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suddenlybambi · 1 year

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as long as you stay here [10] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.2k

chapter 10

previous | next | alaysh masterlist

a/n - we are officially in double digit territory 👁️👄👁️

Kyle didn’t usually eat in his room if he could help it. His mom had always taught him it was unhygienic. But he wanted to talk to Y/N about the night before, and he didn’t want to risk Stan and Wendy interrupting them.

Y/N seemed to consider the bed for a second, but once she realised that Kyle had already made it, she settled on the floor with her legs crossed and plate balanced on one knee. He joined her, sitting opposite in the same position.

“I’m surprised you’re not…” He struggled to find the words without them coming across as rude.

“Hungover and crying on the bathroom floor with the lights turned off?” She smiled, showing she knew exactly what he meant and wasn’t upset by the implications. “Did I really drink that much? I don’t remember much past getting to the party. Clyde had already given me two shots before we left and then another when I got there… I think I remember having a few cups of whatever they had dumped in that fishbowl….”

“Yeah… You were pretty out of it,” He laughed nervously, looking away. He was wary when he realised how much she had actually been drinking and was worried that she probably should be hungover. Unless… “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“No, I am stone-cold sober,” She confirmed, twirling a piece of pancake on her fork before she ate it. “I don’t get hungover, no matter how much I drink and for how long I do it for. Most I get is a headache, but that is fixed with some water and a Tylenol- thank you for that, by the way.”

“No worries, I know you would have done the same for me,” He shrugged.

“I also assume you took me home, so thank you again for that,” She smiled, tilting her head a little in thought. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain for you.”

“You could never be a pain for me,” The words came to him so naturally that he didn’t have to think about them for a second. “So, no hangovers? That’s-”

“Dangerous?” She finished, and he nodded a little hesitantly. “I don’t drink much anymore because of that. I went through a phase in high school, made a lot of stupid decisions with stupider people for the stupidest reasons, all because I could just wake up the next morning with no memory of it and still get my ass dragged to ballet classes at 6am and practice my pirouettes until my toes bled.”

“I always wondered if the rumour was true that those weird ballerina shoes break your toes?”

“Painfully true! Let’s just say I could never pick up some extra cash by selling feet pics because even the absolute degenerates would be turned off,” Y/N laughed at the mildly horrified look on Kyle’s face. “It also breaks the bank. New shoes every couple of months really add up over the years. But at least breaking them in is great anger management control! I personally preferred the method of slamming them against a wall repeatedly. I knew a girl who would run hers over with a car to break them in.”

“Ballet seems really peaceful and delicate from the outside… I had no idea that it was so brutal.”

“Like your mom-” She froze, realising she had let the impulsive thoughts win. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for that to actually leave my mouth.”

“Don’t worry about it. Cartman once wrote an entire song about my mom being a big, fat bitch,” Kyle shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by Y/N’s joke. “It’s pretty hard to beat that.”

“I think I remember Cartman getting pissed at me last night?” She tried to retrieve the memory, but it evaded her. “But I’m not sure why?”

“Ah… That would be because you stood up for me when he insulted my costume,” Kyle recalled the moment easily. He was touched that she stood up for him but concerned that it was to Cartman, who was unpredictable. “You asked if he was a furry, and he did not like that one bit.”

“It wasn’t an insult! I know some furries, and they’re nice and cool people for the most part!” Y/N sighed, finishing up the last of her pancakes. “I don’t remember spending much time with you…”

“You and Clyde hung out most of the night,” He told her, still halfway through his pancakes. He slipped one onto her plate for her to eat, and she happily accepted it. “I think he’s the reason you drank so much.”

“I hope he’s suffering today,” She mumbled, trying to remember what she could of the night. She thought she could recall actually having fun with her flatmate, which was odd. “Do you know where my phone is?”

“Crap, I didn’t see it…” Kyle looked around in a panic, worried it had been left behind at the party. “When did you last have it?”

“I think I left it in your car?” Y/N informed him after a moment of thought. “I’m pretty sure I had it then.” His panic eased a little at that. Hopefully, she was right.

“I’ll go check,” He grabbed her now empty plate to drop it off in the kitchen as he left to find the missing device. After a minute of panicked searching, he found that it had slid under the seat and retrieved it. The screen lit up to show a lock screen that warmed his heart, one of him and Y/N that she had insisted on taking when they had taken the scenic route from the cafe to the library. He was honoured to have made it to lock screen status and made a note to change his own from the generic scenery he’d had since getting the phone to one of the two of them.

A notification caught his eye after the lock screen. He couldn’t see what the text message said, but he could see the name of the sender.

‘Mother’

Kyle remembered what Y/N had told him about her mom cutting contact with her because she didn’t pursue dance. He wasn’t sure how she would react to getting a text from her and how it would affect her mood. He had to push away the selfish want to say he hadn’t found the phone so she wouldn’t see the message in hopes he could spend more time with her in a good mood.

When he returned to the apartment, he found that she was doing the dishes. Instinctively, he placed the phone on the table and grabbed a tea towel to start drying and putting things away.

“Did you find it?” Y/N asked, looking over her shoulder at him with a sweet smile. He really hoped that whatever the text said didn’t ruin it.

“Yeah, it's on the table for you,” He nodded over at it while drying a plate. “Want me to finish this?”

“It’s fine! I’m almost done anyway!” She shook her head, looking back down at the sink as she finished the last of the dishes. Once done, she picked up her phone from the table and checked it. Kyle tried not to make it obvious that he was watching her, but he couldn’t help himself.

He watched as her smile dropped within a split second, only to turn into a scowl as she actually read the text. She didn’t appear to send anything back, just turned it off and put on a fresh smile for Kyle as she looked back up.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow, please?” She asked, holding her phone up. “I’m on 12%.”

