#lalawrites

[angelicyouth]

Proscenium

⇢ pairing(s): multiple x newkid!reader

⇢ genre: identity reveal ; the stick of truth + the fractured but whole AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞

⇢ warning: recreational drug use

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist]

⇢ note: this picks up years after the two video games that this AU takes place in (the flashbacks in this story are canon to the games) but can be read with no prior knowledge of them! :)

At thirteen years old, hormones slowly crept up into one’s life until puberty suddenly hit everyone all at once and all too fast. It was in the 8th grade that everyone came back from summer vacation different—what was once baby fat and ambiguous soft edges turned into more defined features and deeper voices. The appearance of girls altered in a way that could only be described as more developed, filling out in areas that they just didn’t used to.

Mr. Garrison decided that with this fresh transition into the beginning of their teenage years, that it would be a swell idea to teach his students about the notion of responsibility and of all the things that encompass it. This led to everyone sitting on the well-worn yet soft material of the fabric that adorns the chairs in the theater belonging to the town’s local middle school.

“Class, settle down now. I want all of you to know that before we begin, each and every one of you are talented. It may not be catered for the skills needed to succeed in theater, like singing or dancing. But don’t be ashamed of trying your best because I’ll find a job for every single one of you. Costume design, stagehand, the set—they’re just as important as the actors, you hear me?” The older man says in reassurance at his heightened stance on the wooden stage, looking at the sea of students that had varying degrees of uncertainty and excitement on their faces.

With these tentative first steps into their young adulthood, everyone was feeling lingering traces of insecurity and confusion. It was the start of the years where the children of South Park were trying to explore themselves as individuals—trying to find out who they are and where they truly belonged. 

As such, it was also the time where they often felt too ‘cool’ to try hard in order to fit in with the rest of their peers. Everyone just wanted to belong, to not be labeled as an outcast. This was driven by certain people being naturally blessed by mother nature, their hormones making them conventionally attractive whereas some were struggling with artificial things for societal standards such as the condition of their skin or the metal bulk of their braces. 

It was the awkward stage of life where people were more self conscious, more self aware of how they looked and how they spoke—who they hung out with and what their interests were. This was the beginning of when people started paying closer attention to their sexuality, to the genders of the members that each person found themselves attracted to. 

It was also the beginning of when the boys started paying closer attention to Y/N L/N.

See, you had always hung out with the boys, often forgoing the likes of Wendy Testaburger or Bebe Stevens. Not because you didn’t like the group of girls in class (because they were still your dear friends, never forgetting to extend a personal invite to you for lunch on the weekends or to trips to the mall), but more so because the guys had claimed you first. They’re all you’ve ever known since the fourth grade—from when you were still the new kid to now, they’ve always been a constant presence both during school and after. 

You were there when the boys decided to dedicate their free time to live action role-playing games, like superheroes or fantasy. During the nights that were spent finding scrap fabric to put together and painting props for when they donned their multicolored costumes and created super aliases. Or when the Kingdom of Kupa Keep was at war with The Elves for the wooden relic that once possessed the control of the whole entire universe.

The thing was, living in a mountain town like South Park meant that people typically adorned multiple, thick layers of material to help insulate themselves against the freezing temperatures. You, of course, weren’t an exception to the weather as you didn’t grow up here like the rest of your friends, which meant that you always kept either your hood up or wore a hat to keep yourself warm.

Granted, you didn’t find out until later on that your parents were actively trying to hide your identity from the government, but this inadvertently assisted in everyone misgendering you. It also didn’t help that you were silent in nature and therefore never bothered to correct anyone, but on the other hand, this earned you the fond nickname of ‘Douchebag’ and the boys never quite realizing that you were not a boy, but a girl.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You were late for the first day of the school year, rushing to rip off all of the paper tags attached to the new clothing your mother bought for you when she realized how quickly you outgrew your wardrobe during the summer. Unsteadily hopping around on one foot with a toothbrush wedged into your mouth, you finally got a leg through the soft material of the skirt that you were going to wear for the day. 

Discreetly trying to open the heavy double doors leading to the school’s auditorium proves to be futile as everyone casts their bored eyes towards the disturbance at the back of the room. Keeping your head lowered in an attempt to stay hidden, your legs rush to bring your body to where your group of friends were sitting.

“Uh, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Cartman arrogantly calls out when your body lands onto an unoccupied seat near him, your eyes rolling as you lay your backpack on the floor beside your feet.

“Aye! I’m fucking talking to you!” The larger teen yells in indignation when you continue to ignore him, his face heating up in anger when the guys begin to snicker behind their hands.

Heaving his body up, Cartman leans closer to you to roughly yank the hood off of your head to identify the current bane of his existence. This, however, leads him to be swept in confusion as the rest of the guys similarly halt their vocal amusement. “Who the fuck..?”

“Y/N—are you here? You’re up next to audition.” Garrison calls out, the boys quickly whipping their heads when they see you haul your form up to begin your ascent to the stage.

“What the fuck are you doing?! N/N’s not some lame pussy bitch!”

A tired sigh resounds from the older teacher’s mouth because it was way too early to be dealing with this shit. “Eric, Y/N has been a girl for the past four years that she’s been living in South Park. Nothing has changed except for your attention to details.”

“Wh—no he isn’t!” He sputters.

The guys stare at you in varying levels of disbelief and confusion, watching as you tuck visibly soft strands of hair behind your ear while Mr. Garrison passes you a script. Not only are you wearing a damn skirt (which the boys greedily eye as they showcase your long and smooth legs), but your jacket is unzipped for the first time that they’ve met you (in your haste to get ready, your scrambled brain forgot to properly zip it all the way up).

Due to this, they could see the way that the fabric of your top hugs your developing curves in all of the right places—cinching the delicate slopes of your waist and allowing them to see the growing but still notable bust that your outerwear has never revealed. It is then that their admittedly slow brains catches them up on the long lashes that gently kisses the red skin of your still cold cheeks everytime that you blink and how under the fluorescents of the stage lights, the pretty pink of your plump lips are further accentuated to slicked perfection.

“... Douchebag..?” Butters hesitatingly calls out, his voice meek in the sudden revelation of information on their long-time friend.

Busy reading the ink running along the script within your hands, the boys become shocked to muteness when your head lifts up in attention to the sound of your nickname. Your head tilts to the side in question when no one speaks, your disinterested eyes patiently waiting for the verbal reason that they called you. 

“No fucking way.” They all seem to chorus because…

… When in the hell did the notoriously mute member of their group become so hot?

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“I call dibs!” Clyde yells out as soon as the boys step just one foot onto the cold linoleum that covers the hallway’s floors when the last class before the lunch period is dismissed.

“Wh—you can’t fucking do that!” Kenny indignantly cries out, the blonde angrily pushing his parka’s hood back so that he can properly argue. 

“Yeah, I can! Wanna know why?” The brunette smugly continues, his arms crossed in self satisfaction for speaking up first as all the guys glare at him.

“Well, I’m super handsome and insanely funny! I play sports so my hot bod is just as amazing as my smile and I’m clearly so generous and kind and nice since I’m giving you assholes multiple reasons instead of one!” He childishly finishes off, a cheeky grin stretching wide on his face even as Kenny grabs him by the collars of his letterman jacket to roughly slam him against the metal surface of the nearest locker.

“What?!” The blonde screams into his face in frustration.

“That’s fucking lame, dude. If you think N/N is going to settle for some shallow, narcissistic asshole then there’s no point of claiming her first.” Stan angrily spits out, the skin in between his eyebrows furrowed and his fingers fidgeting with the spark wheel of his lighter as he lazily leans beside where Clyde and Kenny are trying to throttle each other.

“Says the self proclaimed rizzler who gets an upset twummy wummy when a cute girl so much as looks in your direction, barf breath.” Kenny mocks in a baby voice, the blonde halting in his attempted murder as his brunette victim begins to obnoxiously laugh at his quip.

“Oh gee fellas… Well if it’s first come first serve, then I guess I’ll be getting this one. See ya!” Butters quickly tries to walk away from the group before Craig grabs him by the neckline of his sweater, effectively choking the blonde until he stops.

“And how the hell does that make any sense?” The taller ravenette asks, an eyebrow condescendingly quirked up and his fist unwillingly to let go lest the blonde tries to pull a fast one again.

“Wuh—well because! I’m the first person that met her, don’tcha fellers remember? I was the one to bring her to Kupa Keep when she first moved in so I’m her oldest and dearest buddy!” Everyone stops walking as they display unamused looks on their faces at the explanation, causing the captured teen to nervously rub his knuckles together at their joined silence. 

Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yeah—by like, 5 minutes! And I don’t think you should be proud of that encounter because you were getting your ass handed to you when she met you.”

“And what’s wrong with that? N/N is strong and fearless and kind—why, she’s simply a bajillion times more noble for rescuing me when she didn’t even know me! That’s more than you fellas with your constant teasing, and you’ve all known me since we were babies!” The blonde pouts as he soothingly rubs the front of his now tender neck when Craig finally lets go.

Cartman deeply sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth the crease in between his eyebrows. “Just shut the fuck up, Butters. Y/N’s not here for you to suck her apparently non-existent dick, you fucking kiss ass.”

“You guys are acting like a bunch of stupid virgins.” Craig is expressionless as they reach the back of the school where the loading bay is, the chullo-wearing teen leaning against the wall as he leisurely watches Kenny plop down on the asphalt and pull a bong out of his backpack.

“Says you! Why do you even care?! I thought you liked it up the ass, you goddamn cocksucker!” Cartman is quick to yell, shoving both his hands in his jacket’s pockets to generate more warmth against the freezing Colorado air.

“Nyah! We like girls, t-too!” Tweek says, glancing at his ex-boyfriend as the ravenette flashes a vulgar middle finger that he annoyingly sticks into the larger teen's irritated face.

“Now that’s just fucking greedy.” The brunette scoffs, roughly pushing Craig’s arm away as the ravenette savagely snickers.

“That’s rich coming from the selfish fatass who can eat three times his weight in one sitting. Wouldn’t want N/N to suffocate on a date with you when you can’t see her over your huge fucking double chin and accidentally sit on her.” Kyle snarks as he rolls his eyes while Stan wheezes and mimics having a makeshift double chin by angling his head as low as it can against his collarbones to make the skin bulge.

Cartman loudly retorts as he roughly pushes away the ravenette’s laughing face, “It’s funny you say that when you have a fat bitch mom yourself, Kahl! Tell me: did she keep pushing even when you were already out of her gaping pussy because she couldn’t see you over her saggy fucking tits?!”

“All of you are greedy assholes! You guys can’t be good bros just this once and let me have this one?” Clyde pouts, the brunette sliding his back down against the wall until he’s seated on top of the gritty surface of his skateboard.

“No.” Everyone simultaneously deadpans.

“Blah blah blah—okay, now who wants to say grace before I light this baby up?” Kenny smirks up at the guys as he packs a bowl, Stan snorting a laugh as he pushes the blonde on the arm when he hands him his lighter.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter who calls dibs when it’s Y/N who gets to decide who she wants to be with. You can’t force her into anything just because we’ve found out that she’s been a girl this whole entire time. She’s not an object for us to claim.” Kyle resolutely states when it doesn’t seem like a decision will be (peacefully) made, causing the redhead to resort to logic and sense.

“He’s got a point.” Tolkien mutters, the only one not fighting over you as he texts his long-time girlfriend Nichole Daniels.

“Oh, shut the hell up with your unicorns and rainbows pussy talk, you stupid fucking Jew! You’re only saying that sappy shit because you know that she won’t pick you even if you did get dibs!” Cartman retorts before dramatically pinching his nose when Kenny rips the bong and obnoxiously exhales the smoke into the brunette’s face.

“Aw, sick! Your low quality shit stinks!”

“Mmm, I think that’s just your upper lip that you’re smelling, fat boy. You do know that if you’re not properly dusting the crumbs off of your greasy mouth after every meal, the food will eventually go bad and rot.” The blonde lazily grins as he hands Craig the bong.

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’d be best to just give her to me. Isn’t it less embarrassing for you guys if Y/N chooses me because I have dibs as opposed to her rejecting all of you, only to still like me because you’re all just ugly and boring?” Clyde pouts up at the guys, his body swaying from side to side as he rolls his skateboard in one place.

“Sorry Donovan—but I’m not letting a fine piece of ass like Y/N go without a fight, even if I have to fight a bro for her.” Kenny says as he leisurely watches Stan cough after taking a fat rip from the smoking device.

“Didn’t think you were the type to work for it, McWhoredick. With all the easy people you usually go for on the daily, I don’t think it’d be cool for you to just hit it and quit it like you usually do.” Craig straightens up from his previously laid back slouch against the wall, his clenched jaw slightly lifting up as he looks down at Kenny from his heightened stance.

The blonde takes that as a challenge as he stands up from the floor, his hands quick to shoot out and roughly shove at the ravenette. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? Fuck you. I wouldn’t do that shit to Y/N.” 

A hand grabs the material of Kenny’s parka at his elbow to stop the altercation from escalating even further, Tweek’s other hand tightly clutching onto the buttons of his top in anxiety. “I-I don’t know, dude… She’s our best friend, you know? That’d be really fucked up.” 

Kenny rips his arm away from the other blonde and eyes every single person in the group with no trace of his usual carefree stance. “Seriously? Well I think it’s fucked up that you guys suddenly have feelings for her just because it’s been revealed that she’s actually a girl.” 

And when no one says anything, the blonde scoffs. “I’ve always flirted with her since we were kids. Sure, I might have covered it up by passing it off as a lighthearted joke so that she couldn’t outright reject me, but it doesn’t make whatever I said to her less true.”

Kenny continues, “And I may be a ‘whore’ but I’m not a messy bitch who’d carelessly do shit like that with someone in our own damn friend group, especially to someone who means so much to me like Y/N. But let it be known: I was always transparent with how I felt and how cute I thought she was even when I thought she was a boy.”

And he was right—your earliest memories of being new in South Park were, naturally, of meeting new people. And when you talked to Karen McCormick for the first time during a day of playing your group’s fantasy game, she had told you right off the bat:

“Oh, hey! You’re the new kid! My sister, the princess, texted me about you. She thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s… That isn’t true.” Stan hesitantly speaks up once the silence seemed to stretch on.

The area of skin between his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks away from the group to avoid looking at anyone's reaction to his words. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and his teeth lightly nips away at his bottom lip in notable distress.

Kyle is visibly surprised at this revelation, “…Stan?” 

The ravenette still doesn’t look over at his best friend or at anyone in the group, deeming the sight of the school’s janitor emptying out the trash a more interesting sight as he continues, “I uh—there was a time when I felt guilty. I thought I only liked girls but then I started seeing Y/N differently. It freaked me out because I was always into Wendy, y’know?” 

Stan nervously mumbles, “I don’t know when it happened or how, but it was like I suddenly started noticing everything she did. My eyes kept automatically looking for her: to see her reaction when someone said or did something—if I could catch a glimpse of her rare smile or hear her quiet laughter. Even if there was nothing to see, I just liked to know that she was there and that she was okay.” 

“No, I… I get it. Me too, actually.” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked when he finally looks over at Kyle, the redhead sporting a madly growing blush as his hand shyly rubs the back of his neck at his confession. 

“What?! Yeah, right! Quit dickriding by copying your little boyfriend just to make him jealous!” Cartman yells out in disbelief. 

“Shut the fuck up! It was…,” Kyle takes a moment to carefully think of the right term to eloquently express his feelings. “Confusing, right?”

He feels somewhat relieved and comforted when Stan silently nods in agreement, the gesture reassuring him and validating his experience as he feels more encouraged to speak up. “I didn’t know if the lines between platonic and romantic feelings were beginning to blur. I couldn’t tell if I was just mixing them up together or something but after some time, I figured that it didn’t matter because it was Y/N. And so, I was just satisfied as long as I had her by my side, even if it was as a friend.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone thinks to themselves, the air somber with only the sounds of the janitor rolling away the trash can being heard as he walks back into the warmth of the school building. The double door loudly closes behind him, blocking out the noise of students inside talking as silence once again pervades the area.

“Well, all this talk about feelings and shit is amazing and not in the least bit boring but I’ve never been confused with how I felt since I already knew I swung both ways. I’m only doing something about it now because you fuckers are going to go for her and like hell am I just going to let that happen without trying.” Craig interrupts, his eyes lingering on Tweek to let him know that he wasn’t afraid to make his ex his rival in this endeavor either.

“Yeah, cause we all know she’s only going to settle for one of you poor bastards if her first choice isn’t pursuing her.” Clyde boasts, his chest proudly puffed out as he points one of his thumbs at his smiling visage to indicate that he was the aforementioned 'first choice'.

Craig snickers at his unbridled confidence as he shoves the brunette and leans over to snatch the glass bong out of Stan’s hands to take another hit. As he lights the bowl, Kenny pushes the taller teen’s face away to inhale the smoke instead.

Cartman scoffs as he snarks the group, “You guys are a bunch of fucking simps. Did your feelings make all of you lame-o pussies? Or did all of your periods somehow sync up today?” 

“Some friends we are—we never even noticed such a big thing about someone we claim to fucking like.” Stan bitterly laughs, forcing the guys to remember the small comments they ignorantly made to you when you were still kids:

Cartman: You know, you have kind of pretty hair for a boy. You better not be a hippie or something.

Jimmy: I thought feminine-looking guys went out of style in the 80’s, but the new kids pulling it off.

Clyde: You kind of have big raisins for a boy, New Kid.

Scott: I’ve never seen a boy with such soft skin, what’s your secret?

Butters: Hey, Butthole. Anyone tell you for a boy you’re kinda pretty?

Kenny: You kind of remind me of my sister—I have this weird urge to protect you.

Stan: You know, for a boy you’re kind of feminine New Kid.

Kyle: There’s nothing wrong with a boy being feminine, be true to yourself.

“How are you guys so sure that she even likes boys? You were wrong about her gender and you could be wrong about this too.” Wendy slyly says to the pondering group as she passes by, Bebe giggling at her companion’s words as the boys snap out of their reminiscing.

Before they walk away too far, the female blonde decides to further antagonize the guys as she sticks out a tongue at them. “Didn’t ya know? Wendy knew that Y/N was a girl since the day that she moved in and you stupid boys didn’t!”

Cartman’s mouth drops open as everyone watches the two walk away in disbelief, “That fucking bitch.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Sorry for keeping you from lunch, Douchebag! Ah, my bad. Can I still call you that or..?” Scott Malkinson says as he blushes in embarrassment (and for seeing the entirety of your newly revealed face up close for the first time), his hand going up to rub at the brown tufts of hair at the back of his head.

“I mean, no problem if you’re not comfortable with it or have always disliked it! You probably wouldn’t want to go by Buttlord and stuff anymore too…” He nervously mumbles to himself.

You just offer a small nod as your eyes soften around the edges, your hands busy with stapling the packet of papers holding the directions for your two-person research essay for your science class before handing it to him. There didn’t seem to be a point in pulling up your hood anymore (reminiscent of the way Kenny often did) when the boys finally figured out you were a girl.

Zipping open his backpack, you patiently watch as Scott tucks away the report’s instructions for safekeeping in a folder before he offers you a bashful smile. He softly knocks a fist into your arm, “Hey. I really am sorry for misgendering you this whole time. Girl or boy, you’ll always be my trusty sidekick. Right, superpal?”

“Woah there, Malkinson! You’re not tryna pull a fast one on our girl when we aren’t looking, are ya?” Your attention shifts at the sound of Clyde’s voice, an arm being thrown over your shoulders as he protectively pushes you against his body. “You sly dog, you!”

From your peripherals, you see the other guys walking to catch up to where you are as Stan locks an arm around your science partner's neck to put him into a headlock and roughly tousle his hair. You disinterestedly look away when Kenny comes up to you with a wide smile, the blonde reaching an arm out to dap you up in greeting as per usual.

However, instead of stepping back after your half hug, he pulls on your interlocked hands to take you out of Clyde’s clutches and keeps you against his chest. Kenny’s larger hands slowly settles themselves against the curves of your waist as he presses his smile against the column of your neck.

“Missed me, beautiful?” He says, his lips evoking a cacophony of goosebumps as they ever so slightly skim against the soft expanse of your skin after every word.

“Knock it off, bastard. She doesn’t need your rank breath and your dirty hands on her.” Craig angrily mutters out as he pulls you away, only for a pair of arms to sneak around your waist from behind before someone’s chin plants itself onto one of your shoulders.

Kenny scoffs, obnoxiously trying to put said hands onto the taller ravenette’s face. “Your poor people stereotypes don’t do anything to hurt me, Craigory baby!”

Your face is as expressionless as always as you turn to identify your newest captor, a pout on Butters’ face. “That’s not fair Ken, and you know it!”

“Hey, you assholes said it yourselves: I’m always like this. So I’m not quite sure what you’re accusing me of, Butters. Unless you’re projecting your own ulterior motives onto lil’ old me?” Kenny has a lazy smile on his attractive face as he crosses his arms behind his head.

You don’t get to lean your body into Butters’ hold for too long before you feel someone’s hand sneak into the crook of your arm, trying to pull you out of your surrounding warmth. When you see that it’s Tweek fidgeting by your side, you place a reassuring hand on his own as you assume that his anxieties are getting out of control and needed comfort.

“Ngh! Y-you all need to leave her alone!” He yells, swiftly turning over his hand so that he can interlock your fingers together.

“Don’t be nice to him, Douchebag! He’s just faking it so that you’ll feel bad! The whole ‘liking it up the ass’ thing? It was all a FUCKING ACT!” Cartman indignantly shouts as he tries to separate your hands from each other, the blonde barista trying his hardest to not let go.

“Fuck you, ack! It just d-didn’t work out between us!” Tweek defends himself as he tries to bite the brunette’s unrelenting hands off.

“I can see why! Neither one of you have pussies. As I said already: you’re a bunch of fake homos who did it for money and attention!” Cartman yells before he loudly yelps from the blonde’s teeth finally breaking through his skin.

“Sick, dude. You might want to get tested for HIV… Or rabies.” Kyle grimaces as he watches Tweek hurriedly spit into the nearest trash can.

“And don’t be an ignorant piece of shit, fatass. You can still be a girl and not have a vagina.” The redhead continues while crossing his arms. 

“Meh meh meh.” Cartman mocks in a high pitched voice to which Kyle just stares back unamused, “Shut the fuck up, god! You’re talking to someone who was fucking transginger before! Of course I fucking know that! And have some goddamn tact next time, asshole—I was going through a lot of shit so it was a dark time for me back then!”

