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headphonegrl · 1 year

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“I can’t tell if I like them or not.” When Jude was walking through the aisles of the supermarket he thought the idea of ketchup-flavored crisps was a good one, but now after trying them he’s not so sure. Something in him seems to get giddy when he’s in foreign shops, like the feeling of being on holiday as a kid comes rushing back to him all at once.

You laugh at the confused face he’s pulling, the sunset behind you is melting into the beach in a swirl of orange and pink. The kind of sky that only follows after an unbearably hot day. “You’re still eating them.”

“I need to make up my mind.” He rubs his hands together to rid them of crumbs and sand. If he wasn’t exhausted from swimming for almost two hours straight, he would get up from his towel and try to shake some of the sand off it.

“I’ve made up mine.” You lean over to point at the text on the packet. A couple of days ago you both bought matching bracelets from a market stall, and now yours is soaking wet against your skin and planting big droplets of water wherever you move your hand. “Morally wrong.”

“You haven’t tried one!” He adjusts to lean on his side, resting his cheekbone against the palm of his hand. There’s a sudden breeze of wind that smells like saltwater and it moves your hair around like you’re in a pretty dream sequence. He watches as you pull your towel tighter over your shoulders, moving so your knees are closer to your chest. “Are you cold?”

“No.” You flutter your eyelashes shut, placing your temple against the tops of your knees. “I’m okay.”

Jude only responds by making a content humming noise. The sun is right behind the side of your face and it’s making you look so pretty that he doesn’t want to waste the moment on something so unimportant as words. He wants to take a mental picture, he wants this to be the screensaver of his brain. The way your skin is covered in a sheen of sand like that mermaid on television he had a childhood crush on. The way there’s still a little gleam of water on the tops of your cheeks. He needs every detail so he can save them in the drawers of his mind, so there’s a place to go when he’s feeling glum.

He clears his throat like he wants to say something profound, but nothing seems to sit right on his tounge. So instead he does what he did when you both kissed for the first time, on that bench in the torrential rain. The same gesture as when he saw you in that pretty sundress, on his doorstep like there should be a halo floating above your head. The exact thing he did when he told you he loved you, on a random Saturday morning while watching cartoons.

He reaches out to wrap his fingers around your wrist, moving to press the palm of your hand against the side of his chest. Right over where his heart sits, so you can feel how fast it’s beating against his ribcage.

“What?” It’s so quiet that it probably couldn’t even be categorized as a whisper, more like you’ve taken a little inhale of breath. Jude knows you’re only saying it because you’re flustered, not because you’re confused. That there’s this understood clause in your relationship about what the gesture means. That it’s saved for when things can’t be put into words.

He holds your fingers there until he really feels like his heart might burst, like your hand might burn a print into his skin. Wondering how everyone who’s ever been in love has managed to survive it, how they came out the other end alive without melting into one big embarrassing puddle. Though he supposes that too would be hard to put into words, so instead he just says – “You look very pretty.”

#i tried to write tension the other day but it came out a bit #idek #im writing for other ppl dont worry #OTHER BOYFS INCOMING #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer fluff #footballer x you #football imagines #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #my writing

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crossbackpoke-check · 11 months

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Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

#me when everybody is posting the maple leafs sad narratives and i am furiously generating this like HOLD ONNNN HOLD ONNNNNNN #honestly i could've been SOOOO MEAN about this because i saw this poem & alexandra got the preview on the poetry blog #where i just reblogged the first half of this poem point blank with the tags #kyle dubas #toronto maple leafs #& got yelled at aksdaksf & it literally only didn't go on this blog bc i usually write more & then it was percolating & i looked up the poe #& it was only the FIRST PART i'd reblogged i didn't know there was more & then brain immediately went brrrrr ok time for an edit.#this is a long one lol & i also have no idea if it makes sense to anybody but me but because y'all know me i will always overexplain so!!#my reasoning for the reasons obvi kyle. that's a given i hope he's doing well i hope he & his family r good but man is not coming in to wor #the second edit took me a stupid amount of time bc i am nitpicky but also i learned how to do the layers & transparency from the claude edi #that actually y'all don't know about lmao but i lost my mind when i saw how perfectly those pictures align i was scrolling getty & was like #ok december i'm gonna do a headline one (in my brain with the november/june quote about choosing to die again) w/ maple leafs playoff odds #how they say at winter break you know who's gonna be in the playoffs & who'll win & they thought they had a shot but it's mitchie overlaid #the 2003-04 team who'd last won a playoff round with the atlantic division stats from dec for 22-23 & how long it's been & dec headlines #i wanted breakup/recent/never loved to be a recent trade acquisition somebody who bounced around & somebody else so i almost had simmer #brodie & zar but then i wanted to make murray for breakup at any time &i forgot zar & him were on the pens together &it hit me like a truc #bc there's a photo of the two of them EXACTLY the same so close it's scary of this one but them as pens so they had to be it & i did always #know never loved again was mitchie. sorry. also mitchie in the penalty box the last game but i couldn't find footage of it & this one works #no i could not find a photo of tyler bertuzzi fighting a leaf for a dog looked at me yes i tried.#i almost made the bunting photo jt but instead it's 'bunting a rat etc' anyway the one i really feel unhinged about is dead pets bc at firs #i was gonna make it the handshake line & look to see if the leafs had drafted anybody on the panthers (dead pet former draft pick)#& they had & it was carter verhaeghe & i couldn't get a good pic of matthews & verhaeghe but it's fine bc i thought about the mo/luke schen #narrative (in which they are a perfect d pair long lost) & schenn was drafted by the leafs & that line fits jut trust me. also how i feel #about the kniesy luminous line that one possessed me it had to be kniesy idk why. i almost put gussy as girls are too pretty though ALSO #did u like my joke. daylight SAVINGS time on the goalie. thank u. also my photo magic on the jt (me very poorly editing in him as an isle)#OK ALSO HOLD ONNNNN there is a part two but i have to wait for the Content i want it will come out as soon as [redacted] or sooner #if i get bad at waiting &everyone will pretend like it is always the way it will be once i have the photos i want. speaking of did the leaf #simply not take a team photo this year?? it Does Not Exist for me i have tried very hard to look for it also i'm excited for part 2 #one of them is named oh you're so unhinged for this one & the finished product is you're unhinged in ways you didn't even know u were sorry #liv in the replies

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desceros · 5 months

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Mr. LEON (think late 30's/early 40's) reuniting with his spouse after a long time away. It's sweet, it's silly, it's followed by absolutely nasty half-clothed, sweaty sex.

me, asks for rise leo prompts, instantly regrets it also i'm not saying this is a tactical!leo fic, but i'm also... not NOT saying it leonardo/reader, EXPLICIT, female reader, 2.6k; leo comes back and wants to smell like home again. filthy nasty smut, soft doki dokis, lame married people jokes, one (1) defiled couch

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, you don’t think twice when you see the rustle of your curtains. Not when you’ve finally, finally trained your stupid heart into not thundering out of your chest when you see it, thinking he’s back when it’s just the breeze. Today, you hardly even glance at them as you continue watering your plants, unbothered, humming, unsuspecting.

It’s so, so typical of him to wait until now to come home.

