lord this was already going to hell in a handbasket.

Conner turned his head enough to raise one eyebrow

"What the hell was that?"

He sat down a respectful distance away (as far away as he could) and tried again

"Hmm... you see i uhh- hmm you know how uhh.... things umm. Sometimes.... uhh"

Conner slowly turned his head the rest of the way to clark, confusion now written in every line in his body. great.

Clarks back bowed fast. Like his head gained 20 pounds in a half a second, his arms planted themselves on his knees and he gave up trying... he'd try again some other day. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe lois should do it.... Kal-el you coward.

"I... i dont know, ive got nothing."

But now he was scrambling, he needed a reason for being here. And what came out was;

"Ma told me shes uhh, seen you acting in a... less than..... ideal...... kind of.... way.?"

"Wow."

"No yeah i heard it"

"That was some next level awkward," and there was some distinct venom in that voice shoot. "if its that hard to be around me then you can find the door. I certainly dont need your pity handouts anyway."

Well.... shit

"No thats not.... im.... i wanted to ask- uh... whats been bothering you..... sport."

He now had what bruces kids called The Awkward White Man Smile... great.

Suprisingly, Conner chuckled.

Maybe a small part of Clark's brain said its not hopeless?

"Right now? Your social skills."

Banter! He hung around batman! He could do banter.

"Aww man and here i was thinking i was handing out winning lines."

"Oh no, youve gone senile a little early, well... maybe not early... good thing you've got Kara."

There was a small smirk playing at conners lips and an actual opportunity. God was real and he loved Clark Kent.

"At least I know I have two good boys to pick me up after im down." He looked away fast.

Silence stretched on

.......

Awkwardly

Oh lord he messed up the moment

He presumed too much and their only friendly interaction in over a month is ruined

"Two?"

The voice Conner used was so painfully soft and small. Like it didnt dare to hope anymore and had stopped trying a long time ago.

Clark never was good at leaving voices like that alone. And he was always more comfortable when something needed doing anyways.

Superman courage steadied him enough to take a risk.

He reached out his hand, and ruffled Conner's hair, trailing his fingers down after to rest on the shoulder closest to him and said.

"I have two kids dont i?"

More silence

Conner was frozen beneath his fingertips

He panicked

Oh god

He had fucked it up

He had fucked up enough times that conner didn't want anything to do with him

Okay damage control

"That is...." Conner stiffened further "if i haven't been so horrible to my eldist that he doesnt want anything to do with me"

The silence was now so deep he could hear the dust motes brushing against everything

He heard a tiny sniffle

And then he telltale sound of tears hitting bedsheets.

His head whipped around, his glasses flew off somewhere into the room. He barely noticed.

Shocked, he started to speak but Conner cut him off before he could finish the first syllable.

"You know when i was in Hawaii i used to watch families. Specifically parents and children. I'd be so jealous of-"

Conner cut himself off.

"Nobody's ever- i mean...... parents do that to their kids.... the hair touching thing.... Nobody's ever-" his voice broke, he cleared it. "Nobody's ever even tried to touch my hair if we werent kissing."

He gave a pitiful, watery laugh and, after a breif, stunned, pause, started rambling about how "of course i get it cut, like, the barber touches it and stuff..."

And it all hit clark.

Somehow it had never occured to Clark, that even though Conner looked like he was so much older than Jon, he wasnt.

He wondered who raised him

Who fed him

Who hugged him through nightmares

Clarks heart broke

Because he was certain the answer to most of those kinds of questions was 'Conner' and none of them were "Kal-el" or "Clark Kent"

Clark turned a bit and ran his hand over Conner's back softly, cutting off his rambling and said in a voice that was somehoe warm but still felt guilty and mourning;

"What do you want? What can I do?"

Conner was stunned. Kal had never given him anything like this. So he kept talking to give his brain time to catch up.

"I don.... i- i used to watch families... in- in Hawaii, and I'd get jealous of the kids, that they got to have families. Got to have parents. I dont..."

Clark turned a little to properly face his son and grabbed his hand.

"What can i do Conner?"

One day ago Conner would have asked for a lot. To never see Kal again, the superman title, his spot in the JL, even some time with Jon. But now?

Conner shifted, he sat up as best he could. And guided Kals hand to the side of his face, through tear tracks, held it there for a second, and then slid it into his hair. All thr while leaning into it like it was the only support he needed.

"I just want to be held.... without expectations..... without titles or rules or anything in return."

Connor wouldnt meet his eyes, or look up from the bedspread during his request.

For the second time that day Clark's heart broke. But now he had something he could do.

He reached out with his other hand, guiding his son into his arms, and gently layed them down

He kept one hand on the back of Conner's head, stroking the strands there. And one hand on Conner's back slowly moving back and forth.

From the first point of contact, Conner's world narrowed to the hand Kal had put on him. And now, there was more. Now he was allowed to reach out. He wanted to get closer. To bury his face in Kals chest and curl up small. To let the world fall away around them. Until nothing existed but them. Holding each other forever.

Kal seemed to read his mind, and guided his head to tuck itself under his chin and pressed them closer together.

No promises, no strings, no obligations after.

He could leave whenever he wanted.

He wanted to stay forever.

Conner wondered breifly what was like to be held by a father. If it felt as nice as this. Like everything crashed in on him, but it was okay.

Maybe, he thought.

They had a maybe.

And this maybe was a lot of ground to stand on.

#kal el #clark kent #kon el #conner kent #father son #familial bonds #hurt comfort #cuddling & snuggling #platonic cuddling #fic #dc #superman #superboy #my fic #for anon #my writing

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cashtonsangel · 5 years

Text

Flowers

Summary: Michael commits a crime out of love.

Word Count: 1000+

Warnings: none its all fluff!!!

A/N: im back!!! school has been rough so i havent had time or motivation but honestly i love this so i hope you do too!! anyways i love drunk michael and thats the tea.

You saw Michael walking up to you with a mischievous smile on his face and his hands behind his back. He was suppose to go and bring back some food and refreshments from the buffet, but his hands looked quite empty for carrying food for the both of you.

Approaching the table you sat at, your boyfriend sat down in the chair directly across from you before pulling his hands from behind his back and presenting you with a small gift.

“What’s this?” You gave him a questioning look.

“It’s a flower, just for you, Y/N.” Michael beams, holding the flower out to you for you to admire. After a brief moment, Michael’s fingers found the back of your head and tucked the flower behind your ear before carefully adjusting your hair so it would compliment your face. He continued to mindlessly play with your hair as he admired your face.

“Michael? What are you doing?”

“Well, babe I saw a pretty flower and it made me think.”

“A flower made you think?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your tone.

“Yeah,” he exclaimed, “do you want to know what it made me think about?”

“Of course, babe. Enlighten me.” You were amused by his fixation for the plant.

“Well, Y/N, you see, you’re pretty, and this flower is pretty, so if I gave you the flower then you would be double pretty.” Michael gave you the biggest grin, proud of his flawless logic.

Laughing, you couldn’t help but replicate his smile. This man really was a piece of work.

The entire morning Michael had been whining about not wanting to go to your cousin’s wedding with you, begging for you to stay in bed with him and enjoy a night in. He tried to talk you out of going to the wedding, even going as far as making up different lies you could tell to your cousin if they realized that you were missing. But in the end, you had somehow managed to convince him to go with a promise of lazy day tomorrow.

Although Michael had agreed to go, you were prepared for his constant pouting throughout the ceremony and reception, but the moment the both of you entered the venue, his eyes lit up.

You knew that Michael was the biggest romantic and you knew that the thought of weddings excited him to no end. Truth be told, Michael had a slight infatuation with love and weddings. He would always talk about how he couldn’t wait to get married and gushed about how your wedding was going to be that most extravagant event that he could ever dream of.

When the reception started, Michael had made his way to the bar, grabbing a couple of drinks for the both of you to share, claiming that in order to have some fun and truly appreciate the party, you both had to let loose.

And here he was, drunk off of a few of the weddings signature cocktails.

“Michael, you’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” there was a slight pause, as if he was registering just how drunk he actually was, “anyways, do you like my flower, Y/N?”

“Babe, it’s not your flower. You literally stole this flower from the dessert table. I watched you as you put it in your pocket when you were getting more chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Yeah, I saw the flower and I took it from the table. So now it’s mine… well actually it’s yours because I gave you my flower. But I took the flower because I was at the dessert table, and I was like ‘Oh wow you know who else is a sweet snack? My baby, Y/N’ so I stole it for you because you’re my snack, with two C’s as the cool kids say.”

“I thought you said you took the flower so I could be double pretty, not because I was a snack.”

“Oh my gosh, baby, are you not paying attention?!” Michael practically screamed.

You were quick to shush him, afraid of all the unwanted stares that he was receiving.

“Maybe we should lay off on the alcohol right, babe. I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” Your eyes wandered the room, making sure that the eyes that were previously on the two of you were now lingering somewhere.

Michael didn’t pay anyone else any attention; he was solely concentrated on getting you to understand the purpose of the stolen flower in your hands.

“Listen to me very closely, baby. I was at the dessert table getting some more food when the whole table reminded me of you because my baby is a damn snac- actually no you know what, babe? You’re a whole damn meal. A full 7 course meal, baby! Anyways, as I was thinking about how much of a meal you are, which by the way, you look absolutely killer baby, I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be with you. But anyways, as I was think about how much of a meal you are, I was like ‘damn my baby would be so pretty with this flower in her hair’ and now here we are. My pretty lady has a pretty flower in her hair.” Michael rambled on, digressing on certain parts as his drunk mind tried to process all the events that happened prior to his arrival at the your table.

You couldn’t help but smile at his story. Michael always showered you with kind words and compliments which always made heat come up to your cheeks. You had been with him for over 3 years, but you would never get used to his constant appraisal.

“Thank you, Michael. I love the flower so much.”

“Good because it looks even better than I thought it would behind your ear.”

Leaning forwards, you gave Michael a quick peck on the cheek as a token of appreciation, and you felt him smile against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N.” He hiccuped at the end of his sentence, causing you to giggle at his surprised face.