"Wh—You brought up you being transgender yourself, dumbass!"

Tolkien tiredly sighs at everything going on before handing Tweek his hydro flask to gargle its contents, a frenzied mantra of oh god’s being repeated between mouthfuls of water. He soothingly pats the blonde on the back as the barista bends over, hysterically heaving in panic while Kenny watches and cackles in amusement.

“Yeah, Y/N. You have an unnatural allegiance to losers.” Stan side eyes the two as he finally lets go of Scott, the brunette yelling out hasty goodbyes in order to escape the apparent arguing and to fix his messed up hair.

“Which is exactly why she keeps you around, Stanley.” Craig is quick to snark while he roughly pulls Cartman away from trying to get even with Tweek.

“Not true!” He yells.

Craig stares blankly at the protesting ravenette, “Uh-huh… Staniel, tell me: what medications are you on again?” 

“For my depression? Uhh, Lexapro. I think. Why?”

“I think they need to switch you to the stronger shit or rediagnose you because right now, you’re being fucking delusional. We smoked the same shit just now so I know it’s not whatever strain Kenny has that’s fucking you up.” Craig dismisses, using his height to his advantage as he condescendingly pats Stan hard on the back of his neck and causes him to stumble.

“Oh fuck you—“

Kenny impatiently interrupts, the blonde pulling you away. “As much as I love me some fucking, let’s just go to lunch already! You guys can bitch all you want in the cafeteria—I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry though, poor ass.” Cartman mumbles as everyone starts to move.

“Fuck you, I’m stoned.”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The lunch room is as noisy as ever from where you stand, your disinterested eyes looking around while your arms get recklessly tugged back and forth. You don’t pay any mind to the curious stares of any passerby and those sitting near your standing position as you’ve already grown used to the unwarranted attention your friends always seem to attract from their antics.

“N/N is sitting with me!” Clyde yells out to which the brunette emphasizes with a pull on the arm of yours that he's tightly hugging to his chest.

“She sat next to you yesterday when we went out and got pizza for lunch, you greedy asshole!” Kenny argues back as he resolutely plants his feet against the cafeteria floor, not budging from where your hands are intertwined.

“Not fair—I haven’t sat next to my buddy all week when we've eaten.” Butters pouts from where he stands in front of you as his hands grab hold of your jacket and his fingers mindlessly fiddles with the zipper of it.

With one last tug, Kenny guides you over to the group's designated table before the other two can react and offers a solution. “Here: my princess can just sit on my lap so that the both of you crybabies can still sit next to her.” 

The blonde demonstrates by settling you over his thighs before he tightly locks his arms around your waist, sending a cheeky smile over your shoulder at the flabbergasted blonde and brunette still standing up. “There! Problem solved. Fuck, I’m a genius.” 

Kyle rolls his eyes as he takes your tray of food in his unoccupied hand and places it on the table between his own and Stan’s, causing Kenny to pout when you stand up to sit where your lunch is. Once sat, you watch as the ushanka-wearing teen opens up the plastic holding your utensils before he hands you your spork.

“Y/N.” You blankly turn your head away from your food to face Clyde.

The brunette leans over the table to wipe a smidge of sauce that was left on your face with his thumb, his finger lingering at the edge of your lips. “You got something on your pretty face.”

Your eyes dart towards his finger when he pulls away to show you the hint of food he wiped off before you lean forward to lick it off of his finger for him. Clyde’s grin stretches impossibly wide across his face at your welcomed action, both of his elbows planting themselves on top of the table that he was still laying his stomach over as he cups his cheeks with his hands and brings his legs up to delightedly kick them back and forth like a lovesick schoolgirl. 

“Fucking knock it off, Clyde!” The brunette yelps out of his daze when Craig grabs one of his swinging feet to roughly yank him off of the table.

“Dude.” Stan forlornly stares at his knocked over can of soda, the carbonated liquid thankfully spilling onto the floor and not on anyone’s clothes.

“You’re a fucking try-hard, you know that?!” Cartman yells as he fumbles to catch his opened pack of snacky cakes before they fall onto the dirty cafeteria floor from the other brunette’s actions.

Clyde is unable to verbally defend himself against the larger teen as he tries to hold his hand as close to his chest as possible while fending off Kenny with the other. While he gently cradles his appendage to his body, the blonde tries to get the prized finger to himself for a chance at an indirect kiss. 

“Talk about desperate. You beg for sex like you beg for food, McCormick.” Craig mumbles as everyone watches the fighting pair in a mixture of disgust and disappointment. 

“Wuh-what’s going on, fellas?” Jimmy asks as he takes a seat besides a stressed out Tolkien, the teen irritatedly rubbing his temples with his eyes closed to soothe the quickly growing headache he was developing. 

“Jimmy! Finally, someone sane. I’m going crazy—they keep fighting over Y/N.”

“Competition? F-f-for what? They say girls love someone funny and I’ve already made Y/N laugh the most in the past!” The brunette proudly boasts before Tolkien bemoans the loss of who he thought was his only ally.

It's only the first day of school, the wealthy teen thinks to himself in dread as he begins to wonder if he should start sitting with Timmy instead.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Taking a sip of your chilled juice makes you slightly shiver, causing Stan to notice from his close proximity to you. Dusting off his hands together to take away any remnants of crumbs leftover from his brownie, the ravenette reaches over to zip your jacket up after he deems his hands clean enough to not leave a stain.

From the next seat over, Craig notices the interaction and what caused it so he takes it upon himself to place his beloved chullo on the top of your head. He reaches across from the front of Stan’s chest and in result, roughly pushes him away (he almost falls ass first out of the bench he's sitting on) as he takes care to ensure that both of your ears are properly covered.

The taller teen simply smirks when the ravenette glares at him for one-upping him—Craig’s hat providing additional warmth and even displaying a mark of possession that simply zipping up your outerwear couldn’t provide for other students to see. Their silent but heated stare-off gets interrupted when someone uses the earflaps from Craig’s chullo to forcibly turn your head to another direction.

“Douchebag, come over to mine after school. My mom got me that new video game we were talking about last week and you’d be a stupid loser to not be one of the first people in town to play it.” Cartman demands after he lets go of the soft material to resume devouring his lunch.

“No can do, fatfuck. Y/N already promised to go to my house so that we can do homework together.” Kyle interrupts with a self-satisfied grin on his face that only serves to make the brunette loudly slam his hands on the surface of the table in anger.

“Ooo, group study session at Kyle’s house after school?” Butters perks up at his own suggestion, an innocent grin adorning his face as he looks at everyone at the table for confirmation. 

“Fuck you, I didn’t invite any of you bastards over except for her.”

“Ditch them, babe—Karen misses you! Why don’t you come over to my house instead so you can visit her?” Kenny jumps at the opportunity to speak up first after Kyle’s dismissal over Butters' self-invitation.

The boys see you visibly perk up as you straighten your back at the mention of the blonde’s younger sister, making Craig furrow his eyebrows together. “Fuck off. If there’s anyone that Y/N wants to see the most, it’s Stripe.”

Stan immediately scoffs as he pushes around his vegetables with his spork, the ravenette mumbling under his breath as his chin rests on his open palm. “I mean, at least he’s not using his own sibling as a cheap way to get her to visit. Not like I can do the same when I only have a bitch older sister at home.”

“Oh! How about a pet play date then! I can bring Rex!” Clyde excitedly contributes to Craig’s words, only for the ravenette to glare at him when they make eye contact.

"Wait, then I can bring Sparky—"

Kyle interrupts Stan before the conversation can escalate even further, “No! I already told my ma that Y/N is coming over so she’s making extra dinner.” 

“Then there’s enough food for all of us to come over tonight.” Cartman says around a mouthful of chicken with an air of finality.

“That’d add another 30 servings on just you alone. So no, fatass, there isn’t enough food for you in my house or even in the whole entire goddamn grocery store that can satisfy the endless void that’s your fucking stomach.” Kyle argues back as his face contorts in disgust at the brunette’s lack of decorum at the lunch table, his hands quickly shooting out to shield both his and your lunch from any spit or stray bits of food.

“Aye!”

You patiently wait for him to take his hand away from where it’s hovering protectively over your tray but as you do, you get distracted from their bickering when Butters holds out a spoonful of his fruit cup. “Here, little buddy! I know how much you like this combination.”

Your eyes soften around the edges in thanks as you lean forward to eat it directly out of his spork, the blonde’s hand kindly waiting for you to chew before he pulls the utensil away and continues to eat his snack. 

“Ack!” Tweek hurriedly fumbles to pour out a cup of still-warm coffee from his metal tumbler, his eyebrows furrowing in intense concentration as he tries to reign in his shaking hands to bring the portable cup up to your face for a sip without spilling.

Clyde watches in disbelief as you bring your body as close as you can from your seat at the table to drink the blonde’s offering, causing him to hurry with sticking a cheesy poof halfway into his mouth. “Here, N/N! Have some of this!”

Kyle’s eyes widen when he sees you starting to lean your face forward in the brunette’s direction, his hands shooting out to stop you from moving any further to give the brunette an opportunity for a kiss. “Y/N! No, goddammit!”

You blankly stare at the teen for interrupting before something moves in your peripherals, your eyes darting to the side to see Craig patiently holding out a chip towards you. As you turn your body towards his, he pulls it away from your face at the very last second.

“Sit next to me in class and I’ll give you a piece.” He smirks when you nod before taking a bite of the proffered snack out of his hand.

Kenny overhears and bitterly tsk’s to himself before placing a hand across the table with his palm facing up, his fingers wiggling as he also attempts to gain your favor through food. Your head cocks to the side at the action before you obediently place your hand on top of his, the blonde interlocking your fingers together as he brightly smiles at his success.

“Good girl.” He gently coos at you as he feeds you a piece of his cookie, his cerulean orbs watching you in endearment when you chew the dessert before he gives your linked appendages a soft squeeze. 

Once eaten, the blonde uses his now unoccupied hand to pet the top of your head to which Stan sneers at. “Quit it, dude. She’s not one of your pet rats for you to coddle.”

“And what about me?! You fuckers never share any food whenever I ask!” Cartman slams both of his hands down onto the surface of the table (again), causing all of its seated occupants to roll their eyes as they settle their rattling cans of soda and water bottles from tipping over.

“You’re spouting bullshit—I’ve offered you food before.” Craig disinterestedly says as he takes the rest of Kenny’s cookie to prevent him from feeding you again and shoves it all in his mouth in one go.

“Only when you’ve dropped it on purpose and told me to eat it from the fucking floor if I wanted it so badly, you bastard!”

The ravenette merely shrugs, not seeing a fault in his actions as he pushes away the raging blonde trying to punch him. “Same thing. Bitches can’t be choosers or however that saying goes.”

At his words, the edges of your lips unconsciously quirk up into a small smile. It’s like Hell freezes over as everyone stops whatever they’re doing to get a glimpse of a sight so rare to see from your usually blank face.

“Quick! Take a picture! Take a fucking picture!” Clyde yelps at Kenny's demand as his hands fumble in their haste to rip his cellphone out of his jacket’s pocket.

You wonder to yourself why you’ve maintained the façade of being a boy when the dangers of the government trying to find you stopped being a threat so long ago. Maybe, you’ve unconsciously been trying to continue the lie because the person everyone thought you were when you were the "male Y/N" was the one that your friends already found themselves loving and enjoyed being around.

And who would take such a risky chance at changing such a beautiful thing like the precious friendship that this dysfunctional group of boys brought you?

But with the way that everyone is acting after the initial nerve-racking reveal of your true identity from this morning, you find it silly that you ever thought for a second that you might have disappointed your friends with who you really were. Because right now, as you see everyone around the table watching you with eyes that look at you as if you held the whole entire universe in just the palm of your small hands, you let yourself know that there was nothing to ever worry about.

At this thought, your smile slowly widens until a full set of pearly white teeth makes their appearance and a beautiful hue of pink paints the apples of your cheeks. This seemingly knocks any incoming words from leaving the boy's mouths as they watch in stunned silence. 

You giggle over the din of chattering students in the cafeteria, causing the guys to lean even closer than before to hear the melodic sound of your rare laughter. “It’s beggars can’t be choosers, dumbfuck.”

a/n: ((i truly tried writing jimmy as a love interest because duh, it's not team craig without him!! but for the life of me, i cannot write him in fics & i really don't know why **sobs**))

[shewaslala-blog]

“I’m Fine”

Nothing to smile for, nothing to cry about,                  no stories,                  no one to tell to,                               nothing.

                                 -Lala

  *thoughts that are never going away*

[capitan-g]

Mahina ako sa Isang Mahinang ikaw

Parang isang babasagin napakarupok ko sa iyong mga mata at sa iyong mga ngiti na bilang lang sa daliri Marupok ako sa mga pasimpleng lambing na dumudurog sa malamig na puso Sa balikat mong sinasandalan, sa yakap at amoy ng iyong anit kahit maghapong pawisan, napakahina ko Natutuwa sa simpleng kwentuhan at kahit di mo pa subukan, dalang-dala ako sa agos mo Kahit wala ka pang gawin para ako’y suyuin nanlalambot ang Marupok na ako sa marupok na ikaw Marupok pati ang isip ko na laging lumalakbay papunta sayo, lumilipad sa kalawakan mo, ramdam ang grabidad na lalong humihila sa pusong tila nalalaglag na. Kaya ba? Kaya bang saluhin ng marupok na ikaw ang marupok na ako?

[lalawriter]

when you constantly feel lonely around a group of people....quickly distance yourself because  your peace comes first.

lalawriter

[lalalariz]

for ‘The Mon-date’ Poem

credits to the beautiful and gentle artist, Pauline Bactad :)

I admire your artworks, so I decided this will be posted here.

[oikawa-chans]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Characters: Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime Additional Tags: mermaid au, Drowning, Kissing Summary:

When you're underwater, your first instinct is to hold your breath. Your lungs know they can't get air, so your body forces you to swim; you scramble for the oxygen you desperately need, floundering underneath the waves. If you can't breathe, you'll drown. If you drown, you die.

At least, that's the way it's supposed to be.

In which Oikawa saves Iwaizumi many, many times.

[varlinhoe]

While he's still breathing, Chapter 5

Title: While he’s still breathing Rating: T Pairing: Kagami Taiga x Aomine Daiki Genre: Angst/Romance Summary: A car crash caused by Kagami leaves Aomine in a coma. While the redhead tries to cope with this burning feeling of guilt he slowly learns more about the other man whose life is now on the line. Note(s): Based on this prompt by kagamine-chiin. I hope I can live up to your expectations

Read on Ao3

A few days after the strange incident at the hospital, three to be exact, Taiga found himself sitting at the kitchen table, playing with his smartphone, while Tatsuya stood behind the stove, handling pots and pans to prepare breakfast. A comfortable silence has fallen upon them, a rare occurrence since the day Taiga had been released from the hospital, the mood somehow lighter, friendlier.

It was also the first day Taiga actually got out of bed before noon, feeling more refreshed than he had during the last two weeks, limbs not as sore, the cuts and bruises on his body slowly fading into pink and red scars and faint traces of green and blue. His night had been good. No nightmares, no dark hands gripping his ankles, pulling him into the dark void that had greeted him every night before this.

Getting in and out of his wheelchair was still a chore and painful to some degree, but it went much smoother, now that his ribs were healing pretty well and Taiga managed to take a shower alone when he got up, not needing the assistance of the other man anymore. It was progress.

The situation was still far from good.

While the physical damage caused by the crash slowly faded with each passing day, the turmoil inside Taiga was not as cooperative. There was still this heavy feeling of guilt, gnawing at the back of his subconscious, a low voice always present, always reminding him of the things that happened, that could never be undone.

But, as bad as Taiga felt about it since he had opened his eyes at the hospital, he noticed even this wound was starting to heal since the day Momoi had taken him to see Aomine. The woman had breezed into his life, not knowing him or his circumstances, not questioning anything. She was just there, picking up the pieces, with him. Of course, it wasn’t for him that she did it. It was for Aomine, her best friend since childhood days, but it nevertheless made him feel a little more at ease.

"Daydreaming?"

Taiga almost dropped his phone when he heard Tatsuya chuckle, placing a plate in front of him filled with heaps of scrambled eggs, bacon and crispy slices of toast.

"Uh… what?" Taiga looked at his brother, blinking away the thoughts running rampant in his mind. Shaking his head, Tatsuya just grinned.

"Nevermind," he said, sitting down on the opposite side of the small table with his own share of food.

It wasn’t until Tatsuya started eating, the grilled toast crunching between his teeth, when Taiga noticed the smell of his own plate wafting into his nose.

"Breakfast? Don’t you have to work today?"

"I do," Tatsuya nodded, looking at Taiga like a parent would at their sleepy elementary school kid, "but not until noon. So… I though since we’re both up at a reasonable hour, we could have a nice breakfast together. American style. Like we used to."

Taiga blinked, again, then a small smile spread across his lips, his thoughts swaying for a moment to sunny beaches, surfboards and streetcourts along the coast.

"Yeah, that’s a pretty good idea."

They ate in silence for a while, Taiga wolfing down his impossibly big share, which Tatsuya noticed with not a small amount of satisfaction. Getting Taiga to eat properly had been a quest in itself the last few weeks and seeing him getting back to his almost normal habits was a relief. Still, his appetite, still larger than that of any person Tatsuya had ever met, was not quite as big as it used to be. But it was a difference to three days ago and he was glad.

"You’re feeling better," Tatsuya said, putting down the silverware on his now empty plate, and it wasn’t really a question as it was a statement.

Taiga paused his eating and looked at the man he still called his brother, then he nodded.

"It’s…yeah, I," the redhead stumbled and Tatsuya grinned. Taiga had always been struggling when it came to talk about his feelings, so this was the most informative statement he would get. For now.

"Tatsuya… I’m… I’m sorry," Taiga suddenly mumbled, looking at the last piece of egg on his plate as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Tatsuya tilted his head in confusion.

"For what?"

Underneath the table, Taiga fidgeted with his hands. God, this was hard.

"For… for being an ass. I mean, I’ve been giving you a pretty hard time since you brought me here and… you didn’t deserve this. You only wanted to help me and make my life a little easier, even though I know how busy you are, so, yeah, I’m sorry." He slightly lifted his head, red eyes peeking through his too long fringe.

"Thank you Taiga," Tatsuya said with a soft smile, "I appreciate that. Still, you don’t need to feel sorry. To some degree I even understand why you behaved like an ass." Scratching his neck, Tatsuya looked at the other man. "And I will not hold that against you."

"That doesn’t justify me behaving like a piece of shit when you just tried to help me," Taiga almost shouted, hands balled into fists. "Just… there is so much shit going on right now and… ugh…" With a defeated look in his eyes, Taiga ran his hands trough his hair.

He didn’t even know why he felt like being on the verge of bursting, he just… did. And of course, Tatsuya, who had known him since elementary school, knew that his friend had a most unpredictable temper, not always making sense to the people around him, so Tatsuya just smiled and nodded.

"Okay then, apology accepted," he said, Taiga’s head snapped up, a grateful look on his tense features. "I-"

The ringing of the doorbell smothered anything more Tatsuya had to say and he got up with a roll of his eyes.

"I’m getting that," he said with a look back into the kitchen, "don’t know who this could be at this time of the day…" His footsteps faded into the small hallway and when Tatsuya opened the door, Taiga craned his neck to see who it was.

"Ahhh, you must be Himuro-san!" Taiga knew that bubbly female voice coming from the entrance and he heaved himself out of the kitchen chair into his wheeled one.

"Uhm, and you are…?" The confusion in Tatsuya’s voice was indistinguishable, but Momoi didn’t spare him another word as she saw Taiga in the kitchen.

"Kagamin! There you are!" Breezing past Tatsuya, pink hair flying behind her like a veil, she jumped into the kitchen. Taiga grinned at her, awkwardly, while his brother was following the woman with a confused expression, mouthing a <i>"Who is this?"</i> in Taiga’s general direction

"Momoi-san," Taiga said, surprise lacing his voice, "wha-what are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?"

She waved him off like a fly, a smile gracing her features. “Ah, that was pretty easy,” she said, sitting down on one of the chairs and placing her purse on the tabletop, “gathering information is one of my specialties. I am a lawyer!”

Obviously, the question was off the table for Momoi now, Taiga and Tatsuya looked at each other, complete and utter shock on one, downright confusion on the other face. The pinkette just kept on smiling, folding her hands underneath her chin.

"Say, Kagamin," she then stated, looking at Taiga, "would you like to join me visiting Dai-chan again?"

The redhead looked at her with wide eyes, Tatsuya even more confused than before. Right, he didn’t know of all the things that had happened back at the hospital. Taiga sighed deeply. He would have a lot of explaining to do to his brother.

"I, uh, why? I mean, you told me pretty much everything about Aomine-san and I really don’t want to intrude any more, I-"

"But what if I tell you, that the doctor said Dai-chan’s brain activity has started to increase since the day you and I visited him together?" The smug look on her face made Taiga look at her, completely flabbergasted and void of anything to say. That was a surprise, indeed and now even Tatsuya looked up in interest.

The only thing Taiga managed to get out of his mouth, while Tatsuya kept standing in the background, now completely lost, but really intrigued, was a high pitched “Excuse me?”

Momoi giggled, shifting in her chair to have a more comfortable position.

"Yes," she said sounding pleased, and Taiga felt the notion of absolute excitement swinging in the undertones of her voice, "but it was actually quite scary at first! When you left and I kept talking to him, his heart rate and breathing suddenly increased and I was so shocked I called the doctor! I was really scared something bad was happening! But Midorin couldn’t find anything wrong, so they put him in the MRI to see what was going on with him and the scans showed increased brain activity! And seeing which areas of the brain had been triggered, Midorin said that Dai-chan was angry!”

The words had spilled out of her mouth at lightning speed and she had jumped up so suddenly mid speech, her chair almost fell over. She leaned on the table with both hands, looking at Taiga, her eyes glowing in excitement, her face bright and a broad smile dancing on her lips. Out of reflex, the redhead sunk a little more into the seat of his wheelchair, as Momoi came even closer.

"Kagamin, he is responding to the things surrounding him, he has at least some level of consciousness left," she said and her voice was shaking, if it was from happiness or oncoming tears, Taiga couldn’t tell, "and I was right when I tried to get as many people to talk to him as possible! I know it’s working and I’m not going to stop. This is proof, this is solid proof! And it is more than we could have ever hoped!"