“Boo!”

Your scream fills the apartment as you flail, pulse rocketing to the atmosphere in panic when you’re very suddenly not alone. Hands catch you mid-flinch, and it takes you a second to realize that your assailant is, in fact, perfectly safe and didn’t deserve the mighty swing of your watering can.

Except actually, yes he did, this little asshole—!

“Leo!” you wail, letting him gather you close and press him to his plastron. Your hands clutch at the edge of his keratin, face burrowing in his throat. “You fucking asshole, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn’t resist,” he says, his laughter still rolling at the crown of your head as one hand spreads into your lower back to press you close and the other cups your nape. “You just looked so cute, y’know? My adorable little wifey, wearing my shirt and humming in our living room.”

“Stop talking,” you mutter sulkily, wrapping your arms around his neck and swallowing the tears you feel burning at your eyes as happiness swells in your chest like a mighty wave. He always makes fun of you for crying when he comes home, and you’re already a little miffed.

Your ire dies as you feel him nuzzling behind your ear with his beak, his lungs expanding as he inhales your scent. He’d confessed to you once, a few years into your marriage, that this was his favorite part of coming home; more than the sex, more than the home-cooked meals, more than sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row. He caresses the line of your throat with his beak, stitching your natural perfume back into place in his mind, sinking into you because it’s not the walls around you that he calls home.

“…Missed you,” he murmurs, making you sigh as he brushes lovesick kisses to your shoulder.

“You were gone too long this time,” you tell him, lowering one arm to press a palm to his plastron when you feel his lips seeking more skin, letting him pull the neckline of his shirt away from your clavicle. “Thought you were the breeze, coming in.”

His mouth curves into something filthy at the dip of your throat, his hands finding your hips and giving them a squeeze. “Yeah? Funny. I plan on coming in something, all right.”

You laugh way too hard, a little mortified that after all these years you still find this clown funny at the lamest lines. Worse still is how he watches you do it, his face going stupid with naked fondness like making you laugh is the best thing he’s done all day.

“You are such an unfunny loser, oh my god,” you say, pressing your forehead to his.

“And yet you’re still laughing,” he says, his smile widening when you roll your eyes.

“I’ve been stockholmed,” you tell him, reaching up your hands to cup his beak and pull him into a kiss.

Leo has always been good with his mouth, in every way, all the years you’ve known him. His kisses are no exception; seconds into it you’re purring, the sweet friction of his mouth against yours warming you from the inside, parting on a soft sigh when a hand grips your nape and tilts you just so.

“I wanna fucking eat you alive,” he mumbles against your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth into your lower lip and tugs. You tremble, and you know he feels it as his hands go a little tighter. “Missed you.”

Your fingers find the tails of his mask, tangling in them and using them to pull his face away, just a little. He growls, but you ignore him easily. “Don’t you want to take a shower, baby? Get comfy while I cook you something to eat? You smell like work.”

“I know,” he says, his other hand sliding down to the cloth shorts that are barely visible beneath the hem of his shirt, his fingers gliding up the back to cup the curve of your ass. “And I wanna smell like you, now.”

…He gets like this, sometimes, when he comes home. Touchy. Possessive. You’ve always wondered if it has to do with how he doesn’t smell himself on you when he’s been gone, or if it’s because you start wearing his clothes like he’ll feel it wherever he is. The longer the separation, the worse he gets.

The worse he gets, the better it is.

“Yeah? You wanna smell like me?” you echo as you trail your touch along the red crescents prettying his face, playing into his turtle-brain, feeling your eyelids close as his fingers flutter on your skin. Oh, he wants it bad. “What do I smell like, handsome? I smell good?”

“So fucking good,” he groans, his huge hand releasing your nape to grip your jaw, pulling you into a kiss that’s wet and deep. It feels good, claws a mangled moan from your chest that has him mirroring the sound himself. He pulls his head back, pressing his thumb to the corner of your mouth and sliding it under your lower lip where you feel the slick mess of his kiss. “…Open,” he says, making your lip pucker under his touch.

You obey, watching his pupils dilate as they lock onto your mouth, then your tongue when you let it press against the pad of his thumb where he’s holding you open.

“Shit. You’re so hot,” he says, a wounded rumble that makes your lips curl into a coquettish smile before you wrap them around his thumb, sucking and lathing it with your tongue, pressing your teeth in and closing your eyes when you hear him moan.

“Not gonna smell much like me by staring at my mouth,” you tell him when you let him go, your hooded eyes meeting his as you smile.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he wheezes, and with three steps he’s got you splayed on your couch, the weight of him pinning you to the cushions while his mouth fucking devours you. All you can do is hold on, one hand tangling in his mask tails and the other clutching as his carapace, crushed and absolutely thrilled about it.

When he breaks the kiss to grip his hands in your shorts, pulling them down, you laugh, drawing his hungry gaze even as he doesn’t stop disrobing you.

“What?” he asks, mouth going just a little crooked in a smile of his own as you shake your head, staring at him adoringly.

“Just love you,” you tell him, shifting your legs to help him out a bit and biting down on a grin when you can finally spread them and slink your knees to either side of his hips. You slip one of your arms over your head to grip one of the throw pillows, your other trailing down your throat to entice. “C’mon, pretty boy. Let me see you drop.”

Leo maintains the stare as he straightens his spine, his hands going to his belt buckle to slide it out of place with a metal clink. The button is quick to follow, and when he unzips and slides his pants down just enough for his cloaca to glisten in the afternoon sunlight, you press your fingers to your mouth, tongue instinctively seeking contact.

“God, look at you,” you whine, your thighs rising to cup his hips and squeeze. “I wanna lick you. Come up here?”

He shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into your open mouth and pressing on your tongue. “Later, baby. If you want a show, you’ve got, like, thirty seconds for it.”

Moaning, you soak his fingers with your spit, watching with hazy eyes as he brings them to his cloaca and slides in to the knuckle. He’s always rougher with himself than you are with him, even though he’s told you again and again he prefers it when you’re the one fingering him.

He makes pretty little gasping moans as he fingers himself hard, his arm flexing and drawing your hungry gaze. He’s gotten so god damned big over the years, making you feel small every time he does something that highlights the difference. It feels good, makes you feel kept, protected. So long as Leonardo Hamato draws breath, no harm will ever come to you, a promise he has the strength to keep.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut as the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of himself get wetter. It’s a familiar sound that makes you ache, craving the thick cock you know is about to slide out like it’s air.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Leo,” you babble in praise, knowing he likes to hear it, that you like telling him. “Handsome as fuck. God, I can’t believe you’re mine, that you let me see you like this—”

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing his cloaca to your cunt, his wet fingers gripping at your hips as he rubs your slick against his. “You can’t talk like that, baby, I’m gonna—”

He cuts himself off on a low groan, his hips rolling against yours and his tail pressing hard between your thighs to garner the friction. It feels so good, so fucking good, your skin burning hot with each messy glide of him against you. Your head rolls, fingers gripping in the pillow behind your head and back arching to try and writhe closer.

“Leo,” you keen, breath heaving when he releases his death grip on the back of the couch to plant his hand by your head, his back arching over you and blocking everything else out.