“Yeah, it’s in my room,” He put away the frying pan he had been drying and led her back to his room. He wanted to ask what the text said, ask if she was okay, give her a hug, or do anything that could possibly cheer her up. But it wasn’t his business. She would tell him if she wanted him to know, but she deserved privacy. “Over here.”

“Thank you, sweetpea,” The pet name made his heart race as she took the end of the cable from his hand and plugged her phone in to charge. There was a moment of silence while she plugged it in and set it down. “My mother texted me.”

“Oh?” He didn’t know if he was supposed to act surprised. His mind was running in fifty different directions at once. “Are you okay?”

“I’m here with you, and not with her,” The words were simple but held so much meaning. Kyle’s feet moved without him thinking as he took her in his arms, holding her to his chest in a hug she eagerly returned.

“I’m here for you if you want to talk about it,” He told her. One of his hands lifted up to stroke her hair, still a little messy from the night before. “I’m also here if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t…” He could feel that she was shaking slightly, the slightest crack in her voice betraying that she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know if I can go to yours for Thanksgiving…”

“What do you mean?” He asked as she pulled away to get her phone. They sat down on the side of his bed together as she unlocked her phone, opening the message and passing it to him to read for himself as she didn’t trust her voice to hold out.

Mother : moving house sunday after thanksgiving. anything u don’t collect will be dumped

That was all the message said, but it didn’t have to say anything else for him to know what it meant. Y/N would have to go back to her mom’s house if she wanted to salvage any of her belongings that remained there. The callousness made his blood boil.

“She said Sunday after Thanksgiving,” He pointed out, passing the phone back to her so she could put it back on charge. “We could still spend Thanksgiving at my house, then go to yours on Friday, so we have then and Saturday to get your things.”

“You’d come with me?” She sounded slightly surprised but grateful. “I don’t want to take time away that you could be spending with your family.”

“If it helps…” He leaned in to whisper to her as though they weren’t the only two in the room. “I don’t want to spend the whole week with my family anyway. A few days is more than enough, trust me.” This made Y/N laugh, which Kyle considered a win. Tears were still brimming in her eyes, but there were paired with a smile again. “Plus, who would drive you around if I wasn’t there?”

It had taken a bribe of no chores for two weeks after the holidays, but Kyle had managed to convince Stan and Wendy to take two cars back home so he could be alone with Y/N. It wasn’t a long drive, only an hour and a half, but he valued any time he got with her.

“You mean you actually kicked your brother?” Y/N asked, her eyes wide with shock. “Like, just fully went for it and booted him across the street?”

“I was 8!” Kyle protested through laughter. “Are you saying you and your brother never did anything like that?”

“There was too much of an age gap between us for him to get away with that shit,” She shrugged, opening up the glove compartment, which she had slowly taken over more and more each time he drove her somewhere. “Then again, he was 13 when I was born. By the time I was old enough to be a conscious human being, he was at the end of high school and barely home.”

“Did you get along with him?” He asked, reaching over to grab a mint from the pack she had produced from the glove compartment as she offered it to him.

“Oh, I followed him around like a little lost puppy whenever he was home,” She smiled at the memory. “I wanted to do whatever he was doing and go wherever he was going. He would carry me around on his shoulders whenever we were out and about. People thought he was my dad, and I guess he was the closest I ever had to one.”

“How old were you when your dad… you know…?” Kyle regretted the question as soon as the words left his lips.

“Died?” She finished for him, far more nonchalantly than he expected her to be about it. “Before I was born. Mom never talked about him. I only know what little I do know about him because my brother would slip me bits and pieces of information. I think it was a car crash or something that killed him.”

“That’s rough. I’m sorry,” He didn’t really know how to react, particularly since she didn’t seem that bothered. He figured it was hard to mourn someone who you never knew and no one would tell you about.

“Look! There’s a deer!” Y/N excitedly pointed out of the window as they passed the animal. “Kyle! I saw a deer!”

“You’ll get used to that!” Kyle laughed at how excited she had gotten over something he had considered normal and taken for granted all his years in South Park. “We’re almost there. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

a/n - the comments you guys write really spur me on when writing, thank you so much 🥰

let me know if you would like to be on the taglist for this fic

current taglist - @n0tangeliccc @solana-central @charqing-qing @eiizabeth-torres @hand-writxen @audiliah @cosmicbroenies @himoutolikesjojo @katnipkoffee @desertofdessert @inkedintothepaper @ky-uwu @marwvy @baubub

#kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski fic #alaysh suddenlybambi #as long as you stay here #alaysh #south park fanfiction #south park fic #south park kyle #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #sp kyle x reader #sp kyle

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bloogers-boogers · 8 months

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Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman

"Cartman, your girlfriend's a freak!"

Part 1 >

Summary:

Kyle discovers Cartman's new partner is into feedism and he has all reason to get involved.

Eventually:

"why can't you listen?! Why don't you care?! Why is it always me who has to fix your problems!"

"No one is asking you to fix me, Kahl!"

"You are! You are by acting dismissive over it when you DO care!"

"I don't! She's all I have! She's the best thing I could ever get."

"What about me?!!"

Warning ⚠️: this is a sp fic you could either expect the worse or the best! So beware if you proceed to read the following content 🙏

Author’s note: the narration of the story would be mimicking the way Cartman was storytelling in that one Christmas creatures story he wrote. So if you guys wonder why it’s kinda wacky that’s why! C:

------———————

It was a Monday morning, the sun rising and the light blooming each corner of the trees, streets and buildings. As four boys walked pass the streets heading straight to school. It would've been a normal day if they had met in the bus stop as usual however Randy took Stan that same night for a weed business trip in middle of a sleepover so they also had tagged along. Free employees! for Randy so he said.