Pulling away you laid your head against his shoulder and enjoyed the rest of the night in his embrace.

taglist: @gigglyirwin @mysticalhood @jpgluke @norawashere @claredolphinbear24 @you-of-ghost @calumamongmen @maoricth

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#5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford fluff #michael clifford writing #michael clifford drabble #michael clifford x reader #5sos fluff #5sos writing #5sos blurb #5sos drabble #tumblrsos #my writing #pls love me thx

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bluebuckstallion · 6 years

Text

kinda ramble-y fic below the cut, includes a metric fuck-ton of angst, macdennis, teen au, drinking, and a Lot of implied abuse/trauma

summary: macs a rebellious 14 year old tht hates the rich, dennis is a dick that really just needs an outlet to share his feelings, theyre sad together

ok no offense but i just...really love the concept of like, teen mac & charlie crashing house parties. them sneaking out of the house together and their late night adventures quickly becoming a blur of adrenaline and laughter as they jus show up at random parties someone down the street is throwing. they show up undetected at the peak of the utter chaos that is teen rebellion, take a shitload of booze, and then ditch just as fast. they go by the train tracks after and get wasted together, drowning out the deafening reality that is their parents dont care enough to notice theyre not at home every night & that life isnt going so well. and for once they can be happy in each others company and have a taste of a childhood they deserved, even if they can only find it at the bottom of a bottle

one night mac goes off by himself, probably because charlie just hasnt been as up to going out. mac has no clue why, the only things charlie’s been sputtering about between drinks every night is his ‘son of a bitch of an uncle’ who moved back in recently. mac doesnt understand and charlie wont give him what he needs to understand it. so mac gives it no second thought. he spots this absolutely huge house in the suburbs. hes never seen something with architecture like this and hell sure as hell never understand how someone can afford so much room, or what its even used for. the yard is donned with blacked out kids he knows from his classes, and the inside of the house is filled with the melody of drunk kids slurring and laughing to party songs.

he decides this is it-this is the one place hell allow himself to go without his best friend. and hell definitely save booze for him. and he wont allow himself to feel guilty for it, he never does anything for himself anyways. he strides in with a nonchalant facade and his best ‘yes-i-definitely-belong-here’ smile from cheek to cheek, waving at classmates that never noticed him before and definitely wont now. which is the only advantage that comes from being the rat, one of the sore losers in the bullshit hierarchy that is high school popularity. nobody will notice when youre taking something right infront of them.

he makes it to the kitchen and finally pieces together who lives here-its the piece of shit he has half his classes with, the word snob as a person, someone he cant help but loathe for his gross elitism. its dennis reynolds. some kid thats really full of himself, someone who helped trademark ‘the rat’ and laughs at mac while hes down. he didnt really mind, its not like he was bullying charlie, and he was strong enough to take the half-assed insults this guy threw at him. it wasnt a big deal.

but here, now-he found dennis in the midst of his own party, alone in the kitchen, half-empty bottle of tequila in tow, and what looked like mascara trailing from his eyes. what a pussy is what he was about to say, but something stopped him. dennis looked at the other boy looming over him and flinched, covering his face instantly. mac was confused, what the hell was he doing that for? when dennis realized he was fine, he instantly tried to revert back to his cool guy defense mode. something compelled mac to crouch down next to him because, well geez, the poor kid was a mess.. and he felt like it humanized him. the urge to steal his things for a taste of a life he never had slowly died down as he said hello to the gracious party host himself. “why-are-you-here”s were spit out instantly, because dennis didn’t remember inviting some dirty street rat to his party. mac gave a really half-assed excuse, which was all he needed to convince dennis he was supposed to be here, considering all his thoughts were mush from how out of it he was-he never had the opportunity to drink this much on account of his sister beating him to it, or his mom emptying everything after heated arguments with his dad. and although it annoyed him when she was drunk, it was better than falling asleep to the melody of fighting and the threat of an impending divorce.

but anyways, now mac is lost in his eyes and they’re both half a bottle of tequila down, and he isnt sure if hes holding his hand or just dreaming it. and oh god, his eyes are so beautiful and his lips are coated with strawberry chapstick and he wants to kiss them so bad, he wants to keep holding his hand for all of eternity but at the same time he wants to hold his face in his hands and wow he wants to kiss him so bad and to taste the strawberry chapstick and god, hes infatuated. he wants to wipe his tears away and to kiss his rosy cheeks and run his hands through his hair, so bad. and it hits him that hes too deep, what would charlie think of this? falling for the enemy? fuck. but that doesnt matter because all that matters now is the fact hes really hand in hand with someone hes fallen in love with, and all it took was talk of trauma and a bottle of tequila.

theyre no longer on the kitchen floor as theyre giggling hand in hand stumbling up the stairs, leaning on each other and shushing one another as they laugh too hard to smile right and their cheeks are flush and they arent sure if its the drinking or their company. theyre trying to be quiet as they close the door to the twins’ room and dennis tries to lock it with a shaky hand. mac watches him in utter jaw-dropping awe, feeling butterflies fill his stomach and suffocating any insecurity hed ever felt before. this was new to him. but dennis felt it even stronger. hed spent so long building up a wall, hed spent so long listening to his mothers vodka-fueled lectures about never letting yourself fall in love. barbara made him promise hed never do that to himself, it hurt too much she told him. but now he was sitting on the top bunk of his bed with what seemed to be the boy of his dreams, he didnt know he could ever feel this way or honestly feel anything at all, and he was too drunk to feel guilty for it.

hours pass and now mac is laying on his bare chest. dennis has his hands intertwined in his hair and hes taken away by how soft it is when he strokes it. macs never felt a wave of clarity envelop him so softly before. hes at peace. all the droning hum of party music is drowned out. all he can hear is the soft rhythm of their hearts and their cautious breathing, both scared that this still might not be real. macs heart flutters when he realizes dennis’ breathing gets faster as he moves his hand across his chest, and he looks up with half-slit puppy dog eyes that dennis is absolutely in love with. mac opens his mouth to speak, but changes his mind. he doesnt wanna jinx it, hes so scared he wont be able to impress cool kid dennis reynolds, and he doesnt wanna do anything to change this moment. he plays it safe. as he snuggles closer, dennis holds him and macs face is the warmest its ever been, and he buries it in the other boys chest. he doesnt know how to react to this, hes never known how to react to anything but especially nothing like this. his face is even warmer than macs and hes trying so hard to not let him know that he likes him because thats something his mom would be ashamed of. mac falls asleep on his chest, and dennis cant stop playing with his hair.

dennis wakes him up because he knows everything would be ruined if anyone found them together, especially his sister. god knows what she would do. and dennis tries to tell him he should leave, but the words choke him too much to come out when he sees macs adorable face glance up at him. and hes just too shy to say a word.

the next thing they know, dennis pulls him closer and theyre both kissing for the first time, and mac feels wrong. he wants to push him away and he knows he should feel absolutely horrible, he knows god would be disappointed in something like this and hes terrified of the consequences hell get. but he pushes the thoughts away and succumbs to the warmth that surrounds his body. dennis is holding him so gently and neither want to ever move again, and something compels them to stay together. the kiss is only broken by dennis’ nervous laughter, and a smile that he cant hide. and when the boys recollect themselves they start kissing again. they never went further than that, partially because they couldnt get it up this drunk and partially because they were too scared to ruin it, but it was still nice to fall asleep side by side, even if they didnt mean to

mac wakes up to the soft golden smile of the suns rays against the bed, and he vaguely remembers last night. panic sets in like it never has before. hes never stayed somewhere else this late before. what if charlie’s looking for him. what if whoever hes with didnt lock the door and someone saw him. and then he remembers who hes with, and hes terrified. what the hell did he do? he feels tears of shame well up because he knows hes a sinner in gods eyes and hes made the biggest mistake of his life, and oh fuck when he tried to get out from under the covers he woke dennis up. he isnt even half as shocked as mac is, hes calm. hes happy. hes never woke up so peacefully before, and hes grinning. he tries to tell mac good morning but hes rambling under his breath about how wrong this is and hes going to hell, and dennis takes that as a sign he shouldve taken his mothers advice. hes utterly crushed.

mac doesnt even apologize as he leaves, he slips on his boots and gets out as soon as he can despite the wavering tone in dennis’ protests and pleads to stay. he forgets his jacket during the rush. he leaves dennis confused and more scared of opening up than hes ever been, and he doesnt know how to deal with his feelings anymore. mac tries to forget everything. he never tells charlie. he doesnt ever want to look dennis in the eyes again. he never wants to feel that way again, because he went from feeling on top of the world to being ashamed and thinking he knows its wrong. he doesnt tell anyone.

#macdennis #fanfic #?i guess #dennis reynolds #ronald mac mcdonald #dennis #mac #iasip #always sunny #its always sunny in philadelphia #hey im rlly sry abt this being shitty but hhhhh this is loosely based on a party i went to awhile ago so cheers #angst #fluff #uhhh theres a bit of implied charmac @ the beginning #i didnt proofread this so ;/#anyways #ash.mp3 #ash.doc

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geminimoonbeamx · 7 years

Text

Sweet Tooth: Part Six

A/N: Wow writing this story has me real life falling in love with this dude. Send halp you guys.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Cursing, Lance Tucker being Lance Tucker. Male masturbation, Sexual situations(but it’s still pretty SFW)

Summary: Lance Tucker has come back to his hometown with his ego bruised and his look on life more tainted then ever. When he runs into Y/N; a vibrant plus size woman he went to high school with at her bakery ‘Cake Faced’, he leaves the shop with the taste of sugar on his lips and a hunger that has nothing to do with the cupcakes.

💘💘💘💘

You know when you just have one of those days that’s complete and absolute shit from start to finish? The kind of day where it feels like a every possible thing that could go wrong, does go wring?

Yeah, Lance Tucker was having one of those.

He woke up to a serious case of morning wood, like the violent kind, his erection strained painfully against the material of the sweat pants he’d worn to sleep and when he freed it, it had crooked up so fast that it slapped against the taut lower abs of his stomach. It wasn’t that Lance wasn’t accustomed to this particular issue, he’d been a teenage boy before, “Wet dreams are a normal part of growing up” he remembered his family doctor telling him, much to his mortification.

