#sp x reader

Pairing: Kyle Broflovski x Fem!Reader

Words: around 2.9k

Tags: sp high school au, friends to lovers, soulmate identifying marks, first words soulmate au, fluff, angst, crude language, smoking/underage drinking, drug use, south park shenanigans

✎Chapter 1: First Words✍︎

Pairing: Stan Marsh x Reader

Words: around 1.2k

Tags: sp high school au, slow burn, friends to lovers, smoking/underage drinking, drug use, take dating troupe, sarcastic chaotic reader, reader has body piercings, sexual tension, crude language, teen angst, fluff, eventual smut (they're 18!!!)

A/N: all my chapters are so short asdfsfghj I’m sorry 🥹

⋆｡°✩ 🏈 Chapter 4: Commit To The Bit 🍃 ✩°｡⋆

************************** Link to Masterlist/ Story Index => HERE - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 <- You Are Here **************************

In the little house next to the Stotch’s residence, (Y/N) was just about to call it a night. Most lights had been turned off and she had just changed into something more comfortable before heading to bed. She hadn’t expected Clyde Donovan of all people to message her that morning, inviting her along with some of his friends to hangout at the mall. It was fun and refreshing to see friendly faces, to catch up with the boys she barely remembered addressing in the years before she’d left. She had a feeling that Clyde, as easygoing as he was, probably had ulterior motives when he invited her along, remembering he had broken a few girls’ hearts when high school started. While she had agreed to join them, she knew Clyde wasn’t exactly her type. At least, she hadn’t been alone with him.

A sudden noise snapped her out of her thoughts. Someone was knocking at her door. Uneven knocks- slow, then too fast, then stopping as if whoever was outside forgot what they were doing. At this hour, in South Park, it could’ve been anything.

Cautious, she headed to the front door, pressing her eye against the peephole. Her stomach dropped when she saw who it was.

Stan Marsh. He was barely standing straight, his face looked flushed and strands of hair sticking out of his hat made it seem like he’d walked through the wind and late night cold without a care in the world. His jacket was only half zipped up, barely hanging on his shoulders. But the look on his face was what startled her most. He looked dejected, like he’d already lost something.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. 

“Stan?”

His eyes lifted sluggishly to hers. “H-hey…” “Are you… drunk?” She questioned, confusion creasing her face.

He straightened up clumsily, his lips tugging into something between a smirk and a wince. “No... I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath, immediately slipping an arm under his to steady him. She could feel how chilled his skin was under the fabric.

“C’mon,” she said softly, guiding him inside before he toppled over. “You’re freezing. Sit down before you faceplant, alright?”

Stan stumbled over the threshold, muttering something incoherent about not needing help, but he let her lead him to the couch anyway. He dropped onto it heavily, burying his face in his hands with a groan.

This wasn’t how she’d pictured ending her night. She hadn’t planned on babysitting a drunk friend, but the look on Stan’s face looked just…miserable.

Sat down, Stan’s hands were covering his face like he was trying to block the whole world out. Without saying anything, she walked up to a cabinet, grabbed a blanket and draped it gently over him in order to warm him up. Then, she went to the kitchen, filled a tall glass with cold water and set it to the coffee table next to him, before slowly sitting down next to him as their shoulders brushed. 

Her eyes flicked over his slouched form. She couldn’t help wondering…Why did he choose to come here? Why not go to Kyle, who has been his best friend since forever? Or Kenny, who always seemed to know how to listen to people in their worst moments. The thoughts lingered in her mind. Sure, they’d been getting along lately- perhaps she’d even go as far as calling him a good friend. But it was almost a shock knowing he trusted her enough to just crash here without so much as a text or a call. 

“Stan,” she called him out softly, breaking the silence. “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it? … Is there something I can do to help?”

For a long minute, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he dragged his hands down his face, his eyes drifting to the floor. 

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Things aren’t… they’re not alright. They haven’t been for a long time.” He gave a short, bitter laugh that sounded more like a choke. “Everything’s just… shit. It’s all been shit for years. Why does everyone just go along with it when life is total crap?”

He looked up at her with hazy eyes, his face still flushed. Something in his expression screamed of frustration and sadness. Maybe even disappointment in himself.

“It’s - it’s cool we talked things out. I like talking with you. You’re like, probably one of the only few people in this town who gives a crap about me, except for Kyle. And now, you probably hate me for showing up in the middle of the night like a total loser.”

(Y/N) blinked, taken aback by his sudden confidence. The liquor most likely made him lower his guard, letting words spill out he’d probably never say otherwise. She wasn’t sure what surprised her most - the fact that he thought so little of himself, or that he believed she was angry at him for coming to her. 

Her voice was gentle when she spoke up. “Stan, I’m not… mad at you, okay? Yeah it’s late, and yeah, you’re drunk. But I’d much rather you come crashing here than- I don’t know, wander around town and get in trouble, or pass out who knows where in the cold. If anything, I’m glad you chose to come here.”

He stared at her for a long time, as if trying to process her words through the haze.

“...Why?… Why are you so nice to me?”

She looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie as she tried to find the right words. It wasn’t easy to pin down, but when she glanced back up, she spoke with quiet certainty.

“Because…because I care about you, Stan.”

He stared at her, like he didn’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth but she went on.

“I don’t know what’s been going on in your life. I don’t know why you’ve started thinking everything’s so dark and shitty that drinking’s the only way to cope. But…” She hesitated, then reached out, tugging the blanket up higher on his shoulders. “I’ll be there for you. Whatever’s going on, you’re not alone.”

Stan stayed quiet for a long minute, processing the weight of her words. There was no anger, no judgment. Just concern. It caught him off guard. Part of him had expected her to tell him to leave and go home, to quit being so pathetic. Instead, she had met him with both patience and understanding. 

“Thanks…” he finally muttered, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket wrapped around him. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, like he couldn’t quite bear looking her in the eyes after feeling so shameful.

She shook her head, leaning back a little against the cushions. “It’s no big deal, Stan. Shit happens, alright? Seriously, you don’t need to apologize for having a bad night.”

After a moment, she pushed herself up.

“You can just crash here tonight. Couch is all yours. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?”

As she was just about to turn back, she felt a sudden grip on her hand.

“…Don’t- “ He had a dozen endings to that line: don’t leave, don’t make me fix this alone, don’t expect me to be okay. He settled on the first one. 

“…Don’t leave.”

She barely had time to react to this simple touch, when he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her tightly like she could just disappear any moment.

(Y/N) froze for half a second, before her arms slowly settled around Stan’s shoulders. Her instincts were telling her he was probably just drunk, but deep within the layer of liquid confidence, it truly felt like… he was yearning for someone to be there for him. 

When he finally let go, she sat back down with him, maintaining their sudden closeness. She turned on the tv for some background noise, giving Stan some time to sober up, to keep an eye on him and make sure he was okay. 

When he finally started dozing off, she gently pulled the blanket over him, making her way upstairs as she gave him one last look. 

*****

About two hours later Stan cracked an eye open. His head felt heavy, but it was no longer spinning. At first, he didn’t quite recognize where he was. The house was quiet save for the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen - and there was a blanket draped on him that didn’t quite smell like his family’s brand of detergent.

Then it hit him all at once. The bottle. The late night walk in the cold. Showing up to her house unannounced and despite that, still being greeted by her kindness. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his hands down his face. The feeling of shame crept in at first- He knew too well he’d let himself slip, again. He dragged her into his mess and she definitely didn’t deserve that. 

Yet, she welcomed him into her home, let him crash on her couch, gave him a blanket- and even stayed when he’d shamefully asked her to. That meant more to him than she could ever imagine.

Stan stared at the ceiling for a moment, the silence nagging at him. At this time, (Y/N) was probably asleep. He thought about staying put, letting her rest, not pressing his luck. The other part, the braver, reckless part of him, felt a need to see her. 

He pushed himself off the couch with a groan and tentatively walked toward the stairs. Just as he winced hearing the croak of the boards beneath him, he heard footsteps in the hallway above. 

She appeared from around the corner and he stopped in his tracks. Her hair was a little messy and she was still wearing that oversized t-shirt and pj pants she’d greeted him with earlier that night.

“Stan? You’re up? Everything okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling twelve years old again like he’d been caught doing something stupid. “…Uh yeah. I’m fine. Just uh.. just woke up. I just.. wanted to say thank you again, I guess.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, studying him from where she stood atop of the stairway. “Don’t worry about it, alright ? I’m just glad you’re okay.” She smiled.

But even with the reassurance that everything was fine, she could see Stan’s visible hesitation. He parted his lips, wanted to ask if maybe he could stay near her, not be alone with his thoughts, but the words jammed up in his throat. He looked down at the floor instead, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I uh.. Can I..” he tried to get out, but she beat him to it. 

“-Do you want to maybe… sleep upstairs ?” 

The offer landed like a lifeline. He’d been seconds away from stumbling over some half-formed, embarrassing question -and right now, she’d taken the words right out of his mouth. Relief washed through him, like she’d read his mind, like she’d spared him from making a fool of himself.

“Y-yeah if-if that’s okay. I don’t wanna… I mean, you know, I don’t wanna cross any lines.”

She smiled, leading the way as he walked up the stairs and followed her in her room. It felt different now that he wasn’t just crashing- he was being invited in.

She pulled the comforter back and slid into her side with ease, leaving enough space for him. He stood at the edge of her bed, every nerve in his body screaming that this was a bad idea, that he was probably gonna mess things up, that she was probably just too polite to say no. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other as she nestled herself under the blankets, getting comfortable. His heart was hammering in his chest- loud uneven, almost embarrassingly so, as if the silence of her room made it all the more obvious.

‘’Uh… guess I’ll, uh… just, yeah.” He muttered, fumbling with his jacket before draping it over her desk chair. When he finally lowered himself onto the mattress, he froze, like the whole world would stop if he got too close.

Finally, with a shaky exhale, he pulled the blanket back and climbed in, stiff as a board. He lay flat on his back, arms glued at his sides like he was in a damn coffin, his eyes darting up at the ceiling.

“Good night, Stan” she whispered after a moment, rolling gently onto her side with her back to him. The words should’ve been a cue, a clean end to the night. But Stan briefly glanced at her silhouette, like he wished deep down it didn’t have to end there. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, his arm hesitantly twitched forward, brushing against her waist and sliding around her cautiously as if waiting for her to push him away. 

Instead, she shifted. Not away, but closer, scooting back until her spine pressed against his chest, fitting into him like it had been the most natural thing in the world. 

She hadn’t just allowed him to do so- she wanted it too.

He let himself lean in, his face burying into the crook of her neck. 

“Hey… everything you’ve done for me, every time you were here for me, helping me out even if I was a jackass… It really means a lot to me.” He whispered against her ear, holding her tighter than he intended to.

He pressed a careful kiss against her skin, barely a brush of his lips, like he was testing the waters. When she answered with the softest hum, a sound of approval he hadn’t even known he’d been desperate to hear, he kissed her again, more certain this time. Her little exhale, a low sound that wasn’t quite a word this time, sent a rush through him that felt both terrifying and addictive.

Her hand reached down, intertwining her fingers with his and that little gesture sent him reeling. 

“Stan…” she whispered, almost like a warning, almost like a question.

“….Yeah?”

“…. I’m glad you’re here okay? I don’t want you to stop.” 

Her words were barely audible, but it hit him harder than he expected. It ignited a spark, a need he didn’t know he had until she was right there, pulled against him, knowing she was probably as excited as he was about this.

His fingers brushed her hair back, exposing the delicate line of her neck. He hesitated for a second, then pressed his lips to her skin again. Slow at first. Careful. Each kiss was deliberate, lingering, as though he wanted her to feel every second of it.

“...You like that?” he whispered against her neck, his voice low, husky with uncertainty.

The way her head tilted with a quiet nod gave him the encouragement he needed.

With newfound confidence, his hand slid under her shirt, his fingers brushing across her midsection- mapping her out as if every inch of skin told a story he didn’t want to miss. He inched higher, stopping right below her ribs, almost wondering if this was going too far.

Her answer came when she laced her fingers over his and guided his hand higher, exactly on her breast- where he’d wanted to go but hadn’t dared on his own.

Okay, he definitely wasn’t going too far. She wanted this just as much as he did. 

She squirmed under his touch, arching ever so slightly against him- And Stan let out a low chuckle he hadn’t expected.

“I.. I really like this too, you know…” He boldly whispered next to her ear.  

It didn’t take (Y/N) too long to turn around and face him, when she was met with nothing but a smile of adoration from him, which she returned. She cupped his face  and then closed the gap between them. He kissed her back immediately, his hand tangled in her hair, as if afraid to let her slip away.