What a annoying night for the teens, but not much to complain besides groan and act bitter to their raven friend instead. Regretting not just taking their usual hangout spot which was always at Cartman's place.

"Main bitch out your league too, ah

Side bitch out of your league too, ah~" the brunette sang out shamelessly, a slight smile while moving his hands with the mumbling beat of his own voice.

"Can you stop singing, fatass? I have a fucking headache from last night." Complained the only redhead of the group.

Ever wonder why they all have conveniently diffrent hair colors to difference each other and yet, matched color palettes for clothing that go well with one another? Nah, who thinks about that. They look good together, so the group remains the same! Just switch the coats for hoodies and the pants for jeans. If you want extra, the raven boy has updated for no hat and the ginger for a pair of sneakers instead of boots.

Heights from the tallest to smallest, redhead to raven, blonde and lastly brunette. For the misfortune of the last one ofcourse.

Constant teasing and for what? For a couple of inches extra? Nope. Because he's an ass. That's the reason, and because it's funny.

"For your information I don't care," replied, Cartman as he continued to sway his body from side to side.

Aka shortest, drastically fattest, "you think life is hard? I'm wearing size 13 Nikes", only motherfucker that could kill and would; just for funsies. A loser. But a dangerous one, THE Eric Theodore Cartman a fatherless boy with a crack whore of a mom, "I'm tying to put you in the worst mood, ah-!" he hummed out loud, even louder then before to annoy his friends.

With a long and dragged groan, "way to go, Kyle. You made it worse," Stan complained as he pinched his nose in frustration.

Aka the second tallest, Mr. "I'm part of the football team but never the captain", average weight, depressed homie who would get bailed on the moment he stops acting chill about it. Deadbeat singer. A lover boy and hippie. Stoner without the weed. The "leader" of his gang of friends, Stan (Stanley) Marsh.

"What did I do?!" Kyle exclaimed offended but not really. Too tired to care or actually make a big deal about it.

Aka tallest, average weight with a little tone of muscle in his arms, jewish (apparently important enough to mention for the fat one), "temper bitch with no chicks", looks like a nerd is actually a high graded student but would bail school for his friends. Would beat your ass if you cross his ground or brake his ego. Seriously. He would. Ask Cartman. Wait, don't, he'll lie about it. Anyways, this is Kyle Broflovski.

"Mhmp! Mhmp mhmp," muffled Kenny under his hoodie.

Aka third tallest atleast he's not the shortest!, slightly underweight, "what's that miles away? A arrow? Lighting? Bullet? Nope, it's Michael Myers about to hunt him down", hard worker but slacks from time to time, a stoner with very high grades but no effort. Wise for his age but cries at nights. Fatalities over 100! Kenny (Kenneth) McCormick.

"Nuh-Uh!," Cartman denied with a skeptical frown, "that's not possible poor boy," a slight pause before leaning his head closer to his other friends, "...right?"

Stan and Kyle just shrugged not caring much.

Cartman remained silent as a car swoop there blonde friend off the ground and dragged him to the nearest gasoline station where it comically explodes as he landed just inches apart from the actual gas.

Well there goes Kenny for the day.

They continued their pace as they finally arrived school. Doing their usual thing as changing their books and closing their lockers before entering class.

First period went smoothly while second period in comparison had multiple shootings heard from the hallways, the teens remained unfazed while they were lectured about historical facts they genuinely didn't care about, some listened, some acted like they did and others just slept through class.

Ofcourse Cartman was one of those who slept in. He felt a couple of pokes on his side. He frowned annoyed while swaying his hand in the air for whoever is pestering him to stop. He didn't bother to look up.

"Fatass stop slacking in class," Kyle hissed in a whisper.

Cartman smiled devilish as he recognized that well familiar voice.

"Meh meh meh meh," he mocked still eyes shut and had no plans on moving from his comfortable position.

As expected, Kyle punched him hard on the arm.

"OWE!" Cartman whined out loud, rubbing his arm that was now aching in pain.

"Mr. Cartman care to explain why you interrupted my class?," The teacher scold. Now attention all on him.

"It was Kahl!" Cartman cried out loud while glaring at his redheaded friend.

"I would never," Kyle commented sarcastically as he rolled his eyes looking at the ceiling innocently.

They all knew who the teacher favored.

Something they all first noticed in their first year of highschool. Was how their history teacher put her immediate attention on Broflovski. At first, Kyle denied it but then he got curious and intentionally wrote wrong all his answers and yet STILL A's a exam. He was shocked but actually felt proud that he can pull a whole grown woman to pine for him with out even trying. Creepy, but cool because he can get away with a lot of shit in her class.

"Eric, I beg you to keep quiet while I lecture, do you understand?"

Cartman roll his eyes knowing Kyle's so call "charm" on their teacher. So there was no point on manipulating the situation to his favor.

"Yes, Ms. Thrust ontitts," he replied bashing his eyelashes innocently.

"Very well, let's continue."

He grips his hand on to the side of his chair, and jumps closer to Kyle's side as he moves, "way to use your jew scooties on crib jumper."

Kyle rolled his eyes, still, he leans his head closer to Cartman's, "better than not having anyone pay attention to you, lardass."

Cartman scoffed but arched a brow as he tried thinking of a better combat. He smiled before saying the first thing that came in mind, "rather have no one than someone that's nearly applying for a elderly home."

"Atleast she's pension."

"Atleast I won't be wiping ass."

"Atleast I'm touching ass."

"Atleast changing diapers won't be a routine."

Kyle gripped his fingers on to his desk, biting his lip trying to come up with something else but failed.

"Fuck you."

"Just try," Cartman teased as he stuck his tongue out childishly. Moving back to his place triumphantly.

Kyle cheeks heated by just his stupidity, then because the image actually popped up inside his head.

