Killer ♕ King

a fanfic blog. things might get graphic. beware I'm in shipper hell.

[wastelandic-archive]

HOO BOY holidays killed me and ate my time up.

I’m going to get back to writing more gross Stanchez prompts + work on Sloppy Seconds so thanks for baring with me! 8′)

January is going to be a big writing month so buckle up, kiddos.

Feel free to leave me more prompts or whatnot! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

[wastelandic-archive]

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice” for Stanchez !

Another teen au one shot 8) because that’s one of my favorite aus to write for.tw: under-aged drinking.

Stanley’s always been curious about Stanford’s lab partner, ever since he first forced himself to sit with the friendless twins’ during lunch. At first, the twins tried to find different areas to sit and enjoy their lunch without being annoyed by the loud and obnoxious teen with blue hair. However, their efforts were wasted as Rick Sanchez had found them anyway. Soon, the twins got used to him being there and gave up trying to hide away from the other friendless teen.

It wasn’t too long until Stanley actually started to enjoy his presence, finding himself smirking at comments made towards Stanford, Rick’s lack of respect for the teachers and other students, and, most importantly, the pranks the other played. No one was safe from a Rick Sanchez prank, not even the Pines twins. Where Stanford would get incredibly upset, Stanley found himself laughing and wanting to know Rick’s secrets.

“A true prankster never reveals their tricks.” Rick would grin and jab at Stanley, just to go back to whatever devious little trick he would pull next.

Months passed and soon the Pines duo became a trio much to Stanford’s dismay. Every day, the six-fingered youth walked the halls with his brother on one side and Rick on the other, the three of them slowly becoming the blight of the school. (Again, much to Stanford’s dismay.)

Of course, there was another person who disliked Rick almost as much as Stanford, and that was Carla. Carla was the girl of Stanley’s dreams, or so most people thought. With Rick around, Carla found herself getting more and more distant from Stanley. She noticed he was changing as much as he would tell her he wasn’t. He slowly was becoming less and less the Stanley she loved and became more and more of the Stanley that Rick loved. It eventually came down to the last straw, Carla couldn’t handle how much of an asshole Stanley was becoming and was frustrated with how he couldn’t see it himself. 

Their relationship ended not too long afterwords. Carla ended up being won over by another and Stanley found himself in a pit of despair. Both Rick and Ford tried to get him out of the house, to keep his mind off of Carla, but to no avail. Until one night where Rick announced he was staying the night at the twin’s home. Completely unannounced.

Using the cover of working on a science project with Ford, he managed to get the approval of both Ma and Pa Pines, a feat incredibly rare that the twin’s were incredibly taken aback. Rick’s phony mask fell as soon as the trio made it to Stan and Ford’s room, shutting the door behind him and pulling bottles of beer and a whiskey flask from his back pack.

“Let’s fuckin’ party, twins.”

“No-now hold on a second, Rick.” Ford put his hands up in defense, shaking his head. “No, w-we aren’t doing this! We’re underage!”

“Aw gee! I completely forgot! Thanks, captain obvious!” Rick rolled his eyes, shoving a bottle at Stanford. “Stop being such a good two-shoe and grow a pair, genius. One beer ain’t gonna kill ya.” He made his way over to Stanley, offering a bottle to him. Stan hesitated for only a second before taking the bottle and twisting off the cap.

The smell was nothing to him, having their father constantly drinking around the house, the malty stench was not something Stan was a fan of but to hell with everything! Tonight, he would live a little more. Without a second thought, the bottom of the bottle went up as the tip touched his lips. Ford and Rick watched as he chugged the beer without hesitation. 

Stanley dropped the bottle on his bed and sat down, coughing, tears at the edge of his eyes. “G-godd-d-dammit.” Rick began laughing, raising his own drink and taking a swig in Stan’s name. Ford worriedly went to his brother and patted him on the back. 

“You okay?”

“Y-y-yeah. I-I’m good, Sixer.” He gave his brother a weak smile and thumbs up before laughing. “That shit’s nasty.”

“You want another?” Rick offered.

“Hell yeah.”

It was late into the night as the three tipsy teens cackled in the bedroom. Neither of the parents knowing, nor particularly caring, about what was going on. They had finished off the bottles of beer that Rick had brought and now Stan and Rick were passing the whiskey flask between the two of them. Ford had gotten up to shower and try to not vomit, leaving the two laying on Stan’s bed looking through nude magazines. 

Stan kept glancing over at Rick and his dumb grinning face. He really admired his friend, how smart he was, how carefree he was, how attractive he was… He shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush but unsure if it was because of the last thought he had or because of the alcohol traveling throughout his system. The latter, he told himself. Hiding his face in the magazine, he tried to focus on the curves of the woman in the centerfold, how much he would enjoy touching her breasts, her ass, how Rick would probably make a real cute girl…Quickly, he put the magazine down and covered his face.

“Y-y-you gonna bust a n-nut or wh-what?” Rick chuckled, looking over from his own magazine.

“Ohhh, sh-shut it.” Stan mumbled from behind his hands.

“H-hey.” Rick placed his magazine down and scooted over to be on his side next to Stan. “D-d-don’t move, ‘kay.”

Confused, Stan began to move his hands to see Rick’s face getting closer to his own. “Wh-wh-wha.”

“I s-said,” Rick took hold of the other’s wrist and held them down on either side of his face, leaning above him, his cheeks rosy against his olive complexion. “D-don’t m-move, idiot.” Their lips touched for a moment, before Rick pulled back, a grin on his face at the sight of Stan’s red face and wide eyes.

“B-bu…”

“I-I-I’ve seen the w-w-way you look at me wh-when you think I-I-I-I don’t notice, Stanley. I-I ain’t n-no moron, moron.” He moved in to kiss him again, this time Stan reciprocated.

“O-okay s-so. S-s-s-so wh-what if I li-like…” Stan spoke between kisses. 

“Y-you l-like..?” Rick beamed, his kisses moving from Stan’s lips to his cheeks, jawline, neck. “Wh-what do you like..?”

Stan took a deep breath, enjoying every time Rick’s lips touched his skin. His head was spinning, he couldn’t concentrate. “I-I-I-I…” His eyes widen and Rick moved on top of him, craning his neck as to not his the top bunk bed. “R-Ri-Rick wh-what..?”

“L-like I-I said e-earlier.” The blue haired teen pushed the collar of Stan’s shirt to the side, moving to bite his shoulder causing Stan to gasp. “L-let’s party.” Rick continued to kiss and bite at Stan’s shoulders and the base of his neck, Stan enjoying the sensation, Carla had never been this intimate and passionate with him.

The thought of Carla made Stan sit up, causing Rick to fall backwards off of him. “S-s-sorry. I-I-I-I…”

Rick frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. “N-n-no d-don’t. I-I get it I-I-I t-totally pegged you wrong. M-my b-bad, bro.”

“Ri-Rick I…” He reached for the other and took a hold of his arm. “I…It’s C-Carla.”

Rick rolled his eyes and pouted, looking away from Stan. “Th-that br-broad n-never liked y-you anyway…”

Stan’s face fell at Rick’s comment, normally those kind wouldn’t bother him but Rick knew Carla was a sensitive subject at the time. It hurt and maybe it was just the alcohol, but Stan wanted nothing to do but punch a wall and be alone. He dropped his hand from Rick’s arm and the two sat in silence. The sound of footsteps interrupted the silence just as Stan was about to say something. The door to the bedroom opened slightly and an ill looking Ford peaked his head in.

“St-st-stanley…c-c-can you he-help me out..?”

Stan looked at Rick who had moved onto the floor and began flipping pages of one of the porno magazines again. He sighed and stood from the bed, headed to the door. “Sure th-thing, Sixer.”

[wastelandic-archive]

Ah man I've been busy with work but I have two days off in a row this week so I'll work on the drafts I have for all my lovely Stanchez followers! Stay tuned!

[wastelandic-archive]

36 stanchez?

