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angelicyouth · 2 years ago

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Youth ; Chapter 11

⇢ 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(s): underage drinking ; slight sexual content

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

Music reverberates throughout the whole venue, the bass so overwhelmingly strong that I can feel its vibration rattling what feels to be every bone in my body. There’s a large smile on my face as I loudly sing along to the lyrics of the current song playing, my hips moving to the thrum of the beat. Several bodies that are in close proximity to me make the room I’m currently in extremely humid, locks of slightly damp hair falling into my face every time I move my head.

I feel hands gently settle onto my sides before I get hefted onto someone’s shoulders for a better view, my fingers automatically tangling themselves with the slender hands that move to hold onto my thighs for better purchase. I look down and flash Tweek an appreciative smile in thanks, his red cheeks still vividly clear to me despite the darkness that encloses us.

Looking back to the front, I make eye contact with my brother despite the heightened stance the stage grants him. His moving mouth is near a black microphone, his lips quirking up in a little smirk when he sees my exhilarated form having fun and carelessly singing along. Stan preaches melodic notes into the cool metal in front of him as his fingers dance along the board of his electric guitar, confident in its strumming.

“This bottle of Randy’s awakens ancient feelings.”

I tap the forearms keeping me hold as a nonverbal message and get carefully placed onto the floor with the rest of the audience. My arms raise up over my head, my body swaying on time to the beat of the song before Butters grabs onto my lifted hand and urges me to jump in tune to the liveliness of the crowd with him.

Our faces become close to one another as we belt out to each other in playful jest, feeding into the energy of Crimson Dawn’s music. The multicolored lights brightly flash against us and add further simulation to our already overloaded senses in a pleasant way, the visuals provided for my brother's band perfect for their performance.

My eyes flicker towards the artists performing again, this time meeting the sultry gaze of the handsome blonde behind the bass. He has an exhilarated smile overtaking his whole face, small droplets of sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. Half of his blonde locks are tied up, his ring adorned fingers further accentuating the protruding veins running along his hands as they move. The shadows that get casted over him from the fluorescents define his muscles every time his arms flex, every movement highlighted in the blinding lights

Azure eyes lazily scan the crowd before making contact with mine, Kenny teasingly winking at me before sending me a flying kiss. I snicker as I mock myself catching it in the air in an over exaggerated, lovesick way before softly patting it on my heated red cheeks. I can see him endearingly chuckle under his breath before moving his lips near his own microphone to provide background vocals, seamlessly blending in with Stan’s.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Fatigue from constantly moving around begins to catch up to me and I can feel myself starting to slightly sober up from the heat that all these moving bodies inflict. I send the two dancing blondes next to me a look before they knowingly nod, their large hands reaching for both of mine before we create a human chain to weave our way through the energetic crowd.

After some slightly tipsy stumbling and random strangers drunkenly shouting out compliments towards us, we finally make it to one of the back tables that seats the rest of the boys. In my alcohol-induced daze, I lightheartedly giggle as Craig pulls me onto his lap, gently tucking away sweaty locks of hair away from my beaming face. His face has a cute flush to it from the beer he’s been nursing tonight, a languid yet small smile on his attractive face.

Tolkien deems our arrival worthy of another round of shots, leaving the table for a quick trip to the bar. We’re not of legal age for drinking yet but the owner of the location we’re at has made a special exception for us, turning a blind eye at his current gig’s guests of honor. The table we’ve been given has the most perfect view of the stage, a great place to watch the performance and dance without sweaty bodies to worry about.

“Are you having fun?” Craig’s deep voice sounds from behind my ear, so close that I can feel every wisp of air that hits the shell of my ear whenever he says a word.

I enthusiastically nod at him, tilting my head to present him with a smile in affirmation. He lightly squeezes the arms he has around my waist before planting a quick kiss to my hair. Tolkien returns with his hands full of shots, Kyle assisting him with bringing the large order over.

We all cheer before downing them at the same time, my face wrinkling in disgust as Craig chuckles knowingly. Unlike my brother, I can’t stand the taste of booze so it isn’t long before the teen under me hands me a glass of much needed chaser.

The soda soothes my burning throat as my eyes fondly watch the ravenette take his own shot. Despite the bitter taste, Craig takes it like a pro and maintains his expressionless face, but I still guide the edge of the cold glass to his mouth for him.

When I bring my hand away from his face, I attentively watch as his tongue darts out to run over his slicked lips before making eye contact with him. It’s silent albeit charged between us for a moment, a knowing smile on his face as my eyes playfully darken.

We break eye contact when a body sits besides us, my lips automatically quirking upwards when my gaze lands on Kyle. He offers me a bite of the pizza he’s nibbling on so I don’t get too shit faced tonight and I gratefully accept his offer. His longer fingers gently swipe at the corner of my sauce stained mouth, chuckling at the sight of my tongue trying to lick it off but repeatedly missing.

He lowers his head closer to mine when we finish our shared snack, speaking over the rim of the drink he leisurely takes a sip at. “When are you planning on telling your brother?”

My smile slowly drops, my mood becoming subdued when I register the curly haired teen’s words. I take a moment to reply, my voice hushed in its honesty. “I don’t know. I’m scared.”