"But why would you want me to come with you?" Taiga sounded slightly desperate when Momoi nearly leaned across the table, that dangerous glint never leaving her pink eyes. Again, Taiga was completely lost and he looked over to Tatsuya, seeking for help, but the other man just smiled helplessly, raising his hands in surrender. Momoi meanwhile had plopped back into her seat, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Actually, I think Dai-chan is angry because of you."

"Of course," Taiga exclaimed at that, "I’m the one who almost killed him!"

Tatsuya watched their exchange from the kitchen entrance, arms crossed, dark eyes moving from one to the other, not saying a word. And Taiga knew, when Tatsuya did a thing like this, he would have to answer him at some point. The only problem was, Taiga didn’t understand a single thing himself. He just looked at Momoi, eyes wide, hands in his hair.

"Why do you want me to keep seeing him? Wouldn’t that affect him negatively?"

Again, the pinkette shifted in her seat, crossing her legs underneath the table and looked at Taiga with a sharp expression.

"You know," she said, calm, collected, "when I talked to him in the beginning, or his parents, or the nurses and doctors, nothing changed. Nothing. But then, I brought you, you who is responsible for him lying in that bed," Taiga cringed at that, feeling like she had stung him with a needle, but Momoi continued without mercy, "and suddenly, his brain starts working as much as it hasn’t in days!"

Taiga doesn’t say anything, the tension building in the room almost tangible now as Momoi continued speaking.

"So, any change that doesn’t make Daiki fall into an even more vegetative state is a good change. Which means, even if I have to carry you to the hospital again, you will help me. Do you understand that?"

Taiga quickly nodded, feeling somehow intimidated by this small and fragile looking woman. But Momoi looked at him, very pleased.

"Call it a woman’s intuition, call it fate, but I have a feeling that you are… important."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Taiga, hey, wake up."

"Ugh…"

The grip on his shoulder, shaking him slightly, weakened as soon as Taiga opened his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness, grumbling and immediately yawning.

"What time is it," he mumbled, rubbing his face and let his hands glide through his tousled red hair. Tatsuya only chuckled, placing a brown paper bag on the coffee table in front of them. A heavenly smell emitted from it, Tatsuya must have brought something back from the restaurant.

"Around midnight," Tatsuya answered while Taiga slowly sat up, rubbing his stomach which started growling the moment his nose was hit with the glorious smell of good food. "I just came home from work."

A very vague “Mhm.” was the only thing that left Taiga’s lips before he started unpacking the bag, Tatsuya grinned and shook his head at the zombie-like state his brother was in. He made his way into the kitchen, getting plates and utensils.

"So," the dark haired man said between two bites of garlic bread, "I had to keep my curiosity in check the whole day and now I want an explanation for that… thing this morning. You know? That one where the cute girl comes in and takes you to the hospital to talk about her childhood friend who you put in a coma?"

Taiga looked up from his potato soup, spoon halfway to his mouth, momentarily speechless. He put the bowl back onto the table, leaning back and rested his head on the soft headpiece of the sofa, ignoring the remark Tatsuya made about Aomine and the coma.

"It’s a really weird story, to be quite honest," he then said and Tatsuya laughed.

"Well, I’ve been friends with you for quite a while, I’m used to weird stories." Taiga poked him into his side with his left hand and Tatsuya yelped. But then he started talking. How he wanted some alone time after the check up at the lake, how Satoshi had somehow and magically found him there. How they fought and broke up for good ("Good decision, I never really liked him," Tatsuya said at that, earning a glare from Taiga.), how Momoi Satsuki started talking to him and wasn’t on the verge of ripping his head off. He told him how she took him to see Aomine Daiki, how she told him about the man lying in a coma now and made Taiga feel a little less alone.

"Wow," Tatsuya said, voice low, "that was… quite a day."

Taiga huffed in approval, rubbing his eyes, feeling tired all over again. “Yeah, it was. Things like this don’t happen in real life .And I still don’t quite get it. “

"Neither do I," Tatsuya admitted, "I mean, it’s nothing short of a miracle that nobody sued you up until this point and that this woman still wants you to meet her friend, but I think you should go with it. It seems like Momoi-san is right with her assumption that you and Aomine-san both could benefit from this strange arrangement."

With a deep sigh, the redhead nodded, recollecting the past few days and how visiting Aomine, talking to Momoi and really confronting everything that had happened and everything that was going on now helped him. Step by step. Piece by piece. Even though he knew Momoi’s priority was supporting her childhood friend and that him profiting from the situation was only a nice side effect. Still. It helped him put his mind a little more at ease and honestly, that was all Taiga needed at the moment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next time Taiga was pushed into Aomine’s hospital room, there was someone there who the redhead hadn’t seen before. And really, he hadn’t even noticed he was even there until Momoi yelped enthusiastically and jumped the young man standing next to the bed, hugging him tight with a happy “Tetsu-kun!”. Only then Taiga saw him standing there, slim body, not tall and not short, light blue hair, fair skin.

"Momoi-san, please, you are making it hard to breathe," he said with a calm and soft voice, muffled from the fact that Momoi pressed his face into her ample chest.

"Oh, ha ha, I’m sorry, Tetsu-kun," Momoi laughed and released the man, "old habits die hard I guess."

Trying to straighten his disheveled light blue hair with his hands again, the man Momoi addressed with Tetsu-kun, looked at Taiga.

"And you must be Kagami-kun," he said, looking at Taiga with a blank expression, but rather piercing blue eyes, "Momoi-san has told me about you. It is nice to meet you. My name is Kuroko Tetsuya." Kuroko gave a little bow and Taiga awkwardly nodded, scratching his neck.

"Yeah, nice to meet you, too," he said, "Kagami Taiga." A little bit taken aback by this blunt display of politeness, Taiga really didn’t know if the man wanted to strangle him for causing an accident or just wanted to hold a civilized conversation, and didn’t say anything more.

"I’m so glad you could make it, Tetsu-kun," Momoi chimed while they sat down on one side of the hospital bed, while Taiga wheeled into his usual spot on the other side. "I know how busy you are with work."

"Of course, Momoi-san," Kuroko said, looking at the other man lying motionless on the hospital bed, "I’m just sad that I couldn’t come sooner to see Aomine-kun."

Momoi smiled at that, putting a hand onto Aomine’s shoulder. “Ah, I bet he doesn’t mind,” she said, “and he wouldn’t even admit that he’s happy to see you, even though you’ve been friends since Middle School.”

Silence fell upon them, solemn and Taiga felt the nostalgia radiating off of the two sitting on the other side of the bed in waves. It made him feel like he was some sort of unwanted intruder, completely out of place. And looking closer, he really was. So the break the silence, and the redhead really didn’t know what made him ask it, he just opened his mouth.

"So… you and Aomine-san are really close?"

They looked at him, Momoi with a slightly amused expression, since this was the first question Taiga actually asked about the blue haired man, Kuroko just tilted his head, his face taking on a slightly thoughtful expression.

"Yes and no," he finally said and now it was Taiga’s turn to look at him confused, Momoi sighed and it was a sound speaking of sad and beautiful stories not yet told.

"We went to the same Middle-School, Aomine-kun, Momoi-san and I. And of course, we met through our school’s basketball club." Kuroko looked at Aomine’s sleeping face, eyes slightly out of focus, his thoughts combing through the memories of his early teens.

"I know what you think, Kagami-kun," he then said, focusing back on Taiga and the redhead flinched involuntarily. “‘This guy can’t possibly play basketball, look at his poor physique,’" Kuroko tried to mimic Taiga’s gruff voice in a quite poor attempt, but it still made Taiga look guiltily at his hands in his lap.

Momoi giggled, Kuroko continued.

"And you are probably right, but still," the blue haired man continued, unfazed, "I was really no good for quite a while. That was until Aomine-kun approached me and encouraged me to keep on trying." A small smile was gracing his delicate features, his eyes again losing their focus. "He would even practice with me, the ace of the invincible Teiko basketball club, helping me, the eternal shadow."

"He had so much fun, seeing you playing with all you had, loving basketball just as much as he did, even though Tetsu-kun had almost no skills."

At that, Kuroko had the dignity to look at least a little offended and he cleared his throat, ignoring what Momoi had just said.

"Aomine-kun was a good friend, loyal and caring. An honest soul. But," he drifted off, looking at Momoi, who had the same sad look in her eyes as back then when she talked to Taiga about Aomine and basketball.

"But he changed. Momoi-san has surely told you about this."

Taiga nodded, looking at Kuroko firmly, not wanting to interrupt.

"He was my best friend, Kagami-san," he finally said, a slight, almost unnoticeable crack in his voice, "and when his talent began to bloom, I lost him. I could not give him what he needed, not as his friend or as a player. It was impossible. And when he was struck down by his depression, I couldn’t do anything else than watch him fall down that hole."

He said nothing for a while and Taiga could see the gears in his head turning, Momoi sat there next to him, her hands kneading her fingers in her lap.

"You must know, Kagami-san," Kuroko suddenly continued, almost startling Taiga, "Aomine-kun has a really strong and determined head. At times he can get quite temperamental. He is cocky and snarky and lazy," Momoi gave a small smile at that, "but if he likes you, you know it. And I know I was as much of a friend to him as he was to me. So it was even harder to see everything completely out of control and I still regret deeply that I couldn’t be of any help to him."

"And Tetsu-kun really tried, you know? But Dai-chan didn’t let anyone through to him. No one."

Kuroko sighed, nodding, eyes closed for a moment. “There was no one to help him pull himself out of that hole. Absolutely no one. And alone…” He left his sentence unfinished, as it was clear to everyone how it was supposed to end.

"He was always searching," Momoi then said when Kuroko remained silent, "searching for someone on the same level as him, be it basketball or just being able to peg him down a notch or two. A rival, a friend and maybe," she smiled, sad and somehow defeated, "and maybe even a lover. And until this day, he hasn’t found anyone able to fulfill any of that."

"People were either scared of his talent or completely and unquestioningly admired him. No one was able to really look past that," Kuroko said matter of factly, "and if they were able to, they lacked another thing."

"Dai-chan is a really complicated person," Momoi sighed, "and not many people bother to look past his first layer of impolite snarkyness."

They kept on talking about how much of an asshole Aomine could be and how annoying he actually was most of the time. Still, Taiga couldn’t do anything else but feel more and more intrigued. His eyes wandered back to the other man’s face, unchanging, smooth and peaceful and he wondered how it would look, scrunched up in anger, laughing, lazily smirking, one cocky eyebrow lifted, a challenge on his lips.

The thought stirred a strange sense of nostalgia in Taiga, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. And having Kuroko and Momoi tell him all these things about a man he had only seen laying in a hospital bed, made him even more curious.

Oh boy…

"Well then," Kuroko cleared his throat and Taiga jerked out of his thoughts, "unfortunately I have a lot of papers to grade. I have to take my leave now." He gathered his things and put on a black pea coat.

"It was nice to meet you, Kagami-san."

And with that, he took his leave, just as quick and inconspicuous as he had arrived, Momoi looking after him with a fond expression.

"You know, Kagamin," she then said, softly, almost inaudible, "I was really in love with Tetsu-kun, right until we graduated from highschool."

"O-oh?" Taiga wasn’t familiar with this kind of talk, so his response was rather noncommittal. More than once he was told he lacked delicacy when it came to talking to women. Of course, Momoi noticed his discomfort and laughed.

"Yes," she said, "but he never really responded to my advances. I thought he was gay at first and then I learned that Tetsu-kun isn’t interested in romance and the more… bodily pleasures. At all." She giggled and Taiga needed a moment to process what this actually meant.

"And, most of the time, you find love in all those places you’d never thought you could." A soft look, different from those before, spread across her features and she glanced on the diamond ring gracing the one finger on her left hand. She lifted her head and her pink eyes met Taiga’s crimson ones.

"But this, Kagamin, is a story for another day."

[angelicyouth]

// Opulence Masterlist

⇢ pairing(s): multiple x reader

⇢ synopsis: ❝You were always told by adults that the “no sharing” phase would go away given some time. But of course, the boys prove everyone wrong when they continue to fight over you despite the years passing by.❞

⇢ note: stories in this series are unrelated to each other unless stated!

⇢ status: ongoing

⇢ [AO3 link]

♪--- Proscenium [x]

⇢ ❝The beginning of the new school year reveals to your friends that you were never a boy like they've always believed you to be, but a girl—and that you have been one the entire time that you've known them.❞

☆--- Ingénue [coming soon]

⇢ ❝All your life, you've always ignored your mother whenever she'd insist that you start hanging out with your female friends more often. But when the boys begin to freak out over you, you're finally able to realize what she meant by that.❞

[angelicyouth]

Risky

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

⇢ synopsis: ❝Four (4) times that you almost got caught by the rest of the boys + the one (1) time that you actually did.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ note: part of the [youth au] but can be read by itself!

♡*･｡ﾟ// ONE (Craig):

Whenever Kenny or Craig spend their time playing video games online with the rest of the boys, you'll typically find yourself sitting on the floor in between their legs to hang out with them despite the difference in your activities.

You'll hug one of their limbs against your chest and rest a chin on their thigh, a blanket wrapped around your shoulder for warmth and a soft pillow cushioned underneath your body for comfort.

During occasions like these, you'll often occupy your own time by eating some snacks that you hand feed to the mouth of whichever boyfriend is currently playing as your unoccupied fingers swipe against the glass screen of your cellphone.

Whenever they have time to spare in between games or they're waiting the few seconds for their character to respawn, their hands will always find purchase on your head as they either run their fingers through the silky locks of your hair or pat your head for patiently waiting for him.

A variation of good girl’s or look at my pretty baby will be mumbled against your soft skin as they plant a kiss onto your forehead or cheek, gently showering you with all sorts of praise and affection.

((Kenny and Craig have found you asleep from this position from time to time, the repetitive motions of their fingers in your hair soothing you to slumber. When this happens, the boys are sure to baby you with gentle massages to your sore neck when your eyelashes softly flutter awake. The blonde will often joke about how they should get you a dog bed for underneath their gaming setup, causing you to pout and for him to pepper your face with an onslaught of kisses until you smile again. It’s hard to stay mad when he softly coos at you, Kenny greatly endeared by anything and everything you do.))

Sometimes, when you're feeling particularly needy, you like to sit on their lap so that both of your chests are pressed up against each other with your chin planted on their shoulder.

You'll either wrap your arms around their waist or drape them over their broad shoulders as you play with your own handheld gaming console behind their body.

((When you do this, Craig will often complain of the heat from the close proximity of another body and from the blanket thrown over your joined forms but he has never suggested that he doesn't like it or that he doesn't want you to do this anymore.))

If you're feeling playful, you like to tease them with small kitten licks to the expanse of skin you have access to, mixed along with the contrasting harsh suction of your mouth as you invoke a trail of vivid reds and deep purples for them to find later on.

Seeing their skin slicked up with saliva, you find joy when you blow onto the wet area and see goosebumps run along their entire body from the sensation.

Sometimes when you're feeling particularly possessive, you'll bite down just to see the imprint of your teeth against what's yours.

At a sight like that, this usually transitions into you grinding your body against their lap when you feel their hardening member underneath you.

It drives them absolutely crazy when small puffs of your hot breath quickly hits the column of their neck as you burrow your face into their skin, the sensation leaving you breathless and desperate for some much needed oxygen.

At this point, Kenny will immediately throw his controller carelessly onto the desk in front of him to go AFK so that he can get his hands on your body.

And because of his rush to touch you, he'll leave his headset on.

The blonde has absolutely no shame so he doesn't give a fuck when the boys start complaining and yelling at him for costing the whole team their win—they'll immediately shut up when they hear his low moans through the microphone, the breathy way he praises you for taking him in so well, and the lewd sounds of your slicked lips pressing against each other.

This doesn't work on Craig, however.

He chances a glance at you when you turn around from your usual position from between his legs on the floor but you just flash him an innocent smile in reassurance, your chin resuming its position against the top of his thigh but dangerously close to his crotch, more so than usual.

You'll play along with the material of his pants and the creases against the fabric in faux innocence as you watch a video on your phone, slowly inching your hand closer and closer to his member.

You palm him against your hand and the corner of your lips quirk up in a smirk when you can see his jaw tensing at the pressure you exert onto his body, his teeth clenched as he forms rigid replies to the boys.

He accidentally lets out a low but throaty groan when you place a wet kiss on the skin of his taut stomach, your unoccupied hand lightly skimming itself against his bare side and eliciting a shiver to rack throughout his whole body.

All the boys are quick to chime in with concern by asking if he's getting attacked or needs help from any one of them, Butters insistent in transferring a healing potion into the ravenette's inventory despite his refusal for aide.

Be prepared for the consequences when he finally finishes his games because that man will punish you.

"You act like a bad girl then you get treated like one."

The ravenette will edge you so that when you begin to feel the familiar build up of your release as he eats you out, you'll loudly wail when his hot tongue is immediately substituted with the cold air of the room that hits your weeping folds.

He'll sit you up on his lap while he's deep inside of you but you're not allowed to move or make any type of noise while he plays for a whole match.

He won't properly fuck you until you succeed with being quiet for an entire game.

♡*･｡ﾟ// TWO (Kenny):

Whenever you guys do long distance drives that amount to an exceedingly large number of hours to get to your destination, the group will typically rotate on drivers throughout the whole trip.

It's Kenny's turn to drive one of the cars that holds the boys to somewhere warmer for a camping trip (with the amount of people in Team Stan + Team Craig including Butters and yourself, you'll usually take 2-3 cars in total).

All the other guys in the car are fast asleep at the back so you don't even take a glance at the blonde driver to the left of your position at the passenger side when your hand innocently rests itself against his thigh.

When you start to lightly trail your slender hand against his slowly hardening member, Kenny's trembling fingers will reach out to turn up the music just a tad bit so that the blissfully oblivious boys don't wake up from any suspicious sounds.

You can hear his audible gulp amongst the snoring of the sleeping teens, his hand clenching it’s hold around the leather steering wheel in front of him as you nonchalantly stare out at the passing scenery from outside the window in an attempt to hide your smirk.

He'll sing along to the music playing in an additional effort to mask up the lewd noises but his words begin to get breathier and dangerously waver when your tongue pays special attention to the vein running along his heavy length or when you swirl your wet muscle around his leaking tip.

The blond will curse underneath his breath when he can't buck his hips up to fuck your mouth like he usually does because he doesn't want the sound of you gagging or the crude noise of saliva against your slicked lips to rouse the guys from their slumber.

Kenny accidentally swerves sharply on the road when your hand wraps around the remaining girth that doesn't fit into your mouth, expertly twisting your smaller hand around the base in time to your bobbing mouth when someone from the back lightly groans at the harsh motion.

His large hand tightens itself around the hair at the base of your head as you take all of him in and the slight tugging he provides feels amazing, causing you to moan against his member.

The vibrations from the sounds you make causes him to reach his climax, the blonde biting his lips so hard to muffle his groan that all he can taste is the distinct, metallic taste of copper.

Fortunately, the boys don't wake up until 5-10 minutes after your ministrations as Clyde begins to whine about needing to use the bathroom and Cartman starting to complain about getting some more snacks for the road.

When you're at the closest gas station, filling up your plastic cup with some flavored ice-cold slushie to sip at in the car, Craig will raise an eyebrow when he tastes Kenny's lingering bitterness in your mouth when he kisses you.

Kenny will snicker when the boy's start to admonish the ravenette after they see yours and his purple stained tongues, a result from the mixture of Craig's cherry slurpee and your blue raspberry against one another.

The guys complain and strictly reiterate to the three of you that it's a bro trip with absolutely no PDA being tolerated, not knowing that the blonde broke that rule first.

♡*･｡ﾟ// THREE (Craig):

It's a night in with the boys, a sleepover where the loser to the video game that they're currently playing has to go out and use Stan's car to buy some late-night snacks for everyone else.

Unfortunately for Craig, the monotonous teen lost when Jimmy played dirty and perfectly timed a harsh shove at the ravenette's shoulder when he was close to crossing the finish line.

You obediently follow him out of the door without being asked to because you always tag along with your two lovers whenever they have any errands to do and vice versa.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull your body close to his in order to press a gentle kiss onto the side of your head, a wordless thank you being conveyed from the kind and loyal gesture.

As much as he wanted to, Kenny couldn't join because he's been on a winning streak, meaning he's not allowed to forfeit his controller until he loses his metaphorical crown.

You rub soothing circles onto the back of his hand, the both of you intertwining your fingers over the center console of the car when you notice him pulling over in the middle of seemingly nowhere.

"I want you, now" is the only explanation you get and you’d be fucking lying if your eyes didn’t seamlessly transition from confusion to clear want at how much this boy makes you feel so damn wanted, anywhere and at anytime.

The authoritative tone he commands you with mixes along beautifully with his deep voice and you haul your body into the backseat of the car as quickly as you can (you would've done anything the ravenette asked you without question, regardless).

"Careful babe, you wouldn't want to get anything on your brother's seats," he mumbles underneath you as his tongue teasingly circles around the entrance of your heat.

As you're riding his face, the teen's larger hands tightly grips onto the skin of your thighs when your phone begins to cut through the charged air of the vehicle with an obnoxious alert that lets you know that you're getting a call.

His cold fingers ground you from your haze-induced pleasure as he lightly drags his fingers along the expanse of skin exposed to him, the silver metal decorating his longer digits eliciting a cacophony of goosebumps along your trembling body.

Ring adorned hands grabs onto the screaming mobile device, Craig smirking as he answers the phone for you without pausing or relenting on his tongue's enthusiastic assault in between your soft thighs.

The boys call to tell you what snacks and drinks that they specifically want from the convenience store, your teeth gritting in frustration as they prolong it by fighting to have their voices heard over the others.

When he teasingly grazes his teeth against your highly sensitive bundle of nerves with a large hand shooting out to lightly grasp at the column of your neck, you can't help the small mewl that escapes from the confines of your mouth at the influx of sensations attacking you at once.

The boys ask if you're okay but you quickly excuse the sound by saying that a raccoon took you both by surprise, your breathy voice a result from running at the sight of the chasing mammal.

You snort when you hear Cartman call Craig a pussy bitch for that, the ravenette harshly sucking to reprimand you for laughing at his expense so you make it up to him by telling the large teen on the other end of the line to quit being defensive over his fursona.

With an already large group like yours, it's already a given that the call will be long with having all of the guys relaying their requests but you can't say anything as you grind against the ravenette's face in retaliation for lowly chuckling at your tortuous predicament.

