#lance tuckerxreader

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Chapter Seven

A/N: I just want to write this story for the rest of my life. I love Lance Tucker man. I really truly do.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing. Fluff. A mild moment of triggering body insecurity. Lance Tuckery(hah).

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.

💘💘💘💘💘

Your pretty sure your dating Lance Tucker.

There’s a thought you never imagined would cross your mind. It feels alien just thinking it, but it was your reality. The last few weeks had been some kind of hazy day dream, full of intense touches and hot kisses and conversations that lasted for hours. You really couldn’t believe that it was even happening.

That’s what your telling Courtney as you two idly make your way through Target, your carts quickly filling up with various bullshit. When you’d only come to grab a pack of cupcake liners.

“So you guys are screwing?” Courtney inquires. She cant deny, she’s not thrilled about this whole thing. She still thinks Lance is a total ass hat, douche bag and that he wasn’t worthy of your time or your trust…but she did trust you. She knew you were more then capable of making your own decisions. All she could do was support you and hope that this thing between the two of you didn’t end in flames like she feared it would.

“No, that’s the crazy part. I haven’t had sex with him yet” You laugh at her wayward, unbelieving look that she shoots you.

“Bullshit” She drawls out the word.

“I’m dead serious. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s gotten heavy-”

“Like how heavy? Bj’s heavy?”

“No, more like a lot of dry humping. Like, a lot-”

“What are you? Fifteen?” Court deadpans, her nose scrunched as she looks as pasta sauces.

“You’d be surprised how intense that can get and Lance is very…sensitive. It’s too easy to make that man cum in his pants” She lets out a shrill fit of giggles and you try to contain your own “And I let him finger me the other day but that’s about it”

Courtney’s a little confused. It seems like you might really like the guy, and yet you hadn’t slept with him yet. She’d never known you to be a prude, there had to be a reason. “So why aren’t you doing the do with him then?”

“I just- I don’t know. I feel like once I really cave and give him what he wants it wont be the same anymore, you know? Like right now he likes me because I tell him no, and I like him because he keeps coming after me after I tell him no. It’s kind of a game of cat and mouse and I don’t want the game to end” You admit your fears in the simplest way you can word them.

“Have you talked to him about it? Your both adults, I think that it should probably be a topic of conversation” Courtney advises, her voice comforting yet firm.

“And what am I going to say? ‘Hey, Lance, I know you like to ditch girls after you sleep with them and I’m not trying to be one of them’?”

“Yeah, exactly. Let him know the boundaries of the relationship” Courtney can see the confliction in your eyes.

“Ugh. You know they say dating is supposed to get easier as you get older but it’s still just as hard” you whine. Thirty, flirty and thriving your ass.

“Well you waited long enough. You haven’t dated anyone since Eric” It hurts less, to hear his name you realize. If anyone had mentioned your ex boyfriend a couple of years ago you definitely would have winced. Now it kind of just went over your head. You felt pretty silly about it.

“Well we all cant be serial daters like you, Court” She’d literally been in relationships since middle school. Long ones, that lasted years. She’d been with her current boyfriend for seven or so years now. It was quite obvious Courtney didn’t like to be alone, she just wasn’t programmed that way.

“I take great offence to that” She quips at you “But onto bigger and better conversations. How excited are you for the interview tomorrow? What are you wearing?”

You adore the thrilled squeal in her voice. But honestly, you were more nervous then anything. This interview was big for you and Cake Faced, could be a tipping point for your small business. And although you’d always been good at talking to people, you couldn’t help but be shitted just thinking about it.

The rest of your Target trip with your best is spend planning your outfit for the next day to the T.

—————————-

Your up before the sun the next day, even though you’d popped a few sleeping pills the night before. You cant help it, your internal clock is wound tight in anticipation. So you take your time getting ready, spending hours perfecting you hair and makeup and then making a large, over decadent breakfast that you no way could eat yourself. You tend to cook when your nervous. Or sad. Or angry. It was just what you did, tried to pour the anxiety out of you. You end up packing the eggs benedict into containers, you’d bring them to work and feed the staff.

You check yourself over in the mirror, applying one last coat of neon-red orange lipstick and checking out your reflection. You’d chosen a sleeveless top. Because the weather was warm. Fuck if your arms looked large and jiggly in them, you tell yourself. You look damn good, and your determined to make a damn good impression. Confidence. Originality. Hard work. Those we’re your words that you had lived by and if you were going to be printed in the pages of a magazine, you were going to make sure they shined through. You with one last tousle of your hair, your out of the door. Walking tall in your heels.

After priming and primping the shop to look just how you want it to, you wait for the journalist. She’d said she’d be arriving at about 11 or so, so you did have some time to kill.

You prep the cupcakes your featuring, show casing. The Cookie Monster, The Lemon drop and the Red Velvet Classic. You want the batch’s to be perfect, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself to make them, so donning an apron you get to work. Your deep in concentration, squinting through one eye with and biting your lip when you hear a knocking on the doorway.

You look up and you cant help but smile.

“Hey there” Lance’s leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his broad chest as he watches you. He had been for a few minutes, before he’d decided to make his presence known. You just looked so cute, focusing all hard like that.

“Hi” You grin, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes himself from the door frame, coming towards you in long legged strides so that he can press a kiss to your lips “I had to come wish you luck, didn’t I?” he mumbles against your mouth and you sigh, leaning up on your heels, wanting more.

“Why thank you sir”

He pulls away first, his thumb coming to swipe at the corner of your lips, assuring that your pretty lipstick stayed in place. He’d had his fair share of interviews, he knew how important it was to keep your appearances. “You look nice”

Your chest swells at the way he says it, his sapphire eyes appraising you as they swept over your body “You think?”

“Mmhmm I do” He says cheekily, as his palm planes up your side, skimming your waist, coming up to cup the side of your breast. You exhale shakily and lean against him, your arms twining around his neck as you soaked up the gentle attention he was giving you. You loved this side of him, the gentle needy touches. The affection. It turned you to jelly because truly, you’d never thought he was capable of it.

Lance loves the soft feeling of your body under his hands, he wants to dip under your top, feel the bare skin but he refrains(just barley), not wanting to wrinkle your outfit. It was funny, he thinks. That you were the one doing interviews, your face going to be posted in magazines and he was the one all but hiding from the media. When the story of the gym had dropped on CNN; it had been a shit storm, just like he knew it would be. It would have been hell for him, if it wasn’t for you. You stuck close to his side through it all…he kept thinking you might bolt. Might retreat, go back to hating him. Like everyone else seemed to.

