Hi Strawberry! I love your South Park fics, and if you don't mind I have a request. Could you please do a fic of Lee Stan/Ler Kyle? If you can't or don't want to I completely understand. Keep up the amazing work! :) ❤🍓❤
hi!!!!! ive been very obsessed with lee stan recently!! also- today is stan's BIRTHDAY! 🥹 HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAN! in this fic kyle and stan are seniors in high school! i love stan and he is (not so secretly) super sappy! expect a lot of lee stan coming- because i think he is a very underrated lee!!!! im so so so sorry it took SO long for me to get to this ask- i hope the wait was worth it!!! 🥹🥹
— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️
Right Next To Me..
Lee Stan / Ler Kyle
Word Count: 5,736
After having this nagging feeling that Stan has been abnormally distant; despite living right next door and always being inseparable from eachother, Kyle decides to confront his Super Best Friend and learns that some things grow better together.
Kyle couldn’t believe he was thinking this.
He missed his Super Best Friend.
The sentiment seemed normal enough. You wouldn’t call someone your Super Best Friend if you didn’t enjoy the time you spent together. Obviously Kyle cared for Stan deeply, hence the coveted title of their friendship; but the oddity of the thought that was currently playing conductor in Kyle’s little mind train wasn’t the fact that he hated Stan or anything.
It just confused him, since he couldn’t wrap his head around how he could possibly miss someone who lives within a thirty second walking distance.
Their houses were literally right next door to each other. Their desks at school were right next to each other. Hell, their “assigned” seats at lunch (not that the two were attending some authoritative, prison-like hell hole or anything- they had just been sitting in the same seating arrangement for the past ten years, that changing it at this point felt like a crime.) were right next to each other too. You’d think with someone being so close, it’d be absolutely impossible to miss them.
Yet, here Kyle was.
Somehow, despite how incredibly close they were locationally and emotionally, Kyle couldn’t help but feel like Stan was being…kinda distant.
It wasn’t like Stan was ignoring him or anything, but Kyle could feel that, at the very least, Stan was limiting how long they interacted. Their conversations felt shorter. Stan wouldn’t do the stupidly funny thing he always did in Chemistry: make stupid faces at him during class, trying to get Kyle in trouble like the asshat he was. It was little things like that. Kyle hated to say it, but he felt like Stan was distancing himself on purpose.
Kyle didn’t understand. Sure, one could make the argument that the two were outgrowing each other- but Kyle couldn’t, and honestly wouldn’t, accept that- there was no way their friendship had survived until their senior year of high school just for it to fizzle out. That just wasn’t possible. Kyle wasn’t the type to let things go without answers, a trait that he’d never admit he inherited from his mom. And as he sat there in his bed, staring at the window into his Super Best Friend’s one, he’d remind himself of the times where Stan would somehow manage to climb up Kyle’s wall and into his window; despite the fact that Kyle would scold him through cackles about how he could’ve just gone through the front door.
Now, Kyle wasn’t going to go that far- surprisingly Stan was more of the theatrical one, and Kyle really didn’t have the energy through all the Midterms, and papers, and group PowerPoints to be able to hoist himself up Stan’s wall and Flynn Rider his ass all the way to Stan’s window. But, he wasn’t going to wait for Stan to come to him and actually express what was happening- because Kyle had a very strong feeling that day would never come. So, with a need for answers, Kyle threw his shoes on- and walked those thirty seconds over to Stan’s house.
The conversation, if you could even call it that, with Stan’s mom was really short. Her face lit up the moment the door swung open, and besides the hello, her only words to him were “Stanley’s upstairs in his room!”
Kyle had to admit, he was actually kinda shocked walking up those stairs. He wasn’t greeted with the blaring of Nirvana or The Brobecks coming from Stan’s room. That was shocking. That meant one of two things, Kyle knew. Either Stan was taking a nap, which Kyle, obviously, was really praying wasn’t the case because talking to him would be literally impossible; or he was ruining his eardrums by blasting music into his ears. Kyle had a hunch it was the latter option.
Of course, a possible third option danced in his mind: that being Stan simply wasn’t home, but Kyle seriously doubted that. First of all, his car was still parked in the driveway- and Stan treated his little red “Terrance” SUV like it was the second coming of the lord. Kyle couldn’t imagine a world where Stan would walk anywhere anymore. Secondly, Kyle was pretty sure Stan was bedrotting right now; which was another reason he wanted to talk to him. Kyle knew Stan’s mental health fluctuated more than that one rollercoaster they rode at Cartman’s stupid theme park when they were kids. Kyle figured checking in wouldn’t hurt.
Kyle would knock, since he wasn’t raised in a barn, and after a few minutes of no answer- Kyle would let himself in.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, Kyle was right. Stan was laying in bed, almost-sorta starfishing as he stared up at the ceiling; phone on his lap, headphones in his ears, and eyes glued to literally nothing. Kyle knew Stan well enough to know that this meant Stan was deep in thought; which, Kyle hated to admit, was normally not a good thing.
Kyle didn’t want to scare the shit out of him, but at the same time, Stan genuinely didn’t seem to realize he was even alive right now. The lights were off, but the room was still nicely lit from the sunshine beaming through the window. South Park could be a real pain in the ass, but the sun was always beautiful. Kyle hoped that this meant turning on the lights wouldn’t scare the ever-loving-bejusus out of him.
Kyle was very wrong.
Stan would shoot up in his bed, a yelp escaping him as his hand flew to his mouth; an audible slapping sound ringing throughout his bedroom. An airpod would fly across the room, conveniently landing at Kyle’s feet. Stan would sputter, eyes adjusting to the newfound light and other person in his room. Kyle could only describe the look Stan was giving him as one that he’d might give if Kyle had poured water on him, and Kyle couldn’t tell if he should laugh like an asshole or feel genuinely bad.
“You fucking- dickwad!” Stan’s words were very hushed compared to the yelp that had flown out of his mouth a few seconds ago, the very kind “dickwad” barely connecting with the two words that came before it. “You scared the shit out of me, dude! I could’ve broken my phone!” He’d say, in a tone that Kyle had a feeling came out way whiner than Stan intended it to. Stan would even gesture to the phone that was glued to his balled fist, as if Stan had even the slightest doubt that Kyle would know what that foreign word “phone” meant. As if Kyle didn’t have one of his own.
“Sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you,” Kyle would apologize, genuinely. He’d crouch down to pick up the runaway left airpod, just for safe measures. He wouldn’t want to step on it and have Stan totally hate him for the next week and a half. “I just wanted to stop by and-”
“Oh shit, did we have plans today? Kyle I’m so fucking sorry, man-” Stan would, somehow, very kindly interrupt. Normally Kyle hated being interjected, but this interjection confused him more than anything. “Dude, I’m sorry- just give me like…five minutes. No. Not even five. Like- three. Three minutes. My head’s been fucking everywhere- I’m sorry, Kyle-”
An audible, “Huh?” would escape Kyle as Stan threw himself out of bed and sped over to his closet. He had to give credit where credit was due, Stan was making pretty good time for the hypothetical plan that the two didn’t even have today. “No, no- Stan you don’t have to- dude, we don’t have plans or anything...” Kyle would attempt to explain, and those words seemed to semi-get-through to Stan, since he’d put the shirt he was holding back in the closet. Kyle recognized the look of confusion on Stan’s face before the words even came out of his mouth. Kyle would speak before Stan could.