"Agh. Gross," Kyle let out as he shaked his head trying to get the image out of his brain.

Embarrassingly turned on by it too.

Cartman snickered, side eyeing his friend. Pleased by the reaction. Oblivious of the other's repressed thoughts.

During lunch period Kyle remained defeated as he slumped his head on to the table. Frustrated that he couldn't get the image of Cartman on fours out of his head.

Yeah, that's his life now. So desperate to find love, so touched starve for physical attention that he is now delusional enough to imagine his rival remotely attractive while positioned under him.

What else could go wrong for him?

He dragged his hands on to his face sliding them down to the sides of his chin still not believing how betrayed he feels by his own perturbed mind.

The thing is, he managed to effortlessly pull a grown ass woman he has zero attention on, to like him. But any girl his age doesn't even bat a eye when crossing paths. It's like a damn curse he can't get rid of.

He's tried but no luck. He always thought his looks were average. He has a great personality. What else do they want?

He scratched his scalp while processing whatever shit load his brain is dumping on him as Stan just eyes him while eating a burger.

You'd think his only concerns would be the fact that he's literally picturing indecent shit about Cartman. But no, that's far from it. To be honest this is mild compare to what he has to endure with his sexually frustrated brain.

Hormones has been his worst enemy these past years. And yet, unlike his other friends he hasn't score anything.

He's not sure if it's the thought that all his friends has done it, and when he means by "it" he means the big S word. Sex.

Well, if you include Cartman he's technically not alone but c'mon that's basically expected from that fat bastard.

So he's technically screwed if he's on his level on not being good enough to be fucked.

He scratched his head in desperation as he sighed.

Stan patted his back in understanding. He has already told Stan a year prior about feeling insecure with it. However, the other only told him the most basic, corny ass shit he could think of "only time will define and just don't feel pressure about it. It's not a big deal", then backtrack it all after scoring with Wendy a week after.

"Dude you're missing out big time, you HAVE to try it," those words echoed his head, and been echoing his head since their middle grade years.

He scratched again angrily before finally deciding to eat his almost forgotten food.

He eyes Cartman basically undressing him. Spiteful. In his defense he started it for just even suggesting that possibility. So he deserves to be ridiculed in this way. Technically this is harmless because it's a internal thought but it feels vengeful in a way. A way he can tolerate and accept he is fact being turned on by his rival.

Another thing he's been questioning in a battle.

His sexuality.

He's not sure if he's into women or men. There's only been a few exceptions when it comes to feeling remotely attracted to both those genders and he doesn't know why.

They're always specific and never spontaneous. He can't simply fall attracted to someone he just met or eyes as pretty. He REALLY has to know what he's dealing with first, and then attraction hits.

But nooooooo Mr. Broflovski here is also picky.

His perfect suit is smart, courageous feisty women. That's basically his personal pick. But at this point he'd go for anything.

Not Cartman though. He doesn't know why his brain in bugging right now.

But Cartman does seem to go for...

He stands up abruptly, startling his friends as he picks up his tray and went to place it in its bin before heading out of the cafeteria. Stan already following behind.

That's enough with thinking.

"Kyle, you okay dude?" Stan asked concerned, hands inside his pockets walking alongside him.

"Yeah, it's been just one of those weird days y'know?" He tried dismissing his thoughts away, focusing on his best friend.

"Yeah, I get that.. like-"

"Oh brother not this shit again," Kyle thought, fighting the urge to not roll his eyes. Isolating himself from the conversation while Stan finishes ranting about his break up with Wendy which was like three months ago and how he misses her.

He eyes the posters plastered on the walls as they walked pass them. Holes everywhere as the previous shooting had already ended but had left drastic but not too drastic damage.

He sighed, crossing his arms as he had stopped waiting for Stan to drink some water from the water fountain before continuously walking the hallways aimlessly as he ranted wanting to get back with her.

His concerns were not suppose to be a big deal, but he made them a big deal. And for what?

Unnecessary stress? They're other more important things to think about and here he was just worrying about being a virgin after graduating.

He never felt so unwanted. Pathetic, definitely pathetic and disappointed.

Maybe if his friends didn't rushed themselves to pass that huge step. Maybe he wouldn't be so worried about it. Maybe if they didn't push him into doing it he wouldn't think about it so much.

Maybe he wouldn't care so much if they all just didn't grow up so soon.

The day already has ceased to it's end, as Kyle dramatically lays on his bed in a position people would normally find funny. His head rested on his pillow while his left arm was folded to his side next to his head, fist against his forehead. His legs spread apart while his other arm was extended to the edge of the bed. His belly exposed as his shirt was slightly lifted to the side of his abdomen.

But Kyle was devastated, exhausted and annoyed mostly.

He huffed before falling asleep.

#kyman #south park #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #Cartman your girlfriend’s a freak! (fic) ✍️#tell me if u guys like this first chap u guys cx

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remitergel · 4 months

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Ooooooooooooh Kyle’s moms a bitch she’s a big fat bitch she’s the biggest bitch in the whole wide world

She’s the biggest bitch if there ever was a bitch she’s a bitch to all the boys and girls!

Scene redraw of one of my favorite moments in South Park

#south park art #south park #kyle broflovski #eric cartman

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angelicyouth · 1 year

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Youth ; Chapter 3

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: descriptions of a panic attack

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

A cacophony of voices fight to be heard over the other, everyone shit talking around the game of Mario Kart that’s currently set up in our living room. The boys and I watch as the four players duke it out on the big screen, witnesses to a friendship-breaking competition.

Loud stomping abruptly interrupts the taunts, “Y/N! What the hell? Is that my fucking shirt that you’re wearing?” My brother violently hollers from his spot, standing halfway down the stairs to peer down at the rest of us.