“Don’t come, don’t you dare come,” he hisses, lips curled into a bit of a snarl. “Not until I’m inside, understand?”

Eyes wet, you nod, choking back the shimmer on your skin that builds as he keeps rubbing cruelly. With one particularly good roll of his hip, you snatch a hand to his bicep, trembling. “Stop, stop—!”

He pauses, letting you claw away from the brink to obey. Sucking in a long breath, you open your eyes and see that he’s staring at you like he’s gone mad.

“Okay?” he asks, voice fucked out, and you nod, whining when he resumes rubbing his cloaca against you, your eyes falling shut and head lolling to the side as you start the burning process all over again.

“Feels so good, Leo,” you breathe, skin glowing when you feel him duck in close and glide his tongue up the side of your neck. You’re soaked all over with sweat and slick, every muscle in your body trembling from taut desire that’s just shy of too-much, leaving you delirious and stupid.

With a hitched breath, Leo reaches between you, fingers preparing you for the familiar penetration you want more than anything else. With a hiss, his body goes taut, his cock dropping and sliding inside like his katana into its sheath; like you were made for him, perfectly molded, expertly designed.

“God, fuck,” he wheezes, his forearms framing your face as he leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss that breaks on a low moan. He pumps his hips against yours slowly, shaking with each breath that has him bottoming out where he belongs. “You feel so—I missed you.”

Floating with pleasure, you cup his nape, wrapping your legs around him as best as you can to pull him deeper, needing to feel him in your throat. Your hands find the back of his head, sliding easily on his rough, sweat-slick skin, seeking his kiss and finding it. “Oh, Leo, love you, love you so much.”

He marries his mouth to yours as he fucks in in in, feeling a bit like he never pulls out for how full he leaves you. Every neuron in your body stands at attention, taking note of his weight crushing you, the smell of his salty skin, the taste of his tongue as it curls against your own.

“Look at me, look at me when you come, pretty girl,” he chokes, because he knows your body better than you do and can tell you’re close before you feel it. You open your eyes and meet his, untying his blue mask and letting it slide to your chest right as you feel your orgasm rising.

“Leo, gonna come,” you whimper, watching as he nods, one hand finding your cheek, his thumb tracing under your eyes where they’re wet.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”

Like you do with everything else, you obey and come. It’s a long, wrenching thing, the pleasure washing over you like waves of a mighty ocean as he keeps moving, prolonging it, intensifying it. On and on it goes, your body awash with ecstasy and Leo, always Leo, there to hold you and let you fall.

“Please,” you gasp, clenching at his carapace, begging him to meet you here in the glow. “Leo, please—”

His hand drops down to your throat, fingers ever so slightly curling around as his hips thrust a little harder, the wet sounds of your hips meeting loud in your ears now that you’re listening for it. It’s filthy, his mouth hanging open and eyes going wild as they gaze at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

With a wounded sound he comes, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and hand going a little too-tight on your throat as he fills you over and over again, each hot thread coating and claiming in equal measure. You let one hand grip the back of his wrist where he’s choking you, crushing him in harder as he groans and presses into you even further as he finishes, watching as the edges of your vision go a little hazy before he releases you and lets you suck in a gasp of air.

After a few moments of catching your breath, he picks up his head, his beak wrinkling a bit as he stretches his leg out with a hiss. “Gah, fuck, we’re getting too old for couch fucking. Made a fucking mess.”

“Never too old for couch fucking,” you rasp, causing his eyes to fall to where there’s a mark on your throat in the shape of his hand. He licks his lips, and you feel his cock give an interested twitch. “Oh? You gonna make good on that?”

“Too old for back-to-back marathon fucking,” he pouts, though he does arch his hips once in a good sport try that makes your skin light up a bit. “Gimme like, fifteen. I’ll eat you out while we wait, then we can do something about it.”

You raise an imperious eyebrow. “Fifteen minutes of you eating me out? You? Leonardo Hamato? Only fifteen? I can’t believe an imposter of my husband is here when I was so sure it was him.”

He grins, a boyish thing that makes him look younger and captures your heart all over again. “…Yeah, okay. Let’s be ambitious and say half an hour.”

You settle into the couch, waiting for his cock to retreat back into his cloaca and spending the meantime trailing your fingers along the back of his nape, sighing out in delight.

“…I missed you, too,” you tell him, watching as his face smooths out and every concern flies away like a butterfly startled by the breeze because he loves you so, so much and you know it. Then, realizing you hadn’t said it yet, “…Welcome home, Leo.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, bending down and nuzzling his beak against your temple, inhaling deeply with a smile. “I’m home.”

#tmnt #rise #my fic #ask tag #THERE WERE. SO MANY GOOD OPTIONS. Y'ALL SO DELIVERED OH MY GOD. esp the one w the body shot You Know Who You Are #i'm going to write all of them tbh. but this one. oh my god. i could not resist the siren song of dilf leo.#anyway wow. thanks for helping me try to get leo out of my system. it didn't fucking work!!! but we tried and that's all that matters :)#leonardo/reader #rating: e

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lynx-224 · 1 month

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babes send percabeth prompts u wanna see cuz i have no inspiration 🙏🙏 (send in asks or just reply to post) luv u guys

#like i wanna write #but i have no fresh ideas #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth one shot #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #btw it will probably be blond percy and black annabeth #cuz yeah #ao3 writer #ao3 fic writer #percy jackon and the olympians #lynx talks #lynx tries to write

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inkstaindusk · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Amagi Hiiro/Shiratori Aira Characters: Shiratori Aira (Ensemble Stars!), Amagi Hiiro Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation/Isekai/Transmigration, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Insecurity, Getting Together, Light Angst, kohaku and rinne briefly show up too, enstars was a bl dating sim but everything else is the same Summary:

Kohaku, like a true friend, doesn’t seem too disturbed by the favorability chart in Aira’s notebook, carefully documenting a month’s worth of observations. “And you think all of these people have crushes on Hiiro-han?” he asks in what might be a deliberately neutral tone. Aira decides not to read into it.

“Well… I mean, I just kind of thought they’re all pretty close to him.” He absolutely cannot tell him that everyone on this list were all Hiiro’s love interests in the unreleased sequel to the dating sim this world was in his past life.

#this is NOT sysupd au but it's similar #enstars #hiiai #aira shiratori #hiiro amagi #ensemble stars #i feel like i havent written just a normal one shot in ages i kinda missed it #i wrote this in three days #anya tries to write #my fic #shiratori aira #amagi hiiro #enstars lb #fp.txt

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dawnlitbouquet · 3 months

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✩⛤★ respect your sunbae! ★⛤✩

Yoo Joonghyuk is one of the many players that found themselves isekai'd into the MMORPG Ways of Survival. He's ready to start his journey, cut down Demon Kings and Constellations alike, and find a way back to his little sister in the real world no matter what obstacles lay in his path - but he has to get through the tutorial first.

... Hey, isn't the tutorial NPC a LOT more aggravating than he used to be?