In the heat of the moment, as the kiss grew hungrier, he gently urged her on her back, until she was beneath him. For a moment, he just looked at her. Messy hair, bare face, the faint flush on her cheeks from his touch. All he could think was how fucking beautiful she was. How lucky he was to be here, to be the one guy she wanted in her bed tonight.

“I think.. I think I love you.” He finally admitted, hovering over her as their lips brushed again.

“… You think ?” she teased with a playful smirk, pushing some strands of hair away from his face. “You want to show me just how much you love me?”

The invitation snapped something in him, like a spark catching flame. Stan crashed his mouth onto hers with a hunger that felt like it had been building for years, his hands moving with a boldness he hadn’t thought himself capable of. He slid his palms up her sides, under her shirt, taking his time to trace her curves as their kiss deepened. Then, in one swift motion, he tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, his own following just as quickly like he was in a rush of some sort.

Their bare skin pressed together, heat colliding with heat. Each touch, each brush of his fingertips along her ribs, across her back, or down between her legs, drew heavier breaths from both of them. He kissed her like he was afraid of ever having to stop, pulling away only to breathe, only to dive back in.

Then his lips left hers, trailing a deliberate, lingering path along her jaw, her neck, down to her collarbone. Each kiss slower, heavier, his mouth savoring the taste of her skin. When he reached her chest, he glanced up briefly, silently asking, before continuing his way down with a reverence that made her shiver. She whimpered when he adventured himself even lower and his tongue brushed against sensitive nerves, as if teasing. The sound of her, the faintest moan, the quiet plea hidden in it, made his head spin. He’d never imagined he could crave something so much. Every twitch of hers drove him wild, until he couldn’t help but chuckle softly against her. It encouraged him to be more confident in his action, tasting her like he’d been aching for the chance to do so since forever. He wanted more of it, wanted to keep pulling those sounds out of her until she couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Stan finally pulled back, his lips glistening, as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. For a moment, he just looked at her, at the way her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, at the flush spreading across her skin, at the dazed way her eyes locked on him, like she couldn’t believe this was real. He felt the same, but there was something else now burning in his chest. A fire, raw and unshakable. He wanted more. He wanted all of her.

Her fingers then brushed against the hem of his boxers, a silent plea that didn’t need words. Stan let out a low, almost amused chuckle, shaking his head faintly at how she looked right now- needy, desperate, yet still so beautiful. 

“Don’t want me to stop, huh?” he whispered against her lips, his voice hoarse and teasing.

She shook her head at that and his own hand reached down, tugging his underwear off in one impatient movement as he kicked them aside, the last barrier now gone between them. The second his bare skin pressed against hers, she gasped softly into his mouth and he swallowed the sound with another kiss.

His hand trailed lower, slipping between her thighs. His fingers found her easily, the heat radiating off her making his head spin. He teased at first, with gentle, slow strokes that had her whimpering against his lips. Every sound she made only drove him harder, every little squirm, making his confidence grow.

But then her hand slid lower too, brushing against him in return. His breath hitched instantly, breaking the kiss, his forehead falling against hers as he let out a shaky groan. 

“Fuck…” 

She gave him a look, almost innocent but not quite, her touch deliberately teasing him the way he’d been teasing her. Stan let out another shaky laugh, grabbing her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her. He placed his hand over hers, showing her the rhythm that made his body jolt and the pace that left his breaths ragged.

It was almost too much, too good. He kissed her again, slower this time, letting the moment sink in before he finally shifted his weight, positioning himself above her. He looked down at her, really looked- taking in her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her eyes searched his for reassurance.

He leaned down, as his hand guided himself into place. The anticipation was unbearable, the air thick with it, until he finally pushed forward, slow and careful, slipping into her warmth. She only tightened her grip on him, nails grazing his back, urging him on.

At first, he tried to be slow, his movements deliberate, so she’d get adjusted to him. The sounds coming out of her earlier were growing louder every time he rolled his hips faster, making him dizzy with lust. He couldn’t take much more of it and he knew it, as his pace picked up and she locked him in place with her arms pressed against his back. She unraveled first and when her body arched against him, it didn’t take long for him to do so too. His movements grew more bold, more erratic, before he caught her lips and faintly groaned against hers. For an instant, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths, the heat of their skin pressed together and the sharp thud of his heartbeat against her chest.

He stayed inside her for a moment longer, unwilling to let go just yet. His arms tightened around her, as though anchoring himself, before finally shifting slightly so he wouldn’t crush her under his weight. 

Slowly, Stan lifted his head, strands of hair sticking to his temple. His eyes met hers, still hazy, still trying to process what just happened. A small, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips, the kind that slipped out when words weren’t enough.

 “Holy shit…”

She mirrored his laugh, soft and breathless, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah…” was all she managed, her voice catching slightly before fading into a smile.

Stan then slowly shifted off her just enough to ease the weight, rolling to his side of the bed, while lovingly pulling her against his chest. His arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her close as though he was afraid the moment might disappear if he let go. His thumb absentmindedly traced shapes on her skin, as if grounding himself.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice carrying that familiar tinge of self-consciousness. “If I was… like… too much or whatever.” His gaze flicked to hers nervously, searching.

She shook her head almost instantly, brushing her fingers over his cheek. “You weren’t. Not at all.’’

*********************** Link to Masterlist/ Story Index => HERE Part 1 Part 2 <- You Are Here Part 3 *************************

Two days later, the memory still gnawed at him, though he wouldn’t admit it. On his way back from Tweek Bros., coffee cup in hand, he took the long route to clear his mind, walking past Butters’ block. It was then that a familiar smell hit his nose.

Weed. He knew exactly where that came from too, remembering his dad had mentioned she’d stopped by the farm not too long ago. His eyes flicked toward the porch of the little house next to Butters’- and sure enough, there she was. (Y/N), sunk back in a swing, scrolling on her phone lazily with one hand, the other holding a joint between her fingers. She looked too at ease, too nonchalant, for someone who’d been chewed out at Kyle’s just days ago.

When her eyes finally lifted up and met his, she got startled, coughing into her sleeve as smoke caught in her throat. She nearly choked, her eyes watering as she blurted dryly, “Stan.”

“(Y/N),” he returned, his tone equally dry, his shoulders stiff.

For a moment, it seemed like that was it. He was about to keep walking, coffee cup tight in his hand, when her voice cut through the crisp evening air.

“Wait.”

He paused reluctantly, glancing back. She lowered the joint, tapping ash into a ceramic mug on the porch rail. 

“What was your deal the other night? At Kyle’s? You acted like I came in there trying to ruin your night or something.”

Stan blinked, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I-” He shook his head. “I just… it wasn’t about you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She leaned back against the swing with one knee bent, her gaze still sharp on him. “I didn’t ask Butters to drag me there, I didn’t beg anyone to let me hang out. I just moved back, and suddenly it’s like I’m public enemy number one to you. What the hell did I do?”

Stan shifted uncomfortably, the irritation from Kyle’s lecture coming back to him. “Nothing, okay? You didn’t do anything. I just-” He trailed off, kicking at the gravel under his shoes.

“You just what?” she pressed, crossing her arms now, joint pinched between two fingers like punctuation. “Because from where I’m standing, Stan, you’ve been a total asshole for no reason.”

He finally looked up, meeting her eyes with a mix of guilt and defensiveness. “It’s just-everywhere I go, someone’s talking about you, alright ? Like you’re the hottest topic in town and it’s kind of… getting exhausting.”

Her expression softened slightly, though she didn’t let him off that easy. 

“You think I asked for that attention? You think I wanted to come back here and have people whispering like I’m some novelty? I didn’t ask for any of this either. I grew up here and wanted to come back. End of story.” She explained.

“That’s not what I meant!” Stan snapped, then caught himself, exhaling sharply as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just… I don’t get it. You leave, you come back, and suddenly it’s all (Y/N) this, (Y/N) that. And yeah, maybe I overreacted. But it wasn’t because you did anything wrong.”

For a moment, the two stood there, the faint creak of the porch’s swing the only sound between them. Stan’s grip loosened on his coffee cup, letting go of the tension in his shoulders.

“....Look okay?...maybe I was kind of a dick,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”

Her lips curved faintly, though she kept her tone dry. “You think?”

Stan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. “Yeah. Listen- I’m… sorry, okay?”

She studied him for a minute, then lifted the joint back to her lips. After a long drag, she exhaled and said, “Good. ‘Cause if you keep acting like that, we’re gonna have a real problem.”

Something about the casual threat, half joking, half serious, made Stan huff out a laugh despite himself.

“Actually,” he said, his voice dry but still carrying a small edge of playfulness, “you’re the one who’s gonna have a problem if you keep smoking that crap. Pretty sure you bought it from my dad, right?”

That broke her composure and a faint chuckle escaped her lips.

“Guilty. What can I say? It’s legal here now. Might as well take advantage of it. Besides…” She lifted the joint slightly, then lowered it with a shrug. “If I wanna survive whatever insane bullshit South Park throws at me next, a little escape doesn’t hurt, right?”

He wanted to bite back, to point out how destructive that “escape” could get, but the thought hit him like a punch in the gut: Who was he to talk? He knew damn well he had no room to criticize. He recalled the many nights he’d pull a hidden bottle from his drawers, or how the taste of whiskey had become more familiar than he’d ever liked to admit. He knew despite himself the feeling of addiction, of numbness, of how it was starting to feel like his dad’s habits were carved into him, whether he liked it or not. 

He wasn’t any better than she was.

“Yeah… I guess we all got our shit.” He finally muttered, his eyes drifting to the bottom of his coffee cup. 

(Y/N) sighed as she slowly let her guard down and shifted on the swing. The rusty chains creaked as she nudged to one side, making space. Whatever grudge Stan had been holding against her, she was hoping it could be left behind.

“...You wanna sit down?” She offered, to his surprise. 

He hesitated for a moment. Sitting down with her meant admitting he was wrong, meant facing what he didn’t want to face. He didn’t want another lecture- didn’t want her to rub salt in the wound, or for her to remind him how much of a jerk he’d been to her. But the way her face softened, the way she remained patient wasn’t an invitation to fight - it was almost like a peace offering. 

Slowly, but surely, he took a few steps closer and lowered himself onto the seat beside her. The feeling of guilt was still there, sharp in his chest, but so was a strange relief, like the simple act of being invited to sit meant that maybe, he hadn’t ruined it all. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the long silence only broken by the occasional car driving by or birds chirping from high up in the trees. 

She eventually turned sideways to him, holding up the blunt between two fingers as she offered it to him.

“Truce?”

Stan looked at it, unsure. He thought about saying no, about holding on to some kind of moral high ground. But then he thought back about the bottles hidden under his bed, in his drawers. About the sick feeling in his gut whenever he woke up after a binge. He wasn’t in a position to act like he was above her. Not even close.

He stared at the joint for what felt like far too long, the silence between them stretching. Then, with a quiet exhale, he reached out and took it between his own fingers. He turned it over like it was foreign, studying the thin line of smoke rising from it. His hesitation was visible, but finally, he brought it to his lips and took a hit. The burn in his throat made him cough softly, though he tried to stifle it.

“Hey so…I just wanted to ask… Are we cool now?” She asked, breaking the silence, as he passed it back to her. 

The weight of his earlier outburst seemed to fade out a little. “Yeah.. we're cool I guess.”

“Okay. Good enough for me.” She concluded, the corners of her lips curving up in the faintest smile.

**********

Over the course of the next following days, Stan found himself replaying their conversation on her porch, more than he’d thought he would. Every time he tried to focus on something else, like schoolwork, or hanging out with Kyle and the others- the memory of her calm, almost effortless demeanor kept being rewinded in his mind. Unlike with Wendy, who would have lost her patience and shouted at him a dozen times by now, (Y/N) had this quiet assurance, a way of existing that made him think maybe… people didn’t always have to be so dramatic.

At first, he tried to convince himself it was nothing, just neutral grounds between two kids who’d been raised in the same town, that she was just being polite. But even small things, like hearing her name casually mentioned around town no longer set him on edge, which was a rather nice change.

Even Kyle, noticing the sudden attitude change, had once raised a curious brow at him. “Uh… you’re not pissed anymore?” he asked.

Stan shook his head, almost surprising himself. “Nah… it’s fine. It’s cool, dude.”

His friend gave him a curious look, clearly remembering the night at his house. “Really? Huh… well, good for you, I guess.”

Stan just shrugged again and moved on, letting Kyle’s comment fade into the background.