“The one you’ve been looking for all morning? Yup.” I lazily drawl from my spot on the couch, obnoxiously popping the “p” in my reply. My head slightly shifts as Tweek attempts to neatly braid my hair, Butters gently coaching him from the side.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Made me waste a bunch of time looking for nothing.” Stan continues as he finishes his journey down the stairs.

“You act like you have better things to do, loser. No girlfriend, no job—nada. So I don’t see what the big deal is. Are you on your period or something?” An accidental sharp tug makes me wince, Tweek muttering apologies as he quickly kisses the top of my head in repentance for his mistake.

“Shut up! Quit stealing my shit!” He's standing off to the side of the couch now, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

I glare at Stan and say around a mouthful of orange chicken at the top of my lungs. “Quit stealing my weed then!”

”God, you’re such a fucking pothead!” He shouts, fists clenching in anger.

”Says the alcoholic who starts his day with a shot!” It’s a low blow but all I can see is red.

“Bro, quit being a whiny bitch. You’re not dirt poor like Kinny. Just buy a new one.” Said blonde flashes Cartman his middle finger so he rolls his eyes and attempts to correct himself. “What? Fine, at least you weren’t born ginger and a Jew like Kahl. Talk about a double whammy, I’d honestly kill myself.”

”You don’t need a reason to kill yourself, Cartman. Make all of us happy for once and just do it. If you really need a reason, just think about how fat you are and how much wasted space you take up.”

”Aye!”

The match concludes with Jimmy coming out on top and the boys deciding to abandon the game entirely. They resume eating the Chinese takeout that’s laid out on the coffee table in front of them and half-heartedly listen to the sibling’s routine bickering.

“Take it off.” He scoffs at me, face heated with anger. Tolkien rolls his eyes so hard that I’m surprised a headache doesn’t occur.

“Huh?”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re stupid, not deaf. Want me to ask mom to get you hearing aids? I said: take. It. Off.” Comes out of my brother’s gritted teeth, each word growing more impatient and strained.

“Big deal, Stan! There’s so many other fucking shirts in this house. Feel free to get one from my closet if you need one so bad.” I retort in exasperation, clenching the denim on Tweeks legs that lay on either side of my body in frustration.

“Ack!” The frenzied blond yelps from behind me and I let go, fiddling with the creases on his jeans instead.

“No! Didn’t you hear me, r-tard? It’s mine, I bought it. Now, take it off!” Kyle closes his eyes at the elder Marsh’s words, tired beyond his years.

“Able to throw some money away for a dumb shirt but you can’t even pay me back my hundred dollars.” The local space enthusiast mumbles to himself, a chorus of ‘shut up, Craig!’ resounds from the boys in Team Stan.

“Fine!” I smirk and get off from my perch on the couch, a sly yet very bold idea pops up into my head. The perfect little thing to piss my dear older brother off. If you want petty, I’ll give you petty.

I grab my shirt from the hem and start to slowly lift it off of my frame, quirking a smug eyebrow and taunting my brother with a smile when more skin starts to show.

“Woohoo!” Kenny hollers excitedly at me, his hands in the air.

“F-f-fuck! No! Quit it, will you?! Don’t fucking do that!” Stan pushes those in his way aside and the boys make it hard for him on purpose by sticking out their legs to trip him. My brother scrambles over to me, forcing my hands down.

“Aw. What’s wrong, Stanley? You’re starting to sound a lot like Jimmy, how cute. I thought you wanted your stupid shirt?” I jeer at him. It’s like what Bebe always says: boys never know what they want and that’s the problem with them. Amen, sister.

“Ewww, Marsh. No one wants to see your underdeveloped body.” Craig socks Cartman on the arm, hard and the larger teen squeals like a dying pig.

“Don’t listen to them, sexy! Keep on going!” Clyde joins in laughing, sliding off his jacket and twirling it over his head in support of the apparent stripping going on.

“You’re voluptuous! Curvaceous! I’m already down on my knees at the sight of you, sweet thang!” Clyde continues to exaggeratedly hype me up, comically imitating the sound of a barking dog afterwards.

“I don’t know how you guys can take her seriously when her hair’s only halfway done. Looks like a damn hippie.” Cartman mumbles, more focused on inhaling his food and rubbing his now sore arm.

“Pffft, b-buh-baby Marsh gone w-wild!” Kung pao chicken accompanies Jimmy’s words of encouragement and he grabs one of his arm crutches, twirling it above his head too. My hands are still at the hem of my shirt, lifted up slightly and exposing a sliver of skin, even when my brother lets go.

I turn my head and catch Craig’s eyes trailing down as he smirks at me, his eyebrows lifted up playfully. A glint in his deep blues as he nonchalantly says, “I wouldn’t mind.”

While I’d normally giggle in amusement at the normally stoic teen and the contribution towards further riling my brother up, my face immediately flushes red after my talk with the girls at the party. I’d say that butterflies are invading my stomach, struggling to break free but it honestly feels like a whole damn zoo down there.

Feeling the adrenaline rush from my brother’s anger, the boys egging me on, and Craig’s attention, my heart beats at record breaking speed and I can feel my cheeks shyly heat up. This development doesn’t go by unnoticed as Kenny stops his playful cheering and laughing, watching the interaction between us two with furrowed brows.

“Fuck off, Tucker. Actually, fuck both of you all the way to hell.” My brother grumbles, angrily throwing himself onto an unoccupied space on the couch with his arms crossed. “It’s the fucking principle of things.”

“Big word, Stanley. Is that your word of the day? Did you learn it from this week’s episode of Sesame Street?” I mock him with a pout in fake sympathy.

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your fucking teeth in!” My brother’s stupid face goes red with anger.

He pouts when Kyle holds him back and rolls his eyes, ever the voice of reason. “They were just joking, Stan.”

