#sp fanfiction

[gloomingstar]

[peachii-32172]

re-read aisle 10 for the 100000th time <3

[cocoaconicoco]

Princess Kenny and king elf Kyle ♡

She is trying to give him a kiss on the forehead hehe. I really like the two of them together but in a platonic way.

[shhh-secret-time]

"Am I worth all this? Rosy, tender, with such a sticky future - but isn't that what life is? I just hope someone likes the taste of my mess."

Pomegranates and Honey

A huge thank you to @emilyartstudio-s for bringing my idea to life! Fantastic, phenomenal, beautiful work as always! They were an actual delight to work with and I'm so very excited to have something so well done to put towards my fic!

[naskaolgia]

Chapter 7: Coffee

GUESS WHO, AND GUESS WHAT'S BACK. OH YOU KNOW IT-

GO CHECK OUT IT'S WEBSITES!!

[julysn]

there’s a place for us in a dirty movie | dilf!kyle x fem!reader

𝓢ynopsis ⋆ After a long day of work and taking care of your children, you and your husband end the evening in bed.. and maybe end up making another kid.

𝓘ncludes slightly ooc!𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂!dilf!kyle / submissive top (?) kyle.. idk where i was going with this. / spoiler he rips your panties off with your teeth. / slight praise / you have two kids together / breeding / milf!reader / handjobs / probably didn’t cook. maybe i burned the meal. let me know

𝓦ord 𝓬ount ⋆ ≈4000

𝓝otes ⋆ dunno what i was cooking LMFAO i wrote this during class and i’m pretty sure the cute guy next to me noticed.. also sorry for inactivity!! yk how school is. HAPPY TRAIL DILF KYLE !!!!!!!! AAAAHHHHH

what motivated me 2 write this was there being not a lot of second person smut on kyle :,( can we all agree that first person SUCKS 4 smut 😭 | ao3 link

You sat there in bed, head tilted slightly and eyes lazily gazing into the screen of your television. Your kids were all asleep and tucked in nicely, and you were now waiting patiently for your husband to come home from work.

You and Kyle Broflovski have been married for about four years, and you loved him dearly. You’d give him the world and the moon if you could. The way your life turned out felt like a dream come true—you were living comfortably, had adorable children running around the house, and were in the most perfect relationship ever. It felt surreal.

A soft yawn escapes your lips as your gaze drifts from the TV to the door, before you reach over to the nightstand and pick up your phone. It was about time for him to come home, and you couldn’t deny the little flutter in your chest at the thought of him being back in bed with you. Even though you two were now married, whenever you looked—or, hell, thought about him, your heart rate would slowly pick up its pace and a smile would develop on your lips. It reminded you of your highschool years and when the two of you first began liking each other.

You remembered the day the two of you went on your first date together. Junior year, on a snowy day during December. The two of you were supposed to go to the local Buca di Faggocini for dinner, but it ended up snowing so badly that it was impossible to drive. Kyle decided to walk down to your house because the two of you were practically neighbors, and you both ended up sitting by the fireplace, bodies curled up into an embrace as you watched a movie.

Then there were the basketball games. You only attended them once you and Kyle started to date, and they were fun to watch. Or maybe it was fun because you just gazed at him the entire time. You loved seeing SPHS win, loved seeing the bright smile on his face whenever his team won—which was practically every game, since the other schools in the area couldn’t compare to the athleticism of South Park High—and seeing him celebrate.

Most of your favorite high school memories involved him in some way, whether it be you and Stan’s friends skipping class, or him just being in the background of your fondest moments. You two were truly meant to be.

Sinking deeper into an ocean of thoughts, you almost barely missed the sound of the doorknob twisting, the creak of the door shaking you out of your nostalgia.

“Hey.” You give Kyle a nonchalant smile, hints of tenderness in your expression as you desperately tried to hide the fact that you were practically smiling and giggling at the thought of him. He’d tease you if he knew.

But he could already tell.

Oh, he knew everything about you. Not in a creepy way, of course, but spending so much time with you over the years and watching the two of you grow from angsty, chaotic teens in high school to mature, intelligent adults caused him to learn little things about you. Your little habits, how you’d always try to act relaxed around him even after being married—when in reality you were thinking about him, every little thing. He noticed it, and he loved it. He loved you, loved every little thing you did and said.

“Have you been thinking about me?” Kyle asks, voice soft and smooth as he walks over to you and places a hand on your cheek, lightly cupping it as he leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

You practically melted at his oh-so-sweet gesture, even if you were used to it by now. He was just so sweet and perfect, the definition of husband material. It sounded crazy, but you were thankful that he was yours, no one else’s. You’d do anything to keep him as yours. You couldn’t help but let your lips curl into a wide smile, a soft blush blanketing your cheeks.

“Yeah.” The truth slips from your lips, and you watch with a sweet, lovestruck gaze as he turns away from you and pulls his shirt off, the softest hint of red climbing up your cheeks.

Kyle’s body was divine, comparable to the likes of Greek gods. He had the perfect set of abs; his athleticism from his high school years etched into his waist like an everlasting memory. Small, slightly noticeable veins ran down his arms, and your eyes fell upon his happy trail. You had to bite your lip to conceal the bit of drool that threatened to spill out, your gaze sliding down the way his hair led down to his genitals.

That was the father of your children. And you couldn’t be more grateful.

You watch him with an almost intense gaze, eyes glued to the sight before you as he balls up his shirt and tosses it into your laundry basket, carefully unbuckling his belt and slipping it off of his pants as he places it on the dresser and pulls his pants down, leaving himself in his boxers. You can’t help but stare as he opens the drawer and picks up a pair of comfy shorts, slipping the fabric around his legs and pulling it up to hug his pretty waist.

Ugh, he was so pretty. Kyle Broflovski was the prettiest man to ever grace the earth with his mere presence. You weren’t exaggerating, that was genuinely how you felt. He aged like fine wine, still as handsome as he was in his teenage years.

God, you could remember the first day you laid eyes on him. Sophomore year, the first day of school.

You had moved to South Park with your parents over the summer, and stepping into South Park High, your eyes were greeted with chaos. It was comforting, in a way, since your last school was stricter than a Mormon’s life.

You were then approached by a group of four boys, one of them being a kid with curly red hair and little freckles on his cheeks. He stood there awkwardly, not saying too much as two of the guys hit on you while one of them just introduced himself and the guys.

You glanced at him occasionally, mentally noting each feature he had. Not to be a creep. But he was pretty. Tousled red hair that slightly covered his eyes. Pale, freckled skin. Mossy green eyes. A defined jawline, unlike one of his friends that was currently trying to impress you. The softest hint of a blush on his nose—was it a cold, or just natural?

After the other three boys had left, the curly-haired teen offered to walk you to class, and you let him. I mean, this was a new school, and you needed help to get around. When the both of you began to walk to your first class, you two instantly hit it off.

And the rest was history.

Falling deeper and deeper into an abyss of nostalgic memories and thoughts, you barely noticed as Kyle slid into bed beside you, letting out a heavy sigh as he relaxed against the soft pillows and comforters. You barely noticed the stress etched into his features, deep in your love for him.

“Y/N?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn from staring at the wall to face him.

When you looked at him, you stole his breath away. Kyle couldn’t believe that you were real. You were an angel, someone worthy of becoming a model. The prettiest wife he could’ve ever asked for. His eyes drifted down to the way your top showed a bit of your cleavage, drifting down to your thighs, the sight of you causing a rush of blood to immediately run down to his penis.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down. Damn.

Before he could reply, he watched as your eyes trailed down his body, silently admiring his muscles and pale, freckled skin when your eyes drifted down to the growing bulge in his shorts.

Immediately, you spoke, a finger pointing down at his crotch. Your mouth moved faster than your mind. “You want me to take care of that?”

And immediately, you regretted it. The way you said it caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over your consciousness as a blush crept up your cheeks and blanketed your skin.

Kyle blushes too, his cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of red that rivaled his hair as he stutters for a moment. Even though you two had been together for years, the thought of you performing such acts on him always caused a certain heat to rise up to his face.

Silence descends upon the two of you, the soft hum of the television filling the air as he slowly leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate embrace. You didn’t even need a verbal response or a nod of the head to know what he wanted, you just knew.

He wanted you.

Kyle’s arms wrapped around your waist, your hands on his cheeks as your tongues clashed and fought in a battle of control and dominance.

And he was winning.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, letting him deepen it as he pulled you onto his lap and slid his hands down to cup your ass, calloused fingers digging into your flesh. Soft whimpers escape his lips as he kisses you desperately, wanting more, needing more of you.

One of your hands slipped down from his cheek down to his thigh, gently squeezing it as you tugged his shorts down and freed his erection from the prisons of fabric. Kyle let out a soft, pretty moan as your fingers gently brushed against his tip, sending shivers crawling up his spine. Pre-cum was already dripping down his cock, the perfect substance to use as lubricant.

“Fuck, oh my god..” His deep, breathless groans encourage you, motivating you to go him, motivating you to wrap your hand around his shaft and pump up and down, pre-cum coating your fingers as you do so.

As you stroke his dick, arousal begins to pool in your stomach. Fuck. He looked so pretty like this, desperate for you to continue your handjob, desperate to finally cum and feel your cunt around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter just at the thought of the two of you having sex again.

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you stroke his cock, motions beginning to accelerate as you smile cheekily. “Am I making you all worked up, baby?”

Kyle rolls his eyes playfully and flashes you a smile, still able to look as charming as ever even while you were jerking him off. “Maybe.”

You continue your motions, the thought of causing him to climax, or, in other words, to fall off of the edge of heaven motivating you to no end. Each stroke got faster, harder, better as he threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his moans.

The kids are still asleep, you thought, biting your lip anxiously as you occasionally glanced at the door. It was locked, but the kids might knock on the door or cry to get your attention. I hope they don’t ruin this for us.

Your free hand lifts, fingers lazily drawing circles around Kyle’s nipples as he looks down at you, eyes pleading for more.

“Y/N, please, I’m about to cu—“

His muffled warning was too late, as before he could even finish speaking, he ejaculated all over your hand. Kyle let out a deep groan into the palm of his hand, milky white cum flowing down your hand to his balls as his hips buck upwards.

You pull back, slumping against the soft comforters as you lick his semen off of your fingers. The silence was deafening, and you could’ve sworn there was a ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, maybe? Or was it really that quiet?

“So… do you want to go to sleep now?” You ask sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stand up from the bed and walk over to the dresser.

You begin pulling your shorts down and slipping them off of your ankles, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. Just as you place them on the dresser, you feel his arms wrap around you, his calloused fingers tugging at your panties.

“I need you so fuckin’ bad..” Kyle mumbles against your neck, pulling you into him as his teeth graze against your neck. A soft, almost whiny moan leaves your lips as his hands squeeze your thigh before sliding up to your hips.

He pushes you down onto the bed, hovering over your figure as his teeth nibble on your flesh. You whine and gasp, looking down at him as his lips descended your chest to your waist, to your hips, pressing kisses everywhere he went. He was really desperate for you, wasn’t he?

“Oh god..” You moan breathlessly, eyes glued to the way Kyle kisses your hips, eyes glued to the sight of his lips exploring your body. He looked so pretty like this, all desperate to fuck you.

“You’re so pretty.” He comments absentmindedly, busy with ravishing your body, not even realizing the words that slipped from his mouth as his fingers gently caress your skin.

Kyle’s teeth found the waistband of your panties, tugging on them slowly as his tongue darted out to tease you with soft, quick flicks to the skin. Just as you relaxed from his ministrations, he pulls back and you yelp, feeling the fabric snap off of your skin.

“You better pay for that.” You frown, crossing your arms and glaring down at him.

“I will, Y/N. Promise.” He whispers against your ear, leaning in to kiss your temple. You smile at his affectionate action, caught off guard when he starts to rub his member against your entrance, shaft sliding up and down your clit.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” You babble out mindlessly, the sensations of Kyle’s cock in-between your folds sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He always felt so good.

Loud, breathless moans escape your lips as his hands gently fondle your breasts, his thumb twirling against your nipples. His erect member slid up and down, up and down, torturing you as you waited impatiently for him to slide inside you.

“Shh, darling. Hold still.” Kyle whispers, leaning down to capture your lips into a kiss, your tongues pirouetting and tangoing sloppy as you try to maintain your composure, failing when he was teasing you so good like this.