The least he could do was not get you all flustered before you had to go out and be professional.

He had really been a big help with all of this, he’d told you how it was going to go. To be the charming little shit that you were. He used that coach tone that made your panties wet too, which was an added plus.

“I should go” Lance says, checking his watch. He knew the magazine would be there to set up soon and he didn’t want to be at the shop when they arrived “Good luck, baby cakes. You’re going to do fine, just feed them a few of those cupcakes and flash those pearly whites and you’ll be set” He assures but you don’t want him to let go of your waist.

“What are you doing later tonight?” You ask him, holding his bicep.

“Mmm, I was hoping you” Lance’s tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip in a way that makes your heart pound with what your about to say next.

“Charming” You tease, poking at his arm muscle “What about if you come over to my place? I could make you dinner? There might be a little wine involved?” A little more then wine, you don’t say it. But your eyes do.

“I’ll fucking be there” Lance says quickly and you chuckle “You need me to bring anything?”

“No. I’ll stop at the grocery store before I go home. Just bring your appetite and that cute ass of yours” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins.

“That I can do” He beams, giving you a wink, before he’s out of the door.

Your heart flutters uneasily and you shake your shoulders in excitement before going back to your cupcakes.

—————————————–

The interview goes well, fuck it goes more then well if you do say so yourself. The interviewer is a bright, bubbly intuitive woman and the two of you talk about a range of subjects: from how social media had helped to kick start your business, to what it was like to be under thirty and be your own boss. You crack jokes, you show case your sweets, you plaster on the charm. You take some awesome pictures; the photographer had set up amazing lighting in the shop. You wondered if you could set up that kind of lighting in your bathroom, it would really up your selfie game. When they leave the shop you feel accomplished and bold and electric.

A lot like you felt the day you’d put the down payment on your store, signed the lease and gotten the keys.

It was such a rush! It might be bad thing, the way power amped you up…

After doing a happy jig with Shane who was taking the managers shift for the day, you decide you might as well head to the market and get your shopping done. You wrack your brain for recipes as you head there on foot, deciding not to waste how the gorgeous afternoon weather. It was only a few blocks…or ten. Yeah, you kind of regret it when your pumps start to pinch your toes but whatever. Your still riding that adrenalin rush.

All the way through the isles of Walt’s grocery store, collecting ingredients and grinning like a mad woman.

“What’s got you so happy, little miss?” La'tecia queries as she checks you out. Your glowing, looking radian. She doesn’t think she’d seen you look like this in years. Most days you we’re so tired, your everyday life draining you of that bright light that now gleamed in your eyes. You looked a lot like you did when you’d come with your mama every weekend to buy candies by the pound.

You tell her about the magazine and the interview and when she tells you how proud your mother and grandmother would have been of you, you attempt to compartmentalize it, to suck down the emotion that burns your nose.

“Don’t go making me cry, I worked really hard on this makeup, okay!” You laugh it off.

“You planning on celebrating tonight?”

“Something like that” Your lips quirk as she rings up not one, but two bottles of white wine.

“With someone special?” The knowing look she gives you isn’t discreet. She’d heard the rumors, even though she tried her very best to steer clear of poisonous gossip. Lance Tucker had been the talk of the town since he’d come home, but since his face had been plastered all over the nightly news, he’d been the talk of the nation. The scandal of it all was insane, and to top it off, everyone was buzzing about how you two had been spending a lot of time together… The Olympic athlete and the fat girl. Who'da thunk?

“Eh” You tease, shrugging your shoulders but then you giggle “Yeah, he’s special I guess”

When your done paying, taking the bags in your hand she spits some real life truth at you.

“Not as special as you, Y/N. Don’t forget that”

Those words would stick with you for the rest of your life.

—————————————–

Your phone is sandwiched between your cheek and your shoulder as you stand at your stove, working between pans of simmering food. Music blares through the speakers and your hips sway to the music as you cook.

“You coming soon? I’ve almost got dinner ready?”

“Yeah, I have to do something first, but I should be there in a half an hour-ish?” Lance replies over the phone and you huff excitedly.

“Mmm, good. I might be a little bit excited to see you” You stir at the vegetables. You were definitely excited. The matching lace bra and panty set you’d changed into was a big indicator of the fact. You felt devilish knowing they sat, waiting for him, under your clothes.

“Yeah? You going to be nice to me tonight?” his words are dripping with anticipation.

“If you earn it” you quip. Knowing that you weren’t really going to make him wait. If anything- you’d be jumping his bones as soon as he walked through that door. You’d been torturing yourself as much as you’d been torturing him with this whole “hard to get” act and you were done with it. You wanted it. Wanted to be his. Wanted to let him have whatever he wanted.

You squeezed your thighs together just at the thought of it.

“Fuck- your going to kill me. Okay, baby, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll be there soon”

“I’ll be waiting”

“Naked?”

You shake your head, looking at your celling. Lord, help me.

This. Fucking. Man.

“No- but I made some really good food for you so there’ll be that”

“Thank fuck, I haven’t eaten all day…you going to let me eat that pretty pussy of yours too?”

You squeak at his forwardness. Even though it was nothing new. He was one crass motherfucker and had been whispering the dirtiest shit into your ear for weeks.

“We’ll see. Drive safe, Lance” when you hang up, you reach for your glass of wine and take a swig, hoping that it might help quell the bubbles of nervousness in your stomach. Shocker, it doesn’t. If anything it makes them worse.

So does the next glass.

As you wait for Lance, the minutes ticking by. You’d finished dinner, and had it low simmering so that it would still be warm when he got there…

If he ever got there.

Because thirty minutes roll by.

And then forty five.

And then an hour…

You send him texts. Asking him where he is? Is he close? Did he get lost?

You cant help it, the dread that sets in. The way your mind clouds with doubt and fear. He’d blown you off. He’d bullshitted you. Had this been a mistake?

The reasonable side fights your insecurities.

Bitch, he’s done nothing but try since he got back it hisses at you. You need to stop being a crazy, insecure child.

You drown both of them with wine. Your sitting at your kitchen table, feeling a little more then a little crestfallen as you talk to your dog.

“You know what, if he doesn’t show, I cant even be mad. I mean I will be fucking pissed, don’t get me wrong. But mostly at myself. Because do people ever really change?” You speak to the lapdog as though he’s a human being. He was the smartest person you’d ever met you decide. He looks at you with unamused beady eyes.

“And I’ve always been so stu-”

The sound of the doorbell stops you in your tracks. You hop up from the chair and have to force yourself not to run to the door. Be cool. Be calm.