TW’s: drug use! You’ve been warned. Also this is kinda short bc I’m short on time my apologizes :0

“Run, you i-idiot, run!” Rick shoved Stan forward, causing the bigger man to stumble a bit before breaking into a sprint. Gunshots were fired as they ran down the street, bullets buzzing past their heads, just narrowly missing them. A wide, toothy grin spread over Rick’s face as he clutched the small black bag to his chest and began laughing. Stan struggled to pull his keys from his jacket’s inside pocket as they ran, turning a corner and finally pulling them out as they made it to their rundown chevy.

“Fuck, fuck…” Stan muttered, fumbling with the keys as he tried to get the door to the car opened as quickly as possible. Finally unlocking it and jumping in, he leaned over and popped the passenger side door open, letting Rick in before starting the car and peeling away from the sidewalk just as their pursuers rounded the corner. 

The sound of gunshots and yelling slowly died out the farther the two traveled. It wasn’t long until they reached their safe house, neither of them speaking until they arrived. Stan parked the car and angrily got out, slamming the car door.

“What the fuck, Rick?!” He grabbed the thinner man by the collar of his shirt as he stepped out of the car, still clutching the bag. “I thought this was supposed to be an easy deal? Why the fuck were they shooting at us?”

Rick just held a stupid grin on his face and chuckled. “I miiiiight have just…brought the wrong wallet.”

“So you didn’t bring the money?! We fuckin’ just stole…what an eight ball-”

“Two.” 

Stan’s face paled. “Two…eight balls…we have…seven grams of coke…” His grip loosened and Rick wiggled out of his grasp, his feet back on the ground and headed inside.

“C-c’mon man! We’re planning o-on leaving to-tomorrow anyway!” He laughed, practically skipping into the run down house. Stan followed, dragging his feet, a sense of dread filling his entire being. 

Inside the house, Rick had gone around and lit the candles and lanterns, illuminating the dark room they slept in with a dim glow. He made himself comfortable at the somewhat stable table and pulled out a razor from his wallet. The man began to prepare a line for himself and one for his partner, who slowly sank into the chair next to him.

“We’re so going to get murdered…” Stan muttered, not even watching Rick get their stolen stash ready for them.

“Just an-another town to cross off on y-your cross country map!” Rick laughed, reaching over and patting the other’s cheeks. Stan glared, clearly not amused. Rick rolled his eyes before leaning over to snort the line of blow he had laid out. “Oh just do a line and r-r-relax.” 

“Yeah yeah…That’s what you always say.”

“A-a-and I’m always right!” Rick sniffed, rubbing underneath his nose and leaning back into his chair. “Th-that’s why you love me, r-right?” 

“Heh. I wish I could hate you.” Stan chuckled and shook his head as he leaned down to sniff his own line. Within a few seconds, he felt his heart beat quicken and gripped the edge of the table, allowing the time to let the drug kick in. After a minute, a warmth spread through his body and he could feel a tingling sensation starting in his finger tips. The two shared a look and a laugh, the euphoric feeling of the high starting to take over them.

“Y-you wanna do an-another one r-real quick before it takes over?”

“Bring it.”

[wastelandic-archive]

Omg omg 3 with stanchez

Three was “Please, don’t leave.” !

“Please… Don’t leave.” Was the last thing Rick had heard Stan mumble in his sleep. As much as it left a lump in his throat, Rick knew he had to go.

 Slowly, he had lifted himself from the bed and began to get dressed, his boxers, brown pants, light blue shirt, not quite sure where he left his lab coat. He began to search the messy bedroom for it, hearing Stan continue to talk in his sleep.

“Ford…” Rick stopped in his tracks, looking at the sleeping man who had muttered his twin brother’s name. He must have been dreaming about him, watching as the once peacefully sleeping man began to toss and turn in his sleep. Perhaps a nightmare? Rick sighed, there wasn’t anything he could possibly do right now as he’s trying to leave. 

It had been a mistake to come to Gravity Falls in the middle of the night, drunk but Rick had wanted just another night with his ex and finding him just as drunk and distraught wasn’t what he had intended to find but it worked. They had one more fling before the summer really started. Rick knew he would be spending more time with his grandson Morty and Stan had mentioned briefly something about his great niece and nephew coming to stay. Rick could only laugh to himself about how these two fucked up men had to watch young, impressionable children. What a joke.

Finding his lab coat and picking his portal gun up from the floor, he pressed in the coordinates for his home. Pointing it at the wall, Rick fired the trigger creating a light green portal appear. He started towards the portal when a groan from the bed caused him to look back once again.

“Wh…Rick?” Stan was sitting up in bed, looking incredibly disheveled. “Are you…where are you going?”

“T-to get ice cream.” Rick couldn’t tell him he was leaving and never coming back. Though it would be obvious to the other man once he walked through the portal and that would be it. 

“But you’re…you’re coming back, right?” Stan cracked a small, hopeful smile.

Rick frowned, taking a few minutes and watching Stan’s smile slowly fall in the soft green glow from the portal. He needed to do this. He needed to protect the other important person in his life. Rick knew things would be going to shit and if he could at least protect one person, he would. The lanky man exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, Stan. This will…probably be the last time you hear from me. So…” I’m sorry. Rick couldn’t bring himself to say anything else and right as Stan opened his mouth to say anything, he jumped through the portal and closed it but not without something falling through with him.

Rick, now in his own home, bent down to pick up the small mug that had fallen through with him. It was crummy, used, with a big question mark on it that was the symbol for the Mystery Shack. He couldn’t help but sigh and smile slightly. At least he would have this.

[wastelandic-archive]

I still have another Stanchez prompt to work on (which I'll try to get to today) but feel free to send me more! Or even ask about my ocs and whatnot! :0

[wastelandic-archive]

"Hey, I'm with you, okay? Always" with Stanchez, pleaseeee

TEEN AU!!!! It’s long.

“What?! Stanford, tell him he’s bein’ crazy!” Stan watches as a frowning Ford closes the curtains to their room. Reaching his hand towards the window, he calls for his twin. “St-stanford? Don’t leave me hangin’! H-high six?” Only to get the door slammed in his face by his father. Stanley stands for a moment, grasping the situation before becoming furious. “Fine! I can make it on my own! I don’t need you!” He’s yelling, doing everything he can to sound threatening and to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. “I’ll make millions and you’ll rue the day you turned your back on me!”

With that, he grabs his duffel bag and tosses it angrily in his car before driving off in a rage. He doesn’t look back, he shouldn’t look back, there’s no point to look back. Feeling weak, he peaks into his driver’s side window to see no one is chasing after him. Sadly, he looks at the steering wheel. What was he going to do now? No job, no home, no family…his best friend and brother has just written him off. He was dead to his family now over a dumb accident.

Stanley drove on for hours around the town, there was nothing much to Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey and not many places one could really go. He drove to the one place he found comfort in, the towns namesake, the beach. He knew it was illegal to be at the beach after sundown, but right now, where else was he going to go?

Of course, he knew in the back of his mind he did have another place to go but how pathetic would he feel? How pathetic would he feel going to a friend’s house to beg for them to let him crash on the couch for the night? Just the thought made him feel like garbage. Instead, he trudged against the sand towards the boat he and his brother had been working on their entire childhood, the Stan-o-War.

Laying on the small deck, he watched the stars, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next. Nothing was really coming to him and slowly he was realizing how incredibly fucked he was. He sighed and covered his eyes with his arms. Maybe if he was lucky, a cop would walk the beach tonight, find him and give him a cell to sleep in so that he at the very least had a roof over his head.

Of course, that was before he heard the shuffling of sand and realized that someone was headed towards the boat. “Shit.” He cursed under his breath and waited, waited for the voice of an angry officer to yell at him and take him away or something along those lines. It wasn’t until the footsteps stopped that he began to relax. That is…

A kick to the boat caused Stanley to jump up and turn to see a familiar face. “Th-thought I’d find ya here.” The teen with light blue slicked back hair burped and stepped into the boat. He held up a small cooler in his hand and pulled out a beer bottle. “Wa-wanna brewski?”

