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princesskenny1998 · 2 months ago

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South Park | Eric Cartman x f!recovered!insecure!reader ~ TWLOHA

TW: Mentions of self harm, scars, Eric Cartman

The streetlights outside flickered dimly, casting an orange hue across your room. You were curled up on your bed, your knees pulled to your chest, and your phone in hand as you scrolled aimlessly through social media. Every now and then, you’d check the time, waiting for Eric to call or text, like he always did.

Dating Eric Cartman was… complicated. He was loud, brash, and unapologetically blunt. Most people didn’t see the soft side of him that you had come to know, buried deep beneath layers of sarcasm and bravado. Sometimes, you wondered if even Eric knew it was there. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he had a way of making you feel wanted, even cherished in his strange way. That was what made your relationship so confusing, because as much as you cared for him, there was a part of you that was terrified.

Terrified of what he’d think if he knew.

Your fingers instinctively grazed over your arms, feeling the familiar ridges of old scars hidden beneath your sweater. They were faded now, but they were still there—constant reminders of nights spent battling the darkness in your mind, of moments when everything had felt too heavy, too overwhelming.

You hadn’t told Eric about them. You didn’t know how. You had seen how he could be—quick to make jokes, to point out flaws, to use people’s insecurities against them. It was just his way. But this? This was too personal, too raw, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out and using it against you in a moment of anger.

So, you hid it. Long sleeves, pants, anything to keep the truth tucked away.

But you were getting tired of hiding.

The lyrics of a song you’d been listening to a lot lately echoed in your mind—“Well, she won’t leave this night alone, and she won’t sleep at all. And all the sorrow that she takes out on herself, it comes around and leaves her bleeding on the floor…”

It felt like the song was written for you, like the words understood the weight you carried, the shame you couldn’t shake. You thought about how much easier it would be if you could just let someone in, if you could tell Eric what you’d been through and trust that he wouldn’t hurt you with it.

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

Your phone buzzed on the bed, breaking your thoughts. It was Eric.

“Be there in 10.”

You sat up, your heart skipping a beat. Eric didn’t usually come over unannounced, but then again, Eric didn’t really follow any sort of schedule. Quickly, you checked yourself in the mirror, making sure your sleeves were long enough to cover your arms. You weren’t sure why you were so anxious tonight—after all, Eric had seen you plenty of times—but there was something about tonight that felt different, like the weight of your secret was growing heavier with every passing day.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. You took a deep breath before opening it, and there he was—Eric Cartman, hands in his hoodie pockets, a smug grin on his face.

“Hey,” he said, walking past you into your room like he owned the place. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes, closing the door behind him. “You were just here yesterday, Cartman.”

“Yeah, but it feels longer. You know how much you miss me,” he teased, plopping down on your bed without a care in the world.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. As much as Eric could be a pain, there was something oddly comforting about his presence. He made everything feel less serious, less heavy.

But not tonight. Tonight, that weight was still there, looming over you like a shadow.

Eric glanced at you, his expression softening just a bit. “You okay? You look like you’re about to cry or something.”

You stiffened, quickly shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just… tired.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and leaned back against the pillows, patting the spot next to him. “Come on, lay down. You’ve been stressed or whatever, just chill.”

For a second, you hesitated, your mind racing. Laying down meant being close to him, which you usually loved, but what if he accidentally saw your arms? What if your sleeves rolled up, and he noticed the scars? Your stomach twisted at the thought, but you forced yourself to push the anxiety aside.

It was fine. You’d be careful.

You crawled onto the bed next to him, keeping your arms tucked close to your body as you rested your head on his shoulder. His familiar scent—cheap cologne and snacks—was oddly comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, just enjoying being close to him.

But Eric wasn’t one to stay still for long. After a few minutes of silence, he shifted, turning to face you. His eyes flickered down to your arms, and before you could stop him, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your sleeve up without warning.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, his voice casual, but his eyes narrowing as he took in the faint scars that lined your forearm.

Panic surged through you, and you tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, holding you in place.

“Eric, stop,” you pleaded, your voice shaking.

But Eric didn’t let go. He stared at the scars, his expression unreadable, and for the first time, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There was no smug grin, no sarcastic comment. Just silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“What the hell is this?” His voice was quieter than usual, and there was something strange in his tone—something you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, to explain the truth. But Eric wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to let it go.

“Did you… do this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, nodding ever so slightly. The shame you’d been carrying for so long felt overwhelming now, suffocating.