Told you so, your reasonable side shoots at you as you open the door.

Lance is standing there, in your door way. His lip is bloody and his right eye looks like its just starting to swell up.

“Lance?” You gasp.

“Hi baby” He holds up the expensive looking bottle of scotch he’d brought to 'the party’ “Sorry I’m late”

——————————————–

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Okay…don’t hate me. I had planned on making this chapter the one. The glorious smut filled one. But then I was like lemme’ hit them with some angst and I ended up with this. THE SMUT IS COMING. LET ME REPEATE. THE SMUT IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER. I’ll see you hookers then! Leave me some love, I love on you guys comments.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Part Two

A/N: Okay guys I’m SO into this story. I can’t wait for you guys to see what I have planned.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Cursing. Like a motherfucker. Because this is a story about Lance Tucker. Mention of slight fat shaming. Drinking and driving (which is stupid, don’t even try kiddo’s)

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.

💘💘💘💘💘

It had all started a couple weeks ago.

When Courtney, your best friend of nearly two decades, had sashayed into the shop, a cup holder containing two Venti coffee’s in hand. She always did this, came and distracted you at some point in the day. She claimed if she didn’t you would get completely buried in your work and she’d never see your ass again. You defend yourself of course at the jab, but weakly. Because you knew she was probably(defiantly) right.

“Hey hooker” you greet from your place, adjusting the display in the window while the store seemed to have a quiet moment, only a few costumers scattered around the place. Your short frame was balanced on a step stool as you reached up high to

“Hello gorgeousness…Why don’t you come down from there before you brake your neck. Neck braces aren’t on trend this spring” She teases, because everyone whose ever met you knows how dangerously clumsy you are. You just huff and climb down. Courtney then hands you your drink and you give her an over exaggerated groan, holding your hand to your chest and telling her that she was too good to you before taking a sip of the sweet caffeine you had desperately needed.

Thank god for Courtney- that she knows you better then you know yourself. She took time out of her own day to come check on you and ask you how yours was going, yeah it wasn’t really out of her way seeing on how she worked up the street, but still. You appreciated her more then she’d ever know, even if she had ‘momed’ you since you guys we’re teenagers.

“So how has your day been?” She’s nibbling on a coconut cream pie scone. She claimed god himself had given you the recipe for them “It looks unusually dead in here”

“It’s been aright so far, nothing too exciting. The 4 o'clock rush hasn’t happened yet so I’ve just been fucking around. Yours? Your manager still harassing that new guy?” You guys end up sitting at one of the little tables, Shane assures you that he’s got who ever might come in.

“Yeah, Patty’s still earning herself one shiner of a Law Suit. Dirty ass old woman” Courtney shakes her head at the mention of her boss, the woman was a seventy year old former play boy bunny AND the dirtiest woman either of you had ever met. “But that’s whatever. I have some major gossip”

You can tell just by the tone of her voice that what she’s about to tell you is insanely juicy.

Fun fact, you never really grow out of gossiping. Thirty(well twenty nine) years old or not, when you live in a town as small as this one, it’s just a given that every one knows everyone’s business.

“Okay why didn’t you start out with that? Spill” You demand, leaning in closer to her, anticipating her next words.

“Okay so you know how Felix used to date Sarah whose best friends with Brooklyn?” She starts and you nod. Obviously “So I guess they’re sleeping together again. I know, big shocker, and Sarah told him that Brooklyn told her that Lance is moving back in with their mom” Courtney informs you of the tabgled drama between her coworker, his ex, and Brooklyn Tucker.

You gape at that for a moment. No way. Lance Tucker, Olympic gold medalist, LANce Tucker was moving back into his parents house. How?

“No way” You decide but she just chuckles and nods.

“Yes way, dude. I guess there was some huge scandal at that gym he worked at in California. Some coach got one of the girls pregnant or something? I don’t know all of those details but what I do know is Lance the mother fucker Tucker is moving home” Courtney cackles “How hilarious, right?”

Courtney was nice…to you. To everyone else she was a bit of a bitch.

“Hilarious isn’t the word I would use. Ironic though-” You cluck your tongue. Hadn’t he always hated this town? You remember even in middle school he had been so adamant about getting out of this “suburban shithole” and going somewhere he deemed worthy of him. Him and his shiny superstar ego.

“It’s fucking fitting I think. He was always such a giant dick. Now he’s living back with his mommy? Karma really is a vicious bitch. Ha” Courtney shakes her head with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

Yeah, he’d been a huge cocksucker to everyone- you included. But losing your dream? The one you’d spent years working on? You didn’t wish that upon anyone.

“It is but how…sad” You bite your thumb nail as you mull it over.

“Sad? I mean I guess- But he’s such an asshole. Don’t you hate him?” Courtney hates you and your big bleeding heart sometimes. That guy didn’t deserve your sympathy.

“No, Court, I don’t hate him…anymore” you cant deny, there was a time when he had made you see red “He’s not my favorite person in the world. Of course not, but I don’t know. I’m an adult now-” Courtney scoffs hard at that and you fling a cupcake wrapper at her “I just don’t see the point in holding grudges anymore”

“Yeah okay” Courtney rolls her eyes as she gathers up her belongings “You keep telling yourself that, Mahatma Gandhi. Like you don’t still hate Carlos Vance for accidentally hitting you with a pencil in the 6th grade”

“He really almost blinded me and wasn’t even apologetic about it at all. Fuck him forever” You’re dead serious and it causes both of you to laugh.

“My breaks almost over, I have to run. We’re still on for Margarita’s with the girls this Friday, right?”

“Of course” You kiss each other on the cheek and you pack her another scone “for the road” before she’s hurrying out of the door. You give her reciting frame a fond smile, but continue to mull over her words. Lance was coming back. You stomach felt unsettled at that- and you hated it. You hadn’t even talked, or much less thought about him in years.

So why we’re you so…so weird about the idea of him moving back? It was stupid, really.

So you do what you did best, and buried your self in your work.

It really did help, too. Your mind is completely free of any thoughts of people you hadn’t seen in ages-

Until a few days ago.

When he had walked into your shop.

He was still the same. The way his presence seemed to fill up the entire room. That smirk and those expressive eye brows. And, because you’re not a hater, of course you’d noticed that he’d seemed to be even more in shape now then he was back in high school. His broad shoulders strained against the material of his track suit. Jeeze, he was still wearing those. Didn’t he know it was a different decade now?

So you’d taken him personally, helped him choose a cupcake and rang him up. Just being professional, you tell yourself. that was all it was.