“Yeah, Stanley. I was just joking.” My eyes continue to follow Craig as he lifts a bite of food towards his handsome face, wooden chopsticks pressed against his still smirking plush lips.

“Craig.” My brother says sharply this time, straightening up his back to glare at the teen over Cartman’s bigass head. I’m slightly confused as to what’s happening but still loving the attention Craig is giving me.

“Relax, Marsh.” Craig chuckles with a challenging look in his eyes. Tension begins to grow in the room and I’m lost because the other guys would normally laugh at suave shit like that and instigate a fight.

I roll my eyes and figure that it’s just them being overly protective, going back to my spot in between the cute coffee addict’s legs so that he can finish his attempt at doing my hair. Butters has a small braid done in between tufts of silky blonde from when I demonstrated the process to Tweek. He rubs his knuckles together, nervous energy exuding from his body as I return next to him.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The girls excitedly informed me of tryouts and the process, which involves practice with the already established team and the new potential recruits. A week and a half is given to learn a few cheers before the day they hold the official tryouts, which was today. It’s here where I finally meet Nichole Daniels, Tolkien’s girlfriend. It would’ve been nice if he brought her over from time to time but I can understand his vehement refusal of bringing her anywhere near a number of dumb boys. Trouble seems to follow the guys wherever they go.

As promised to the parentals, I attended and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be with the friends I’ve already made being here. I’ve never had problems with dancing as it comes easy to me so it’s nice to just hang out and bask in the feminine energy.

My parent’s request has continued to go under the radar as the boys have been busy with the football season starting. Their practice allows me to not have to think of an excuse for staying out late since they’re already busy, extracurricular activities taking up their time after school as they prepare for the season.

I shove the heavy front doors of the school open, the sun almost fully set as a gradient of red, yellow, and orange bathe me in their hues. The girls always remember to offer me a ride home from their parents but I always politely reject, my guilt not allowing any of them to go out of their way and use their gas on me.

My hands are shoved into my pockets, trying to accumulate as much heat as possible while I begin the journey home. Wisps of fleeting, misty clouds escape from my mouth after each puff of breath I let out and I watch them disappear. I bask in the rare moment of solitude and the quiet that comes with it.

I’m colder than I normally would be tonight because a freshman accidentally spilled her gatorade onto the duffel bag that I’ve been using for cheer. Not only were the sweats that I usually throw on over my shorts drenched in sticky sweetness, but the clothes I wore to school earlier were also an unlucky casualty to the liquid electrolytes.

I wonder if I’ll make the cheer team, I ponder to myself.

The rhythmic sound of my steps on the concrete sidewalk accompany me on my walk and I hum to myself until I hear sharp, rambunctious laughter. I’m startled as my head shoots up and see that across from me in the distance are a group of boisterous, older teens. Fear resounds within me when I faintly remember them terrorizing my brother and friends when they were in the fourth grade, them having been in the sixth at the time.

I pray in my head that they don’t notice me but my prayers go unanswered as they cross the street, now joining me on the same sidewalk. I know I can’t outrun them so I panic and impulsively decide to take a detour, turning right into an alleyway until I dreadfully notice that I can still hear them from behind. What was once just the sound of obnoxious laughter is now the noise of thundering footsteps following closely, beginning to get louder and louder.

My feet hastily pick up their pace and I can feel the tremors reverberate through my now sweating hands, anxiety filling me to the very core. My trembling makes the process of pulling out my phone agonizingly slow and I silently curse at my misfortune.

The white puffs of air that once brought me entertainment on my walk now serve as a reminder of the danger I’m in. Unlike before, they come out of my mouth in quick intervals and I clench my teeth to bid them away.

Out of nowhere, someone roughly yanks on my ponytail and they’re quick to cut off my yelp as a rough hand forces itself onto my mouth. The assailant painfully holds onto my other arm, both grips enforcing excruciating pain.

“Hey, I recognize you. You go to our school, always around those dumb boys.” One of the perpetrators in front of me sneers as he brings his face up to mine, his rancid breath invading my senses and making me feel even sicker than before.

“Lucky, aren’t we? We got baby Marsh!” Their eyes lighten up in both delight and recognition. I can feel upcoming bile trying to force its way up my throat from hearing the term of endearment the boys call me used like this, the connotation eerie in this situation.

Trying to make a sound is futile as all my cries for help are muffled, my captor getting annoyed at my squirming and relocating his hold on my arm to my neck instead. He squeezes and I whimper in fear, my breathing becomes more desperate when my kicking and elbows do nothing to deter him.

“Why’re you crying? You’re just asking for it when you walk around in fucking shorts. We live in South Park. No one would dress that way outside in the snow if they weren’t a total slut.” They all degradingly mock me, laughter resounding throughout the cold air as foreign fingers begin to play along the edge of my shorts.

“Pffft, dumb bitch.” One of them slaps me just because they have the power to do so in my vulnerable state before squeezing both of my cheeks together with one hand, hard.

“Who wants to go first?” They all fight over the answer to the question and I clench my eyes shut in dread, the color draining from my face.

Before they can do anything, yelling can be heard and I’m dropped by my captor. I stumble to the dirty ground of the alleyway at the loss of my previous support. On the floor, I painfully dig my nails onto my thighs. My breath hitches and my chest tightens, my panicking intensifying despite finally being free.

Short breaths rake through my trembling body and my nails dig deeper. Crescent moons appear on soft skin, invoking blood. My head starts to feel a little light and I try my hardest to calm myself down but it’s to no avail, my attempts prove to be futile. My unoccupied hand trembles as they reach up to touch wet, stinging cheeks. I didn’t even notice that I‘ve begun to sob as every gasp for air racks my body.