Eric didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stared at your arm, his thumb brushing lightly over the scars as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Finally, he let go of your wrist, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he sat there, his hands clenched into fists in his lap, his jaw tight.

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t know how to answer. How could you explain the nights when everything felt too heavy, when the darkness seemed like it would swallow you whole? How could you make him understand the pain that had driven you to hurt yourself, to try to find some way—any way—to make it stop?

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It just… it just happened. I was in a really bad place.”

Eric was silent again, and for the first time, you couldn’t read him. He was always so loud, so sure of himself, but now he just looked… lost.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke again, his voice rough. “You should’ve told me.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I couldn’t. I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Eric’s voice was sharper now, and he turned to face you, his eyes flashing with something like anger. “Scared of me? You think I’d make fun of you for this?”

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

Eric let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Weak? You’re not weak, you idiot.”

The harshness of his words stung, but there was something else beneath them—something softer, almost protective.

“I don’t care about your stupid scars,” Eric continued, his voice lower now. “I care that you’re sitting here thinking you had to hide this from me. I care that you thought I’d make fun of you for something like this.”

You wiped at your eyes, sniffling. “You make fun of everyone.”

“Yeah, but not for this,” he snapped. “This is serious.”

The room fell silent again, and you could feel the tension between you, thick and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say. You had expected anger, maybe even cruelty, but not this. Not the quiet frustration and the strange, almost protective tone in Eric’s voice.

“Look,” Eric said after a while, his voice quieter now. “I’m not good at this, okay? I’m not good at the whole feelings thing. But you don’t have to hide this from me. I’m… I’m your boyfriend, and I care about you. Even if I’m an asshole sometimes.”

You looked up at him, surprised by his honesty. Eric rarely let his guard down, rarely showed this side of himself to anyone.

“I care about you too,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Eric nodded, still looking uncomfortable, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached out, taking your hand in his, and squeezed it gently.

“Don’t ever do this again,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Promise me.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. It wasn’t that simple. You couldn’t just promise never to feel that way again, never to struggle with the darkness that sometimes consumed you. But you could promise to try, to let him in when things got too heavy.

“I’ll try,” you whispered.

Eric nodded, seeming to understand. He didn’t push you for more, didn’t ask for promises you couldn’t keep. Instead, he just held your hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that was almost… comforting.

The lyrics of the song played softly in the back of your mind again—“And she knows that there’s a lot of ugly things about this world, but there’s an awful lot of beauty too…”

You weren’t sure if you believed that yet, but maybe—just maybe—you could start trying.

Eric stayed with you that night, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t push you to talk about your scars again, didn’t ask for explanations. Instead, he just stayed close, his hand never leaving yours, as if he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone.

It wasn’t perfect. You still had a long way to go, still had nights when the darkness crept back in. But now, with Eric by your side, it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming. You had someone who cared, someone who—despite his flaws—was willing to stay.

And maybe that was enough.

#south park #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman x you #twloha

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princesskenny1998 · 2 months ago

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South Park | Kenny McCormick x f!recovered!insecure!reader ~ TWLOHA

TW: Mentions of self harm, scars

The night hung heavy, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you as you sat alone in your room. The familiar darkness around you felt like an old companion, wrapping itself around your insecurities and the secrets you hadn’t yet shared with anyone—especially not with Kenny.

He had always been so kind, so easygoing, and it was almost impossible to believe that someone like him would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, he was. You were Kenny McCormick’s girlfriend, and somehow, that fact still didn’t seem real. Even now, with his arms so often around you, his playful jokes, and the way he looked at you with such warmth, you couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

Because you were hiding something from him—something you were terrified would make him see you differently. You hadn’t shown him your scars.

The scars on your arms, the ones that crept up from your wrists and onto your forearms, a map of the times you had tried to make sense of your pain. The scars on your legs, hidden beneath jeans or long skirts, where the marks still whispered of nights when the weight of the world had felt unbearable.

In those moments, you had tried to regain control, even if it meant hurting yourself. The shame of those moments had built up over time, and now, even though your scars had long healed, the emotional wounds were still raw. You hadn’t told Kenny because you were scared—scared that he would look at you differently, that his kindness would turn into pity or disgust.

That’s why you always kept your sleeves long, your pants covering the skin of your legs. It was easier to hide. Easier to pretend that everything was okay, even when the darkness inside you still clawed at your thoughts.

Tonight, though, that darkness felt closer than ever.

Kenny had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, but you had made an excuse. You told him you were tired, even though you knew you wouldn’t sleep. It was easier than explaining the truth—that you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you like this, with your mind spiraling and your insecurities clawing at your chest.