But he was a grown man now. He shouldn’t be waking up hard as a rock- at least not as frequently as he had been. For the last two weeks, ever since that god forsaken night at the bar, he’d been able to dream about nothing but you. It was cliché and annoying, but somehow you always popped up. His subconscious couldn’t keep you out.

Whether the dream was about him being lost at sea, in some kind of suburban ground hog day like hell- or scariest in a court room where he was being accused of sleeping with the gymnasts back in California- you we’re always there. Offering him a Pina Colada served in a coconut, or dressed in a tight 50’s style dress waiting for him when he sang out ‘Honey, I’m home", or sitting on the defense stand. “No, he’d never do that!”

You wouldn’t go away.

And waking from last nights dream, the one where he was seventeen again, winning his first gold and you were in his hotel room waiting for him. Your hair falling around your shoulders like a halo, a black silken robe hugging your curves. Your plump lips painted a bright cherry red, as you perched on your knees on the bed.

“Congratulations Mr. Tucker” Your voice had been angelic but your eyes we’re fucking monstrous. Devious. Enough to bring anyone to their knees “Come give me that gold” And then you’d opened that robe and he’d lost it at the sight of your heavy round breasts and cute tummy. Those pert nipples and thick, juicy thighs. Dream him had literally pounced on you.

And just as he was about to pound you into the mattress, the sound of someone next door mowing their lawn had woken him up.

“Fuck me” Lance groans as he fists his hard on, tugging it roughly. He was getting sick of jerking off. Sick of you messing with his head the way you had been doing since that day he’d walked into your shop.

You just wouldn’t cave, and he just wouldn’t give up his pride.

He hadn’t tried to contact you in the weeks that had followed your rejection. Even though he found himself driving past your shop, though he’d memorized the road that lead to your house. Why should he ask again? You should be the one asking, begging, for his attention. It shouldn’t be this fucking hard.

He thinks about that look in your eye, the one that had been there when you’d pressed that kiss to his cheek and then slammed the door in his face. How messed up is it that, thats what gets him off. Makes him shoot his load and bite his bottom lip so hard he thinks it might fall off.

He hates you, after he comes down from the high of the orgasm.

He wants you, when he cleans himself up,

When he thinks about how hard he had just came. Just with the thought of you behind his eyes. He could only imagine the real thing-

The blaring ring of his phone interrupts his thoughts and he reaches over to blindly grab at the device on his night stand, checking the time before answering it.

It was only 5:30 in the morning. What kind of sick fuck was mowing their lawn at this time?

“Hello?” He answers, his voice rough as sandpaper.

“Lance, my man” It’s the familiar voice of Allen, his manager-well former manager. He hadn’t spoken to him in months and he was kind of shocked to hear him now, this early in the morning.

Red flags instantly went up in his mind.

“Allen? What’s going on?”

“Hey, hey, breath. It’s nothing that we didn’t know was bound to happen eventually, I just wanted you to hear it form me before anyone else tells you about it” Lance had always hated the way Allen sugar coated everything “So CNN got a hold of the story-”

That catapulted him into a sitting positon “What the fuck?! What do you mean they got a hold of the story? I thought that it was being kept wrapped up? That’s why the gym got closed down, right?” Lance’s words tumble out of his mouth, dread filling his stomach.

“They tried to keep it under wraps, you know the Board didn’t want it out because it makes them look just as bad as anyone, but some mom leaked it to TMZ for the payout and well-”

“God fucking damn it” Lance runs a hand over his face. This was bad. Even though he’d had nothing to do with the whole Zach being a child molester thing, he knew that the whole gym was about to get drug through the mud. That everyone’s names that were even the least bit involved were soon going to be tarnished. Because no mother would ever have their child being coached by someone who was deemed “unsafe” by fucking Anderson Cooper.

His career really was over.

And funny thing, it wasn’t even his fault.

“-And it will be okay, you can give a statement and clear things up on your end-” He hadn’t even been listening to Allen’s rambling.

“No” Lance decides “Fuck no, I’m not saying shit. Not right now, when everything is about to blow up”

“But-”

“Allen, I have to go. Keep me updated about what’s going on, okay? I’d like to know when I’m gonna’ see my face on national news” And he doesn’t even wait for a reply before he clicks the end button and hangs up. He’s quiet for a moment, attempting to process it all.

He was the fucking god of gymnastics, they couldn’t do this to him. And yet they we’re- over some sex scandal he hadn’t even committed himself. He always though that if it was a sex scandal that was going to end his career, at least he’d would have been the one to do it!-

The heavy rumble of the lawn mower out side of his window makes his eye twitch and he gets out of bed, throwing on a t-shirt over his naked chest and making sure his sweats sit normally on his hips before storming out of the apartment- onto the little patio above the garage. Ready to tell who ever the stupid prick was- just how stupid of a prick they we’re.

“Ma?” Lance is shocked as he see’s his mother in the early morning light, a neon pink wicker gardening hat on as she maneuvers the lawn mower. She looks chipper- and completely oblivious to the fact that he was going through a crisis.

“Good morning, Lancelot!” She uses the nickname she’d always had for him, but doesn’t stop her task “There’s breakfast inside on the table. I made that grapefruit juice you like! Fresh squeezed!”

“Mom, it’s not even six in the morning yet, what the hell are you doing?” Lance, barefoot, pads down the wooden steps and onto the lawn. He’s dark hair is mused, his blue eyes still puffy and sleep swollen as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at the woman who had given him life.

She stops the mower, just for a moment to talk to him.

“The early bird catches the worm, you’ve gotta’ remember that one, hon’. I’ve been up for hours, just look at my rose beds, don’t they look so nice?” He looks at the vast garden on the other side of the yard. It didn’t look any different to him but he tells her their nice anyway.

She’d been on this weird renovations kick, which meant so had he because he ended up finishing whatever project she started. So far she’d painted the kitchen, refurbished an old piece of shit dresser she’d found at a yard sale, and now was proceeding to prim the outside of the house. Retirement wasn’t being kind to her, he knew she’d never been able to stay idle. A trait he’d inherited from her.

“Now go eat! And make sure the girls are up, will you? And would you mind driving them to school today? Brooklyn has an early shift”

He wants to punch the garage wall. Wants to jump off the roof of it, but he forces a “fine” through his teeth and goes to play Mr. Uncle-mom to his nieces.

Had you told Lance last year that he’d be living back home, in a house full of women, he would have laughed in your face. And yet here he was, doing exactly that. He guessed it could be worse, at least he had a little bit of space since he lived in the room above the garage and not in the actual house, but still. He was drowning in estrogen.

He was drowning in general.

Mornings are chaotic in the Tucker household, Brooklyn gets the girls dressed and ready but then has to be out of the door to make it to work in time, Lance doesn’t hold it againts her. He knew she was trying, that life hadn’t been kind to her either in the last year.

So he helped as much as he could, taking a quick shower and getting ready at lightning speed so he could pick up where his sister had left off. His mom helped too, feeding them stacks of pancakes and cups of juice.

He can’t help but be a little bitter as he watches the girls mow down. He remembers the harsh diets he’d been on as a child, fuck he’d gotten protein shakes for breakfast since he was six. The early morning gym sessions. The pressure. His dad’s whip like schedule- training. Constantly. He couldn’t be the best if he half assed it.

He shakes the thoughts as the girls finish up and grab their back packs, heading out of the front door before he does.

“You’ve been such a big help, Lancelot. I’m so happy your home” his mother rubs his arm endearingly, looking at him with grateful tawny eyes.

“It’s no problem”

What else could he say?

He slides on his pair of Ray Bans and gives her head a kiss before he’s out, after the girls. It’s a picturesque morning, they sky all clear and blue. Birds sing singing and all that. And yet he can’t bring himself to appreciate it- actually he thinks he wishes for rain. That the April sky would open in and drench the earth.

“Ooh, I love this song. Turn it up!” Lula coo’s from her place in the back seat and he chuckles and turns up Elton John’s Tiny Dancer.

“How do you even know this song?” He wonders as she belts out the lyrics. She really was a sixty year old trapped in a six year old.

“It’s a classic, Uncle Lance!”

He shakes his head and then Zoey’s being particularly quiet. Which is noticeable. Because the girl is never quiet.

“You okay?” He asks her non chalantley, eyes not leaving the road. In his side view he can see her shrug.

“I guess”

“You guess?” He purses his lip at that “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“No” she huffs her arms crossing and he’s dealt with enough women in his life time to know to not poke the bear.

“Alright…” He drawls out. There’s one moment and then two and then she caves, the flood gates bursting open like he’d knew they would.

Some little bitchy girl at her school was giving her shit about how she should go to the Spring Fling dance because there was the family pictures that had to be taken and Zoey didn’t have a family anymore.

His face screws up in disgust.

“First of all, fuck her” Lance tells his niece “And secondly, you do have a family. Your dad’s going to be in town that week and you know your moms not going to miss it”

Zoey looks pensive “But it’s not the same. They don’t love eachother anymore”

Lance sighs. At the top of the list of things he didn’t want to do right now, talking to her about love was pretty high up there.

“That’s alright. People fall out of love all the time. It doesn’t mean they don’t care about eachother, or you guys anymore. It’s just…what happens” Lance shrugs. That’s all he’s got. He’d never been an expert on the subject, his own parents were divorced. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his dad.

“You don’t think it’ll be weird, our family picture?”

“Of course it won’t. Your parents will be in it, and grandmas chaperoning. And what am I, chopped liver?” That get her to smile a little bit, bob her head with the music.

“No, you’re the coolest. That’s why I like it when you take us to school the best, everyone always talks about how cool this car is!”

He chuckles. At least some one thought he was cool.

“Yeah they say 'your uncle has a sick ass car’” Lula chimes from the back seat and Lance almost chokes.

“Lula” he warns and she nods.

“I know, I know. No telling mom that you let us cuss in your car. What happens in the Audi, stays in the Audi” the littlest girl recites to him before continuing her musical rendition of Elton John.

After he drops off the girls his brain kind of turns off, and he ends up phantom driving around town. Down the old back roads he’d learned how to drive on. Past the park that he’d gotten his first hand job at. Past the old gym that he’d shed blood, sweat and tears, for years at. He thinks maybe he should stop. Maybe going in would make him feel…better? Anything?

But he just drives past it like he had since he’d gotten back to Hillsboro.