You let his tongue explore your mouth and muffle your moans, letting him explore each and every single crevice he could come across and memorize the taste of your tongue against his.

Finally, after what felt like years of waiting, Kyle pulls back from you, ending the kiss as he hastily reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom out of the drawer. You watch through your eyelashes as he rips the wrapper open, tugging the condom over his shaft as he flicks the wrapper away and turns back to you.

“Are you sure we’re going to need that?” You ask slyly, finger aimed at the condom on his cock. “I wouldn’t mind another kid.”

It was a bold suggestion, but you just had to say it, you just needed to let it out. It’d be nice to have another one, and he was such a good father, it was unreal.

Kyle stares at you dumbfounded, a soft red hue rising up to his cheeks. It sounded like a good idea, in all honesty—your eldest was five, youngest being three. Maybe it was time for another baby..

After a few moments of hesitation, he starts to slip the condom off of his shaft, tossing it aside. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You nod so quickly your head would’ve probably fallen off, eager to have him inside you.

Kyle slowly pushes himself inside of you, gripping your hips as he fills your insides. He was quite large and hard, so it always felt amazing to have him pushing himself past your folds and into your canal. You squirmed in delight, throwing your head back against the pillows as he rolls his hips forward.

“Kyle-!” You moan, pearls of sweat dotting your hairline as he goes deeper and deeper, pumping into you with increasing intensity. Your eyes roll back, your fingers finding the bedsheets and tightening their grip on the fabric.

“You’re so pretty..” He moans, leaning down as his lips latch around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around your areolas as your body writhes underneath him.

Kyle’s thrusts find a steady pace, his hands gripping your hips as he gently sucks on your breasts. You squirm and moan, pleasure coursing through your veins as he starts to tease you, teeth grazing across your chest. His cock pushes in and out of you, in and out, in and out again as the sounds of his balls slapping against your clit fill the air. The kids better not be awake.

“You’re so tight and wet, babe.” The nickname slips out of his lips like he’s wanted to say it forever, but can’t bring himself to. You smile a bit, though, a small smile gracing your lips while he continues to pump his shaft deep into you.

You’re so distracted, distracted by the feeling of each and every thrust in and out of you, distracted by his tongue sucking on your chest, leaving hickeys in areas no one else could see, so distracted that your moans slowly get louder and louder to the point that your children could hear.

Kyle takes notice of this, pulling back and pressing his lips against yours in a quick attempt to silence you. It works, as his tongue swirls around yours and he explores your mouth again, loving how you tasted and how you felt around him.

Once he finally ends the kiss, pulling back and gazing at your figure as you writhe and squirm under him, he places his hand over your mouth so his palm could muffle your moans.

You’re losing your breath, the feeling of his hips brushing against yours and his cock pounding into you sending waves of ecstasy to your core. Soft, breathless whimpers leave your lips, eyes fluttering shut and back arching forward as his hands come up to fondle your breasts.

Kyle’s close, oh so close, oh so close to hitting his climax. He’s going to explode, and it becomes more and more evident as his thrusts begin to increase in speed, cock sliding in and out of your entrance as quickly as he physically could.

“Fuck, I’m gonna..” His words slide off his tongue without its sentence even being completed, cock swelling slightly as he begins to cum. You feel full, full of your husband, the love of your life.

Kyle groans as semen spills into you, penis twitching inside of you as a sense of warmth fills your being. This felt exquisite, divine, like your body was made only for the purpose of being pleased and pleasing your one and only.

Once he’s finally done emptying his cum into you, he pulls out of you, sliding out of you and collapsing against your body lazily.

Kyle lays his head on your abdomen, letting out a soft hum as you run your fingers through his tousled hair. The moment was sweet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the events that had just transpired between the both of you.

Silence envelops your figures for a few seconds, the rush of pleasure slowly fading as he comes to a realization.

“Did you cum?” Kyle asks, looking up at you and cocking his head to the side. A wave of embarrassment washes over your being as you replay the moment and realize no, you didn’t. You didn’t cum at all.

“No..” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as he lifts his head from your stomach. He just wasn’t hitting the right spots when he was penetrating, and you didn’t make it obvious.

Kyle lifts his head, the thought of him finally making you cum once and for all sending a spark of blood rushing down to his groin. He presses a kiss to your lips as he quickly flips you onto your stomach.

You gasp as he presses his cock against your folds, feeling it grow and harden. “Fuck..”

A smirk grows on Kyle’s lips, and he leans down, tilting your head to face him, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, tongue swirling and spinning around yours.

Distracting you with his kisses, he effortlessly pushes past your entrance, filling you up and making you feel whole once again. You moan and whine, all of your noises muted by his tongue pushing past your teeth and exploring your mouth as if he hadn’t ever kissed you before.

Kyle hits the right spots perfectly, his mind focused on bringing you the most pleasure possible. You squirm and writhe, your arousal elevated by the way his tip tickles your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuck—!” You cry out, burying your face into a pillow in an desperate attempt to muffle your sounds of delight. You just couldn’t keep quiet, no, not at all, not when he was fucking you like this. Not when he was fucking you so good.

You’re lost in a haze, a haze of satisfaction and pleasure, head empty except for thoughts of how good it felt whenever Kyle pumped into the right spots. You barely even notice his hand crawling up your scalp, fingers wrapping itself around the strands of your hair as he keeps your head buried in the comfort of your plush pillows.

He tugs on your hair, strong enough to lift your head to face him yet light enough to be barely painful, pulling your face closer to his so he could press kisses against your jawline.

Your noises of pleasure and gratification begin to crescendo as you feel yourself begin to climb to your peak, climbing to the climax as each thrust hit your g-spots perfectly. Your fingers curl around the bedsheets, gripping the fabric helplessly, feeling just so good, so satisfied with him filling your insides.

You felt whole again, like his dick was the one thing missing from the puzzle of you. Like he was the key to your soul, and sex was just the way you had to unlock your emotions.

“I’m gonna.. I’m—“

Your warning was abruptly interrupted as he pushed your head back down into the plush pillows and comforters. He knew he had to stop you from waking the kids.

“Just let it out for me, Y/N.” Kyle whispers against your skin, his voice sultry and smooth as his thrusts get deeper, harder, better.He was going to cum, and so were you.

Then, it happens.

You scream incoherently, screaming into the plush fluff of the pillows, screaming with pure delight. Indulgence crashes into you, your orgasm marking an end to your pursuit to climax. Your fingers tighten around the soft fabric, nails digging into your own palm, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You knew that Kyle was exceptionally good in bed; he always was. But there was something special when the two of you did it this time, something special in the way he thrust into you, something special in the way his lips pressed against yours.

Maybe that something special was the excitement of attempting to create another child.

You sigh and relax against the sheets, panting and out of breath as he releases your hair and plops down beside you, trying to catch his breath. Sweat pools beneath your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your neck, exhaustion overcoming your senses.

“That was really nice..” You sigh heavily, pressing a tender kiss to his temple, looking down only to see that he had already dozed off, eyes shut and lips parted slightly as his soft breaths hit your skin.

Tonight was a night you knew you’d never forget.

[hunnysnoops]

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Eleven:Sleeping Lessons

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

So enlist every ounce of your bright blood and off with their heads. Jump off the hook. You're not obliged to swallow anything that you despise.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: Despite churning feelings, you're stuck with the lingering presence of the one person you want to keep at a distance. You're drawn achingly close during the annual family camping trip.

Warnings: crude language and humour / suggestive? Perhaps? Maybe Idk / marijuana usage

MASTERLIST

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

While the others fight over setting up tents and who's sleeping where you find a secluded spot by the lake, away from the noise of your family. The sun is already high, casting a golden hue over everything. You lay your towel down on the warm sand and carefully apply sunscreen, feeling the cool lotion on your skin. The sun's rays are strong, and you can already feel the heat swallowing you.

As you settle onto your towel, the sand beneath it moulds to your body, offering a surprisingly comfortable spot. You close your eyes, letting the warmth seep into your skin. The sounds of nature surround you: the gentle lapping of the lake water, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the distant chatter of birds. It all blends into a soothing symphony that relaxes you.

You stretch out, feeling the sun's embrace intensify. The heat feels good, a stark contrast to the coolness of the lake water you plan to dip into later. You adjust your sunglasses and tilt your head back, exposing more of your face to the sun. The warmth is like a blanket, making you feel drowsy and content.

It wasn't often you spent time in nature, the last time you had truly been in it, Kyle almost died and you threw up. You didn't care to spend more time around both of your families, you were fine laying by the lake for the next couple of days while your brother and Ike scaled around the campsite and threw worms at each other.

Maybe you did need a reset. Somewhere there was no service and you could be alone for a while was ideal except you weren't alone, there was always that godforsaken freckled face that popped back into your head.

Your thoughts inevitably drift to Kyle, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now. You scold yourself for thinking about him again, reminding yourself that this is your time to relax. But it's hard to ignore the fluttering in your chest whenever you picture his smile and you want to kill yourself for it.

You shift slightly, turning onto your stomach, and prop yourself up on your elbows. The sun warms your back, and you feel every muscle relax under its soothing touch. You let your fingers play in the sand, drawing little patterns absentmindedly.

The lake glistens under the sun, the water sparkling like a sea of diamonds. A light breeze ruffles your hair, and you breathe in deeply, enjoying the fresh, clean scent of nature. You glance around, ensuring you're still alone, and allow yourself a small smile. This is perfect for you, the sun, and the tranquillity of the lake.

You roll over again, this time lying on your back. You stretch your arms above your head, feeling the stretch in your muscles. The sun is relentless, and you can feel your skin absorbing its warmth. You close your eyes, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the lake, and try to clear your mind.

Just as you're starting to drift into a light doze, you hear footsteps approaching. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will pass by without disturbing you. But then, you hear that familiar voice.

"Hey, is it cool if I swim?"

Your eyes snap open, and there he is- Kyle, standing with his towel slung over his shoulder, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze. Your heart skips a beat, and you force yourself to act naturally.

"I don't care," you say, hoping your voice sounds more casual than you feel.

"You coming in?"

You shake your head, trying to sound nonchalant. "Maybe later. I'm just going to stay here for a bit."

"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug, and heads towards the water.

You try to keep your eyes focused on the lake's horizon, the distant mountains, or the occasional boat drifting by. Anything but Kyle. But it's difficult not to steal a glance at him, especially when you hear the splash as he dives in. You can't resist. You turn your head slightly and see him emerge from the water, shaking his hair and looking effortlessly cool.

You scold yourself and look away quickly, but the image of Kyle, droplets of water glistening on his skin, is now etched in your mind. You try to distract yourself by adjusting your towel and applying more sunscreen, but your thoughts keep shifting back to him.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself peeking at him again. This time, he's swimming towards the shore, his strokes strong and smooth. As he gets closer, you quickly avert your gaze, staring determinedly at the sky.

But your eyes betray you once more. You catch yourself staring at him, watching as he wades through the shallow water and walks back onto the shore, water dripping off his body. The sun catches the droplets, making them sparkle like tiny crystals on his skin. He runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face.

Your cheeks feel warm, and you hope the sun can be blamed for the redness. You turn on your side, trying to hide your face, but you can feel the heat of your flush spreading. Kyle, thankfully oblivious, picks up his towel and starts drying off.

You bury your face in your arms, willing your heart to stop racing. The effort to appear unaffected is exhausting, and you can't help but wish, just for a moment, that Kyle would notice you the way you notice him. But for now, you'll keep pretending, hoping he doesn't catch you staring again.

You try to distract yourself, but your eyes keep going back to Kyle, you're even irritating yourself. His muscles flex as he dries off, each movement drawing your gaze like a magnet. You can see the way his shoulders and arms move with effortless strength, and you can't help but admire the definition in his chest and abs. The sun glints off his damp skin, highlighting every curve and contour.

You feel your cheeks flush even more as you catch yourself staring. You quickly look away, but it's too late. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kyle glancing your way, a curious expression on his face. He's about to say something, his mouth opening slightly, and your heart leaps into your throat.

Just then, the sound of laughter and pounding footsteps draws both your attention. Weston and Ike come barreling down the beach, shouting and laughing. They barely pause as they run past you and Kyle, charging straight into the lake with little giggles escaping from their lips.