He flashes me a reassuring smile, softly continuing. “Yeah, but out of everyone, your brother deserves to know. He cares about you, N/N. And I honestly don’t think he’d care about you being with two other guys at the same time. I think he’d be more upset that they’re his friends, but most importantly… That you didn’t tell him.”

I’m quiet as I listen, fiddling with Craig’s fingers over my lap. “... I know.”

Kyle’s right—he’s always right. I don’t think I can remember a time when he wasn’t. The day he isn’t is the day Hell freezes over and I hope to whoever is up there that I’m not here if that were to ever happen.

His hand finds my chin, lightly angling my face towards his. “He loves you, N/N. I think it’d just hurt him a lot more the longer you keep it from him. Just think about it, okay?”

I nod, and I’m not sure if it's from the liquid courage currently flowing through my veins or the teen in front of me but I’m determined when I speak again. “I’ll tell him. Not today, because I don’t want to ruin his night. But tomorrow, because I want him to know.”

I’m rewarded with a handsome smile, his fingers lightly skimming against my sides. I giggle when he playfully tickles me in an attempt to turn the solemn mood around, my hands coming up to swat at his as I angle myself away from him.

“Good girl. I’m proud of you. Want me to be there when you tell him?” I nod, the boy pressing a kiss on my forehead in validation for my brave decision.

I feel a lot better now that I know that I’ll finally be able to tell one of the most important person in my life, like a weight that I didn’t know was weighing me down has finally been lifted from my chest. I’m grateful for Kyle, for always pushing me outside of my comfort zone for the better. His unwavering support is something I’m lucky to have throughout the years and I send him a small smile in appreciation.

“You okay?” Craig says near my ear, his thumb at my waist rubbing soothing circles as he pulls out of his conversation with Jimmy. I nod and kiss his cheek for constantly checking up on me.

Cartman hands me a fruity cocktail to keep me company and I take a sip to make sure it's not a mocktail (the fat bastard has done that to me before, the asshole) and my lips quirk up when I can taste the distinctive taste of alcohol mixed in it. The guys around me begin to holler when my brother and his bandmates come up to the table after closing their show.

They’re rowdy as they congratulate the sweaty boys for getting this gig, my brother’s eyes are especially sparkling with a shine so bright and pure at the words of praise. I smile fondly as I watch the interaction, knowing how much music has helped him when he was diagnosed with both depression and an alcohol addiction at such an early age. The boys are all musically inclined so they often rotate depending on the songs of the chosen setlist, including me. Stan, however, is always in every lineup.

“N/N! Did you see my solo up there?” Clyde eagerly asks as he sits himself down on the booth next to me, clumsily shoving Kyle out of the way. The red head rolls his eyes while the brunette’s drumsticks clatter among the glasses of alcohol and food on the wooden table.

“I did!” I lightly pinch his cheeks, showering the brunette with compliments on both his performance and his stage presence. He proudly beams up at me as I place a hand on his cheek, using my thumb to tenderly wipe away some of the dampness clinging onto his brown locks.

“Wasn’t I so handsome?” The brunette continues, his mouth curved into a wide smile as he snacks on a plate of garlic fries.

“The most!” I giggle, Clyde’s need for words of affirmation so endearing to see.

“You guys need to catch up!” Cartman shouts over the loud music as he hands everyone a shot glass filled with vodka, urging another round for the new arrivals of the group.

“For Crimson Dawn—cheers!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Neon colored lights wash me in an array of hues in the darkness that engulfs the entire room, the cigarette smoke wafting above us makes the air surrounding me even more heavy and disorienting. I lean my back against the firm chest behind me, my eyes closing as arms loop themselves around my shoulders from behind.

My head tilts up before I open my eyes to dark blues already staring down at me, the corner of Craig’s mouth lifting into a lazy smile before our lips brush against each other. My hands shoot up to grasp at the skin of his arms, slowly sliding down before I feel his fingers around mine to intertwine with.

Fingers hook themselves around the belt loops of my jeans, tugging my body closer to the blonde in front of me. Long fingers then relocate to my exposed waist, lightly grazing against the skin on my sides at a sensual pace. The metal of the rings on Kenny’s hands press against me, cool to the touch and eliciting a wave of goosebumps throughout my arms despite the humidity.

He flashes me a cocky smile when my lips slightly part at the sensation before he begins to slowly close the distance between our faces. He’s close enough that I can feel every puff of breath that leaves his mouth as they softly hit mine, the both of us mouthing along to the lyrics of the song currently playing.

When the blonde angles his face forward to slot our lips together, I teasingly giggle at him when I pull my head back at the last second. The fingers on my waist slightly tighten in warning, alighting my body in rapid fire at the promise of a more dominant lover. His hands are firm as he holds me in place, our mouths finally meeting.

The kiss is languid yet heated, my hands blindly reaching out to tug at the hair behind his head. It’s possessive, greedy as his tongue fights with mine in a heated battle. I taunt him by softly biting down on his lower lip, feeling the blonde smile into the kiss in amusement. It tastes like alcohol but most importantly, something that makes it so distinctively Kenny that I happily hum into his mouth.