When he ends back up on Main Street, he knows exactly where he’s going. Where his destination is, and he slides smoothly and swiftly into a parking space right out front of 'Cake Faced’

———————————-

You don’t miss Lance.

You’d told yourself that for the past two and a half weeks. He’d gone completely awol on you after that night on your porch. He’d totally disappeared. Hadn’t stopped by the store, hadn’t been anywhere around town. Your eyes peeled for him in the super market when you went. You looked for that head of raven hair everyday among the sea of customers, but it was no use. You didn’t have any way to get a hold of him either. No number, no idea where exactly his house was…not that you’d just show up at his house. Would you? You’d searched him up on Facebook and sat with his page on your laptop screen for an entire day, contemplating clicking the “accept friend” button. You remembered when he’d sent the request a few years ago you’d literally barked out loud and ignored it. And now…well now things were different, weren’t they?

You decided againts it though. He obviously wasn’t interested anymore. Had he ever really been at all?

You can’t be mad, not really. You’d been the one to turn him down, to end things so to say. You’d spent a lot of nights hating yourself for not letting him in. And almost as many thanking yourself, because this would feel a whole lot shittier had you made love to him. Had you let him in.

So you work. It’s what your good at, after all. The shop’s Instagram page has almost 700,000 followers and you were set to get interviewed by Portlands Better Homes and Gardens magazine. You were comfortable, in your routine. With your success.

So why did you feel so…so?

“Ugh” you curse as you ice a tray of cooled Rocky Road cupcakes. You always did this when you were feeling antsy. Frosting cupcakes was the rawest form of therapy to you. Which is why you’d done almost every batch this morning by yourself, shooing any of your workers who tried to take the dark from you.

“Fine. I love getting paid to sit on my ass and watch Netflix on my phone” Shane had sasses you and you’d sent him a warning glare. It would have been scarier had you not had a smear of rainbow frosting on your cheek.

When you exit the kitchen, on your way to your office, your not looking for Lance. For the first time since that night, your not scanning for him. Not even thinking about him.

When you run into a wall like figure. Tall and hard and smelling of Armani…

Your eyes trail upwards, taking in the white t-shirt and midnight blue bomber jacket. The toned muscle underneath. The sharp jaw line and then those cerulean eyes.

“Lance?” It comes out shocked, disbelief coloring your tone.

He sure knew how to fucking make an entrance. He kept doing this. Showing up and taking your breath away. Everytime, it was totally unexpected. He never failed at slapping you in the face, right when you stopped expecting the blow.

“Hey, sweetheart” He looks down at you, at the way your till pressed to his front. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest, “Miss me?”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the smile on your lips “Not even a little bit”

He knows it’s a lie, he can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your voice.

“I didn’t miss you at all either” he grins at the fact that you hadn’t stepped away. That you’d ran head first into him and now you were just standing there, pressed againts him. He decides to test it, he hasn’t seen that pretty face of yours in weeks and he can’t help the way that his hand that had been steadying on your shoulders drops, skimming down your side, the curve of your waist, and coming to rest on your lower back.

It was intimate, it wasn’t something two friends did. You don’t want to pull away but you are at work. And this town is so tiny… yoi were sure the rumor mill would eat this shit up.

“Huh, I bet. So that’s why you just turned up in here, right?” You don’t look away from him as you reach your hand around to where his was in your owed back, giving his long fingers a squeeze, before pulling them from your body and stepping away. He doesn’t let you pull your hand away though, he twines your fingers together and you fight the chill that creeps up your spine.

“I’m only here for the cupcakes” you slap his shoulder lightly at that and he brings your connected hands to his lips, pressing a kiss againts your knuckles “You got me hooked” he breaths againts your skin and your throat hitches at his words. You? Have him hooked? “I can’t get enough of those lavender cheesecake ones. I think I could eat them for the rest of my life and die happy”

You roll your eyes at him. Of course he’d been talking about the cupcakes. He couldn’t have been talking about you- about what ever was going on between the two of you. You pull your hand from his grasp.

He really did have some balls. Cutting contact with you and then just walking in here and holding your hand and looking at you like- like that! His eyes peircing and affectionate and playful.

Ugh.

You turn to go behind the counter, plucking one of the cupcakes from under the glass and placing it on a napkin.

“Here” you come back to him, reaching out to hand it to him.

“Wait, lemme grab my wallet-” Lance goes for his pockets but you shake your head, reaching to deposit the sweet in his hand.

“Your fine” you insist and he gives you a cocked eyebrow “Since you just came for the cupcakes. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You know your being a little dramatic, but hey, it’s in your nature. And you still felt odd about having not heard from him, you had no idea where the two of you stood.

Lance guawfs humorlessly and balances the cake in one hand while grabbing your wrist in the other, yanking you to a stop.

“You know damn well I didn’t come for the cupcakes”

You feel so…small. Under the grip on your wrist and the authorities timber in his voice. It thrills you. It turns you on, even though you’d deny it. Him being like this, using his coach persona on you had your lower belly pooling with heat.

“I came to see you. I’ve had- a really crappy start to my day and I thought maybe we could take a drive” Lance continues on, his fingers still locked around your grip. You notice then, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The way his shoulders sagged. He looked…sad. Of course, you’d never seen him upset so you didn’t really have anything to go on, but he didn’t hold himself the way he usually did. And there was a lot less gel in his hair today.

“Okay”

He doesn’t think he heard you right. Had you agreed? With out him having to convince you?

“Okay?” He clarifies, just to assure himself.

“Yeah. I’m going to go grab my bag, and a box for your cupcake. Do you want anything else? A water?” You ask him and even though he shakes his head you grab two bottled waters instead of one.

—————————————

Lance’s red sports car is amazing and as you climb onto the leather seat you can’t help but ogle at it a little bit. It suited him. You couldn’t really imagine him driving anything else.

Nothing else would have suited his sucidal driving habits.

“You okay over there, Sugar?” Lance’s mouth quirks as he looks over at you, your gripping the seat with white knuckles.

“Yeah, if you could please slow down though. I’d like to keep my life, thanks”

Of course Lance just chuckles and presses down on the gas harder. After a while, you realize he has it completely under control. The wheel is balanced in one hand, his eyes serene and calm as they stare at the road and you relax, trust blooming in your chest.

“So, where are we going?” You ask after you noticed that you’ve passed the 'Welcome to Hillsboro" sign.

“I don’t really know”

You humm and lean your head back, enjoying the whip of your hair and the sunshine on your face that came with the top of the convertible being down.

“You wanna go to my favorite park in the world? It’s a little out of the way, but it’s the best”

Your eyes get big and excited and of course he wants to take you to the place that makes you light up like that.

“Just tell me where to go”

You give him directions, you don’t even have to plug them into your phones GPS. The ride takes about forty five or so minutes but Lance doesn’t mind. He’d more then happy to drive far, far away from his problems at the moment.

You flip on a comedy station to pass the time and both of you end up in stitches after listening to Bert Kreischer’s Russian mob story.

“Oh hell no” you wheeze, wiping tears away from the corner of your eyes. Lance laughs so hard, his head thrown back. He looks carefree, and beautiful. So beautiful.

“Lance, look at the road!” You insist, still giggling as you poke his shoulder.

When he pulls into the gravel lot of where you say the park is, he can’t say he’s too impressed. It’s just a wide field shielded by heavy tree line-

“It’s a little bit of a walk to the actually park. That’s okay with you, right?” You tell him, reading the un-amazement on his face.

“Lead the way, Sugar plum”

The walk down the path that winds through the trees is filled with you teasing him relentlessly for calling you sugar plum. What kind of pet name was that? Sugar plum? Like the fairy? Lance just snorts and tells you that he knows you love it.

When you get to the actual park, he can see why it’s your favorite. It’s small and quaint and looks something it of a story book. With the large willow trees that framed the park equipment. There’s a sea of daffodils that bleeds into the shrubbery.

The Park looks a little like this

“How’d you even find this place?” Lance wonders as they swing back and forth on the swing set.

“I wish it was like some cutesy story, but it’s really not. I- as I assume you remember- am extremely directionary challenged and I got super lost one day and ended up here when I was ,like, I don’t know twenty, I think? I smoked a joint and slept in my car and now this is my favorite place”

He can’t help but chuckle at your story, at the bluntness. Unbeknownst to him, you were sharing something big with him. That day you’d gotten lost and found this place had just so happened to be the day of your mothers funeral.

You don’t tell him that part though.

You don’t want to shift the atmosphere, he already seems a bit down and the last thing you intend on doing is making it worse.

“I wish we had a joint right now” He sighs and looks up, eyes closed to the sun “I could really fucking use one”

“You know you can talk to me, right? I mean I’m a lot of things but a judgemental bitch is not one of them” You gnaw on your lip, gauging his reaction as you swing.

“Yeah, I know” Lance realizes how much he actually does want to talk about it. He just had no one to do so with. Everyone had their own busy lives and he couldn’t unload his shit on them, and yet here you were. Arguably the busiest, and yet you were still inviting him to lay it on you. Your eyes reassuring.

“Do you know why I moved back to town? Honestly” with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t think you would have been able to lie.

“Not really. I heard that some shit went down back in California, but no specific details”

Lance gets off the swing, with a huff and your worried you might have pushed too hard but he just throws you a backwards look, urging you to follow him.

And that’s how the two of you end up laying in the grass, him telling you about the fuckery road that his life had gone down. Lance took off his jacket and balled it up so that you could rest your head on it, your shoulder presses into his ribs as you listen to him.

It feels good, to vent. To bitch, to get it out. And you’re so receptive, really listening to him while not just letting him drone on. You give him input, you share your perspective.

“I think it’s probably my karma, all of this” Lance tries to sound light. Comical. But comes out bitter and upset instead.

“Hey, we all do stupid fucked up things. I hate to be the one to have to inform you of this, but your a human being” you sit up on your elbow so that your looking down at him, your hair tumbles over your shoulder like a curtian “I know your used to being this…Olympic God machine but your flesh and bone just like the rest of us”

He’s tracing your features with his eyes. The arching cupid’s bow of your lips, the deep dimples in your cheeks. The way your eyelashes flutter againts them as your gaze tips down to his. “My life is total and utter shit, Y/N”

Hearing him admit that to you, something you know wasn’t easy for him to say, makes your heart break. You reach out and push a stray, dark lock away from his forehead comfortingly. Lance keens at the feeling of your fingers feather light on his skin.