“What? I can’t come visit my Super Best Friend?” Kyle would ask in a very genuine tone, so he didn’t really appreciate the chortle that would come out of Stan.
“You missed me that bad?” Stan would tease, clearing not buying whatever Kyle was hypothetically selling. “Uh-oh…I don’t want to tell Wendy she’s got competition…” Stan would pucker his lips at Kyle before laughing again, (a sound that Kyle never realized he missed all that much until now) sitting back down on his bed.
“Well…I..” Kyle fought the urge to get red, because the first part was actually true. But a part of him knew that…that wasn’t a bad thing. If he wanted Stan to be transparent the transparency would have to start with him. So, he’d concede. “Actually…yeah, Stan.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Kyle didn’t know why the hell his voice sounded the way that it did. His voice was soft, fragile, and most of all…concerned. Kyle didn’t mean for that to come out like that- at least not at that very moment.
Stan would catch it immediately. “Wait- really?” The sincerity would match Kyle’s in an instant. “Oh fuck- are you okay? What happened, man?” Stan would gently ask, patting the spot next to where he was currently sitting with a welcoming smile.
As bad as Kyle felt for making Stan worry, he had to admit it was kind of sweet how quickly Stan would drop the teasing. “I’m okay, Stan…I just…” Kyle would take Stan’s silent invitation to sit down next to him on the bed. Stan would hold out his hand and Kyle would simultaneously put the AirPod in it. Stan would quickly and quietly put it back in its case, along with the one that managed to stay in his ear.
Stan wouldn’t say anything; he’d just stare at Kyle with his big, expecting eyes. Kyle hated to say, that made him a little nervous. He’d try to search for the right words…but when that didn’t work, he’d just say the first thing that came to his mind.
“I’m worried about you, Stan.”
“Me?” A laugh would infest that word, but Stan’s tone would quickly go back to the kindhearted way it was before. “Kyle…I’m fine, dude. You don’t need to worry about me, man..”
Stan’s words were so sweet, but they pissed Kyle off so bad. He couldn’t help it- he couldn’t stop the words from coming. “But I do need to worry about you, Stan. When we were kids I promised you I wouldn’t let you suffer in silence when you’re upset-” Kyle’s ramble would stop for no one or nothing, not even Stan’s very confused “suffer?” that would come out as soon as Kyle said that word.
“And I can’t help but feel like something's upsetting you- and I don’t like not knowing what that is- because at least if I know what it is, I can do something about it, you know? At least if I know what it is, I know it isn’t me- and it sucks not knowing if I did something to piss you off. Because if I did- obviously I’d want to fix it, Stan.” Stan would stop the attempt of interjecting, now just staring at Kyle as Kyle continued.
“I want us to be able to talk about when things bother us. I mean-it sucked when you lived on that stupid farm with your dad- but you’re back, and you’ve been back, so I’m sorry, Stan- you’re within range for me to worry about you. That’s just the price you pay for living right next to me.” The apology was not at all genuine, it was extremely sarcastic, but Kyle knew Stan had come to expect that. Or, at least, Kyle thought Stan knew that. Kyle wasn’t expecting the somber look on Stan’s face. Kyle knew that he must’ve said something that deeply resonated with him, or worse, really called him out without Kyle intending it to.
Kyle would run back the monologue in his head. Why was Stan looking at him like that? Kyle couldn’t help but panic a little. Stan looked kind of like a kicked puppy- and from Kyle’s point of view, he didn’t say anything to warrant that look. If anything- that whole speechlet was to prevent that look.
“...What happens when I’m not “in range”, Kyle?”
The silence in the room was deafening. Even more deafening than “Better Than Me” by the Brobecks probably was to Stan’s ears a few minutes ago. Kyle really didn’t think that little jokey, sarcastic comment would be the point Stan got out of the whole spiel, but he’d bite.
“What do you mean?” He’d quietly ask.
“I can’t stop thinking about it, Kyle. I just- man, it fucking blows. I didn’t think it would hit me yet- I thought I’d have more time..”
“What?” Kyle would normally like to brag about how well he could read Stan’s mind- but he was stumped. The vague, ominous “it” wasn’t ringing any bells to him- and it didn’t help that Stan was looking at him like it should.
Stan would turn his face to look at his closet, or…what Kyle assumed was just Stan’s way of looking away from him. “I’m not an idiot, Kyle. I mean…shit, I always knew that you were…you know.”
“I really don’t.” Kyle would mutter, trying not to turn Stan off from the vulnerability train he was on. Stan would continue to keep his face turned anywhere but in Kyle’s direction, and Kyle couldn’t but worry a little about why Stan was trying to hide so much. He wouldn’t say much, but he’d keep an eye out.
“I always knew you were going to get out of here, Kyle.”
Kyle didn’t understand why those words gave him chills. He wouldn’t have time to unpack that as Stan continued.
“I mean…shit, dude. I always knew you were going to get into some really impressive ivy league school or some shit- and you were going to become…something. Become someone- someone who’s really successful…and probably makes a lot of money.” Kyle assumed that was a genuine attempt at a joke, but Stan seemed to abandon it mid-delivery. “And any day now you’re going to get a letter back from Yale, or Brown, or some really prestigious college- and everyone is going to be so fucking thrilled for you. Which, yeah, they should be. I’ll be thrilled too. But…I’ll also be really pissed off.”
Kyle’s ears would perk up at the sound of Stan’s voice cracking as he spoke. The understanding of what was really happening right now hit Kyle far too quickly. He’d rush to put his hand on Stan’s shoulder, silently supporting him before he shut down. Kyle could tell Stan had been thinking about this for a while, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get it out.
“...I’ll be really pissed off- ‘cuz- even though I’ll be really happy for you…fuck, I’ll be so fucking mad that you’re moving thirty hours away from me-” Stan would take a hand and swipe at his cheek a bit too aggressively. He’d still refuse to look at Kyle, but Kyle wouldn’t comment on that yet. “And then I’ll feel like a total douchebag for making it all about me- b-because- because I know I should be happy that you’re doing something that I know I never could- but I’ll just hate the f-fact that I know you’re going to do so many sick things without me- and you’re going to meet p-people who are just as smart as you are- so when you come back to South Park…”
He’d stop speaking for only a moment, his breath shaky. Stan’s nails would dig into his knees, with the occasional break to beat the tears off his own face. God, Kyle really couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Stan cry. He hadn’t missed the feeling.
“If you come back to South Park..”