"Watch out, watch out!" Weston yells, jetting down the dock and cannonballing into the water, inches away from Ike. You can hear that painful slap of water against the skin as he hits the lake, the surface. Already, you know that his sunburn is going to be aching in mere hours.

Ike opens his mouth, cackling as Weston brings himself back up to the surface in painful gasps, one hand bracing his back where skin peels from his burn. "Dude, that was awesome!"

"I know!" He shakes off the pain and gives Ike a firm and brisk high five.

"Oh god," Kyle mutters, watching the two go back and forth in jumping from the dock "Those two were made for each other."

You hadn't even been paying attention to what he was saying, you were distracted by his smile. It's the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, crinkling them at the corners and lighting up his entire face. Quickly you scramble for something to say and pray that it makes sense in the context "A fish is going to crawl up your penis."

"What?" His smile drops and he turns to look at you, eyebrows drawn together.

"I saw it once on monsters inside me, a fish parasite thing wiggled its way into some guy's dick hole and he almost died," You tell him, leaning back like this statement made you seem cool.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The Amazon penis fish."

"Well this is a lake in Colorado, I think I'm fine and you're fucking insane," There's a sting of animosity in his voice but you can see that familiar glint of amusement in his hazel eyes.

"Yeah? Well, have fun, some fish is probably twiddling your balls as we speak."

Weston pulls himself back up to the dock "Hey!" He calls over to you and Kyle, when he doesn't catch your attention he speaks again "Hey, watch me do a backflip or you're gay!" With that Weston turns his back to the lake and preps himself to do a flip.

Weston takes a deep breath, then bends his knees and launches himself into the air. For a split second, it looks like he might actually pull it off. But then, his rotation slows, and you realize with a sinking feeling that he's not going to make it.

Time seems to slow as Weston flails mid-air, his arms windmilling in a desperate attempt to right himself. You hear Ike's excited cheers turn into a gasp, and you hold your breath, hoping for a soft landing.

Instead of slipping into the water, his head smacks against the dock before his burnt back slaps on the surface of the water. The lake's surface ripples outwards, and for a moment, there's an eerie silence.

"Oh my god!" You shriek, immediately pushing yourself off the shore and rushing into the water, panic seeping into your veins. Just as you're waist deep into the water, Weston resurfaces.

"That hurt like a fucking bitch!" he calls out, wincing a little but clearly more embarrassed than hurt.

"Thank god you have enough brain damage this won't make a difference," You can feel yourself slump with relief. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, man," He says, rubbing the back of his head where he hit it "Don't have a bitch fit."

Your face quickly drops from concern into unamusement "Watch it, shrimp, I will slam your head against that dock eight more times if you say that again."

"Okay, okay," He raises his hands in defence "I'm sorry."

"Seriously," You hold your hands out gesturing for Weston to come closer "Let me see your head."

"No way, blud."

"Don't call me blud and let me see your head," When Weston slinks away once more, you reach forward and snatch him, putting him in a headlock while you examine the back of his head for some sort of threatening injury.

"Ah, let go!" He thrashes, kicking the water helplessly but it's futile.

"Say, uncle!" You shout.

"No way!" He grabs your wrists trying to pry you off.

"Say it!"

After a little back and forth of Weston trying to squirm away from your headlock and you refusing to let up, he finally forfeits, tapping your arm "Uncle!" He says, at last, taking in a large gulp of air the moment you release him. "Yeah, whatever man," He gives you the stink eye, looking away before an idea strikes him and he whips back around to look at you "Let's play chicken!"

"What?"

He ignores you, looking past you and flagging down Kyle "Kyle, let's play chicken!"

Kyle tossed his towel back down, drying off was futile as he headed straight back for the water. "Weston, you're so heavy now," You groan, head rocking back slightly. Before when you would play chicken with him, he was a string bean little boy, now he was hitting a growth spurt, getting older and eating enough to feed a football team for a fortnight just to keep him energized.

"I'm not gonna be your partner anyway," He says, smugly.

"Wait, what?" You ask "You're going with Kyle?"

Weston shakes his head, slinging an arm around his best friend "Me and Ike are going to clear."

"No, you're not," You almost laugh.

"We so are," Ike adds.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, we'll win."

"You two are like ninety pounds combined."

"You wish," Your brother scoffs.

"Okay Twinkle-Toes, you and your dainty little boyfriend want to go against me and his 6'4 brother?" You ask with an eyebrow quirked and Weston nods "Yeah, seems fair."

You hesitate, the thought of playing such a close-contact game with Kyle makes your heart race. But the boys are relentless, already pairing off—Weston climbing onto Ike's shoulders.

"Please?" Weston pleads, looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Are you guys sure?" Kyle asks from behind you, he was also in the boat this wouldn't be fair for the scraggly boys.

"Yes, we've been practicing!"

"Practicing chicken?" You almost wrinkle your nose "Shouldn't you be talking to girls and learning how to shave or something?"

"They don't have anything to shave," Kyle teases.

"Uh, we totally do," Ike retorts "I got a stache coming in."

"What? Let me see that," Kyle gestures for Ike to lean in closer, when he does Kyle leans in with narrowed eyebrows like he's inspecting the peach fuzz before he pinches one of the hairs between two fingers and rips it out.

"Ow!" Ike quickly retracts, one hand protectively covering his upper lip. On his shoulders, Weston wobbles slightly, digging his fingernails into his friend's forehead to keep him stable. Ike cusses, swatting at your brother to move his hands.

"Hurry up!" Weston tries to command you whilst simultaneously trying to situate himself on Ike's shoulders.

Kyle crouches down in the water, offering his hands to help you climb onto his shoulders. "Ready?" he asks, looking up at you.

You hesitate, your mind racing with doubts. "I don't know," you say, chewing on your lower lip. "I'm not sure if I'm light enough."

Kyle laughs softly, shaking his head. "Trust me, you're lighter than you think. Come on, let's give it a try."

"I dunno, I'm too heavy, I'll crush you-

"You won't," He cuts you off "You're fine."

You take a deep breath and nod, placing your hands on his shoulders. He lifts you effortlessly, and you settle onto his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your thighs. For once, you were nervous before a game.

"You okay up there?" Kyle asks, his voice close to your ear, tinged with amusement.

You nod, unable to trust your voice just yet. The view from Kyle's shoulders is unexpectedly thrilling-higher than you anticipated, with a unique vantage point over the lake. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back moving beneath your legs.

As you steady yourself, the boys cheer, encouraging Kyle to move closer to the edge of the dock. You glance down at the water below, realizing just how high up you are. The breeze ruffles your hair, and you can't help but grip Kyle's shoulders a little tighter.

"Move away from the dock, you idiots," You wave for the boys to shuffle to the side so your brother doesn't smack his head again.

Weston and Ike face off against you and Kyle, the water around you splashing as the boys get into position. "Ready, set, go!" Ike shouts, and the game begins.

You can visibly see Weston's face drop when he notices the large gap between heights, you and Kyle almost towering over him and Ike. He tries to shove you but his hands end up barely skimming your stomach, you however, knock him off Ike in one light shove to the shoulders he falls back into the water with a splash.

"What the fuck?" Weston resurfaces, brushing his wet hair out of his face. Games were much more matched when it was siblings vs siblings, Weston was taller than Ike which helped to balance out the difference.

"Seriously, watch your language you little fucker," You say, pointedly.

You try to keep your focus, but every time you glance down, you're acutely aware of how close you are to Kyle. His muscles flex beneath you, and you can feel the power in his movements as he supports you. It's both thrilling and distracting.

"Bro, you got this," Ike says to him. Weston nods and they share an odd handshake before Weston climbs back onto his friend's shoulders.

"I don't get it, what's the secret move you've been practicing?" You ask, eyebrows drawn together.

Weston abruptly karate chops you in the gut, not nearly as hard as he intended. You don't do much, just look at his flailing arms trying to hit you. He tries to hit you in the gut again but with one push to his shoulder, he falls with a splash, scowling as Ike tries to catch him.

He coughs up water when he comes back up "How are you doing that?"

"How do you think?" Ike shakes his head at his friend.

"Want to switch teams?" Kyle asks the pair.

"No," Weston says immediately, holding a hand out to Kyle as if to signal stop "We just need to regroup."

"Okay," You tap Kyle on the top of his head "Let me down, I'm heading back to shore while these clowns wrestle each other and call it practice."

Kyle gently lowers you onto the dock. His hands slide down your legs with a feather-light touch, sending a shiver up your spine. As you slip into the water, the coolness creeps up your skin.

You wade back to the shallow end of the lake, feeling the cool water lap at your legs. The boys continue their antics on the dock, but you find a quiet moment to catch your breath.

Kyle follows you, his presence a shadow beside you. You glance at him, and he's already looking your way. You offer a shy smile, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear, feeling the warmth of the sun and the lingering flush on your cheeks.

As you settle onto the sandy shore, lying back on your towel, you close your eyes and let the sun's warmth envelop you once more. You can hear the boys laughing and splashing in the distance, but your mind keeps going back to Kyle. The way he looks at you, the sound of his laughter, the feel of his hands steadying you during the game- it's all raw in your head.

Unbeknownst to you, Kyle can't seem to take his eyes off you. He's standing a few feet away, ostensibly watching Ike and Weston, but his gaze keeps roaming back to where you lie in the sun. His expression softens as he takes in the sight of you, relaxed and content, your skin glowing in the golden light.

Kyle tries to focus on the boys' antics, but it proves to be a weak distraction. He notices the way your hair catches the sunlight, the curve of your smile, the way your eyes light up when you laugh. He watches as you absentmindedly hum along to whatever song is stuck in your head.

He notices the gentle curve of your smile as you glance back at him, your eyes reflecting the colours of the lake and the sky. Your figure, moving gracefully in your swimsuit cover-up, seems to glide effortlessly. Kyle is mesmerized by your presence, struck by how effortlessly you captivate him.

Lost in admiration, Kyle follows you with his gaze, taking in every detail—the way you adjust your earrings, the way you brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He finds himself captivated by your presence, the way you seem so at ease yet full of life. His heart skips a beat, and he feels an unexpected warmth spread through him. The realization that he's been staring hits him, and he quickly looks away, hoping you didn't notice.

But the draw is too strong, and his eyes find their way back to you. He watches as you adjust your position, stretching out your legs and letting out a contented sigh.

You reach beside you to retrieve a bottle of tanning oil. The sun feels warm and comforting on your skin, and you begin applying the oil to your arms and legs, feeling the slick texture glisten in the sunlight. You had been in your bathing suit around Kyle more times than you could count, why now did you feel so awkward under his eyes?

When you attempt to reach your back, you quickly realize it's going to be a challenge. You twist your arm awkwardly behind you, straining to spread the oil evenly. The more you try, the more you fumble, feeling the bottle slip slightly in your oily hands. "Weston!" You call out, trying to bring your brother over for a little help but he's unresponsive "Weston!"

You crane your neck and see him glance at you before turning away. He looks past Ike at some trees, and before you can call for him again he sticks his middle finger up in your direction and dives into the water.

"Little fucker," You mutter, matching the gesture. "Kyle?" you look up, your voice a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

He turns to you, his smile instant. "Yeah?"

You hold up the bottle of tanning oil, trying to maintain a breezy tone. "Would you mind helping me with this? I can't quite reach my back."

Kyle seems a little caught off guard by the request though he makes an effort not to let his timidness show "Uh, yeah, sure."

As you lie down on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows, you feel a flutter of nervous excitement. Kyle kneels beside you, squeezing some oil into his hands and rubbing them together. The warmth of the sun on your skin is nothing compared to the heat you feel from his proximity.

Kyle's hands make contact with your shoulders, and you fight not to shudder under his hands. His touch is gentle but firm as he starts to spread the oil, his fingers gliding over your skin. He works methodically, starting at your shoulders and moving down your back in smooth, even strokes. His hands are warm and sure, yet there's a slight hesitance in his movements as if he's aware of the intimacy of the moment.

"Is this okay?" Kyle asks softly, his voice close to your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You nod, working to keep your voice steady. "Yup."

As Kyle continues, you close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of his hands on your back. Each touch is careful and considerate, his fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder blades, the dip of your spine. You can feel the tension melting away with every stroke, the warmth of his hands spreading through your entire body. The closeness of the moment makes your heart race, and you have to remind yourself to breathe steadily.