Craig leans down to push his face into the crook of my neck, gently mouthing along with the music in between small nips at smooth skin. His lips lightly skim over the soft expanse he has access to, so light that it almost feels non existent. Due to this, it's a surprise when his teeth sink down to harshly bite along its path in stark contrast.

His tongue is hot when it darts out, soothing abused spots that have also been victim to the slight suction of his mouth. The temperature of the room and our movements to the music causes him to huff out breaths of air, each puff hitting already wet skin and eliciting a sensation of extreme sensitivity.

A string of saliva connects us when the blonde and I part, his thumb reaching out to wipe at the corner of my slicked lips. He keeps his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling as our lungs desperately take reprieve at our separation.

“Such an erotic face, Princess.” He lowly says, azure eyes languidly scanning over my wrecked form. My lips are slightly parted, wet from his own, and my chest quickly heaves up and down.

I can feel my cheeks heat up into a blush as I shyly smile up at him, the large hands around my waist sliding back until they rest on my ass. The blonde in front of me teasingly squeezes the mounds of flesh he currently has his hands full of, evoking loud laughter out of me.

My body resumes at its previous task of swaying to the music playing as Craig continues his attack on the ladder of my neck. I can feel him smile into the crook of soft skin as he begins to grind into me, the corner of my lips quirking up when I dance against him. His hot tongue lightly trails against me and I bring an arm over to the back of his neck, slowly sliding my fingers up until I can tug on tufts of black hair.

His arms bring me impossibly closer to his body, his warm breath hitting my ear. “Careful, someone might see us if we don’t behave.”

His deep, rich voice makes my knees buckle and I’m thankful that both Craig and Kenny have their hold on me. An attractive voice like that is all I need for the rest of the night because the sound of it is enough to get me drunk out of my mind—hoarse from alcohol yet still smooth like honey.

I just amusedly chuckle in answer at the hypocritical statement, our conjoined bodies hidden by other people on the dance floor. We walked pretty far from the table as a precaution, just in case any of the guys decided to have their hand at dancing. Even though alcohol courses through our bodies, we still knew to be smart with what we were doing.

The three of us move together before a hand shoots out to grab at Kenny’s shoulder. His eyebrows lift up in surprise before turning to see Kyle. The curly haired teen has his brows furrowed at the suggestive position we’re in and I’m certain that he’s judging us as he crosses his arms, the expression on his face unamused. Or not, oops.

“We’re heading out, fuck. You guys are so fucking lucky I was the one to look for you.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The boys decide that it's too early to call it quits and to continue our celebration at Tolkien’s house. Glass bottles and red solo cups messily adorn the coffee table of the game room we’re in, a small smattering of white crystals on the corner of the wooden structure from when Cartman spilled the salt during tequila shots. The boys are drunk as they sing along to karaoke, deciding to forgo the pool table or one of the many arcade games that Tolkien has.

I loudly laugh from my position on the couch as Clyde dramatically belts out to a ballad, the boys raucously booing at him and throwing plastic cups or pillows at his singing form. His arm reaches out towards me as he serenades me, my hands lifting up to my face in an effort to wipe the tears rapidly leaking out from my eyes from laughing too hard.

When my brother begins to drunkenly tell every single person that he loves them every few minutes, Kenny takes that as his cue to get some air. He holds a hand out for me and helps heft my body off the sofa before he leads me out into the hallway. Walking past the doorway, I’m greeted with the sight of Craig leaning against the wall as he uses his cellphone.

The bright light from the cellular device allows me to see his attractive face in the dark hallway, his head lifting up to see us. When he pushes himself off from the lazy stance he has against the wall, he follows as Kenny leads us to one of the guest bedrooms.

I throw myself onto the bed as the blonde goes straight into the connected bathroom, and I call out to his disappearing form. “Are you taking a piss or are we smoking?”

“Piss!” I snort, watching his back from the mirror in the bedroom as he stands in front of the toilet.

I feel Craig settle his body next to mine, his arm getting thrown across my waist. I turn my body towards him and my eyes flutter close as he lays a soft kiss onto my forehead.

“How’re you feeling?” He quietly mumbles against my skin, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto my side.

When I tell him that I feel fine, he speaks up again in the same manner. “Just let me know if you need to throw up, okay? What number are you on?”

“Mmm…” I take a moment to seriously think, my eyes are still closed as I honestly answer. “I think I’m at a three, maybe a four. So not drunk, just feeling really good.”

“Need any water? Or food? I can get you some chips or something to soak up the booze in you.” I feel a fond smile grow on my face, my arm snaking itself around the ravenette’s waist for his caring virtue. Always so tender and sweet, even when inebriated he never fails to constantly have me and my well being on his mind.

“I’m okay, but I promise that I’ll let you know if anything changes. Thank you, I love you.” I tighten my hold on his form before he hums, planting another light kiss to my forehead.

“I love you, too.”

“Even at my worst? Even if I accidentally throw up on you or if I’m an annoying drunk like Stan?” I teasingly ask around the grin still lying on my face.