Seeing Stan cry always made Kyle’s breath hitch. He’d get a pit in his stomach. He’d feel like now he needed to cry too, just to feel united in some way. But all Kyle could do was stay silent as Stan finally looked at him. Kyle suddenly wished he didn’t.
“You’d realize that you were always too smart for this stupid mountain town.”
Stan’s cheeks were stained with tears. His eyes were glossy, tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at Kyle.
“You’d realize that you were always too smart for-”
“No.”
Kyle would firmly interrupt, shaking his head. “I’m not even going to let you say it, Stan. That’s not true.” Kyle couldn’t take it. A part of him felt like he should let Stan get the full vent out; lord knows Stan would, and did, for him all the time- but Kyle couldn’t stand hearing Stan, genuinely the coolest person he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, saying all these horrible, and blatantly untrue, things about himself. “Are you hearing me?” Kyle would grip Stan’s arms, turning him to look at him.
“That’s not true at all. No one at college- no one I ever meet is going to…I don’t know- hypnotize me into thinking you aren’t my favorite person.” Kyle would say with his usual conviction, not an ounce of doubt in his words.
“…I’m your favorite person?” Stan would ask, voice cracking yet again. He’d stare at Kyle with the look of wonder; and Kyle couldn’t help but get a little ticked off that that was even a question Stan could even fathom asking.
“Dude! You’re my Super Best Friend! Do you seriously think I just give that title out to any Joe-Fuckin’-Schmoe I meet?” Kyle would ask with a laugh, nodding his head with a definite answer. “Yes, dude. You’re probably always going to be my favorite person.”
Stan’s eyes would, somehow, soften even more than they already were. “W-Well…when you get with a really pretty…probably jewish- girl in college-“ He’d start. Kyle would cut him off pretty fast.
“Dude, you still make time for me, right? Even though you’re dating Wendy?” He’d reason. Stan would seem to have an answer already prepared.
“That’s different- you’re still here-“
“Stan, I’m not going off to war- I mean, my god, this is all one major hypothetical we’re running on. I don’t even know if I’m getting into an Ivy league-" Kyle would jokingly begin, ignoring Stan’s grumbled, “you definitely are. Only Ivy League people randomly use the word hypothetical.” as he continued on.
“You make time for me, so I’m going to make time for you. You’ll just have to trust me on that, okay? You can do that, can’t you?” Kyle would ask. Stan would nod immediately.
“…of course I trust you.” Would be the first words Stan would say that actually sounded more familiar to the “normal” Stan Kyle was used to. His shoulders would loosen, and it warmed Kyle’s heart that he was able to tell that those were the words Stan believed the most out of everything he had said.
“And I trust you. So…there we go. You have nothing to worry about, Stan.” Kyle would reassure him, keeping direct eye contact. He wanted Stan to know that if anything Kyle ever said was true, this was the most sincere thing he’s ever said.
Stan would smile weakly; and Kyle didn’t know why he was so caught off guard when another tear daintily rolled down Stan’s cheek. He’d softly sniffle in, what Kyle assumed, was an attempt to make it seem like he wasn’t crying; despite the fact that Kyle was literally watching him do it.
More tears would come, and before Stan could try to beat them off; Kyle would take his hand and delicately wipe them off of Stan’s face without a word. That seemed to encourage even more tears, and before Kyle knew it, a fond, “C’mere,” was leaving Kyle’s lips. Not even a millisecond would pass before Stan practically threw his arms around Kyle, holding him tight.
Stan would hold onto Kyle so tight; as if letting go of him meant he’d disappear forever. Kyle’s hands would land on Stan’s back, drawing soothing circles into his back as the most heartbreaking sobs escaped his Super Best Friend’s mouth. Kyle would shush him softly, trying to lull him the best that he could. He’d whisper words that he hoped were supportive enough: soft “let it out”’s and “it’s okay”’s. The "I'm staying right here for as long as you need me to” seemed to really get to Stan, and Kyle would allow him to squeeze tighter.
“...is this why you’ve been kinda’ distant with me?” Kyle would finally work up the courage to ask, and he’d immediately be met with more incoherent sobs. He’d physically feel Stan nodding into his shoulder, before he’d make out a few repeated “i’m sorry”’s and “i didn’t mean to”’s. Kyle would lazily tsk at that; mentally high-fiving himself for not convincing himself that he was making that all up.
“Stan…you could’ve just told me. I’m always here for you. You know that, right?” Kyle would ask, his hands migrating a bit lower from Stan’s upper back. That wasn’t entirely purposeful. He’d hear the letter “I” come out of Stan’s mouth- but that was about it, because the next thing he knew, he could’ve sworn he heard something akin to a laugh come out of Stan’s mouth and cut him off.
Kyle’s face would scrunch up in confusion for a minute. What did he say that Stan found funny? Did he do something funny? His eyes would instinctively go to look over Stan’s back to look at his own hands…and the realization hit him like a freight train.
Kyle couldn’t believe he was thinking this.
He had completely forgotten Stan was ticklish.
Well, no, completely forgotten was a total stretch. Obviously, in moments where he’d purposely poke at him; or moments where Stan would purposely make a jab at him- Kyle would remember. Obviously, if you were to ask Kyle if Stan Marsh was ticklish; he’d laugh at you so hard before scoffing a quick, “have you met the guy?” But, for some reason, at this very moment- Kyle’s brain hadn’t correlated that if his hands accidentally got too close to Stan’s sides….
For some reason, it just didn’t click that that would tickle him.
But it clicked now.
Oh, it definitely clicked now.
Just by the look on Stan’s face, and by how quickly Stan would let go of the tight hold he had on Kyle, Kyle had a feeling that the same exact thought process clicked for Stan too. Kyle wouldn’t even let the “Kyle-” come out of Stan’s mouth before he started fluttering his fingers on his Super Best Friend’s sides.
“Kylehehe!” Stan would flinch away immediately, failing to bite back his laughter as he threw himself against his pillow. Kyle would be quick to follow, continuing to attack his sides as Stan’s legs flew up towards his stomach in an attempt to protect himself. “Duhude- Kyle, come ohon!” Stan would clench his teeth together, as if that would stop the noises that were already leaving his mouth. “I’m sohorryy!”
The more Stan, horribly, fought his laughter; Kyle suddenly realized he genuinely didn’t remember the last time he had legitimately, seriously tickled Stan like this. Maybe eighth grade? The more Kyle thought about it, the more it stumped him.
“I don’t know why I don’t do this more often.” Kyle would casually think out loud, tazing his fingers into Stan’s sides sporadically. Stan would yelp, a peal of boyish laughter escaping him before he could stop it. “I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to tickle you. You’re really ticklish.”
Sure, maybe Kyle was teasing a little bit to get Stan to actually laugh more; considering Stan was always the type to try to hide his laugh. But, on the other hand, Kyle was just speaking his mind. Genuinely- why did it take him so long to do this again?