Later that night, while he was sitting at his desk -busy watching the last stupid video Kenny had sent him, the sound of his phone buzzing caught his attention. He supposed it was probably him sending another link, another video yet again- but he had the surprise of seeing (Y/N)’s name popping up on his screen instead.

“Hey Stan, just wanted to say, we don’t have to be super close friends or anything if you don’t want to, but I’m just glad we could put that whole thing aside.”

Part of him wanted to reply immediately with something like ‘’yeah, whatever’’ but another part recognized how much that simple line would make him look. After all, when they’d talked it out, she had been calm and collected, extending a hand to him, even when he’d been upset with her for no valid reason.

Stan first tried to type a reply. “Uh… yeah, cool.”

Deleted.

Typed again. “Sure, that’s fine. I… I wasn’t upset anymore anyway.”

Deleted.

He exhaled sharply at the third attempt, leaning back in his chair. His fingers hovered over his phone for a second, before he made at least some sort of effort to not sound like an ass.

“Yeah. It’s cool. No worries. Glad we can move past it too.”

He hit send and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Almost immediately, his phone buzzed again. He didn’t expect that fast of a reply.

“Appreciate it :) Goodnight Stan.”

The simple message hit just hard enough.

Shortly after that, the truce had started to take root. It wasn’t friendship quite yet, not fully, but the edges of rivalry had… softened a little with time. 

He was able to be around her without sparks flying every time her name came up.

And every time he walked past her house and she’d wave, or whenever they exchanged quick messages over dumb South Park memes, he was gradually growing more curious. 

For a girl he didn’t really hang out with in their younger years- For someone he couldn’t give two shits about until just about two weeks ago - he found himself thinking she was easier to talk to than he had given her credits for. 

When Clyde texted him that night, more than a little late with the news, the message left a sour taste  in his mouth. ‘’Dude… did you know (Y/N) is back in town? She’s really hot now.’’ He found himself staring at the text. He could feel the ever too familiar feeling of irritation flickering in him reading those words, without quite realizing why just yet.

He knew Clyde had always been the one to notice girls first, he was always on top of that game. Stan knew, deep down, it was only a matter of time before Clyde tried to swoop in, start a conversation, or God forbid-make some move.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could fire back something quick, maybe sarcastic, maybe indifferent. But instead, he swiped away from Clyde’s chat and reopened hers. The screen showed their last exchange from the night before. 

The thread felt unfinished. A part of him wanted to pick it back up, throw out a casual “So what’ve you been up to?” or something equally harmless. But he froze, thumbs poised above the letters. It’d look desperate, right? Needy. Like he was chasing her down after being the one who acted like a complete jerk at first. But then, by some chance as he was going over the last sent texts and exchanged memes, he saw three little dots at the bottom of the screen, an indicator she was typing. Her: Can you believe fucking Towelie found out I smoked pot and begged me to sell him some ? Dude. I can't believe that guy is still around.

The simple fact that she chose him to share that dumb little story with, out of all people, hit him in a place he didn’t expect. She didn’t sound guarded, or awkward. It felt casual. Like it was normal to talk to him. Like she wanted to.

He typed back without hesitation this time: Stan: lol of course he’s still around. towelie’s like immortal or some shit. Her: yeah, immortal and still unemployed apparently

Stan : Last i heard my dad tried to hire him at tegridy. guess towelie wasn’t even high functioning enough for that. Her: lmaoo oh my god. that’s tragic.

Stan then flipped back to Clyde’s chat. For once, he didn’t want him getting the satisfaction of being “first.” He didn’t want him to think she was just another name on his list of girls to chase. So he finally typed out, short and careful:

yeah, i know. it’s pretty cool she’s back.

He hit send before he could rethink it.

**** The following day, Stan was sitting slouched on the couch with a controller in hand, the familiar whine of the racing game they played at Kyles filling the quiet living room. He leaned forward as his car drifted around a curve, the plastic buttons clicking under his thumbs. Until the front door creaked open without a knock.

“Sup, dude,” Cartman’s voice cut through like nails on glass. He waddled in with zero shame, plopping down beside Stan and kicking his shoes onto the coffee table like he owned the place. “Jesus Christ, it’s like a fucking funeral home here. You’re really just sittin’ here by yourself playin’ games?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Cartman?”

“I was bored to death, okay?” Cartman huffed, pulling out his phone like he was the victim. “Butters got grounded, so I can’t mess with him. And Kyle’s being a gay little prick as usual. So you’re my last resort. Figured I’d grace you with my presence.”

“Lucky me.”

Eric’s eyes then darted toward the screen, completely ignoring the last comment.

“Training, huh? Good call, dude. You don’t wanna lose against a stupid bitch again. Seriously, that was pretty lame last time.”

“Hey, don’t call her that.” Stan retorted, attempting to look casual about it.

“I’m just sayin’, dude. You got wrecked. By a  fucking chick. Don’t tell me you’re defending her now?”

Stan shot him a sideways glare. “We talked, okay? It’s fine, dude.”

“You talked? What the fuck, Stan? That’s lame. Don’t waste your time. That stupid bitch doesn’t give a shit about you. She’s too busy hangin’ out with Clyde’s dumbass gang at the mall right now. You think she really cares about you being a white knight or some crap?”

“… What?”

Cartman shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world. 

“Yeah. I saw them like an hour ago. Clyde, Craig, Tweek and her. All buddy-buddy in the mall parking lot. Guess she ditched the losers to hang with the bigger losers.”

Stan shook his head, trying to brush it off. 

“You’re full of shit, Cartman.”

“Mm-hm. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Cartman stood, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “Look it up yourself. Bet you five bucks you’ll find it. You’ll thank me later for dodging a bullet.” 

“Look, can you just go ?” Stan nearly ordered, already aggravated by his unplanned presence.

“Yeah, I'll go alright. I’ve got more important stuff to do anyway than listening to you whining about a chick.” Eric snorted, seemingly unbothered by Stan’s struggles. He made his way out the door without a goodbye and just like that, the house fell silent again.

Stan unpaused the game, but his focus was gone by now. He ended up tossing the controller aside, grabbing his phone instead. He scrolled through his feed, thumb moving quick- adamant on proving Cartman was just full of shit- until he froze.

Sure enough, there it was. A group picture. Clyde grinning with his arm around Tweek, Craig flipping the camera off and right in the center, smiling and holding up a peace sign, was her. 

It wasn’t like she was alone with Clyde- but something about seeing her in that photo with them, comfortable, fitting in with his group, stung way harder than Stan had prepared himself for. He stared at the picture longer than he should’ve, a sharp, unpleasant feeling settling in his chest. For once in his life, Cartman wasn’t lying.

Stan grabbed his phone and headed upstairs to his room. 

Cartman’s laugh echoed in his head. Her smile from the photo overlapped with it. Clyde’s smug grin didn’t help either.

He couldn’t stop this gnawing feeling biting at him right now. 

He threw his phone face down on the bed, crouching next to it and reaching out for what was hidden under. Where his mom wouldn’t find it. The liquor he told himself he didn’t need anymore.

Stan stood up, bottle in hand, staring at the amber liquid sloshing inside. His thumb tapped against the glass as if hesitation alone could erase the weight of what he was about to do. He decided to step outside onto the porch for some air, the night air sharp against his skin. For a moment, he only held it, still debating whether he should actually drink from it or not. 

He tried to convince himself he’d take just a sip. Just to take the edge off. To clear his mind. The burn hit his throat and for a fleeting second, it dulled the restless noise in his head, if only momentarily. But then the bottle tilted again. A second time. A third. Each time he swallowed only made his sight blurrier, his thoughts heavier. Somewhere between one drink and the next, he lost count and when he finally lowered it, he stared at the half-empty bottle in disbelief.

“…What the fuck am I doing?”

*************************** Link to Masterlist/ Story Index => HERE Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 <- You Are Here ****************************

The entire house hung in a tense silence. It barely took a minute before it started crumbling.

Kenny was the first to crack, unable to hold it any longer. He started laughing so hard he was wiping tears. Stan slapped a hand over his mouth but couldn’t contain it either, his shoulders shaking, before he followed suit. Even Butters, who usually kept himself out of conflicts and always avoided making Eric upset at all costs, giggled behind his hands before sputtering outright. That set off a chain reaction, the whole group erupting into mocking laughter. 

”SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up! All of you!” Cartman ordered, shouting as loud as possible.

That only made Kenny wheeze harder, clutching to Stan next to him for balance.

Cartman’s eyes immediately darted to Kyle, who was busy wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. 

“This is YOUR fault, you goddamn Jew! You invited her, you threw this stupid party, you’re gonna fucking pay for this! Screw you guys and screw this whole night! Bunch of backstabbers. I hope you all choke on your stupid snacks, you fucking assholes.” And with a dramatic slam, he disappeared into the night.

(Y/N) was still frozen in place meanwhile, catching her breath, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Great, now her friends would probably think she’d finally gone crazy. She finally turned around and faced them, half-expecting to see judgment in her friends’ eyes. Instead, she heard the laughter before she even saw the faces.

No way that just happened.” Clyde snorted. “You demolished him. That was fucking brutal.”

“H-Holy crap!! I thought Cartman was gonna explode !!” Tweek added. 

Her lips tugged into a small, reluctant smile. “...You guys aren’t freaked out?”

“Freaked out?” Bebe wiped her eyes, still giggling. “Girl, that was the most iconic thing I’ve seen since middle school.”

“Seriously,” Even Wendy chimed in, trying to compose herself. “No one’s stood up to that douchebag like that in years.“

Then (Y/N) realized. Her friends had probably seen things far crazier in South Park than some city girl returning to town and lashing out at a fat boy. If anything, she’d gained respect by standing her grounds, half expecting Cartman as she knew him to retaliate later. But for now, the thoughts were brushed aside.

The circle erupted into chatter, everyone trying to add their take, but her attention wavered, because across the room, Kyle was watching her. Unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing hard or showering her in praise. He just gave her a faint, knowing smile.

Something about it made a switch flip in her.

She excused herself from the group quicker this time around , slipping through the crowd while the girls smirked behind her backs, exchanging a flurry of wide-eyed glances.

“Don’t stare,” Bebe whispered, elbowing Wendy. “Act normal!”

“Normal?!” Wendy hissed back. “Girl, we’re watching history here.”

Stan glanced at them, bewildered. “...What are you even-”

“Shh!” they both snapped in unison, turning their ears back toward the pair.

Kyle, on his end, met (Y/N) halfway, his smile breaking into something wider, more animated. 

“That was… pretty badass, dude.” he admitted, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, Cartman’s a pain in the ass, and we’ve all snapped at him, but, Jesus Christ. You obliterated him.”

She let out a nervous laugh, glancing at the floor. “I thought you’d call me crazy for it. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Kyle scoffed. ‘’Cartman is NOT my friend. Trust me, you don’t need to hold back on him. He deserves every bit of what you threw his way.”

She laughed faintly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. She’d just heard similar praise from the others, but coming from him… it felt different. He was the one who’d planned this party, who’d thought about her enough to even bring everyone together just to celebrate her return. Hearing him call her amazing sent a warm feeling through her chest she couldn’t quite brush off.

“Really?” she asked softly.

“Definitely,” he replied without hesitation. “I… I didn’t know you had that side of you. It’s pretty impressive.”

Her stomach fluttered unexpectedly at the word. She’d always known Kyle Broflovski as the smart one of the boys’ group, the voice of reason holding things together even back in the day. Seeing him now, older, taller, she realized he was also a lot more pleasing to the eyes than she’d remembered.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Wendy and Bebe were blatantly watching, whispering behind their hands.

“They’re so into each other,” Bebe hissed.

“Shh!” Wendy giggled back. “Don’t ruin it!”

Stan and Kenny tried to ignore the girls’ giddiness, focusing on their drinks and chatting about anything else. But every so often, they got shushed again, forced to roll their eyes as the girls leaned forward like spectators at a movie.

The last new couple to spark among their age group had been Cartman and Heidi years ago-and that had been a disaster everyone tried to forget. Now, watching this unfold, there was a buzz of anticipation in the air. Something interesting was happening.

‘’Hey you wanna uh..talk outside for a bit, maybe? It’s… kinda loud in here.’’ Kyle asked her, which she accepted. As soon as they stepped out and he pulled it closed, a loud burst of cheering and whistles erupted inside. He froze mid-motion, staring at the door.

“…Oh my god,” he muttered.

Her eyes widened, then she stifled a laugh with her hand. “Are they-?”

“Yeah,” Kyle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ignore them. Please. One fight tonight was enough.”