✩⛤★⛤✩

fandom: omniscient reader’s viewpoint

pairing: yoo joonghyuk/kim dokja

rating: t

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

link: [ https://archiveofourown.org/works/53100739/chapters/134352253 ]

✩⛤★⛤✩

#joongdok #omniscient reader’s viewpoint #orv #islea’s writing #fanfiction #i have not been posting fanfic in a hot minute so sharing this as is is like exposure therapy #ish #i must get past the mental hurdle and be comfortable with my mistakes #ergo i will kick this one out into the fray #if you give it a shot i hope you enjoy :’D #and if you don’t that is very fair #i started writing with such gusto only to feel dead inside when i tried to read and reread to see if i got it right #and to be honest i’m pretty sure i did not #but i do need to get comfortable with the fact that my creations will inevitably be flawed regardless of what i would like #so out this goes!#into the void

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moonshine999 · 6 months

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Alexithymia

(n.) the inability to express one’s feelings verbally.

Pairing : Helaena Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen

Summary : After hearing of what happened at Bitterbridge, Helaena pays the unconscious Aegon a visit.

Warnings : Angst, spoilers for future seasons of hotd / fire and blood, not fully canon compliant

The news had been delivered to her rooms by a scroll. No servant of the castle was brave enough to face the now Mad Queen and tell her that another son of hers was gone, ripped apart by a mob. It was said the guards outside her rooms could not bear to hear the sobs and screams so they covered their ears, knowing that there was no way they could help their queen.

The message was given to her as softly as it could have been. If only that would have been enough.

She threw the scroll across her room, burying her head in her knees and fervently shaking her head, refusing to believe it. Maelor was gone. Her baby was ripped apart…no, it couldn’t have been. What kind of monster would send the order for the head of a boy of two.

The sobs came too easily as she realised this wasn’t a dream, this wasn’t a hallucination. Her child was dead.

A scream.

The tears came without cease, her now hoarse throat paining as she let herself fall into the sheets of her bed. Her head hurt, her eyes couldn’t bear to see the light through her blurs of sight, the front of the mess of her hair wet due her weeping.

She named her youngest to die, let her first born die at their hands, was not even able to burn his body, ignored her youngest in her guilt and now she cries for him? What kind of a mother is she..?

She screamed in her anguish, crying out for her long gone child. She felt her throat closing up and her thoughts becoming more and more unsteady. Make it stop. Just make it stop.

The tears slowed. Slowly but surely. She fell against her pillows, her body blazing with fire. Guilt, anger, resentment.

She wiped the tears that she could and glanced towards the scroll, then at the doors of her room. She took her breaths erratically, the door seemed to shake in her unstable eyesight. It was hard to think straight but she recalled the first words on the parchment.

They were addressed to “The King Aegon, Second of his Name, and his Queen, Helaena Targaryen..”

He was his child too.

Does he know? He must. Although how could he, being in the state that he was?

She hadn’t bothered to visit him once. Her skin tingled with the guilt. An irresponsible mother and an undutiful wife…so far removed from what she ever thought herself to be. Would he even care to see her face now? Would he even remember..them? Would he?

The words stung her mind and a tear dropped to her skirt.

Trembling, she lifted herself from the bed, grabbing onto the frame for support. She wouldn’t even trust herself to walk in this condition.

She walked, slowly, grabbing onto any and everything she could as support. She stopped near her mirror and stared at her reflection.

It was…shocking but the gasp did not dare escape. Her own voice was afraid of her.

She looked pale and sickly, her face was red, her under eyes were smudged with darkness. Her cheeks had hollowed and her neck was strained. Her then violet eyes now seemed to be the darkest shadows and her hair was ragged and tangled.

She looked barbaric. This was the Queen? How pathetic..she thought. The Kingdoms don't deserve a sight such as her for their queen. Her children didn’t deserve such an irresponsible woman as their mother. Her husband..the seven..if only he could look at her now. He would be disgusted if he was in his right mind.

Perhaps she was better off dead.

She brushed her hair as much as she could, her hands shook around the base of the brush. She winced ever so often but refused to look anywhere but the mirror. The horrid reflection should serve as a reminder of what she let herself become. A tear or two fell occasionally. But perhaps that was part of habit now.

She picked herself up and walked towards the door, still shaking but no longer needing the support to walk. She picked up the key and unlocked her prison.

The guards shook as they felt the heavy gates opening. One of them looked inside and saw the ruin.

“Your Grace-” he whispered through his expression of wide eyes and furrowed brow. She spoke. Slow, soft but clear enough.

“I..wish to visit the King.” The other spoke next. “Your mother would not desire that you do so, my Queen.”

She glanced towards him. “Well, I desire to.. visit my husband.”

They exchanged a glance and she bit her tongue. She knew her mother and what she understood of her daughter’s state. Defying her mother was the least of her intentions but she knew what she wanted.

“He would most likely be unconscious as of now, Your Grace.”

A small smile appeared on her lips. It wasn’t amusing but perhaps just courtesy. At least not all her habits had disappeared. “I am aware.”

Another look exchanged.

Then one of them gave a small nod, indicating “Follow me”.

So she did. She and the guard walked near side by side through the hallways of the castle.

The maids stared in horror before giving a small bow, the lords and ladies who were roaming the corridors at that moment seemed to be taken aback by the sight and froze.

Her head alternated between two truths - the first was that she looked..not exactly how they remembered their Queen and the second and more prevalent, the Queen was out of her chambers?

She had forgotten how it felt to roam these halls, how she would dance around with Jaehaera, how she and Aegon would chase Maelor around when he stole their wedding rings, how the twins would giggle in the hallways thinking that their mother wouldn’t be able to recognise the sound of their beautiful laughter.

Her eyes threatened to erupt right there but she controlled herself. How she always managed to do so in banquets, tourneys and practically any time she was out of her chambers. Her behaviour there was also due to control. Varying degrees of it but it was the same principle.

They spun around a turn at the top of the stairs and she saw the chambers. Isolated in the dark hallway. She weakly held her hand up in signal for the guard to stop. “I will continue.. by myself.”

The guard looked at her with worried eyes. A pause and he nodded, exiting and taking position outside the hallway.

It wasn’t the wisest of choices. Letting a skilled soldier of the castle leave and continuing by yourself in such a state. What if they don’t allow her to see him? What if he refuses to see her?

She shook her head and reminded herself that he was most likely to be unconscious. It was better that way. She will not have to face his disappointment and he will be in sleep, never knowing his wife paid him a final visit.

She walked the long corridor, slowly. Calming her nerve, ignoring her emotion.

She reached the door and knocked.

The maester had been with him since the morning. Monitoring his health and scribbling some things in a notebook. He could barely feel anything one time and then feel the chronic pain of the burns the next. The Milk of the Poppy helped him get by but it left him less and less a man each day.

He was left on the bed, barely able to think an entire sentence, move a single inch, speak a single word. He felt pathetic. The King rotting away in his bed while his much capable brother runs the kingdom. Gods forbid, he felt like his father. The man he resented with every bone in his body.

If he could laugh at his own misery, he would. The one noble cause he tried to fight for and he ends up like this. I just wanted to avenge my son.

What would his beloved even think of him? She would be disappointed, no doubt. Disgusted even, looking at his body. She never visited him once. That would probably be the cause.

He heard a knock on the door. Guards had been sent to deliver him a message.