Don't worry, he'll reward you for not making a suggestive sound throughout the duration of the phone call by fucking you in the sleeping bag that you both share that night (you couldn't help but stare at Clyde's drooling face in pity at his obliviousness to the situation but the sympathy doesn't last for long when a particularly deep thrust forces you to bite onto the material of your pillow to stop your high-pitched whine from coming out of your mouth).

Kenny develops a cute pout on his handsome face the following morning during breakfast when he sees a hickey on your neck that he knows he didn't leave on you when he fucked you himself an hour before the sleepover.

♡*･｡ﾟ// FOUR (Kenny):

During the half-time of one of the boy's football matches, you're granted a quick break as your team doesn't have to perform—it's an away game so the home school's cheerleaders take on the job instead.

Like always, you head to the concession stand to buy some extra gatorades, water bottles, and snacks for the boys (just in case!) for the bus ride back to school when Kenny catches you by the crook of your arm (the blonde has a special talent of finding you anywhere, even within a sea of moving people).

You softly smile at him when he interlocks your hands together as you both talk about the game, your eyebrow quirking up when you notice the detour that the blonde is taking as the halls become more desolate until there's no other person occupying it besides for you two.

You're not surprised when he leads you to a bathroom stall to fuck you in, the football player notorious between your two boyfriends for always enjoying a good quickie (it doesn't matter what time or where, as long as you're involved then he's always hard and ready for some fun).

He's also always more vocal between the two about how much he loves your cheer uniform on you.

The way that the thin fabric hugs your body, further accentuating your curves and the way your short skirt sits perfectly on your ass and thighs is just chef's kiss to him—whenever you wear your cheer uniform, you know that you're getting laid as long as you leave your skirt on when you fuck (as per the blonde's only request when you dress like that).

He especially loves to see you with your hair tied up, your pretty little cheer bow perfectly sitting at the top of your head like a present just for him (how can he resist when you're wrapped up so pretty like that? presents are meant to be opened).

The blonde plants you on his lap as he sits on the cover of the closed toilet seat, his thumb running along the quickly hardening nub of your nipple as his tongue swirls around the twin mound on the other side of your chest.

You can just feel his growing smirk against your skin when the entrance of the restroom opens, the voices of the boy's rapidly filling in the once quiet space as the blonde mischievously chose the male bathroom closest to the locker rooms and field.

You can hear all of your friends and even your damn brother talking to one another, taking the short reprieve from the game to relieve themselves before they're back on the artificial tuft of the field to play.

His legs expertly lift up so that they're not shown before he plants them on the flimsy stall door that provides a barrier between you and the others, one of his larger hands trailing up your face to stick two of his longer fingers into your slightly parted lips.

You understand the nonverbal demand as you begin to suck onto his digits, the blonde physically silencing every gasp and moan that threatens to leak out of your mouth.

His unoccupied hand reaches under your skirt (convenient and beautiful on your body, what's not to like?) so that his fingers can lightly trail against your thighs until goosebumps arise from his cool fingers before they gather the slick steadily pouring out of your heat.

Your body's reaction to his ministrations allows him to seamlessly run along your weeping folds, rubbing circles onto the small bundle of nerves that are desperately screaming for his undivided attention.

His foot will accidentally slip from its purchase on the stall door before quickly resuming its previous position when you lick the shell of his ear and lightly suck at his earlobe, the both of you hearing Cartman's distinctive sneer at the sudden noise: "Ew, was that a fucking rat?!"

When the bathroom finally clears (tears are already leaking from the corner of your eyes, goddammit), the blonde doesn't waste not even a second before he turns your body around to slam the front of it against the stall door, his pants quickly meeting the dirty, tiled floor to mercilessly pound into you from behind.

Another reason he loves when your hair is tied up is because it makes it easier for his slicked lips to attach themselves onto your neck—makes it easier for him to gather all of your hair into one hand so that he can pull on it and dirtily whisper into your ear, every word granting a puff of air that lightly tickles your skin.

When he finishes, he'll release all of his load inside of your tight heat and make you stay filled up for the rest of the game—he'll eat it out of you later, every last drop of it as a reward.

♡*･｡ﾟ// ONE (Kenny + Craig):

You and the boys are situated in varying positions around the backyard, the warm weather calling for an outdoor activity such as a barbecue to enjoy the rare rays of sunshine greeting South Park.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you begin to take suggestive pictures to send in your group chat with your two significant others in an attempt to rile them up in a setting where they're powerless to do something about it.

Craig warns you over text, relaying over the phone that he's currently using his plate of food to cover his damn lap at the sight of your body.

It doesn't take long before they relent to your teasing, the digital conversation quickly escalating to dirty talk and filthy promises of later.

You slightly jolt when you hear someone yell from the outside, your form immediately running to where everyone else is gathered on an assortment of plastic chairs or wooden picnic benches.

The first thing you notice is that every single one of the boys are staring at their phones with varying expressions of slightly parted lips, wide eyes, and red faces.

On either end of the spectrum is amusement in the form of loud laughter and smirks or disappointment slightly tinged with disgust (unfortunately, the rest of the boys will always see you as their little sister—even when you grow wrinkly and your hair turns grey at 100 years old. and no sane person wants to hear about their baby sibling’s private life, especially the intimate details).

You're confused until your brother’s screams: "I did not need a detailed description on how you two fucking bastards eat out my FUCKING SISTER!"

When Clyde sent a meme to the group chat containing all of the other guys and you just a few minutes ago, both Craig and Kenny made the amateur mistake of forgetting to switch back to the correct chat log.

The only thing the blonde is able to say before Kyle has to hold back a seething, red-faced Stan is: "Chill, dude. You act like you didn't hear us fucking in the bedroom next to yours last weekend."

"You fucking WHAT?!"

"... I thought you knew? Baby girl was being pretty fucking lou-"

Kenny, unfortunately, didn't get to finish his sentence.

[angelicyouth]

Token

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x reader

⇢ synopsis: ❝Your blonde lover saves up money from his part-time job to surprise you with a visit to Build-A-Bear Workshop.❞

⇢ warning: implied sexual content

Your boyfriend has you pick out a stuffed animal to your choosing and whatever clothes/accessories you want for it, proudly stating that he’s treating you out and paying for all of the expenses.

You ask in faux innocence if you can put one of the many audio files that he’s sent you of him whimpering as the voice recording inside of it.

With a deep shade of vermilion quickly spreading across his cheeks, the blonde has to unfortunately deny your request so you ask if you can put one of his soft groaning instead.

You absolutely beg him to approve of a particular one that you love containing the pretty little moans that leak out of his soft pink lips when the two of you are apart during heated nights ((the slicked sounds of his hands in the background and his pleasure-filled breathing is just so delicious)).

((the answer sadly stays the same because it'd be utterly embarrassing for the worker that's helping you out to hear it. you were so close to having him say yes, though. the blonde is absolutely weak to your puppy eyes and the cute pout you sometimes cast on your face when you're upset but he gets you to relent when he offers you a visit to the pretzel or cinnamon roll stand at the mall you're at afterwards)).

After much discussion, you both settle for putting the song that you both associate with your relationship ((and the one that will inevitably be played during your first dance together as a married couple at your wedding reception in the future)).

When the employee helping you two out has you gently nestle the plush heart in the palm of your hands to make a wish, the skin between your eyebrows crease as you seriously contemplate on what you will use this opportunity on.

You think about blessing your relationship with Kenny but ultimately decide on asking for only days filled with happiness, love, and success for just the blonde himself.

Kenny is patient as you take the time to seriously choose outfits and the name to permanently put on the birth certificate, the blonde fondly watching you with soft eyes as a smile gently curves against his handsome face.

He can't help stealing affectionate pecks on your lips as he obediently follows you around the store, endlessly endeared at the passion you put in everything you do and how seriously you're taking his present.

You’re thoroughly content at your boyfriend's sweet gesture, leaving the store with your hands tightly intertwined with his and the newest addition to your little family nestled in the crook of your arm.

You ask if there was a reason for the surprise ((you mentally fret that you may have forgotten a special occasion or an anniversary or something equally important)).

The blonde placates you with an affectionate kiss against the soft locks of hair adorning your head and reassures you that he just wanted to leave you with something in his place whenever you’re missing him.

"What? I can't treat my pretty girl out for no reason at all except for the fact that she's cute?"

You can't help but to feel bad that he's spending his hard-earned money on you like this when his family's financial situation is less than ideal.

"If you need a reason so bad then it's because I love you. I want to do this for you because you're so deserving of everything good in life. And as your boyfriend, it's an absolute honor to be the one who gets to give you the whole entire world. So, please. Just let me, okay beautiful?" He softly mumbles against the skin of your forehead while his arms wrap around your waist in an effort to make you feel better, forever grateful that you're always concerned with his well-being.

When you both go out for dinner after your surprise trip to the mall, your already overflowing heart can't help but to burst at the seams when Kenny gently places your stuffed animal in its own chair at the restaurant so that it can sit with the both of you.

With two straws placed in the drink that you order for yourself, he urges you into position so that he can take a picture with both you and your new gift on either end of a straw. This is so that he can commemorate the adoption and he can set the adorable photo as his new lockscreen wallpaper! ((a matching one of you sleeping with it cuddled against your chest will be his homescreen wallpaper))

He’s sure to leave his scent lingering against the soft fabric by spraying his cologne on your stuffed toy whenever it’s fading. The comforting smell helps tide you over whenever your blonde lover is busy with work, extracurricular activities like sports, or he’s out with the boys.

Whenever Kenny has to leave you for the night after spending time with you at your house, he never forgets to give the gifted plush a peck on its head after attacking your face with his own multitude of goodbye kisses.

When you're busy with homework or distracted on your cellphone, Kenny will pretend to speak through the stuffed toy in a comical voice to communicate to you that he's hungry or that he wants attention or that he's in the mood for some fun **wink wink**

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Kenny's soft lips gently suck on the column of your neck, his wet tongue quickly darting out to soothe the slicked spot of abuse. His normally crystal-like eyes possessively darken at the utterly wrecked sight of his lover splayed out in front of him, the corner of his pink lips delightedly quirked up as he watches the deep purple and vivid reds that begin to bloom against your skin. His territorial marks of love are a stark contrast on your otherwise unblemished body, the occasional indents of his teeth imprinted against your soft skin joining the fray. Longer fingers begin to leisurely skim against the exposed skin of your hips, the cool metal of his ring adorned hands eliciting a cacophony of goosebumps in its wake at the heightened sensation. Small breaths of air quickly leaves your slightly parted lips when he lazily licks his way into your mouth, your smaller hands hurriedly tightening their hold around the blonde field of hair in front of you for purchase. The slight pressure exerted when he lightly sucks at your lips forces out a soft mewl to escape your throat, the male on top of you heaving out a soft chuckle at the needy reaction his ministrations elicits. The sound of it is all-knowing, too confident that you can't help the whine that you let out at his relentless teasing. He cockily smirks at the melodious noise as his fingers play along the edge of the underwire of your bra, his deep baritone beautifully mixing with the lust-induced huskiness of his voice. "Patience, baby. We've got the whole night—just let me take care of you and enjoy." His breath is hot against the curves and dips of your body, every puff of air deliciously following his words as they lightly hit the expanse of skin he has access to. His hands force your unconsciously moving hips down onto the soft linen of the bed as they try to desperately chase any type of friction against your weeping core. The blonde softly mouthes along your skin in time with the lyrics of the soft music playing in the background and you can just feel the smirk on his lips as he does so. When he finally begins to reach behind your back to undo the clasps of your bra, his handsome face morphs into one of confusion when you hastily push his hands away. "Ken!" A deep shade of crimson prettily sits atop your cheeks, the soft pink of your lips downturned into a pout as you cross your arms over your chest in indignation. There's a questioning look on Kenny's face as he meticulously scans your expression for any indication of hurt until realization suddenly hits, the blonde snorting as he affectionately rolls his eyes. He blindly reaches out a hand towards the pillows neatly decorated at the head of the bed until they feel the soft material of your Build-A-Bear, the blonde seamlessly turning the stuffed animal around so that its plastic eyes aren't watching the two of you any longer. "Now, where were we?"

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

If you go out with Wendy and the other girls for the day, Kenny will take temporary possession of your beloved stuffed animal and will send you pictures of the both of them doing mundane things throughout their time together.

Updates will include photos of a controller placed on its plush lap as it sits on the couch in between Kyle and Stan to let you know that your boyfriend is playing video games.

Or the stuffed animal sitting on a plastic chair next to Tolkien as the group of boy's eat out, a single french fry laying on its fur covered paw to reassure you that its being treated fairly.

Maybe a quick snap of Tweek will be taken as his shaky fingers fiddle with the tufts of soft fabric adorning the toy or the creases within the material of its clothes as an outlet to soothe his anxious energy.

You fondly smile when your phone alerts you of an image of Butters holding your plushed baby on his lap as they all watch a movie, a multitude of neon colors from the flashing lights of the television reflecting off of the two as the blonde holds up an adorable peace sign for the photo.

Your stomach hurts from laughing when he sends you a picture of Clyde passed out on the couch, your beloved plush with its bottom clothing pulled down to press its furry ass against the brunette's obliviously slumbering face ((the blonde takes special care to not get drool on it)).

Cartman doesn't like going anywhere near it because there was a time when he accidentally got cheese dust on its fur from when he was carelessly eating his cheesy poofs ((you made him buy your stuffed animal a whole new outfit until you deemed him worthy of forgiveness and talked to him again)).

A snort escapes your mouth when a paw is lifted towards Craig's snickering face, the following text explaining the picture: you can't tell but it's throwing up its middle finger at this asshole for licking the last slice of pizza even though i FUCKING CLAIMED IT FIRST!!!!

Sometimes he gets jealous of the utmost care you present to the plush, especially when he gets less space on the bed because he can't shove it off of the floor when he spends the night at your place ((he gets tempted to throw a punch or two at its defenseless face in pettiness when you leave the room but then he reminds himself that he was the one who paid for it and settles for glaring at it instead)).

When you picked him up for a day out because you were able to borrow your family's car, he excitedly hums his way to the passenger side to open the vehicle's door. His ecstatic mood gets flipped upside down as it only reveals your stuffed animal buckled in on the seat next to yours ((every time you chanced a peak at the rear-view mirror, you couldn't help chuckling whenever you saw him pouting as he stared outside of the window from his seat at the back of the car. you felt bad for teasing him and eventually pulled over to have them switch seats, pressing a kiss of apology on his downturned lips)).

If you're being stubborn, he'll use your stuffed toy as leverage by playfully wrapping a hand around its neck and getting his fist ready to hit its face until you listen. he thinks he's being threatening but it's honestly hilarious (("babe, finish your homework or the plush gets it! I swear I'll do it!" "okay, okay! stop, Ken!")).

Your boyfriend is sure to bring you back to the store to buy new outfits on special occasions like anniversary's, halloween to get your shared baby a costume, etc.

When you both graduate from high school, he'll secretly dress the stuffed toy in a cap and gown of its own to surprise you with! Already emotional from completing a major milestone in your life, you'll get teary-eyed when you see the new outfit adorned on its body as it greets you on your bed.

If you two ever decide to have any children, you'll pass down your beloved token of appreciation as a reminder of your love to the next generation and to the next ♡

[angelicyouth]

Digital

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

⇢ synopsis: ❝In which your boyfriends never fail to make you smile whenever you go on your phone.❞

⇢ note: part of the [youth au] but can be read by itself!

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 1

⇢ 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.❞

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

“....-N…. Y/N..? Helloooo? Y/N!”

I jolt when I hear someone calling my name through the music I’m listening to. I take off my headphones and let it hang around the back of my neck, answering without looking away from the computer screen in front of me.

“My bad, what?” I question disinterestedly as the music continues to play faintly below my ears. The clicking of my mouse can finally be heard since I threw my headphones on for full immersion a while back.

“The guys are coming over, throw on some pants.”

I take my eyes away from the RPG that I’m currently playing and when I notice that my brother is wearing nothing but boxers and a graphic tee, I lazily lift an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He mocks as siblings typically do when he notices my condescending gaze and I roll my eyes at him, saving the progress I’ve made on my game.

“Clyde got that new video game we were talking about last week.” He continues to say as he lifts his body up from his laidback stance against my door frame, typing something on his cellphone. Probably the guys telling him that they’re on their way.

I hum a simple hmm in answer to him as I get up from my chair and stretch the kinks in my body after spending the past few hours sitting down.

"Oh yeah, do you know whose burrito is in the fridge?” My brother distractedly asks as I take my time walking to my closet to look for some shorts to throw on.

Similar to my brother, my current attire is just an oversized band tee and my underwear. On me, however, it reaches my mid-thighs. Dwarfing my body, I wear these types of shirts often to sleep as a makeshift pajama dress, meaning I forgo any bottoms since no one but my family sees me like this. Because of this, my brother and I wear each other's shirts, which is often the cause of our mom’s headaches when we fight over clothes.

“You know it’s mine.” I quickly glare at him as I pull the article of clothing out from its designated shelf.

I do this carefully so that I don’t disrupt the other pajama bottoms its in between because Lord knows that if I fuck up this area in my closet, I’ll carelessly handle my other clothing until the whole closet becomes a rat's nest.

It’s already messed up here so it shouldn’t matter if I do the same to everything else. I’ll clean it soon anyways… Not.

“Yep, I know. I already ate it.” He laughs, a shit eating grin on his face as he slams my bedroom door shut. The sound of his feet quickly hitting the floor can also be heard as he runs to wherever the fuck he decided to hide.

“STAN, YOU DICK!” I yell, pulling up my shorts in anger.

I grumble and pout to myself while I do a quick check in the mirror to make sure I’m presentable. I was looking forward to reheating my leftovers after getting in a good amount of progress on my game.

Why the hell do siblings touch shit that isn’t theirs? Ugh. And the audacity he has to directly ask me about it when he already ate it. If he's still hungry, I'll just give him a knuckle sandwich.

I throw myself onto my bed to check my phone since I went MIA for the past couple of hours that I was preoccupied with the gaming world. The date catches my attention and I grimace when I notice that tomorrow would be the first day of sophomore year. It’s easy to lose track of summer when this shitty town is covered in snow all year round. Hearing the front door slam open and multiple muffled voices overlapping, I bring myself downstairs to the living room and spot Clyde putting a disc into the gaming console in front of the television.

“Sup?” I call out to no one in particular with multiple variations of hey being thrown back at me.

I jump over the back of the couch and settle myself in between Kenny and Tweek, with Tolkien sitting to the right of the coffee addict. Kenny automatically pulls my legs up to settle over his lap, resting a hand on my calf as he fiddles with his phone with the unoccupied one.

“How the hell do you guys not have any cheesy poofs? What kind of household is this? I’ve been busting my balls for years waiting for this game to come out and when the day finally arrives, I can’t even enjoy it with the best snack ever?? I’d expect this from broke ass Kinny but not the Marsh’s!” Cartman complains as he follows the ever aloof Craig over to where the rest of us are lounging, stomping his feet from the kitchen to the dining room in a normal Cartman-like tantrum.

“Shut up, fatass! Stans ordering pizza so stop complaining before we put a limit to your slices!” Kyle threatens from the kitchen while Kenny and I roll our eyes.

“You’re welcome to leave.” I sarcastically mumble with my eyes still trained on Clyde setting everything up. He always looks really cute when he's concentrating.

“Oh shut up Y/N, this is your poorass pantry I’m talking about.” Cartman shoots back as he dramatically plops down on a seat at the dining table, his head down on the tabletop and his arms stretched out on either side next to Butters. I flash my middle finger at his pathetic display and see that Craig is sending him one too so I snicker when the black haired boy and I make eye contact.

“Instead of bitching, here's a suggestion. Why don’t you make your fat self useful for once and get some at the store then? You can even take it back to your house and just stay there for the rest of the night.” I snark back despite the sickeningly sweet tone of voice I adorn.

“Aye!” Fatass sits up and yells back at me before Kyle walks into the room, rolling his eyes.

“Dude. You can lay off the snacks for one night, can’t you? Cause you know, I’m pretty sure you have enough fat stored in your body to last you without any type of food for a few months and you’d still be alive.”

“Shut up, Craig!”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Loud, but this is just a typical night in with the boys. The boys, meaning Team Stan, Team Craig, and of course, Butters. We all hang out together as one but like any other group, there are cliques within it. I guess they formed when we were younger and would play games that required opposing teams having to go against each other.

Having to split, these are the groups that always formed when we played stuff like catch or basketball, and why the guys in each respective teams are a bit closer to one another as opposed to the other team. They naturally formed because Stan, Kenny, Cartman, and Kyle live near each other whereas Craig, Tweek, Tolkien, Clyde, and Jimmy live closer to one another.

Of course, I’m usually in my brother's “team” and this works out for us because Butters typically likes to sit our games out and play moderator instead.

Speaking of. My brother, Stan, and I are actually twins. Because of this, our parents decided to separate us and have Stan and I go to different schools when we got into elementary. They wanted to encourage us to be independent individuals and to make our own friends, instead of being comfortable with sticking together after we went to preschool together. Yes, we met all the guys and became friends with them when I still attended the same place as my brother, but my parents were worried that I wasn’t spending enough time with other girls my age.

Even though I went to a separate elementary school and middle school than the others, I still grew up and spent all of my time with them when we were outside of school. Because of this, I’m still as close to everyone else as they are with each other.

This year, however, my parents finally decided that we were old enough to make the decision of whether or not my brother and I wanted to finally attend the same school. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity to go to school with my older brother and our friends. Well, okay. It was more like I insistently begged them and they finally caved in and gave me the green light to transfer.

Gathered around the television on either the floor or the couches and with pizza in our faces, Kyle silently curses as he checks his phone.

“My ma wants me home early since tomorrow is the first day of school.” He informs us, wincing when he remembers the start of a new school year.

“Ack! I completely forgot!” Tweek’s eyes widens and twitches as he clenches his shirt in first day jitters.

“Oh gee, me too! But that means we’ll finally be able to go to school with you, huh, little buddy?” Butters nudges me with his elbow and I smile into the can of soda I’m drinking from.

"Yessss! I can’t wait! I’ll finally be able to meet the other schoolkids at South Park!” I beam, throwing my arms around the blonde and hugging him in euphoria.