“Guess they’re having fun in there,” she said, smirking, brushing it off. For a moment, silence stretched between them,  like two people who hadn’t realized how much they had to say until now and didn’t know where to start. She broke it first. “It’s weird, you know? I was sure coming back here would feel… different. Like, maybe I wouldn’t fit in anymore. But sitting in there? Talking with you and everyone? It’s like I never left.” “I know what you mean. People think this town never changes, and really- it doesn’t. You blink, and suddenly you realize everyone’s just grown up.” He responded, looking into the distance. She tilted her head at him, studying his face in the soft glow of the porch light. He really had changed, his shoulders were broader, he had a little more confidence in the way he stood, though he still had that hint of nervousness in his eyes that reminded her of the little boy he once used to be. “Well, you’ve definitely grown up,” she said before she could stop herself. Kyle looked down, trying to hide his faint smile. “Yeah? I guess. Or maybe I’ve just gotten better at pretending I have.” ‘’You always seemed to be the one who had it all figured out, even back then.’’ Kyle exhaled, a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Funny you say that. Because if there’s one thing I definitely don’t have, it’s everything figured out. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I try. But half the time I’m just making it up as I go.”

She raised a brow, teasing. “That so? ‘Cause you pulled off a whole party tonight without breaking a sweat.”

He shrugged. “I just… wanted to do something nice. Figured coming back after five years should feel special.”

Her face warmed up a bit. She hadn’t expected him of all people to care that much. She glanced down at her shoes, smiling sheepishly. “It does. More than you think.”

Kyle shifted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye with a faint smile on his lips. “Listen, you know… when you went off on Cartman earlier-”

“Oh god.” She groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Please don’t remind me. I don’t even know what came over me.” It made him chuckle. He’d always been embarrassed about that side of him himself, but unlike him, she had let it out so openly against Eric, unafraid of any consequences.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. Honestly? It was… awesome. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him back down like that before. Believe me, I’ve tried for years. I mean, look... I get it, actually. My mom’s from Jersey, so… I know what that side feels like. I’ve got it in me too, you know?’’

Her eyebrows shot up, surprised. “Wait-you? You’ve got a Jersey side?” ‘’Y-yeah. Like I said. Comes from my mom. Honestly, I’d heard you left to the city, but no one mentioned you went to New Jersey out of all places.” He explained.

“And honestly ? I think I’d pay to see that side of you one day” She laughed, making him do so in turn.

From inside, a sudden burst of cheering erupted, muffled through the door, cutting them mid-conversation. Clearly, the girls were still observing, probably throwing bets. Kyle sighed as he shook his head, though his smile lingered, more amused than upset at the sound of them.

“I’m surprised they haven’t started a pool yet, Jesus.” He commented. “They’re not even subtle about it.”

“Oh trust me, they did.” She confirmed, well aware of how the girls were. 

He nodded, quiet for a moment, then his voice dropped, changing the topic. 

“You know… I think…I kinda regret not talking to you more back then. You were always around, always with the girls, but… I don’t know. I never really gave myself the chance to really know you.”

She blinked, taken aback by the honesty. She could feel her face warming up at his words. “Well…I guess you’re making up for it now.”

He gave her a small smile, his eyes locking on hers. “Yeah. And honestly? You’re pretty cool.”

“Took you long enough to figure that out, Broflovski.” She laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

From the way the girls’ muffled squeals echoed through the door, someone inside had definitely just won a bet.

The cold finally started to creep under their jackets and both Kyle and (Y/N) exchanged a glance, silently agreeing it was time to head back in. As Kyle slid the door open, the warmth of the living room hit the pair, greeted by a suspiciously calm scene. The girls were all perched on the couches, chatting like nothing had happened- though the whispering and the faint grins tugging at their lips gave them away instantly.

“Subtle,” he muttered under his breath.

(Y/N) leaned closer so only he could hear. “They’re not even trying to hide it.”

They exchanged a quick smile, though neither moved closer, each silently refusing to give the girls their satisfaction. Still, when Kyle pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, his eyes widened.

“Crap,” he muttered under his breath. “My parents are gonna be home around midnight. If this place is still trashed when they get here, I’m screwed.”

“Midnight?!” Butters’ voice cracked across the room. His face drained pale as he checked his own phone. “Oh geez, oh hamburgers, I was supposed to be home hours ago!! I’m so gonna get it!” He scrambled to his feet, practically tripping over a chair as he grabbed his coat.

“Bye Butters! See you later!” (Y/N) called out.

“Yeah, uh- later!” He responded in a frantic voice, half panicked, half thankful he was potentially gonna see her again.

His exit created a ripple effect, some of the other guests realized how late it was and began gathering their own things. Soon the house was quieter, the chatter dimming until only Wendy, Bebe, (Y/N), and Kyle remained.

As (Y/N) picked up stray plastic cups from the counter, Wendy wandered over, lowering her voice so Kyle wouldn’t hear. “Good luck,” she whispered with a sly smile.

(Y/N) blinked, confused. “What?”

Wendy winked before tugging Bebe toward the door. “Night guys!”

When the two left, closing the door behind them, Kyle glanced over at her, catching the way she bent down to gather a handful of wrappers. “Hey,” he said softly. “Thanks for helping. You really didn’t have to.”

She looked back at him and smiled. “It’s the least I can do. You went through all the trouble of planning this.”

Her words made him pause for a moment. It made him smile as he continued to tidy up alongside her. Part of him hoped she wasn’t just being polite- that maybe, just maybe, she wanted an excuse to stay a little longer.

By the time the living room looked presentable again, the clock was just ten minutes shy of midnight. 

“So…” they both began, then immediately stopped.

“You first,” Kyle said, gesturing.

“No, no, you go,” she insisted.

He hesitated, then chuckled, letting her say her piece first.

“Well, I just wanted to say… that was actually a lot of fun tonight. You didn’t have to do all this, but I’m really glad you did. I still owe you one for pulling it off.” She explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Kyle shifted his weight, the relief visible in his smile. “Honestly, I’m just glad you had a good time. That’s what I was hoping for.” 

A short silence followed, as the two teens exchanged a brief eye contact. Then, a little awkwardly, he asked:

“Uh.. look, would you maybe.. like to hang out sometimes ? I could help you with unpacking if you want. Or maybe we could grab something to eat?” 

The invitation caught her off guard, but her answer came easily. 

“Yeah. I- I’d like that.” 

His grin widened, though he quickly tried to play it cool. “Cool. Okay. Yeah. We’ll uh - We’ll figure it out. You got my number, right?”

She nodded as he walked her to the door, both of them slowing once they’d reached the front porch outside. She pulled her coat tighter, the cold biting at her, both pausing as they looked at each other again like neither of them wanted the night to end just yet, but couldn’t admit it.

Then, hesitantly, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. For a second, he froze in surprise before his arms slid around her too, returning the embrace with just as much warmth.

“Thanks again, Kyle,” she murmured.

He smiled against her shoulder. “Yeah. Anytime.”

Kyle’s arms were still around her when headlights suddenly swept across the snow-dusted yard. He stiffened slightly, peeking over her shoulder just in time to see his parents’ car pulling into the driveway. His heart skipped, of course they’d be home right now.

(Y/N) pulled back, not noticing his brief panic, and smiled up at him. “Thank you Kyle. Really.”

He forced himself to focus, waving casually as she walked down the street. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll… I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She glanced back, smile widening, before disappearing into the night.

*****

It was only a couple days later that Kyle found himself at her house, giving her a hand at unpacking just like he’d offered before. His sleeves were rolled up, sorting through a box of books in her living room while she was busy unpacking silverware. 

“Dude, you have so many books. Did you even read all of them?” He questioned, half impressed, grabbing a fantasy novel out of the pile. “I didn’t think you were even into this stuff.”

“Hey! That’s a classic. Don’t judge until you read it.” She exclaimed, pointing at him with a spoon. 

“Look, I’m not judging, I’ve read it too!” Kyle pointed out with a grin. “I just - didn’t picture you being into dragons and magic and all that stuff.”

“There’s still lots you don’t know about me, Broflovski.” She teased, as he opened another box near to him. 

“Alright,” he said, dusting off his hands. “What’s in this one? Please don’t say more mugs or books.”

She crouched next to him by the box, tearing it open. “No mugs this time. Oh-games!” She pulled out a stack of old Nintendo cases, grinning. “Didn’t think I’d kept all these.”

Kyle blinked. “Wait, you play? Since when?”

She gave him a look. “Since forever. You never knew?”

“I…guess not.” 

She laughed, tossing him one of the cases. “Well, you’re officially invited to a 1v1, whenever you want. Just don’t cry when I beat you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” He snorted, teasing her just as equally.

They moved on to another box, this one full of craft supplies, like paint, scissors, little jars of beads. Kyle held up a hot glue gun, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s this for, exactly?”

“Crafting,” she said simply, tugging it back. “I used to make all kinds of stuff. Jewelry, decorations… once I even tried cosplay, but that was a disaster. We don’t talk about that.”

Kyle chuckled, shaking his head. “Never would’ve guessed. You’ve got, like, hidden layers or something.”

She smirked. “And I guess you’re just now discovering them.”

Hours passed with easy, comfortable chatter. They teased each other, traded stories about school days and old friends and every time she laughed, Kyle found himself watching her just a little too long. It wasn’t just that she was cute- it was the way she made him feel like he’d known her forever with how comfortable they were in each other's presence.

At one point, she flopped down on the couch with a sigh. “Okay. Enough unpacking. My back’s seriously killing me.”

Kyle dropped beside her, leaning back as he stifled a laugh. “Yeah. You’ve got way too much stuff, dude.“

They sat there a moment in comfortable silence before she nudged him with her shoulder. “You hungry?”

“Uh… yeah, kinda.”

“Good,” she said, grabbing her phone. “I say we order something, eat here and put on a show. Sound good?”

Kyle thought about it for half a second, then smiled in approval. “Yeah. Sounds great.”

She grinned, scrolling through delivery apps. “Alright then, pizza or shitty Wok?”

He agreed with the former and as she leaned closer to show him the menu on her phone, their shoulders brushed. Neither moved away. For the first time in a long while, Kyle wondered if maybe that hug wasn’t the only thing they’d end up sharing.

After dinner, the leftover boxes sat forgotten in the corner, abandoned in favor of comfort, along with their dinner’s leftovers. Kyle leaned back into the couch with his arms crossed, but his eyes kept betraying him. Every time she pointed something out on the screen with a laugh or a comment, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her instead.

She even caught him once, smirking.

“You’re not even watching this, are you?”

“What? No, I am. I just, uh, this show’s dumb, that’s all.” Kyle had mumbled, flustered.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the TV, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press further. He couldn’t deny it, her energy was filling the room in a way that tugged at him, making him feel like just sitting there wasn’t enough.

When the credits rolled, she jumped up, heading to her game cabinet. 

“Okay then, enough dumb TV. Let’s see if this thing still works.” She pulled out an old console, dusted it off and plugged it into the screen. The startup chime made her grin.

Kyle raised a brow. “You still have this? That’s… actually kind of awesome.”

“Obviously,” she said, tossing him a controller. “You ready to lose?”

He scoffed, grabbing the controller she’d handed him. “As if. You’re going down.”

What had started as a casual game quickly spiraled into a battle. They leaned forward, elbows almost bumping, even trash-talking each other as the competition got fierce. Kyle’s focus was unmatched, but hers was too and when she clinched a narrow victory, she leapt to her feet in triumph.

“Yes! I told you!” she gloated, pointing down at him as he groaned. “Bow down, Kyle. Bow down!”

Kyle laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, you win. You win.”

She plopped back onto the couch, smug and glowing with pride. That was when it happened-he found himself staring again. The way her smile lingered, the spark in her eyes, the way she carried herself like she knew exactly who she was- it all hit him at once.

She caught him again, tilting her head in mild confusion. “What? …. Do I got something on my face?”

Kyle’s ears burned. “N-no. Nothing.”

He hesitated, his thumbs fiddling at the controller in his lap. His heart thudded, his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to brush it off, but the words pressed up against him, demanding to be said.

“It’s just… I’ve been having a really great time tonight, you know.”

Her smirk softened, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s just- ” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to get the next words out while she was looking at him. “You’re… you’re cute, and funny- and I kind of like being here with you, I-”

Before he could finish, she reached over and gently set her hand over his. The warmth of her touch calmed the frantic pounding in his chest.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Relax. I’m glad you told me.”

Kyle stared at their hands, then back up to her. Suddenly, the air between them felt like it’d just shifted- like he’d realized that maybe, his feelings of attraction weren’t all that one-sided in the first place. 