“Holy shit.” Varying voices can be heard from around me but my mind barely registers their words as my head continues to feel even lighter than before.

Even though I’m unable to determine whether or not I’m safe, I don’t flinch when someone crouches next to me and hastily crushes me against their hard chest. I’m numb to my surroundings and everything feels distorted. It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning.

“Ack! She’s hyperventilating! Gyah!”

“No fucking shit captain obvious!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The chest I’m against rumbles and my brain finally registers it as the sound of Kenny’s voice. I muster up what little strength I have to look up and see my boys around me. My brother is directly crouched in front of me and from my peripherals, I can just barely see that it’s Kyle in the same position next to him, eyes wide in panic.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

“Fuck! What should we do?!” It’s Tolkien this time but I can’t look away from my brother. My eyes are begging him to do something, anything to make it stop. Oh how I wish twin telepathy were real.

“Breathe, baby. You need to breathe for me.” The world tilts around me as a soothing voice near my ear urges. A resounding gasp of air struggles to be inhaled but it’s too shaky and tears of frustration continue to fall. My breathing isn’t slowing and I just want this to be over.

“Someone needs to do something before her heart gives out!” Someone loudly kicks what sounds to be a trash can in anger, messily spilling its contents all over the floor and I flinch at the blow.

“Y/N, breathe.” Stan coaches me, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. His large hand encompasses my smaller one, exerting slight pressure until I can feel his heartbeat.

“Just focus on the sound of my voice and follow me. In, and out. In, and out. I’m here. You see me, right? You’re here with me at this very moment and you’re safe. You’re always safe with me. Big brothers always got you, yeah?”

I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t.

I’ve been trying and nothing is happening.

It won’t stop and I can’t fucking breathe.

I don’t want to disappoint everyone but I’m tired.

“Shh, shh. You can, love, you can. I know you can.” Kenny patiently encourages me as he gently brushes strands of my hair away from my sticky, tear-stained cheeks. Heavily disoriented, I didn’t seem to realize that I was verbalizing all of my thoughts.

“You know why? Because my girl is the absolute best—the best girl ever and everyone who's anybody knows that. She’s resilient and just so, so strong. As long as she tries her best, I’ll always be proud of her no matter what and nothing she can do will ever disappoint me. Literally, nothing. She could put a bullet through my head and I’d just pass away in euphoria because my last living memory is of a goddess with ethereal beauty.” Kenny continues and ever so slightly, a corner of my lip lifts up.

This is familiar. This is comforting. I know this. The playful flirting and cheesy, over the top exaggeration. His soothing voice helps guide me back down to Earth as I focus on the rising chest of my brother under my fingertips. This is familiar, too. It’s a sound I’ve always known, even before I was born. Whenever I’m feeling sad or scared, my big brother will always hug me to his chest, my ear pressed against the faint beating of his heart. The rhythmic sound let’s me know that I’m safe, I always am when he’s here. This sound is the other half of me.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. Really great. You always do great and I knew you would.” It’s the voice near my ear again and this time, I’m finally able to look away from my brother to see that the voice belongs to Craig. It appears he had a hand on my shoulder throughout the whole ordeal, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over my jacket.

I now notice that Butters has my other hand firmly in his, tears streaking down both his and Clyde’s faces. They all must have found me after practice and I’m thankful that I wasn’t too far from the school before everything went down.

When they ask me what I was doing out so late, in athletic shorts no less, I mumble an excuse about the girls inviting me to workout in the weight room back at school. They don’t know that it’s not just today that I’ve been trekking home alone at night and I don't want to correct their assumption when they sternly lecture me on how dangerous it is.

After taking me home and getting myself cleaned up, they decide on an impromptu movie night filled with blankets, pillows, and snacks. Last minute texts are sent to their parents, notifying them of an emergency sleepover. They place me in the middle, a cocoon of softness, warmth, and comfort. They let me choose all the movies for the rest of the night and the food we order for delivery.

Our faces are colored a pale green from the clay mask I put on everyone, those with longer hair having mini palm trees at the top of their head from being tied up away from their faces.

Self care, they told me.

This isn’t edible so don’t try to lick it off your face, I told Cartman.

I slowly look around and take in the bright light of the television reflecting off of their individual faces. Some people, like Tolkien and Kyle, are starting to nod off, fighting the last dredges of sleep for my sake. On the other end of the spectrum, Butters and Clyde jump at every loud sound that accompanies the suspenseful music, paranoia painting their faces white. Tweek catches my eye and gently feeds me a kernel of popcorn.

Surrounded by my boys, I smile knowing I’m safe whenever I’m with them.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

I’m sitting in front of my vanity, carefully applying some makeup to cover the faint bruising on my cheek, the process therapeutic. The occasional clicking of buttons could be heard, Craig lounging on my bed with a handheld gaming console in his hands. I softly mouth along to the words of the low music playing from my phone while faint laughter can be heard from downstairs.

I chance a glance up and catch Craig’s reflection from the corner of my eyes, but I don’t turn my head around as we make eye contact through the mirror. My lips unconsciously quirk up, fondness of the boy behind me fills my entire being from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “Hmm? What’s up, Tucker?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a thoughtful look adorning his attractive features. Ever since the night the boys found me, I’ve been catching their lingering gazes on me from time to time. Eyes distant, as if they’re looking past me.

I settle both of my elbows onto the tabletop, my hands carefully framing both of my cheeks lest I smudge my hard work. My smile doesn’t falter, never when I’m with him, and I lightheartedly tease him, “What? Never seen a good looking Marsh before? I know you’re around my brother all the time but he's not that ugly.”

I’m successful in getting a reaction from him because I’m soon rewarded with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, his expression softening, “Come here.”

His deep voice is firm, filling my room with its gentle demand and I blindly obey. With Craig, I’d do just about anything for him. He’s now seated upright and has positioned himself at the edge of my bed, legs open and his thumb tapping a beat onto his thigh.