Kyle's face is slightly flushed as well, concentrating on the task at hand. He tries to stay focused, but he can't help but notice the smoothness of your skin, the way the sun highlights the delicate contours of your back. His heart beats a little faster with each stroke, feeling the warmth of your skin under his hands.

"There you go," Kyle says finally, his voice breaking the trance. He lingers for a moment, his hands still resting lightly on your back, before he pulls away.

"Hey, do you have a water bottle?" Weston, heavy-breathed and cheeks flushed emerges from the water like a sea creature, wiping snot away from his nose and killing any chemistry immediately. At the sight of your little brother, Kyle stands up, putting distance between you though it doesn't stop Weston from shooting him a dirty glare that goes unnoticed by you.

"Yeah, it's in my bag," You point at the half-opened bag chilling underneath the tree where you had left it so it wouldn't get too hot.

Weston runs over, not before shaking out his wet hair on you like a dog. You aren't focused on your little brother rifling around in your bag like an addict, he lets out a sharp gasp, gathering the bag in its entirety and holding up a bottle of cranberry-apple juice. "Uh, what the sigma bruh."

"You need to get him off the internet," You say immediately, almost instinctually.

"Why do you have a cocktail in your bag?" He asks shaking the bottle and raising a brow. You narrow your eyes reading the label 'Apple-Cranberry Cocktail'. It was clear your not-very-bright brother didn't realize that it was just a bottle of juice but you chose to play along.

"Oh my god," You mutter, feigning shock "Don't tell Mom and Dad-

"Aha!" Weston smiles "Can I have some?"

"I dunno, shrimp, it's pretty strong," You bit back the true fact that cocktail only meant there was added sugar and water mixed in the juice, not alcohol like he was imagining.

"If you don't give the rest to me and Ike I'll tell our parents that you're drinking on the family trip," He says smugly. Behind him, Kyle bites back laughter, catching on to what you were doing.

"Okay, fine!" You raise your hands in defeat "Just don't tell anyone and you have to act sober, promise?"

"Promise," Weston reiterates, he doesn't wait for another word from you before running back down the dock to rehash the last two minutes with Ike. The second he's out of range and no longer paying attention to you and Kyle, you bury your head into your hands, shaking with laughter. Whenever you felt stupid you could rely on your very gullible brother to make you feel brighter.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

As the evening settles into the comforting routine of a camping trip, the crackling fire at the campsite sends soft, dancing shadows across the clearing. The hum of conversation was not quiet in the slightest, Ike and Weston were laughing loudly amongst themselves, the placebo effect was seemingly working and the two really thought they were drunk from the bottle of juice you gave them.

Your parents and his spoke back and forth about the election; dog piling on each other in approval and screaming into their echo chamber. "I know, right?" Sheila says. The wine coolers had made her tongue loose and her accent was now as strong as ever.

Kyle awkwardly fiddled with the cuffs of his flannel. You had taken off before the fire was even lit, informing the group that you would be back shortly but now it had been almost an entire hour and it was like you had disappeared as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"I'll be right back," he tells his parents, receiving a nod of acknowledgment. He stands up, brushing off his jeans, and glances around the circle one last time before stepping into the cool, enveloping darkness of the forest. The transition from the firelit clearing to the shadowy woods is immediate and striking. The air grows cooler, the scent of pine and damp earth more pronounced.

Kyle moves cautiously, his footsteps barely making a sound on the soft forest floor covered in fallen leaves and pine needles. He squints, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light, using the blue light bouncing off his almost useless phone to steer clear of trees. His senses are heightened, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs catching his attention. The moonlight filters through the canopy above, casting silvery patches of light that guide his way.

He follows a faint path, one he remembers from earlier explorations. His heart beats a little faster, a mix of worry and anticipation pushing him forward. He stops occasionally, listening intently for any sound that might indicate your presence.

He calls your name softly, not wanting to disturb the tranquil forest more than necessary. His voice seems to vanish into the dense trees, absorbed by the night.

After a few more minutes of walking, he notices a faint, warm glow ahead. He approaches quietly, the glow becoming more defined as he draws nearer. Peering through the trees, he finally spots you, leaning against a sturdy oak, a joint glowing softly between your fingers. The orange ember casts a delicate light on your face, highlighting your features in the serene darkness.

Kyle's chest tightens at the sight of you, standing there alone and seemingly lost in thought. He takes a moment to appreciate the scene, the way the soft light plays across your skin, the contemplative look in your eyes as you exhale a thin stream of smoke. As he draws closer, the smell of marijuana becomes unmistakable.

Gathering his composure, Kyle steps forward, his voice low and gentle to avoid startling you. "Hey."

You turn to look at him, eyes half-lidded and tinged red "Hey, man."

"You okay?"

You nod and offer up a lazy smile, holding the joint out towards him "You don't have to smoke, just know I'm already fried."

Kyle takes it, his touch warm and reassuring. He takes a slow drag, holding it in for a moment before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. He passes it back to you, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. You hadn't expected him to actually take up your offer.

"Didn't know you were still smoking pot," he says softly, leaning against the tree beside you.

You shrug, taking another drag before handing the joint back to him. "I haven't, most days. Just...sometimes, when I need to think."

Kyle nods, taking another drag. "The woods are a good place for that."

You both fall into silence, the joint passing between you in a relaxed rhythm. The night air is cool, and the sounds of the forest provide a soothing backdrop. The shared act of smoking together feels intimate, a quiet connection that strengthens with each passing moment.

"So why are you out here being all mysterious?" He could tell when it really hit him, that light feeling washing over his body.

"I just can't relax."

"Why?"

"You make me nervous." You take the joint back from Kyle, feeling the warmth from where his fingers touched yours. The joint is almost finished now, just a few more puffs left. You take a slow drag, savouring the earthy, slightly sweet taste before exhaling a thin stream of smoke that mingles with the cool night air. The world seems to slow down around you like every image is moving in frames.

"I make you nervous?" The response wasn't what he was expecting. Did he make you nervous? Since when? Never once had he even heard you utter something similar. "Why?"

You shake your head "Can't say."

"Are you- uncomfortable or something?"

"Nah," You take a moment to gather your jumbled thoughts "This life thing is just complicated."

"We're cool though?" After the concert, he noticed you dodging his messages and calls. He truly thought that he had messed up when he got between you and that guy or maybe he had been too close for comfort and you didn't want to be around him anymore.

"Yeah, we're cool."

You hand the joint back to Kyle, who takes the last drag before stubbing it out against the tree. He tucks the remains away, turning to face you fully. There's a moment of silence, filled with unspoken words and shared understanding. His eyes are soft and sincere, reflecting the moonlight.

The moment stretches, filled with the quiet intensity of your connection. The forest around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own private world. Kyle's gaze drifts to your lips, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you or at least you hope he will.

Instead, he raises his hand and lands it firmly on your shoulder, nodding at you like either of you had spoken, eyelids heavy. You match the gesture, planting your hand on his shoulder and nodding until the both of you erupt in giggles at the absurdity of it all.

Your hand on him falters and eventually, you fall into him, shaking with laughter, your elevated state making everything seem far more comedic than it was. Your head presses against his chest as you laugh, we wrap an arm around you, trying to keep himself stable as well with his cackling.

"Okay, okay," You tap his midriff until he releases you, but still you can't control your giggles. "We gotta go back."

Kyle and you walk back to the campfire, the stead of your private moment in the woods still palpable between you. As you approach, you both straighten your posture, trying to appear composed and casual despite the not-so-subtle buzz from the joint. The campfire crackles with renewed intensity, casting flickering shadows across the group gathered around it.

Your parents and Kyle's are engaged in animated conversation, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the fire. You exchange a quick glance with Kyle, a silent agreement passing between you to maintain your composure.

Kyle settles himself onto the log laid out like a bench as Weston and Ike had taken to sitting in your foldable lawn chairs. You sit as well, only you feel too far away from him and awkwardly shuffle down the log until you're inches away from skimming his arm.

It didn't seem like anyone had noticed your return, each of them too wrapped up in their own conversations to care.

The two boys start giggling uncontrollably, exaggerating their movements as they stumble around the edge of the firelight. Weston clutches at his stomach dramatically, while Ike pretends to slur his words, his laughter punctuating his attempts at acting tipsy.

"Dude, I think I've had too much s'mores," Weston declares loudly, leaning against a nearby tree as if struggling to keep his balance.

Ike nods seriously, his voice slightly slurred. "Yeah, me too. I feel like... like I'm floating!"

Their antics draw amused chuckles and gentle admonitions from the adults, who exchange seemingly knowing glances at the boys' playful mimicry. Your parents and Kyle's parents exchange amused glances, trying not to laugh too openly at the boys' antics.

You had forgotten entirely that the two boys thought you had actually given them liquor. They think they're sneaky in passing back the bottle of cranberry-apple juice like it's vodka.

While watching your younger brothers, you and Kyle stifle giggles. "Bruh, stop gooning for my sister," Weston says, pointing an accusatory finger at Kyle, words slurred and one eye slowly twitching.

Both of you were unphased in your state, "You don't even know what that means," You say, crossing your arms. "Mom, your son has brain rot."

"That's why we're out here, reconnecting with nature, Jellybean," She says with a smile, it was clear she was past tipsy as well. Ironically Weston and Ike were the only sober ones in the group.

"Did you hear that, Wes?" You ask "We're reconnecting with nature because you're an idiot with a screen addiction."

"Woah, pump the hate breaks," Your dad cuts in, hands out like he's trying to separate a fight.

"Yeah, pump the hate breaks," Weston repeats, staggering a bit in his step.

Your dad raises an eyebrow at his son, watching as he acts out theatrically how he thinks a drunk person would behave. His eyes narrow in on the bottle in his hand that he holds partially behind his back.

"Hey, give me that," Your dad holds his hand out for the bottle of juice your brothers had been taking little sips from throughout the night. He takes a swig, reading the label and nodding before holding it back out for Weston to take "Yum, who gave you juice?"

Weston glares at you, his face dropping completely once the realization strikes him that he's been swindled. You can see embarrassment flush his face as he immediately goes back to acting how he normally does. He mutters something to Ike who also meets you with a glare before the two call it a night and retreat to their tent- presumably to scheme against you.

The second they're gone, you and Kyle break out in laughter once again. You slump against him, burying your face into your hands as your body convulsed with laughter. Kyle had his elbows on his thighs and dipped his head down, trying to conceal his chuckles.

Your dad pauses his conversation and furrows his eyebrows whilst sniffing the air "Someone's smoking the devil's lettuce," He shakes his head with disapproval "Imagine being out here in all this wilderness and you just can't get off life."

"I know, so sad," You concur, nodding your head and stifling your smile. You were thankful that they were too drunk to realize you were high.

"Look at you two," Your dad gestures at you and Kyle "This is what I'm talking about, just two straight-edge kids enjoying life and managing to overcome their rivalry," His voice cracks and for a moment you think he might cry.

"So sweet," Your mom pouts, placing one hand on your dad's shoulder.

"That's an awesome jacket, Gerald," You say with a dazed smile, unintentionally ignoring your parents remarks "You must have a good heart."

He looks down at his corduroy jacket before looking back up at you with sincere eyes, placing a hand on his heart while his other cradles a white claw "Thank you."

Your thoughts drift again like they were moving at a mile a minute, you nudge Kyle "Fake boobs are crazy because it's like the nipple is giving you stink eye, am I spitting facts right now?"

"Yes," Kyle exasperated wholeheartedly. He runs his hands down his face "I've been saying that for so long."

"Facts," You nod in contentment. "Look, a shooting star," You point towards the sky, finger following a white blur moving through the inky darkness.

"That's a plane."

"Ah, I see," You say.

"How's Bebe holding up?" He tilts his head to look at you.

"Fine," You shrug.

"With her dog and everything?"

"Bebe doesn't have a dog," It takes you a moment

"What?" His eyebrows furrow "Why did you say her dog got put down when I called you last week?"

"That's redacted," You draw out, turning your gaze to the blazing fire in front of you.

"What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with you?" You counter his question. Silence stretches between you as Kyle's gaze drills into the side of your head, unwavering from you. "Sorry for being weird," You mutter.

He shakes his head "You're always weird."

"That's why you like me."