“Rick? What the heck are ya doin’ here?” Stan caught his breath. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“W-well, ugh, p-put your sh-shit back in y-your asshole. God.” He shoved the bottle into Stan’s hands and sat on the deck next to him, pulling out a bottle and popping the cap off for himself. “Je-jesus I for-forget how fu-fuckin’ small this g-goddamn boat is.”

Stan cracks a small smile, sighing and yanking the cap off his own bottle, taking a drink and letting the bitter liquor slide down his throat. “Well it was a lot bigger when Stanford and I were little…” His smile disappears and he leans his head back. “Stanford…fuck…”

“What’d that prick br-brother of you do n-n-now?” Rick burped again, leaning over onto Stanley. “N-n-need me to ki-kick his scrawny ass?”

“Heh. You’re one to talk, bein’ less scrawny than him.” Stan shook his head, gently putting his one arm around Rick, allowing him to lean the back of his head onto his chest. “Nah he did…nothing. I fucked up…Fucked up bad. And now I ain’t got no home, no family that gives two shits about me and I’mma ‘bout to sleep in this tiny ass boat tonight.”

Rick groaned. “I-I-I dunno wh-what you did but fuck sleeping in this damn boat. Y-you come stay w-with me. Like hell I’m lettin’ ya sleep out here.” Rick sat up suddenly. “B-besides. Fuck this lame booty ass town. Le-let’s fuckin’ blow th-this joint.”

“And go where, Rick? With what? Our good looks?” Stan shook his head. “Look I’ll stay at your place tonight but I gotta figure out what the hell I’m gonna do about the future.”

“F-fuck the future man! It’s b-bound to end in a bl-bloody g-goddamn mess.” Rick took a long drink from his bottle and sighed. “Y-you know I’ve told you shit about the f-future…it ain’t p-pretty, man.”

“I-I know…” Sure Stan’s listened to Rick ramble about his future predictions and some of them were scary, but Rick was known to go on and on about crazy things that he knows from an unknown source. I gotta guy he would say. “But Rick, I want to prove myself. I-I wanna make money! Show ‘em all I can be something I’m not. Fuck I wanna take this boat out and sail into the horizon and do all that treasure huntin’ I say I wanna do.”

“Then fuckin’ do it.” Rick laughs and takes a hold of Stan’s hand. “Wh-what’s st-stoppin’ ya?”

Stanley paused at that, staring out onto the black ocean. The stars bounced off the moving water, glistening, beckoning towards the teenager. He felt himself relax, intertwining his fingers with Rick. “You say you…have a guy…yanno that tells you about the future.” He pauses, swallowing hard and taking a breath. “S-so you…yanno…ask him about my future? Y-yanno…one where you go off and adventure with me?”

Rick’s quiet for a while, finishing off his bottle and staring off in space on his own, contemplating what to say. Stan does his best not to look at him, feeling his hands get all sweaty and cussing in his head. He knew this wasn’t a forever thing, everything ends sooner or later. Rick and Stan forever, 100 years, wasn’t an actual thing that was going to last forever, but god fucking dammit if Stan wasn’t going to try to keep this strange guy in his life.

Of course, he has been wrong before. Stan bit his lip and took his hand away from Rick, standing and grabbing his bag. “S-sorry I’m just…I-I’m gonna go see i-if Carla will let me stay with her…” As he begun to step out of the boat, Rick jumped up and grabbed his arm.

“Nuh-uh. N-no you ain’t. Y-you fu-fuckin’ stay r-r-r-right here.” Rick put his hands on Stanley’s face and pushed his lips onto the others. For a few moments, they stayed like that, Stanley wrapping his arms around the smaller framed teen, kissing, only coming apart shortly for air. Rick eventually was the one to pull away, showing his stupid toothy grin. “H-hey, I-I-I’m with you, okay? Always.”

[wastelandic-archive]

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” ...honestly, this is so stanchez, it hurts

AN: It really is good Stanchez prompt, thank you oh man I’m also sorry.

There was silence as his body hit the floor. Stan Pines froze, hand gripping the collar of a drunkard’s shirt, about ready to slam his fist into his face, as he turned to see Rick’s body crumpled on the ground. 

“Rick!” He cried out, throwing the drunk against the alleyway wall, and shoved one of his friends out of the way. Sliding to his knees, he turned Rick onto his back to see the man grinning weakly, blood dripping from his mouth. “Fuck, dude fuck.”

“H-heh. Yo-you could…say th-th-that again.” Rick laughed lightly, wincing as he did so. He picked his hand up from his stomach to reveal the blood seeping through his grey muscle tank, staining his hand. 

A stab wound… Stan recognized it. “Hold on, man. I’ll get you help.” Gently, he let Rick lay back on the ground. Standing and turning to face the couple of drunk’s from the bar. They stood stunned, one’s eyes bouncing from person to person, another who held the bloodied switchblade held his mouth agape.

“I-I-I…” The man dropped the blade as Stan’s fist made contact with the side of his face, a snapping sound bouncing around them. Stan stood, breathing heavy, gritting his teeth and growling. The man’s friends bolted down the alley, crying apologizes and cursing as they ran.

Stanley turned back to his bleeding friend and gingerly picked him up. “Hold tight, buddy. I’ll get you home.” He starting jogging towards his car parked in the bar’s lot. Rick grimacing and gripping a hand tightly onto the bigger man’s shirt.

It’s almost 15 minutes later that they make it back to their run down apartment, bottles of beer and other miscellaneous liquor laying about the floor. Stan stomped into the kitchen, using one arm to shove the paper plates and plastic silverware onto the floor with a soft clutter, laying Rick on the table before turning the kitchen light on. He stumbled about the kitchen, going through cabinets trying to find their medical kit.

“Wh-where the fuck is it…” Stan muttered before remembering to check under the sink and there it was. He quickly turns back to Rick and shoves the shirt up, looking at Rick who’s breath is getting shallow. He begins to panic when one of Rick’s eyelid’s flutters open slightly and a small grin shows on his pale face before he passes out. “SHIT.”

Moving quickly, Stan begins to stop the blood that’s falling from the wound and does his best to patch him up. It’s a long half hour before Stan finds tears falling down his cheeks, as he checks Rick’s breathing to find it’s stopped. It’s then that he begins to apply CPR but in this state, he’s having trouble concentrating and remembering the techniques. 

“If you die on me Sanchez,” He mutters, wiping his cheek with a bloodied hand. “I swear to god I’m going to fucking kill you…”

Losing his own breath and hope, Stan steadies himself into one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the body of his partner. He never really noticed until now how grey, small and frail Rick’s body was. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe the malnutrition from their lack of cash…but it didn’t look good. Maybe he should call someone, call an ambulance…no that wasn’t a good idea. They were already wanted by the cops for some thefts and cons, getting any kind of ambulance here would bring more unwanted problems. There was Ford but…Stan had lost contact with him long ago and he wouldn’t care enough to help him and his friend out anyway.

Miserable, Stan leaned forward, his hands in his face, ignoring the rusty smell of blood on his hands. There was a very slim chance of Rick surviving after losing all that blood, plus it wasn’t like they had a very healthy life style either. What was Stan going to do now? 

A groan comes from the table and Stan looks to see Rick’s begun coughing, a pained look from his face as he turns his head from side to side. Stan stares in disbelief, there’s no fucking way he should be alive right now. Quickly, he goes to the sink to pour water into a cup and go to Rick to shush and calm him.

“F-f-fuck, yo-yo-you taste like…” A hard cough from Rick causes him to grimace and grip onto Stan’s arm tightly. It’s a few seconds before he continues speaking. “B-b-bad.”

“You’re welcome…” Is all Stan is able to manage, a small smile on his face as he gently pulls Rick into his arms.

[alwayskaysanova]

send me a pairing and a number and i'll write you a drabble

“Come over here and make me.”

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

“Please, don’t leave.”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“I almost lost you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Teach me how to play?”

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Kiss me.”

“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

“So, I found this waterfall…”

“It could be worse.”

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

“Just once.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“I got you a present.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Marry me?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“It’s not what it looks like…”

“You lied to me.”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“I wish I could hate you.”

“Wanna dance?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You did all of this for me?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

“No one needs to know.”

“Boo.”

