Prompt – Cornfield Characters – Stan/Cartman Word Count – 502 For - @cyanwings thanks for the awesome suggestion! I love these two a lot and don’t write for them nearly often enough!
Notes – I really loved this one and am probably going to continue writing for it!
“Are you seriously that freaked out?” Stan can’t quite keep the laughter from his voice. It’s too dark for anyone to see the way that he’s smiling, though, which is probably for the best because Cartman gives one of those patented huffs of his. “No!” Even though the shadows hide the sneer, it’s clear in Cartman’s voice. He pulls away from Stan’s side, releasing the grip that he’d had on Stan’s hand. “This is fucking stupid. No one would be scared of these lame ass gags.” Something howls. In the distance, feet slam down on dried corn husks. The sound makes Cartman jump, boot clad feet skidding over the worn dirt path. “You look pretty scared,” teases Stan. The full moon highlights the vague shape of a scarecrow a few feet away. “Dude, all this stuff is really obviously fake.” “No shit.” “So, you’re good?” “Of course I’m good! Christ, Stan. Quit bitching at me about – “ Cartman’s teeth snap together. The scarecrow is suddenly gone from its post, lurching at them out from the thick copse of corn. Something close to a squeal leaves Cartman instead of the rest of his sentence, and he tries to scramble away from the scarecrow so quickly that his feet slide out from under him. He hits the ground back first and the actor curls over him, never once breaking character. The faint glow of the stars highlights the peeling strips of make-up, the rotten skin peeking out from between worn work glove and long-sleeved flannel shirt. The scarecrow juts his face it, pushing it close to Cartman’s. Cartman tries to scoot out from under him and Stan laughs because the whole thing is hysterical – but he also reaches out, taps the actor on the shoulder. “Okay,” says Stan, between snorts. “That’s enough, man. You got him.” Standing up, the scarecrow turns around and tilts his head at Stan. Then he rushes back into the corn field and vanishes. There’s a new scarecrow on the post in the distance. “Fuck that,” wheezes Cartman. “And fuck you, asshole! Quit laughing at me!” “I’m not,” lies Stan. He helps Cartman back up, throws an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. “I am totally not laughing at you right now, man. Totally.” “Fuck you,” snorts Cartman. He’s scowling, showing off a mouth filled with slightly crooked teeth. Cartman hooks an arm around Stan’s forearm, tangles their fingers together again. The grip is tight enough that it almost hurts. It hits Stan, later than it should have, that Cartman is actually scared. There’s a few inches of height difference between them. Stan has to tilt his head up, just a little, to kiss Cartman’s temple. “Dude, it’s fine. We can cut back out if you want.”
A/N: Was writing a bestfriend! Michael thing and this came out, but it didn’t fit the way I wanted. So I just decided to post this excerpt as its own individual blurb. Sorry I know nothing about palm reading.
AU: bestfriend! michael
“Let me see your hand.” Michael flashes his cheeky smile,
holding his hand out to receive yours.
“No.” You tuck your hands into the pocket of your sweats.
“Last time you asked me that, you told me to pull your finger.”
“Don’t act like you’re too good for the old pull my finger
gag.” He scoots closer to you, making grabby motions at your hidden hands. “Come
on, I promise I’m not going to anything stupid.”
“Usually when someone says that, they actually do something
stupid. I don’t trust you.”
“Don’t be such a baby, Y/N,” he whines. “Just let me see
Michael reaches for your arms and you instantly dig your
hands deeper into your pockets. Your resistance spurs him to fight you, trying
to break your hands free. Limbs tangle with limbs as you two fumble around and nearly
roll right off the couch. He laughs when you accidentally bump into his stomach and hit his ticklish spot, distracting him for a split second, but he
manages to get a good grip on your arms. In the past, one defense mechanism
that worked for you was to curl into a ball, but it unfortunately doesn’t work
this time. Even though you have the
potential to overpower Michael, he is fueled by determined to get his way. With his
warm hands on you, his body weight squishing you into the leather cushions, and his
face mere inches from yours—you don’t stand a chance. He is your weakness.
“On tour, we had some time to kill,” Michael says, “so
Ashton dragged us all to go see this palm reader who taught us a few things. I
want to try reading yours.”
“You could have just said so earlier instead of wrestling
me, asswipe” you joke.
Giving into defeat, you surrender your hands into Michael’s.
He grins wide, proud of himself for getting you to cave. Then he turns your
hands palm-side up and slowly traces his finger over the lines to study them with
care. His touch is so feathery light that it has you floating on cloud nine.
“See this line right here?” he points out. “It means you
fall in love easily. But this other line means you’re also very cautious about
You swallow, looking up at your best friend who can read you
better than anyone. Meeting Michael was a random chance, both your names
appearing on the same first grade roster. Becoming his friend was a matter of inescapable fate. Michael’s face popped up everywhere until you finally decided
to accept his invitation to play Power Rangers with him, and you discovered he
was cooler than his cheese-dust stained clothes let on. But falling in love
with him, that had been entirely too easy- so easy that you didn’t realize
it until it was too late. Of course, Michael would never find out. Your best
friend knows everything about you—except your feelings. He is totally
oblivious, but telling him isn’t worth the risk. Every time it got close to
slipping out, you averted the subject.
“You sure you read that right? That sounds nothing like me,”
you say. “I think you need more practice.”
“Like you could do any better.” Michael rolls his eyes,
shoving your hands back at you.
“I bet I could.”
You take Michael’s hand and flip it over. You don’t know
shit about palm reading, but you don’t have to. Michael is the one thing you’re
an expert on. His future is something you’ve mapped out for ages because you’ve
daydreamed about it every moment you had. A flame of hope burned within you, that you
might be a part of his future, and that you’ll get to give him the future he
deserves. In lieu of any real future prediction or palm reading, all you can
tell Michael is your wishful thinking.
“This line means that, for better or for worse, you freely
express emotions and feelings.” You trace over his palm gently, silently loving
the excuse to hold his hand. “So find a lover who can handle it, who will
appreciate that about you, and who will love you back just as deeply.”
The sweat is getting sticky between your hands but you like
it. You like the sweat, you like the weight of his hand, and you like how soft
he feels. Michael watches as your hands linger together longer than necessary,
and you grow quiet as a button. Snapping out of it, you let go of his hand, but
pulling them apart is as difficult as pulling apart magnets and as painful as
pulling off a Band-Aid.
You break the tension by forcing a smile and pulling your own finger to mock his lame gag.
Can we just talk about this lovely relationship that is YOONSEOK.
We have Min Yoongi AKA SUGA “i don’t give a shit, I dont give a fuck” who is so damn soft for Hoseok it’s not even funny. Okae so yes, Yoongi is far from an apathetic or uncaring person (he’s secretly a cheeseball) but he is straight forward, maybe even rather brash sometimes. Yoongi is a softie for his dongsaengs, and it’s really pretty obvious.
I could seriously go on a rant about Yoongi really, but let’s bring it back to the main point.