The man speaking went on a long drawl and the words barely made it through the fog of his hearing. The only things he managed to hear were–

“nce Maelor-” “Bitterbr-” “ripp… part-” “dead”

The guards stayed a bit longer as he tried to piece the message together.

“-’re sorr…Grac-”

They exited the chamber.

His son was dead.

He wanted to scream his lungs out of breath, fight another battle and rip the blacks apart with his bare hands. The fire wouldn’t leave his fogged head. And yet there he lay. Helpless himself, a pathetic sight for a King.

Had the news reached Hela? It had to have. He wanted to run to her and take her in his arms before she could scream. It would break her. More than Jaehaerys’s passing already had.

His skin tingled before a sharp pain hit him.

It put vanquish to his thoughts as he writhed, the maester immediately rushing to his side to give him another dose of the Poppy. Not again. Please, not again.

Hours had passed. Or so he felt.

He was thinking of his children, how badly he wished to take Maelor into his arms again, take Jaehaera to the gardens again, spin Jaehaerys around till he’s dizzy and giggling again.

He thought of his wife, her slaps when he kissed her in public, her face when he tickled her, her laughs when they ran after their children, her eyes when she held them for the first time, her.

His eyes welled up but a tear wouldn’t dare escape. The maester was still there and..he wasn’t even sure if he was capable.

A knock. And another. It was too light to be a guard, too strong to be mother but it sounded..familiar.

The Maester opened the doors and a gasp escaped him. It was difficult but he caught onto every syllable.

“My Queen?”

Ñuha prūmia? My heart?

“My Queen?” The Maester said with a blink of confusion.

She smiled weakly. “I am here to visit him.”

The maester looked from Queen to King and paused. He too must have heard the news if it had reached these rooms. He looked back at her, gave a small but quick smile “Of course, Your Grace.”

Before she took her first full step in the room, she looked towards the Maester and with a nod, he exited, closing the chambers behind him.

She stayed near the door longer. Trying to catch her breath. Trying to prepare herself for everything. Trying as she always had.

She walked, her steps loud in the echos of the room. “Ñuha jorrāelagon?” My love? It came out barely a whisper, the tears threatening to leave their bounds again.

Her husband lay there. Half body burnt to flesh, not moving, face puffy due to the intake of the Poppy, he could be on the brink of death and no one would know it. At least she wouldn’t.

She lowered herself near his bed. Trying to get a closer look at his face. His eyes..his eyes were open. Half lidded at least. He was conscious? He knows she’s here? He heard her call to him? Her stomach dropped. No.. she didn’t expect this. She wanted to run out of the room and leave him behind. But she held herself. She looked towards his hand..he was wearing his ring. How?

The tears fell. It was too much, seeing him, Maelor, Jaehaerys, herself. She cried as silently as she could let herself. Still acting as though he was asleep. His finger moved toward her.

She took a shaky breath, looked at his face with the tears still falling and smiled weakly. How he managed to remain so beautiful even as he lay there burnt, scars galore. Half fire , half blood.

“Ik-“. He was trying to speak. To her. Even after all the weeks she didn’t visit him. He struggled through his own lips. “Aegon..” She took his hand as gently as she could have. Lacing each finger with his one by one.

“Iksan-“ he kept struggling. “Ñuha prūmia, gaomagon daor.” My heart, do not.

She placed the smallest kiss on his hand, as softly as possible. Treating him as though he was the most fragile thing in the world. As if he could break at any moment.

A tear fell from one of his hooded eyes. It slid down and fell onto his pillow. She wiped her own tears and looked at him.

King and Queen of Westeros. What they had become. The products of war. Broken, ruined, sewn into the hems of history as a tragedy.

“Iksan vao-“ “Aegon.” “Iksan vaoreznuni.”

I am sorry.

#helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #maelor targaryen #house of the dragon #fire and blood #one-shots #angst #it was so tough writing Hel's thoughts of self-hatred just knowing that she didn't deserve any of this #Also I know that how Aegon acts with his burns isn’t accurate at all but it was just the only thing that came to mind #I hope you all like it though #I tried

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enne-uni · 2 months

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someone tell me if I should make this one-shot either have a kiss in the rain or an angsty "almost confessed but stopped themselves last second because this is probably the last thing they need to hear right now", because clearly I'm not qualified to decide (I have been stuck on this for an hour)

wait I can make a poll lmao forgot about those

#no need to but reblogs appreciated #you know what while this is going maybe I could go write the main wip instead of a random one-shot I decided to make #I don't know how to write either but it's about time I tried anyway #(this is wrightworth btw)

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phoenixcatch7 · 10 months

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Lights burn long

Hey guys! I don’t normally do this but I wrote a little one shot to get me back into writing, and since it’s so short I thought I’d share it ^^. Little domestic hateno fluff piece.

The light of the setting sun often struggled to reach the house across the bridge, tucked at the foot of Heartbreak Pond as it was. Candles were lit a half hour early, an hour in winter. Link liked to find the more expensive scented ones, sold in little shops in the towns across Hyrule. They added a pleasant smell to the twining smoke as it filled the house, casting flickering glows on the clay walls, turning them the colour of the sunset the furniture never saw.

Zelda liked lighting them, a soothing task, and she did them that night as Link gathered the dishes from a late meal, the clink of the cutlery in time with the soft snap whumph of wicks.

He piled them in the sink, jiggling the flame blade they used to heat their water until it glimmered a hot amber. Taking a handful of lye shavings from the pot behind the tub, he sprinkled it evenly into the water and stirred it slowly with a cloth, watching as suds began to trail behind his hand.

The creaking of floorboards took Zelda upstairs, lighting the last two on the desk and at their bedside, to extinguish last as they went to sleep once the moon peaked over the mountains.

As the house filled with light, Link pulled out the first plate, running the cloth over it in slow circles. The hot soapy water warmed his fingers, turning them pink.

Zelda returned, hiding a small yawn in her hand. She leant against Link for a brief moment, her hair swaying into his cheek until she rocked back.

“Sleepy?” he asked, tilting his head to see her squeeze her eyes shut. She hummed, soft and long. “See, that's what happens when you stay up late in your research, you're tired the next day. Get an early night tonight.”

In lieu of a response, she leaned into the counter, swatting at him like a idle cat until he stepped aside, keeping his hands in the sink. Throwing open the cupboard underneath with a creak, she patted around until a towel appeared, white and blue dotted and a present from Paige down at the dye shop as an unexpected house-warming gift.

“Let's get this done first,” she said. “I'd love to get to sleep without having to smell old food.”

“You sleep whether I track bokoblin guts into the house,” Link informed her, and got swatted with the towel for his troubles.

“Unlike a certain someone I could mention, I didn't get enough sleep for a century, so I like it when I get to do it without troubles,” Zelda said primly, taking the spoon he handed her and scrubbing it dry.

“That's not at all what you said last night.” This time, the towel was slightly wet, and left his ear faintly damp.

“Well you should know better than to pry me from my research, Link, really.”

“Mhm,” he agreed without sincerity, swirling his rag in the steaming water to fish out any last cutlery, and realising all the forks had sunk to the bottom. For a long moment, the home was filled with the swish of water and the clink of metal as they cleaned. The sharp smell of the lye stirred about their heads and mixed with the beechwood of the candles as the wax started to melt.