“Well this is awkward…”

Writer’s preference

[bluecoffeeowl-deactivated202109]

I’m not the best at writing but I wanna do some drabble. Do it!!!

[wastelandic-archive]

Caffè Macchiato

Summary: Wade hates anything complicated that isn’t a beautiful piece of music. He likes working opening shifts at the coffee shop near his house because no one orders anything complicated. At least that is until a man comes in the shop one morning and ruins everything. Author’s Note: Something with a few of my own characters. I’ve been writing about these two for almost five years now and felt that it was time to re-release them to the internet. Sure I’ll add more later. Is it a multi-chapter story or is it a one-shot? That’s to be determined.

It’s at 4am that his alarm goes off and he reaches for his phone groggily to stop it from yelling at him. Wade Pierce is 22 years old and struggles to get out of bed in the morning for his opening shift at work. It takes him a few more minutes and two more alarms before he is yawning, stretching and pulling himself from the confines of his comfortable twin size bed to start his day. He sits for a moment, the slow realization that his slumber must wait for a few hours, to realize that it’s now 4:15am and he must be at work in a half hour. Moaning, he pushes himself from the bed, groping for his glasses and lazily goes to his closet to retrieve his work uniform; a simple white button up and tie to be paired with his black jeans. He gets dressed and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and his unmanageable hair that insists on being so wavy to the point that he gives up before he gives up and heads to the kitchen. It’s now 4:23 and he knows he should be leaving now for work but he takes his time and pours himself a small bowl of cereal to eat as he double and triple checks to make sure he has everything in his book bag and that, yes he does in fact need to be at work at 4:45 this morning. It takes him longer than he planned to eat the small bowl of cereal before he rushes out the door and into the bitter cold of the morning, wishing that he had grabbed his hat on the way out.

Lucky for him, work is only about a ten minute drive and he gets there three minutes early. He parks his car and sits for a few minutes, yawning and listening to his ‘wake up’ playlist on his phone. He notices another car pull up and watches as his shift supervisor gets out of his car and heads to the door of the coffee shop to open up and realizes that he should probably follow in suit since he is the only other person opening this morning. But this is the routine every morning during the workweek. Halfheartedly, he greets his supervisor with a small wave as they walk inside together and turn the lights on.

Barista life is a little easier than Wade ever imagined. He had thought he would hate working at a coffee shop but the fact that he sometimes enjoys it, surprised him especially when it came to having to be at the store at 4:45 in the morning. His shift supervisor was normally quiet in the morning, so that definitely helped, and the two of them would make their own coffee’s first thing before loading the pastries into the case and straightening up whatever the night shift left behind. There would be some idle, dull chit chat until the both of them were fully awake and then his supervisor would turn the radio on and Wade would unlock the front doors at about 5:30am. He would have time to grab a til on the register before the first customer, one of their regulars, would talk through the doors at about quarter to six, get their pure black coffee and take seat in the big comfy orange chair with their newspaper in hand.

Customers would start to slowly drip in at 6am, all ordering plain coffee, some with room for cream, some with absolutely no room and they would leave. In between waves of morning customers, Wade would do the usual, clean the bar and register area with a semi-wet rag, make sure the pastries were stocked, brew fresh coffee, check the condiments bar, and so on. His routine in the morning would be the same until the next person came in at 6:30am, that’s normally Wade’s cue to get his fake face on and get ready to ring up the customers who are coming in to get their coffee’s for work. He watched as his sleepy coworker came out from the backroom, tying her apron on and yawning, before heading to her spot on the bar. A frown fixed upon his face for a moment, this girl was always the same, she was the most unpleasant person he worked with and he was sure to get a lot of complaints because of her because of her sour attitude. Couldn’t he just have one easy morning? No, he knew that was too much to ask for. He sighed and looked towards the door as a customer walked in.

“Good morning.” His greeting was plain, a small smile on his face as the customer returned his greeting and ordered their drink. It was a simple order, nothing uncommon. Wade uncapped his sharpie and nodded, writing on a grande cup and marking off in the correct boxes before finishing off with their name and handing it off to be made. “Thank you. It’ll be down at the bar in a few minutes.” The customer nodded and left the register only for Wade to notice the three others that had come in as he took the order. With a smile plastered on his face, the morning rush began.

It was always busy from 6:45am till about 9am. In that time frame, there was a line of customers around the lobby to the door. Eventually, the supervisor would come out from doing whatever they do in the backroom to help ring on the register, make drinks or prepare breakfast foods until another co-worker would come in, It wouldn’t be until 9:30 in the morning that Wade would get his first break, a fifteen minute one that wasn’t much time to do much of anything except sit and dread heading back onto the floor. Of course, with his luck, his break would be shortened by his supervisor calling him back onto the floor a bit early because another wave of customers had come in and the girl on the bar was having yet another breakdown. When were they just going to fire her?

Yet he knew his patience would be rewarded once the morning rush was over and all he had in the lobby area were wannabe writers, bloggers or high schoolers skipping school. Then it was quiet, he could take a deep breath and get his second coffee of the morning. Then it was when the regulars he liked came in, the ones with the most simple orders in the history of mankind, black coffee with little to no room for cream and sugar. They would never order food, always have exact change or pay with their card, wish him a good day and be gone. He didn’t understand the people that got overly upset with their orders being messed up because for heaven’s sake it was just coffee.

Slowly but surely, Wade would find himself watching the clock, waiting for it to be 11:30 or 12:30 depending on the day so that he could go home way before the high schooler’s got out of class and make a mess of his precious store. The loud chit chattering and laughter, the constant “accidental” spills of their mixed cold drinks that were almost empty so that they could get a new drink, the graffiti they would write on the walls of the bathroom and tables was not something he had the time nor the patience for and his store manager knew this. He recalls his first month working when he lost his patience with a 16 year old trying to scam them, and how he had ‘accidentally’ overheard the said 16 year old talking among their friends as he swept the floor about how he was planning on stealing the tip jar. Funny how a 20 something employee and student with a pristine record is trusted more than a 16 year old who had a not so clean record. Hilarious.

Wade glanced at the clock, 11:15, only an hour and fifteen minutes left before he could go home and...do what exactly? He was sure he had better things to do. Class work? Probably. House work? More than likely. Was he actually going do to do said things? That was still up in the air. Lately, he had been focusing more on his musical skills than anything, practicing the piano and his singing more than he had in the past which made him happy, that was for sure. Actually working on his psych homework however? Nah, he would rather sleep than even go to class. Being the 3.9 GPA student that he was, he knew he would still do the work and get a higher grade than most of the class, even if it meant putting an extra amount of work in.

He stifled a yawn as his female coworker came over to him. Rebecca, or Reba as she would prefer to be called, was cute to look at, that was for sure, but the faux hawk look on a girl just wasn’t his thing. The nose ring too? Nope, not for him. “Wade, can you watch the bar for a sec? I just gotta go make a phone call real quick, I promise!” She clasped her hands together in a desperate manner and all Wade did was roll his eye before she disappeared towards the shop’s restrooms. She should have known better than to ask Wade of all people.

“She’s really an idiot, isn’t she?” The other boy on the second register laughed, watching her disappear as well. He shakes his head and grins at Wade before heading over to the bar. “Of all the people, she asks Wade.”

Kyran had been one, if not the only, co-worker of Wade’s that did not get on his nerves. Sure his snark was something the other could have less of every day but there was an unspoken understanding between the two. Meaning, Wade would rather not work the bar and Kyran would love to work the bar. It was simple, really, Wade wasn’t much of a talker but given the scripted lines at the register and knowing that he only had to speak at most maybe 8 lines before the customer would leave made him prefer the register. Whereas at the bar, you would have customers hanging around watching, waiting, as you would make their drink orders. There were no scripted lines at the bar, it was purely general and genuine conversation between the barista and customer. At the bar, the barista would be the one leaving the lasting impression of the store and be the one that would give the customer the reason to come back, hence why they normally had the girls.