“Shuhuhut uhahahap!!” Stan would whine; the teasing, admittedly, kicking his ass and doing exactly what Kyle intended it to do. “Yohoure mohore- gaHAHa! You’re more tihicklish thahan mehe, yohou ahahahass!” Stan would protest, his legs thrashing as Kyle scribbled on his knees.
It wasn’t lost on Kyle how Stan’s ears turned a bright shade of red the more he spoke. He had almost forgotten how red Stan would get whenever Kyle tickled the shit out of him when they were kids. That was…actually pretty rare; specifically because of the callout Stan just said. Normally, Stan would be the one doing this song and dance. But…now that it was Kyle…
Kyle would be lying if he said a little part of his younger-self wasn’t healing right now. That’s not to say Kyle was never the one in this position- but Kyle normally didn’t get this long. Normally, when they were younger, Stan would just tickle him back; and Kyle would, embarrassingly, crumble the moment that happened.
But…maybe Kyle taking a very long break from tickling him worked in his favor today; because Stan seemed to be malfunctioning- like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Realistically, if the two wrestled for a bit- Stan would get the upper hand eventually. But Stan wouldn’t even attempt to put up much of a fight, his hands more focused on covering wherever they (incorrectly) assumed Kyle would go next.
“Wahahait! Wahahait!!” Stan would curl into himself further as Kyle’s fingers walked up his ribs; as if Stan was trying to sink into the bed frame. “Nohohot- aheehe!! Nahahat thehehere!” Stan would begin to plead; and Kyle couldn’t help but smile as Stan’s laughs turned into “girly” giggles and squeaks. Kyle genuinely forgot how much he enjoyed making Stan sound like that.
“You know, Stan, maybe we can make a tradition out of this!” Kyle had to have his fun while he had the upper hand. “Whenever we see each other during a break or something, when we come back from college, I’ll just tickle the shit out of you! That way, you know I still remember who you are. How’s that sound?”
Stan would frantically shake his head, only managing to get out a high, “Noho wahahay!” Kyle couldn’t help but tease him some more.
“No? Why not? I dunno, I think it’s a good idea, Stan.” Stan would squeal as Kyle inched higher up his ribs, and Kyle couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Okay, okay! We’ll raincheck the idea…”
As fun as this was, Kyle still couldn’t shake the confusion. Oddly enough, Stan didn’t really…seem like he was fighting him? Sure, he was ‘shielding’ himself, if Kyle could even call it that; he was doing a pretty shitty job at it. Kyle wouldn’t let himself linger on it for too long, since he was pretty much just absentmindedly tickling him the more he thought too hard-but he had to admit that…for a moment, he considered that Stan wasn’t doing a good job on purpose.
“Okahay! Wahahait- pffft! Kyle sehEEHERIOUSLY-!” Stan would all but scream, his hands suddenly recalibrating themselves. Kyle would quickly feel Stan’s right fingers interlock with the ones on his left hand; and before Kyle really even thought about it, he’d yank his hand upwards- in turn, yanking Stan’s hand upwards with him.
Kyle’s full attention would come back to him now; and he’d very quickly realize the sudden urgency from Stan came from Kyle’s fingers getting higher and higher. Although that wasn’t entirely intentional- it definitely was going to be in a minute. Kyle’s fingers would still, and he couldn’t help but smirk at Stan as his eyes traveled to his upheld arm, and then back to Stan.
It seemed to hit Stan all too quickly that he had; for the lack of a better word, completely fucked himself. “Kylehe..” Stan would, very anxiously, giggle out; although Kyle couldn’t help but notice Stan’s own efforts to yank his arm down weren’t as effective as they normally would be.
“What? What is it, Stan?” Kyle would, ever so sweetly, ask-only to be met with more anxious giggles and big, scared eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that? Is everything alright?”
Stan wouldn’t respond, so Kyle would raise the stakes by hovering his fingers directly over Stan’s exposed armpit. The reaction was immediate- Stan’s eyes would immediately shut, and he’d cringe to his right, his giggles becoming more frantic as he gritted his teeth.
“Staaan…don’t tell me…” Kyle would trail off in a fake surprise, his hand inching closer and closer. “You’re not…you’re not ticklish, are you?” Kyle would tease with the most shit-eating grin on his face; said grin only growing wider as Stan’s face, somehow, turned more red than it already was.
“Because…I don’t know…you’re laughing so much…and I’m not even touching you.” Kyle would laugh, and as mean as it was, Kyle had to get back at Stan for all the times he would say the exact same thing to him when they were kids. “I just feel like only a reeeally ticklish person would do that.”
Stan had clearly bit his tongue for as long as he could, but as soon as those last few words left Kyle’s mouth; a quick, “Fuhuck ohoff!” would slip out against his better judgment.
Kyle would, of course, take those as fighting words.
“Oh, okay!” Would be all Kyle would say before he abruptly began spidering his fingers over every inch of Stan’s right armpit that he could reach.
Stan’s reaction was immediate. His eyes would immediately snap open as the most dorky cackles flew out of his mouth, as every attempt of Stan stopping himself from laughing flew right out the window.
Stan would shriek, his arm immediately shooting down to actually protect himself. “WAHAHAIT! BahaHA-! WAHAIT, KYLE-!” Were the only words Stan would manage to muster out of his mouth, before he made a noise that Kyle seriously did not remember the last time he heard.
Kyle had been making mental notes of how much he had missed Stan’s laugh this whole time; but the moment the snort that Stan made entered the room, Kyle was absolutely sure that was the sound he missed the most.
Stan’s hand would immediately go from shielding one of the most ticklish parts of his body to covering his mouth, the slap ringing throughout the room as it went silent.
“…Oh my god.” Were the only words Kyle could fathom at first. “You still snort when you laugh!” He’d cheer, which would, of course, make Stan flush out of embarrassment.
“…I thought I grew out of it..” Stan would grumble as his hand was still, practically, stapled to his mouth; his cheeks burning.
“Oh please,” Kyle would, lovingly, roll his eyes as he shook his head. As if. “There are just some things you can’t grow out of, Stan. Like...our friendship!" He would quip, only waiting a beat before speaking again. “…Well, c'mon! Let me hear another one!” Kyle would demand playfully, yanking Stan’s hand off of his mouth and starting his fingers back up again without much of a warning.
Stan would try to get a “hell no” out of his mouth, but all that would come out were cackles as Stan, not so willingly, complied to Kyle’s demand and snorted yet again.
“okahAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY!” Stan would scream through his snorts, trashing so hard that the pillow that had been holding up his head flew off the bed. “fuhuhuck! Kyle, I cahaAHAHANT-!” Stan had decided he was no longer above begging as soon as Kyle drilled his thumbs into his armpits.
“Sure you can, dude! You can do anything you put your mind to!” Kyle would, ever so kindly, encourage. “Besides, my hands are a little trapped here. Soo…I guess we’re just gonna’ keep at this!”