Through the windows, the last rays of sunlight started to fade, smothered by the clouds as temperatures began to drop outside. Inside, the flame blade rippled and sparked in its metal shelf, warming the house from within.

Zelda was yawning hard as she dried the last piece, hard enough that she paused her wiping to screw her face up with the size of it, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. Link took it and the towel from her, stepping into her space to put it on the rack.

“Get to bed,” he chided softly. “You had a long day.”

“Yesterday,” Zelda complained, but conceded, surrendering to his gentle chivvying and heading up the stairs. The top of her blonde head moved around over the railing as he finished the nightly preparations, getting undressed and untying her hair for sleep. He heard the gentle woosh of the candle on the desk being blown out, and then the rustle of her kicking her way under the covers.

He gathered the papers strewn over the table, a couple on the floor, shuffled them into a pile for Zelda to exclaim over his ruining her sorting in the morning, folded the blanket and hung it over the armchair back, kicked the leaves that had wandered in towards the door.

He had a few hours until he was tired, still used to being up all hours of the day and night, and so ran a finger over the well worn shelf in the side table they'd filled with books until he found an omnibus of birds and insects, and settled in the chair as he pleased, kicking both legs over one arm and leaning into the crook of the other.

The candles burned long and sweet, the sky outside fading from purple to a rich blue, and as the moon peeked its round head over the spring of wisdom Link found his head beginning to bob on his neck, the owls on the page beginning to flutter their wings and fly from the paper, singing their distant songs in his listening ears.

He closed the book, leaning over to slide it back on the shelf, and slid to his feet with a delicious, languid stretch. Each candle on his slow circuit of the house blew out one by one, the deadbolt on the door slid into place, the flame blade checked to confirm its dimming to a cool grey. Each step on the stairs felt like hiking a snow covered mountain, and he rested his hand on the railing as he climbed up, hiding his own yawns.

Zelda was already long asleep when he reached her, hair a golden halo in the last glowing candle, face lax in dreams.

Link shucked his clothes one by one, pulling on his worn lobster shirt and a pair of shorts. He sat on the edge of the bed as he undid his hair, running his fingers through until it fell loose again, and tied it back in a simple ponytail to keep it out of their mouths during the night.

He climbed into bed beside her, tugging the duvet free and slipping under. With a silent breath, the last candle cast the house across the bridge into deep darkness, and Link was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

#zelda #link #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz #tloz #loz botw #loz totk #fic #one shot #fluff #I was very sleeby and warm writing this and I tried to channel that XD #loz fic #post botw #post totk too? Idk if you want #zelink #i don't consider it zelink but you can if you want #enjoy #domestic fluff

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esosage · 2 months

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It had been a handful of months since stone had managed to pull robotnik out of the death eggs wreck, and finally things were looking up for the two. Stone had managed to secure a deal with a jewel thief to collect the master emerald on his and the doctors behalf, production to construct an army of badniks was under way, he had finally discovered the location of project shadow, and robotnik could walk again, albeit barely.

It was to no one's surprise that falling 500 feet down did a number on robotnik's body, but stone was just glad it was salvageable. Even if he wouldn't be able to move like he used to.

“Do you really need to replace the bandages everyday stone? The wounds have already closed up.”

Robotnik winced as stone wrapped another layer of tight gauze onto him.

“Yes. Your bones are still broken and we need to keep them in place. But if we keep the bandages on for too long, they'll get dirty.”

Stone lied. Not about the bones, but more so about the bandages. In reality he could wait around a few days before he replaced it, but he liked being this close to the other.

A huff sounded out from in front of the agent.

“And then I'll get dirty; I've got it already stone.”

The agent chuckles at the doctor's sour attitude… mentally of course.

“I know….”

A long silence creeped through the room after that. The only audible sound was stone, carefully, wrapping the doctor's bandages.

As always, robotnik was the one to talk first.

“I think I've discovered just what you are over this ‘break’ agent.”

He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the comment.

“And that would be sir?”

“You're a gerontophile, a sycophant with a penchant for silver foxes, or to dumb it down for you, you like your men with a 20 year age gap.”

A snort managed to slip its way out between stone’s normally sealed lips.

“is something about what i said humoring you agent, because i don't believe i've told a joke.” Robotnik snapped; head instinctually swiveling up to face stone.

“How old do you think I am doctor?”

He tried to hide the hint of amusement in his gaze as he watched confusion contort on robotnik's face.

“Somewhere in your early 30’s obviously.”

Stone shook his head, unable to seal the laugh inside his mouth any longer.

“I'm flattered sir, really, but I'm 42.”

The audible gasp robotnik let out was simply beautiful.

“Your in your 40’s?”

Stone nodded, causing the bewildered expression on robotnik's face to quickly turn into a scowl.

“You're lying. There's No way in hell you're 42.”

The agent could help but snicker a bit.

“and how, or why, would I be lying to you doctor?”

“Because, you ignoramus, you simply look too good to be in your 40’s. Nobody that old has such soft features without a wrinkle in sight. It's impossible.”

A bright smile crept its way onto stones cheeks.

“You think I'm good looking?”

In hindsight, Stone should have put more thought into self-preservation, as robotnik was not the only one he had to bandage up after that.

#stobotnik #agent stone #jimbotnik #eggman #fanfic #one shot #just felt like writing smthin and this is what came out.#apologies for any bad grammer #i tried my best.#also stone had a broken nose after this

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pommigranite · 8 months

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remembering

… my hand slipped and i wrote another one shot oops

Leonardo Hamato didn’t know where he was. Obviously, he knew he was somewhere, but he didn’t know where that was. The darkness felt… eerily familiar, though.

“… You,” comes a cold voice, one that shatters Leonardo to the very bone.

“You ruined everything!” The voice screams, its timbre echoing in Leonardo’s soul.

He knows what’s coming. He knows.

“And now,” the voice starts lowly, pausing to chuckle menacingly, “my wrath will be reserved for you alone.”

He feels each and every hit, to his face, his plastron, his carapace. He feels them over and over, as painful and as real as the first time.

“You wretched. Little. PEST!”

Leonardo winces in anticipation, knowing what happens next. The feeling of losing a part of himself, of it being literally ripped away. He knows, he remembers, he regrets…

No. He doesn’t regret. Not this one, not this one thing. For his brothers, his family. The world. He do it again, go through all of it again… and he does, almost every night.

Leonardo opens his eyes, jolting awake and finding himself at the bottom of a turtle pile. His son is there, his brothers are there… even the one that looks suspiciously like Leonardo himself. And all of them are so small, and so strong, and so brave…

And they’re not alone. They have each other, they have the rest of their family too.

He glances at his arm, the one that’s still there, and sees the three old and faded masks braided around it. And he smiles to himself when he remembers his brothers, the ones who are gone but still there, just barely, in the young turtles who lay on top of him now, one of them snoring particularly loud.

And Leonardo is not alone.