When I open my eyes at the rush of love I feel for the taller teen, I see that he’s already looking at me with a tender smile on his face.

“Especially at your worst.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Want to smoke, Princess?” Kenny finally exits the bathroom, the lights still on in there and shining a sliver of brightness from the slightly cracked door into the otherwise pitch black guest room.

He settles himself on the neatly arranged pillows aligned at the head of the bed, his fingers playing with the yellow lighter in his hand. I bring my body up on its knees to face the blonde, watching his long fingers repeatedly roll over the metal spark wheel.

“... No. I don’t want to be high when…” I’m mesmerized as I watch his hands, lightly trailing off as I dazedly focus on the attractive teen.

He smirks from his position, a smug smile forming on his face and an eyebrow lifting up. There’s a mischievous spark behind his azure eyes as he lazily watches me in the darkness, a boyish grin forming around his probing question. “... When?”

I feel myself violently blush, catching myself as my hands begin to clench on the material of my pants before whining. Why do they always want me to say the most embarrassing things? I swear they get off on teasing me.

The blonde's face is colored in amusement, putting his lighter away in his pocket. His upper torso leans forward, closer to my embarrassed form as his hand lightly skims itself on the side of my face. “Come on, babe. Use your words.”

Actually… They might, since they’re always asking me to fucking speak up.

We make eye contact as his thumb slowly trails itself to my lips, swiping a light finger on my lower one. He applies slight pressure before I slowly engulf his digit in wet heat, sucking slightly as I keep my eyes on his.

I can see the moment his eyes go from light mirth to a darkness of clear want, his voice husky. “Fuck.”

I flash him a sweet smile, faux innocent curving my mouth. He leans back against the headboard, his face now devoid of any playfulness that was just there a second ago.

“Come here.” He lowly commands, the deep baritone of his voice sending a cacophony of shivers throughout my body.

I just playfully hum to myself, turning my body around to return back to the ravenette watching the exchange in silent amusement. I purposefully disobey orders before I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, forcibly bringing my back to a firm chest.

My heart stutters in my body at the possessive hold the blonde has on me, his lips lightly hovering over the shell of my ear. I can hear the low chuckle that rumbles out of his chest from acting like a brat, his arms lightly squeezing my waist.

“You act like a bad girl, then you get treated like one.” He simply says before he lightly noses at the crook of my neck before diving to feverishly mouth at my skin.

He caresses my sides before he decides to keep his larger hands on my inner thighs, so close to my heat but not quite there. This causes me to clench my thighs in want, a needy whine breaking out of my throat before a hand shoots out to roughly angle my head towards his.

He tsks before our mouths desperately slide together wetly, breaths loud and labored as they become increasingly hotter and faster as he licks into my mouth. Another pair of hands settle themselves on my knees, the blonde taking that as his cue to bring his hands back to their solace on my waist.

Craig lightly pushes my legs apart before he settles himself in between them, gently massaging my skin as he lightly trails his fingers higher and higher until they get to my thighs. I get overwhelmed by all the sensations I’m currently experiencing as I break out of the blonde’s kiss to watch the ravenette continue his drawn out teasing. Kenny drags his fingers onto the skin of my sides before going further up, lifting the hem of my shirt higher.

I take the hint and lift my back off from the chest I’m leaning against, my fingers shaking in anticipation as I pull my top over my head. It lands carelessly into the darkness of the room and when I lean my body back against Kenny again, our skin makes contact with each other as he and Craig also took the time to rid themselves of their own shirts.

The blonde licks a long stripe up the underside of my neck and begins to lightly suck on the expanse of skin exposed to him. Feeling the wet heat of his mouth engulf me once more makes my voice desperately fight to be let out.

I can’t help the whimpering that threatens to be released so I try to harshly bite down on my lips in an attempt to stop. I hear Kenny chuckle, his fingers around my waist tightening as he noses into my neck when he breathily speaks out.

“Stop fighting it. Let us hear the beautiful sounds I know you can make.”

Craig’s hands make it to the top of my pants, slowly unbuttoning them before dragging them down my legs. His lips trail lightly over the area where the black lace of my underwear meets skin, teasing and slow.

When he begins to press firmer kisses, my hands shoot out to find quick purchase anywhere they can find. One of them finds themselves in a field of raven hair while the other clutches at the back of his shoulder blade.

He takes his time, trailing slowly over the dips and curves of my body. I can feel my fingers painfully imbed themselves on his skin, my nails dragging a trail of deep red as my hands tighten into fists.

I can feel his smirk against my skin when he kisses the goosebumps he leaves behind, my fingers tangled in his hair roughly urging at him to hurry the fuck up. He chuckles and the puffs of air that hit my skin causes heat to pool into my stomach.

His tongue darts out to take small licks, my back beginning to arch at the sensation of his wet heat against my body. I feel like I can get off right then and there at the sight of the boy in front of me, but I have to make a constant effort to keep my eyes open as they begin to flutter at the ravenette’s ministrations.

My mind is hazy as my hips begin to buck up, Craig’s large hand pushing at my hips to keep my body down. Labored breathing fills the room, sounding so loud in the quietness of the night.