When I’m close enough, the boy grabs both of my hands, interlocking our fingers together. He gives the intertwined digits a swift, reassuring squeeze before guiding me to him to close the short distance between us. I stand in between his legs and he elicits sudden goosebumps along my arms as he carefully drags his long fingers down the length of it, slowly before finding purchase at my hips.

I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, bringing us closer together and he gently squeezes in response. He murmurs so quietly, “Are you okay?”

I softly reply, my thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his neck, catching strands of smooth black hair. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Our voices are hushed. There’s no need to be quiet but it feels like we’re in a bubble and at any disruption, no matter how slight, might pop it.

“Yeah… You know I’m always here for you, right?” I softly nod in response, a slight shift in this space of intimacy we’ve created.

“You know you have me, right?” Again, I nod as I hang onto his words.

“Because I’d do anything for you, Y/N. It doesn’t matter what it is—big or small. At the asscrack of dawn or in the middle of the night. I'd drop whatever I was doing if it meant getting to you when you need me.” His long fingers reach up to lightly smooth his thumb at the area where soft skin meets makeup.

“If you ever have any doubts or feel upset about anything, just talk to me, okay? And I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to erase those doubts and remind you of how much you mean to me. I don’t ever want you to feel alone or less of anything, not when you mean everything to me.” The ravenette continues as he moves his hand, this time tucking silky strands of hair away from my face and behind my ear.

I shyly giggle in bliss at his soft touch and even lighter voice. “Where is this coming from, Craig?”

He ignores my question, persistent to convey his message to me. “You do know that, right, Y/N?”

“Of course, I’ve never doubted it or thought otherwise.”

“Good.” The teen says, satiated before bringing us down onto the bed.

My hands lay themselves against his chest to keep myself upright and he caresses my head with both hands, angling my head down to give my forehead a soft kiss. His lips lingers before pulling away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It wasn’t hard for the girls to see the slight traces of lingering purple under my attempted camouflage. I tried to reassure them that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine, yet they persisted in trying to make up for it due to the guilt they all felt.

I had just finished applying my daily cover up and was adding the final touches to my hair, making sure that every single strand was in place. Satisfied, I turn the brightness of my computer screen back up until the reflection of myself on the glass disappears. I had time before I was due to head out so I loosely curled every lock cascading down my shoulders, braids adorning either side of my head. The girls wanted to take me out later in the day as an otherwise unnecessary apology and I hummed to myself in excitement.

“Wow, doll. Is this all for me?” I look up from the boss battle I was currently engaged in, pausing to identify the intruder that let out a low whistle.

Kenny leans off from his laidback position on my door frame and lazily walks up behind me, the end of his lips quirked up. He gives me an appreciative hum as he takes his time scanning my appearance, indulging his eyes on my figure. I patiently smile at his appreciation.

“Ah, scratch that. That was a stupid question, you’re beautiful every single day to anyone who lays their eyes on you. You don’t even need to try so I meant to say that this is a welcomed treat.” I turn around in my seat to face him, giggling at his words of praise. I greedily drink them in as I loop my arms around his waist.

“Beautiful?” I seek more of his validation, a deepening blush rising on my cheeks as I parrot back his compliment.

He takes a small section of my hair and gently guides his hand to his face, kissing the soft locks in his possession. He hums to me, “Beautiful, bewitching, alluring… You’re every synonym and every iteration of the word, babe. You define beautiful, you’re the very embodiment of it. That word was created because of you—if I were to look under the definition of it, your name would be there.”

My smile grows wider and my cheeks start to hurt from the action, resulted by the constant influx of euphoria that the blonde never fails to provide me. Whether from being drunk on the male’s compliments or shyness, the color red has made its permanent residence onto my cheeks.

He lets go of my hair and gently cups his large hands on either side of my face, angling it up towards his taller figure.

“Pretty.” He quietly utters to my skin, kissing my forehead.

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to my nose this time.

“Irresistible.” A kiss to my left cheek.

“Ravishing.” A firmer kiss to my right cheek with a playful growl, melodic laughter gets pulled out of me.

“Lovely.” He says much softer this time, watching me with gentle eyes. He keeps his devoted gaze onto my visage, his thumb lightly goes over my lips once. “Everything a guy could ever ask for in a person. Everything that I could ever want in life. If I could have one wish, it’d be you.”

My eyes flicker between bright azure orbs, the air between us charged. Before I can say anything, the sound of muffled yelling from my brother’s room startles us. I hastily look away embarrassed, the moment between us broken.

“Can I make you pretty, too?” I flash him a toothy grin and he playfully rolls his eyes, seeking refuge onto my bed. That’s all the answer I need before I push at his shoulders to guide his back down before I settle myself onto his lower stomach, giggling with an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a makeup brush in the other.

Washing flecks of glittery white over his eyelids, I bring my face closer to his and take the time to study the teen under me while his eyes are closed. His slender hands find purchase at my hips and I find myself mesmerized at the mini constellations that adorn his handsome face. Albeit not many, every freckle looks like a tiny star, accentuating the blonde’s mesmerizing features.

I lean in closer to get a better look as I carefully paint a streak of black, a steady hand making a line. I inspect my latest stroke when his hand gently grabs the wrist of the hand I have hovering over his face, the same one holding my eyeliner brush. His eyes slowly open as to not disturb my art, our faces close to one another. Kenny showcases his boyish smile, flashing me with deep dimples at the lack of space between us and my eyes inadvertently lower, seeking plush lips.

“Haven’t you noticed that yeah, the boys are overprotective over you. But when it comes to Kenny and Craig, it’s different?”

Fuck.

#south park #south park x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick x reader #lalawrites

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