Growing up with the boys and being the only girl, everyone has naturally grown to be rather protective over me as they see me as their pseudo-little sister. This meant that they constantly whisked me away from others our age and would promptly pull me away if I ever did something as simple as wave to someone outside of the group. They called it taking me away from the lame-o’s, as Cartman constantly reminded me.

Of course, I knew the other people that my friends are cool with like Timmy, Scott Malkinson, and Dovahkiin. They tag along with us from time to time and it’s a refreshing change of pace when they do.

“I’m also excited about the commute! Finally, I get to catch some more sleep in the morning because mom or dad don’t have to drive me thirty minutes just to get to North Park!” Cue me dramatically fake sobbing into Butters shoulders as he consoles me by petting my hair.

“There, there, buddy. You won’t have to worry anymore!” I giggle as Craig pulls me away from the little cutie.

“Lameee, I already see your ugoo face enough. I don’t need to see it at school either.”

"Shut up, Cartman. How do you think we’ve felt seeing your fatass in and out of school for all of our lives? That’s a decade too much.” Kyle tiredly says.

“Aye!”

“Well, I’m excited to finally see my bestie at school!” Clyde throws his arms around my shoulders from behind me. We giggle to each other in excitement as I place my hands on his arms.

“I’m going to get so much second-hand embarrassment when I finally get to see you try to flirt with a girl, Clydey.”

“Y/N! You wound me! Did you forget that I’m the most handsomest, most charming, and most smoothest guy in school—no. In all of South Park!” Clyde boasts while I continue to laugh, consolingly patting his arms in pity for his delusions.

“Besides, I wouldn’t think to do that anymore now that I have my baby girl going to school with me!” He says as he puckers up his lips and exaggeratedly makes kissing sounds towards me.

I’m still laughing as I lightly block his face from me. Clyde is always so silly and more sensitive than the guys (ahem, a crybaby, ahem), making him my partner in crime in stupid antics like this.

“Dude.” Stan pinches the space between his eyes and furrows his brows at the obnoxious flirting. The boys and I play flirt all the time for fun, but mostly to annoy my brother.

“You’re like this now, Stan, but wait until tomorrow. In a small town like Shit Park, a new student will be the talk of the school.” Tolkien slyly smirks, trying to get into the ravenette’s overprotective head.

“Oh shit. Fuck, I forgot. You’re fresh meat.” My brother stares at me uncomfortably, his face going pale at the overwhelming thought.  

“Leave him alone, guys… Besides, my princess will have her trusty knight by her side.” Kenny gloats.

When we were younger, there was a fantasy game we liked to play, involving a “Stick of Truth” that we fought for. Kenny chose to be a princess at that time to cheekily spend more time with me, another princess in the game. The pet name stuck and has been something he’s fondly called me from then on.

“More like mangy dog. You’re just going to drop her as soon as you see someone else with legs and a pulse, McWhoremick.” Craig deadpans, setting Kenny off as he clenches his jaw in anger.

“Anyways!” I cut them off before it escalates, “I’m most excited to see the poor girls you guys have dated!” I teasingly smirk.

“No. No, no! Respect my authoritah, Y/N! I'm seriously! Don’t come anywhere near those stupid skanks, nothing good ever comes out of girls!”

Cartman always gets defensive when his ex or any of the girls that the boys know gets brought up. Probably because the guys still clown him for the voicemail they got ahold of when we were kids, crying and threatening to commit suicide if she didn’t get back together with him. They like to joke around and say that they’d use “dying pig Cartman” the way those rappers use voicemails in their hit songs.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

As I lay in bed after the guys go home, I restlessly toss and turn, repositioning myself in bed for hours into the night. I can never sleep due to both excitement and anxiety before the start of any school year. Deeming all my attempts futile, I pull out my phone from under my pillow and text the group chat to see if anyone else was in the same boat as me.

GROUP CHAT (EVERYONE)

N/N: yoooo

Toolshed (Stan): nooooo (barf emoji)

N/N: aye! fucking RUDE >:(

N/N: imma stuff you back into mom’s womb

HumanKite (Kyle): LOL gross dude.

theCoon (Cartman): not as gross as ur mom’s jew vagina

HumanKite (Kyle): Shut the fuck up, fatass.

theCoon (Cartman): you know, its ironic you call me that when you have a fat bitch mom!

SuperCraig (Craig): idk cartman, your mom’s must be gaping to have been able to push a fat baby like you out

Mysterion (Kenny): LMAOOO tru dat

Mysterion (Kenny): phat pussy

theCoon (Cartman): AYE! at least my mom didn’t willingly fuck a soulless ginger like urs craig!

SuperCraig (Craig): (middle finger emoji)

Tupperware (Tolkien): Your mom literally did, Cartman…

HumanKite (Kyle): Fucking dumbass.

theCoon (Cartman): details, DETAILS

theCoon (Cartman): his parents are still together so she still does!

HumanKite (Kyle): Yeah, but that just means your poor mom has to work hard to make enough money to feed herself and 10 other people because you eat enough for an army.

theCoon (Cartman): shut up you fucking JEW!!!

N/N: i can’t sleep :(

Toolshed (Stan): no one cares lol

N/N: shut up

N/N: you know how theres always a twin who's less attractive, even when they're identical?

N/N: that's you, stanley

N/N: ur just bitter cause im the cuter twin

Toolshed (Stan): ur literally ugoo but i admire ur confidence i guess

Tupperware (Tolkien): I never get why you always insult each other's looks, you're literally twins

ProfChaos (Butters): poor buddy

ProfChaos (Butters): want me to hop on my switch? we can play animal crossing together until you get sleepy :3

Mosquito (Clyde): oooo, i can’t sleep too so i’ll also visit ur island :D

theCoon (Cartman): laaaame

theCoon (Cartman): kick these pussies out of the chat ffs

theCoon (Cartman): lets hop on our PCs and start an online campaign instead

FastPass (Jimmy): hop on this dick instead :P

Mysterion (Kenny): AYO??

Mosquito (Clyde): LOL, NO HOMO BRO???

FastPass (Jimmy): nah bro, all the homos (sunglasses emoji)

Mysterion (Kenny): AYEEEE

Toolshed (Stan): LMAOOO

FastPass (Jimmy): lmao wait no i was just kidding (crying emoji)

theCoon (Cartman): you guys are fucking idiots.

N/N: ewwww, with cartman?? who can be that desperate, even as a joke jimmy? (barfing emoji)

Mysterion (Kenny): want me to swing by N/N? i know a few ways to make you tired (winking emoji) (smirk emoji) (devil emoji) (tongue emoji)

SuperCraig (Craig): (middle finger emoji)

Toolshed (Stan): DUDE.

WonderTweek (Tweek): Want me to oo br ing you coffee eee tomo rrow Y/N?? ??

Tweek’s twitching often has him typing like this. He doesn’t bother fixing his typos since it’s not hard to make out what he says, anyways.

N/N: my gate is open butters :3

N/N: idk clyde, you trampled on my flowers last time.. >:(

N/N: ily tweek!! <3

Mosquito (Clyde): Y/NNNNN!!! T—T

FastPass (Jimmy): he did it on purpose too, Y/N

FastPass (Jimmy): i saw him

FastPass (Jimmy): i kept telling him not to

FastPass (Jimmy): he laughed like a maniac and everything while he did it

FastPass (Jimmy): he also threatened to chop down your trees

Mosquito (Clyde): LIEEEEES

Mosquito (Clyde): DON’T LISTEN TO HIM Y/N

Mosquito (Clyde): people are always trying to take me down because im HANDSOME so SHUT. UP!!!

Mosquito (Clyde): jealousy is a disease, jimmy, and i hope you get better soon because it looks UGLY on you!!!

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Despite sleeping late due to playing on my switch with Butters and Clyde, I wake up earlier than my alarm multiple times. Because of this, I decide to give up on going back to sleep when I notice that it's not that long until I should start getting ready anyways. I opt to pass the time on my phone instead, scrolling through social media like Coonstagram.

With my morning routine out of the way, I barge into my brother’s room without knocking to make sure he’s not still asleep so we’re not late to the bus stop… and also, to be annoying. After confirming that he is, in fact, awake when he throws a comic book at me, I go downstairs to eat some breakfast.

“I can’t believe you and Stan are already starting your second year of high school… Soon, you’ll be off to college like your sister and leave your father and I behind.” My mom laments as she places a plate of food in front of me.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’m pretty sure Stanley will still be living with you guys until he’s at least 35!” I smile sweetly at her while I spread butter onto my toast, as a muffled AYE! can be heard from upstairs. She tiredly sighs at us for getting onto each other's nerves so early in the morning but I continue to innocently eat my food.

“You remember what we talked about, right?”

“Hmmm..?”

“Even though you're going to school with your brother and the others now, I still want you to try to branch out into other things without them. You’re in high school now and I don’t want you to miss out on once in a lifetime opportunities and experiences because of the boys,” The brunette continues.

“Yeah mom, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll make new girl friends when I try out for sports. Maybe volleyball? Or basketball. I don’t know—something. I still haven’t decided yet.” I shrug around a mouthful of food.

“You know that's not what I mean, Y/N… Just think about at least trying to join, maybe, I don’t know. Cheer? We don’t care if you don’t make it, but at least just attend tryouts? Who knows, maybe you’ll like it.”

Ahhh, and there it is. Even after all these years, my parents are still trying to push me to be more independent from my brother and the boys by doing more female dominated activities.

“Pffffttt!” Shelley snorts behind a glass of orange juice and I glare at her, angrily stabbing at my poor eggs.

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be on campus, at your dorm or something? I bet she’s ditching classes, mom! Wasting all that college tuition!” I tattle annoyingly on my elder sister in spite.

“Shut up, TURD!” She voices over me, kicking the leg of my chair and making me pout even more.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When my brother and I walk to the bus stop, I’m still pouting at what my mom reminded me of. I get more upset when I think about how we have to take the bus, even though most of the guys know how to drive.

Admittedly, we’re not of age to even get our license yet but some of us have their driver’s permit. They learned a little earlier because all of our parents are pretty chill with us learning how to drive as South Park doesn’t get traffic at all. This eases their anxiety as there are barely any other drivers on the road.

It doesn't ease my anxiety though, which is why I never learned to drive. I mean, why would I need to when I have a servant—oops, I mean brother, who can? The only problem is that none of our parents have gotten any of the guys cars to freely use (except for richass Tolkien) and aren’t planning to until they can legally drive.

“Mmph mmmph mmph? (What’s up with you?)” Kenny asks me before pulling down his parka’s hood.

“I don’t know, man. She’s been pouting since breakfast. Just ignore her,” My brother shrugs in answer for me and I pout even more.

“Probably that time of the month,” Cartman snarks before Kyle punches him in the arm.

“Shut up, fatass.” He says so I seek comfort from the ushanka wearing teen for coming into my defense, hugging his arm and leaning my head against him so I can comfortably mope.

“Hey! I asked how you were first. Come here, Princess.” Kenny whines and makes grabby hands at me but before he can do anything, the bus pulls up. As I look around at the new faces sitting all around me, Kenny grabs my arm and pulls me to the seat beside him.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asks, putting his arm around me but I just shrug in response.

“Is it because you didn’t get enough sleep last night? You know you don’t need beauty sleep when you’re already so pretty. And Tweeks bringing you coffee, yeah? Just wait a few more minutes and you’ll be able to get your fix,” He gently offers but I just shake my head.

“Are you nervous for your first day? Don’t worry baby girl, daddy’s here.” He teasingly says while winking at me, and it works. I crack a smile because of how cheesy and ridiculous his words are and softly slap the hand that's on my shoulder, leaning my head against him for the rest of the ride.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

South Park High looks the same as it did on orientation when we got our class schedule, prior to the first official day of school. Even then, I’m not as nervous about transferring to a completely different environment since I have my boys with me.

Kenny still has an arm around me as he walks me to my locker, until Craig pulls him by the hood to take him off of me, choking him in the process.

“Fuck! You asshole!”

“Can any of you guys not get into trouble on our first day of school?” Kyle sighs with his eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose when he and the others get to us. I finally get my much needed coffee and hug Tweek out of appreciation.

“That’s like asking Cartman not to eat.” Clyde snickers to the guys, eliciting laughs all around and lifting my mood up even more.

“Aye!”

“Ngh! Whoever gets to the cafeteria first grabs us an empty table, right?” Tweek interrupts while we voice our confirmations, my arm wrapped around his lower back from our earlier hug as I sip on my warm cup of caffeine.

“I’ll pick you up after class for lunch, N/N.” Craig’s monotonous tone reaches me, leaving no room for a no as the others pick up conversation around us.

“You don’t have to! Isn’t your class at the other end of the school? I don’t want you to have to go through all that trouble for me.”

“Yeah, dude.” Stan side eyes him, having heard our exchange.

“You’re so short, I don’t want you to get lost in a sea of people and miss lunch.”

“Pffft, Craig! Even if I did get lost, I wouldn’t miss the whole lunch period.” I smile fondly at him, letting go of Tweek to adjust my backpack’s strap.

“Yeah, if anything, I can pick up Y/N.” Kenny pipes up as Craig furrows his brows at his interruption. Stan rolls his eyes at the both of them, deciding to leave the conversation and go talk to Kyle instead.

“We have the same class, you idiot.”

“And? Everyone knows I’m faster than you.”

“Says who? My legs are literally longer than yours and I’m the tallest of the group. One step from me is equal to, like, four struggling steps from you. Three if I’m being generous.”

“Ugh, you guys are annoying. I have the class before lunch with Clyde so we’ll just meet you guys there, okay? Sheeeeesh,” I make the decision for them.

“You rang, beautiful?” Clyde drops his prior conversation with Jimmy and Tolkien midway to nosely join ours at the mention of his name, leaning his arm on me like I’m an armrest.

“Shut up, Clyde.” The three of us say as I shove his elbow off of me.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When it’s finally lunch time, Clyde and I enter the cafeteria to see that a few of the guys managed to snatch a table for us so we head straight to the lunch line to grab some food. On our way there, we stop by a table and say hi to Jimmy, Scott, Timmy, and Dovahkiin.

“You go here now, baby Marsh?” Dovahkiin types out to me on his phone, an eyebrow raised.

“Yep! My folks finally decided to let me go to school with everyone!”

“Oh boy.”

“Hmmm? And what do you mean by that? I don’t like your tone, Dov.” I playfully shoot back.

“More trouble this year :p”

I laugh, “We’re not that bad! Actually… that’s valid. Whatever! You’re just jealous that you don’t get the attention of being the new kid now that I’m here!” I stick out my tongue at him and push down the bill of the hat he’s wearing to cover his eyes.

His melodic laugh can be heard and I smile, feeling proud that I was able to get a sound out of the notoriously mute Douchebag. I notice that a few other students look our way in surprise from the corner of my eyes.

I settle myself in between Craig and Kenny while Clyde takes a seat at the other side of the table between Tolkien and Tweek. The rest of the school day goes fine and the day after goes similarly. The third day, however, is different. It’s during one of our passing periods when I’m at my locker to switch out my books that it happens.

I share all of my classes with at least one of the guys so I usually have a buddy with me throughout the whole day. While Butters normally walks with me during this passing period, he had to use the bathroom and told me that he’d just meet me at class. When I close my locker door shut, a group of girls come up to greet me.

“Hi! My friends and I were wondering what your name is, new kid.” The black haired girl smiles at me. She’s really pretty and I can tell from that, her silky hair, and cute sense of fashion that she’s probably popular with others.

“Oh! Hi! My name is Y/N!”

“Cute name! I just wanted to formally introduce myself. My name is Wendy Testaburger. I’m the student body council president and co-captain of the cheer team,” I nod at her words, impressed. Holy shit, she’s only a sophomore and she was able to get people to vote for her for president?

“My name is Heidi Turner! It’s nice to meet you!” A girl with light brown hair introduces herself next. Her headband is so cute and unique with a flower sitting to the side of it, I’m in awe of her personal style and confidence.

“I’m Bebe Stevens! Stick with us and you’ll be fine, okay new kid? We’ll let you know which boys are a waste of your time!” The blonde giggles, twirling curly hair around her perfectly manicured finger.

I can’t help but to think that the aura she exudes is more mature. Maybe it’s because of the higher end attire she's sporting? Or maybe… it’s her rack..? Ah fuck, don’t look there, stupid! Eyes up, idiot! God dammit, this is all Kenny and Clyde’s fault!

“The name’s Rebecca McArthur but you can just call me Red! If you want to try out for cheer, let us know so we can tell you when our coach has a date set for tryouts!” Wait, are they all cheerleaders? The boys will be jealous of me once they find out about my new pretty friends hehe.

“We actually wanted to ask if you’d like to have lunch with us, too. Find us in the lunchroom if you ever decide to and feel free to sit with us! It doesn’t have to be today, but anytime you feel like it! We’ll see you around, okay?” Wendy invites me as the rest of the girl say their byes.

While being the new kid means that a good amount of people have been greeting me in the hallways or going up to me in class to introduce themselves, this was the first time that I’ve been invited to sit with someone for lunch. I’m so excited that I inform my lab partner of the news.

“no one new has invited me to sit w/ them at lunch since i came! :D” I write out in my notebook before sliding it across the two-person lab counter to my seatmate in science class.

“duh, it’s cause ur bro + his friends are super overprotective of you. no one can approach you even if they wanted to since you’re with them all the time :P” Dovahkiin writes back and I frown at this revelation.

“huh… that makes sense, i guess? oh god ew, i hope no one thinks that im dating any of them :x my brother?? CARTMAN?? vomit!!”

“its ok, you can tell anyone that im ur bf if they do :D” I softly hit his arm with the back of my hand even though I’m rewarded with his melodic snickering.

By the time lunch comes around, I’m giddy when I grab my food with Clyde. I tell him to go on ahead of me and he doesn’t question it, probably thinking that I want to stop by Timmy and the other’s table again. I don’t, however, and scan the room until I find the table that the girls are sitting at.

I sit next to Wendy and Bebe after I skip to their table, the ravenette patting the seat between them with a smile on her face. It feels nice talking to the girls as we get to know each other, with them asking me about how I’m adjusting to the school and what classes I have.

“We have another friend, her name’s Nichole, but she said she has to do something in the library today.” Red informs me and I soak up the information, enthusiastically nodding my head at her words.

“Speaking of Nichole, we actually noticed that you hang out with her boyfriend and his friends.” Bebe nonchalantly brings up as the girls all glance at one another.

“Oh, what! Wait, so that means your guy’s Nichole is the same one that's dating my friend Tolkien, then? No one else has a girlfriend that I know of,” I smile up at them.

“Mhmm, we actually noticed that you're really close to the guys,” She continues. The other girls seem interested too as they give me their undivided attention.

“Haha, yeah. They’re like my brothers!”

“Really? You just started going to school in South Park though?” They’re all surprised.

“Yeaaah, but I’ve known them all my life! I’ve actually lived in South Park all my life too. I just went to school in North Park until this year,” I say as I munch on my fries.

“How? Are you neighbors with one of them or something?”

“That, but I also went to preschool with them. If you guys have always been in South Park like me, we probably even went to the same preschool! I can’t remember shit from that long ago though so you guys probably don’t remember me too,” I shrug.

“Huh. I’m surprised that you guys kept in contact throughout the years then.” Wendy says to me in thought this time, the other girls nodding.

“Hmm, I can see why you'd say that. But my brother’s one of those dumbasses, so…”

“What?!” All the girls exclaim. Their unexpectedly loud response causes a casualty in my fries. I look at the fallen piece of food under the lunch table and mourn the tiny loss.

“So that makes you twins then..? Unless one of them flunked, resulting in you getting stuck in the same grade with him. It’s honestly believable with how dumb those guys are but we’ve gone to school with them all of our lives and we know that none of them have been held back a grade…” Wendy mumbles out and I laugh, agreeing with her statement.

“Yup, twins! I’m a Marsh!” I proudly boast, smiling wide with my teeth showing. Wendy chokes on her water and all the girls share a meaningful glance with her.

“Pfffft, oh man! We wanted to warn you about those dumbasses because we always saw you with them, but we just thought they got to you first and you were oblivious to who they were. I didn’t think you grew up that close with the guys, much less being related to one of them!” Bebe laughs at the unexpected turn of events.

I blush, flattered that they cared enough about a new girl like me to want to warn me about who they thought the ‘wrong crowd’ was.

“Not like you can say anything though, Bebe. You dated one of them,” Red scoffs, entertained at Bebe’s slowly reddening cheeks.

“That doesn’t count! Who even counts relationships from when they were in elementary school?!”

“Wait… Does this mean you’re the same Bebe that dated Clyde?” My entire expression does a complete 180 as I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Dude. You used him for shoes.” I continue, furrowing my brows at the mortified girl.

“I was just a selfish little kid! I didn’t know any better! At least I didn’t date Eric Cartman!” She throws Heidi under the bus in an attempt to divert the attention away from herself. I continue to stare at her, unamused.

“Well, Wendy and your brother dated on and off when we were younger!” My eyes widen as I turn my head to the person sitting on the other side of me.

“Aw, dude.” I say to her in a mixture of pity and disgust, the expression reminding the girls of when Stan would say it. If there were any doubts about my bloodline, this further confirmed it for them.

“I-I-It’s not like that anymore! I haven’t thought of him in that way since elementary school!” It’s Wendy’s turn to get red in the face and embarrassed.

“Yeah, it’s the other Marsh. Homegirl has a type~” Bebe snickers at the other girls but I don’t hear it, still in disbelief that my brother managed to date someone as pretty as Wendy, regardless if their relationship wasn’t legit due to their age.

Before anyone can say anything else, the bell signals the end of the lunch period and the disbelief remains throughout the day. I catch up to the guys outside of the lunchroom and they waste no time questioning me.

“What the hell, Y/N! Why’d you eat with those bitches?! I know it might be hard for you but I thought I warned you to stop being so stupid!” Cartman seems irritated as the other guys echo their sentiments at having seen me eating with the girls. No, their exes. I squint my eyes at my dumb brother and at the fatty.

“Hello? Y/N! Don’t tell me your weak ass got brainwashed in an hour?! Jesus fucking Christ, woman!” Fatass continues while shaking my shoulders. I roll my eyes and push his grubby paws off me.

“You’re an ass. Heidi’s such a sweet girl. I don’t know why I’m so surprised that you managed to fuck that up,” I tell him as we continue to walk in the hallways.

“Nuh-uh! She was the crazy bitch in the relationship! She manipulated me! She took advantage of all this,” He waves his hands over his body, “For her own selfish gain!”