It takes a beat but a small smile forms on his lips, "Yeah, it is."

"What if I said I was lesbian?" You ask, shifting the mood.

"Are you?"

"No but what if."

He shrugs "I dunno, I don't think I would care."

"Mhm," You mentally take down his answer.

You jolt when you feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, settling only when you smell your mom's familiar perfume and the wine on her breath. She rocks you side to side slightly, kissing the top of your head "I love you so so much, Jellybean."

"Love you too, Mom," You smile, giving her a little pat on the arm.

"And I love you most," Your dad cuts into the moment between you and your mother "And I love you too Kyle," He points at the ginger boy beside you who squirms awkwardly under his drowsy stare. "Beautiful children."

"You've drunk too much," You say bluntly.

"That I have," Your dad agrees "That's why we're hitting the hay, goodnight, Jellybean, and Kyle, Gerald, and Sheila. We're having oatmeal in the morning," He announces at last before disappearing into the darkness without your mother.

Your mom slings an arm around Kyle as well, Drawing the three of you in close with a squeeze. She finally lets go, kissing the top of your head once more "Goodnight my gorgeous babies."

Sheila comes around to give both you and Kyle a brief drunken hug before retreating to her tent whilst Gerald settles for ruffling your hair. "Put the fire out, remember what Smokey the Bear said." He tells you, following his wife and leaving you and Kyle alone in front of the dying fire.

You and Kyle settle into silence, for once it isn't uncomfortable, you don't feel the urge to rush and fill the stillness. You soak into the quiet like a warm bath of security, his steady breathing beside you and eyes absentmindedly studying each of your features.

The weed left you both in a state of blissful relaxation, your senses heightened and laughter lingering.

You rise to your feet, feeling an inescapable urge and carrying way more confidence than you're used to. The flames of the bonfire flicker and dance, casting a glow over you and shadows to the trees surrounding the little clearing.

You turn to Kyle who is still seated, watching you with his imploring eyes, reflecting the firelight. "Let's dance," You hold out your hand expectantly.

He shakes his head, a shy smile plays on his lips "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"C'mon, it's like your stupid fucking TikTok dances."

"You love my stupid fucking TikTok dances."

"I guess," You shrug, smiling wide. Undeterred, you take a step forward "Please? just for a minute, we're high, it's fun."

Kyle hesitates for a moment, then slowly reaches out to take your hand. You pull him to his feet, feeling a little pang of victory at the fact you had coerced him into standing in front of you. With no music to guide you, you hum sloppily, muttering some lyrics while skipping others to a song both of you are familiar with.

You start to sway, your body moving in sync with the gentle breeze. Kyle stands stiff and awkward at first, but you gently pull him closer, fingers intertwining with his. Thanks to some herbs in your system, you had shed all of the nervousness that you spent the past week harbouring, you didn't have to act casual, you just were.

You were the one guiding him, your bodies gradually finding a shared rhythm and like that, the initial awkwardness melts away. "I knew you'd be good at this," You say quickly between verses, trying to keep in tune with the song you were mimicking.

The space between you closes and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours. Kyle held you by your waist while your arms hung behind his neck. He could feel the softness of your skin beneath your clothes, fingers sinking into the plush of your midriff.

You spin, your laughter mingling with Kyle's. The little twirl leaves you much more disoriented than intended, Kyle holds his arm out, stopping you from stumbling into the fizzling-out fire.

"And- I forgot the rest of the lyrics," You laugh, plopping yourself down onto the ground, back leaning against the log.

Kyle seats himself next to you as you catch your breath, smiling while heavy pants escape from your lips. You look beside you and find him shamelessly staring at you, his gaze is drowsy and lethargic.

"God, I'm a mess," you run a hand through your hair, feeling the weight of his stare.

"You're glowing!" Kyle smiles brightly, tilting his head as he takes you in, bathed beneath what remains of the bonfire "Seriously, a human halo." You pause, turning to face him. He smiles at you, wholeheartedly and genuinely, you can't help but match it for a brief moment before it slips from your face "Woah."

"What?" You ask.

His eyes fell on your smile, the way you laugh. He was analyzing the upturn of your lips and the smile lines that formed like he was staring into the centre of a thousand suns, he couldn't look away. Kyle was studying the gaps in your teeth like they were the darkness between stars.

"You're weird," You shake your head. Kyle didn't realize that he had gone unresponsive for a minute while he bore his gaze into you and spoke to himself in his head.

Your attention turns to the firepit as the last few embers wade out one by one, smothered in ash. You were left beneath the dark of the sky and the slivers of light that glimmered off stars in the clear summer sky.

"I don't wanna make you nervous," Kyle breaks the silence.

"You're still thinking about that?"

"Yeah," Kyle mutters. It had been nagging at him, your words out in the woods. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable or nervous, he just wanted you to like him so you could keep going for runs and going for drives that led to nowhere.

"Well, I take it back," You announce. "I am super not nervous around you."

"That's good," Kyle can feel relief wash over his tingly limbs "I kinda like you and your stupid jokes," He says, head lulling back "You have some funny ones in there."

You stare at the once brazing firepit, scraping your mind for something to do before the both of you succumb to sleep on an old log. "Wanna go for a swim?"

He raises an eyebrow "Right now?"

"Yes, now," You insist, already feeling the thrill of the idea taking hold "No one's up, it's the perfect time."

Part of Kyle wanted to disagree, to put his foot down and turn in for the night but looking at you beneath the stars he couldn't find the words to tell you no "Alright, let's do it."

You almost let out a shriek of excitement, suddenly feeling wide awake as the two of you weave through the trees and reach the lake.

The surface of it glistens under the moonlight, inviting and serene. Almost like your brother had hours before, you find the elation to run down the dock, shoes slamming against the creaky wood. Kyle is more hesitant, hanging back and watching you halt at the edge.

You stand, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you begin to strip your clothes. It was like a brand new sense of freedom in the act, a liberation that came with shedding your layers and letting the marijuana make the decisions for you. You glance back at Kyle who keeps shooting his head back and forth to be sure there isn't anyone else out there, his paranoia setting in.

Half-naked and exhilarated, you kick your clothing to the side. Backing away from the dock end, you take a deep breath before taking a running start into your leap, screaming as you do so. You were howling like a wolf into the moon that hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light that made the surface of the lake shimmer like a thousand tiny stars.

Moments later, you resurface with laughter, the water is cool and invigorating. "Kyle, come in!"

You wade in the water, waiting for him to appear at the edge of the dock. Surely, there he is, sheepishly stripping down to his boxers and almost painfully obviously avoiding looking in your direction. He gathers himself in a deep breath much like you had though he doesn't flail his arms and legs as he jumps, instead diving gracefully into the water and leaving almost no splash at all.

"Wow," You grin "You should be an Olympian."

"No thanks," He shakes his head like you were offering him the opportunity.

Tilting backwards, you let yourself float on your back, staring up at the stars. As you float in the cool, moonlit water, the tension between you and Kyle becomes almost tangible. The night is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the water against your bodies and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

Kyle moves through the water with effortless grace, each stroke causing ripples that catch the moonlight and shimmer like liquid silver. You watch him intently, your eyes tracing the flex of his muscles as he swims. His broad shoulders and strong arms cut through the water with a powerful, fluid motion, the play of light and shadow accentuating every curve and contour of his body.

The water clings to his skin, droplets glistening like tiny jewels on his tanned, muscular frame, dotted with freckles like kisses from the sun. As he turns to face you, you catch a glimpse of his chiselled chest and the way the water cascades down in rivulets, highlighting the definition of his abs. The glucose monitor on his left arm. He's breathtaking. You didn't know whether to blame yourself or the weed but you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

Your mind is a swirl of emotions, the effects of the joint you shared earlier making everything feel heightened and surreal. The warmth of his smile, the intensity of his gaze, the way his body moves with such effortless grace- it all leaves you feeling dazed and confused. You want to look away, to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, but you can't. Your eyes are drawn to him, captivated by the magnetic pull of his presence.

Kyle swims closer, the distance between you shrinking with each powerful stroke. You watch the muscles in his back and shoulders flex and contract, the water gliding smoothly over his skin. The moonlight catches in his wet hair, turning it into a halo of silver and gold. He's close now, so close that you can see the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes, the way his lips curve into a knowing smile.

He finds himself drawn to the small, almost imperceptible details—the way your lips curve into a soft smile as you catch sight of him watching you, the sparkle in your eyes that matches the glittering water around you. He's struck by the way the moonlight highlights the scar on your nose, a feature he finds uniquely beautiful.

Kyle watches as you disappear beneath the water, his heart pounding in anticipation. He can see the faint outline of your form beneath the surface, the moonlight casting ghostly shadows that dance around you. He holds his breath, waiting for you to resurface, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

Moments later, you break through the surface, water cascading from your hair and shoulders, droplets sparkling like diamonds in the moonlight. You're so close to him now that he can feel the slight disturbance in the water, the warmth of your presence mingling with the coolness of the lake.

Your proximity takes his breath away. The water drips from your face, your eyes shining with reflections off the water. The moonlight catches the droplets on your skin, turning them into a constellation of tiny stars that highlight the natural beauty of your features. Your lips part slightly as if you're about to speak, but the words hang in the air, unspoken.

"Sorry," You huff out between deep breaths, trying to regain the air you missed while submerged.

Just as you're about to put distance between you Kyle moves closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You can see the depth of his feelings in those eyes, a mixture of longing and tenderness that makes your heart quicken. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand cupping your face with a touch so gentle it sends shivers down your spine. His palm is warm against your cool skin, the contrast creating a sensation that anchors you both in the moment.

His thumb begins to move in slow, soothing circles over the small scar on your nose, a faint reminder of the last time the two of you had gotten high and you smashed your nose against his kitchen island. The gesture is so tender, so intimate, that your breath hitches in your throat. A mark you were once self-conscious about, but the way Kyle traces it, you almost feel beautiful.

He murmurs something incoherent to your ears, his voice a soft, hushed whisper that seems to blend with the gentle lapping of the water.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the anticipation and tension between you almost overwhelming. You can feel the heat of his hand against your skin, the steady beat of his heart as he draws closer. His gaze is locked onto yours, his eyes filled with unspoken emotions that leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

For a moment, you're certain he's going to kiss you. His lips are so close, his breath warm against your neck, and the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The thought sends a rush of emotions through you- excitement, fear, longing- all mingling in a whirlwind that makes you dizzy.

But as much as you want this, the intensity of the moment becomes entirely too much. The vulnerability, the closeness, the raw honesty- it all feels overwhelming, amplified by the persisting effects of the joint you shared earlier. The confusion and heightened senses make everything feel too intense, too real.

Without thinking, you duck your head underwater, seeking the cool, quiet refuge beneath the surface. The world above becomes a muted, distant place as you glide through the water, the coolness soothing your racing heart. You can still feel the warmth of Kyle's touch, the residual sensation of his thumb on your scar, but here, beneath the water, it feels more manageable, less overwhelming.

You let the water wrap you like silk. Submerged, you think for a moment that you're making it all up inside your head, you almost wish it was all fake and you had never reached out your hand to share your joint but there he waits for you to come up for air.

[ashartstuff]

The harsh reality of writing creek fanfiction 😔

[s0uth3park]

D or E? :3 /nf

Even though Craig lost, it is here. I’m actually ashamed with how it turned out (it was better in my head and I know I can do better), but you all asked and so I delivered (you’re gonna send it back to the kitchen, I know it).

Tags for the other people who also showed interested / voted for Craig in the notes: @wannabe-minion-of-chaos @southparkfallenill @navynew @undeserved-halo

Let me know what you think, but just be warned, it’s pretty much a nothing burger.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Calling all enjoyers of the OrangeJuiceVerse and teenage shenanigans!

That’s right, it’s time for another episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE, and this one is SO self indulgent like I know that’s the purpose of this series, just self indulgent orange flavored bonus content, but this one, mannnnn.

Essentially (PCE stfu about OJV Kyle’s bad knee), I was thinking about how i really didn’t let my annoying ass get into the gang as 15 year olds very much post A Fall In The Springtime. So I wanted to explore that dynamic a little more, featuring stupid fights, getting scolded by your parents, Kyle being an angry little fucker, and the way one person in a friend group getting sick means everyone’s getting the plague lmao. Set a couple days after AFITS, here’s

•Fuck It, We Ball•

Stan sighed as he approached the bus stop, Cartman and Kyle already engrossed in whatever they were arguing about now. And so it begins.