”Patience.” The tall teen in front of me commands, dark azure making eye contact with me in warning.

I bite my lips as he holds our gazes for a minute, finally breaking it to wetly mouth his lips over my underwear. With his head in between my thighs, I resist the urge to clench them together at the feeling of his mouth finally against my heat. I softly moan at the sensation before it quickly transitions into a high pitched whimper, his tongue slowly dragging itself over the thin barrier separating me from him.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He soothes my impatience by rubbing gentle circles onto the valley where my legs meet lace.

My body is aching for release despite the boys not having done anything yet, the slight suction of his mouth threatening to push me over the edge. Long digits glide over my thighs, hooking themselves into the edge of my panties. He slightly tugs, mocking me as I whine. Kenny holds onto my hands to keep them restrained, Craig’s other hand keeping my hips from bucking even further.

“Holy shit!” Various voices sound out from the door that gets slammed open and I instinctively yell at the sudden invasion of privacy in surprise.

The room gets flooded with light from the hallway, my arms automatically crossing themselves over my torso. Craig throws his body over mine to cover it from the boy’s unsuspecting eyes, Kenny quickly grabbing his shirt and throwing it over my exposed form.

There’s a cacophony of sounds, disbelief and surprise heavily coating everyone’s words.

“No fucking way, dude.”

”Ack! This is bad, this is really bad!”

“Oh no…” It seems that after everyone got over the initial surprise of the rather indecent sight in front of them, all eyes begin to nervously watch the shaking body of my brother.

Loud laughter sounds harsh at the current situation, the voice amused at the turn of events and the dramatic reveal. “You guys are so gonna get it.” I look to the source to see Cartman rapidly snacking on a bowl of chips as if it were movie theater popcorn.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Stan is flushed red in seething anger, his feet thundering forward before his arm reaches out to harshly grab at Craig’s shoulder to land a hard punch at his face.

I scream in shock, Kyle rushing out to hold his furious form back as Butters quickly stumbles after him to provide some much needed additional support. I’ve never seen my brother this angry before as he viciously struggles to get himself free from the arms keeping him back.

“THAT’S MY FUCKING SISTER! ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW?! I’VE TOLD ALL OF YOU PIECES OF SHITS FROM DAY FUCKING ONE THAT SHE’S OFF LIMITS, YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!” He harshly thrashes against the others, vehemently spewing out words as if they were acid in quick succession. When he stops to savagely heave in breaths of oxygen, the air in the room is so dangerously still and thick with a tension so heavy.

“Stan-“ I try to do damage control, my voice cracking at the pure, unadulterated hostility being displayed in front of me.

“You stay the FUCK out of this, N/N.” He growls out, immediately silencing whatever words were about to come out of my mouth.

Cartman doesn’t find even a drop of amusement in the situation anymore, wincing as he realizes the gravity of what was happening. The larger teen starts to feel as nervous as everyone in the room as they watch the elder Marsh’s blind rage.

“You guys are my fucking friends. I can’t believe you’d fucking do this to me. I trust you, all of you. You can get any girl or guy you want in this shitty ass town and you do this to me? Are you fucking kidding me..?” He loudly laughs into the tense room but it’s devoid of any happiness—it’s bitter with the betrayal he feels. Everyone flinches at the sharp sound, seeming to curl in on themselves as to not draw further attention from the fuming teen.

“My baby sister..? Really? Fuck. The one thing I ask and you guys fucking ignore it.” His head drops low in defeat, as if all the fight has abruptly left his body. He tiredly rakes a hand through his bleached hair before letting it fall limp at his side.

It’s quiet for a moment, the silence so deafening that the fear to break it is high. Everyone carefully watches the elder Marsh in caution, like he’s a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any moment now. Kenny tightens his arms around my waist and I worriedly glance at Craig, his hand nursing his tender jaw.

His voice is low when he continues, his fists clenched at his sides and shaking in unbridled rage. “She’s fucking drunk, you assholes…”

The three of us shoot our heads up in panic, our eyes wide at the assumption that Kenny and Craig would take advantage of my vulnerable form when I’m intoxicated. I finally snap out of this paralyzing fear and break free of the hold the blonde has on me as I grab onto the material of the jacket at my brother's sides.

“No! Stan… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was planning to, I swear! I’ve just been so fucking scared…” My form begins to shake as I desperately will my brother to listen to me, his head lifting up at my begging to meet my eyes. His eyebrows furrow at my words and I force myself to just spit it the fuck out already.

A wobbly smile forces its way onto my face as I try to soothe the hurt teen, a thin film of tears forming over my eyes and threatening to break free at any moment. It absolutely pains me to see my brother like this, and to know that I was the cause of it makes it feel all the worst.

We’ve always been there for each other, even before we were fucking born. There was no such thing as secrets between us and here I am, hiding a big part of my life from my own fucking twin. The one who protects me like his life depends on it, the one who’d go through hell all by himself if it meant a smile on my face.

My other half, I remind myself in shame.

My confession comes out in a whisper, my voice cracking from the absolute fear and nervousness coiling itself in the depths of my stomach. Not from the admission of my next words, but at the betrayal my own brother is feeling right now, because of me.