Poor Stan was in stitches at this point; so much so that he couldn’t even get his arms to lift up to ‘free’ Kyle’s ‘trapped’ fingers. All he could do was beg for mercy and surrender some more through his, extremely embarrassing, barrage snorts as tears formed in his eyes. “StohoHOP! Stohohop pleheHEEHEASE!”
Kyle would stop immediately.
“Sorry, dude…I got a little excited.” Kyle would sheepishly admit, yanking his hands away on his own accord. “…I am a little bummed I didn’t get to your actual arms, but that’s for next time, I guess.” Kyle would playfully tease for the last time, offering a hand that Stan would very quickly take.
“Gohod…man, you're an ahasshole…” Stan would giggle as the sensations faded, grabbing his pillow from off the floor and placing it back on the bed. “You’re…you’re meheaner than my sister…”
“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.” Kyle’s eyes would roll once again, playfully punching Stan in the arm as the two just took a moment to sit with each other. They’d both laugh for a minute, before silence consumed the room. The silence was happily welcomed, the two just taking in each other’s presence.
“…Look, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what’s going to happen after we finally graduate.” Kyle would admit after a little while. That sentiment seemed to worry Stan, but Kyle would speak again before the thought really overtook his train of thought.
“But, I do know whatever does happen…we’ll get through it together- no matter how far we are from each other.” Kyle would turn to give Stan a friendly, genuine smile; thrilled when Stan would return the gesture. “We’ll take it one day at a time. Until then, let’s try not to freak ourselves out about it, okay?”
“…I don’t know what I’d do without you, dude.” Stan would confess, not seeming to care how ‘sappy’ that sentiment may seem.
Kyle would nod, smiling as Stan leaned against him. Heartfelt moments for the two weren't exactly rare, but Kyle couldn't help but cherish them every time they happened.
Kyle deeply appreciated it, especially considering how shared the same sentiment to a T. Kyle had known since the moment he met Stan in kindergarten, he had met someone who was going to be in his life forever. This was the guy that was going to be the best-man at his wedding; the guy who he was going to be the god-father to his eventual kids- Stan Marsh was going to be in Kyle Brofloski’s life forever.
And Kyle would do whatever it took to make sure that never changed.
hiiii guys...so...this is kinda different from my usual fics. IT IS STILL SOUTH PARK AND IT IS STILL A TK FIC! but...okay- this is a little au that i might make a series!!! inspired by TFBW- in this au the kids are college age and they all have actual powers!!! they know each other in "real life" but have no clue that each of them are heroes/villains!! the new kid is in the beginning of this...so i guess technically that would make her an oc? (but of course- feel free to replace any describing features in your head to make it your own new kid!) 🥹 i dunno...i might do a separate lore dump later but i hope you guys like it! 🥹🥹 this fic includes Bunny content to feed my brain!! the two flirt, but their situationship is up to your interpretation! the intro is...long..but it's important to lore!! again i hope you guys like this au as much as i do!!!! 🥹🥹🥹
— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️
Nights Like These.
Lee Butters / Ler Kenny
Word Count: 6,326
CW: light description of a burn!! and, of course, a lottttt of cursing!
After a long, unsuccessful night at "work", Kenny returns home to discover Butters has, somehow, acquired an unusual injury. Kenny doesn't want to see Butters in pain, or see the burn get infected, so he decides he has to patch it up: by any means necessary.
“Fuck! Stop him, New Kid!”
Mysterion’s gravely voice would shout as he broke out into a sprint, dashing past The New Kid. A streak of turquoise zipped by seconds earlier; too fast to make out, but familiar enough to trigger alarm bells.
Her head snapped in the direction of the blur.
Oh fuck.
“Get the hell back here, Chaos!” Mysterion would angrily call, skillfully dodging past overloaded boxes improperly stacked in the giant U-Haul storage they were in. The New Kid knew she’d have no time to waste. She didn’t waste time asking how the hell Mysterion let him escape, especially after that whole “I need to be the one to unmask him” ego trip he had been on a little while earlier. ‘Didn’t matter. She should’ve shut that shit down instead of trusting that Mysterion had this in the bag; apparently, this is what she got for being kind. Professor Chaos was loose, and she’d be damned if she let that lunatic skip town on her watch.
She’d smack her heel against the gravel floor, the wheels to her strawberry red rollerskates popping out. She’d prepare for take off, lunging to the ground as she charged up; counting silently in her head.
She’d rocket ahead, a crimson and pear swirled streak flashing past abandoned dollies and half-unpacked crates. Hell, she’d be a pretty shitty Speedster if she wasn’t speedy.
She’d catch up to Mysterion easily, successfully ducking and weaving past every obstacle she faced. For an extra boost, she’d use her Blaster powers to light the back of her shoes on fire; just to put some pep in her step. As the rest of the world around her became blurry, she’d try her hardest to pinpoint where the evil mastermind had gone to, only barely managing to notice Mysterion climbing up a ladder in an attempt to obtain higher ground on the roof.
It was pretty rare for the two to actually be fighting side by side; considering The New Kid was a member of Racoon and Friends and Mysterion was a member of the inferior Freedom Pals. But even Mysterion knew Professor Chaos was a slippery bastard, and catching him solo was a lost cause.
They were originally doing so well; seemingly having Professor Chaos trapped at a dead end. He was cornered. Screwed. Or so they thought. Mysterion had failed to consider that Chaos knew this U-Haul like the back of his hand. She was sure he couldn’t help but internally kick himself for not realizing Professor Chaos always had a backup plan, and probably a backup plan for the backup plan as well.
The New Kid would come to a screeching halt upon reaching a fork in the road, dust and gravel spraying beneath her wheels. She’d look up to her crime-fighting eyes-in-the-skies: her companion on the roof for a little assistance. It would only take a minute for Mysterion to see the turquoise shirt running, since turquoise stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark.
“Right! He went right, New Kid! Motherfucker!” Mysterion would curse, doing a skillful front flip off of his elevated platform, rolling once he hit the floor to prevent seriously injuring himself. “Fuck it! I’ll go left and try to cut him off. Don’t let him get away!”
The New Kid would respond with a curt nod, (she had never been much of a talker, anyway) before putting her middle and index fingers together against her forehead; giving Mysterion a quick two-finger salute before taking off yet again.
Chaos was hers.
Catching and unmasking Professor Chaos had been a mission The New Kid had been on since she became a superhero all those years ago. She had hoped she’d identify him before she graduated high school, but here she was, in her freshman year of college; so she obviously had to move the goalpost a little.
The Racoon had been breathing (or, more-so heaving) down her neck to I.D him for god knows how long. She knew if she didn’t beat everyone else to the punch, someone else in Racoon and Friends would.
In fact, the original plan was for this to be her moment, alone. I.D Chaos and leave Mysterion: full-time Freedom Pussy and full-time grumpy asshole, in the dust. That way, Racoon and Friends could get all the credit for taking down the big-bad in their city. She had to admit, she still hadn’t fully decided whether she was going to do that or not.