He planted himself at Kenny’s side, kicking at the slush that had refrozen with the temperature dropping again over the last few days. Damn March and its unpredictability. “Dude, how do they have the energy for this at seven in the morning?”

“Oh, you know how these two get when they’re bored,” Kenny said nonchalantly. “Probably why Ky suggested takin’ the bus today.”

That made sense. While Stan and the others had taken to making their own ways to school being sophomores, carpooling and the like for the most part, occasionally they’d all load up on the bus for nostalgia’s sake on days nobody had to stay late for extracurriculars. Kyle had been leading the charge in that the past couple weeks, bored being out of basketball and irritable while his knee healed. It honestly wasn’t surprising that he’d find excitement in the childhood routine of debating Cartman, and Cartman just liked to rile Kyle up in general, not that it was hard these days. Stan had laughed his ass off just the other day at his boyfriend’s claim that he was “drowning in ennui”. Dramatic, but warranted.

“IT WAS STUPID WHEN WE WERE NINE, AND IT’S MORE RIDICULOUS NOW!” Stan’s attention was drawn to his boyfriend’s shrill screeching. “BEING GINGER IS NOT LIKE BEING A VAMPIRE!”

Cartman was grinning in a very self satisfied way. “You burn in the sun, you’re creepy, you suck souls…”

“YOU’RE SO GODDAMN STUPID!!!”

Kyle, directly ensnared in their friend’s trap, moved to swing at him with a crutch, but overshot and was slipping forward, slamming into the ground with a loud “FUCK!”

Stan, Kenny, and even Cartman froze, eyes wide and speechless because Kyle was already hurt; slipping on the ice like that had no doubt made it worse. Kyle curled into the fetal position, clutching his bad knee and cursing up a storm. Stan ran to him in an instant.

“Dude, shit, okay, okay. Fuck, did you hit it?”

“What the HELL do you think,” Kyle hissed, writhing a little in the snow. He’d only recently been able to bend his knee semi-normally again, only with support, and here he was holding it to his chest in a way that definitely couldn’t be comfortable.

“S-Stan, I… GOD, FUCK YOU CARTMAN!!!”

That back and forth was always a good indicator of Kyle’s level of aggravation. He was extremely quick when he was upset enough. Less aggressive on his own, Stan jumped to his partner’s defense without hesitation.

“Why the shit would you work him up like that, huh?!?” Stan demanded, taking their obnoxious friend by the collar of his coat. He gave him a shake, not enough to actually hurt, but Cartman still whined like a pitiful little creature. “He can’t fight anyone yet! He can’t even stand!”

Kyle dragged himself a little down the ice. “I can buttfucking stand! Dramaticfuckass-“

He crumpled under the weight of his own body. Stan caught his neck before his head could whack the ice. “Dude!”

“I’m going to obliterate you,” Kyle warned.

Stan wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t dare. Instead, he gently scooped Kyle into his arms, relieved when he felt wiry arms latch instinctually around his neck. He turned to the other two as he rose. “Grab his shit.”

Thankfully, Kyle’s house was the closest to the bus stop, and under the rapid pounding of his own heart, Stan could hear Kyle’s pissed off mumbling and sporadic whimpers of pain.

“I’m trying to be careful, dude,” he promised. “I know it’s still hurting.”

“Yeah, because some FAT ASSHOLE made me FALL!” Kyle seethed in Cartman’s direction.

“Ay! You’re the one who was trying to hit me, JewBot!”

Stan spun around to shoot Cartman a glare. “You started it and you know it, fuckknob. Give the backpack to Kenny and fuck off to school if you’re gonna keep causing problems.”

Cartman snorted. “I would, but Kahl’s bitch mom is going to pitch a fit and I happen to find that shit funny, obviously.”

“DON’T CALL MY MOM A BITCH!”

Ohhhh boy. It was definitely too early for all this. Kenny bounded up to the porch, using Kyle’s crutches to knock on the front door. “Guys, tone it down,” he advised before turning the knob. Nobody really locked their doors around here, and they all knew it.

“Yo, Mrs B!” Kenny announced their presence as the boys filed into the foyer.

Only Kyle’s mom would be home around this time, Stan knew. Ike usually rode to his early college high school program with their dad, since it was closer to Gerald’s firm. Sheila tended to fill her days with community meetings and clubs and volunteer work, but she usually stuck around the house until the rest of the family was safely at school and work, ruling the group chat with an iron fist. A veritable lioness when it came to her boys, that one.

Which was why her alarmed gasp upon seeing her eldest son glowering in Stan’s arms wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

“Kyle! Boys! What on earth happened?!”

“He slipped on the ice,” Stan explained, gingerly easing him down onto the couch. “Bashed his knee pretty good.”

Sheila let out a “WHAT?!?”, and Kyle groaned, clearly already done with his mother. “Ma, please don’t freak out. I just need to put it up a few hours or whatever, it’s fine.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stared each of the boys down like only a mother could. Cartman actually cowered a little, avoiding eye contact.

“And just how did you fall, huh, bubbeh?” She demanded of her son. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Stan hated having to do damage control, but Sheila trusted him, so he was probably the best bet at the guys avoiding too much trouble. “He and Cartman were just arguing. You know how carried away they can get.”

“Don’t look at me, Mrs Broflovski,” Cartman said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Kahl tried to whack me! It’s not my fault his little bird bones gave out.”

“SHUT UP CARTMAN!”

“Kyle!” Sheila scolded. “Inside voices! And how many times do I have to tell you boys not to roughhouse when it’s slippery outside?”

All four of them mumbled varying apologies, even though he and Kenny hadn’t been involved. Kyle’s mom kept raving.

“And here I was about to head out the door! Oy, I’ll have to tell the book club ladies I won’t make it to brunch, and goodness! The PTA meeting will need to be rescheduled, and I suppose I’ll have to put out a grocery order for delivery and miss the deals I’d get going myself-“

“Ma,” Kyle interrupted, even more overwhelmed than he had been. “You don’t need to change your plans or anything. I know you have a full day.”

“You can’t just stay home alone! What if you’ve hurt your knee worse?!”

Stan could tell his boyfriend wanted to roll his eyes. “It really isn’t a big deal, okay? And I’m not alone. The guys can help me if I need anything.”

Kenny had already taken to removing Kyle’s hat for him and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Yeah, we got ‘im, scout’s honor.”

“The hippie would probably stay anyway,” Cartman pointed out. He had migrated to the kitchen and was rifling through the freezer, hopefully for an ice pack and not to raid the snacks.

Well, as much as Cartman was a dick, he wasn’t wrong. Stan had no intention of leaving Kyle’s side.

Kyle’s mom pursed her lips and checked her watch. Stan could practically see her internal conflict: would she deviate from her carefully curated schedule to stay home and smother her son, or would she let four teenage boys skip school and hang out in her living room? He turned on his best “charming and trustworthy” face; he usually had good luck with adults.

Sheila sighed, and Stan felt disproportionately victorious. The woman was even more expressive than Kyle was. Clearly, the gang was about to get a day off class with no grown up supervision. Yes!

“Fine,” she relented. “But only because I’m already running late. I’ll see if I can get all four of you an excused absence.”

That definitely wasn’t going to be an issue. Principal Charles would just love the idea of them practicing “wholesome male friendship and emotional support” and all that. If that wasn’t the conclusion the principal came to on his own, Cartman was a master manipulator and could talk himself, and the rest of them by extension, out of trouble.

Sheila grabbed her purse and bent down to kiss her son’s forehead, leaving a lipstick mark. “You’re a little warm, Kyle, do you feel-“

“Ma, I was wearing a hat,” Kyle groaned. “Please give the worrying a rest.”

“Fine, fine,” she clucked, shaking her head. “You boys just behave, do you hear me? And Stanley, you call me if I need to come home.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When the door shut behind her, Kyle groaned yet again, dramatically throwing his arms over his eyes. “I swear to God, she’s gonna be fussing over me like I’m a kid until the end of time.”

“Totally weak,” Cartman agreed.

“She just gets concerned about you,” Kenny reminded him. “I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason.”

Stan almost expected Kyle to fly into a rage at that, but he just sighed. “Can’t wait to be done with the goddamn crutches so she can chill the fuck out.”

Yeah, Sheila Broflovski ever chilling the fuck out was probably about as likely as Randy sobering up. Not gonna happen. And Kyle had gotten more than just the hair, nose, and height from his mother; he’d also gotten her temper, so Stan chose to let him believe she’d let up once he could walk.

“Ha! That’ll be the day,” Cartman laughed as he turned away from the freezer, ice pack in one hand and a popsicle in the other.

Stan caught the pack easily when it was tossed his way, ignoring their resident troublemaker in favor of getting his super best boyfriend’s leg elevated better. “This okay, baby?”

“Yeah, it-“ Kyle cut off with a wince. “Doesn’t hurt as bad as it did at first.”

“Still hurts, though?”

“I mean, it never really stopped hurting,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Not all the way.”

Stan had done his research after his partner first messed up his leg. What the basketball coach guessed was a sprain turned out to be a hyperextended knee and partial meniscus tear, straining the outside ligament and everything. Not an injury that required surgery, since Kyle was young and relatively healthy, but he wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it at all for a full month, was supposed to be taking anti inflammatories and painkillers. Kyle tried to downplay it, sick of being out of commission, but Stan maintained that it caused him more trouble than he admitted.

Kenny hopped up from where he’d been perched on the arm of the couch. “Where’s your drugs? I gotcha.”

“I don’t need-“

“Nightstand,” Stan interrupted. Kyle wasn’t about to weasel his way out of medication. Kenny bounded up the stairs as Kyle angrily unzipped his coat and threw it in the general direction of the jacket hooks.

“Dude, I don’t want the fucking painkillers.”

Cartman snorted from his position on the floor, where he’d claimed control of the remote and was looking for trashy reality tv. “You’ve been on crutches for weeks and you still can’t walk, you dumb bitch. Take the goddamn pills if you hurt. That’s like, common sense.”

“You wouldn’t know common sense if it bit you in the fat ass.”

As much as Stan hated to agree with Cartman, he did have a point. “Kyle, please don’t be difficult about this. We’re just trying to help.”

Kyle scowled and crossed his arms. “You can help by getting off my case. I swear, you guys are as bad as my mother.”

“No can do, firefox,” Kenny re entered the living room, holding the orange vial of painkillers aloft. “Consider us on your case like white on rice. This bottle should not still be this full.”

“Let me see that.” Stan confirmed that it was pretty obvious that Kyle had been slacking on the meds. “Dude, c’mon. Have you not been taking these?”

“I took them “as directed” or whatever the first week,” Kyle protested. “I don’t like how they make me all foggy and tired!”

Stan fought the urge to groan. “Baby, you’re literally in pain. Your leg’s gonna hurt if you don’t treat the symptoms.” He didn’t add that the fact that Kyle had been hurting and doing nothing about it had definitely played in to his irritability. He knelt down and took Kyle’s hand. “Will you just take one? For me? Your pain is my pain.”

Cartman mimed throwing up. “Jesus Christ, you fucking simp! What is this, a shitty fanfiction?!”

“SHUT UP, CARTMAN,” Kyle snapped. Then his eyes met Stan’s, and his anger dissipated some. “Damnit, Staniel. Don’t give me the face! You look like a sad puppy and- ugh, fucking fine, but if anyone draws dicks on my face while I’m taking a damn high ass nap, I’m kicking the ass of everyone in this room.”

A threat not to be taken lightly, even with Kyle’s current physical limitations. Small, injured, about to nod off from the pill he’d swallowed while he was talking, but vicious.

“No dicks, promise,” Kenny said with a hand over his heart.

“Yeah, we all know the only dick you want on your face is Stan’s-“ Cartman was cut off by a throw pillow flung in his direction. “Fine! Geez, I won’t fuck with you.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Stan offered.

Cartman rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through daytime television. “I hate your gay ass, I’m so seriously.”

———

There was only so much Real Housewives the boys could take before it got old. And Stan really didn’t give a shit what the Kardashians were up to. Even Cartman had gotten restless after a few hours, corralling Kenny out the back door to throw chunks of ice against the fence.