She leaned a little closer, her hand still over his. Kyle’s breath caught and instinctively, he mirrored her movement.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, they closed the gap, their lips meeting in a soft, testing kiss. It wasn’t rushed, or clumsy, it was careful, deliberate, both of them savoring the moment as if to confirm it was real.

The hum of the television was nothing more than background noise at this point.

At first, it was gentle. Their lips brushing, lingering, pulling back just enough to look at each other, before diving in again. Kyle’s hand, unsure but yearning, slid from her waist to her thigh. His touch was featherlight, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed, but it grounded him, steadying the rush of nerves that made his chest tight.

She answered by leaning in closer, pulling his hat off his head before tossing it aside. Her fingers threaded into his curls, tugging softly. The sound that escaped his throat- half a sigh, half a hum, made her lips curve into a smile against his. When her nails brushed his scalp, he gave another soft sound, one he didn’t even mean to let slip.

She liked that, hoping to hear more of it.

The kiss deepened, no longer tentative. She guided him without hesitation, pushing him enough until his back sank into the cushions of the couch. His green eyes widened briefly, startled by the shift, but he didn’t resist it in the slightest. Instead, he let out a shaky laugh against her mouth, hands sliding up her sides as if he couldn’t help himself.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and whenever she’d shift the weight of her body, pressing against him, he’d groan softly, the sound muffled into her mouth. Her laugh in response was quiet, almost teasing. She shifted deliberately, lowering herself so she was pressed fully against him. He stiffened for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation, before a shaky exhale left him and he let himself melt into it.

His hands finally roamed, not aimless, but slow and deliberate- down her thighs, back up her sides, as if he’d been memorizing her. Every touch sent little sparks through both of them. When her lips trailed away from his mouth and brushed down to his neck, Kyle let out a sharp breath, fingers digging slightly into her hips.

“Y-you’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

She smiled against his skin, whispering back, “Good. You drive me crazy too.”

Kyle’s heart hammered as the words left her lips, igniting something in him he hadn’t expected. His breath caught. No girl had ever said that to him. No girl had ever looked at him like that, wanted him in that way. She radiated confidence, looking so sure of herself in that instant that it only made him want her more.

Her fingers traced the line of his ribs under his shirt- her touch light, teasing- and impossibly tantalizing. The sensation felt electric, sending shivers down his spine. Without a pause, she pushed his shirt up and over his head, leaving him bare to the cool air of the room. Kyle’s skin prickled at the exposure, a mixture of vulnerability and anticipation pulling at him. His mind, ever so racing, was screaming warnings, but his body had other plans.

“You know what. Fuck it,” he muttered to himself under his breath, his internal hesitation instantly evaporating. He mirrored her boldness and tugged her own shirt off. He paused for just a moment, searching her eyes, feeling the gravity of what they were about to do.  

“Are you… sure about this?” he asked, voice showing the slightest hint of vulnerability despite the bravado he tried to hide so well. 

‘’With you? Yeah, I’m sure.’’ She confirmed.

It was all he needed. The way she said it knocked the last bit of hesitation out of him. Their mouths crashed together again, hungrier. Kyle’s hands slid up her back, feeling every curve, every line of her body under his palms. She pressed herself closer, skin against skin and the contact made him groan low into the kiss. Her fingers roamed over his torso now that his shirt was gone, tracing the shape of him.  When her nails grazed lightly down his stomach, his breath hitched and she smirked against his lips, clearly pleased at his reaction. 

He wanted more, needed more, losing himself in this foreign feeling, but he also wanted to take his time. He kissed along her jaw, down her neck- and when she shivered over him, the sound that slipped from her lips made his whole body ache with lust.

His thumbs stroked over her hips before sliding higher, until his hands framed her ribs just beneath her bra. He hesitated and his eyes flicked up to hers, silently asking.

Her answer came in the form of a gentle push, as she took his hands and guided them up, showing him it was okay. His breath stuttered as he realized how much she trusted him, at how much she wanted this too.

Clothes began to fall away piece by piece, scattered across the floor. Kyle’s hands trembled as they slid up her bare chest, tracing every line, every dip, memorizing her.

She shifted her weight, lowering herself against him-and the sound that escaped his throat was raw, unguarded. His hands instinctively gripped her hips to stop her from moving. She laughed softly, teasing, “Didn’t know I could make you sound like that.”

“...Yeah? Do you seriously have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”

“Guess I’ll find out,” she whispered, brushing her lips along his jawline, down to the sensitive spot at his neck. Kyle sucked in a breath, his grip on her tightening.

His wide green eyes drank her in, lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. She tilted her head, smirking at his stunned expression. “You…like what you see?”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

A faint chuckle escaped her mouth. It was only when she slightly rocked her hips against him that his smug grin was wiped off his face. ‘’C-Come on, you can’t do this to me.’’ He nearly pleaded, his hands finding themselves down her ass to pull her closer. His fingers hesitantly wandered down near her center, just slightly sliding up and down and realizing how excited she was- making her quietly hiss in turn. 

‘’Didn’t know you could make sounds like that.’’ He used her own sentence against her, teasingly.

Her cheeks burned hot, but she only smirked back. “Then you’d better keep going if you want to hear more.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. At first, his touch was careful, testing, as though he was still afraid he might cross a line. But when her body arched into his, her breath catching, it gave him the confidence he hadn’t known he was holding back. Every reaction she gave him was addictive and the more he explored, the more he realized how much power she was giving him just by letting him in.

When she gently pried his hand away and rocked her hips against him with more intention, he couldn’t take much more. She positioned herself right above him and with ease, he slid right into her as a soft gasp evaded her lips. ‘’You okay?’’ He asked with a hint of concern in his voice. ‘’Y-Yeah. I’m okay.’’ She smiled, connecting her lips with his before slowly moving. ‘’Okay, okay just- go slow, alright?’’ He hissed against her mouth, not wanting things to end too fast. She obliged, starting at a slow pace as she kissed him again, one of his hands finding the back of her neck, the other cupping her face. She gave him more than he wanted  -breathy sighs, soft gasps, quiet moans- the kind of sounds Kyle never thought he’d hear from a girl outside of his own daydreams.

It wasn’t long before she switched to a faster rhythm, making Kyle gasp, rocking his hips alongside her. He couldn’t get enough of her reactions and knew it wouldn’t last much longer if she kept going like that. ‘’Shit..’’ He hissed when she hit just the right pace, pulling her tight against him when he knew he was gonna hit his limit. Only when she heard him groan and felt his grip tightening on her that she slowed down, catching her breath as she came to a stop. The room was quiet now, save for the faint sound of their breathing slowly returning to normal. The earlier rush of heat and urgency had given way to a heavy, satisfying calm that seemed to settle over everything like a warm blanket. The air carried a faint mix of warmth and sweat, but neither of them cared for the moment.

(Y/N) lay curled against Kyle’s chest, her hair spread over his skin in soft, messy strands. He had one arm draped around her shoulders, holding her close, while his other hand absentmindedly traced small, soothing circles across her back. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this relaxed, this content. His mind usually spun in a thousand directions, analyzing and overthinking every detail of his life, but right now, for the first time in what felt like forever, it was quiet.

For a long moment, he simply studied her. The way her chest rose and fell, the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed, the tiny smile that tugged at her lips like she was still caught in the afterglow. He almost didn’t want to blink, afraid he’d lose the image burned into his memory if he did.

“Hey…You okay?” Kyle finally asked, his voice low and rough from exertion.

She hummed softly in response, lifting her head slightly to meet his gaze. “More than okay,” she said with a grin, before dropping her head back down against him.

Her answer made him exhale a laugh- the kind of laugh that came from relief, from disbelief, from sheer happiness he wasn’t sure how to contain. He kissed the top of her head, lingering there, his lips pressed into her hair like he wanted the moment to last forever. ‘’Love you.’’ He finally muttered. ‘’Love you too.’’

When she eventually drifted off into a doze, Kyle stayed awake. His eyes wandered across the dim ceiling, but his thoughts were elsewhere, looping around everything they had just done. He couldn’t help the flicker of nervousness- questioning himself about what this meant, if they’d just changed everything, if she’d feel differently when the morning came. But then he looked down at her again, so at ease in his arms, his worries slowly started drifting away.

This story is divided in 3 parts for each character. 1- Introduction 2- Relationship Plot 3- Smut **You can also find it here : ** - AO3 - WattPad - QuoteV Link to Masterlist/ Story Index => HERE ********************* Summary : The reader makes a return to South Park after having to suddenly move out five years ago. Now 20 years old, she walks the same familiar streets, meeting friendly faces all over again. **********************

PROLOGUE

The air in the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado felt much colder than she’d remembered when she’d stepped out of that moving truck. As she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, rolling her suitcase behind her- it felt like just yesterday she had left. Five years gone and forgetting the cold biting her ass, the town looked almost exactly the same as how she’d left it back then. The same old yellow sign by the bus stop. The same Tweek Bros coffee house, with its crooked sign hanging above. The same blue sky stretching wide and unbothered above the snowy mountaintops. (Y/N)’s boots loudly crunched against the half-frozen snow. She stopped in her tracks in front of the new rental house, standing for too long of a moment as she took it all in while the movers brought her furniture inside. She’d pictured this return so many times while gone, yet, being here again right now still felt somewhat unreal. It felt like stepping into a snow globe she’d once shaken endlessly, only to find it still frozen mid-snowfall. South Park had a way of doing that, of resisting change. One proof of it was the infamous SodoSopa area - now in shambles by the McCormick’s house. It wasn’t like she’d left on bad terms the first time, really. When her parents announced they had to move, it had been rushed, messy, filled with the tearful goodbyes of friends who had promised her to keep in touch. The girls were especially heartbroken. They had called her everyday for weeks following her departure, texted for longer, but the distance ended up taking over in the end. Inside jokes became more foreign. New stories piled up without her, the kind you had to be there for to truly understand. Even the ridiculous, only-in-South-Park kind of disasters- somehow sounded fake when heard from the outside now.

MYSTERION AND INKJET (PT.2) FINALE ********************** Link to Masterlist/ Previous Chapters => HERE Timeskip oneshots : - Kyle - Kenny - Stan - Cartman - Clyde Extra: - Mysterion and Inkjet (Pt1) - Mysterion and Inkjet (Pt2) - FINALE <- (You Are Here)

Snow was falling again by the time they’d made it back to her place, the night pressing heavy against the frost-streaked windows. Inside, Mysterion pulled his hood down just far enough to look at the page in front of him, gloved hand outlining a rough map (Y/N) had drawn of the barn and its surroundings. His voice was low, deliberate as he explained the plan.

“Two on watch outside, probably more inside. We go in through the north side, take out the closest guard first, then move for the door.” He tapped the paper with a fingertip. “I’ll keep their attention. You slip in behind me and cut the hostages loose. If things go bad-”

“-you’ll get yourself killed,” (Y/N) finished, crossing her arms. Her tone wasn’t sarcastic, but it was sharp enough to cut through his momentum. 

His gaze flicked up, a faint spark of irritation under the mask. “It's enough of a distraction.”

“No,” she said flatly, leaning over the table to jab at the map. “The point is- to get them out alive without tipping the whole place into chaos. While the outside guards are out of sight, you go in first. You need to count on them being stupid enough to swarm you one at a time, so they don’t just shoot the hostages, or yourself. Then we both go in from different points. I make my entrance next-once the enemies are scattered enough not to attack us in groups. You don't want to lose me and I don’t want to lose you. I’ve got weapons, but we need to think about this.  ”

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise. The silence stretched just long enough for her to think he’d dismiss it. But then his eyes softened, just barely.

“…That’s… good,” he admitted. “Actually…. You’re right. That.. could work.” The praise was real this time.The two exchanged a knowing, satisfied smile. For an instant, they weren’t just partners anymore. They were friends, like what they’d always been. Supporting each other through thick and thin, despite just how shitty things could turn out.

The night of the rescue eventually rolled by, the moon pale and thin above them, outcast by dark clouds threatening to rain more snow any minute. The pair moved across the frozen ground in silence, their breath trailing like smoke before them. Every minute they wasted was another one of their friends sitting in that barn. They knew they couldn’t waste any more time. 

They crouched behind the tree line, waiting for the guards to break their rhythm. One wandered toward the outhouse in the corner of the property, the other drifting to the side door. Perfect.

Mysterion glanced at her, then reached out, catching her wrist just before she moved. His voice was low, almost softer than she’d ever heard it. “Be careful. I mean it. I don’t want you to-’’

She met his gaze, and despite the shadows, she could see the truth in it. Her smile was small but steady. “-I know. I care about you too, you know. Be careful.”