Kyran was a special case, however. Being 23 and having a smooth, velvety voice, customers would hang around longer just to hear him talk. Didn’t matter if the customer was male or female, everyone was infatuated with Kyran and his oddity. It annoyed Wade when he would be on bar how impossibly long these customers would stand around and talk to Kyran and how much he smiled and got a kick out of it. He was great for business, Wade knew that but god how annoying was it that Wade kind of admired that? He huffed and stopped watching Kyran get milks and measuring cups together, looking to the screen of his register and capping and uncapping his sharpie.

The girl eventually came back from the bathroom about 20 minutes later and all Wade could do was glare at her as she shuffled back into her spot on the bar. Kyran blew a kiss to one of the regulars and wished them a wonderful day before joining Wade back at the registers.

“You’re so annoying, you know that.” Wade frowned and began restocking the pastries.

“You’re just jealous that I’m cuter than you.” Kyran winked, leaning back against the counter behind him. “It honestly wouldn’t kill you to smile more genuinely at the customers. Takes more muscles to frown than smile, you should give your face muscles a break.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Would you stop telling me that? You say that every time we work together.”

He shrugs, pulling his cell phone out of his apron. “Just trying to watch your back, dude.”

“You should go sweep the lobby.” Wade looked over to see Kyran sticking his tongue out at him, his frown growing. “Just go do it before Cameron comes out and sees you on your phone.”

It was Kyran’s time to roll his eyes. Pocketing his phone, he went to the back to get the broom and dustpan. He came out of the back pouting, bumping his hip purposely into Wade’s back. Wade shook his head and told him to fuck off under his breath, to which, Kyran just laughed.

The clock ticks slowly as a few more customers come trickling in, there’s never any complicated orders and Wade appreciates that. He’s never one for complications. A grande soy latte here, a tall coffee with room for cream there, the simple orders made work slightly less annoying, that was for sure. That was part of why he enjoyed working at the coffee shop, especially in the mornings and early afternoon, the complicated orders were left for the evening people. Of course, there was the very rare customer that came in asking for a dirty chai tea latte with coconut milk that Wade always found frustrating but that was about it.

It wasn’t until about noon that the glass doors swung open and a tall, thin man in a suit and yellow tie walks in, on his phone finishing up what Wade could only assume was some sort of business argument. He approaches the counter, talking rapidly into his phone and Wade waits patiently for him to get off the phone. The man is obviously frustrated with whomever he’s speaking to on the other end of the phone, rubbing the back of his neck, gritting his teeth, Wade could even see the white of his knuckles from gripping the phone too hard. The suited man and Wade make eye contact and Wade feels something in his throat drop to his stomach and the older man’s green eyes glare and pierce him.

“Are you going to ask for my order, or what?” The man on the phone growls, then sighs. “Not you, dipshit, I’m at a coffee shop, hold on a tick.” He places his phone on the counter and continues to stare at Wade.

It took a second for Wade to find his voice. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I was just...we don’t…”

“Don’t what?” The man barked. “Don’t do your job?”

Wade felt his cheeks flush as he glared back, digging in and speaking more confidently. “Don’t take orders from people who come to the register on their phones. I’ll gladly take your order when-”

The man put his phone back to his ear, getting more annoyed and told the other person he would call him back before hanging up and smirking at Wade. “Happy?” Wade nodded in response. “Great. Great. Give me a triple venti sugar free, nonfat, no foam, extra caramel, with whip caramel macchiato. Then pour regular coffee down the side with two packs of raw sugar and a stir stick on the side.”

Wade bit his lip, his hand hovering over the venti cup because of course this annoying man had a complicated drink order. With his sharpie in hand, he marked off the boxes and took a medium cup to write black coffee on. “Can I get your name, sir?” He said in the most polite and unimpressed voice.

“Franco.” Franco. Of course the name would be something like that, Wade laughed in his head.

“$7.99.” Franco handed Wade a twenty dollar bill and now he just assumed he wanted to make him even more annoyed. “$12.01 is your change and your drink will be down at the bar momentarily.”

The man just nodded, already pressing the redial button on his phone to continue his phone conversation. Wade watched as he leaned his elbow against one of the espresso machines and talk, or now rather yell, at the person on the other end. He knew the drink order would take a while, and could see the distress in Reba’s face when she read the cup, maybe it was karma for her disappearing for so long. Wade smirked to himself as he walked into the back to clock out, he was done for the day.

With his beanie back on his head and his red hoodie zipped halfway up, he walked back onto the floor to find that Franco had gone. Reba was cleaning up a spill by the espresso machine with a sour look on her face that Wade couldn’t help but feel good about. He passed his goodbye to Kyran as he walked out from behind the counter and out the door. The fall weather was creeping up on him ever so quietly and he wished he had brought his fall jacket as well, cursing under his breath and zipping his hoodie up completely. He gripped his keys and walked quickly to his car, unlocking it and shivering as he got in and started it, immediately turning the heater on. Wade sighed, leaning back against the driver’s seat and closing his eye to relax, focusing on the low hum of the engine, incredibly glad to be out of work for the time being. That man, Franco...the way his eyes pierced through Wade’s unsettled him. He never liked suits, and Franco had given him more reason not to like them, silently thankful that he could just wear a button up only occasionally. First thing he would do when he got home today was the laundry so he could wear his polo to work tomorrow.

A yawn escaped from Wade and he reached over to pull his seat belt on and start heading home where he could relax, play some video games, do laundry and not think about that irritating man Franco. Definitely not think about Franco.

[wastelandic-archive]

Sloppy Seconds [4]

Summary: [College - Crime AU] Rick Sanchez is an insane yet brilliant mind at West Coast Tech, the only thing getting in his way is his constant drinking and the fact that he’s getting kicked out after all this time. He finds his solace in a younger, more athletic and attractive Pines twin, drugs, sex, violence, more alcohol and a few robberies. Fandoms: Gravity Falls - Rick and Morty Warnings: Drugs, sex, violence and some rock n roll. It’s a mess of shit. Author’s Note: The more and more I write this, the more and more I feel like shipping trash and need to make sure I write this when I’m home alone.

Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] of ?

4.

“What do you mean you dont’ have any cash?” Stan hissed as Rick continued to shove fries in his mouth. The two of them had found a diner to sit and eat at, both ordering a burger and some fries. When the waitress, who had been patient and kind to them, left to get the check it was only then that Rick mentioned having no money.

“I mean, I’m a br-broke college student wh-who wasn’t payin’ to live in his apartment.” He drank the rest of his soda, making a loud sucking sound through the straw. “Fr-free loading was one of my offenses, ‘member?”

Stan put his hands in his face, groaning. “You should have fuckin said something then.”

Rick shrugged. “What about you? D-don’t you have cash?”

“Used most of it for gas. I think I got like a buck fifty left on me.”

“Well,” Rick burped. “Ugh, us-use that.”

“Pretty sure the bill is more than a dollar fuckin’ fifty.” Stan growled and started going through his pockets, trying to dig up any sort of loose change he had before a realization hit him. “Shit.”

“Wh-what.”

“Wallet’s in the car.” Stan scooted out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

‘Fucking asshole...’ Stan thought to himself as he headed out to his car. The man doesn’t care for anyone but his goddamn self. What a headache... He reached his car and started filtering about the garbage, throwing a few things in a plastic bag to toss in the near by trash can.

After being able to throw a few things out, he managed to find his wallet and right before shutting the door to the car, Rick strolled outside and immediately pulled open the passenger side door.

“L-let’s get outta here.”

Stan, confused, peered into his car, seeing Rick getting comfortable, a few fries in his hand. “What? We still have to-”

“I-it’s a dine n dash now get in the fu-fuckin’ car and let’s get th-the fuck outta here!” Rick leaned over and grabbed Stanley’s shirt, pulling him in causing Stan’s face met Rick’s leg as he fell. The skinny man laughed as a flustered Stanley pushed himself back up and into his seat. “N-now hurry the fu-fuck up, the m-m-manager’s on his way out the door.”

Speaking of the said devil, the manager was waving and yelling as Stanley peeled out of the parking lot and all Rick could do was laugh and yell back, leaning out of the window. It was Stan’s turn to pull Rick back in the car.