Kyle was still sleeping through all of it, though his sleep looked far from peaceful. Kyle didn’t usually sleep well in general, and lying in an uncomfortable position on the couch with his face tight even in sleep, he looked to be struggling. Nightmares, probably, made even weirder than normal by the drugs making him sleep harder than he usually did.

Stan didn’t have the heart to wake him up, instead just in his lookout post on the floor next to the couch. He switched the channel to National Geographic and turned the sound off, letting his head fall back next to his boyfriend’s.

He couldn’t have been asleep long, before being jolted awake by a thump and a muttered “god damnit”.

Adjusting to the dim light of the living room, Stan landed on Kyle, who had apparently walked into the doorframe in his post nap confusion. He was immediately up and darting his way.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be using your crutches! Where’re you going?”

Kyle grumbled and rubbed at his leg. “I’m running the Boston Marathon, what does it look like? I’m on a piss quest, Stanathan.”

Stan swung an arm around him for support, helping him hobble down the hall. “For fucks sake, Ky, you’re gonna hurt yourself walking around like this.”

“Didn’t think about it,” Kyle argued. “I told you the pills make me all groggy.”

They stopped at the bathroom. “Can you make it?”

Kyle hopped through and shut the door. “I’m not helpless.”

Stan leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh at the frustrated look he’d flashed. “You have a good nap, at least?”

“Had a dream I was in a wheat field.”

“A wheat field?”

“Yeah.” He heard the toilet flush and the faucet start up. “We were trying to invade a kingdom of giants with a marching band. And then I was in my car and all the tires exploded. Pedro Pascal was there.”

Steadying his boyfriend on his way back into the hall, Stan chuckled. “The Mandolorian slashed your tires?”

“Apparently.”

Heat was radiating from Kyle like a furnace. Not that he didn’t usually run warm, especially when he slept, but even Sheila had noticed earlier. Stan helped him down onto the couch and rested the back of his hand on Kyle’s face, checking for fever.

“Dude, do you feel okay? You look kinda pale, and you’re hot.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Jesus, not you too. I’m fine. I can’t be sick on top of everything else, you just worry too much.”

That wasn’t how it worked, but okay. Kenny and Cartman came barging in the kitchen door, shaking ice from their shoes in a haphazard way that a certain matriarch wouldn’t appreciate.

“I need some fucking hot chocolate!” Cartman declared, Kenny letting out a muffled agreement through his scarf before unwinding it.

“Guys,” Stan started, “have you been sick at all the past week? Like, fever, dizziness, anything?”

Kenny shrugged. “I had the sniffles a couple days ago, that’s it.”

“I don’t get sick,” Cartman insisted. “My immune system is superior. Oh, lame, you guys! Is Kahl infected with some disease now too? I mean, more than just his default.”

Kyle moaned dramatically. “Please cut it out. I’m tired, assholes.”

Stan ignored him, at least until he had a chance to check for certain. “Ken, will you get the thermometer? Under the kitchen sink. I think I might’ve given you guys that cold I had over the weekend.”

“You got over that in like, two days,” Kyle pointed out.

“That was me. This is you. And if you’ll recall, I almost cracked my head open in your bedroom,” Stan reminded him.

“Because you’re a dick who tried to ignore it.”

“And what are you doing right now?”

Kyle opened his mouth to make some remark, and Kenny took the opportunity to shove the thermometer under his tongue. Kyle glared but didn’t yank it out, probably hoping to prove them all wrong.

“Ha!” Cartman was at least a little amused reading the screen. “Of course you’re sick. What, can’t handle a little seasonal bug like the rest of us?”

Moving to lunge off the couch, Kyle swung, not missing this time, but falling to the floor nonetheless. Cartman wailed like he’d just been stabbed.

“Did- did you guys see that?! Kahl totally got me in the eye! Oh, god, I’m blind! I’m suing your crippled ass!”

“Knock it off, Fatboy, you’re fine,” Kenny said tiredly. “Kyley, I think we should get you up to bed and call your mom.”

Stan was inclined to agree, not just because Kyle was definitely running a temperature now, but also because he’d just fallen for the second time in the span of a few hours, and there was no way even Kyle could deny how much that had to hurt. He scooted the coffee table out of the way to help him up.

“Okay, use the good side, I’ve got you.”

Kyle had gotten pretty graceful at using the pistol squat method to get up without putting weight on his bad knee over the past few weeks. He’d always been deceptively strong, even like now when he was sick and drawn, and Stan was just kind of there just in case he faltered.

“Don’t call my mom,” he pleaded. “It’s just a little fever. I can probably sleep it off.”

Well, considering his ridiculous stubbornness, Kyle could probably argue that illness going around right out of his body. “You can try, dude, but Sheila’s gonna be pissed I didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kyle mumbled, accepting his crutches and letting Kenny and Stan accompany him to the stairs. “Will you guys stay?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Even Cartman?”

“Pshh, like I wanna stick around for the jew to get pissed off and try to kill me again.”

The guys knew Cartman well enough to know that was just his way of saying he didn’t want to be the reason Kyle got carried away and hurt himself, but they didn’t point that out.

“Then fuck off, fatass. Go manipulate the FBI or whatever you get up to,” Kyle said with another eyeroll.

Cartman snorted. “Eh, it’s still pretty early. Maybe I’ll start a cult or something.” He grinned mischievously. “See you assholes.”

Kenny flipped on the hall light. “I wonder what it is that he actually does in his spare time.”

“Something stupid or illegal.” Kyle groaned as he was helped into bed. “Or both.”

That sounded about right. Stan settled under the blankets next to him, Kenny having procured the cold meds still in the drawer from Stan having been sick. Stan read the pack carefully before handing Kyle a few capsules. “Here, dude. It’s the daytime shit. No acetaminophen or any of the crap that’ll fuck with your other drugs.”

“Thanks.”

Kyles massive “Ass Pro Shops” tumbler, a Kenny McCormick creation that was forever stationed on Kyle’s nightstand with its blue silicone straw, washed down the medicine before Kyle lied back with a sigh. He was clearly still in pain, and now feverish to top it off. “Have I mentioned yet that I’m really fucking annoyed?”

Kenny snorted, casually shooting the mini basketball into the hoop mounted on the closet door. “Darlin’, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

Stan wrapped him up in his arms, carefully, like his boyfriend might attack like a wounded animal. And here we see an injured fox, in his burrow, directly after fighting off the raccoon. He has allowed the continued company of the bear and the opossum, who continue to aid in his recovery. The rabbit often accompanies this ragtag group, though she would likely be unwilling to leave school, fearing both the agitated fox’s anger and a potential to be grounded.

Laughing at his mental nature documentary comparison was probably not in his best interest, lest Kyle assume he was being made fun of, so Stan just kissed his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. “You gonna be able to fall asleep again?”

Kyle snuggled closer. “Mm, if you keep holding me like this.”

Stan knew both he and Kenny would have to leave his side eventually. Kenny had basketball practice and Stan had off season football conditioning. He could get out of classes today, sure, but coach wasn’t about to ease up on him, not with Stan set to play first string in the fall. If South Park had one thing (other than cattle) to be proud of, it was high school sports.

Still, he’d savor this moment, getting to take care of him with Kenny for backup, and he’d probably cave and stay if Kyle asked.

———

The alarm clock on the nightstand flashed that it was almost three when Sheila poked her head in to whisper (or her version of it, at least), “boys!”

Uncharacteristically, Stan was the first to wake, followed by Kenny, who had curled up at the foot of the bed like a pet, while Kyle only moaned and rolled over.

“Yes ma’am?” Stan mumbled, rubbing his eyes and disoriented from their nap.

The matriarch planted her hands on her hips, one auburn brow arched in concern. “Is everything alright? Eric already left?”

“Mhm. A while ago. He went because he was making Ky mad again and they were trying to fight and we all didn’t want him to hurt himself more. It was Cartman’s decision.” Stan didn’t know why he was defending the dickhole who liked to mess with his favorite person. Maybe because Cartman had recently shown a few redeeming qualities, plus Stan felt bad in general about giving the guys his cold. “Kyle, he didn’t want us to call you, but he’s running a bit of a fever. Or, he was a few hours ago. We got some medicine in him, so hopefully it’s down.”

“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”

Kyle sat up quickly, squeaking a little in his confusion. “Ma, what’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

She rushed over, immediately all over her son. “Oh, I knew it! I knew you were warm this morning! Call it a motha’s intuition, but I knew you’d caught what’s going around that school of yours!”

“He’s okay, Mrs. B,” Kenny cut in. “Stanny and I both got over it quick, and Cartman definitely had it but didn’t even complain, and you know how he is.”

Sheila sighed, hands still on the face of an absolutely peeved Kyle. “Oh, I suppose. I just, I worry! About all of you! And my poor baby is already hurt, I can’t imagine how miserable it must be-“

“Ma, please. I’m okay. Just let me go back to sleep.”

Turning to the other two, who had gotten up and were standing attentively like seven year olds in trouble, she offered a motherly smile. “Why don’t the two of you go down and make yourselves a snack?” She suggested. “You have to leave for your sports soon, right? Can’t go on an empty stomach!”

Kenny opened his mouth to protest, but Stan knew how Sheila’s mind operated. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, especially while she had already blustered into full caretaking mode at the mention of her child under the weather. She’d do that for all five of them, yeah, but as much as Kyle would kick his ass if he said it, Kyle had always been more prone to physical problems than the rest.

“Will do. Ken, sandwiches real quick and we head to the school?”

“Works for me, brother. Thank you, Mrs B.”

Sheila smiled tensely, trying to force feed Kyle the lukewarm water at his bedside. Stan reached around her to squeeze his hand. “Okay, dude?”

“I’m okay. Little plague and a fucked up leg can’t take me out.”

“Kyle, language!”

Stan had to laugh. “We left the thermometer downstairs,” he offered. “If you want to check again. We’ll be outa here in a sec.” He kissed the back of Kyle’s hand, noticing how glassy his eyes were, all the brighter in their fever flush. “Can I come check on you after?” He was asking both Kyle and his mother.

They answered in unison, which made Kenny laugh. “Aight, loverboy, let’s feed us so we don’t die during suicides.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them when they made it down the stairs into the kitchen. “Dude, I really hate the idea of leaving him alone.”

Kenny retrieved sandwich supplies eagerly from the fridge and cabinets. They all knew where everything was kept in each other’s houses.

“He’s not alone. Got his mama, and you know she’s leaping at the chance. Where do ya think Ky gets it?”

True. Both Kyle and Sheila shared that overbearing motherly quality. They thrived on caring for people.

Problem was, Kyle was a godawful patient, and Stan liked to coddle him in spite of the protests.

“Make me a pb&j, will you?” He asked Kenny. “I’m gonna heat up some soup for Ky. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, if he did have that.”

“He’s gonna get annoyed,” Kenny pointed out.

That was true, but still. “Dude, my boyfriend is hurt, sick, stubborn as fuck, and diabetic. I’m not letting his levels get messed up.”

Kenny laughed. “Just marry him already. You’d make a great overprotective husband.”

“Sick, man, we’re kids!”

“That has nothing to do with what I just said. I’m talkin’ future shit.”

Stan dumped a can of chicken noodle into the pot he’s grabbed. “You deadass said “already”. We’re sixteen and fifteen.”

“You’re still gonna be a good husband one day.” Kenny was building sandwiches, didn’t look up. “We call him a mom, but you’re absolutely the type of dad to be waiting on the porch with a shotgun if your daughter brings home a date. Not that your pacifistic ass would use it.”

That was true, guns were not his favorite. “Ken, knock it off.” He checked on the time. “Hey, drink some water. We should head out as soon as we eat.”

Canned soup was easy and quick enough to heat up, and Stan had it poured into a bowl with a few crackers on the side by the time Kenny had gotten sandwiches and drinks set up on the bar. “Gonna take this up to Ky, be right back.”

“Leaning into that knight in shining armor complex pretty hard today, huh?”

Stan flipped him off over his shoulder.

In Kyle’s room, Shiela was humming at a low volume, fussing with the covers and the washcloth she’d laid on his forehead. Kyle saw him first.

“Dudeeee,” he complained. “Tell Ma I’m okay and she doesn’t need to smother me.”