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to figure out what to do next then. Which isn’t easy, but your Lance Tucker. I have faith in you. You should have a little faith in yourself” you whisper, your fingers trailing down, skimming over that deep endent under his cheek that you had always ached to touch. Down past his chin, dancing along his protruding jaw line.

The way your looking at him is driving him crazy. The fondness and admariation your showering him with is too much…

But somehow it’s just enough. Just what he’d needed.

“Y/N” He starts but the words die in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. How to thank you, for not letting him sink into the quick sand of self criticism. For being there for him, when he hadn’t realized he’d needed anyone there in the first place.

When he reaches up to cup the side of your neck and you don’t pull away he wants to kiss you. Then you bite your plump bottom lip between your teeth, and your eyes go bashful and sweet he needs to kiss you.

So he does. He pulls you down to his lips firmly internally groaning at the fact that he’s finally getting to taste you. Your lips taste sugary sweet, your breath in his mouth saccharine like candy and he can’t get enough. He twines his fingers under your hair and pulls you closer, his tounge delving into your mouth after a while, in search of more of that flavor. The little sqeaks and hums your emiting spur him on.

“Mmm, Lance” you get out between kisses and he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to stop. Not now. After he’s been dreaming about this shit for weeks like some idiot love sick teenager.

You break for the deep kiss, running your nose along his as you suck in a ragged breath of air. Your quaking at the intensity of it all. You were only kissing him, and yet your nerve endings felt frayed.

Every time he tries to go to deepen it again, to explore your sweet little mouth once more you stop him. Pecking and nibbling. When you lick the bow of his open mouth he literally growls.

“You’re the worst fucking tease I’ve ever met in my entire life” he accuses. Best kisser though, his brain shoots as an afterthought.

“Mmm” your teeth catch his bottom lip, and you tug at it experimentally “I think you need it”

You’re all but straddling him now, one of your legs throw over his hip as his arms cradle you close to his body, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the back of your thigh.

You forget how strong he is, forget what those Olympic grade muscles he hides under his shirt are capable of so when he flips you both suddenly, manuvering you as though your some skinny little rag doll, he knocks the air out of you.

He smirks down from his new position, holding his elf on his forearms above you.

He presses a kiss againts the corner of your lips “What I need is some relief. Do you know how serious the case of blue balls you’ve been giving me is? You’re killing me smalls”

You chuckle and blush at his words, turning away from his gaze. He takes that as an invitation and noses his way into the exposed side of you neck. You whimper when he begins to kiss at the hyper sensitive flesh there. You always had been a sucker for neck kisses.

When your phone rings, the shrill sound breaks you out of your Lance induced trance.

“Leave it” Lance’s breath his hit againts your ear, and he nips on the lobe to make his point.

“I can’t, it might be work” you press on his shoulder, and he gives only an inch. Only enough so that you can grab you phone. Your still pinned under him.

“Hello? Okay calm down- it’s not the end of the world. Just scratch the batch. What do you mean we’re out of the Madagascarn vanilla? I just ordered some like a month ago- fuck. Okay. No, I won’t be gone too much longer”

Lance sighs as he listens to your conversation, inferring that it’s time for him to move he gets off of you, reluctantly letting you sit up.

“I’m sorry, I left Tracy in charge and she’s new”

You apologize when you get off of the phone. Lance tells you that you have nothing to be sorry for, that he gets it and you lean in to peck him once more.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish” he warns wanting nothing more then you fuck you right here in the middle of this park. You giggle against his mouth.

Right as the sky gives an angry grumble of thunder and lightening streaks across the once sunny horizon.

And, Lance gets his wish from earlier, as it begins to sprinkle light raindrops. He’s cool for a moment, enjoying the pecks you press to his lips before recolonization causes his eyes to snap open.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so fast as he bolts up onto his feet.

“Fuck!” Lance cries “I left my roof down!”

—————————————–

When he drops you back off at the shop, with a final dragging kiss that you have to force yourself to pull away from, he feels better. He really does. He’s surprised just how fucking light he feels- as he watches you sashay back into your shop, shooting him one last smile over your shoulder.

He’s driving back home when his phone dings, he stops at a red light and checks the alert.

Y/N Y/L/N has accepted your friend request.

The one he’d sent literal years ago. Lance snorts and shakes his head. Finally.

Part Seven

—————————————

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @peacefulwriter88 @spookyscaryscully @zombiewerewolfqueen @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @pegasusdragontiger @booklover2929 @ultrafangirl000 @acunningstargazer @curvybihufflepuff @la-meneur-louve @tatathekissypotato @iamwarrenspeace @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @aknerdchick @avinaris @yslbucky @sophiealiice @sebstanwassup @4theluvofall @wildefire @debbielovesbucky @peaceloveancolor @effielumiere @ballerinafairyprincess

Well this chapter ended up being almost 7k! I just couldn’t stop lol. I wanted you guys to get to peek into Lances life, while also keeping him in character. I’m obsessed with the way his and Y/Ns relationship is starting to unfold and I hope you guys are too. Next couple of chapters will be ALOTTA fluff and smut. And I’m thinking I want to wrap this one up soonish? Maybe end it with 10 Parts?

Leave me some feed back and let me know what you guys thought of this one! Love you pretty babies!

#lance tucker x reader #lance tuckerxreader #lance tucker #plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #plus size reader insert #the bronze

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mindlessly-meme · 7 years

Text

Secret Identities

Peter Parker x Reader Request- Hi! Can you do a Spiderman x reader fic where the reader and Spiderman are best friends, but the reader is also Spiderman’s rival? And then they both find out about it? Thank you so much!!! I love your blog :D Warnings- language but what else is new A/n- anon didn’t specify what kind of power they wanted the reader to have, so i just gave them telepathy and teleportation, hope thats ok! Hope you enjoy! ~ You sat at the edge of the building, looking down at the city below. The cool wind blew, causing a shiver to run up your back as you focused all your energy into listening. You could hear the thoughts of every person in the city, just for a fleeting moment, barely registering in your mind before they were gone and the next one came. Nothing so far had caught your attention, until you suddenly heard the frantic thoughts of a woman who sounded like she was getting mugged. You were there in an instant. Before you, there indeed was a woman being robbed, along with two men, one collecting her things and the other pointing a gun at her. “Hey!” You shouted, but there was another voice mixed in there shouting at the same time, and looking over your shoulder to the roof above you, you saw none other than Spiderman. “Hell no.” You muttered, before teleporthing across the street to the woman. You grabbed the man who was holding the gun and spun him around to punch him, only for your raised fist to get yanked back, bringing you along with it. You spun around from the force and nearly fell to the ground. Letting out a growl of irritation, you pulled off the string of sticky webbing stuck to your hand. “You asshole! I was here first!” You shouted at the man in the red suit as you punched the other man who now had one of his hands webbed to the wall, but was thrusting at you with his knife. The woman had taken her things and fled the scene, and the man with the gun had managed to escape when you had been distracted. “I don’t think so. Now just teleport away and let the professionals handle this.” He retorted as he dodged a kick from you while dodging the knife from the man. “You always do this, and I know you do it just to make me mad.” you grunted, finally managing to knock the knife out of his hand you tried to keep him still so Spiderman could web him to the wall, when he shook you off and hit you straight in the jaw. “Now that’s no way to treat a lady,” Spiderman said webbing his hand and both feet to the wall, “But lucky for you, it’s just her.” You glared at him, wiping the blood from your mouth as you stood up, “I would have been fine if you hadn’t distracted me.” You growled. You didn’t have to read his mind to know that he thought you were weak, in fact, you never read his mind. Regardless of your less than friendly feelings towards each other, you respected his privacy. You also didn’t really care who he was, though when you had first met him, you had thought his voice was kinda familiar… But, you and Spiderman had never gotten along. Not since the first moment he had webbed you up thinking you where the bad guy, and thus let the real bad guy escape. “Sure, that’s your problem.” He said sarcastically. Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at him from behind your mask, “You are such a dick. I pity the people that have to spend more than five minutes with you.” You spat, turning to leave when suddenly you felt his webbing on your arm and you were being yanked to his side, nearly falling over from the force. Letting you a yelp, your mind registered the gun shot that had just rang out, and you saw the bullet had just grazed your arm. You were almost shot in the chest. You looked up at the masked man before you, neither of you saying a word, before you clenched your jaw and teleported away. ~ You woke up the next morning to someone knocking at your door. Your head was pounding and your arm hurt from where the bullet had hit last night, so you answered just to get the noise to stop, “What?” “Peter’s here. Should I have him wait downstairs?” Your mom called. “Ugh, no, just send him up.” You yelled back, rolling onto your stomach to hide your face in the pillow. In your moms thoughts, you could hear here thinking about how your room better not be dirty, and you better be dressed. Luckily, both those things were true. A minute later, there was another knock before Peter let himself in, “Hey sleepy head. You know its nearly noon?” You smiled sleepily at the boy before you, also know as Peter Parker, also known as you best friend. You two had been friends since the start of high school, when you both happen to be late to the same class and were pared up as partners for the whole year. “Ya, I know. I’m tired I was up super late last night.” “Tell me about it, me too.” He said, sitting on the end of your bed, “But now it’s time to get up cause there’s this new game out that I want and we are gonna go buy it.” “You say it like I don’t enjoy video game shopping with you.” You laughed, sitting up. He laughed at your bed head and left you to get dressed. In your closet hidden under a pile of various crap, was your suit and mask. Luckily it was black, so you couldn’t see the blood on the arm, but you were not looking forward to having to sew it up tonight. The wound on your arm, while not too deep, still hurt. You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened last night. Your relationship with Spiderman was complicated to say the least. You two hated each other, yet he had still saved you. That of course got you thinking, if the roles were reversed, would you save him? “(Y/n) hurry up!” Peter shouted from downstairs. Shaking the thoughts of your night job out of your mind, you got ready and met Peter downstairs. “Took you long enough,” he chuckled and the two of you stepped outside and began the walk to the mall, “So what kept you up all night?” He asked. “You know, the usual, clubbing, bar hopping, meeting up with random guys.” you stopped at a cross walk and pressed the button. “Wow, and all I did was homework.” Hooking you arm through his as to not get separated in the downtown crowd, you two laughed. Letting out a small sigh, you leaned into your best friend, smiling. You loved what you did at night, and felt a great deal of pride in helping out those who were in danger, but nothing could compare to the little moments like these with your best friend. ~ “Mom! Where did you put my sewing kit?” You shouted, looking through the drawers of your bathroom. “Why?” She yelled back. “Cause I need it!” “What for?” “Mom I swear I’m going to lose it if you don’t-” You suddenly froze, the sound of the tv catching your attention. “Tension is high this evening as an unknown robber is holding a group of bystanders hostage in a bank. It had been reported that he is armed with multiple weapons including some type of bomb.” Grabbing your suit and mask, you pulled it on, “Mom! I’m going out!” Then you were gone. Reappearing behind the bank, you listened in. You could hear terrified thoughts of the hostages and the rushed, almost panicked rambling of a guy who was clearly the robber. You soundlessly entered the bank. The hostages were huddled in a group while the robber filled bags with money from the vault, his back towards you. Quickly you began to teleport the hostages out of the building, it was easier than you expected as the robber was not paying attention. You were down to the last two when you heard the voice of the guy you wanted to see least at this moment, alerting the robber of your presence “Wow, you must be really oblivious to loose a whole group of people without even noticing.” You stood up from your crouched position, “What the fuck dude!” Before the robber could even aim his gun, it was pulled out of his hand with webbing. Rolling your eyes and not bothering to stick around to hear his stupid comment, you took the last two and let them go on the street. You turned, ready to go home and continue your hunt for the sewing kit, when you heard one last thought in your mind. Well, if I’m gonna go down, I might as well take the Spiderman with me. You could see the images being played out in his mind, and without hesitation, you reappeared in the bank, grabbed Spiderman by his waist before teleporting out. You barely made it into the street before the building blew up, throwing you both to the ground. You were stunned, lying face first on the concrete. Your head pounded and your whole body ached. Coughing and groaning, you rolled onto your back. The whole street was filled with smoke, and you could see the bank was up in flames. To your left was Spiderman, also lying still on his back, but you could see his chest rising and falling. “Hey,” you huffed, “Are you conscious?” “Ya, just a little internal bleeding, that’s all.” Despite the circumstances, you smiled as he turned to look at you. But when his masked eyes met yours, you could see him tense up. You instinctively looked behind you, expecting to see someone there, but there was no one. When you turned back to him, he was sitting up. “(Y/n)...?” He breathed out. You gasped, reaching up to find the somehow during the explosion, your mask had fallen off and it lay on the floor a few feet from you, “Oh my god I- wait...you know me?” Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his own mask. “Peter...” you stared at each other, through the smoke, sirens in the background. You couldn’t believe it, your best friend, the guy you told everything, they guy you loved, was the same guy you couldn’t stand? Where did this leave you two? After a moment, you stood up and he followed, leaning on each other for support. His hand found yours, and in that moment you both knew that everything would be ok between you two. That nothing would change, and if anything you would come out of this stronger. “Lets go home.” you mumbled before the two vigilantes disappeared. ~ So i have a lot of peter parker request but i aint even mad i love him so much ugghhh anyways thanks for reading