You tried to ignore how…tired he looked. Not physically, really…but drained. His demeanor drained. It wasn’t your business, right? So you try to keep it cool, keep your self in check.

You never did have the best self control. When he’s going to leave, you call for him.

“Welcome home”

Simple words, but you hoped they might have a little impact.

His grin is still ridiculously bright and handsome, you note mentally.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

It brings up old- feelings. Memories. Adolescent adoration and hate. It’s annoying, there’s no place for it in your adult life.

“He seems like a real winner” Shane had dead panned “Hot as hell though”

You laughed at your younger employee. You loved Shane, he’d been working for you since pretty much the moment you’d opened this place and even though he was five years your junior, he’d become a close friend “What you don’t remember Lace the mother fucker Tucker? Olympic gold medalist and grade A dick wad?”

“Nah, I remember him. That tight ass of his though, that slipped my memory”

You’d swatted Shane’s shoulder as you laughed. Little shit.

You hadn’t seen him after that, though. Not that you wanted to. Not that your eyes maybe scanned the shop for a tall head of dark hair…

You didn’t expect him to come back. Him and his athlete ways. Back in high school you remember him and his grueling diet he’d been on.

So you go about your routine, the comfortable one that you follow without even thinking about it. The one that included waking up at the crack of dawn, feeding your dog, watering your garden. Tending to the shop as though it was your child. Bullshitting with your friends.

The usual.

Your usual is broken, though, by one phone call.

It’s not even a bad phone call, so you don’t know why it throws you off so awfully. Why you feel overwhelmed and hot and near panicky as you sit at your kitchen table. But you know that you need to remedy it. With wine. Lots, and lots of wine.

Which you don’t seem to have in your house. How we’re you completely dry? What kind of blasphemy.

So you drag yourself out of your house, muttering about “fuck your life” and “Courtney’s the antichrist” because you knew that alcoholic bitch was the culprit, the wine bandit who had left you with no choice but to go to the store. At 10 O'clock. In a pair of tight leggings, an over sized sweater and ugg booties.

You’re walking lazily through the brightly lit isles of the grocery store on main street. You’ve found your wine, have it popped open, as you stress shop.

You figure you might as well get some ingredients. Plus, you needed new dish towels- and oh, we’re those Fourth of July decorations? Might as well grab em’ even though it was only Mid April.

You’re so engrossed in your task, that you don’t notice you’ve been being trailed.

Lance needed to get out of the house.

Living with his mother and sister- and Brooklyn’s two daughters was driving him nuts. Did he love them all? Yes, very much. Was he going out of his fucking mind at the overwhelming amount of female energy he was being force exposed to? Absolutely.

He was already apartment hunting.

So he’d go on drives, long ones that would take the edge off of- everything.

Re-explore this town that he seemed to know every corner of. Get to know the few parts that we’re new. But even that was getting boring.

So he decides that the only way to get through this night is drunk. Or at least buzzed. The liquor store is closed so the supermarket is the only option. Lance takes long legged strides into the all but empty store. It’s late, so no one is really there, but the one cashier working and Weird Wallace, the towns hermit who only came out at night to avoid all other human life.

Lance tips his head at the man as he makes a bee-line for the liquor section, intent on buying a twelve pack of beer and hopefully drinking everyone that night.

He doesn’t expect to see you. He catches the sight of you out of his peripheral vision. You have a wine bottle tilted all the way back, taking a gulp, before going back to your shopping.

What were you doing at the store at nearly eleven o'clock? Lance wonders with an amused grin.

He should just grab his beer and go home. That would be the smart thing to do- Buuuut, Lance really wasn’t as smart as he prided himself on being.

He’s not following you.

Not even.

He just happens to be going in the same direction as you.

Not creepy at all.

Okay- kind of creepy. Especially when you bend over to grab something off a bottom rack. Your leggings go sheer as they hug your large, round ass. He can see the outline of the little lace g string you have on and he cant help but bite his lip.

What a sight.

You always had, had a nice ass. Wide and grab-able. His fingers still itched to dig them selves into the doughy flesh.

“Well, fancy meeting you here”

The sound of his voice sends you snapping up straight fast, you almost loose your grip on the neck of the wine bottle as your heart pounds and a gasp rips it’s self from your throat. You spin on your heels to face him and he’s just standing there. In a track suit, that look- his signature smug smile gracing his features.

“Lance, you dick!” You hiss at him, holding your middle as you regain your breath “You scared the shit out of me!”

His icy eyes could make the queens guards quake in their tall black, fluffy hats. They’re so…predatory. And sharp. And beautiful.

And bold, they look you up and down unapologetically.

You swallow the rush of self consciousness that raises in your throat.

“Sorry, sugar” He doesn’t sound sorry at all “What are you doing out so late?”

“It’s not even eleven o'clock yet, Lance. It’s hardly late”

He likes your snark, It suits you. You’d never had that edge before “My mistake. It’s totally normal for people to be going shopping for-” he gazes into your shopping basket “Red, white and blue tiki torches and chardonnay in the middle of the night”

“Being normal is vastly overrated” You shrug and shift on your feet “What about you? You going to a kegger?”

He grins “Nah, I just needed a breather… you want to join me?” He holds up the case of beer in offering and you roll your eyes at him.

Hard.

“I’ll pass” you dismiss him easily, turning back to your cart “You have a good night though”

You had a sense of self preservation and you absolutely would not get drunk with the man. Randomly. On a Thursday night.

Lance’s eyebrows stich together at how easily you shrug him off and that part of him, the competitive athlete one, pushes him forward. Because he never gave up, on anything. Ever. And who we’re you to just turn your back on him?

“Really? You’d rather drink your bottle of wine alone?” He presses on, keeping up easily with you so you’re standing shoulder to shoulder(well not really because he has a good near foot on you) with him. You convince yourself that it doesn’t unnerve you.

“Yup” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically.

“That sounds like fun" His sarcastic bite makes you bite the inside of your cheek “I’m offering you company. A good time and…good beer”

“I’ve never really been a beer girl” the sound he makes in his throat at your words is cute. You cant deny that “So again, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass”

“And here I thought we we’re friends”

“Really?” You give him incredulous eyes. Was he serious?

“Yeah- I mean we had that art class senior year and we were partners and” Lance recalls how close the two of you had gotten, how many hours you’d spend laughing and bullshitting and wasn’t that friendship? “I just assumed we we’re still friends”

“Do you not even remember what you said to me?” You don’t mean to say it, you really don’t. But you’ve taken one too many gulps of wine. The look of confusion on his face feels like a slap to yours.