She’d, thankfully, see a silver cape frantically zigging and zagging not too far ahead.
And just like that, she had made up her mind. Whether she left Mysterion didn’t matter right now; all that mattered was catching this glitter-covered cockroach; the pesky, prickly little thorn in her side once and for all. She’d rub her hands together, summoning heat until her palms crackled. She would vigorously begin to fling her hands forward; launching little fire balls from her hands.
Somewhere ahead, she heard him squeal. She’d hear a few yelps and stupid little quips like, “Oh Christmas!”’s and “Oh Hamburgers!”’s. God, he was such a loser. She smirked, praying those dumbass catchphrases meant she’d landed at least one hit. She would notice the little blurb had stopped moving, so she assumed that meant he had been hit at least once.
Bingo.
She was just about to gloat, do a little victory dance as she imagined what was about to happen. In her perfect little dream world she’d glide in, strike a pose, and casually unmask him, like it was the easiest thing she had ever done. She would taunt him a little (probably); and then stand there heroically as her beautiful red hair blew in the non-existent wind. The news vans would roll in, cameras flashing. Reporters would scream her name. They would, of course, ask her how she got to be so wickedly awesome. Girls would faint in her presence. Best of all, Racoon would have to get on his knees and grovel at her feet, begging for forgiveness, because she, she, had caught the city’s biggest pain in the ass.
Just as she rounded on him, ready to deliver the final blow, and maybe a really smug one-liner; one she was still deciding on: something badass like, “I’d say ‘nice try’ but...it wasn’t.” or “This game ends tonight. And, spoiler alert…you drew a losing deck.” Her little daydream was cut short as said pain in the ass staggered to his feet and bolted again.
Oh, hell no.
Flames burst from her Blaster-charged heels, turning her skates into afterburners. He wasn’t getting away from her this time. She was determined.
Her determination didn’t seem to matter though. Out of nowhere, a mountain of unstable, overstuffed boxes came crashing down in front of her like a cardboard landslide. She yelped and swerved, barely avoiding a face-plant, skidding to a halt once more.
That asshole!
She’d waste little time hopping over it. She refused to let Chaos’ little sabotage ruin her perfect night, not after she had been doing so well. Swerving her way around the corner, her wheels would screech against the gravel. Only to stop dead in her tracks.
An open gate and nothing else.
Her heart sank.
No Professor Chaos anywhere to be seen. Just the cold night air and a dark alley.
All she could do was stand there, chest heaving, fists clenched and face steaming.
It would only take a few minutes for Mysterion to run from the left; around his own corner, slowing down as soon as he saw an immobilized New Kid. He didn’t need psychic powers to know what she was standing still for.
“Shit...” He’d hiss softly, half heartily snapping his fingers in defeat. They were so close. He was literally right there and, somehow, that slippery little freak still managed to slip right through their gloved fingers.
The New Kid couldn’t stand it. This was the hundredth-something time he had done this shit to her.
The New Kid lost it. She’d stomp her foot with a loud crack, fists trembling, eyes wild. Then she’d start jumping, literally jumping, in place like a volcano with legs. Her wheels would hit the ground so hard they would instinctively pop back up into the soles of her shoes. She’d curse and scream so loudly in her head, it was almost surprising it wasn’t actually coming out of her mouth.
“...We’ll get him next time. We’ll get him- and when we do, we’ll make him wish he had never put his stupid cape on.” Mysterion would grumble in, what The New Kid assumed, had to be a pep-talk. Even though, a part of her had a feeling Mysterion was giving the pep-talk more to himself than to her.
She’d stop jumping after a bit, her legs steading as she’d stare out into the dark. The same dark that had swallowed the bane of her existence whole, allowing him to escape.
‘Professor Chaos better pray to god there isn’t a next time’ were the only words running and repeating in her mind. He better pray. Pray to every god. Every divine entity. Every deity that ever existed. God forbid there be a next time. Because next time? Next time…
Next time she wasn’t letting him get away.
Kenny was absolutely exhausted. Exhausted for reasons that…didn’t really need to be explained.
He had been parked in front of his dorm building for a few minutes now; just needing a minute to sit by himself. Sure, maybe his beat up Pontiac Grand Prix wasn’t the cushiest place to be resting: he seatbelt was fraying, the stereo only worked when it felt like it, and the A/C wheezed half of the time instead of actually letting out air; but it was his, and that made it enough.
On nights like these, nights where he felt like a letdown; it was always a bit therapeutic to just sit in a car that he never thought he’d even have the luxury of having. Sure, his asshole friends clowned his car all the time. Half of them acted like they’d rather walk into ongoing traffic than be seen in it. But, god, he just felt blessed to have a car. Shit, he felt blessed to be going to college in general.
He had already gotten changed; hiding his spare clothes in the usual “work bag” he kept under the driver’s seat of his car. The same bag that had held his current white tank top and worn-out orange sweatpants earlier now held something far more important: his whole Mysterion getup. The mask, the cape, and, of course, the suit.
He’d lean over his seat, making sure to securely tuck the bag under the chair successfully. The thought of someone finding it, unzipping it, and putting the pieces together made his stomach twist. It was his worst nightmare. Kenny McCormick and Mysterion being linked together would put him, and anyone he gave a shit about, in danger. Mysterion had quite a few enemies that Kenny McCormick did not want to piss off.
Kenny didn’t dislike being Mysterion. Far from it, actually. It was…kind of cool sometimes. Kicking ass, looking cool while doing it. But on nights like these- when all the adrenaline had drained from him, when he was left sitting in his beat-up car, feeling like a fuck-up in a cape…it didn’t feel heroic. It felt pathetic. It gave him whiplash: one minute, he’s so high-and-mighty, he’s untouchable. The next minute, he’s just Kenny McCormick again. Broke, tired, and not nearly as badass as her superhero persona.
A part of him, the small, aching part he didn’t like to acknowledge, wished that there was someone he could talk to about this. But, of course he couldn’t do that. Revealing Mysterion would ruin his life and his career. Hell, for all he knew, he was the only “normal” person in Freedom Pals; it’s not like he knew what they’d do once they left the headquarters.
For all he knew, they didn’t have “real names”- maybe their “real names” were their superhero names. Maybe “Toolshed” was actually just named “Toolshed”. Shit, maybe Professor Chaos was just…Professor Chaos. He seriously doubted that. But still.
He didn’t understand why this kept happening. In retrospect, catching Professor Chaos should’ve been the simplest cake walk Mysterion had ever faced. But, for some god-foresaken reason, no one had been able to catch him yet. Kenny couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. He always felt like that now: like something was going on, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
He couldn’t hide in his car forever, though. He had people- someone expecting him. The last thing he’d want to do was worry the one consistent, joyful thing in his life.
He’d do a quick visual check of his body; checking for open wounds or obvious scrapes; anything that would make someone concerned upon first glance. He hadn't really felt much in the moment, since adrenaline had a way of numbing his body for hours- but he didn’t want to walk in all bruised and battered. Not that he’d be screwed or anything; he could always just lie. But…lying to him always made his heart ache. So, he’d do the quick physical as an alternative option.