“What is there to even gain from you? A few pounds?” The guys laugh and I fistbump Craig.

“And you! Bro. Brooo. Wendy? When will you surprise me for once and not embarrass me for being related to you?” I cross my arms while Kenny hugs me from behind, throwing his arms over my shoulders and smiling at Stan from over my head.

“Nah, she's nicknamed Testabitch for a reason, babe.” Kenny takes out the lollipop in his mouth to reply and I push his hand away from my face when he offers the sweet to me.

“She’s not your babe,” We hear from Craig’s deep voice as he eyes the blonde in disgust at his offering.

“Did Bebe say anything embarrassing about me?” Poor Clyde tugs on my jacket to get my attention. I offer a sympathetic smile and hug the jock, breaking out of Kenny’s hold.

“Don’t worry Clydey, she seemed embarrassed that I knew about her using you for shoes.”

“Don’t hug him for being a fucking simp, Y/N. It’s his fault for being a dumbass. The only thing that bitch is good for is her fat rack.”

“Shut up, fatass.” Of course, Kyle is the one who replies.

“Shit, right? I couldn’t stop staring at them!” I turn my head towards Eric to say.

“Y/NNN!” Clyde whines in betrayal and I pet his head in apology.

[angelicyouth]

Treehouse

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader

⇢ genre: high school ; social media AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝Low on weed, you decide to take a chance and hit up your brother's local drug dealer.❞

BONUS:

[angelicyouth]

Allegro

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x musician!reader

⇢ synopsis: ❝Ever the loyal and supportive boyfriend, it isn't a surprise when your significant other tags along with you and your band on your widely anticipated world tour.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

You're the main vocalist and the face of a very popular pop-punk band so as a multi-talented musician, you either perform choreo ((for the more pop-leaning tracks)) while you're singing or have an electric guitar strapped around your body for you to play lead guitar.

Forever grateful of your fans and wanting to grant them the absolute best performances of their entire lifetime, you often find yourself occupying the dance studio in your company's building to practice your choreo until the late hours of the night.

Your perfectionist tendencies causes you to have tunnel vision so Kenny will always find the time to bring you dinner halfway through practice, forcing you to eat your favorite takeout with him or whatever cravings you have for that day ((being exhausted, your boyfriend is more than happy to feed you! and even if you're fine to do it on your own, he'll insist!)).

When you're being particularly stubborn, the blonde will unplug the speakers and spread his limbs out like an annoying starfish in the middle of the dance studio so that you can't practice which forces you to eat ((unless he's satisfied enough, he won't let you resume)).

As you're eating, he'll place your body on his lap and either retie your loose hair or take the time to weave together your soft but damp locks and braid them away from your face ((he's made it a habit to carry around spare hair ties and cute clips to pin your hair away from your face if you ever need it)).

His long fingers in your hair is extremely cathartic, the soothing motions causing you to fall limp into his warm embrace and sometimes causes you to fall asleep against his firm chest.

He'll also pepper your face with a multitude of kisses despite you complaining about how sweaty you are but he doesn't give a fuck, he'll complain back about how much he missed his pretty girl from the few hours that you two were apart.

You'll roll your eyes every time he yells out "WATER!", the blonde forcing you to rehydrate in between sets of songs ((before he hands you a cold water bottle to sip on, he'll drink from it himself because he wants you to get an indirect kiss. it doesn't make much sense because he'll always command you to give him a kiss before you resume practice anyways, so)).

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The heavy bass of your song loudly reverberates throughout the entire dance studio, your chest quickly heaving up and down as you go through the motions deeply ingrained in your body. Every move you make is fluid as it creates a visual masterpiece on time to the beat of the melody.

As the melodious instruments slowly begins to fade out, Kenny's voice is deep as he calls out to you and disturbs the peace in the suddenly quiet room. "Come here."

His voice is firm—commanding in its tone as he leaves absolutely no room for questions or refusal. Obediently, you take the few steps to close the space between the two of you as your hands reach out to latch onto his larger ones once you're close enough. Your heart begins to erratically beat within your chest, but not because of your earlier exertion—it's in eager anticipation of what's to come as the blonde intertwines your fingers together to roughly pull you onto his lap.

Once you're properly situated, there's a teasing smirk on his handsome face as he huskily murmurs to you. "Show me what you learned, baby."

Every word that escapes from his mouth casts light puffs of air against the shell of your ear and causes your body to involuntarily shudder. You can feel a cacophony of eager goosebumps to arise across your arms, the blonde lazily trailing his hands as they caress every dip and curve of your body.

His muscular arms then wrap around your waist, the cool metal of his ring adorned fingers lightly skimming against the bare expanse of your skin from underneath your tank top. Your eyes begin to lightly flutter shut at the sensation created by his leisurely pace until all of the air in your chest gets suddenly knocked out from the forceful way his soft pair of lips begin to devour yours.

You can't help the soft mewls that he masterfully orchestrates from escaping your throat with the dizzying way his tongue coaxes yours to a heated battle of dominance. He's relentless in his teasing as he he draws out every harsh bite on your lower lip and every swipe of his tongue against yours, his delighted smirk pressed against your slicked lips.

“Like music to my ears. Just make a voice recording when we fuck—I promise it’ll sell out.” He smirks at your vocal pleasure, your hand weakly lifting up to swat him on the shoulder as you whine at his comment.

Placing a hot and heavy hand in between the smooth expanse of your thighs, a high-pitched whimper echoes between you two as your breaths mingle with one another. Your lungs desperately take reprieve from your separation until a sob gets stuck into your throat when his fingers slowly begin to collect your steadily leaking arousal.

He chuckles against the expanse of your sweat-sheened neck, the puffs of air escaping the pretty pink of his lips hitting your slicked skin as he creates a trail of vivid reds and deep purples in its wake. "You're so fucking wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet."

He teases the entrance of your heat, lazily circling the tip of his finger around it as his tongue makes magic. Your boyfriend keeps the heated point of contact as he wetly trails his mouth to worship your breasts, heated words of praise mumble against your body like a mantra.

Every so often, he'll lightly drag his teeth against the nub of your nipple on his way to create deep imprints of his teeth against your skin. They mix along beautifully with his possessive marks of love, a smug smirk pressed against the bruises whenever the blonde's cerulean eyes catches sight of his masterpiece.

His back leans against the floor to ceiling mirrors adorning the wall of the room, vapor slowly consuming the cool glass as your heated arousal creates fog that steadily climbs up the surface. "Look at yourself enjoying just my fingers—you're fucking beautiful.

You tightly clench around him as you desperately grind your body against the palm of his hand, his fingers shooting out to firmly grasp your chin when your head begins to loll dangerously to the side and your eyelashes begin to lightly caress the soft skin of your heated cheeks. "Eyes up, babe. Need you to watch how fucking greedy you get when you take me in."

Not wanting to disappoint, you force your half-lidded eyes open as you watch yourself being reflected from the glass panels of the mirrors surrounding the two of you. The lewd image greeting you back is of you looking absolutely wrecked, your eyes catching sight of how the sliver of light cast from the luminescence of the dance studio glints against your tears steadily leaking out.

It's absolutely erotic—the obscene sounds of slicked skin against skin and quick pants heavily consuming the otherwise desolate room.

"So tight and pretty—all for me. You're mine, N/N. And only mine." You babble in confirmation to his heated praises, your words dangerously slurred as your legs begin to violently shake from the electric shocks of pleasure deeply coiling throughout your stomach.

"Is my pretty girl going to come for me? Yeah? Then come all over my fingers—show me what it's going to feel like when I have my cock inside of you." He keeps pumping his longer fingers until the spasms overtaking you body stops, his eyes possessively watching as they go in an out of your heat as they deliciously drag along your slicked walls.

When your body falls limp into his warm embrace, he pushes his digits against your swollen limps as you obediently suck at the intrusion. "Good girl. See how fucking good you taste."

You moan around his fingers as you taste yourself, the vibrations of your voice and your light suction causing his possessive eyes to go even darker from want as he removes them from the wet cavern of your mouth and into his. "Fuck, you taste as good as you look."

Your body suddenly jolts to attention from where your face is burrowing itself inside the safe solace of his neck, desperately trying to catch your breath when the blunt head of his length slowly drags itself against your slicked folds.

"You ready?"

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

During tour, the both of you will sneak out of the hotel for late night dates as you explore and take in the new sights of whatever foreign country you're currently playing at ((your boyfriend will do research while you rehearse at the venue so that you can make the most of your time!!)).

The blonde always wears your merch and its gotten to the point that he also gifts them to your guy's friends and family whenever there's a special occasion ((they'll always roll their eyes when he hands them a clumsily wrapped present because they already know what's going to be in there—each one of them have at least 5 signed albums from you by now)).

Kenny never fails to make posters for your shows as he takes the time to seriously decorate them with an abundance of colorful stickers and glitter ((the cameraman at the venue always points the equipment towards your boyfriend at least once so that his enthusiastic support can be shown on the big screen for you and all of your fans to see)).

Your fans absolutely adore your boyfriend because he's always feeding them with additional content—he'll upload behind-the-scenes stuff such as photos and videos of you!

On his Coonstagram account, he'll upload a picture of you cutely dozing off on the ride back to the hotel with your head cuddled against his shoulder as the caption states: sleepy baby had fun today!! thank you for being an awesome crowd :)

Or maybe he'll post a photo of you falling asleep while you're perched on a chair, his ring-adorned hands affectionately propping your head up as your stylist does your makeup with the caption: can't hang gang!! just kidding, this pretty girl is jet lagged :P

Your fans went absolutely wild over your precious relationship when a picture of him hand-feeding you snacks as your hairdresser beautifully curls your soft locks of hair appears across their social media feeds, the caption reading: my pretty girl loves your snacks *country name*!! :D

Kenny has his signature on your microphone ((he was super excited and honored when you asked him to sign it the day that you got it, the blonde clingy and never leaving your side for the rest of the night after your request)) but on the body of your guitar, there's a cute doodle that he drew of the both of you with a little heart in between them.

If you dye your hair ((whether for personal preference or for work)), he'll have a streak of the same color in his own field of blonde hair to match! ((speaking of work, your manager loves to bring him along when you have photoshoots because he brings out your best expressions!))

You asked Kenny to choose the color of your in ear monitors and you surprised him with getting the initials of his name on one of them and your relationship's anniversary date on the other.

It's not uncommon for people to recognize your boyfriend when he's out in public—he doesn't mind talking to them or getting his pictures taken with them if they ask but if someone on the streets calls out to him but are kind of unsure on how they recognize him, he'll fuck with them and the interaction will go like this:

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

"Hey! I think I recognize you but I don't remember where." "Oh? So you watch porn?"

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Eventually, he'll open up a YouTube account where he'll make a series on his channel, uploading videos of the two of you in your hotel and trying local snacks.

When you have free days in between schedules while you're on tour, he'll gift your fans with vlogs of your dates at different cities ((his editing style is very chaotic which is amusing to viewers even if they didn't find him because of your band)).

He's made it a personal goal to visit all of the Disney Parks in the world and all of the McDonald's too so that he can make reviews of the region exclusive things that you can't get anywhere else ((it's also a goal of his to fuck in every country/city you guys go to)).

Once you've seen all of the 7 Wonders of the World, he'll post the pictures he took of the two of you during your visits and a selfie of just you at the end of the slide saying that you're the only wonder of his world.

With how busy you get, quickies are a norm ((your boyfriend loves this because it feeds into the exhilaration of potentially getting caught in the otherwise public spaces you both do it at)) and also means you guys are in the mile high club ((aka fucking when you guys are flying in an airplane)).

Being busy also means you take naps whenever you can so it's pretty convenient to have a boyfriend you can always cuddle into ((it's always a nice surprise when you wake up to see that Kenny doodled something on your arm)).

But if you have time in between your schedules when you're back at home, he'll surprise you with appointments he made at the spa or at the nail salon so that you can wind down and relax ((he accompanies you, of course. he'll have basic care pedicures and manicures so that he can sit next to you and so that you can talk about mundane things with one another. you'll usually finish later than him since you get color or a design so he'll duck out of the shop real quick to grab you both coffee or something. feeling newly rejuvenated, you guys will always get food right after!!)).

If there isn't time for the aforementioned, he'll offer you massages with his own hands ((which slowly turns into a sexual encounter if you're not too tired)) and will try to learn how to do nails so he can do them for you when you're unable to get them professionally done! ((if he does them, he'll paint on his initials without telling you))

On some occasions ((this is very rare but sometimes hotels get fully booked when certain concert dates coincide with other local events)), your management will book your band a few rooms with double beds instead of granting you your usual private rooms. The guys absolutely hate when this happens and will do whatever they can to fight over who has to share a room with you and Kenny.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

"Why the fuck do your dark circles look even worse than usual, Marsh? You look shittier than Cartman on his bad days, which is saying a lot." Craig snickers when Stan trudges his tired body towards their rehearsal noticeably late, his raven-colored hair messily tousled atop the crown of his head and a giant pair of sunglasses sitting on his face.

Kyle just rolls his eyes at how dramatic his best friend is being with his outfit, the oversized shades making him look like he's hungover when he isn't. But Stan didn't give a fuck—it's his manager's fault for forcing him to room with the stupid lovebirds.

"Why do you think? I shared a room with these two inconsiderate fucks." He grumpily mumbles, his downturned lips sipping on his caffeinated beverage.

If they have a problem with me getting to practice late because I needed coffee beforehand then they can just kiss my fucking ass, the ravenette pettily thinks.

Clyde snickers, "Rookie mistake. That's why I always bring earplugs or headphones, dude."

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You guys want to have something physical as memorabilia of the places you visit together so you'll either decide on whether you guys will collect shot glasses, keychains, or magnets for every new country/city you go to.

Of course, your boyfriend is musically talented so you'll sometimes bring him out on stage for funsies and have him shred on a guitar for a minute or something as a special surprise treat for your fans ((if any of your band members are injured or sick, it isn't a problem as Kenny can easily fill in for them until they're good to go!! attending your rehearsals and being your #1 fan has its perks)).

Kenny keeps all of the physical copies of your concert tickets and VIP/backstage passes, pinning them to a cork board that's hung in his room and surrounded by pictures of you by yourself or the two of you together.

In perfect condition and carefully tucked away in a box under his bed are all the cassette tapes and CD's that you burned your music onto when you and your band were first experimenting and writing songs ((he's been there for everything—he used to help the band set up at venues when you guys weren't big enough to afford a roadie and he used to drive you guys to your auditions for major record companies)).

It doesn't matter how long you guys have been dating—he'll never forget to give you a pre-show kiss for good luck ((it's a ritual)) and give you flowers after you finish a show ((it didn't matter if he was broke, he'd just pick it from the wild)).

He also likes to take polaroid pictures of you at every show you perform at and writes down the date on it for memories! ((he'll decorate it with stickers/doodles and keep them in an album for safe keeping))

Whenever he sees band merch when he's out and about ((whether it's a knock-off or official)), he'll excitedly send you pictures of them!! ((being with you from even before the beginning of your career, it still doesn't quite register in his head of how famous you are even when you're years down the line with your success))

His absolute prized possession, though, is a pendent hanging on the silver chain around his neck of your first ever guitar pick from when you started learning how to play as a kid ((he never takes it off, not since you gave it to him)).

You're always a conversation topic for him, the blonde always bragging to others about his very cool girlfriend ((the guys often get annoyed because dude, they grew up with you, too. and some of them are even in the same damn band. they already know, Kenny. you don't have to tell them for the millionth time)).

If you guys ever decide to have kids, he'll absolutely love telling them about how cool their mom was back in the day ((you still are, he emphasizes)) and he'll tell them stories of your career as their nightly bedtime stories ((you'll be your kid's ice breaker once they start going to school but not without Kenny teaching them about clout chasers first))♡

[angelicyouth]

Saccharine

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x barista!reader

⇢ synopsis: ❝He didn't know why he kept coming (he's lying—he definitely does) and he didn't know why he kept fucking up with making himself look like a complete ass in front of her.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ [AO3 link]

Stan Marsh is staring, unabashedly at that

And he knows he is.

It’s all the ravenette has been doing since the day that the guys spontaneously decided to set up their laptops and textbooks at the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop closest to their university’s campus. With midterm season quickly approaching, they were desperate to find a place that wasn’t crowded with other stressed out students and could seat all of them for some last minute studying (their group of childhood friends was pretty damn big—it also didn’t help that Cartman counted as three whole people, the fucking fatass).

Even when exams were over, the group began to frequent the place in between classes and nights after the clubs or bars when they needed to find a place that was open until the late hours of the night and could provide them some sort of nutrition to soak up the abundance of alcohol in their stomachs. It honestly seemed like the group single-handedly kept the business going as Butters absolutely adored the freshly baked confections prettily sitting behind the glass display case and even Tweek appreciated their house blend of coffee beans.

But today, Stan Marsh has come to the café on his own for the very first time.

He knows that he probably looks like a suspicious creep as he loiters in front of the glass windows adorning the front of the coffee shop, taking long drags from his cigarette in a desperate attempt to soothe his nerves before he can muster up the courage to walk in. It’s his second one (obviously, he’s been delaying like a damn coward) and not because he has social anxiety or a fear of public spaces when he’s alone, but because he can’t take his eyes off of a particular distraction that has greedily taken up his undivided attention these past few months.

You.

The mesmerizing way your slender hands confidently go through the familiar motions deeply ingrained in your body to create the most delicious beverages. The captivating expression on your face when you greet customers as the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the window gently caresses your face, further accentuating your soft features and the pretty pink of your lips whenever you smile. 

The melodious lilt to your voice every time you part your plump lips, the corners of your mouth cutely quirking up as the cadence and intonation of your every word exudes a hypnotic effect to those listening. The enchanting way you seamlessly handle difficult customers, your patience and caring virtue creating a charisma that people can only spend years trying to learn and recreate.

However, it’s not the well-welcomed fact that Stan found you pretty fucking hot that has him constantly distracted (Okay, he’s fucking lying. It’s definitely partly due to this but it’s not the only reason). The ravenette is unable to concentrate whenever he’s within your immediate vicinity because of the endless stream of lollipops that you go through during your shifts.

You never waste any time after finishing a sucker before your hand reaches into the pocket of your apron to unwrap another, quickly replacing the lone stick in your mouth with whatever crystal-flavored sweetness got blindly picked. Whenever he’s occupying the establishment of your workplace with the guys, his body has become unwillingly conditioned to cast you a lingering glance whenever he hears the tell-tale sound of a wrapper being unwrapped.

When the bell dangling over his head happily chimes as he pushes the door open, he immediately regrets his solo visit when he clumsily trips over the welcome mat on the floor and barely manages to send a poor grandma flying. His heated cheeks quickly develop a vivid shade of red when all of the patrons of the café are not-so-subtly gawking at him for being a walking shit show on legs, his head lowered in complete embarrassment as he joins the line of waiting customers.

Looking up at the neatly written and aesthetic menu of the coffee shop, he can’t help when the skin between his eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. He knew English, yeah. But he didn’t drink coffee enough to know what every combination of letters meant, feeling as if he was trying to decipher the dead Latin language as his eyes painfully squinted.

He could’ve gotten a simple hot chocolate or a frappuccino but he didn’t want to give you a bad impression—that he was a grown man getting a caffeinated milkshake unless one of the guys were here to order it for him like they always did.

He wanted to impress you, damn it, he stubbornly thinks before his eyes shift and he sees you staring straight at him.

You’ve got an eyebrow quirked up even though the rest of your pretty face is devoid of any other emotion, your fingers loosely holding the stick of your lollipop. Your slicked lips wrap around the hard candy as you pop it out of your mouth, the action creating an almost obscene noise that causes Stan to nervously swallow in an effort to ignore the anxious bile that was rising up in his throat.

After languidly licking a long stripe against the vermillion-colored shell, your lips part to speak. “I said: what can I get for you today, sir?”

The ravenette’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly for a stuttered second, his mind panicking at the humiliation quickly flooding his entire body. “I–uh… I’ll have a caramel… Thingy.”

Stan internally screeches at how fucking stupid he sounds, his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides. Your hands automatically move to punch in the order as the teen opens his mouth to clarify, “I’ll have a grande or something.” 

You lift an eyebrow again in a way that makes the ravenette feel so judged as the corner of your lips begin to quirk up in amusement, Stan hurriedly cutting you off before you can respond. “Oh fuck, was that right? Was it supposed to be a venti..?”

The front of your body leisurely leans against the counter separating the two of you in mirth, your elbows planted on the marble countertop as your palms caress your cheeks. “This isn’t a Harbucks, dude.” 

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He nervously laughs, quickly trying to correct his incorrect lingo. “Right! Right… Just get me a medium… Or something.”

“Name?” Your voice comes out in a lazy drawl, your eyes shining in amusement as you poise your hand ready in the air with a marker to write on the plastic cup belonging to your store. 

“Uh. Tony! Yeah, Tony.” Stan winces, internally admonishing himself for panicking and giving a fake fucking name. He wonders why his mother ever let him out of the house if her son was this fucking dumb.

“Alright, Tony. Your drink will be ready at the pick-up counter. Have a nice day.” The ravenette’s brain lags more than it usually does when you brightly present him with a pretty smile, your pearly white teeth making an appearance.

And when your coworker has to call out the fake name almost ten times before Stan belatedly realizes that it's his order that’s been ready for a while now, he can’t help but to snicker when his eyes skim over your cute penmanship. The neat scrawl in black ink makes him smile to himself throughout his lectures for the rest of the day, his friends giving him weird looks whenever he laughs to himself.

Toe-knee :P

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

That was the first time Stan Marsh has ever dropped by the coffee shop alone before his afternoon classes. But the first time he visits by himself during the night, he’s running from the cops.

Ever since that admittedly embarrassing encounter, Stan grew increasingly greedy with making solo trips to the café before his classes just to catch sight of you. The few words you both exchange whenever he visits never fails to make him grin dopely like an idiot for the rest of the day (Kyle’s words, not his). The ravenette even began to prioritize seeing you even if he woke up late and wouldn’t get to his lecture in time if he dropped by beforehand.

It has also become a private joke between the two of you as he gives you a fake name that you purposely misspell every single time he orders, the ravenette trying something new from the menu whenever you two meet. Written alongside your doodles, some of his favorite ones were:

Caesar (Seezur)

Jerry (Jarie)

Michael (Mykole)

Christopher (Kristoefur)

Miles (Myals)

It’s already like a habit to take careful precaution when stepping over the welcome mat when he slips through the front door (there was a corner of it that didn’t lay completely flat) and weaves through the tables. He catches the moment you spot him and offers you an attractive smile of his own before his rushing form disappears into the gender neutral bathroom.