#pomscribes #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt future leo #future leo #future leonardo #rise future leo #rottmnt future leonardo #leonardo hamato #one shot #rottmnt movie #GUYS I LITERALLY TRIED TO WRITE A FLUFF FIC AND COULDNT AGAHSAJJAKSNSBSJS

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thisisnotkitty · 6 months

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so i currently have 1.3k of a 5+1 securitywaiter fic and ness is like,, barely being introduced lmao but should i make it chaptered or upload it as a one-shot?

#im very indecisive #and i also need the validation of people enjoying my writing #also its all outlined but i just keep accidentally writing more than i intended to #so if i wait to upload it as a one shot it might be a while #i think also using criticism as i upload will make other chapters better #idk we'll see #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #mike schmidt #ness fnaf #ness the waiter #mike x ness #fnaf #fnaf movie #kitty tries to write; keyword tries #fanfic #ao3 #kitty.twt

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micamicster · 3 months

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I should participate in the grand tumblr tradition and just post random scenes I’ve written for various fics I’ll never finish but alas i am personally not allowed to so instead they live on my computer in scrivener files where they will wither and die

#if I could get the nerve up to post anything #I honestly think it would be good for me and my writing or whatever if I tried to share more of it but #I’m like. allergic to sharing things that aren’t complete #so anything that’s like. a random isolated impulse just stagnates on my laptop #I love reading other people’s random scenes! but I’m different…#I guess I’m having writers block 🙄 not really just can’t seem to write anything that’s a finished product all this year #actually this post is about my sister rereading the Russian doll au randomly the other week #and being like this was super good actually. too bad it will never cohere into the 50k novel it demands to be #instead it’s 15k of Stuff with no way to finish it #what I really need is to learn to write one shots… that would fix me

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bloogers-boogers · 11 months

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Kyle Brofloski/Stan Marsh (Cartman fictional) (SP one-shot)

Hints of KyleBrofloski/ Eric Cartman and a little bit of Stanman~

Summary:

Cartman wrote a style fanfiction as the deranged shipper he is for showing tell.