He didn’t say anything back and didn't need to. The look they shared was enough. They were smiling, confident. They were ready. 

He moved first, climbing up the wall of the barn like he’d been born to shadows, scaling the rotted boards to the roof. The barn was damp, smelling of hay and rusted metal. The captives were huddled in the far corner behind locked bars, their hands bound, lit only by the faint moonlight streaming through a broken loft window. Whispered complaints and shallow breaths filled the stale air, until the sound of boots hitting the loft above made every head snap upward. Mysterion’s dark silhouette dropped down into the barn with feline precision, landing silently in the dirt. He straightened up, the dark purple scarf and hood cutting a jagged shadow across his face.

Heidi yelped under her breath. “Oh my God, what the hell?!” 

Craig leaned back against the wall, wide-eyed. “Okay… that’s either here to kill us or save us. Fifty-fifty.”

“Jesus!” Clyde’s father barked, startled enough that he stumbled back. “Where the hell did you come from?”

‘’Are you one of them?!’’ Mysterion said nothing, simply scanning the group like he was counting heads.

Kyle narrowed his eyes at the figure. The boy’s presence had something about it that made the back of his neck prickle. “Wait… do I… do I know you?” The masked vigilante turned his head toward him, the faintest pause in his movement. It was gone in an instant. “No,” the voice came low, cold, distorted. “You don’t.”

But Kyle wasn’t convinced.

The vigilante ignored them, already moving toward the locked barn door, movements calculated and deliberate. But Kyle kept staring, mind turning over every scrap of memory. Something about the way that guy carried himself felt too familiar.

The sudden voices carried just far enough to attract attention. Mysterion had been mid-scan of the barn’s layout when the crunch of boots on the floorboards nearby caught his ear.

One of the guards, a broad, heavy man, pushed through the door from a side room. His narrowed eyes caught the shadow in the corner.

‘’Hey, what is -!’’’

He wasn’t given the time to finish his sentence. Mysterion was already moving, a black blur closing the space between them. A knee to the ribs, a sharp hook to the jaw and the man went down hard, the gun he was holding clattering uselessly against the wall.

The vigilante didn’t even look at the others, just jerked his chin toward the loft window. “Now, Inkjet!”

A sudden crack of shattering glass cut through the barn. The hostages flinched as shards rained down, scattering into the hay. A figure dropped into view with its hood drawn low, their gloves gripping the frame and boots hitting the dirt in a crouch. (Y/N) winced at the sting of glass scraping her arms, but shook it off, straightening up with deliberate calm.

Craig blinked like his brain had short-circuited. “No way. No way.”

Clyde’s jaw dropped. “Inkjet? That’s-”

“(Y/N)?” Kyle blurted, disbelief slicing through his voice. “What the hell ?! Her lips twitched into the ghost of a grin despite the tension. “Saving your asses,” she said, keeping her voice low but playful. “You’re gonna owe me big time for this one.”

"Fair enough” Craig muttered.

The moment didn’t last. The commotion of broken glass and raised voices drew the attention of the outside guards. Heavy steps pounded toward the barn, fast.

Mysterion’s head snapped toward the door. “Incoming!”

Three men stormed in, two heading straight for him, the third cutting toward Inkjet.

The barn erupted into chaos. Mysterion ducked a wild swing, slamming an elbow into one attacker’s ribs while parrying the second with brutal efficiency. Inkjet held off her own, but took a hard hit to the side, the blow forcing her backward. Pain bloomed in her ribs, but she stayed on her feet, until another shove sent her crashing to the floor, palms scraping in the dirt.

Her attacker moved in for the grab, but she rolled around, yanking her open backpack, fingers closing on the metal canister of pepper spray inside. With a snap of her thumb, a hiss of burning vapor erupted in the guard’s face. He staggered back, coughing and clawing at his eyes, before falling on his back when she kicked him in the chest for good measure. 

Inkjet used that chance to get herself back up, her breathing feeling sharp in her chest. Without hesitation, she joined toward Mysterion’s fight. One swift, low sweep of her leg and one of his opponents crashed onto his back in the hay.

A cheer broke out from the corner, Kyle, Craig, Clyde all watching with wide-eyed excitement. ‘’Kick their ass dude !!’’

The door crashed open again, the night spilling in like a black tide. More shapes surged forward, with voices barking orders. There were more than they thought. But Mysterion didn’t hesitate. He was already moving, catching one man with a kick to the knee that sent him crumpling, pivoting to drive a fist into another’s jaw. Inkjet was right behind, ducking low beneath a swing and shoving her shoulder into a man’s gut to knock him backward into a post.

The gun from earlier lay half-buried in the hay where the first guard had fallen. Mysterion’s gloved fingers closed around it just in time, when one of the newcomers had a pistol raised, safety already off. The vigilante didn’t flinch. In one sharp movement, he slammed the metal weapon against his attacker’s head, knocking him out. The two held their ground as best as they could, breathing heavy between two encounters. Three bodies groaned in the dirt, the rest slumped unconscious. That was when one of the remaining guards, an older man with sweat running down his face, spoke up between gasps.

“Wait! You… you don’t get it. We’re not the bad guys here. We’re just following orders!”

Inkjet froze for a second, narrowing her eyes. “Orders from who?”

The man’s lips clamped shut, jaw tight. His silence was answer enough. Before she could press him, movement stirred in the back shadows of the barn. A glint of metal behind her caught the light.

“(Y/N)!” Mysterion’s voice urgently called. “Duck!”

She turned, too slow. A guard she hadn’t seen, hidden in the gloom, had a revolver aimed square at her head. The shot rang out like a thunderclap.

She ducked. It wasn’t her who took the hit.

Standing before her, Mysterion jerked, a strangled sound escaping his throat. The gun slipped from his grip, clattering on the floor. He staggered backward, one hand clutching his side. Blood was already seeping between his fingers.

The hostages gasped, Clyde swore under his breath, Craig’s face went pale. Inkjet’s pulse roared in her ears.

“No!! No, no, no!” She was already moving, rage and panic twisting together as she barreled into the gunman behind her. Her fists landed with precision and fury, each blow sharper than the last until the man collapsed, dazed and groaning.

She dropped to her knees beside Mysterion. His breathing was shallow, ragged.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she said quickly, too quickly, her hands trembling as she pressed against the wound. “Just- just stay with me, okay? Don’t, don’t you dare-”

“It’s… not over… I’ll be back.” he rasped, the faintest ghost of a smirk on his blood-streaked lips.“

“Shut up,” she muttered, voice breaking. “...Come on, I don’t want to see you die.”

The barn’s heavy air shifted. A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the doorway.

“Well, well, well- Isn’t this touching.”

She turned sharply.

There, framed in the glow of a crooked security light, stood the last person she wanted to see. His silhouette was familiar, too familiar, his bloated smugness under a reworked, darker version of the infamous old Coon costume. The fabric was darker than before, with jagged stitching and sharper edges this time. 

But it wasn’t him talking. It was the voice coming from his hand. Who he always called Mitch Connor. ‘’You think I didn’t know you guys had little dates playing superheroes in secret? You think I wouldn’t see that? ….You’re welcome, by the way,” Mitch said, making Cartman step inside like he owned the place. “I suppose I was the one giving you a job to go on. You see all these people? They’re safe. From the psychos, from the aliens, from the homeless guy who yells at the library. You’re just here ruining all my hard work!”

Inkjet’s fists clenched, shouting at him. “Shut up Cartman! You locked them in a barn!” ‘’Come on, dude it’s not me! It’s Mitch Connor! Trust me!’’ 

The voice from his hand cut them off. “Details. I’m keeping them alive so I can… you know… operate without all the annoying rules. Be free and do whatever I want while all the normal people are gone. But if you wanna spin it, I’m the hero here. You’re lucky I gave you a mission to go on at all.”

Even Mysterion, bleeding to death in (Y/N)’s arms, managed a dark glare. “You are not a hero, Cartman.” ‘’Dude Mysterion, shut up ! I’m telling you, it’s not me, alright?!’’ ‘’Cut… cut the crap.’’

The air inside the wrecked warehouse was thick. Smoke rising from a burning generator started to sting (Y/N)’s eyes, the smell of scorched metal mixing with sweat and grime. Mysterion was now lying still in her arms, his body eerily quiet.

Cartman stood a few feet away facing her, one boot planted on the corner of an overturned crate, looking at her in fear? Confusion? She never knew if that Mitch Connor thing was him bullshitting or it was an actual entity living in the confines of his hand, and frankly, she didn’t want to waste time thinking about it. All of the guards were either groaning or unconscious around them. The only ones still on their feet were her, him, and the cluster of hostages locked behind.

“ So… ” Mitch said. “This is awkward. You, me, The Coon- and your little dead friend over there.” ‘’Shut up Cartman! Don’t give me that bullshit, okay? This is not funny, cut it out.’’ ‘’See, isn’t this tragic, Coon? You do one good deed for your community and this is the thanks I get ?’’ ‘’Quit it Connor! She didn’t deserve this! She’s my friend!’’ She couldn’t even tell if he was genuine or pretending. ‘’Eric, this is absurd! You killed him. You… killed Kenny. You killed your fucking friend! Quit playing around, okay?! I know you’re Mitch Connor, this isn’t funny!” ‘’It’s not me, Jesus Christ!’’

“Oh my God, are we really gonna play the victim card right now? He knew the risks. He chose to fight me. Technically-’’ The voice in his hand interrupted them.

“Technically what!?” she snapped, stepping up to Cartman with fury rising in her chest. “Technically, you locked innocent people in a cage for days so you could trade them for snacks and bribes? So you could do as you want in town without a voice of reason holding you back??”

From the cage, the hostages erupted.

 “Yeah, screw you, fatass!” “You’re sick!” “Kick his ass, (Y/N)!” ‘’You guys, IT’S NOT ME, OKAY?! IT’S FUCKING MITCH CONNOR. I’m innocent!’’

But Mitch cut him off. “Oh, right, because these guys were doing so great out there without me protecting you from, you know, the actual criminals,”

“You ARE the criminal, Cartman!” she barked, closing the distance another step. ‘’Go ahead, Coon. Try to argue. ‘’Mitch said. ‘’Tell them it’s not you. Who’s gonna believe you, anyway? Don't act like I’m the bad guy here. I created a controlled environment. Nobody got seriously hurt, okay except maybe Mysterion, but-” 

“Don’t you DARE say his name.” (Y/N)’s voice dropped to something quiet, threatening. “You think I won’t do it? You think I can’t fucking kick your ass right there and now!?”

Her friends roared in approval, rattling the cage. “Do it!” “Make him pay!”

Cartman held his hands out in a mocking but calm gesture, his voice cracking just enough to betray him. “Okay, okay, whoa, let’s not be irrational. I don’t need you to kick my ass, alright?’’ Her boots scraped against the dusty concrete as she closed the gap between them, each step deliberate, every breath pulled tight in her chest. Cartman stepped back, but his eyes twitched to the sides, hunting for some advantage in the debris-strewn space.

“Where’s.The.Key?” she asked, voice low enough to make the hostages lean forward to hear. “Tell me where it is. Now! Do NOT make me ask twice, Cartman!”

His hand lifted up, speaking as Mitch. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing. I won’t tell you. Not just because I don’t want to-” “-but because you and your little undead boyfriend here just ruined everything I had set up. I’m not gonna tell you.”

She quickly glanced at his hand, then up to him, convinced he’d been bullshitting all along. ‘’(Y/N), calm down, okay? Seriously, I didn’t do anything. I fucking swear!’’ “Oh, don’t give me that look,” ‘’Mitch’’ spoke up. “You know, ten years ago, back when you actually mattered, you might’ve pulled it off. Back when you played Coon and Friends with them, when you were actually a hero and part of a real league. But now? “Now you’re just dead weight. A liability. And guess what? Your partner? Yeah, he’s dead because of you.” ‘’Dude, Mitch, not cool, Jesus Christ’’ Cartman responded, offended. The words cut sharper than she wanted to admit, but the fury that followed was hotter than the sting. She stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close until she could feel his breath hitch. “Careful, Eric. Right now…. I could kill you if I really wanted to.” His eyes darted away, but his hand spoke for him. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t kill your friend, (Y/N). Think about all your good times together.”

Her grip tightened, knuckles pressing into the fabric. He’d seen her mad before, but not like this, not with that quiet, dangerous stillness under the rage.