This is the image that greets you when you loudly kick open one of the doors of the three stalls inside the restroom, the ravenette uncomfortably curled in on himself as his feet stand above the closed toilet lid. You lean against the tiled wall of the restroom as he sends you an awkward smile before he realizes the situation.

“Wait—What the fuck! How’d you open the goddamn door?!” He yelps as his hands scramble to reach out and yank your form inside the small space with him.

“What the hell are you doing?” You quirk an eyebrow as you watch him slam the stall door shut, his hands trying futilely to properly lock the silver metal.

You roll your eyes at the painful attempts of the ravenette, shoving his protesting body aside when he repeatedly fails as you harshly kick the lock shut with your booted foot. “It’s fucked up. You have to force it for—”

Your words are cut off when Stan roughly pulls you onto his lap, your chests pressed against one another as he plants both of his feet against the flimsy door for extra precaution from the unreliable lock. “Cops are after me. My dumbass friends got caught tagging the subway so we all split up when we booked it.”

His voice is low as he explains, your body involuntarily shivering as the close proximity causes every word that leaves his mouth to lightly hit the shell of your ear. Muscular arms automatically wrap around your waist when you hear the bathroom door open, the sound of a staticky voice relaying information from a walkie talkie and alerting you both that the police were inside.

“Found one at the City Wok on 5th street—a larger teen with brown hair, over.” Stan rolls his eyes because of course Cartman's fat ass stopped by for some fucking food while running away from the goddamn police.

A smirk curves along your lips when a sly yet very bold idea pops up in your head, your arms lifting up to wrap around the broad shoulders of the worried teen. You allow a giggle to escape from your lips, the heightened sensation of warm air against his skin causing the ravenette underneath you to tense up.

Ever so slowly, you angle your face just a bit towards his and allow your lips to lightly skim along the side of his neck. His body shudders when you leisurely trail upward, your tongue escaping from the wet confines of your mouth to languidly lick along his ear as a sharp breath of air escapes from the parted lips of your loyal customer.

His larger hands tighten their grip around your waist in warning as the officers begin to check the empty stalls for their suspects, a mischievous smirk appearing on your face before you gently nibble on the lobe of his ear and around his earring. The chest against yours begins to quickly rise and fall at your heated ministrations as your fingers tug on the tousled locks of raven-colored hair on his head, your lips wetly mouthing along the length of his neck before suddenly biting down.

His body jolts before the quick suction of your mouth causes a breathy moan to slip out of his mouth, your tongue gently caressing the places of abuse as you create a trail of vivid reds and deep purples to blossom on the previously blank canvas. You find delight at the reaction you elicit as a giggle escapes your slightly parted lips, your breath deliciously hitting his slicked skin and prompting a cacophony of goosebumps from the sensation.

You can hear the cops knock on each stall door before they open them when you begin to ground your body against the slowly hardening member underneath you, forcing your mouth to continue with making a multitude of possessive marks so as to not make a sound. When the flimsy barrier behind you shakes from their fists coming into contact with the cool material, your hips don’t stop your rhythmic motions when you breathily answer. 

“Occupied.” Sounding as wrecked as he was feeling, Stan’s fingers reach underneath the hem of your uniformed button-up so that his cool fingers could lightly skim against your bare sides.

“Sorry!” They politely call out before you hear their slowly disappearing footsteps tapping against the tiled floor of the bathroom as they finally exit.

As soon as the door behind them loudly shuts close, the air in your chest gets suddenly forced out when a ring-adorned hand roughly grabs onto your chin to force your lips against his. It’s controlling, dominating at every swipe of his tongue against yours and every harsh bite on your lower lip.

He has full control and he’s confident in himself as he forcefully orchestrates every soft mewl that escapes from your throat, his smirk delightedly pressed against your gasping mouth as your arousal desperately weeps at the heady actions of the usually clumsy teen. His hold over your face and your waist is firm, ironclad in its possessive grip over your squirming body.

“What happened, Princess?” The deep baritone of his voice beautifully mixes with his lust-induced huskiness as he teases you for your earlier bravado, a smug grin curving along his attractive face.

Your mouth opens to snarkily respond but your moment is forcefully stolen from you as he brings two of his longer fingers past the soft barriers of your slicked lips. Obediently sucking around his digits, he delves back to greedily indulge himself in your already bruised and numbed mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.” You whimper around the filthy way he harshly sucks on your tongue, chasing your taste as a string of saliva connects the two of you when he parts from your lips.

You whine at the loss before he immediately silences you by placing a hot and heavy hand against the skin of your inner thighs from underneath your skirt, static shocks of pleasure erupting along the depths of your stomach as his fingers collect your steadily leaking arousal. A low yet throaty chuckle resounds from in between you, cutting through the both of your breaths mingling with one another as your lungs take desperate reprieve from your separation.

“You like that? You want more?”

You feel drunk in pleasure as you nod, a dense cloud of arousal overcast your bodies as the teen underneath you sensually rolls his thumb against the sensitive nub of nerves. The sound of you crying out is feverish and desperate, almost feeling surreal from the overwhelming sensations attacking you at once.

“What do you say?”

You’re desperate as you beg, “Please!” 

“Good girl. Wish I could eat you out—bet you’d taste as good as you look, sound, and smell.” He mumbles against the length of your neck, the lewd sounds of his lips caressing your skin cutting through sharply in the air.

The intense assault from multiple places at once causes your head to spin, his larger hand pinching the nub of your nipple and massaging your chest while he teasingly circles the entrance of your aching heat. You feel unbearably overstimulated—sharply aware of every touch across your trembling body even though he hasn’t really done anything, yet.

“Need you around my cock. Can I, babe?” Stan punctuates every word with a thrust from the two fingers inside of you, your arousal clenching around the way he slowly drags them against your slicked walls.

You clumsily nod, your knees violently shaking in pleasure as he pushes away the thin fabric of your lace panties and teasingly drags his blunt head along your weeping folds. “Come on, pretty girl. I know you can take me.”

A sob gets stuck in your throat when you wail out loud, the ravenette fluidly pitching his hips forward until he’s fully burrowed in your tight heat. “Fuck, just look at you.”

Your moans are wet and broken, your walls deliciously stretched that you can barely breath before he begins to roughly thrust into you. It’s deep, almost too much as the sounds of your moans beautifully mix together in the quietness of the desolate room.

A larger hand grabs a handful of your silky locks from the base of your head, tugging you out of the solace of his sweat-sheened neck. “Focus on me, babe.” 

You hold eye contact with him as he showers you in praise, your body desperately fighting to keep your eyes open every time they slowly flutter shut to keep hearing his words. “That’s it. Look at you—you look like you were made to take me.”

A hand caresses the side of your heated cheek when your head starts to dangerously loll to the side, tears rapidly leaking down the corners of your eyes as his thrusts become more erratic. It's too much.

You can’t focus. Can’t think—

The both of you moan in synchronized pleasure as you spasm around him, squeezing his length as the both of you reach your climax. His hands return to your waist, firmly holding you down so that you can take all of him as he releases inside of you. 

You weakly collapse against his chest as you fall into his warm embrace, your head fuzzy as he places a soft kiss against your forehead. His hands are gentle as he pushes the stray locks of damp hair away from your face, lightly tucking them behind your ear as he mumbles heated praises against your lips.

It's quiet as the both of you come down from your highs, getting your breaths under control in the intimate space the two of you have blissfully created.

“My name is Stan. My actual name, for real this time.” A handsome smile curves against his attractive features, an overwhelming warmth coiling around your stomach at the soft expression and his low voice.

“Stan…” You smirk as your mouth sounds out his name, something to finally go with the face that you’ve been pining after for these past few months. 

Your hands blindly reach into your apron, Stan watching as your hands tremble when you slowly unwrap a lollipop. Sticking it past your swollen lips, your tongue wraps around it before you pull it back out with a loud pop! sounding between you.

Pressing a kiss against the hard shell of the candy, you smirk against the flavored-crystal before placing it into the ravenette's willing one.

“Ready for round two?” 

[angelicyouth]

Youth ; Chapter 15

⇢ 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.❞

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

The shrill sound of the telephone wakes up the sleep deprived group of teens slouching in on each other for more comfort. The rickety chairs that have been more or less their tentative homes in the recent days squeak and groan at every movement of their too-large bodies as they shift to forced consciousness. 

Their bleary eyes scream at them when they fight off the last dregs of sleep desperately begging to bring them back into its embrace, the glowing numbers of the clock hanging on the wall announcing to them that the time is now currently 2:48AM. Tired hands come up to their faces, languid in its motion as it takes a couple of times to direct the appendage to wipe at their sleep encrusted eyes when it repeatedly misses its intended target.

Hearing the muffled words coming in through the transparent window separating the boys from the detectives at their desks, Stan immediately shoots up in his seat when he hears my name being tossed around. He shushes the tired groaning of the others, bringing a hand up as a nonverbal command to keep their bodies still.

Results.

Phone tracking.

Location.

Now.

This is the last thing the elder Marsh hears before he clumsily heaves his body up, hands blindly reaching for his jacket to throw onto his rushing form as he runs out of the double doors leading to the outside world of the police department. 

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A sea of luxurious silk linen lightly caresses every curve of my body, the softness of the mattress surrounding my form as I lay in the depths of its smooth embrace. I’m seated upright in the temporary fortress that I’ve woken up in since the day of my abduction—a four poster queen sized bed with a canopy of gentle white, the soft material cascading down into billowing curtains over the metal rods that support the structure.

Shackled around my ankles are a cool metal, heavy in its weight and linked to the bedposts at the base of the two rods in front of me. Higher above the swollen, red skin that’s been uncomfortably chaffed into tenderness from my confines is nothing but a babydoll dress made up of black lace adorning my frame.

To erase anything from your old life, they had said.

Sick pervert, I had thought back in discontent.

My wrists are currently screaming in searing pain, the bones that make up my non-dominant hand dislocated and mangled beyond belief as I forcibly slip it free from the rough texture of the ropes that bind them together. I will myself with all of my might to not pass out from my self-inflicted agony as my head becomes increasingly light, the mounting dizziness forcing black spots to teeter into the edge of peripherals.

Body trembling from the excruciating torment, I can feel my perspiration begin to lightly bead against my hairline as I force my shaking hands to bring the thick cord back around my wrist to keep up the illusion of detainment. My throat tightens around itself as I force the bile that threatens to come out back down from the burning feeling. I try to focus on the distinctive, copper taste that my teeth invokes from my lip in an effort to discourage any sounds from escaping my mouth.

I curse inside my head when the door to the room opens up, my perpetrator perching themself down onto the length of the bed in front of me. Their added weight makes my body lean closer to theirs, the slight shift of my faux bonded hands behind my back making me want to scream into oblivion. In stark contrast to the binds that keep me in place, their touch is gentle as they carefully bring the metal edge of a spoon towards my lips, silently urging me to take in a mouthful of food. 

My head stays slightly lowered in submission, my eyes never making eye contact when a few seconds pass by with no movement on either end. I don’t even flinch when my captor predictably loses their temper at my disobedience, the piping hot bowl of soup getting thrown at the nearest wall when I refuse to eat.

As always, my assailant will become violently upset when I don’t part my mouth for any sort of nutrition they try to provide me with and I wonder when it will inevitably turn into their seething appendages against my flesh. My eyes don’t waver from its unrelenting focus onto a particular spot on the blanket covering the bed as they loudly curse to themself at my predictive unwillingness to cooperate, their thundering footsteps echoing out into the hallways before they come back to clean up the mess they have made.

Investing their time into bringing the room back to its orderly state allows them enough moments to calm down before they resume their undivided attention to my still form, their body settling back down onto their previous position from before their little tantrum. A warm yet damp washcloth glides over my smooth skin, running along the droplets of stew that became a casualty in its demise as my perpetrator’s hands softly tend to me.

“... I’m sorry you had to see me like that. You know that I just care about you, right? I wouldn’t ever hurt you. It only worries me when you don’t eat.” Their voice is hushed in the otherwise quiet room and my mouth remains shut. 

I have not deemed my captor worthy of my voice for anything unnecessary since the kidnapping and they routinely sigh at my expected muteness, their larger hand coming up to lightly cradle my cheek when my skin is deemed soup-free. I’ve been extremely selective with what I say, the rare times my lips part to let out my thoughts are when I ask them to let me talk to or see my friends and family—nothing more.

My throat is sore from disuse and my refusal to drink even a bit of water. I don’t even allow myself the short respite of sleep because if I do, the waking world will greet me with severe disorientation and a panic attack when my eyes settle onto my unknown location. I didn’t need my captor rushing into the room from my distressed cries and screaming to comfort me, not wanting a repeat of the first time it happened. The less contact with each other, the better.

My assailant’s thumb is almost nonexistent, my brain not registering the carefully gentle movements as they attempt to soothe the soft skin of my cheek as I begin to disassociate. “You haven’t eaten anything since you’ve came and you don’t talk to me. I’m just trying to help you, you know? You’re safer here and I can give you anything you want, Y/N… I can make you happy.”

Better than most situations, yes.

But it was still disgusting, to be frank.

Almost vile.

Sickening.

Granted, my perpetrator didn’t mistreat me in any way or intentionally inflict any abuse either physically or psychologically onto my person. But, their sick delusions in keeping me locked up for their own selfishness made me sick to my stomach—the obsession this person harbored that grew until they couldn’t hold themselves back any longer when they saw me alone at the parking lot. 

The one, rare moment that I wasn’t seen with any of the boys and they jumped at the opportunity. Just thinking about it brings up the nauseating question: how long have they been closely watching me to seize such an infrequent occasion? 

There’s a stretch of silence between the two of us before they sigh in defeat from my unwavering stubbornness and I try my absolute hardest to refrain from sneering in disgust when they plant a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My jaw tightly clenches and my eyebrows crease together as I feel my anger manifest into the physical remnants of tears beginning to thinly coat my eyes in frustration.

I count it as a small victory when nothing escapes from my eyes—they didn’t deserve my tears.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It’s a whole operation, one with full combat gear and everything. Exhilaration fills everybody’s system as they follow the glaring colors of red and blue sitting on top of the multitude of police cruisers rushing down the desolate streets of South Park. 

It’s quiet in the car, the teens forgoing the sound of music in exchange of the wailing sirens from the Tactical Response automobiles that they closely keep their eyes on. The prospect of finally getting their missing member back fills every pore in their body with a nervous thrum of anticipation, hands trembling on their seated laps in bottled up energy as they come across a swarm of officers exchanging words and talking into radios behind the police tape.

When the boys unload the two vehicles that they all crammed into, they’re predictably denied entry from getting closer to the site as they were deemed unauthorized personnel. They instead take the time to take in their surroundings and from mere observation, it seems that the signal they traced from the phone call brought them to an industrial block close to seemingly nowhere.

Most of the buildings seemed to be factories and warehouses, almost eerily abandoned from the husks of cement that encloses them. The windows adorning the stretch of structures are eerily dark, resembling the empty eye sockets of a person in its lifelessness.

Kyle subtly motions his head in the direction of the surveillance van that is heavily armored and the group catches his nonverbal cue as they pretend to leisurely check out the area in order to bring their bodies closer. From their position, they can see an abundance of green-tinged surveillance screens and a multitude of unfamiliar electronics that flash LED lights. 

Interlaced with the humming and whirring of the electrical devices, they can hear a detective murmuring directions into their mouthpiece as they keep their eyes glued to a live feed of one of the helmets of the men inside. The night vision of the cameras give the screens beyond the mess of wires and cables a green hue, looking similar to the ones you’d see in ghost documentaries or horror movies. 

Suddenly, words become more rushed and frantic as fingers rapidly begin to dance along the keyboards stationed inside the array of devices, the boys instantly surging into impulsive action when they hear the words: getting away. 

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My lack of clothing causes goosebumps to arise all over my body as it hits the cold Colorado air, my perpetrator hastily shoving me into an unmarked van in an attempt to put distance between us and the frenzy of law enforcement that steadily gets louder as they approach our location. Curses cut through the air of anxiety ridden breathing when we suddenly hear loud footsteps, a foreign body suddenly tackling my assailant from behind.

Taking this opportunity of transferred attention, I finally cease my charade of faux restraint as I push the tangle of bodies away from me to run in the opposite direction and take cover to the closest area. The sound of scuffling continues with the added noise of yells so I keep my body hidden in a mixture of nervous anxiety, not wanting this sliver of hope to diminish if I were to be seen.

My body curves in on itself as I crouch as low to the ground as I can while my hands cover my ears, shaking fingers curling over my unwashed hair as I pray that no one finds me. I force myself to pay attention to the pieces of gravel painfully digging into my bare feet while I try to regulate my breathing, my body hunching in on itself even further to insulate more heat.

It isn’t until the sounds of grunts and fists making contact with flesh come to a stop that I chance a peek over the broken rubble of what was possibly a wall long ago. My eyes widen in surprise when I see that my boys have come to my rescue, covered in an array of both cuts and bruises with their chests rapidly heaving up and down from exertion.

The moment of elation immediately turns into dread when I see that my captor has unfortunately obtained a new hostage in my absence, the air thick with newfound tension. Butters winces at the tightening arms locked around him, his hands shooting upwards to soothe the exerted force of the headlock he’s in. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  

Adrenaline starts to pump through my veins as I try to desperately rack my brain for any ideas on what to do when something catches my eyes. The reflection of moonlight creates a glare over its shiny cover, the item that piqued my interest under stray pieces of rubble. I silently make my way to the object and feel the corner of my lips quirk up when I’ve identified the heavy steel as a compact handgun—a fully functioning glock that must’ve been knocked away during the altercation minutes ago. 

I would say that I’m pretty adept with using the weapon—my Uncle Jimbo having taught my brother and I at a young age whenever he took us out to spontaneous camping trips as a sport, but most importantly to teach us a decidedly lethal form of self defense. He began to take us to shooting ranges instead, however, when our combined stubbornness caused us to refuse the purposeful harm of inflicting wounds on innocent animals.

I step out of the concrete camouflaging my body to reveal myself, my face devoid of any expression and my voice flat yet loud. “Let him go.”

“Y/N!” All of the boys exclaim in relief when they spot me but I don’t acknowledge any of them, refusing to look away from my target for even just a second to allow them an opportunity of escape.

My perpetrator’s eyes widen behind the material concealing their identity when they land on my form, a black ski mask with just a large oval cut out of it for their vision. They laugh, irritatingly confident with fake assurance of our time together. 

“Come on, babe. You wouldn’t shoot me. Now be a good girl and come back here so I can let your little friend go.”

I let a few beats of silence go by and when time proves that they won’t relent, I tiredly close my eyes.

Breathe in, and out.

Concentrate.

My chest rises up as I inhale a deep yet steady breath to bring clarity into my mind, my neck leisurely rolling my head around before I grant myself my vision back and focus. Steadily bringing my arms up into the stance deeply ingrained into my body from my adolescence, my fingers take off the safety to pull the trigger and shoot. 

The sudden onslaught of meticulously thought out bullets causes my assailant to drop Butters in their surprise, but none of the shots I take pierce at their skin. I only have the metal pieces graze at the fluttering material of their clothes in warning and the outline of their body in an effort to intimidate them. I walk forward with confidence, expertly dropping the first magazine and quickly reloading it as I let muscle memory take over.

In my ruthless shooting, I don’t take notice of Kyle whacking both Craig and Kenny behind their heads in admonishment when their lips slightly part at the sight of me in awe. Deep vermillion shades their cheeks despite the situation, their hands distractedly coming up to pat Butters in reassurance when the blonde hastily makes his way back to the group.

My eyebrows don’t even furrow in my unwavering concentration, my face apathetically blank as I finally stand in front of my disguised perpetrator. The conservative amount of openings on their mask doesn’t provide much but the sight of their eyes is all I need to know that their body is racked with fear.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach into the front pocket of their flannel shirt to lightly graze my fingers against the box of cigarettes that I know is almost permanently etched in there. Bringing a stick up to my lips, I light it up with the lighter kept in the box for convenience and languidly inhale the toxic fumes until it fills up my lungs. 

Tendrils of smoke begins to slowly leak from my mouth before I mockingly blow a stream of it onto my assailant's face, my eyes lazily trailing down when I see the growing pool of wetness that forms between the material of their shaking legs. The pungent smell of urine invades my nostrils from our close proximity and I cruelly smirk around the rolled-up nicotine, my hand bringing the pistol in between their eyes.

I slowly lift up my unoccupied hand, ignoring its screams for medical attention as I lightly graze the cheek of the person in front of me. Gently grasping the course material covering their face in between my fingers, I take my time in lifting it further up and away from their head. 

The boys behind me suck in a sharp breath when it’s finally revealed that it was none other than the teen that approached me at North Park Funland’s food court when I was waiting for the guys to grab lunch.

“What the fuck?” Someone exclaims from behind me in a mixture of confusion and exasperation, desperately grasping onto the faint remnants of memories that contain the face in front of us.

Pressing the cool metal further against his skin in threat aides him to nervously speak up, his mind running at a million miles per hour as he answers the unprompted questions in all of our heads.

“Don’t you recognize me, Y/N?” Despite the anxiety overcoming his body, there’s a manic grin that begins to stretch wide on his face yet I continue to keep my face devoid of any emotion.

He laughs and the sound of it makes everyone in its vicinity uncomfortable, the madness and hysteria in his tone sharply bleeding through his vocal chords. “See, this is why I took you. I bet you only remember me from the time I came up to you at the amusement park, huh? I went to North Park High with you, and I loved you. You never dated anyone so I thought you returned my affection too, just waiting for me to finally gather up the courage to speak to you.”

“… Holy shit.” A voice exclaims from behind me at the deranged confession.

“But before I could, you suddenly disappeared at the beginning of sophomore year. I was devastated, Y/N. How could you do that to someone who loves you? How could you do that to us? How could you just leave me so easily? When I finally saw you back at the amusement park at North Park, I thought you finally came back. I knew I had to talk to you when I took all of the times that I could have for granted but when I finally did, these bastards interrupted. They took you from me, Y/N.”

A shaky hand reaches forward in an attempt to caress my cheek but I just press the cool metal harder onto the skin of his face in wordless threat. “You understand, right, Y/N? That I had to do it, for us. They changed you—you weren’t like this last year so I knew it was all of their faults.”