You sat on the floor, your back against your bed, staring at your arms in the dim light of your room. The streetlights outside shone through the window, casting long shadows across the walls. The scars were faint, but they were still there, reminders of the nights you’d spent feeling so lost and alone. The lyrics of a song you’d been listening to on repeat for days echoed in your mind—“Well, she won’t leave this night alone, and she won’t sleep at all. And all the sorrow that she takes out on herself…”

The lyrics resonated with you in a way that was both comforting and painful. You knew all too well what it felt like to take your sorrow out on yourself, to feel like you were carrying the weight of the world and not knowing where to put it down. You closed your eyes, the melody filling the room, and wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to push the thoughts away.

But they wouldn’t go. Not tonight.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at your door. You froze, your heart pounding. You hadn’t expected anyone—especially not Kenny.

“Hey, it’s me,” Kenny’s voice came from the other side, muffled but warm. “You didn’t answer my last text. I just wanted to check on you.”

You hesitated, staring at the door, unsure of what to do. You hadn’t prepared for this. You weren’t ready to see him, not like this. But before you could respond, the door creaked open just a little, and Kenny poked his head in, his messy blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but nodded anyway. Kenny stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He took one look at you, sitting there on the floor, and his expression softened with concern.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching down in front of you.

You wanted to lie, to tell him you were fine, that it was just one of those days, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting you,” you mumbled, pulling your sleeves down a little more, trying to hide your arms.

“I know,” Kenny said softly. “I just… I had a feeling. You didn’t seem like yourself earlier.”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. You felt exposed, like he could see right through you, even though you hadn’t said a word about what was really going on.

There was a long pause, and then, slowly, Kenny reached out and gently took your hands in his. His touch was warm, comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on that instead of the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words, so simple yet so sincere, made something inside you crack. The fear, the shame—it all came rushing to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, you started to cry.

“Kenny…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

He squeezed your hands gently, his gaze steady on yours. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. This was it. This was the moment you had been dreading. You pulled your hands away from his and slowly rolled up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the scars on your forearms. The tears kept falling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“These… they’re from… from before. From when things were really bad. I—I never wanted you to see them, because I was scared. I’m still scared. I thought if you knew, you’d think I was… I don’t know, broken or something.”

For a long moment, Kenny didn’t say anything. His eyes were locked on the scars, and his face was a mix of emotions—sadness, understanding, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You braced yourself for the worst, for him to pull away or to look at you with pity, but instead, he did something you never expected.

Kenny leaned in slowly, and with the utmost care, he pressed a gentle kiss to one of your scars. Then another. And another.

Each kiss felt like a balm to your wounded heart, like he was trying to erase the pain that had marked your skin, trying to show you that you weren’t broken, that you were loved. Tears streamed down your face, but they weren’t just tears of sorrow anymore. There was something healing in the way Kenny touched you, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were filled with so much tenderness that it made your chest ache.

“I hate that you went through this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate that you felt like you had to hurt yourself. But these scars… they don’t make me love you any less. They don’t change anything.”

You choked back a sob, feeling overwhelmed by his words, by the depth of his understanding. “But… how can you still want to be with me after seeing this? I’m a mess, Kenny.”

Kenny shook his head, his hands finding yours again, holding them tightly. “Everyone’s got their stuff, okay? Everyone’s been through shit. But that doesn’t make you any less amazing. It doesn’t make you less worthy of love. You’re not a mess. You’re just… human. And I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His words echoed in your mind, overlapping with the song that still played softly in the background—“And the stars are always there, but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. Remember hope. Hold onto hope. We have hope.”

Kenny leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, and his presence, so steady and sure, made the storm inside you quiet for the first time in what felt like forever.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You nodded, your tears finally slowing, and for the first time in a long time, you believed him. You weren’t alone. Kenny was here, and he saw you—all of you, even the parts you were ashamed of. And he still chose to stay.

The darkness in your mind wasn’t gone, and you knew there would still be hard days ahead. But for now, in this moment, you felt the warmth of Kenny’s love like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. His kisses on your scars were reminders that you were more than your pain, more than your past.

You were loved.

And that was enough to keep you holding on to hope.

Important Note:

To everyone who still struggles; it will get better, it will be manageable, you're not broken; you're just human. It took me over 15 years to not rely on that but I am clean now, and I know, you can be too. I believe in you. You are loved.

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#twloha #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x y/n #south park #kenny mccormick #sp kenny #Youtube

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