“Would you knock it off already?! Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Oh come on like y-you’ve ne-never done that before.” Rick glowered. “Shit we’re both fl-flat broke and if-if-if you think I’m stickin’ round to work off th-that bill then you’re the one wh-who’s fu-fuckin’ crazy!”

Stan gripped the wheel, about to talk back when they heard the sirens and saw flashing blue and red lights. Both turned to see a police car following them. “Shit, seriously?! Over a damn dine n dash?”

“Preeeeeeeeeetty sure you ran a light, bro.” Rick chuckled and then pointed at the speedometer. “Also y-you’re speeding. Dumbass.”

“FUCK!” Stan started to slow down.

“W-WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Rick yelled, punching the driver’s shoulder. “Get the FUCK away from them!”

“And WHAT, Rick?” Stan yelled back. “Get ARRESTED for EVADING THE POLICE? Hahaha cause that’s not going to be the only fuckin’ thing I’m gonna get arrested for!”  At this point, Stan was steaming mad, a switch flipped in his head and he glared out the front windshield. “Oh fuck it. Hold tight.” Stan gripped the wheel and pressed on the pedal.

Rick’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his face. “Fuckin’ A, let’s DO IT, MAN!” He laughed and bounced in his seat, yelling directions and Stan followed.

The cop car wasn’t giving up the chase, however, gaining on them.

“Sh-shit, Stan. Fu-fucker is right on our tail.” Rick gripped Stan’s shoulder, looking back and forth between the traffic in front of them and the car close behind them.

Stan bit his lip, trying to find an escape route, anything would be good at this point. That’s when he saw the train tracks. “Rick. Sit back in your seat.” Stan jerked the steering wheel, avoiding a car and causing an accident in the process and started down the tracks. Rick sat back in the seat, holding his breath as they sped down the train tracks.

Soon the lights and sirens were just a distant memory as the two made themselves comfortable in the train yard, Rick on top of Stan.

“Th-that. W-was. FUCKING. AWESOME!” Rick moaned in between the hard kisses. The adrenaline was pumping through their veins, each other being very rough with the other. “Wh-who knew, St-Stanley Pines...evading the cops!”

Stan laughed and made contact with Rick’s lips once again. “S’not the first time, Sanchez.”

“Yeah ye-yeah. Yo-you-you’re going to tell me the st-story later.” Rick moved his hands down Stan’s chest to the edge of his shirt and started pulling it up. “Ri-right now, y-you’re going to fu-fuck me in your car, go-got it?”

Stanley took a deep breath as he allowed Rick to remove his shirt and leaned back in the driver side seat. He was still unsure about all of it, thinking about how the first time was going to be the only time, but here was Rick, kissing on his neck and moving off to start undoing his belt. Stan’s face was flushed, he could feel the heat in his cheeks and decided that yeah he wanted this too. 

He nodded and smirked. “Yeah. But,” He took hold of Rick’s wrists to stop him from unzipping his jeans. “I see an open train car with our names written on it.”

[wastelandic-archive]

Sloppy Seconds [3]

Summary: [College - Crime AU] Rick Sanchez is an insane yet brilliant mind at West Coast Tech, the only thing getting in his way is his constant drinking and the fact that he’s getting kicked out after all this time. He finds his solace in a younger, more athletic and attractive Pines twin, drugs, sex, violence, more alcohol and a few robberies. Fandoms: Gravity Falls - Rick and Morty Warnings: Drugs, sex, violence and some rock n roll. It’s a mess of shit. Author’s Note: This one kinda took some time and I’m like three chapter’s behind so going to try to whip them out as quickly as I can. Thanks for being patient!

Chapter [1] [2] [3] of ?

3.

“Harassment both verbally and physically, being drunk in class and on campus during the day, carrying this s-switchblade of mine, noise complaints, fr-free loading, I slept with one of the professors, wasn’t even one of mine.” Rick laughs. “Got a couple other offenses but never have I ever ch-cheated on an exam or plagiarized.” He nodded as a matter of factly.

Stan just chuckled and shook his head. They had seen a few students run out of the apartment building as they pulled out of the parking lot in Stan’s beat up burgundy 1965 El Diablo Convertible. They knew it wouldn’t be long till the police and fire department showed and as much as Rick begged Stan to let them stay and watch, Stan drove off and got them off campus as quickly as possible. 

Rick had suggested driving up 1-405 south towards LA and so about twenty minutes into the drive Stan had started to make easy conversation, so why not start with Rick’s offenses?

“O-Oh!” Rick, with an arm hanging from the passenger side window, said. “I was s-selling drugs to s-some idiot freshman too. Th-that was a riot.” A dark, hearty chuckle came from the man as he reached into his book bag and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, man.” Stan tried and unsuccessfully hid his laugh. 

“My f-folks are sure as sh-shit proud, huh?” Rick lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “W-wanna smoke?”

“Yeah, g’head and light me up one.” Stan takes the cigarette Rick hands him and lights it, taking a light drag. “So what’s in LA? Your folks?”

Rick just laughs. “F-fuck no! You th-th-think I’m going t-to go back to th-that shit show? Fuck. That.”

“Then why LA?”

“Freedom, man.” Rick pulls the lever on the passenger side chair and pushes it back some, putting his feet up on the dashboard. “Do wh-whatever the fuck I want. Research my own shit, ca-cause some trouble, drugs are ch-cheaper up there i-if you find the right guy. Pl-plenty of chicks and dudes who’ll fu-fuck a crazy dude like me. C-can make music and m-maybe restart my band. I go-got options.”

Stan sat in silence as Rick continued to list off many reasons why LA of all places. It seemed like this guy had an idea or two about what he could do and he knew he wasn’t an idiot. The guy was a certified genius, or so he said. The air of confidence hanging around Rick was incredible, Stan couldn’t help but kind of admire him for it.

“LA is one of th-those ‘get rich o-or die tryin’ places and I-I’m willing to get rich and n-not die.” Rick takes a long drag from his cigarette and tosses the butt out the window.

“Well good luck to ya on that.” There was a small hint of doubt in Stan’s voice that Rick picked up on. He frowned, slightly glaring at the driver before turning onto his side and shutting his eyes.

“I’m t-takin’ a nap.” Rick snorted. “S-someone kept me up w-with all th-their snoring and sh-shit last night.”

Stan just rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

It took about an hour to reach LA with Stan only stopping once for gas. Rick had slept for the last half of the trip which wasn’t as bad as Stan had thought. He had caught himself looking over at the pale, bony man and just admiring his body and kept shaking his head to stop thinking such idiotic thoughts. He was into women for heaven’s sake! Sleeping with Rick was just a one night drunken fling. Or, you know, so he had thought. He wasn’t expecting to be driving the guy to LA when Stan had driven cross country to visit his brother. Of course, it wasn’t like Ford even knew Stan was in town or even at his college.

It had been a couple of years since Stan had been kicked out and separated from his twin. He hadn’t tried contacting him until recently but it wasn’t as if he knew a number to call or an address to write to so he had decided to just drive and search for him. Unfortunately, Stan was a bit of a chicken shit. Just what would he have said to his brother anyway? Hey Sixer! Sorry for being such a fucking asshole! Hey do you have any cash I could borrow? Can I crash on your couch? 

He thought maybe it was a good thing he had met Rick Sanchez. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to reconnect with his brother, it wasn’t like Ford had any interest in going sailing and treasure hunting anymore. It was all just a dream that only Stan still held for the two of them.

“H-hey, I’m hungry, l-l-let’s go find some food.”

“Heh. Sure. But you’re buyin’.”

[wastelandic-archive]

Quick update on Sloppy Seconds. Next two parts will be coming soon, trying to get my internet fixed plus been working a lot so please be patient, it'll come I promise.

[wastelandic-archive]

oh my god i am in love with your stanchez fanfiction it's the first fanfic of that pairing i've read so far and let me tell you it's only dragging me deeper into this hell sloppy seconds is really great!!

AH man THANK YOU SO MUCH!! It’s been hell writing it but good hell you know?? too many ideas in my head but i wanna keep it nice and concise. I’m glad you are enjoying it!! Please feel free to come back and let me know how you enjoy it as I post more!!