Once the once over was finished, he felt good to go. Good enough to pass with at least a metaphorical C+. With one last heavy sigh, he braced himself for his nightly performance; mentally rehearsing whatever half-interesting story he’d spin about “work” tonight. Something believable. Something that was open for elaboration, but not something that would lead to him being questioned for hours. Once that was good to go, he’d grab his keys, shut the door, and start the slow climb up the stairs to his shared dorm. Ready to slip into the version of himself he needed to be.
When Kenny had rough nights, he felt very blessed to be able to look forward to going to his dorm. It was a constant thought that ran through his mind. Pains in the ass didn’t last forever; and once they passed, there was always Butters waiting at home.
Kenny had never understood how Butters was even real. Sometimes, he wondered whether he actually wasn’t; maybe he was just a sick imaginary friend everyone else pretended to see. That made sense to him.
Despite what the Super-Hero persona might imply, Kenny wasn’t necessarily a pessimistic person. However, he’d have to admit, the love he had found in Butters felt too good to be true sometimes. It was never intentional. He never meant to fall as hard as he did, it just became commonplace to long for Butters’ presence whenever he was away from him.
He couldn’t exactly place what Butters: sweet, perfect Butters saw in him- but he’d never outwardly complain; too afraid that if he questioned too much, the universe would be cruel as it usually was, and take the gift they had given him away.
Kenny had seen so much; far before he had ever created the Mysterion persona to begin with. The dying, the aftermath, and then the coming back; it was all incredibly traumatic. In a way, the small, emotionally-vulnerable part of him knew that Mysterion was probably some odd-coping mechanism; considering he didn’t have any other, more appealing options.
In truth, the dying wasn’t much of a burden to him anymore. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what happened to him- he’d crawl back to his dorm, and in turn, to Butters, no matter what heat he withstood. However, he couldn’t help but find it funnily ironic at times.
Kenneth McCormick, a man who had become accustomed to hell; to the point that he had his own bedroom on the 3rd ring. That same man was experiencing a love akin to heaven.
Kenny never had to question whether or not Butters was home because, as much as he loved him, he had to admit- he was obnoxiously loud. Kenny could hear the music from the end of the hallway; and he had to silently thank the universe that Butters was so damn charming, because he was certain their neighbors would despise them if it weren’t for Butters’ adorable personality.
Butters was such a dork, but he was smart. Almost scarily smart. Hell, the only reason they even had one of the big dorms with the kitchen was because Butters managed to get a metaphorical home run on his SAT’s and ACT’s; meaning he was on a full ride scholarship. On top of that, Butters had always told Kenny he had it under control; he made good money. Kenny learned long ago from his parents that, sometimes, you don’t really ask where they got the money- you just say thanks and move on with your life.
He’d fiddle with the golden key in his hand that was accented with a little keychain of the two of them: Kenny holding Butters bridal style as Butters tipped bright red, heart-shaped sunglasses below his eyes. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he’d decide he had deprived himself of enough time without Butters. He’d slide the key into the door, and it would open with a click.
He’d be met with the sound of the most adorable humming and the most delicious smell; both coming from their shared kitchen. He knew the smell well. Buttery crust just starting to brown, sweet cinnamon and sugar, tangy baked fruit. That was pie. Delicious apple pie.
“Kenny, my darling!” He’d hear after the most lovable gasp. “Alexa, stop please! Thank you.” Kenny wouldn’t touch on how sweet he thought it was that Butters felt the need to thank every single thing the pair came across. Automatic doors, ovens, Amazon Alexas; that was just Butters. He loved it.
“I was hopin’ you’d get here soon- you have such good timing, you know that?” The soft-spoken, almost honeyed, words would be music to Kenny’s ears. He could sit and listen to Butters talk all day.
“I made your favorite! …Actually, that’s a bit misleading. I made your favorite pie- not your favorite food- because the last time I checked- pie wasn’t your favorite food, but I could be wrong- things can change! You’re so silly, because by lookin’ at you- you’d assume your favorite pie was pumpkin…because…the orange…but I like that you like apples…I like apple pie too!” Butters could probably talk all day too, so it seemed to be a win-win for the both of them.
He’d finally see him- two plates filled with pie as he walked…no.
No. The more Kenny looked at him, the more something felt off. He wasn’t walking. Or, maybe he was trying to, but it didn’t look like he actually was. If anything, it looked more like a…very uncomfortable waddle.
Each step seemed almost uneven; like Butters’ own body was fighting itself. After further staring, he seemed to be able to decipher it a little. His left leg moved naturally enough, but his right leg…that seemed to be where the problem was. It dragged behind the left, not even taking full steps. Actually, it didn’t even look like the right leg was bending- it was just…dragging. Limping. That’s what it was, Kenny finally concluded. Butters wasn’t walking- he wasn’t waddling- he was limping.
“...Why are you doing that?” Kenny would very gently ask. Butters was always very accident-prone, it was one of his charms.
“Doin’ what?” Butters said quickly, a bit too quickly; clearly expecting and dreading the question.
Kenny would tilt his head, crossing his arms loosely. His eyebrows raised in that way that said he already knew the answer, and with the way Butters would quickly turn his head, Kenny knew Butters knew it too. “You’re limping.” Kenny would flatly say.
“Whaat?” Butters would stretch out his words, his eyes widening in a way that was very familiar to Kenny. Caught. “I’m not- I’m not limping-” Butters would let out a jittery laugh, his hand instinctively grabbing onto each other. His right thumb would rub his left pointer finger, his eyes wandering: clearly trying to figure out some sort of excuse.
“I’m just…I’m…I’m dancing..?” Butters would say in a tone that was sooo incredibly believable. Very confident, very good job. Butters seemed to be able to tell that Kenny didn’t buy that one bit- so, in what Kenny assumed was an attempt to prove his piss-poor excuse: Butters would shift his weight, or, at the very least, try to, and the wince that’d invade his face was immediate. That was where Kenny drew the line.
Before Butters could stumble through another poorly executed excuse or sneakily pretend he wasn’t clearly in pain, Kenny was already stepping forward. “Ohhkay, that’s enough of that,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than Butters.
Butters would blink, and it was almost funny to Kenny how Butters didn’t immediately assume what was about to happen- because Kenny did this same exact thing quite often. Kenny could see the gears turning in Butters’ head- and then he could see the moment it hit him. “Wait-Kenny, no, I’m fine, really, I-”
But Kenny had already scooped him up in his arms before he could protest.
Butters would give a startled yelp as Kenny’s arms wrapped under his legs and back, lifting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. Because, in truth, he really was light. Light like a feather.
Butters would flail a little, his hands instinctively gripping Kenny’s shirt, as if they hadn’t been in this same exact position a million times before. “Wait- Kennn! Put me down-!” Butters would whine, his voice cracking in a way that almost made Kenny snort.