My eyes apathetically blink slowly at the pleadings leaking out of the mouth in front of me, the glowing embers of my cigarette casting a warm light against the visage of the begging teen in front of me. The mixture of shades are reminiscent of the color I’d associate with the blazing pits of Hell, a place that’d be worthy of housing the pathetic figure in front of me.

“Just come with me, Y/N. I didn’t hurt you, right? I showed you that I could take care of you and I wasn’t lying when I said that I could make you happy. Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” He offers me a placating smile, wobbly around the corners yet gentle all the same. But despite the soft way his lips curve around his cheeks and how his voice noticeably lightens when addressing me, the deranged undertone of his intentions cannot be ignored.

A beat of silence stretches on as everyone tentatively soaks up the onslaught of information, a whistle cutting through the area. “… What the actual fuck.”

“This guy is actually batshit insane.”

“More like pathetically delusional.”

“You sick fuck! I swear I’ll bash your fucking head in!”

“N/N! Back up before he tries to do something!”

In answer to everything and everyone, my wrist fluidly turns the object in my hand around to harshly slam the butt of the gun onto his face. When his hands shoot up to nurse the blood streaming down from his now crooked nose, I pounce on his larger form and begin my assault on his face with my relentless fists. 

There’s a small quirk to my lips when I hear the satisfying sound of his bone crunching underneath my knuckles, the voice below me just begging for reprieve. The point of contact between the both of us that I know will inflict a world of hurt causes an overwhelming sense of euphoria, the body trembling underneath me in both unadulterated fear and absolute pain.

For the first time in days, I feel good.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My revenge didn’t get as far as I would have liked it before a cacophony of panicked voices fill the air at my merciless revenge, arms settling themselves over my waist as they heft my body away from my assailant. When the distance between us steadily grows, I take petty satisfaction in spitting at the vivid reds and deep purples beginning to bloom in a sea of blood.

When my cigarette is but a slowly diminishing roach, my hands flail to extinguish the flame onto the skin of his face. I struggle for a bit as a scream of anguish rips out of the gurgle of blood in his throat but my quick attempt as a last resort of revenge proves to be fatal when my perpetrator quickly grabs onto my mangled wrist.

I yell in excruciating pain as they purposefully exert force in the hold that they have over me, knowledgeable of the tender skin laying underneath their grip and using it to their advantage. Their unoccupied hand hurriedly reaches into the denim of the back pocket of their jeans, the arms wrapped around me frantically trying to pull me further away as I desperately try to wrench back my screaming wrist.

Their efforts prove to be successful as if in slow motion, a syringe filled with a sickly green gets brandished before they try to stab the thin metal into the expanse of skin onto the arms wrapped around me. I can physically feel the color drain from my face when I can feel a slight pinch in my skin come from the needle being ruthlessly jammed into my arm in its haste, my veins beginning to feel like they’re burning as he mistakenly injects me with a foreign liquid. 

My body immediately falls limp like a puppet whose strings got cut off at the unknown intrusion, the other boys quickly tackling my assailant to properly hold him down. He begins to maniacally laugh as he eerily smiles at me, my eyes glassy and distant as I stare back. It’s like I have no control of my body, my mind desperately willing my fingers and toes to move, to do anything but all my attempts are otherwise unacknowledged by my body.

I can’t do anything as I fall onto the rough asphalt of the floor, pieces of gravel painfully digging into my exposed body as Tweek falls from my unexpected dead weight. The blond cushions the rest of my body as he cradles me in his lap, my head facing up into the dark sky from my new position. 

There are no stars up above to provide me Craig’s gift of everlasting comfort, I realize.

Tweek’s shaking hands push my limp head to the crook of his elbow, my form draped across the safe solace of his lap as he adjusts my body for comfort. Slender fingers tremble as they try to clumsily push away the stray strands of hair that fell over my face, my sticky cheeks making it harder as silky locks are wet from the tears that were invoked when my assailant forcibly applied pressure to my self-mutilated wrist.

My body feels as if it’s alight in pure hell as every single cell in my body begins screaming at me, willing it to do anything to rid my system of this tortuous sensation. Tears begin to gather at the corner of my eyes, my vision glassy and unfocused at the pure agony that my nerves rapidly signal to my brain for some desperate help.

“Guys! GUYS!” In my silent suffering, I fail to notice the apprehension of my prior classmate as the boys begin to quickly gather around me at the sounds of Tweek’s frantic yelling. 

His erratic fingers continue to desperately push away the locks of hair obscuring my vision, his chest quickly heaving up and down in panic as he takes in my state. “Ngh! She hasn’t moved since the guy injected her with something—she hasn’t even BLINKED!”

“What?!” Kenny roars in anger, not comprehending how the situation got even worse than it already was at the slight error on their part for not quickly capturing my perpetrator as soon as I started attacking.

“What the fuck did you do?! Fucking ANSWER ME!” My brother thunders out loud this time, but nobody can provide an explanation as they watch my terrifyingly still body.

Kenny shoves his way to where Tweek has me, the blonde getting roughly pushed aside as I’m forcibly transferred onto another lap, the new face revealing itself to be my blonde lover. His brows are furrowed in frustration and his normally crystal-like eyes have a thin film of cloudy tears around it, threatening to break free when he heaves a shaky breath out at seeing my unresponsive face.

“No. No, no, no. Princess?” His whisper is so feeble and weak, his normally confident and easygoing voice utterly distressed as he frantically scans my face for any detection of life. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me, please. No more, I just got you back.” Shaky hands gently grasp at one of my shoulders, softly urging me to do something as his pleading voice transitions into feeble begging.

He lightly presses his forehead against my own, his fingers softly grasping onto my hair and twirling it around his fingers as an outlet to release his nervous energy. My body screams out at him but no one can hear me, my form as limp as ever and still burning. However, Kenny’s arms wrapped around me so securely after so long apart causes a bit of relief from my own internal torment.

He can’t help the sob that shakes his entire body at its sheer magnitude when I don’t respond to his familiar touch or the soothing cadence of his voice like I usually do after minutes of trying. The blonde’s breathing becomes increasingly panicked, every inhale and exhale of his chest shaking my own form as he cradles me against his clothed one.

“Always and forever, remember? You can’t leave me now. We’re supposed to get old and grey and when our lives are almost done, you’re supposed to grin and turn to me and Tucker and tell us all about how much fucking fun you had.” His voice comes out in broken whispers, almost becoming delirious from his haywire emotions in its rawness and how utterly torn it sounded. 

As ironic as it is, up until this moment the blonde truly thought he knew death. Dying as often as he did, Kenny figured that it could never get worse after all of his gruesome experiences with it. But it never quite prepared him to consider the other perspective of it, to watch someone else pass and the foreign emotions that came with this new territory. He’s lost his limbs, even his own heart, but he has never felt such a loss like this in his entire life.

In the privacy of the darkness that overtakes his room with nightfall, he would consume a conspicuous amount of alcohol and drugs in order to numb the pain of constantly dying. But after the discovery that I’d remember if he left, he realized that he didn’t need all of that anymore when he knew that someone was expecting him back. That sole moment of discovery was an absolute dream come true because Kenny absolutely hated dying, the way the hurt never got better and how it made him feel so forgettable and insignificant.

It was the reason he opted to take home economics in elementary school instead of the shop class filled with sharp material and dangerous equipment with the rest of the boys. It was the reason he chose to be a fucking princess in their fantasy role-playing game, wanting to be the one who got saved for once in his life from his intimate relationship with death and his time as Mysterion, the superhero who rescued others. 

Because he never understood—who saved him while he always saved everyone else?

But at this very moment, he thinks about how he’d gladly take my place if it meant seeing my smile again. Despite how much he grew up absolutely dreading the familiar emptiness that came whenever he woke up to the water-stained ceiling of his bedroom. Regardless of the way the people he held so dearly to him acted so normal when he came back, as if something wasn’t amiss despite their swollen red eyes or the lingering smell of alcohol on Stan’s breath.

Because to Kenny, the blonde saw the heavens every single time my lips curved in happiness. And he didn’t want to lose the one good in his unfortunate life full of poverty provided by his deadbeat parents.

Not now, not ever. Not when there was still a promise of always and forever.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Red locks suddenly appear in my peripherals, a large hand going over my chest as Kyle leans his head closer to my still body. After a few seconds, he places his fingers on the pulse of my neck and wrist before ultimately placing a finger in front of my nose.

“… There’s no sign of breathing.” It feels like a cold bucket of water drenches my body at the curly haired teen's whispered words, my mind screaming that no, I’m still alive. 

“How the—but she was just… Is she dead..?! Please don't tell me she's dead.” Clyde’s panic-stricken voice wobbly sounds out from somewhere to my left, the boys yelling out shocked expletives at Kyle’s solemn announcement.

“There’s just no way. Try again, Kyle. Please.”

“No. No, no, no. Not her. Please, not N/N.”

“Are you sure you checked correctly? Maybe it’s faint, check the pulse on her neck or wrist again!”

“How..? She was just breathing.”

All variations of false hope, all coming to the same conclusions no matter who checks and how. Stan doesn’t relent in his desperate attempts, determined to hear the sound that belongs to the other half of him.

It just didn't make any sense, it couldn’t even register in his mind despite everyone’s efforts and their repeated confirmation. I’ve always been there with him. Who was Stan Marsh if not the twin of Y/N?

My heartbeat is all that he's ever known, the one thing he’s so sure of in a universe filled to the brim with the undiscovered. It’s something that he's so in tune with—he knew the exact beats of it and could recognize the warmth of it whenever he was near me. But right now as I lay still with my eyes wide and glassy, it was like listening to deafening static and hoping for nothing.

I would’ve jolted if I had control of my limbs as an agonized scream sharply cuts through the air, my brother’s voice full of anguish at the reveal. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“You better speak the fuck up or I swear to fucking God that you’ll wish the police got to you before we did.” Craig’s monotonous voice rings out from somewhere to my side, my screaming brain wailing out to my raven-haired lover because I feel scared even in the comforting presence of the others. 

I hear something loudly make contact with the ground, my perpetrator grunting a little further away. “FUCKING DO SOMETHING! YOU WANTED US, RIGHT? NOT HER! YOU WANTED TO MAKE HER HAPPY YET YOU STILL DID THIS TO HER! TAKE ME INSTEAD!”

In the quietness of the night, so soft that it’s almost hard to hear he speaks again. “Please. Please, just take me instead.” 

The raw pain colored in Craig’s voice hurts my apparently unbeating heart even more, his voice breaking apart as it dissolves into a small plea at the end of his sentence in unadulterated desperation. A drop of liquid falls onto my face as he threatens the teen and my eyes shift up to see Kenny softly weeping over me, the sight making my heart feel like it's breaking into a million pieces as I desperately wish to just reach out and soothe the weeping boy.

Nobody says anything, the sound of sobbing and sniffling the only thing filling the air.

When the blonde pulls me closer to his chest in order to bring my limp body into a tight hug, the slight alteration to my position allows me to see Craig as he takes a few quick strides to where he threw my assailant. The groaning teen begins to cry out in pain when the ravenette intentionally grabs him by the shoulder where a deep crimson begins to bleed through his jacket.

“FUCK YOU, you sick fuck. I can’t believe you’d kill someone you claim to love. If you make it out of this alive, just remember: when you killed her, you didn’t kill just one person.” He raises his fist and roughly slams it against the already battered visage of the bleary eyed teen in front of him, quickly lifting his curled fist to deliver repeated punches again and again.

He laughs but it’s devoid of any emotion. Yet it’s somehow ruthlessly cruel in its emptiness and hollow in its hurt.

“Never get too attached to anyone, dipshit. Unless they also feel the same way towards you. Because one-sided expectations can mentally destroy you. Well... I guess it’s too late for that, you crazy fuck.” Craig cuts off the boy begging for mercy or for any sort of undeserved reprieve as he kicks him down onto the ground, pressing a knee onto his chest as he scoffs at the delivery of his too-late advice.

He exerts as much of his weight onto the wheezing body in front of him, the struggling teen spitting out the onslaught of blood that pours into his cut lips from his broken nose. His hands clumsily shoots out to try to relent some of the pressure from the ravenette’s knee as a large hand reaches for his hair to harshly slam his head onto the ground. 

My unnamed assailant frantically begins to yelp, his voice raspy as he tries to force out the words from his throat. “Stop, STOP! She’s alive, okay?! Just let me go and I’ll do something.”

Kyle backs away from me and I feel the tears begin to leak out from the corner of my eyes quicker than when I was in pain and I know that my body would have been absolutely sobbing in distress if I could move. The diminishing presence of the boys around me causes my brain to go into a frenzy of panic, desperate to be heard from the others and to keep their comforting presences with me.

Already overwhelmed with the ongoing pain coursing throughout my body, the additional panic of the boys losing hope wills myself to open my mouth to yell out for them. When nothing works, I curse at the fact that my eyes were left open because now I just wanted to block everything out—for everything to be over with. Whatever was injected into my body was killing me and I could feel it.

It’s as if whatever higher deity is up there finally answers my prayers as tufts of silky blonde hair enters my vision from the corner of my eyes, Butters expression filled with melancholy as he scans my face. He brings a hand up to the skin of my cheeks, his touch so soft that it almost feels nonexistent. He lightly skims his fingers over the expanse he has access to and when they creep towards my damp eyelashes, his hand stills from their gentle ministrations.

His eyebrows furrow, his voice soft in its disbelief as he speaks up. “She’s crying.”

“What?” Tolkien approaches my view, his own expression tensely mirroring the blondes in his well-deserved skepticism. He carefully watches as Butters brings up the soft material that makes up the sleeves of his jacket to gently dab at my eyes, the area not staying dry for long before my tears immediately resurface.

“Holy shit, she’s crying.” He echoes out in confirmation, a mixture of bewilderment and confusion painting his words.

A beat of silence tells me that they’re all looking at the previously masked teen for answers, the boy speaking up at their expectant faces when the sound of a fist meeting skin sounds out through the air. “Fuck! I told you, it’d be a slow and painful death. She’s not dead, yet. She’s still alive, I can do something if you just let me.”

“No fucking way! We can't trust him!” Cartman barks out to the group in caution, a sneer deeply curled onto his face as he stares down at the beaten teen.

Butters immediately starts sobbing at my lifeless face, the salty tears that are escaping his eyes begin to gently drop down his face until they meet the already damp skin of my own. He’s frantic in trying to catch every drop that trails down from my own orbs, his aim not that accurate due to his shaky hands.

“Fellas! FELLAS!” The blonde musters up what little of his strength he has left as he yells over the boys arguing, effectively cutting off the voices fighting over our heads. 

“We have to help her. We have to. She’s my little sister, I can’t lose her.” He hysterically babbles, his frantic speech making it hard to make out his words.

“Butters, calm the fuck down.” A hand tries to placate him by laying itself on one of his shoulders, the blonde venomous as he urges everyone to just listen as he sharply slaps away the comforting touch.

Although hope was beginning to form due to Butters’ efforts, the pain coursing my veins was starting to change, feeling like something within me was ominously shifting. While everything still hurt, my senses were beginning to gradually fade as my body began to give up its fight. Everything around me felt like it was getting duller, my brain slowly starting to not register the feeling of Butters’ fingers against my face and the surrounding voices of the others.

“We can’t trust him! He can’t do anything, he’s just fucking lying again! He’s deceived us once and he's just going to do it another time. She’s GONE! He can't bring her back!” Cartman impatiently tries to yell some sense into the boys, everyone lost on what to do and sharing conflicted looks with one another. 

“Let him go. Do it.” Stan decidedly breaks the silence, tensely forcing his demand out through gritted teeth as he vehemently glares at my assailant. 

I felt so… gone.

But my brother knew he had to take the chance, however small and uncertain it may be. He had promised and he was going to do whatever he was capable of doing at this moment to keep it. Every time he was there, he always told me that I’d be safe and he’d be damned if he turned his back on his baby sister. Because if there was even a chance, a small sliver of hope that I was still alive…

“He might be lying, Stan…” Kyle shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his face as he whispered logically to the furiously demanding teen.

“DO IT! I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND, FUCKING FIX HER!” His scream pierces through the air, a few of the boy’s bodies jumping slightly at the sheer volume of his distressed voice. He ignores his best friend’s reasoning, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge that his emotions may be irrationally controlling the decisions he’s making.

No one moves for a moment, everyone warily eyeing each other. Cartman furrows his eyebrows and takes a step forward before Kyle stops him. “If you do this and something happens, it’s on you. Would you be able to live with your conscience if nothing happens to N/N and he’s able to get away?”

“It’s a chance that I’m willing to take, Kyle. Don’t fucking question me, this is my fucking sister.” Stan impatiently snaps at the curly haired teen, the redhead glaring back at the bleached blonde from the insinuation of his words.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Marsh. She’s my little sister, too.” He bitterly bites back as he roughly pushes past the sneering teen and grabs the discarded gun from the floor before kneeling down, freeing my perpetrator from the thick rope the boys used to crudely detain him with.

Kyle threateningly points the heavy metal towards his head, the other boys closely watching to see if he’ll flee as their bodies tense on the chance that they may have to jump into action. My captor grabs something from the unmarked vehicle, his hands nervously shaking as he brings another syringe out to imbed into my skin. The boys all collectively flinch when they watch the long needle trespass against my arm, their breaths baited as they tensely observe from the crowd formed around me.

The second the liquid enters my system, it’s as if my body got released from the paralysis keeping me shackled in its silent hold. Only one deep breath gets heaved out before I let out a bloodcurdling scream to vocalize the intense agony I’ve been feeling all this time.

Shocked, the boys didn’t know what to do as they watched in muted horror as I begin to scream bloody murder on Kenny’s lap. They just kind of expected me to wake up, never having guessed that they’d be presented with the painful image of my back contorting to an exaggerated arch and my limbs violently flailing everywhere. 

My sobs begin to combine with my torturous screaming, my hands failing multiple times before they’re able to grab onto the material adorning Kenny’s frame as I shake his still body. “MAKE IT STOP!”

The screeching finally prompts him into action as his hands attempt to restrain my thrashing body, my chest painfully heaving as I blabber nonsense to anyone listening through my thick tears. All the boys could do was cry at the sight, feeling useless and frustrated as a few of them join us on the ground to assist the blonde in keeping me still.

From upside down my vision, Craig gently but firmly grabs onto my cheeks to still my flailing head as he presses his soft lips onto my skin to speak against my forehead. “Shh, I’m here, babe. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

All the boys let out their own shaky variations of both verbal or physical assurance and comfort yet nothing changes. Clyde hysterically sobs, turning his face from where it was nestled into my neck to beg at the teen who administered my pain. “STOP THIS!

He glares at my former classmate without breaking contact with me, the teen looking sheepish as he averts his gaze from the deathly looks of the group of teens. His voice is low and meek as he mumbles to the others, “... Her body’s been getting tortured like this since the moment the liquid entered her system. It’s just that now, she's finally able to physically and verbally react to it.”

Everyone feels their entire guts plummet at the information revealed to them, my body beginning to weakly curl in on itself as my screams fade away to loud sobs. They’re speechless at the fact that I’ve felt like this the entire time, all of them ignorant to my silent pain and for thinking I was already dead.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Kenny vehemently seethes from where his own body is wrapped around my own in an attempt to comfort my relentless weeping, his form shaking in unbridled rage.

My whole body twitches and throbs before the pain manifests itself into bile forcibly exiting my mouth, my delirium unable to put a name to the voices and hands trying to soothe me. Whatever happened with the second dose made my eyes heavy with fatigue, my head going eerily limp from the sudden decrease in energy.

“Stay with me, okay, beautiful? It’s over now, you just need to stay awake with me. We’re going to keep you safe.” 

But I was too tired, too filled with pain, and too weak to keep the promise of the comforting voice. I could feel gentle fingers stroking my cheeks, soft kisses placed against the skin of my face, and both of my hands in someone else's grip.

“Come on, baby. You can do this. Stay with me.”

The sounds around me gently morph into an orchestra of panic but all I can do is lightly smile at the cacophony of hysterical noise as the warmth from everyone comfortingly surrounds my whole body to rest. 

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My parents had offered to drop my brother and I off to school, the both of them pulling Stan aside to exchange a few hushed words as I patiently wait along the pavement of the frosted sidewalk. I vibrate in place as I wait for Stan, excited to finally be away from the sterile, white confines of the hospital walls.

Once their conversation concludes, he walks the short distance between us as he intertwines our fingers together, his moving feet leading me along the almost desolate hallways of the school. His body is slightly ahead of my smaller one, as if shielding me from anything that we could possibly come across and I just softly smile at his ridiculous yet endearing overprotectiveness.

I unconsciously shrink in only myself before he notices and shoots me a comforting look, his supportive smile making me stand a little bit taller in confidence before he pushes the heavy wooden door to our first class of the day–homeroom. My eyes flicker from side to side, slightly widening as I take in my surroundings to look at the faces around me in a mixture of both anxiety and excitement. 

Not paying much attention, I fail to notice that my brother has stopped walking as my body softly runs into the thick material of the jacket that adorns the back of his body. I lightly giggle at my clumsiness, my inattentiveness making the both of us grin as he begins to slightly pull our interlocked hands to bring my form a little forward. 

The expression on his face is soft as he lightly smiles down at me as a form of reassurance, his eyes taking the time to run along my face to take note of any signs of discomfort. Once satisfied after nothing sets off his instincts, I offer a soft grin of my own when my brother brings my attention to the group of teenage boys gathered in front of us.

They’re all in varying stances, some perched onto the seats of their desks while a few lean against the table top of the hard structure to be in closer proximity with their friends before the school day starts. My face slightly angles downward towards the linoleum floor when I notice that all of their expectant gazes are carefully watching me, nervous energy reverberating from their bodies in barely contained energy. 

Of what, I’m not quite sure as my eyes look back to search for ones identical to my own in encouragement as the nervous thrum begins to run along my veins at their attentive stares. My brother’s voice is patient when he speaks up, soft in between the contrasting air of chattering students surrounding all of our bodies.

“N/N. Do you remember any of them..?”

My body seeks refuge from the intense gazes of everyone as I slightly retreat to hide half of my face behind Stan’s clothed arm, my hands clenching around the ones in my hold in anxiety. I shake my head, the nonverbal answer knocking the bated breaths out of the group of teen’s bodies in a mixture of evident disappointment and apparent anguish. 

There’s an apologetic expression on my face as I whisper honestly to my brother.

“No.”