[wastelandic-archive]

Sloppy Seconds [2]

Summary: [College - Crime AU] Rick Sanchez is an insane yet brilliant mind at West Coast Tech, the only thing getting in his way is his constant drinking and the fact that he’s getting kicked out after all this time. He finds his solace in a younger, more athletic and attractive Pines twin, drugs, sex, violence, more alcohol and a few robberies. Fandoms: Gravity Falls - Rick and Morty Warnings: Drugs, sex, violence and some rock n roll. It’s a mess of shit. Author’s Note: So it’s been a week since I put out the first chapter and I guess I’m going to try to update this weekly. Please feel free to leave asks! I want to get some feedback! Thanks!

Chapter [1] [2] of ?

2.

When Stan wakes, it takes him a few minutes to realize that he’s not in a run down motel room or his car. He allows himself sometime before slowly sitting up, holding his pounding head to get a good look around the room. There’s notebooks and paper strewn about the room, broken number 2 pencils, bottles of different kinds of alcohol, a light blue electric guitar sitting in the only somewhat clean corner of the room, clothes and other small miscellaneous items. He notices near the edge of the bed a familiar pair of boxer shorts, namely his boxer shorts. Stan double checks by looking under the blanket to clarify that, yes indeed, he was, in fact, nude in this bed.

“Aww geez…” He groans and puts his face into his hands as he recalls the night before. How he had driven all the way to California, gone to West Coast Tech to try to find Stanford and was unsuccessful, decided to try again the next day only to go to a nearby bar and get drunk with a man who knew his brother. He remembers lots of kissing, lots of biting and pulling on the skinny man’s hair, stumbling about and making it to said man’s apartment and engaging in some heated drunken sex. Stan could only imagine how bad his neck must look because damn did it hurt.

In another room, Stan heard the sound of a shower being turned off and waited a bit until the owner of the apartment came out clad in nothing but the bath towel tied around his hips. The bruises and bite marks on the other’s neck and shoulder had bruised in the couple of hours they’d been asleep and Stanley could assume his were probably just as bad. Stanley watched as the other walked about the room, sniffing and coughing every so often as he was gathering things.

“H-here.” He had said finally, tossing Stan his shirt along with a water bottle.

“Oh, uh...thanks.” Stan gripped the white tee in his hands and turned it back from being inside out and pulled it on before leaning forward to reach for his boxers to do the same. The silence was a bit uncomfortable.

Rick (that was it! That was his name. Stan felt like an idiot forgetting his name.) finally breaks the silence by tossing a pizza box on the bed and falling in suit next to Stan. “Eat up. I-it’s cold but sh-shit’s better than anything else I got.”

Stan mutters a thanks before the two of them finish off the last few pieces of cold pizza. There’s some idle chit chat between the two of them after they eat and Rick gets dressed and begins packing up a suitcase. Stan’s curious but he knows it isn’t his place to ask this complete stranger what he was planning on doing. Wasn’t he bragging last night about how West Coast Tech would be nothing without him and that they couldn’t afford to lose such a brilliant mind? He wandered about the small apartment while Rick held his guitar, contemplating if he wanted to keep it or not. Stan noticed a letter on the ground near Rick’s desk with West Coast Tech’s head printed at the top. He looked to see that Rick had disappeared back into his bathroom and that the guitar was sitting on top of the suitcase before reaching down for the letter.

“Dear Mr. Rick Sanchez” it read, “This letter is to inform you of the final resolution of the disciplinary matter brought against you. As you know, West Coast Technical College does not promote violence among the student body and with the continuous complaints brought about you from other students it is within our best interest to release you from the university. We ask that you vacate the premises by the end of the month and finish paying the remainder of your tuition in a timely manner.” At the end, it was signed by the vice president of the university. 

“Sucks huh?” Rick put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, causing him to jump. He took a drink from the flask in his hand. “So do me a favor be-before ya go snoopin’ th-through other’s shit. Don’t.” Rick snatched the letter out of Stan’s hand and walked over to a small table where a pile of paper had been formed. Rick slid his shoes and leather jacket on, reaching into an inside pocket to place the flask there and take out a lighter. He flicked the lighter until a small flame appeared and begun to run the flame at the edge of the expulsion letter. “Ya might wanna get your sh-shit together, Stanley. We’re getting outta here.”

Stan nodded, gathering what he was about to do, and quickly put on his boots and grabbed his jacket as he made a start for Rick’s door. The letter was burning, Rick set it on the top of the stack of papers and watched for a moment before throwing his book bag on his back and grabbing his suitcase and guitar.

“You’re just gonna let the place burn?” Stan opened the door as Rick came close.

“Fuck yeah, motherfucker!” Rick grinned as he and Stan left the apartment. “I got wh-what I need from this place. It’s holding me back anyway. So-so do me a favor and let me hitch a ride with ya out of this shitty place.”

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle and nod. “Sure. Why not you crazy motherfucker. What’d they expel you for anyway?”

“Everything.”

[wastelandic-archive]

So you gonna write anymore of that fic CAUSE I NEED MORE!!!!

HI YES I have majority of it planned out already I just have to sit and write it when I’m not working! Haha I’m glad you enjoyed it!! Please stick around for the rest of it!!

[wastelandic-archive]

Sloppy Seconds

Summary: [College - Crime AU] Rick Sanchez is an insane yet brilliant mind at West Coast Tech, the only thing getting in his way is his constant drinking and the fact that he's getting kicked out after all this time. He finds his solace in a younger, more athletic and attractive Pines twin, drugs, sex, violence, more alcohol and a few robberies. Fandoms: Gravity Falls - Rick and Morty Warnings: Drugs, sex, violence and some rock n roll. It’s a mess of shit.

Chapter 1 of ?

0.

“Heh. We really outdid ourselves this time, R.” The husky voiced man leaned back from around the counter and hid back down. “There’s gotta be at least ten cops right there...god knows how many are waitin’ around the building.”

He looked over at his partner who was hunched over fiddling with something, the bags of money between them. He could never imagine this, being cornered by the police after a nearly successful bank robbery? That’s shit you read about in the paper, it didn’t happen to people like him. Maybe to people like his partner and the other three, but not him...at least that’s what he had thought.

The athletic man took a deep breath and looked around the area near them, there were a few windows but he knew they would be watched by the cops. Plus, even if they did make a run for it, they would be shot at for sure. He couldn’t guarantee their safety at all.

So for the time being, he sat there, behind one of the bank teller counters with his lanky partner in crime working away at something he had hidden in his jacket. “God, R. I swear, if this shit you’re fiddin’ with doesn’t kill us, I’ll do that myself.”

1.

West Coast Tech located in upper California was one, if not the most elite science focused university in all of the United States. Only the best of the best were accepted after months of being quizzed and scrutinized over. Now most would say that these brainiacs did all they could during the week to keep their genius in tact. No one would ever expect these aspiring scientist to be doing anything but experiments or studying on the weekends. Granted that was true for most of them. Most of them.

Unfortunately, Rick Sanchez was not one for ‘conforming to the norm’. No, not brilliant and insane twenty three year old grad student Rick Sanchez! He could be found on the weekends out drinking at a nearby bar, partying with neighbouring university frats and sororities, or playing with his band, The Flesh Curtains. Yes, Rick Sanchez was not a model student for incoming freshman or high school seniors visiting the campus as he was drunk a good 75-90% of the time, burping in their faces, laughing at them and being a general asshole to them. But given the amount of new technology he was already expert at, WCT could not afford to lose him.

Or, you know, so he thought.

“Waaassss urrrrrrp b-bitchessss!” An already intoxicated Rick pushed himself into the living room of an ongoing frat party. Cheers of his name echoed throughout the room as several other party goers moved into his space, one handing him a cup filled with whatever alcohol they had on standby and another offering a joint. This was the life, he would find himself thinking at these point. Attractive women and men pressing themselves upon him, making sure his cup was never empty. The smoke from the pot, the lights, the music causing his world to sway with every step. God he loved it. All of it. It made him forget about the stress of school, of the expectations left on his shoulders by his overbearing parents - fuck, if they could see him now!