Slight warning ⚠️ Eh, I really don't have much to warned, after all, this isn't a full on Kyman fanfiction it's just a habit by now whoops 🤷 I'm joking btw, there's nothing too explicit it's just Cartman being the little shit head he is.

~~~~~~~~

Mr Garrison cleared his throat as he gestured Clyde to take his seat again.

"You're next, Eric," he said with boredom as he layyed his eyes back on to the magazine he was reading.

Cartman dashed excitedly to the front giggling like some school gossip girl as he thumbs up towards Kenny who thumbs up back, making both his excluded friends arched a brow confused.

Everyone now focused on him, as he cleared his throat and gave firstly his introduction.

"Ehem, what I have in my hands is a written by yours truly boys love fanfiction," and with that a couple of girls gasped, interest peeking in even Wendy turned his way with a hint of curiosity as the boys just looked his way confused.

"This better not be some creek fanfiction or I'll break your teeth out," Craig blurted out annoyed already.

"Fuck you. This isn't about you Craig!" Mumbling a 'Jesus christ' before continuing.

"It's called: forever be mine."

The girls giggled and sighed already in love with the fic already.

"Oh god," he heard Kyle muster, rolling his eyes incredulous.

"My beta reader was Kenny Mccormick," he gestured Kenny who just waved enthusiastic gesturing him with a rush for he to continue, "it's style by the way girls."

The girls gasped glancing at both targeted boys before turning away, the boys looking confused and unaware, oblivious of what it means.

"Hurry up! The suspense is already killing me!" Bebe eagerly shouted.

"Alright geez, calm your tits," shaking his head incredulous as he flipped to the first page.

"It was morning, the cold weather hitting harder than usual while the sun rises. Stan Marsh; a athletic boy-"

"Hey! Wait that's me? What the fuc-" Stan spoke in disbelief.

But before the raven boy could protest the girls hushed him silent even his girlfriend glared at him for he to keep quiet, which he reluctantly did as he grumbled.

"-heroic, and a total jock. Head his way to the usual bus stop he and his friends had claimed as their own.

A point of town were memories had build up, a place people often resonated with their names in grave in that rusty old sign and sometimes snowy path, the ground somehow printed their steps as‐"

"It is not that deep, you were definitely trying to fill that up weren't you fatass."

'Shhh!' The girls hissed the redhead shut.

"- the boys semblance spread around just that spot.

Stan was a total softy when it came to familiarity; a nostalgic feeling that marked his heart and wasn't easy to die down from.

On the other hand, there was Kyle, Kyle Brofloski; a complete geek, hot tempered, fragile individual and his best friend.

Who he was madly in love with."

"Shut the fuck Cartman! What the fuck!?" Kyle slammed with a fist his table, ignoring the glares from all his girls classmates and Clyde.

"Mr Garrison, Kahal's interrupting me again!" Cartman protested already tired of being rudely interrupted.

"Kyle, please sit your ass down and let Eric finish his gay little fantasy book. You'll have your turn eventually."

Kyle gritted his teeth in boiling anger, reluctantly sitting down as he glared deadly at the brunette evil little douche who snickered his way before continuing were he had left off.

"It was before summer of that year when he realized he had caught feelings for his super best friend.

More like he realized quite late that these hidden feelings were already there, way before he could even grasp the idea of ever liking his friend in such way, repressing them since childhood.

Always being left confused and a fuzzy feeling in his stomach with every touch or brush Kyle did his way, it was inevitable to always feel nauseous around him, sweat pouring out from his hands as he was constantly nervous around him, worried to make himself look like a fool or a moron infront of him even while being one.

A complete wreck when he was around other dudes, jealousy arising as he looked at Kyle whose attention searched elsewhere that wasn't him."

"Wow, Eric's really a good writer," Butters whispered to Kenny, who nodded.

"Yeah, since his last creek fanfiction his writing has gotten so much better," the other blond complimented.

"However, his insecurities got the best of him, preventing him from making any moves or confessing his ongoing long lasting love for Kyle.

Kyle was perfect‐"

Kyle's frown lighten as he heard Cartman narrate his character, isolating the context of it all, only hearing his voice and the description of his fictional self.

"- in every aspect of his being. The type of perfect you'd be worried of feeling for another, so much unasked powered he held on to his weak beating heart.

His wild red curls rebelling to let loose under that worned out; washed green, unique and very familiar ushanka. A very important piece of fabric for his characterization. Everything on him was just like it's supposed to be.

Like it was meant to.

Those cold blue looking eyes that could glare holes on to you, digging through each layer of your skin reaching your guts and on to your soul. So far captivating it's hard to let loose around them, it was like being sucked in a hole.

A complete void with no end, a void he was willing to dive in with all intentions of ever going out."

"Wow," Clyde mustered softly, so deeply focused in the story as a couple of girl were left in awe and blushing faces.

"However, that wasn't the only thing that drawn him in a complete depths of focus, his lips for example being one of the countless features that left him breathless."

"Cartman this is the most gayest shit I've ever seen and heard from you in like the entirety sixteen years of our lives," Stan commented tirelessly as he placed his hand on his forehead trying his best to ease his annoyance.

Kyle was long gone indulged by Cartman's way of story telling and captivating writing. He must admit, Cartman was good. He was already hooked even being just the introduction of the 'characters'.

"Those pink candy looking lips drove him delirious, even if they we're dried up most of the time having small cuts on them, he should definitely use some chapstick, but hey? He's in love and doesn't care for his poor lack of care.

And somehow, it's still felt in character of him.

Just so in character as when he speaks against anyone who goes against his morals; normally Cartman his so called archrival, but that's far from the point.

He was fearless when it came to what was right, hot headed when he was stubborn and being proven wrong countless times.

There was so much of him he can't hold, so much depth in his person he's fallen to know he can't get tired of. Layers and layers to unfold and discovering so many new things of him that just adds to the piles of things he likes about him.

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle..

That cute smile leaves him drowsy, in a memorizing trance that makes him want to see that upward frown rise infinite times on a daily, he wished he could keep it like that forever even if he gets tired, sore and all cramped up for it.

Needless to say, I'm in love with Kyle Brofloski."

Kyle's heart skipped a beat and his heart begin beating loudly, feeling a small rush of heat in his cheeks.

Looking at Cartman so very focused on his reading, his expression seemed so calm and his eyelids were half opened in a dreamy manner.

"Now, speaking of such boy..

Kyle woke up that morning, late than usual and looking with panic at his clock. Forgetting to have set his alarm before six, he cursed himself internally rushing himself to the bathroom and doing whatever teens his age would do before school.

As he finished getting ready, he grabbed his backpack sprinting down stairs not even bothering to eat breakfast as he was found late. He said goodbye to his mother from the door before slamming it shut and heading straight to the bus stop.

As he arrived he visualized his three friends already standing and waiting with a bored tiring expression for the bus to pick them up.

He halted before walking slowly, keeping his cool as his eyes darted on to Stan; his best friend, trustful and loyal mate, his long-time crush.

His messy raven hair almost covering half his face, those eyes that adorned under with a black discolored shade by the countless sleepless nights binge playing online gaming with them, lacking energy as usual.

Sometimes he thought his friend was a mess, but a mess he could fix. Stan had many flaws, flaws that were understandable and fixable for the eye, but there was too many layers in his character.

There's was so much of Stan, a chronic pain and immense sadness in that brain an force smile of his-"

Stan eyes peeked instantly from under his arms as his ears now listened attentively.

"- aching for help, for someone to hold him and understand what he goes through.

Sometimes he wished he was that person, but he lacked skill in that department; being emotionally vulnerable and unable to really resonate with those feelings, how he felt in regard of it all.

However, he could make him feel like he wasn't alone, he was good for making distractions. Atleast he could ease his mind with other things than focusing on the negative right?

Still, Stan was all he needed to make him happy. A full of flaws individual who he was madly in love with. His imperfections made him stand out and yet, still so damn well fitting to be place in his heart.

The name of Stan Marsh was carved around everywhere in that blood pumping organ called: heart, and echoed in his brain endlessly.

Stan Marsh..

With those captivating blue eyes and that playful smile, with the cutest eye wrinkles he's ever seen.

And those crooked teeth with glimmering metallic braces surrounding them and a hint of blue as a personalized choice of his.

Oh how he wished to steal a kiss from him... unintentionally crashing his teeth with his braces and somehow laughing it off as goofy and affectionate.

Two dumbasses in love..

Oh so he wish they were..

He sighed, placing in his spot in between both his best friend and archrival, next and lastly was Kenny their chill so caring friend and important piece of their friendship; the one who hold on to the group as if it we're to be cherish and protected.

Even if their broship was a little messy and stumble with all intention to fall apart, it was still glued surprisingly strong.

Honestly surprised it has lasted this long.

He frowned already listening to Cartman's annoying nagging; something about Taylor Swift and some twitch streamer, he truly didn't care about.

Stan on the other hand, was fighting the urge to shake that twitching feeling in his hands. His protective and defensive instinct perking up as he saw Cartman taunting Kyle in their usual banter.

It was so ordinary for them, but that day, it just.. felt unnecessary.

He disliked seeing Kyle be belittle or being called names. And even if it were their bigoted dick of a friend with Kyle being so unfazed by the common ignorant comments and bashing, he couldn't help but feel bitter and angry at him; wanting to punch his face and tell him off as an ass, forbidding him by ever calling Kyle by any other name that isn't 'Kyle', telling him he isn't even allowed near his best friend.

But ofcourse he couldn't, there was always something preventing him from doing so, a barrier in between the space of him and Kyle."

Cartman continued reading the plot, it was the typical cliché drama/romance you'd see on anime, still, there were quite unexpected moments/sceneries here and there.

"Stan slammed him inside the janitor's room, closing the door shut. Their breathing hitting against each other as two panting animals, the room suffocating, ambient being warm and cozy.

Stan crashed their lips together in a desperate attempt to keep him shut.

"Shh, she won't find out," he hushed Kyle reassuring, as the other hissed by the stingy pain that was left in his gums being pushed the braces against them.

Kyle wrapped his arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further.

Stan's hand were all over him, gripping his ass oh so slightly before pressing his crotch against Kyle's.

Kyle tugged his hair furiously unzipping his jacket trying to get a touch of Stan's bare skin.

But the door swung open and a silhouette covered them in a shadow.

It was Kenny; who looked at them in surprise as his was left speechless by the display of his two best friends flustered face full of embarrassment and somewhat shame for being caught in a intimate and secretive act.

Oh shit."

"And that waaaaas chapters 1 to 5, if you guys want any more updates you guys can always follow my wattpad account which is @ cArtmanbrah67!" He teased, now heading back to sit down, grinning with pride as he felt the deeply 'what happened next' stares on him.

Archieving his goal of pissing all his classmates off and still somehow get praise for it.

All unpleased for no concrete ending.

"W-what? What happened next? Did Kenny end up cheering them on or-" Clyde mustered disbelief.

"Fuck that, did Wendy ever found out that Stan was cheating on her!?" Red exclaimed in utterly shock.

"No, no, no dudes. What about that shit between Tolkien and Tweek what're those two hiding?" Craig chimed in just as offended.

"Oh please, Craig. It's obvious they're planning a surprise birthday party for you at Tolkiens," Bebe groaned annoyed, still sour she couldn't predict the ending.

"You guys are gonna give me writers block," Cartman grunted massaging the sides of his forehead before resting his head in his arms with boredom.

<<<< —————>>>>

The next day, it was Kyle's turn to present his own showing tell.

"For my showing tell project I've written-" he smirked smugly and glaringly at Cartman who arched his brow already knowing what he had planned next, "is a fanfiction of Butter x Cartman, I call it: an ass away."

Girls gasped enthusiastic as Stan snickered mischievous.

"My beta reader was Stan Marsh."

Cartman face reddened in embarrassment and anger, cussing out profanities at them.

#south park #eric cartman #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #sp one-shot #sp style #-ish?? sorta #kyman #-ish??#slight cartters/stanman #don't hate me for this but i really wanted an excuse for Cartman fanfic writer #Kenny thinks it's hilarious but at the same time he actually likes helping Cartman out with the fics #the fact i can't write a proper style fic without adding hints of kyman says alot on how shippers ruined this ship for me #i tried tho🤏🏼#sorry it's short #i couldn't think of anything else to add

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