“No?” He starts “Should I?”

You scoff at him so intensely it’s almost painful before you’re off, wanting to put some distance between the two of you.

Why wont he let you?

“Y/N” Lance insists on being the biggest pain in the ass ever to walk the planet “What did I say?”

“Just leave me alone” You’re almost through at the check out isle, the cashier is taking their sweet time though. You’d always loved La'tecia. The elderly black woman kept you in stiches, but you needed her to hurry the hell up.

“No. What did I say?” He continues to push, keeping up with you easily. He was fitter, his legs longer. You couldn’t out run him if you tried.

When you don’t answer him he can feel his annoyance spike at your antics “Why don’t you quit being a child and tell me so I can say sorry- even if I don’t really mean it- and you can get the fuck over it”

Oh.

Hell.

No.

He did not just speak to you like that. Your teeth grit in an attempt to hold your temper. Even if the store was dead it was still a public place.

“You know what, Lance? First of all fuck you-” He opens his mouth and your finger slices the air in front of you as you hold it up “No, I’m talking right now. You keep your mouth shut and listen to me. You want to know what you said to me? You told me that I might be, and I quote, actually pretty cute if I lost some weight. That you bet all the guys would be after me if I worked on my fitness. And that killed high school me. But adult me, whose obviously doing a hellva lot better then you in life doesn’t care. So there’s nothing you need to say a meaningless sorry for. But we are not friends” You’re pretty composed during the entirety of your little rant. Until the end. You hiss those words at him.

La'tecia just minds her business, and you give her your card, eagerly.

Lance attempts to absorb your words, you’d never seen him at a loss for words. Yeah, he remembers that conversation…but you were totally twisting his words! It hadn’t even gone down like that.

“Y/N-” He starts. but your bags are in your cart and your off. He intends on following you again but-

“Uh-uh. Are you going to pay for those?” La'tecia’s cutting voice asks and he sighs and takes out his wallet.

“Let me tell you, boy. You’ve always been heard headed. And loud as hell. But I never thought you we’re cruel, even with all that nonsense everyone always spoke about you” She starts, looking him right in the eye as she speaks “You’re a grown man now. Act like it”

Lance feels personally attacked. How had this night taken this route? All he’d wanted was some beers.

“Thanks for your words of wisdom. You should consider a new profession? Therapy maybe? Counseling? Telling people where isle four is, is obviously getting to mediocre for you” He sarcastically pans at the woman before snatching his beer and his card and stalking off.

He doesn’t know why he’d expected to find you outside, the lot is empty. Your long gone. He reaches for one of the beers, wrenching open the box before popping the can open an chugging. The drive back home is spent with him stewing and going over things he hadn’t thought about in…well ever. How was he supposed to know that him stating a simple face back so long ago would make you hate him forever? Hah, no, you didn’t even hate him. As you said. You just didn’t care about him. At all.

Like no one did.

His knuckles are white around the steering wheel as he sits outside the front of his house for nearly half an hour. Wondering what the fuck had just happened.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

——————

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyscaryscully @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @maximum-effort-minimum-life @peacefulwriter88 @pegasusdragontiger @papi-chulo-bucky @yslbucky @iamwarrenspeace

Okay so one of my Aunts from my dads side of the family was just over and I knew I needed to write in La'tecia because I love bold black women. I’m sorry it got to moody, but for there to be any realism in this story Y/N needs to first call him on his shit. Give me some feed back! Let me know if you want to be tagged! Love you’s guys!

Part Three

Part Four

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Lance Tucker x Plus size reader

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.

So what do you guys think? Good idea for a short series? Eh? Lemme know💘

PS: The first chapter is up now!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

[geminimoonbeamx]

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!

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Part One

A/N: Okay so I’m happy you guys seemed to like this idea as much as I do. Let’s see where this takes us. In the movie I don’t think they ever mention Lance’s hometown, but I’ve always freaking LOVED Oregon and I figured he might as well be from one of the prettiest places in the country. Oh and in this story Lance isn’t a pedophile who fucks his gymnasts okurrr?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: This story is going to have some very colorful language, this is Lance Tucker after all.

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

💘💘💘💘💘

Everything’s too green.

He’s still trying to re-acclimate his eyes, his corneas still tender to the vivid shades. There was no colors like this back in LA; where he had happened to spend the last decade or so of his life. He missed the blur, the sea of muted tones and bright lights that came with living in the big city.

That taste- the bitter one at the back of his throat that he had become accustomed to over the last couple months returns and he swallows it, just as he slams on his breaks. His body jerks forward violently and he snaps back to reality, his reality. Where he’s back in his old town, the shitty one where’d he’d grown up.

Hillsboro Oregon.

He was currently in the middle of main street, out to run errands for his mother. Like some kind of high school, warped other dimensionally nightmare come to life.

“Learn to drive” some asshole shoots at him from their car, the one that he’d cut off when he was stuck in his head and he jumps on the opportunity to bitch at someone other then himself.

“Go fuck yourself, cocksucker!” He bellows at the unnamed, practically un-faced man out of the window of his Audi and it’s sad, but its a relief.

Lance Tucker is once again stricken by the shit show that his life had become.

He pulls into a parking space in front of the grocery store, the stone building one of many little mom and pop owned stores in the square and sits in the car for a moment, just a moment of self loathing and pity before he adjusts his Ray-Ban sunglasses in the rearview mirror and sets off to put a dent in the list his mom had sent him off with.

Nothings really changed in this town. How sad is that? Everything’s just as he remembered it from growing up, yeah, gentrification is real and there’s a Starbucks and a Target now but not on main street. No, on main street it’s still the little stores that have been there forever. The Wilsons still owned the Pharmacy, the Karsbougs surprisingly still had their little photo studio. Huh, he thought at that. Who still wanted to get their pictures taken with some outdated 90’s back drop?

Fucking small towns.

Lance hated them. He hated them when he had, had to go recruiting and he hated them now.

Even if they did have a bit of a shrine for him here. His pictures; the one of him back when he was a teenager with him and his metals.

Gold and Silver.

At least someone had the decency to remember, to show case what he’d worked so damn hard for all those years ago.

Worked hard for what? a little, snarky voice in his head hisses at him. To end up living in the apartment above his childhood’s home garage?

Fucking bullshit is what it is.

He could kill Zach. Zach, one of the assistant coaches who just HAD to go dipping his dick into the girls. Underage girls- and who just HAD to knock up Maggie Townsend. Little bitch. He should have let Hope keep her.