“I love them, Stan. And they love me, too.”

My eyes flicker between his when he just stares at me, his lips slightly parted and his face blank. He’s devoid of any emotion, his eyes dark and hollow and I feel terrified. My chest starts to rapidly heave up and down as I struggle to take a fucking breath, the influx of high emotions I’m experiencing right now making me feel nauseous. I desperately seek Kyle’s eyes in panic and when my brother follows my line of sight to the curly haired teen, he seemingly comes back to life again.

“Kyle, you fucking knew?” He grits out through clenched teeth, his jaw tense as he stares at his best friend.

When he furrows his brows and clenches his eyes shut, Stan scoffs before any words can come out. He shakes his head as he rips his arms from the others, walking out of the bedroom.

A sob rips out of my throat seeing his vacating body, my whole world feels like it’s ending as my other half leaves me behind. My arm extends out in front of my shaking form, as if I can catch him and stop him from abandoning me. I wobbly take a few steps forward as I try to follow after him, but I don’t make it too far before my vision becomes too blurred from tears.

Not me, Stan. Please.

Please, I promise I won’t do it again!

I’ll be the best little sister ever if you don’t leave me, okay?

Please…?

… I’m sorry.

Someone tries to shush me, several arms coming around me in an attempt to console me. It’s then that I realize that I’ve been recklessly babbling through the tears running down my face, desperation making my throat feel raw.

“Stan!“

song: [say it ain't so - weezer]

a/n: the song crimson dawn plays is about alcoholism and i slightly altered a small part of the lyrics to reflect stan and his dad's alcohol abuse. i absolutely love this song so if you have the chance, i encourage you to listen to it :)

#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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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years ago

Video

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ASHLEY O - ON A ROLL

[5.00]

It's Amnesty 2019! In which our writers choose singles from the year that we didn't get to. And what better way to get the ball rolling than with a song that's got something to say about pop music...

Joshua Lu: In the final episode of season five of Black Mirror, Miley Cyrus plays pop star Ashley O, whose desire to escape her contract leads her aunt to put her under a coma, which leads to two of her fans saving her, which leads to her performing "Head Like a Hole" at a night club, happy now that she's freed from the literal and metaphorical restraints that came with being a pop star. Undergirding the episode is "On a Roll," a remake of that same Nine Inch Nails song but made so overtly benign and bubbly that it becomes as unnerving as the original. Most of these unnerving aspects are probably intentional: the ambiguity behind lines like "'Cause I'm going down in history" or "I'm gonna get what I deserve," the distorted moans and cries buried in the instrumental, or the way the bass drops off at the start of the chorus, leaving Ashley O screaming motivational platitudes over an unfeeling beat. But there are so many parts that are equally unsettling yet don't come across as intentional -- were they really expecting us to hear "hey yeah whoa-oh" and not "hey I'm a hole," or is this mixup supposed to act as commentary on, say, perverse undertones in popular music? (The fact that the original song has "hole" in the same spot makes this mondegreen all the more suspect.) Are the dozen or so seconds of dead air at the end of the song just a consequence of a lazy audio engineer, or was this silence deliberately included to let the song's termination settle uncomfortably into nothingness? It's these parts of "On a Roll" that make it so fascinating -- not the rockist message of its origin, and especially not the corny, ham-fisted cracking screen in the music video -- so much so that even after streaming it for months, I can't tell how much of this song I'm supposed to enjoy, and how much I'm supposed to fear. [8]

Vikram Joseph: Like "Rachel, Jack and Ashley Too", the Black Mirror episode which birthed it, "On A Roll" serves as both escapist fun and a pointed facsimile of meticulously-constructed big-studio pop. Brooker and Reznor's four-part construction is unexpectedly good -- a cheerleader-chant of a chorus (surely intentionally written to, in turn, be wilfully misheard as "hey, I'm a hoe!" by gay twitter) sandwiched between big, melodic, reverberating synths in the pre- and post-chorus sections. Squeezing "achieving my goals!" into a pop chorus is worth an extra point, and also works as a sly joke about influencer culture's obsession with productivity. [7]

Alfred Soto: Imagine shouting "achieving my goals!" with less enthusiasm than an assistant vice president of human resources at a two-day retreat. At least "California Gurls" put the self-help gumption behind solid beats. [1]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: "On a Roll" was designed to be a hollow shell of a prototypical pop song grounding a Black Mirror episode satirising toxic music stan culture. And yet, contrary to the episode's whole point, the Gays™ have still found a way to make it the object of stan culture anyways! Frankly, I can see why: it's low-key a bop, the kind that burrows under your skin and slowly takes over your body until you're singing it all the time. I can't help but like it even though I know I'm not supposed to. Do we really have free will? [6]

Kayla Beardslee: Yas queen, I'm literally gagging. We love a thinly produced bop! New main pop girl Ashley O has done it again, constantly raising the bar for all of us who want to make basic pop that serves looks? eh vocals? I guess its story without ever impressing outside of its narrative context. We stan. Keep her in that coma so she can churn out more average, serviceable music for AO2! [5]