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter x reader #peter imagine #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #avengers #marvel

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sincelight · 7 years

Text

I'm A Little Awkward, But Most People Like Me

Pairing: Yixing/Baekhyun Rating: pg-13 Genre: online friendship?

Summary: Baekhyun's a little awkward, spends too much time reading smutty gay fanfiction, and doesn't think twice before flying across the country to meet his favorite author.

He’s staring at the screen, the little line blinking, taunting him. He wants to say something. Anything. But what? Is it weird if he just gushes? Can he do that? Hi you don’t know me but I love ur fics and ur a great writer and i think i love you please be my friend. He quickly backspaces. “Definitely can’t send that.”

He lets his head fall onto his desk and pouts. “Come on Baekhyun, you’re a people person, you’re great at making friends. Just say hi.” He takes the bit of courage his little pep talk gives him and hurries to type something, not going back to reread it because he knows he’ll just backspace it all again. He lets out his held breath after hitting send and then hurries to exit out of the site, shutting his laptop and pushing it away from himself. It’s late and he should get to bed anyway, he has work in the morning.

He hates the sound of his alarm. It’s too loud. Each time it goes off, every five minutes for a half-hour straight, he silences it and forces himself not to cry into his pillow. He briefly wonders why his life can’t be like Kai’s in xingie’s latest fic. Why wasn’t he born into a rich family, with the luxury of never having to work a day in his life? He sighs, swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands.

After getting ready it’s a short walk to work, too short. He looks up at the building, the glass window with the stupid purple coffee mug smiling down at him, and is disappointed that, once again, it hasn’t burned down overnight. The sound of the bell chiming when he opens the door annoys him, but one annoyance is quickly replaced with another when his manager, Junmyeon, marches up to him with that overly happy smile on his face.

“You’re late. Again.”

Baekhyun continues walking, thinking that if he ignores him he’ll go away. But Junmyeon only follows behind him, much too close.

“Third time this week, Baek. You need to be—“

“I know, Junmyeon,” he sighs as he ties his apron around his waist. “I know.” Junmyeon gives him a look, the one he uses when customers are being unreasonable, but doesn’t say anything more. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

He’s left alone after that to work. This part of his job he can handle, making coffee is something he’s always enjoyed. Plus, the sounds of the machines drown out potential conversations his coworkers might be tempted to have with him. On more than one occasion he’s turned the blender on specifically to drown out whatever nonsense Sehun was spewing, that kid seems to never stop talking. He’s cute, but god damn.

His first order of the day is a mocha latte and he smiles to himself. It reminds him of a fic by xingie he’d read not too long ago; the main character worked in a coffee shop and his super cute, much too flirty regular always ordered a mocha latte everyday. He’s torn from his daydream when he realizes he’s spilling milk all over the counter and it’s pouring onto the front of his apron. He curses under his breath, quickly grabbing a rag to wipe up his mess. Maybe if xingie actually replies to him he can tell him how he made a mess at work daydreaming about one of his steamy sex scenes from his coffee shop fic. He smiles.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Sehun’s voice calls suddenly, much too close to him. “You’re happy you just spilled milk all over yourself?” Baekhyun shoots Sehun a quick glare and then turns on the empty blender.

By the time he gets to sit down for his lunch break he’s ready to go home. His feet hurt and he looks like he pissed himself and he really just wants to finish the chaptered fic he’d started the night before. He sips from his coffee mug and looks to the clock on the wall above him. Fifteen minutes, thats enough time to at least get in half a chapter. So he pulls his phone out and quickly loads up the site, tapping on his subscriptions and smiling to himself.

It’s been a long read. He’s spent most of his free time for the better part of a week reading this fic. It’s by xingie, so of course it’s amazing, but this one. This one is it. This one is everything Baekhyun’s been looking for in a fic. He’s cried twice, gotten so angry at the main character he’s slammed his laptop shut, and had to stop reading to masturbate once. Okay, twice. Okay, it was three times, but xingie just knows how to write some good sex. Baekhyun pouts, he wishes he was having good sex. He sighs, rolls his eyes and refocuses. Ten minutes, start reading, he tells himself.

He’s just about to get to the part where Kai finally, finally, confesses to the short, big-eyed boy of his dreams when someone kicks his foot. He holds his breath to keep a shout in, because he’d rather not get in trouble. So he settles for an annoyed, “What?” Junmyeon doesn’t speak, just holds his wrist up to tap at the face of his watch. Oh, Baekhyun thinks, my break ended twenty minutes ago. He throws a charming smile Junmyeon’s way as he scrambles to his feet and rushes back to work.

He groans the entire walk home. Junmyeon had sat him down after work to explain to him the importance of punctuality. Sure, he drowned most of it out, but still annoying nonetheless. He unlocks his door and steps inside, “I’m not a child,” he pouts.

His apartment is small, but he has a cat so it’s okay. And, just like everyday, Socks the cat is sleeping in a little furry ball, curled up on the tattered old couch his friend Taehyung gave him as a move in gift. He curls up in a similar ball around Socks and pulls his phone out to finally finish what he’d started at work. “Alright Kai, lets see you finally admit your feelings.”

The message notification is a little unexpected, no one ever messages him. And then he remembers his half-asleep, 3am message to xingie.

From xingie: Hey, thanks for the message! I’m glad you’re enjoying my fics… it’s kinda cool to get like, fan mail. I’ve actually noticed you’ve left me a few comments before so thanks for that! Hope to hear back from you!

Baekhyun stares at his phone, rereads the message a few times, and then screeches into the couch cushion. Socks gets up and gives him a dirty look before rearranging himself at the opposite end of the couch. “Sorry,” he says, then hops up to sit cross-legged. “What do I say back?” he speaks aloud, looking at his reflection in his dark tv screen. “How do I reply without sounding creepy?”

From dontcallmebacon: Wow, okay. I kinda didn’t expect you to reply to me. I figured you must get a lot of messages because your fics are so good. Um, I don’t really know what to say now. I almost sent you a message yesterday telling you I think I love you, but I didn’t. I really love your last fic, Coffee House. I’m almost finished reading it right now. I got in trouble at work today trying to read instead of working. So thats your fault lol. Anyway, thanks for replying!

He hits send without thinking and immediately regrets. “Oh my god, I’m such a fucking creeper.”

From dontcallmebacon: Also I’m sorry for how creepy that message probably came out I literally just rambled on accident. I promise I’m not usually this awkward.