He’s nearly halfway through his list, and is on his way to the hardware store when something catches his eye, sends his head turning. He cant seem to walk by it, the little shop that seems to draw his attention.

It looks so…different then everything else. Maybe it’s just because he’s never seen it before? And he thought he’d seen everything this town had to offer. A bakery? When had this popped up. He’d been here last Christmas and he could have sworn this was still the Martinez’s Liquor store…

‘Cake Faced’ the bold sign reads. In the window their showcasing their ‘Spring time Florals’.

He figures, he might as well. But really it’s like his feet operate of their own accord.

The shop is modern looking, sharp crisp lines and yet it has a warm, homey air about it. It’s also the fullest place he’d been in all day, people littering the small space.

Total hipster bullshit, he shakes his head a little bit as his eyes scan over the brightly lit impressive array of different baked goods. From macaroons to cinnamon rolls that look so lush it’s almost ridiculous.

“Hi” One of the workers behind the counter doesn’t seem overly friendly. He’s a little bit flamboyant with his bleached hair and monotone voice but he looks familiar…

“I think I went to school with your brother” Lance decides “Shane right?”

“Yeah, like it says on the name tag” Shane gives him a near sarcastic look, flicking said name tag “You seein anything you might want to sample?”

Lance chuckles at the man. He’d fit right in in LA.

“Um, to be honest kid I’m a little overwhelmed here” the 42 varieties of cupcakes glare at him dauntingly. He’s definatly holding up the line.

“I’ll grab this one, Shane” a sparkling voice breaks his thought process as you appear, seemingly, out of nowhere.

Shane cocks one eyebrow before reaching for the next waiting costumer.

It doesn’t take Lance long to recognize you at all. You’re different- yeah. Your hairs lighter and you look older, more put together then you had in highschool. Mature, maybe? Prettier, definatley. Your big e/c eyes framed by incredibly long lashes are still the same though. Your dimpled smile and chubby cheeks are still there too.

“Look what the cat dragged in” you start, your arms are folded over your chest but the look on your eyes is friendly.

“Well hello to you too, sweetheart”

You scoff at that “What can I get you, Lance?”

He’s honesty surprised to see you working at some random bakery. Hadn’t you always been like really smart? Voted most likely to end up in the Times?

“Surprise me. What’s good here?” He notes at you challengingly over the counter and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Same Tucker.

“Well I’m incredibly biased so I think everything is good, but-” you crouch down to get a spoonful of cupcake “these are new”

You hand him the mini spoon and he sticks it into his mouth, his blue eyes not leaving yours as his plush lips close around the untensil.

You chuckle when they bulge a little bit.

“Damn that’s good” Lance moans at the bursting flavors in his mouth.

Lavender lemon cheesecake. Just about the last flavor he would have chosen himself, but it leaves his mouth watering.

“Thanks” you shrug proudly. He says he’ll take four of them and you start to box them up for him. Trying to ignore his gaze on you as you do so.

“You make those?”

“Well not that batch but it’s my recipe so you could say that”

“Really?”

“Really” you verify and half of his mouth pulls up. He remembers you being a smart ass.

“So what? Do you work here?” Lance wonders as you go to ring him out and you give him a half stupid look as he hands you his card.

“I mean obviously you do- you just don’t have a uniform on so I was just- uh” you laugh at his ramblings, or maybe it’s at the fact that he’s trying so hard not to look like he’s rambling.

“You know not having to wear a uniform is just one of the many perks of being your own boss” you inform him as you place the sage green box in a bag and hand it over to him.

“Wait- you own this place?” Lance puts two and two together. Manager? Maybe, he’d would’ve guessed but owner?

“Yup. For almost two years now” your so factual with him, in his memories you were…warmer. You and your big circle of friends and your social nature. He still recalled the people waiting outside of the classroom for you when the bell would ring. The two of you had even been friends, hadn’t you?

“Damn. Look at'chu” Lance whistles and you quirk your mouth, trying to keep your grin in check.

“Hey Y/N” your interrupted by by Max, one of the girls who works for you. She has questions about inventory that’s coming in. Lance watches you with amused, curious eyes as you play the role of boss bitch flawlessly.

He can’t help but think it’s hot, if he’s being perfectly honest.

“Welp, duty calls. Have a good rest of your day and enjoy your cupcakes” you have a buisness to run, and you’d spent too much time on him already.

“I most definatley will. You have a good one, too” Lance takes the bag and turns to leave, he doesn’t care. He reminds himself of that. But why were you so cold to him? And on that note, why had you never accepted his friend requests?

“Hey Lance?”

He turns at the sound of your call, his face a little confused.

“Welcome home”

His broad grin and little quirk of his eyeballs before he exits the store makes you sigh through your nose. He doesn’t hear that though.

He leaves the shop, lips sweet and buzzing with curiosity.

———————

@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyscaryscully @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @maximum-effort-minimum-life

Okay guys this is short and sweet. Pretty much an intro, but I had to pump something out for you guys today. Happy Samhain, my fellow tumblarians😂💛🎃

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Part Three

A/N: I’m a little addicted to writing this and while I have the time to update frequently, I will. Don’t get too used to it though, my sweet babies. I’m about to be really busy coming up here soon. Oh and I forgot to mention this last time, but I actually got the name of Lance’s sister from a fic I read a while ago! Brooklyn just fits so perfectly, I feel like it should be cannon! So kudos to that author because I now think of Brooklyn Tucker as a real character lol.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: All the cursing and Yonce listening in this one.

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 wake up the next morning, still fuming.

A bottle of wine, six hours of sleep and a scalding hot shower later and you still feel like you could swing on that mother Tucker.

You try to push it our of your mind as you brew a pot of coffee and prepare for work but you just cant. You cant stop the thoughts that are sharp and assaultive.

How dare he?

Who did he think he was?

Who the hell did he think you we’re?

Some sad pathetic fat girl, an easy fuck? That he could ask you, rudely, to drink with him and you would just accept because, what? He was the only man who ever made any advances, and you should take his pity attention. You audibly scoff as you slide into a pair of pointed toe loafers and shrug into your camel coat, flicking your hair out of the collar as you do, assessing your appearance in the mirror by the front door mindlessly.

Yeah, you weren’t a supermodel. Yeah, you we’re over weight. But you actually liked your self, something that had come with years on years of hard work. You liked your fat ass and your curvy waist. You liked the way your eyes looked when you lined them with sharp eyeliner and the way your hair tumbled after you doused it in smoothing oil.