Natasha Genet Avery: Ashley O's Gaga impression had me in the first half, I'm not gonna lie. But Gaga would never waste a verse and bridge this good on that laughably staid three-note chorus. [5]

Nortey Dowuona: A fizzing, swaddled bass synth lopes around the black hole of drums that sucks down every other musical instrument, burying a thinning synth key patch pushing up and sinking while Miley scrapes it off the bottom of the ice cream pail. [3]

Tobi Tella: In the same vein as A Star Is Born, turns out executives trying to make empty, vapid pop music actually ends up slapping. It's a perfect pop parody, with a million meaningless hooks; the drawn out "oh honeyyy," the pre-chorus that has nothing to do with anything, and, of course, the chorus, which hits the cheesy pop vibe perfectly. Not to mention the fact that it's an interpolation of a hard metal song, everything about this is nonsensical yet amazing, and it's honestly probably better than anything Miley Cyrus has put out this year. [7]

Jackie Powell: Ashley O might have just performed my "I can beat burnout" theme song. While this track was released in mid-June, it's exactly what is needed to deal with the darker days of December. It's almost as if I'm visualizing that Rachel Bloom on a stage somewhere singing about burnout, but I'm not actually hearing a musical theater melody. It's one hundred percent pop. It's also sexier while still cheering me on. How's that for an anti-burnout fight song? It's also ironic that "Head Like a Hole" is lyrically so dystopian while "On a Roll" sonically and visually -- with its simple synths responsible for the track's chord progression and a purple wig and white bodysuit -- projects more of a utopian vibe. But as a song featured in Black Mirror, the choice to pay tribute to "Head Like A Hole" was more deliberate than not. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: As long as Nine Inch Nails have existed and yarled, people have observed, often intending to blow your minds, that they might Actually Be Pop. There were the band's early appearances on questionable proto-TRLs. There was that Sound on Sound interview about how Dave Ogilvie mixed "Call Me Maybe" like a NIN song, resulting in this (featuring, in the comments, one "DigitalPimp" marveling at how it sounded like something out of a Black Mirror episode, four years before "Rachel, Jack, and Ashley Too"). There was the weird spate of offhand references in media about and/or marketed to young, non-generally-industrial-listening girls, from Clarissa from Clarissa Explains It All to Cassie from Animorphs to the babies in A Visit From the Goon Squad who are sold future!NIN's hit "Ga Ga." There are the many real-life "Ga Ga"s, like this, this, or this by Devo, or this seasonally appropriate medley. And there is, of course, this deeply strange year 2019, in which Trent Reznor earned his first No. 1 hit with one "Old Town Road," and in which there was this. I'm not a Trent purist -- I'm too much of a Tori Amos fan for that -- but "On a Roll" misunderstands the medium. The track, at least, is done by actual pop producers, The Invisible Men, and thus sounds plausible, though it can't decide whether it wants to be "California Gurls" or Weeknd-produced-by-Max-Martin smooveness or whatever the hell that half-time prechorus or Can't Take Me Home faux-soul backing vocal are. But the lyrics are by Charlie Brooker, and though he nails the inane in-universe promotional bullshit, he doesn't understand songwriting. "Bow down before the one you serve" is a more plausible pop lyric than "I'm stoked on ambition and verve." One shamelessly plunders greed and S&M and melodrama and does so the way actual people talk. One is a thesis statement rather than a lyric, doesn't scan, and is finished by rhymezone.com-ing vocabulary that for the life of me, I cannot remember if any pop lyrics have used. It's not even a timely thesis; in cynical 2019, post-Madonna, post-Gaga, post-Eilish, hell, post-"7 Rings," a pop star is less likely to put out "Everything Is Awesome" jingle music than just cover "Head like a Hole." And indeed, "On a Roll" exists so Black Mirror can get a cathartic moment out of Ashley O singing the actual "Head Like a Hole," which sounds great, because by comparison what wouldn't? Trent says he's OK with it, but then we know his stance on what he'd do for money. [2]

Iain Mew: I was at the lower context end of the scale for my initial listens to "On a Roll." I haven't watched the Black Mirror episode; I was vaguely aware of a Nine Inch Nails link but not its form; I don't know "Head Like a Hole." In that context "On a Roll" sounded like an intermittently functioning pop song with some unusually scanning lyrics that ranged from awkward to witty to both. Listening to the Nine Inch Nails song afterwards brought it together in a different way, but "On a Roll" stood up without that at least as well as most of the high concept early-'00s mashups that it's the conceptual successor to. [6]

Katie Gill: Does this work more if you're canon-familiar? Because I get the joke: ha ha, we're going to turn Nine Inch Nails into a pop song as some sort of commentary for Charlie Brooker's Ham-Fisted Social Commentary Hour! But I've only watched one or two Black Mirror episodes, so I can't help but feel that I'm missing something here. Because if the joke is that this complete antithesis of a pop song is now turned into a pop song, I don't think it works. The lyrics are sheer beautiful banality, a 2010s take on the same joke Music and Lyrics made over ten years ago. But the pop instrumentation & reworking doesn't hide the fact that "Head Like a Hole" is not fundamentally built like a pop song. It's like going into a guest bedroom that was obviously once a storage attic with low ceilings and poor insulation: put on a new coat of paint and the bones still show through. Maybe I have to watch the episode in order to fully appreciate the joke. But then again, great examples of musical parody & homage stand wonderfully on their own without context. Why doesn't this? [5]