He would stay out till god awful hours and find himself stumbling back to WCT, up the stairs to the apartments on campus and linger outside the door of one Stanford Pines. The little prick was a year younger and almost as smart as him (almost). He was just like the rest of the assholes Rick found himself around and it irritated him.

“H-hey!” He slammed his fist on the door. “S-s-sixer! Open your fuckin DOOR.” He covered his mouth as he burped and leaned against the wall next to the door. It felt like an hour but a few moments later, the door opened slightly showing the shorter six fingered man, his glasses on the edge of his nose and he did not look pleased. Rick smirked and waved. “M-mooooooornin urrp, Fordie.”

“For heaven's sake, Sanchez. It’s 4:30 in the morning and we have class in--” Ford was cut off by Rick burping loudly and shoving his way in.

“Yeah yeah.” Rick messed with Ford’s bed head and moved towards the couch in the living area. “You have class at a-asscrack o’clock in the g-g-gooooooddamn mornin’. Tha’s not my urrrp my problem~.”

Ford huffed, locking the door behind him and shuffling to where the drunken man was shifting through the cabinets. It was becoming pretty normal for his “rival” (that’s what Rick had dubbed them one drunken night, somewhat similar to tonight) to show up inebriated and then pass out somewhere in his apartment. He cleaned off the coffee table and couch that was littered with research papers and filed them neatly into one of his many research boxes then through a spare blanket onto the couch.

“At least make it to the couch this time…” Ford grumbled. “I don’t need to wake up to you asleep in my tub again.”

That sparked laughter from Rick who, with a box of crackers in his hand, walked over and put his arm around Ford causing him to stiffen up. “I betcha you’re one h-helluva drunk.” He burped loudly and stuffed some crackers into his mouth.

“Ugh...you reek of marijuana…” Ford side eyed Rick’s armpit hair and noted how he would need to disinfect his shirt later. He pushed the taller man away and started to head to his room.

“Awwwwwww, P-poindexter maaaad h-h-he didn’t get to, to, to join in on the fun?” Rick dropped the box of crackers onto the floor and followed Ford who protested as he shoved his way into his room. He reached into his pants pocket and removed a joint and extended it to Ford. “Y-you wa-wanna toke?”

“What have I told you about bringing that filth into here?!” Ford was furious, he reached for the joint and threw it across his room. This was the last straw. Normally Rick was good about not bringing any of his toxins into the apartment, but no tonight Ford could not handle it. “You need to get out of here this instant! I don’t want anything to do with you and your antics, Rick Sanchez!” He shoved past Rick and pulled his door open, pointing towards the entrance of the apartment. “OUT.”

Rick grinned, in his drunken demeanor he wasn’t able to take Ford seriously. In all honestly, that so called ‘joint’ was just a piece of toilet paper rolled up but it wasn’t like he expected Ford to know that. “J-j-jesus, Fordie. I was j-just fuckin’ with ya.”

“OUT, SANCHEZ. NOW.” Ford growled. Rick’s grin fell.

“You’re a-actually mad.” He burped. “J-jeeeeeeesus. Yo-yo-you’re g-g-gonna just toss a-a-a drunk out the door?”

“YES.” Ford pulled on Rick’s arm and dragged him through the apartment. “Even if I need to toss you out myself.”

Rick pulled his arm out from the other’s grasp. “F-fuck you, Stanford! You you...six f-fingered freak!” He stood straight, giving himself a full head taller on Ford and shoved him, causing him to trip and fall over onto his couch. “I kn-know where the go-goddamn door is. Urrrrrrp. You ain’t th-the first to shove Rick fuckin’ Sanchez out the d-door!” He stumbled angrily to the door, heaving it open and disappeared down the hall, not before flipping off Ford and yelling something about how Stanford Pines is the best cock sucker in all of West Coast Tech.

Ford had made it to the door just in time to see his neighbours looking confused and angry at him. He sighed and closed his door embarrassed. “Goddamnit, Sanchez…”

Rick found himself wandering about the campus, unable to actually care what time it was or who would see him being his good and wonderfully drunk self. Ford had pissed him off and he was cold and did not feel like going back to his apartment alone. Perhaps he could visit one of his frequently visited bars and pick up some hot girl to have angry sex with. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

He stumbled into the bar nearly twenty minutes later and took his perch at the bar, ordering his usual and scanning the crowd. It was slim pickings for a Sunday night, or rather, Monday morning. He would settle for a 3 or 4 out of 10 on the scale he supposed. After a few sips of his drink however, he realized that there was no one he even was remotely aroused by in the bar. Ford’s face kept appearing his his face and he wanted nothing but to hit him in the face with his fist or his dick, he didn’t care which one. Rick couldn’t understand why the thought of that was even arousing to him and was wishing slightly he hadn’t pissed him off, maybe he could of finally fucked him tonight and gotten whatever this was off his chest. The lean man turned back to the bar counter and dug his fingernails into his scalp. God no, fuck Stanford Pines and his dumb fucking face.

“Rough night?” A husky voice next to him asked.

“HA!” Rick burped and let his hands drop onto the counter. “I've h-had worse.”

“I feel that.” The voice chuckled.

Rick glanced to his side and jumped, a bit startled. “What th-the fuck y-you doing, Sixer?” Ford? At a bar? “Y-you fuck’n f-f-followin me?”

The man blinked. “Sixer?” It took him a moment but he seemed to connect what the man meant. He lifted his hands and spread his fingers. “I ain’t the six-fingered Pines if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

Rick counted and by fuck he was right. Five fingers, but a near exact replica of Stanford fucking Pines. Near because this man was more athletic, had more stubble on his strong chin, a different way of speaking and did not wear any huge nerd glasses. He had to be more drunk than he thought. Rick pinched himself to make sure that yes, he was still awake.

“J-jesus Christ…” Rick laughed and pinched the other man to make sure he was real. “W-wow.” He burped. “Sixer’s outdone himself f-for su-sure this time. A clone. W-wowie wh-why didn’t I think about that? O-oh-oh oh oh w-w-wait I did.” He furrowed his brow at the other and took a drink.

The clone glowered at Rick and put his hands around the mug of his beer. “I ain’t no fancy fuckin’ clone. I’m my own person, Stanley Pines. Separate from that smug brainiac I got for a twin brother.”

“Twin brother you say?” Rick rolled his eyes. “Sure. Urrrrrrp. T-t-toooootally believe ya on that. Uh huh. S-sure. Gu-guess tha’s a lot better ex-explaination for it.”

Stanley rolled his eyes in return. “Geez. What bit you in the ass?” He grumbled and took a drink.

“Urrrrrrp your brother.”

Stanley began to cough, slamming his pint on to the counter. “Ex-excuse me?!”

“I-it’s a sayin’, yo-you idiot.” Rick finished off his drink and slid it down to the bartender. “Yo-your brother is an asshole and ki-kicked me out of his apartment t-tonight.”

“Ah...yeah Ford ain’t one for company.”

“Ha-hasn’t really bo-bo-bothered him any other night.” Rick leaned back and stretched. “Wh-whaaatever. Fu-fuck your brother.” He looked over the twin and smirked. “S-sides, se-seems like you got the good lookin’ genes in the pool.”

This time it was Stanley’s turn to smirk, he leaned his arm on the counter and looked at Rick. “Yeah, tell me about it. I got the looks and he got the brain.”

“Pffffffft ye-yeah. Brain. Ki-kickin’ out a drunk person in the m-middle of the night. Man’s a fu-fuckin’ GENIUS.”

The two shared a laugh and maybe it was the alcohol and the shared distaste for one Ford Pines, but as the hour progressed the two of them found themselves absorbed in each other. Rick eventually leaning onto Stan as they played a game of darts, snaking his hand down and grabbing the athletic man’s butt. One thing led to another and as the two left the bar as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Rick decided that leaving the bar with a 9 instead of a 3 was an even better idea.

“H-hey Stanley.” Rick grabbed the collar of his shirt as they approached the shorter man’s car and shoved his lips onto his. The other took a moment to return the kiss and after a few sloppy kisses, they broke for air. "Y-your place o-o-o-or mine?"