“Beat his ass, (Y/N)!” Kyle shouted from the cage. “Do it!” Craig and Clyde added in turn. Then he shoved her back, not quite enough to knock her down, just enough to keep her at a distance. “You wouldn’t punch me, right? We’ve been friends for, what, a decade? You wouldn’t punch a friend. Come on, (Y/N).” ‘’Do it, girl. Punch your friend. You know deep down he’s the one who caused all this trouble, right?’’ Mitch chimed in. ‘’You shut that fucking thing up or I’ll do it for you.’’ She threatened.

Her gaze flicked sideways to Mysterion’s still body on the floor, a sharp ache catching in her throat.

‘’Mitch” noticed. “You think this is my fault? He chose to die for you. That’s his fault.’’ ‘’Dude, seriously, leave me alone!’’ Cartman told Mitch, staring at his hand.’’Innocents fucking died because of you!’’ Her fist connected before he could even think about it. The sound cracked in the stale air, his face snapping sideways under the blow. For a split second, he just stood there, eyes wide, processing the hit. ‘’....OW! That fucking hurt!’’ ‘’Hahahaha! You’re screwed, Coon! Hit him again!’’ Mitch laughed. His hand lunged at her. Cartman had size on his side, his bulk shoving her back toward the wall and she knew if he got her on the floor, his weight alone could crush the fight out of her. But despite his sharp claws, he - or Mitch, was sloppy, all about wild swings with no control. She ducked under his arm, pivoted, and drove a knee toward his midsection. He groaned, stumbling. She stayed on him, quick jabs and short strikes keeping him from regaining ground. His hands were up now, defensive, but his balance was already breaking. One last sweep of her leg caught his ankle, sending him sprawling to the floor, the thud ringing like a bell. 

‘’Are you done now ?! Are you gonna shut the fuck up, finally?!’’ She spat at him, his superhero cape sprawled on the floor along with his body. For a moment, he just stared at her from the ground, his mouth opening and closing like he might actually be out of words. But that was never going to happen. Eric Cartman- or Mitch Connor,  couldn’t think of surrendering without clawing for a way to drag someone down with him. She stepped closer, but before she could press him again, his hand shot out and grabbed her ankle. With a sharp yank, he swept her leg out from under her and she hit the ground hard beside him. The impact rattled her bones, air leaving her lungs in one rough burst. ‘’Quit it Connor, she’s got nothing to do with your evil plans!’’ ‘’Cut the crap, Cartman!’’

“(Y/N)!” Kyle’s voice cracked from the cage with concern. “Get up!” Clyde yelled.

Cartman groaned as he rolled onto his knees, one hand clutching at his sides where she’d landed a hit earlier. “You know what’s messed up?” his hand said, shaking from side to side for dramatic effect.  “The Coon trusted you. The Coon  thought you cared. I didn’t have to be like this, (Y/N). Fighting like animals over nothing.”

She stayed low, one palm flat on the ground as she steadied herself, watching his every movement.

“I mean, God, (Y/N),” Mitch continued. “You guys have been through soooo much together. All those years. He probably never thought you of all people would turn your back on him like this, New Girl.” Her breathing steadied as her feet found their grip on the floor again.She wasn’t buying a single word. Cartman’s speeches were weapons, sharpened and ready to cut, always about making someone doubt themselves, even in the middle of a fight. The fact that he’d been keeping the Mitch Connor’s schtick for so long was almost impressive.

Both were bearing the marks of the fight, Cartman’s lip split from an earlier blow, (Y/N)’s forearm scraped raw, each carrying the stubborn refusal to be the one who gave up first. Cartman had bulk and weight on his side, every shove of his arm bearing Mitch Connor carrying the force of a battering ram, but she had speed, darting in and out of his reach like a shadow with teeth. Her eyes locked on his and without warning, she stepped forward and swung, her palm connecting hard against his cheek with a sharp crack. His head snapped to the side, a red mark rising on his skin almost instantly.

“That was for hurting Kenny!”

The name hit the room like a dropped match. Behind the bars, the hostages went still. “Kenny?” Kyle’s voice wavered, realization dawning. 

‘’Oh my God.. that was Kenny??’’ Clyde swore under his breath. Craig’s expression tightened. Cartman’s head rolled back toward her, his mouth curling into something looking like worry. Without hesitation, his hand slapped her back, the sound ringing out in the barn’s stale air.

“That-” ‘’Mitch’’ snapped, “-was for ruining my plans, you bitch! You think I can’t fight a girl like you? Pathetic.”

Her hands shot out, seizing the front of Eric’s collar. She twisted hard, trying to spin his bulk toward the nearest wall, but he locked his stance, heels grinding into the wood, begging her to stop. His fist clenched at her own costume, their arms trembling with the strain, neither willing to break first. Then his eyes flicked to the side for just a second. She followed his glance, to her open backpack laying behind a few feet away, its contents spilled. Cartman/Mitch shoved harder, trying to angle her off-balance, but she leaned into it, teeth grit. She knew exactly what he was going for. They broke their grip at the same time, lunging for the bag. Their knees hit the floorboards in unison, hands colliding inside the heap of supplies, his fingers closing around the closest thing to him, the cold metal canister of pepper spray, hers wrapping around the grip of her airsoft pistol.

Cartman lifted the can, his thumb ready to depress the trigger. “Guess who’s got the upper hand now, bitch.” Mitch said.

Her eyes narrowed. The rubber bullet from the airsoft gun left the chamber with a snap, striking the can dead-center, surprising even herself. The impact jolted it from his grasp, sending it clattering across the floorboards and spinning out of reach.

(Y/N) rose slowly, her weight creaking against the warped floorboards, the gun steady in her hands. Its barrel followed Cartman’s every movement and her voice was low, stripped of anything but command.

“Give me the key. Now.”

Eric’s  eyes flicked to the weapon, then back to her, trying to read whether she’d actually pull the trigger or not. 

“Not gonna happen,” the voice in his hand said smugly. ‘’You don’t have the guts to shoot your friend!’’ ‘’Dude, shut the fuck up alright?! I don’t want to fucking die here!’’ Cartman spoke with his own voice, trying his best to make Mitch Connor disappear. 

The warning shot hit the wall inches from his head, rubber pellet bouncing off the dusty wood. Eric flinched.

Her stance didn’t falter. “Key.”

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, the hand with Mitch reached down, digging into Cartman’s pockets. 

He tossed it toward her, the metal key landing with a sharp clang, sliding across the floor.

(Y/N) stepped forward, still aiming, watching him like a hawk. Her knees bent as she crouched, fingers closing around the key, keeping her eye on him.

Without another word, Eric bolted, stuck with ‘’Mitch Connor’’ and refusing to deal with the aftermath of freed hostages taking it out on him. Boots pounding the wood, he shoved open the barn door. 

The door slammed behind him, the sound rolling through the barn like distant thunder.

Silence finally fell, heavy and stale. (Y/N) let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her grip on the gun loosened, the weapon suddenly feeling heavier. She tossed it away. She didn’t feel comfortable holding it anyway. 

She walked down the aisle of unconscious guards, past the shadow of blood pooling around Mysterion’s still form. Her fingers brushed the key in her palm and she pushed forward to the barred pen at the back. The lock turned with a metallic groan, the door swinging open on reluctant hinges.

The captives spilled out, some clapping her on the shoulder, others muttering quick thanks as they passed by her with pale faces and eyes wide from days in confinement. They all filed out into the night, free at last.

But three figures lingered. Kyle. Craig. Clyde.

“Are…You okay?” The first one asked, his voice gentle with concern.

“We can walk you home, you know.”

“Yeah… you don’t have to go alone after-” Clyde stopped himself.

(Y/N) only nodded, her eyes still drawn back toward the barn’s center. Mysterion lying where he had fallen, pale under the dim light filtering through the cracked boards.

She turned away at last, the key still clutched in her fist, following her friends out into the cool night air, alive, but carrying the weight of what was left behind.

******* The walk home was a blur. The barn’s dusty air still clung to her clothes, the faint sting of blood and hay lingering in her nose. Her hands trembled, not from the cold, but from the aftershock, the drop in adrenaline when all that fury and survival instinct finally bled away.

Her house was dark when her friends finally dropped her off, every window black. She slipped her key into the front door lock and eased it open, cringing at every creak in the hinges. The silence was suffocating, her own breath too loud. Her parents were still asleep. Good. She didn’t want to explain… not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Walking up the stairs, step by step, she finally reached her room, closing the door behind her without a sound. For a second, she just stood there in the dark, staring at the outline of her bed. She could crash, right there, let the exhaustion swallow her whole. But something in her chest refused to let her stop just yet.

She turned to her desk, flicking on the small lamp. A pale yellow light spread over the clutter-  pencils scattered like fallen twigs, scraps of paper with half-finished sketches.Tucked in the corner was a stack of old sketchbooks bound in worn cardboard covers. She pulled the top one free, the edges soft from years of use- and flipped through the pages.

Page after page of uneven lines, colored pencil shading, and childlike handwriting spilled out from her past. There it was, an adventure from ten years ago. Coon and Friends vs. the Brainwashing Smoothie Corporation. Every panel a frozen memory: the team infiltrating the smoothie factory, the ridiculous mind-control drinks, the moment Mysterion sacrificed himself, the explosion drawn in overdramatic bursts of orange and red.

She traced the pencil line of his masked face with her thumb. Kenny always said no one remembered when he died, that life just went on, like it hadn’t happened. But she remembered. She had proof in graphite and crayon, sealed between cheap paper. She was nine at the time. 

Her fingers brushed the sweat and dirt from her forehead, smearing a faint streak along her temple. Without thinking, she grabbed a pencil and turned to a blank page. The strokes came fast, heavy with urgency. The barn’s warped beams, the line of hostages, Mysterion’s last stand. Cartman pretending to be controlled by Mitch Connor mid-fight. She drew the moment the rubber bullet hit the pepper spray, the key landing in her hand. How she’d liberated her friends.

It was morbid. Twisted, even. But it was necessary. If no one else remembered, she would. She’d make sure of it.

By the time she finished, her hands were smudged with pencil stains, her eyelids sinking. She left the sketchbook open on the desk, letting the final scene breathe in the lamplight. The pencil rolled to the floor, forgotten.

Her movements were clumsy as she peeled off her dirt-stained clothes and tugged on a loose shirt. She didn’t bother with the sheets that night, just collapsed onto the mattress, the smell of dust and paper still in her nose.

Her eyes shut, and sleep swallowed her whole before she could think about what tomorrow would bring.

******** The sun climbed high the next morning, slicing through the blinds in thin, sharp lines that cut across (Y/N)’s cluttered desk. The day had moved on without her. Kyle, Craig, and Clyde had checked in more than once with concerned texts, calls, even a few attempts at knocking on her door, but she didn’t answer. Not yet. She couldn’t bring herself to.

Instead, she buried herself in her sketches, the pages a chaotic swirl of pencil strokes. Each line she’d hurriedly drawn the night before got scrapped, redrawn and cleaned up with painstaking care, her hands still slightly trembling. Sometimes she would pause as she paced around the small room, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. Her mind wandered, always drifting back to Mysterion.

He’d been different lately, like she’d unlocked a hidden layer beneath the familiar friend she thought she knew. The dark, thick shell he’d wrapped himself in, that brooding intensity he’d worn like armor, it wasn’t just a mask anymore. Her presence had chipped at it, exposing the humanity inside, the fragile person who’d spent years carrying too much pain alone. She had been breaking through the rough edges and maybe, just maybe, he had started to believe he could be more than the shadow he’d cast.

As the evening crept in and the sun left place for the darkness outside, sleep eluded her. (Y/N) tossed and turned, the mattress creaking beneath her restless weight. The silence of the night pressed on her, thick with worry. Kenny, Mysterion, he was dead. But what if he wasn’t? 

Her breaths quickened with panic, heart hammering against ribs like a trapped bird. Just as her thoughts threatened to drown her, she tried to calm down and a stillness began to settle, her eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion.

Later, just as she was dozing off, there was a sound. Faint at first, like a whisper in the wind. Then closer. The slow, deliberate creak of a window sliding open.

She sat upright in a bolt, breath caught.

A shadow slipped through the frame, the first leg landing softly on the dresser, then the second before he landed.

It was him.

Before he could say a word or even rise fully to his feet, (Y/N) pushed the covers off of her and rushed to him. Her arms wrapped tight around the dark figure, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

“It’s you.” she whispered, her voice thick with relief..

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, there was only the warmth of the moment, fragile and fierce.

Mysterion froze, caught off guard. He’d crept in with the quiet precision of someone used to moving unseen, expecting the stillness of her sleeping form. Instead, her arms were suddenly around him, tight, urgent, as if letting go would mean for him to disappear again.