Laughing and setting the soup on the table, Stan leaned over to run his fingers through Kyle’s hair. “Sorry, but I’m on her side, dude.” He gave Sheila a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I just, he was already getting pretty good rest and I didn’t want to rile him up-“

“Oh, believe me,” she said pointedly. “I know he’d have only worked himself up.”

“I’m right here!”

“See what I mean?” Sheila put on her all business face. “Bubbeh, Stanley and Kenny have to leave soon for practice.”

Kyle looked positively betrayed. “Dude, you’re actually leaving me?”

“You need more rest, baby. I can maybe come back and visit after conditioning?” Yeah, right. More than likely, his mom would veto any more company until Kyle was over the fever. “You need to eat and keep taking it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle grumbled sarcastically.

Stan suppressed another laugh and kissed the back of his hand again before turning to Sheila. “We’ll be out the door in a few minutes. I’ll ask before coming after.”

She nodded. “I think that would be best. Thank you for helping out today, Stan.”

“Definitely, dude.” Then he froze. He called his own mother dude, but he had never called Kyle’s mom that. Thankfully, she smiled fondly.

“You boys just put your dishes in the sink when you’re done. Have a good practice.”

Stan grinned and kissed Kyle again before heading back down. Kenny was halfway through his sandwich when he plopped down and snorted.

“Man, I totally just called Ky’s mother “dude”,” he commented.

Kenny giggled. “Only you, brother. Gotta tell ya, I think this basketball team thing? This is probably a one time deal.”

“You’re not planning to play next year?”

“It’s just, well, it was only fun with Kyle, and he’s out for a hot minute. Plus I could be spending my free time workin’. Lot to think about, ya know? And it’s not like you and football. I just wanted to try it out.”

Stan understood. He’d cycled through plenty of hobbies himself. “Why not just go ahead and quit?”

Kenny shook his head. “Season’s almost over, anyway. Gotta finish it out. So, for now…” he saluted with his sandwich. “Fuck it. We ball.”

[gloomingstar]

[spgothkidsheadcanons]

Can I have headcanons for the goths when their s/o affectionately slaps their butt to get a reaction out of them?

Hi hi hi yes yes of course you can here you go enjoy your dinner

WARNINGS: very very slight NSFW if you squint your eyes and turn your head a little to the left

~~~~~~

Henrietta:

- The best way to catch Henrietta off guard is to smack her butt when she’s walking by

- It’s a very dangerous game to play, but you, her S/O, like to play with fire

- It’s not an often occurence because the first time you did it, you had to stand there, looking at the floor and twiddling your thumbs as she got onto you

- But the second time you did it, she tried (and failed) to stop a smile from stretching over her face

- And today was the perfect opportunity for the third time

- You were both off, and Henrietta was in the kitchen, trying to make some kind of lunch because you had woken up late and were starving

- Walking into the kitchen to get some water, you saw Henrietta with both hands in the sink, washing some dishes

- And looking a little bit more south, you just couldn’t help the idea that crossed your head

- Walking to the fridge innocently, you grabbed a bottle of water

- Making it a point to step quietly, you pretended to leave the kitchen, but instead angled yourself right behind her, arm cocked back and ready

- *SMACK*

- The woman at the sink stiffened, the dish slipping from her hand as she jolted forward a bit

- You began to cackle maniacally, spewing apologies between fits of laughter

- You were quick to shut up when she slowly turned her head, her eyes catching yours, her lips curled into a frown

- You watched as she removed her hands from the sink, drying them on a dish towel before she grabbed your shirt and dragged you to the bedroom

- Her revenge left your own butt sore, but you didn’t regret it at all

Pete:

- He’s not much into displays of affection, it’s how he’s always been

- He’s sweet, caring, and sometimes, a little too naive for his own good

- It’s very easy for you to tell him to do something just so he’ll bend over and give you easy access to smack his butt

- It’s funny to you to watch him shoot up, both hands moving to cover his behind and his cheeks fired up

- He’s not really into doing it back as revenge, but if you catch him drunk, high or horny, then it’s like opening the gates of Hell

- It just so happened to be the morning after you guys decided to get drunk

- You were hungover and possibly still a little tipsy, but Pete was chugging a cup of coffee he had brewed while you were waking up

- He had already began working on some painting, paint already swiped over his arms, face and pants

- You grumbled at the idea of having to try and get the paint out of his clothes

- Getting out of bed, you waited until Pete moved the brush away from the canvas before hugging his back, pressing your face against his “Smock” (which was just an old t-shirt that he wore to paint in)

- He mumbled a good morning, placing his free hand over your arms and giving a gentle squeeze, before continuing his work

- You stood like this for a moment, feeling his muscles against your cheek as he moved his paintbrush all over the canvas

- Gently, you pulled away, but stayed standing behind him

- When he set his brush down and bent over to grab more paint, you couldn’t help but lay a decent slap against his bottom, eliciting a sharp gasp from the man

- He turned, his eyes wide and cheeks flushing redder than a tomato

- You laughed, apologizing and wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling at his feigned annoyance

- Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you left the room, headed to the kitchen to make him another cup of coffee as an apology

Michael:

- It’s a full on brawl when it comes to Michael

- To be honest, he started the whole “Butt Smacking War” when you two had first got together

- It used to be simple pats on the bottom as he walked behind you, or you behind him

- But when the slaps got harder with each revenge smack, it turned into hell for you

- You may slap hard, but he slaps HARDER

- You had kind of eased up on smacking his butt, but couldn’t fight the urge much more

- Not when he was leaning over the kitchen counter, scrolling through some recipes on his phone as he tried to decide what to do for dinner

- Of course, knowing Michael’s game, you opted out of the smack you wanted to give him for a simple pat, more so to announce your presence than to bother him

- You gave him a smile when he looked to you, his face uninterested in the game

- Turning to the cabinet, you began to reach for a glass to grab some water

- And turning your back to the tall goth was a mistake you made that day

- The sting got you before you even realized your butt had been smacked, and you jerked forward, the force taking you out of balance

- “Oouu, that one was a little too hard”

- That mother fucker just snickered after he made the comment, turning back to his phone

- “I didn’t even hit you that hard” you whined, fake shock on your face

- Cue more laughter and kisses all over your face to make up for it

[cocoaconicoco]

King elf Kyle and prince Ike

Kyle really hates his little brother's habit of climbing trees because it's something Marshwalker used to do when they were kids.

[shhh-secret-time]

Kyle Broflovski

26 y.o (He/Him)

Soul Synergy: Written on your palm is what your soulmate is thinking

Headcanons:

☆ Going to college on a full scholarship and with his help from his parents

☆ Still works part time at Tweek Bros Coffee, he wants to earn his own way in life

》 This feeds his caffeine addiction

☆ He still plays basketball, it helps him blow off steam

☆ Has a habit of piling to much on his plate

》 Stan usually has to remind him to take time for himself, forcing him to relax

☆ Probably tried to major in law like his dad but at some point he decided he really hated it

☆ Switches to something like English and General Classes for now.

》 I can see him becoming an Author! (I'm projecting)

☆ He tries to visit home often, holidays, birthdays, and on breaks!

☆ Does everything in his power to NOT talk about school. It's the last thing he wants to think about and he doesn't want to make his mother stress

☆ He and Stan live closer to campus, they went halfsies on an apartment together

》 Kyle cooks -> Stan does the dishes

》 Kyle handles paying rent -> Stan handles the handiwork around the house

☆ Will participate in Stan's board game nights if he has the time

☆ Although he loves D&D night and will not miss a session if he can help it. (I'm projecting)

》 I like to think he eventually becomes a DM the more he takes writing classes. I see those two going hand and hand

☆ He started carrying the lighter when Stan picked up smoking and it's just always been in his pocket

☆ Comes in handy when he smokes weed

》 I don't see him as the kind of guy who buys it or owns a bong/bowl/whatever, but I think he'll smoke if offered. Anything to just relax.

☆ Because of that he always carries an inhaler for Stan. He knows his friend hasn't had an asthma attack since they were kids, but just in case

☆ Also brings little bottles of water, enough for the other three. (Even Cartman if he can convince the guy to even look at water.)

☆ I didn't draw it but he's definitely got an EpiPen for sure.

》 He's the mom friend, I don't know what you expected

☆ Carries his glasses in the case, but he can't keep his glasses clean at all

》 Somehow his phone is immaculate, baffling really

☆ Looks at his palm often, so he started wearing gloves again

》 He gets distracted to easily with it

☆ The font on his palm is golden, looks like ink melting when it changes

☆ The closer his soulmate is to him, the quicker the words change.

》 If he thinks about it too much, he panics because what if he starts thinking something stupid and his soulmate laughs?

》 After a while he stops caring and just accepts that it is what it is.

☆ He's very protective of his hands because of it, often keeping his hands in his pockets if he's not wearing his gloves

》 More like he's protective over his soulmates thoughts.

His hand finds the silver necklace around his neck, the pointed star of David digs into his palm. The blunt ends of each point reminds him to breath. He turns it over a few times, doing the same with the lighter in his pocket.

He catches it out of the corner of his eye, the font on his palm gleams and twists. Running down his pale skin like watercolor does a canvas.

'Kyle! I love you!'

Kyle let's out a little breath, it dissolves into a chuckle. That breath takes the tight feeling in his chest with it. The beautiful font leaves room for a smile.

"I love you too." He whispers to the palm, placing a kiss over the words.

(Here's the blank version! ♡ )

[naskaolgia]

Comic 6: Tea [OMG DEEPEST REGARDS UPDATEEE? I AM ON FIRE LATLEY, ENJOY]

[I DONT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, CHARACTERS FROM TV SERIES SOUTH PARK] I hope you all are enjoying this comic so far, I cant belive im on chapter 6 already- buckle up guys, we got a big one coming up next!! >:3c

[l0ve-dov3]

Elf-Knight Kyle HC!

note: this is kind of a preview of how kyle will be written in my SoT inspired kyle/reader fic, so if you like these headcannons, look out for that! to be clear, however, this is not focused on kyle and his relationship to the reader; only on him and his antics.

warnings: vulgar language, mentions of blood, reader insert mentioned, in green there will be light facts about how these connect to my au!!

• kyle is surprisingly good at close combat

for someone who spend most of their life learning elven magic, he picked up swordsmanship and knifepoint skills with ease.

• kyle takes some effort to make truly angry

• like he was easy to anger before, but now he’s calm to the point that it’s scary

• kyle is the diplomat of his kingdom alllll the way

• when he’s not training (or training other knights), he can be found reading, studying, and connecting to the land to see its history

ideally, in this fanfic, we have 5 minor kingdoms and a realm they all are a part of. as a holy-knight of larnion, kyle is well versed in the history of his kingdom; and moreover, his realm.

• when kyle uses his magic for too long his hair loses its color and his freckles fade

• he’s one of those bitches who brags about knowing different languages

• like he’ll use slang from other realms and kingdoms in casual conversation and think it’s the coolest thing EVER

• in battle, rather than zeroing in on a target, kyle is uniquely aware of all his adversaries

he learned quickly how to use his magic and his physical abilities, so he will often use his sword on one opponent and magic on another; simultaneously.

• he is very possessive with his partners and friends

• he’s willing to get hurt, risk danger, whatever; just as long as his friends aren’t hurt

• “you dare raise your sword to her!”

• “you lay so much as a finger on them and i will have you, your family, and your next of kin’s heads.”

• he is not chill in the face of battle.

• he doesn’t exactly panic, but he defaults to the offense; always one to strike first and make the last move.

• if you swing, he’ll swing harder. if you make a cut, he’ll take your sword. kyle is just a force to be reckoned with in general

• but when you’ve entered his inner circle, he is very sweet, and even more than that, touchy

• it’s not always super obvious, but it’s little gestures

• moving pieces of hair, wiping blood after battle, bandaging injuries, and if you’re lucky you may hold his hand!

if you were hypothetically in a relationship with sir kyle, this would apply too ;)

• finally, kyle is not all that much of a leader

• intelligent? absolutely. strong? of course. talented? indubitably! but he would much rather assist than take the reigns

• he will lead if he must, but he usually asks to simply assist; give advice, share his wisdom and offer guidance.

no elf-king kyle and ranger stan here! in this fic, the two work alongside each other as friends and comrades in the purest of forms. stan takes the reigns, and kyle is somewhat of an advisor.