You stomp down your porch steps, irately slamming the door of your jeep after you get in. As you make the drive to the shop, you have to remind yourself that life is short. And you’re not going to let an asshole like Lance ruin you entire day. Because yeah, you liked all of those physical aspects of yourself, but what you liked most about your life; is that you had worked damn fucking hard. You owned your own business. You we’re your own boss.

Boss ass bitch.

So you crank up your Beyoncé playlist and let Queen Bey serenade your morning drive. By the time you get to work, belting out the lyrics of ‘Flawless’ you feel better, and you unlock the store and start morning prep- the stones in your stomach all but gone.

“You look good today Mrs. Thang” Shane, whose opening with you comments as he enters and you just hum and lick a bit of frosting from your knuckle.

“Why thank you, kind sir. You’re looking good today, too. I like the new hair” gone was the beach blond and in was a pretty lavender shade that highlighted his cheekbones. It was almost sad to think that it probably wouldn’t last long. Shane went through hair colors faster then the then the changing seasons, never keeping the same tone for more then a month at a time.

You loved it. Encouraged it. Because you weren’t one of those cunt-y bosses. Yeah, you had rules but mostly they we’re enforced with friendship and mutual respect. Not fearmongering and superiority.

You think that’s why most of your employee’s had worked for you for so long. A couple, like Shane, had been with you from the very start.

“Really, it was an accident” Shane shrugs, running a hand through the fluffy purple locks as he does the chores, straightens and preps before flipping the open sign over just as Ashleigh, one of your girls runs in- whimpering “sorry’s” as she hurriedly grabs her apron from the back and clocks in. You make her explain it to you, obviously, why she was a half an hour late and she goes into a frantic story about having to drop off a sister somewhere.

“Ash, it’s okay” You place your hands on her shoulders, placatingly “Just give me a call next time”

Your firm, and warm at the same time. She wasn’t known for being a flake, and everyone deserved a break sometimes. You weren’t going to bust her balls for her first offence. She looks so grateful it’s almost comical.

“Thank you, I love you, thank you”

“Bitch, go set up the display up front. I’ve done everything else this morning” Shane snaps playfully at her and you chuckle, clucking about language(even though you had the WORST mouth) before going to check on your cinnamon rolls.

It was going to be a good day, you encourage yourself…

And it was.

Even through the intensely busy hours that came with breakfast and lunch, your shop frequented at least thirty-forty people at any given moment at those times. But you couldn’t complain, how could you? Your business was booming. So you were on your feet all day. Boo hoo, the price of success was never promised to be cheap. Luckily you have a near full staff today so you can focus on things behind the counter.

Which def isn’t as much fun. You’d rather be baking, or working the register, but the books aren’t going to balance themselves and you have some business calls to get done. You also may or may not text Courtney and bitch about the night befores endeavors.

-I told you, he’s total piece of shit. Fucking dick-

She messages you about Lance and your nose crinkled. Yeah, he was. Which is sad, because you hadn’t always believed that.

“Hey, Y/N” Your head rises to look at one of your girls, she’s peeking her head into your office “There’s a problem with the corner mixer again”

You sigh through your nose, you’d just had maintenance in a couple weeks ago “Okay, I’ll be right out”

Still, you think, it had been a decent day.

Even when you get splattered with batter as you help fix the mixer. You agree to take Shane’s place at the front counter because he’s better at tinkering with the machine then you are and your only there for what seems like five minutes when your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. There’s a tall head of dark hair, and broad shoulders that have just walked in.

And bright blue eyes that meet yours.

You feel a flash of heat spread through your body and you probably would have told him to get the hell out- but of course Lance Tucker never played fair.

At his sides are two young girls, who you know are his nieces because you’d seen Brooklyn around with her kids before.

You meet his stare, determined not to back down. Your eyes are scowling harshly at him as he approaches you, and really, you wished you hadn’t left your office.

As much as you dislike Lance in that moment, those girls didn’t do anything to you and their giggling excitedly as they get up to the glass, looking at the extensive display of sweets with eyes bigger then their stomach’s.

“Hi” You grin at them, genuinely. Brooklyn Tucker really had reproduce well because her two daughters are gorgeous, some of the prettiest children you’ve ever laid eyes on. The younger one even has those hypnotic baby blues you figured must run in their family line.

They both chime their hello’s at you, the older girl holding the youngers hand in a way that makes you ache- missing your own sister dearly at that moment in time.

“Hi” That’s from Lance, but you don’t even acknowledge him.

“Do you guys see anything you like? Just point out anything you want to taste, okay?”

Both girls press even closer to the glass at that, their foreheads all but plastered to it. The little one seems to be having trouble though, she’s on the very tips of her toes and she’s still not quite tall enough to see all of her options. Lance doesn’t warn her, he just scoops her up in his arms and she squeals as he lean’s her down haphazardly so she can get a peek at all of the pastries.

“Thanks, Uncle Lance”

Your eyes meet his, just for a moment before you quickly divert them again.

So he did one cute(ass motherfucking) thing?

That didn’t pardon last night’s…and all the nights before that’s sin’s.

“I never know what to get when we come in here there’s just soooo many options. I’m going to have a mental break” The older girl blabbers and you chuckle. How old was she? Ten? Oh, sweet child, you want to tell her. You don’t know anything about mental breaks yet.

“Why don’t you ask, Y/N. She really knows her stuff” Lance chances a peek at you, but your still refusing to look at him.

“Really? Please halp me” The young girl balks and you laugh out loud.

“Okay, kiddo. what do you like? Are you into fruity flavors or are you more of a chocolate girl?” you start the process of helping her choose, one you’re well acquainted with.

“Give me all of the chocolate”

“A girl after my own heart, I like you” You smile as you start collecting samples for her to try.

The Mud Slide, the Dirty Old Man, and finally the Cookie Monster.

You knew she’d like that one, it was a hit with kids.

“What about you, sweet pea?” You ask the little one in Lances arms.

“Well I was thinking I would just take another one of those one’s I got last time” Lance answers you cockily, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“I wasn’t talking to you” you say at the same time that his older niece says “She was talking to Lula!”

Lance’s gives her a pointed look “Don’t team up on me now. You’re supposed to be on my side”

Again, ignoring him you ask “Lula, do you see anything you want to try”

You can tell she’s quieter- maybe not as bold as the other Tucker’s in the shop and you don’t want her to feel left out. When she points to the Strawberry Crunch Bar you smile and give her the little tester spoonful, your eye brows wiggling friskily at her. She giggles and tells you that, that’s the one she wants.