For a brief instant, he just stood there, eyes wide beneath the mask. He could feel the tremor in her hold, the warmth of her relief. Cautiously, his own arms came up to return the embrace, matching her grip and holding her like it just hit him how close they’d both come to losing everything. She was safe. She was here. The weight that had been pressing on him since the mission finally loosened, just enough for him to breathe deeply.

She didn’t let go just yet. The first thing out of her mouth, half a whisper, half a laugh was. “…I punched Eric Cartman.”

He blinked, the words almost absurd against the raw edge of the embrace. Pulling back just enough to look at her, he kept his hands on her shoulders, his expression surprised. “…What?”

Her explanation tumbled out in low, rapid bursts- the kidnapping, the barn, the way Cartman/Mitch Connor had been behind it all, the fight that ended with him running off like a coward. Mysterion listened without interrupting, though the faint glint in his eyes betrayed his surprise. She’d gone through most of that alone.

When she finally paused, she added softly, “You were a good teacher. That’s why I’m still alive. We’re both still here.”

The air between them grew heavier, the silence thick with unspoken feelings. His gaze flicked past her, drawn to the desk. Her sketchbook had been left open, pages illuminated by the faint spill of the moonlight outside.

He stepped closer, slowly letting go of her and she followed his eyes, realizing too late which page it was open on. Her breath caught. The drawing was of him in his last moments, frozen in graphite lines, the stance, the fight, the way it ended.

Her chest tightened. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, his eyes widened, not with anger, but with sudden clarity.

“You… ?” His voice was quiet, almost careful. He didn’t need to finish his sentence. She knew what he meant.  The question hung there, heavier than anything else he’d said all night.

Her voice was quiet, like confessing something she’d carried for too long. “Yeah… I remember. Not…. all the time. But sometimes.” She glanced at the drawing again, the corner of her mouth twitching like she might smile, but it didn’t quite make it there.

“Like the first time I drew you, when we were nine. The smoothie shop. You blew it up… and yourself with it. And then… last night.”

She exhaled, looking away. “It’s… horrific every time. But when I put it on paper, it sticks. I can’t let myself forget. It’s a… necessary evil, I guess. My way of honoring my closest friend whenever he-” She didn’t finish. The word ‘’dies’’ didn’t have to be said out loud.

Mysterion’s gaze dropped to the floor. His hood was still hiding most of his face, but the small flicker of movement in his jaw betrayed him. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

His voice was low, almost rough. “Stan, Kyle… Cartman… they just- they never…” He stopped himself, but the meaning was clear. They’d never even thought of remembering him. Not like this.

Her hand found his, fingers curling gently around his gloved palm. “Whether you’re Kenny or Mysterion… you’re still you. The same person who’s been there for me through all my hardships. You’ve always stuck by me. You’ve saved my life more than once.” Her thumb brushed over his knuckles. “It means a lot to me. I can’t let myself forget every time.”

His fingers closed around hers, firm, steady, like he was holding on to something he wasn’t willing to lose.

 “…You… you mean a lot to me too.”

That was enough to draw a smile from her, warm and unguarded. She pulled him in again, arms wrapping around him until she felt his shoulders ease just slightly under her touch. When she finally drew back, her hands didn’t leave him, they went to the edge of his hood, carefully tugging it down.

The fabric fell away to reveal the mess of Kenny’s blonde hair beneath, tousled and stubborn. She brushed a few strands from his forehead, the gesture slow, tender, almost. Relief softened her features in a way words couldn’t match.

They lingered there a minute, both looking at each other like neither was quite ready to blink.

Then, to her surprise, his mouth twitched. Not into the practiced, stoic half-smile of Mysterion, but into something warmer, almost cracking into a laugh. “...I can’t believe you kicked Cartman’s ass”, he said, shaking his head like it was the best thing he’d heard all week. “Kinda makes me wish he’d try to pull some crap again, just so I could see it.”

A snort escaped her before she could stop it, the tension slipping from her shoulders. For the first time in days, the air between them wasn’t heavy. Just filled with relief.

His gaze locked onto hers again. Not the usual sharp, assessing stare, but the softer, quieter one Kenny always had, like he was really seeing through her. He didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped closer, one hand sliding up to the back of her head, holding her like she might vanish if he let go.

She melted into it instantly, her own arms clutching on his cape, holding on just as tight. When they finally broke apart enough to gaze at each other,  it wasn’t for long. He cupped her face with both his hands and urgently pressed his lips on hers.

She didn’t freeze. Didn’t think. She just kissed back with the same hunger, with ten years’ worth of unsaid things crashing right into that moment. Relief, love, pride, all tangled together.

It wasn’t gentle. Mysterion pushed her until her back met the wall, his hands gripping her waist like he was afraid she’d slip away. Her arms hooked around his shoulders, pulling him closer. His touch was exploratory, almost desperate, sliding to places it had never been before as they stumbled together toward the bed.

The mattress let out a soft thud as they crashed down together, his weight pressing into her in a way that was more grounding than crushing. From beneath him, she looked up, their faces inches apart, eyes locked like they were still trying to read each other after all this time. A faint smirk curved her lips.

"You told me you weren’t doing that anymore," she teased between breaths. "Crashing through my window in the middle of the night." Mysterion’s eyes softened, the edges of his mouth twitching upward into something that was half amusement, half relief. A quiet laugh escaped him in response. 

“Yeah well… For tonight… it was worth it.”

Her fingers found the back of his head, tangling in his messy blonde hair, pulling him down for another kiss, deeper this time. Like tasting all the words they never got to say out loud. When she eventually broke away, her forehead rested against his.

“I was so scared to lose you for good.” She whispered, barely audible. ‘’….I-I love you, Kenny.”

It was almost unfair, the way she said it first.  He’d been carrying that sentence around in his pocket for years, but there it was, her feelings out in the open. Reciprocated. 

“Been waiting for fucking ages to hear that.” Her hands moved slowly, almost reverently, to the fabric draped on his shoulders, tugging his cape free. It slid to the floor in a soft fall. His gloves came next, then the utility belt, then the suit itself , each piece stripped away like taking off the layers of armor he’d built between him and Mysterion over the years. Beneath all of it, he was in a simple, plain t-shirt and underwear, nothing left from his vigilante persona except the mask.

She hesitated for a second before reaching for it, her fingertips brushing the edge. She peeled it away gently, pulling on the elastic tucked in his hair, discarding it as well. There he was, just Kenny, plain as day. No shadows, no hood, no alter ego. Just him.

The way he looked at her made her chest ache, as if he was memorizing this moment in case it was the last. His fingers boldly slid under her shirt, waiting a second to see if she’d react or change her mind. But she didn’t.

The piece of fabric joined the rest of his gear on the floor, landing beside his cape. She sucked in a small breath at the sudden cool air on her skin, the heat of his body a stark contrast. For an instant, she almost flinched under his gaze, but Kenny’s hands were already on her again, rough, eager, the kind of touch that showed he’d been thinking about this for far too long.

“Fair is fair. We’re even now.” he murmured with a smirk that was all Kenny, his thumbs brushing just under the line of her ribs.

It didn’t take long for the space between them to dissolve. The next kiss was deeper, heavier, as he pressed her body into hers down against the mattress. Her hands found their way in his hair again, pulling him closer, while the rest of their clothes slipped away in the heat of it all. Each new inch of skin made him hungrier, his self-control stretching thin with every passing second. 

Kenny tried to force himself to slow down, to savor the moment, but the years of unspoken needs were a difficult thing to tame. Every touch was a little too tight, every kiss a little too urgent as the sounds of their breathing filled the small room. His forehead rested against hers for a moment, eyes closed, fighting the urge to just lose himself completely right there.

His hands roamed around like he was memorizing her, fingertips skimming over skin he’d only ever thought about until today. She hooked her legs around his hips, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a scrap of space left between them.

“...You’ve been thinking about this, huh?” she murmured against his lips, half-teasing, half-breathless.

“Longer than you could imagine,” he shot back with a grin, his words broken by another hungry kiss.

Her nails dragged lightly down his back, making him shiver. He leaned into it, lips moving from her mouth to her jaw, down her neck, lingering like he had all the time in the world, though the way his hands gripped her hips betrayed just how badly he wanted to rush things. He bit the flesh softly, then harder, leaving warm, tingling spots in his wake, little marks that made her pulse race. She tilted her head back, giving him more space and the sound she made seemed to pull a low groan from him. Sounds he had ever only imagined in his wildest, horny teenage dreams.

She felt the edge of his eagerness in every movement, rougher than he probably intended, but she didn’t mind. She wanted him just as badly. 

His fingers trailed slowly against her collarbone, down to her stomach and hips. She hissed as he got closer to her more bare, intimate parts, which got a playful little chuckle out of him. 

“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”

She let out a soft laugh, poorly covering her face with her hands in response. Kenny always flirted with her, most times playful, sometimes half-serious. After such a long friendship, they had been acting more like roommates than partners. But this right there ? It was sealing the deal - they weren’t JUST friends, or crime-fighting partners. Not anymore.

Kenny leaned down to her chest, his hand still hovering over where he’d last teased her. He breathed hard against her body, suppressing the need to simply take her, right here, right now.

One finger slipped in, where she was already wet. Then a second one, in a repeated back and forth motion. A small moan escaped her lips, which he couldn’t get enough of, but he used his available hand to cover her mouth. Her parents were still sleeping, after all. 

Her breathing matched his- heavy, needy, with warmth slowly building off their bodies. He could feel the girl squirming under him, turning him on like crazy.

Kenny backed away, just enough to look at her face, both digits wet from her entrance. 

“You make me act like a fucking animal, you know ?”

He grabbed his member, poking at her entrance, then leaned down her, pushing it inch by inch, the two of them groaning in unison. 

At first, he was trying his best to be gentle. To make sure she wasn’t hurting. But he quickly snapped, wanting to fill her as much as possible. In between the quiet moans she’s tried to hide and his heavy panting, it shifted to something more rough, more needy. It didn’t take time for him to pick up speed, his hold on her still tight as could be. Then, with a sudden shift, she pushed against his shoulder and rolled them over, straddling him. The move caught him off guard, his eyes widening as he landed flat on his back. His gaze swept over her, slow, hungry. ‘’Whoa. I like this view.’’ 

Her lips curved into a knowing smile and she leaned down until their foreheads nearly touched. His hands slid to her waist, thumbs pressing into her skin, pulling her closer.

‘’I at least owe you this for saving my life, you know?’’ ‘’And because you love me, right? She laughed softly. ‘’Yeah.’’ They didn’t speak much after that, not with words.

*************** (Y/N) stirred before the sunlight had fully claimed her room. It was the warmth at her back that kept her still at first, solid and steady. Kenny’s arm was looped securely around her waist, his palm resting against her stomach like it had been molded there overnight.

His breathing was slow, he was still deep in slumber and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest pressed against her. It took her a moment to register that she wasn’t just warm from the blankets, she was warm from him. Kenny. In her bed. Still here.

Her hair was a tangled mess against the pillow and from what she could feel of him-his chest against her back, the way his hair tickled her shoulder, he wasn’t in much better shape. She let herself lie there for another minute,feeling his grip twitch faintly like he was unconsciously making sure she didn’t move away.

Finally, she shifted slowly, careful not to wake him too abruptly, until she was facing him.

His face looked calm, soft. Like nothing could reach him right now. The usual sharp smirk and cocky glint was nowhere to be found. There was just peace. His hair, usually tucked under his hood, was a chaotic mess of blonde strands, some falling over his eyes. She reached up and brushed a few away, fingertips lingering longer than she’d meant to. She simply took in the sight for an instant. Kenny, Mysterion, every version of him she’d known. 

The boy who had always been in her life, in one way or another.

Her chest tightened with the realization that things had shifted. They couldn’t go back now.

His eyelids fluttered, and after a moment, his blue eyes cracked open, squinting against the light.

“Mornin’. “Guessin’ from how sore I am right now… last night actually happened, huh?”

She snorted, trying to stifle a laugh, but it broke through anyway. “Oh, it happened.”

“Good,” he said, eyes raking over her face in that shameless Kenny way. “’Cause if that had been a dream, I’d be real pissed.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously lucky,” he shot back, his grin widening as he pulled her closer by the waist. “Seriously though… you’re not freakin’ out or anything, right?”

Her laughter softened into something gentler as she shook her head. “No, Kenny. I’m not.”

“Good. He pressed his forehead against hers, just holding her there for a long moment before murmuring. “Guess that makes you mine now.”