Alex Clifton: As a parody of manufactured pop, this is pretty good; unsurprisingly, I'm reminded of Hannah Montana's "Nobody's Perfect" with its aggressive positivity ("riding so high! achieving my goals!"). But I'm seen people refer to this as an "accidental banger" and that's overrating the song. It's serviceable, it's catchy enough to be in the background at a party, but if you're going to go for manufactured pop, go hard or go home. This just doesn't commit itself enough to the genre to meet my expectations. [4]

Will Adams: I've spent the better part of the decade railing against PC Music's uncanny valley pop and its purported inability to make satisfying commentary on pop music. Allow "On a Roll" to serve as my mea culpa. Clickable premise of Miley Cyrus covering Nine Inch Nails for a Black Mirror episode aside, "On a Roll" feels pointless. Especially when a pop version of "Head Like a Hole" already exists, deliberately cynical pop by mainstream artists already exists, and your chorus hinges on a line as fatally clunky as "I'm stoked on ambition and verve." [3]

David Moore: A few months ago I was doing my weekly Spotify trawl and came across what sounded like a long-delayed aftershock of self-titled-era Taylor Swift. I was amused to see that this artist was Taylor Acorn, suggesting an elaborate algorithm designed to generate successive Taylor Swift clones named according to a variation on the NATO alphabet: Taylor Acorn, Taylor Bravo, Taylor Charlie. And this in turn gave me an idea for a television pilot with this exact premise, which I wrote ten to twenty minutes worth of before it fell flat. The problem, as it usually is with these sorts of things, is that the music needs to be good, and it can't just conjure its goodness from the perspicacity of its commentary. And of course most bizzer behind-the-curtain shows fail even at this basic commentary level -- the easiest part! -- and are doomed to be not only bad both in show and in soundtrack, but a little insulting, too. So it's a pleasure, if a mild one, to hear those exhausting try-hards over at Black Mirror let a decent pop song just kind of sit there. I didn't see the episode, but from what I can tell Miley Cyrus is supposed to be a bit of a cipher, which of course she isn't at all -- and funnily enough it makes this song do almost the opposite of what it's supposed to; it acts instead as a kind of metacommentary on how hard it is to make Miley Cyrus sound cool and competent. What, Taylor Acorn wasn't available? [6]

Michael Hong: It's nice to see Hannah Montana aim for something that fits directly into the image of the pop machine. "On the Roll" lodges itself firmly in your head while attempting to stimulate your pleasure receptors, rather than forcing all its energy to generate the cycle's "new authentic me," which ends up barely being a reinvention but more of an embarrassing reminder that Miley Cyrus is once again, back at it. Next time maybe she can aim for something good. [2]

Kylo Nocom: As satire? Boring, but not unexpectedly so! A good rule of thumb is that blanket parodies of pop music are never smart and rarely funny. Just last year A Star Is Born and Vox Lux soundtracked rockist paranoia with gratingly obvious piss-takes: "Why Did You Do That?" had a title that doubled as a lament for Ally's career; "Hologram (Smoke and Mirrors)" drove accusations of artifice that seemed directed equally at an imagined lover and Celeste herself. "On a Roll" suffers the same issues through less obvious signaling, being the commodification of an anti-establishment song, yet even here the writers can't resist an ironic nod. An uncomfortably extended silence following the last "I'm gonna get what I deserve" leaves room for interpretation: is this about Ashley exiting the pop machine as a break into authentic living, or about her suffering as retribution for being part of the pop machine? Who knows! The song is otherwise fantastic, and it being fantastic fucking sucks. Interpolating Nine Inch Nails wholesale puts Miley in her most enjoyable mode: anthemic rock-adjacent joy, some of the best she's done since her Hollywood Records era. Even if Black Mirror's idea of future pop is suspiciously like 2017, with tropical percussion breaks from "New Rules" and the pulses from "Sorry Not Sorry," the arrangement of "On a Roll" suggests actual, realized verve. The charm of the song concerns; in the context of the show itself it's the result of exploitation, and outside its context it's packaged with tacky viral marketing bullshit. But I can't resist. [9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I was prepared to give this some begrudgingly high score based on the weird, feverish week in the early summer where I listened to this on loop. But on the return visit, the appeal of "On a Roll" fades away with its novelty. All that remains is the general structure of "Head Like A Hole," which ties that undeniable melody to a much more compelling creep of a beat, and a slightly-above-average vocal performance from Miley. With every year of this nostalgia-focused decade I have grown wearier and wearier of this sort of reincarnation pop, yesterday's pleasures repackaged winkingly for an audience that sees the artlessness, the lack of aura, as the point. There's no way to listen to this sincerely, and I'm no longer amused by irony's mirror. [3]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Ashley O #Miley Cyrus #Black Mirror #pop #music #music review #Amnesty Week

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