“Well I’ll try it too then” Lance decides and you hand him a tester, not nearly as nicely. He wraps his lips around it, his eyes glued to yours and smiles.

Fuck.

Why is his smile still so gorgeous?

“Mmm- it’s okay”

You glare at him and he chuckles and holds his hand that’s not occupied by holding the child up “I’m kidding, jeeze”

“Will that be all for you guys?” you’re not trying to rush them- but you really are. He was already getting on your nerves.

Lance wants to sigh, and reach over the counter and shake you because obviously he was throwing up a white flag, couldn’t you give him a break? He’d spent the entire morning, with a gnarly head ache(because he, in fact, had finished that case of beer) and an itch he couldn’t scratch. An annoying one that had led him back to this shop. Luckily, he was babysitting the girls while Brooke was at work so he knew you wouldn’t turn him away.

But that didn’t stop you from being really damn difficult.

“No, actually. It wont. Le'mme try that one” He points to a swirling green cupcake with chocolate sprinkles. And then five more after that. It get’s a little ridiculous because you can tell he’s not even really into it. He’s just doing it to annoy you.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” You ask tensely after his sixth taster, your really trying to be professional but he’s really getting under your skin.

“I don’t know you tell me”

You huff at his answer. Why was he tormenting you?

“Uncle Lance I want to eat my cupcake!” The older girl pulls on his arm, hurrying him.

“And you can, when my friend here tells me that she’ll join us”

Has he lost his damn mind?

“I’m working” you instantly snap.

“Well isn’t one of the perks of being your own boss being able to take breaks when you want to?” Lance pushes “Just a quick one, we’ll eat in the store”

“No”

“Come on”

“Please miss- it’ll be really fast I promise” The older girl begs and you could hit him for doing this to you. The store was quiet enough that you couldn’t use that for an excuse…and really, you owned the place. You had no superior to look out for.

“Fine. But I cant hang out for long, It’s almost four, it’ll start to pick up again” You bend with a sigh as you ring them up and Lance stands a little straighter. The shit eating look on his face makes you want to puke. You sit at one of the tables with them and watch with fond amusement as the girls begin feasting on their cupcakes animatedly.

You learn that while Lula isn’t much of a talker, her older sister Zoey is. The girl, who tells you that she’s nine and a quarter, is maybe the most talkative child you’ve ever met. You cant even really absorb all that she’s giving you.

“Jesus, Zo. Give the woman a chance to breathe” Lance teases her, wiping a stray bit of frosting away from her cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t mind, do you Y/N?” Zoey asks around a bite “We’re friends now”

You smile widely at that but very seriously tell her “Of course we are”

“See?” Zoey shoots at Lance “You’re just mad because she’s my friend and not yours”

Lance covers his grimace with a smirk as he looks down. The kid’s not wrong.

“Maybe your on to something”

“Don’t be weird” Zoey alerts at the sound of his gruff voice “We can all be friends, right?”

She looks at you with a child like innocence that renders you speechless for a moment, grasping for the right words.

This was so unfair,

“I don’t make friend with boy’s. Their gross” Lula is a godsend you decide as she breaks the silence with her comment.

“Live your entire life by those words” You advise the younger girl and Lance chortles.

“That’s a little sexist” Zoey is something else. The girl spoke like she was far older then her nine years.

“I promise that when you get to be my age you’ll understand”

She just goes back to her cupcake and idle chatter after you tell her that.

“What if the boy really wanted to be your friend?” Lance asks lowly as his nieces debate something between themselves, not paying attention to the two of you.

He’s leaning into you a little bit, his shoulder is nearly touching yours and his knee brushes your thigh.

You knew what he was doing. And you weren’t amused in the least.

“I don’t think the boy knows what friendship is”

“C'mon Y/N. Don’t be like that”

You snap your eyes in his direction warningly.

“I’m not being like anything. Like I told you last night-”

“You don’t give a shit about me. Yeah, I remember”

You chew on his words, they taste sharp and bitter and ugly.

“I didn’t mean it like that” your voice is softer, softer then you’d meant it to be.

“Then be my friend”

The way friend rolls off his tongue is suggestive and almost sinful and even though you refuse to look at him, his eyes bore into the side of your face and you attempt not to squirm in your seat. Hating that he was getting this kind of reaction out of you.

“Y/N!” Saved, once again by the bell. Or fate. Or Shane. You scoot out the chair to stand instantly, extremely relieved to have an out.

“It was really nice to meet you guys, I hope you liked your cupcakes” You bid fare well to the girls.

“It was nice meeting you too. We’re friends now, so I’ll be back” Zoey informs you, matter of factly and you bite a laugh.

“I’ll be waiting” you salute her as you prepare to leave.

Your not expecting Lance to be so…bold. Which is stupid. Because bold is pretty much who he is. He reaches out to block your path with his long, toned arm and your thighs bump into it.

You look down at him, irate.

“Thank you” He looks up at you, that insanely pretty jaw tensing and his eyes literally cutting holes into you.

You shake your head, trying to banish the feeling.

Really, it just looks like your shaking your head at him being a total ass hat.

“Your welcome” You mutter, but his arm doesn’t drop. He’s still caging you in, in a way that’s making your chest flutter uncomfortably. It’s like he can sense it, because he grins and his voice comes out smooth as butter.

“It really was delicious”

Was he fucking with you?

He had to be fucking with you.

“Yup. It’s my job, now move” if the children weren’t there you would have been a little more…colorful, but the way you say move is enough for his arm to retreat.

He cant decide whether he wants to smile, or glare. Whether you’re actually annoying him by being so stubborn or turning him on. As he watches your hips sway he thinks it might be the latter.

“I like her” Lula announces, as she licks at the cupcake wrapper for any remaints of icing and Lance’s mouth twitches as you toss your head back and laugh at something someone said to you. He did too. He thinks he always had.

Part Four

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@huntressxtimelady @i-had-a-life-once @zombiewerewolfqueen @spookyscaryscully @adyseesbeauty @geekyweed @peacefulwriter88 @pegasusdragontiger @yslbucky @iamwarrenspeace @maximum-effort-minimum-life @booklover2929 @ultrafangirl000 @sophiealiice

Okay, what did we think about this one? I know their relationship is slow burning and for all intents and purposes Y/N still isn’t his biggest fan but isn’t that realistic? Lol he’s sooooo full of shit and I think the woman that finally caught Lance Tucker would def know that. Please leave me some comments, some feedback about what you think. Even if it’s constructive criticism. I really like this story and I want to know if you guys do too!😭💛