After this, they end up chatting regularly. Xingie, Baekhyun learns, is actually really cool. They eventually exchange Tumblr information and begin following each other. Messaging there is just much easier, and a lot faster. Baekhyun may or may not stalk through Xingie’s blog, trying to find pictures to put a face to the name. He’s cute, he’s really cute. Like, holy hell what a time to be alive and gay, please Jesus let him be gay, kinda cute. He spends only a very reasonable hour digging deeper to find more pictures, learning his name is Yixing and that he’s not only cute but he’s sexy as hell when he wants to be. Baekhyun may or may not totally save a black and white picture of him biting his lip to his computer.

dontcallmebacon: you're a guy

xingie: i am, yes xingie: is that bad?

dontcallemebacon: no i just… i guess i was expecting like a girl. since you know… its usually girls that write fics.

xingie: i can assure you there are plenty of guys that write fics. xingie: why do you think i have such extensive knowledge of anal? lol

Baekhyun has to sit back from his computer, hands still resting on the keys as he thinks. Is that Yixing’s way of telling him he’s gay? Because well, Baekhyun’s gay. Baekhyun is very gay and Yixing is very cute. And, “No, quit that. Quit that right now.”

dontcallmebacon: youre really cute

Baekhyun mentally kicks himself, physically slams his head onto his desk. That is totally not what he was wanting to say. He hurries to try and save the situation.

dontcallmebacon: i mean like i saw a picture of yu and youre cuet not that i was like stalkinh you or antyhing dontcallmebacon: wow that makes it sound liek i WAS stalking you which i wasnt i swear!

Baekhyun waits, watching the chat box, hoping he didn’t just freak Yixing out. It feels like hours, days, years that he waits for a reply.

xingie: so basically what ur saying is you stalked my blog?

dontcallmebacon: NO! dontcallmebacon: ok yes i did but i just wanted to see what you looked like

xingie: ….you think im cuuuuuuuuute ^.^ xingie: send me a picture of you now, its only fair

Baekhyun almost spits up his drink. Yixing wants a picture of him? He quickly goes through his facebook, trying to find the cutest picture of himself he can. He chooses one and sends it and waits for a reply, playing some dumb game on Facebook to distract himself.

xingie: cute

A few months go by like this, Baekhyun regularly chatting with Yixing nearly all day and all night. Well, until he has to go to sleep before Yixing, timezones be damned. They learn a lot about each other in a short amount of time. They have a shared love for photography, food, animals and more importantly, BTS. They discover they have the same bias and ultimately decide, jokingly of course, that they must be soulmates.

Baekhyun gets in trouble more often at work now. Showing up late more days than not because he decided to stay up much too late to chat with Yixing. Spending too much time looking at his phone instead of paying attention to his work. He makes Yixing laugh when he tells him that he’s solely responsible for the new no phones policy at work.

xingie: i cant wait to meet you

Baekhyun leans back and just stares. They’ve been talking for three months now and sure, the thought of actually meeting Yixing has crossed his mind, but he never thought Yixing was thinking the same thing. He smiles to himself and runs his fingers over the keys.

dontcallmebacon: really?

xingie: uh yea duh youre fuckin awesome why wouldnt i wanna meet you?? xingie: unless ur a serial killer….. are u a serial killer???

dontcallmebacon: i feel like thats what a serial killer would say to make someone think theyre not a serial killer… dontcallmebacon: are YOU a serial killer??

xingie: i would never kill you xingie: might kiss you tho

Baekhyun feels his heart skip. His mouth falls open into a small smile as he types his response.

dontcallmebacon: you want to kiss me?

xingie: have you seen you? like youve seen how cute you are, right? xingie: id totally kiss you

dontcallmebacon: well.. i never said id let you so..

xingie: would you let me?

Baekhyun’s smile widens and he bites into his bottom lip.

dontcallmebacon: totally

Baekhyun is wheezing as he throws himself into his computer chair; it rolls sideways and he catches himself with a hand on the edge of his desk. He opens his laptop with one hand, the other holding onto the cramp in his side, and quickly signs into Tumblr. As he’s waiting for his shitty internet to do its job he tries to catch his breath. “I need to start working out, jesus christ, it was only three blocks”.

He was at work when he got the notification. BTS was announced as one of the artists in the lineup for Kcon in LA this year. He likes BTS. Yixing likes BTS. Yixing lives in LA. It was so exciting and overwhelming all he could think to do was sprint the three blocks from his work to his apartment. He needed to talk to Yixing immediately.

The site finally loads and he has seven messages. Yixing already knows, he thinks to himself. And, sure enough, he opens the chat box to see a barrage of all caps, frantic messages.

xingie: KCON xingie: BTS KCON EMRGENCY REPLY TO MEEEEEE xingie: BAEK FUKCING REPLY TO ME YOU DICKBAG xingie: BAKHYUNNNNNMNN HURRY IM DYNING xingie: BTSSSS BAEK PAY ATTENTION TO ME xingie: GOD DAMN IT BTS AT KCON IM SCREECHING AND UR IGNORING ME xingie: IF YUO DONT REPLY TO ME THIS FRIENDSAHIP IS OVERR

dontcallmebacon: I WAS AT WORK IM SRORRY!!!!!! dontcallmebacon: are you gonna go? to kcon?? BTS????

xingie: thank fuck i thought u were dead xingie: uhmmm obviously im gonna go! bts in my city omgg

dontcallmebacon: im so jealous tell hobi i love him for me

xingie: dude just fly out here xingie: FLY OUT HERE AND MEET ME AND SEE BTS OMG YESS xingie: baek u gotta

Baekhyun reads the message over and over, thinking about it. He has extra money. He has time he can take off work. Why shouldn’t he fly out to LA? He’s always wanted to go. He’d get to see BTS and kiss a cute boy. He quickly checks his bank account, looks at a calendar, and then switches back to Tumblr.

dontcallmebacon: fuck it.. im in

I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. Baekhyun repeats this in his head as he watches his mother walk away from him. She drove him to the airport so he wouldn't have to leave his car, and now she’s leaving. He’s never flown before and he’s moderately terrified. Where does he go? What does he do with his luggage? How does he get to his plane? A large group of people wearing matching shirts passes him, chatting animatedly in a foreign language and he’s jealous. He wishes he had thirty other people around him to tell him what to do. He looks at his phone to check the time. What if he misses his plane? He begins walking faster.

It takes a little time, getting into the wrong line two separate times, but he finally figures out what he has to do. He checks his bag, gets his ticket and then, sighs. “Another line,” he whines, looking over at security. This line moves faster. Each step he takes closer he begins to panic just a little more. He wishes Yixing was awake so he could message him, but it’s like 2am in LA right now, so he’s stuck with nothing but his own thoughts. He takes another step forward, heart beating fast. He begins running through everything in his head, everything he’d packed in his carryon. What if they find something I shouldn't have and I go to airport jail, he thinks.

He makes it through security, only slightly scarred for life, and from there it’s smooth sailing.

By the time he lands in Vegas for his connecting flight he’s starving and so ready to just be in California. He sits down to eat and excitedly messages Yixing, knowing he’ll finally be up.

dontcallmebacon: im in vegas now, coolest airport ever

xingie: ahhhhhhh so close!!! xingie: im so excited ur almost heeeeere

dontcallmebacon: i knowww i just wanna get there already dontcallmebacon: also i’ll have u know i only cried a little at the airport before i left dontcallmebacon: i had a brief hour of panic but im good now

xingie: lol nice xingie: well only a couple more hours left and then you'll be here

Baekhyun notices the time across the top of his phone and his eyes widen. He shoves the rest of his food in his mouth and quickly chugs the rest of his drink.

dontcallmebacon: gotta go, plane leaves in twenty and im at the opposite end of the airport eating. dontcallmebacon: ill message you when i land in la!

When Baekhyun lands he messages Yixing like he said he would and sets off to find his bag. He realizes, pretty quickly, that he has no idea how to find his bag. He wanders aimlessly, he thinks he’s following the signs correctly; he turns around because he was going the wrong way, but finally, he finds baggage claim.

He drags his bag behind him to wait outside. And then, he gets nervous. What if he’s awkward? What if Yixing doesn’t like him? What if Yixing isn't really coming and this was just a big elaborate joke and now he’s stranded all alone in California? He shakes his head, knowing he’s just being dramatic. A black car slows and stops in front of him, he gulps. Yixing steps out, tall, handsome, exactly how Baekhyun pictured him. He lets out a weird breathy chuckle as Yixing steps up to him, a little dimple in his cheek as he smiles.

“Hi.”

Baekhyun licks his lips, his mouth is dry. “Hi.”

Yixing smiles again, looks from Baekhyun’s face to his bag. “You want me to take your—“

“Kiss!”

Yixing’s eyebrows raise, his mouth forms a little ‘o’. “What?”

“Kiss,” Baekhyun repeats, physically unable to stop the word vomit. “Kiss me.”

Yixing’s lips twitch, trying to keep the smile from forming. He grabs Baekhyun’s bag and tosses it into the trunk of his car, turning back to Baekhyun after. He laughs and ruffles Baekhyun’s hair playfully. Baekhyun’s heart stops when Yixing leans forward, lips pursed, and presses their lips together quickly.

“Welcome to California,” Yixing says with a laugh as he walks to the driver’s side and opens the door. “And, nice to finally meet you.”

Baekhyun stares with his mouth open as Yixing gets into the car. He licks his lips and lets out an awkward laugh. The window rolls down and Yixing leans over, hand pulling the handle to push open the door. “You coming?”

Baekhyun smiles and nods, pulls the door open and gets in. He looks at Yixing with a bright smile as he buckles, “Lets do this.”

@seonweon-sonyeondan for you. looooooove you

#exo #exo fics #exo drabble #yixing #lay #baekhyun #laybaek #baekxing #baekxing fic #drabble

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beccawastaken · 7 years

Text

My life summarized Pt. 1...

I started this blog cause there is always so much in my head, it moves at the speed of light, some of it makes complete and utter sense, some of it sounds great til the very second it rolls off my tongue and then sounds nothing like it did in my head, some of it is just random nonsensical stuff that seems to have fallen off a stand up comedians cue cards and straight into the part of my psyche that prefers her own lyrics. It makes it very hard to focus on one task to completion, I even tend to put down my guitar and journal for months on end...so sad!

I must admit that I have worked my ass off to try to make some kind of sense of it all and now when I am unable to rather than let frustration take over I tend to find my random head ramblings amusing. I mean it is often a frustrated, shaking my head at myself kind of amusing but still...baby steps right?

Sometimes the thoughts can be so intense and so rapid that its overwhelming and it takes every ounce of my strength not to scream til it stops. At its worst its almost like there are so many thoughts moving so quickly that it can sound like a constant high pitch buzz in my head. Super exhausting, and difficult to explain to those around you. People tell me to just go to sleep...ever tried sleeping with a shop vac on or inside a construction site? That would be comparable to this, plus, sleeping also isn't my forte so I’m double fucked so to speak.

The human mind and psyche intrigues me to no end. The way it works, and how the basic brain functions are the same across society yet our perception and the cogs and wheels inside each skull are as unique as our deoxyribonucleic acid. For each and every one of us, the way we tick can be vastly different from one another, from the person beside you on the bus, to that guy you’ve worked with for years to a lover or spouse and often really have no way of knowing. I mean how often do we turn to each other and say “can we talk about how your brain works?” We just take for granted that it does and don’t give it a second thought.(haha you will come to notice my love for puns)

Its the intricate differences between us that keep me interested in this self sabotaging species, I mean really, Earth doesn’t need humans to survive, in fact it may be better off without us! Who knows, what I do know is that while im here on this seemingly massive planet im going to make the most of it.

I have a wicked sense of humour (ask anyone haha) and I enjoy messing with people (in a jovial way of course). Im talking like practical joke type of messing with people, light, innocent funny shit. I have been referred to as a brain ninja...I took it as a compliment, however, when you are on the receiving end its possible that it isnt nearly as enjoyable. I do my best not to be mean (I said I do my best, I am not perfect) cause you know, I’m no psycho, although some will attest to that statement not being true, I have honed my inner psycho and now only use her when absolutely necessary. Like if some douchelord crosses one of my angels or my grandson. Then my wrath should be feared, simple enough right? (WOW that escalated quickly! O_O)

I just do not want to waste my life, I spent so much of it not knowing how to handle daily life, assuming (naturally cause why wouldn’t I as a single child raised by someone that constantly blamed others and the world for her problems) that everyone’s mind worked the same, everybody deals with the racing and loops of thoughts you cant kick, or falls asleep with a song stuck in they’re head and wakes up and it starts again as if paused. Every morning. (Don’t drop that duh duh duh....grrr) For days! I mean doesn't everybody worry about every move they make, and lay in bed with they’re eyes closed trying to sleep and checking the clock twenty minutes later only to find SURPRISE, its been three hours! Or this relentless saviour complex I have, I can solve almost anyone's problem or at least help them find a path they are more comfy with but for years when it came to mine, I just couldn’t. This is just a few of the things i deal with or have been forced to deal with this life, Im sure i will touch on more.

I have my children to thank for helping me learn how to deal with my version of life and not giving up on me when I know it would have been easier at times. (Dont drop that duhduhduh....ugh) I want to be honest in this blog, I pride myself on my honesty yet shy away from the darker, not so beautiful sides of who I am as if they don’t exist to the outside world. The thing is, I do not look sick, in fact I look great, besides a few extra pounds. My illness is not a physical one yet it has complete control from the inside out a lot of the time. I work very hard on a daily basis so I do not look like I am falling apart.

I feel emotions at a much higher level than the majority of humanity, I know this now. I don’t feel a lil bit of anything, if im sad, im so sad that even just being in my presence can break your heart. If something good happens and I feel a twinge of joy, I literally have to physically hold myself still sometimes cause it will surge like a lightening bolt through me and often some strange squeak comes out, fingers fully extended as if the energy just exploded form my core and out my extremities. Then, just as fast as it surges it disappears and there I am a woman bordering forty with this maniacal smile on my face like the joker and hair standing up like the professor from Back to The Future. Its quite a sight I am sure, and as much as it has been really hard to work with this side of myself I would rather be inside looking out and have to fix my hair then the onlookers forced to decide between the choice to ask if I am alright or back away slowly. Same with anger, although we have a bit of a deeper connection than other emotions, yea, thats right, we tight. Let me explain...or try;

I like to think my anger trigger point was when grandpa died, but looking back that is ridiculous, I was pissed at both my parents for what they put me through during the divorce but refused to take it out on them, they were in enough pain, they couldn't see it but i sure could. When I am angry I scare people, I seem to fear nothing (not sure if that’s brave or not) and once I am angry there is no going back, I am completely incorrigible, illogical and refuse to listen. I have scared off men twice my size, not with violence of the physical kind, my verbal violence can be so articulated that I honestly think some people are scared to the core. I have shocked myself at times and thats not easy. Once I realized that I was growing into my version of the hulk I had to do something, I was starting to hate everyone and everything.

I started replacing the empty yet extremely fucked up (for lack of a better word) threats with just simply making light of what it was that triggered me, albeit in an aggressive manner however it has proven effective in attempting to analyze what set me off and try to stop the rage fuelled rant.

I really wanted to give you an example but as I was trying to find one it proved difficult so im gonna call that progress. Anyway this venting became humorous to those around me, they all knew me so well that they would turn they’re heads and try not to laugh (ever been laughed at when your livid? its not cool, same as if are upset and someone says ‘calm down’ calm down, CALM DOWN?! like fuck off n all if you honestly believe im not trying, you think i wanna feel this way? like this is some kind of sick joke for me? pfft people!) in an attempt to not be caught in the crossfire of my verbal war.

At first this angered me too (go figure, Hulkbitch) then one day, someone laughed and I took a step back and thought about what I had said and started laughing. Clearly my loved ones weren't laughing at my agony, but the words and descriptions i used to figure it out did tend to be funny. It takes a lot for me to get angry like that now, if I do tho, I still vent with sarcastic wit and make myself laugh to bring myself out of it.

I think I have myself in line pretty well now, I guess I should give some history here, I was a very happy child on the outside but a ball of nerves within, my mother was extremely mentally ill (which i did not know til after her passing) and my father was a violent alcoholic. Luckily I was sheltered from the worst of what they put each other through as they separated when I was 2, but fought and fought and fought over me for nine years. My mum would insist dad never wanted me he just didn't want her to have me, said that I was never good enough in his eyes cause he wanted a boy. Dad, would point out the homeless lady pushing all her belongings in a shopping cart and say “hey kid, thats where your mum is headed, just you watch”. I know now they were just dealing in their own ways with what was happening between them but it really messed with me.

My father, my daddy, quit drinking not long after the separation, i to this day believe that he did this not only for himself but for me, to show me that no matter what you can make changes, just gotta face the problem head on and deal with it so you can move past it. He was always a tough, vulgar, strong, stubborn, hilarious and short lil french man with an ego the size of Goliath. He taught me not to take shit from anyone if I believed in the topic at hand and to learn to turn a cold shoulder when needed. Emotions were not discussed, Im not even sure to this day if I can remember him ever saying I love you, but he didn’t have to, I know he did.

Mum had her own ways of dealing over the years, she was all emotion, raw and uncut. She would always react first, think later, which meant she felt the need to apologize a lot. For her mistake, for not being good enough, for not doing well enough this was so hard to watch. She would repeat the same self defeating patterns she had been doing her whole life and expecting things to change. Definition if insanity much? shitty part is back then they had no fucking idea what insanity was, nor did they care to look. Had someone just took her side and spoke for her she would still be here, if only she was honest with me about how sick she was, I may never have gotten as sick as I did. She thought she was protecting me...

This woman was the sun to my moon and I loved her more than words can ever express. She never believed me when I said it, she always said right up til the end that nobody ever loved her. I know this was not true cause I figured my dad wouldn't get so mad about stuff if he didn't care, the opposite of love is not hate, its indifference. Mum was always in and out of the hospital and it was super hush hush, I assumed she had cancer. I was petrified to lose her, so I didn’t ask questions, just waited.

The custody battle went on and on, I remember my dad pushing our 1970somthing car up the street for some reason, didn't phase me much. I just said “oh look theres my daddy, he looks mad!”. We went to Expo ‘86 in British Columbia and mum was subpoena’d to come back to the prairies for court immediately, so she had to leave her vacation just to go back and find out it was remanded. They were both so angry all the time, I thought it was my fault...had I not been there there would be nothing left to fight about right?

Okay so divorce was finalized when I was 11...Grandma and grandpa (mums side) loved the shit out of me too, ive seen pics of gramma in the military which made sense as I grew up as to why she was so tough but she must have been retired by time I was born. They bought an old ‘70s van and converted it into beds in the back, a table and even a port a potty! They lovingly got personalized plates with my name and the number “2″ after it. They took really good care of me, always loved me and wanted what was best.

I remember around 10yrs old I realized my initials were B.S. and I was not impressed at all as not one word that came out my mouth (at that age) was BS. I was insulted and wanted it changed, plus I knew it would make mum happy if I changed my name to hers. The divorce was finalized my initials were changed to B.J....JUST in time for puberty, (woooooooo) yeah, didn't live that one down for a very long time.

My reason for bringing up my grandparents is so that you all know that aside from this somewhat bleak story thus far, I had many people that loved me, including mum and dad, they just preferred to fight about it.

Shit, fuck, damn, I just had a memory, not a good one but I spoz thats why our brains block things out eh? I do not know how this came about, my mother was very abused growing up and it took a toll on her. I remember mum and the grandparents fighting, i remember gramma telling mum to get her head out of her ass and i remember trying to picture that...I was not going to be seeing them for a while til things cooled down.

Mum was sure that my grandpa had molested me, I am not going to say it didn’t happen but as far as I can recall my grandpa was the sweetest most loving man ever. anyway, mum was questioning me, yelling, badgering me and generally acting crazy i spoz, this was before I know what that looked like. She kept asking inches from my face if he had done anything to me and i maintained that he hadn’t. Finally hours later I was tired and hungry and she was clearly still psychotic she yelled at me are you sure (for the millionth time) I finally yelled out “fine, he did it!” I had no idea what he had done, or when, cause i wasn't there i just wanted her to stop. She was making herself crazy and it broke my heart. I didn't see my grandparents again for three years. Grandpa had gone senile and was not himself, didnt remember close family members etc. When I got there, I ran in the house and we met at the doorway, me at the bottom of the entrance stairs and him at the top. I smiled, and he looked at me puzzled, then started crying, then laughing then crying. I was so glad he got to remember me. I missed him so much.

This was all before I was even a teenager. Grandpa died not long after he was put in a care home cause gramma wasn't able to care for him. His death was my first experience with such a thing, I had no way of knowing how to deal with a loss like this...so I guess I just didn’t.

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