“Yeah, no,” Kenny would huff, already walking toward the couch with Butters in hand. “I’m gonna patch that leg up for you! It looks like it hurts.” Kenny would state his game plan clearly. It would only take a minute for the two of them to reach the couch. Kenny would gently lower Butters onto the couch with a practiced care from tending to him quite the many times.
Butters would open his mouth to argue again, in what Kenny knew was his overwhelming guilt for “making” anyone do anything for him, but as soon as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, his leg twitched wrong and his face scrunched up in pain again. Kenny caught the expression and sighed, already heading toward the bathroom. “Just stay put okay, baby? I’ll get the first aid-kit.”
“Kenny, darling, you don’t need to-”
Kenny would shut that down quick. “I do, actually,” Kenny would chime from down the hall. “ I worry about you, you worry about me. It’s a two-way, not a one-way!”
“Using driving terms is mighty rude. You know I’m only in a car when I'm in the passenger seat.” Butters would grumble; and Kenny could vividly imagine the pout on his face. He didn’t have to see him to assume he was crossing his arms as his eyes wandered around the room. That thought would make him move quicker, just so he could see if he was right.
He was.
By the time Kenny returned, he had a roll of gauze, a small bottle of antiseptic, and a determined look that made it very clear Butters wasn’t weaseling his way out of this. “You have a license, you just don’t like using it.” Kenny would very lovingly retort, kneeling beside the couch and placing the supplies down.
“‘Driving’s scary…” Butters would flush, looking up at him with wide, guilty eyes, clutching the hem of his hoodie with the little Hello-Kitty patch in the corner.
Kenny would chuckle with a shake of his head. “Okay, okay…No more driving talk, then. Let’s see it,” he’d say softly, every inch of sarcasm long gone. With the way Butters was positioned, Kenny would reach for the non-injured leg first, since that was the one closest to the couch’s end. He’d be as gentle as humanly possible, not wanting to hurt Butters. That seemed to backfire on Butters’ behalf.
“Kenneeheehee!!”
Kenny would recognize that squeal anywhere.
“Yes, babe?” Kenny would respond, continuing to shift his hands- since he had to move this leg one way or another.
“Aehehee! You’re doin’ thihis on puhurpose!” Butters would, quite rudely, accuse- giggling all the while as his hands would shoot up to block his embarrassingly red face.
If Kenny were meaning to cause this reaction, he would’ve taken those hands so quick, Butters’ head would spin. But, the gods honest truth was: he wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have his fun, though.
“What am I doing?” Kenny would, admittedly evilly, smirk- maintaining as much eye contact as Butters would let him have. “I’m a little dense, baby, I’m sorry.”
“You’re- eheehe! You're tihihickling me!” Butters would laugh, adorably, the leg currently in Kenny’s grasp kicking a little; in a bogus attempt of escaping.
“Oh my god, really?” Kenny would so lovingly sigh, as if he didn’t know that answer already. “Everything tickles to you, Butters.” Kenny would fondly tease; deciding that he’d keep this leg at his disposal for now, in case the injury was really bad.
“Noho! Nahat true!” Butters would attempt to protest, and Kenny had to respect the effort. Although, he had to admit, it was hard to take Butters seriously while the most loveable noises were coming out of his mouth. “You’re just- bahaha-! You’re reheally tihihicklyyy!! Stahahaap!”
Butters would squeak, and Kenny would have to fight the urge to audibly coo at him. All Kenny had done was accidentally run his nails behind Butters’ left knee. It was very sweet that that was all that it took. Kenny would do what he was told, for now.
As he rolled up the pant leg of the actually injured leg, he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from furrowing. The back of Butters’ right knee was bad- worse than Kenny had hoped. It was raw and blister-y, like Butters had somehow managed to stick just the back of his knee into a burning hot oven. Kenny genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had seen his fair share of injuries. This? This was recent. This…
It looked like it wasn’t even an hour old.
Kenny wanted to ask how the hell this managed to happen, but he’d bite his tongue. Although it sounded strange, that wasn’t what really concerned him. He couldn’t leave it like that. He had to clean it. Meaning…shit.
This was going to fucking suck.
Butters seemed to already catch on as to why Kenny had stopped speaking. He’d waste no time before beginning to talk. “I know it looks bad! It was an accident! I’m sorry- darling, it doesn’t hurt that bad, really. I was- uh, kneeling down to get something I dropped and the hot…thingy I was usin’- it fell on the back of my knee. But it’s not as bad as it looks!”
Kenny wouldn’t really digest all of Butters’ rambling. He wanted to say ‘you should’ve told me.’ But the rational part of him knew that wouldn’t help right now. He needed to clean it. But, admittedly, he didn’t know if he could sit through seeing Butters in pain as he did. He’d have to do this in some other, unconventional, way.
“Kenny?” Butters would question, hands leaving his face and going back to the nervous hand soothing. “…Oh Christmas…you’re not mad at me are you? Kenny…darling, I’m so sorry- I’m trying to be careful- I swear it! This just happens sometimes and when it does- I dunno what to do! Baby, I am so sorreEHEE-!”
Kenny would waste little time skittering his nails up Butters’ left thigh, using one hand to target every weak spot he could currently reach without bending over too much. It worked like a charm.
Butters would squeal yet again, his left leg attempting to shoot up to his stomach, only to be held down by a, now moved, Kenny. Kenny was now in between his legs; to the point that Butters couldn’t even see either of his knees if he wanted to.
“Sorry, baby. ‘Just checking the bases, you get it!” Is what Kenny would pass it off as, already multitasking: quickly removing the cleaning-swab out of its seal with his teeth.
“Nohoahaha!! Dohohon’t-! Keheheneeheehee pleeheheease!!” Butters would plead; despite the fact they weren’t even fifteen seconds in. Kenny could’ve easily launched the ‘don’t what?’ trick, since Butters managed to fall for it every single time- but he’d show a little bit of kindness tonight.
Kenny simply wouldn’t respond to the begging: feeling a little guilty for what he was about to do, but if he wanted this plan to work, he’d have to play dirty. He’d walk his fingers up Butters’ leg, stopping at the top of his hip. He’d wait a few moments; evilly grinning as the next, whispered, words fell out of his mouth.
“Any burns on your belly I should know about?”
Butters face would turn red in an instant.
“NOHOHO! Nohoho- thehere’s none! I-I swehear it!” Butters head would shake rapidly, his hands already shooting to his stomach; in a way of postponing the inevitable. “Plehease- plehehease don’t! Ihihi- ihihi caaahaahaanttt!” Butters would beg, despite the fact that Kenny had yet to even move his hand yet.
Kenny could tell Butters was attempting to appeal to his morality. It wasn’t working in the slightest, but it was amusing; so Kenny would let him continue.
“Anywhere…anywhehere but thehehere! It’s..eeeheeehe-!” Butters seemed to be in an inescapable purgatory; hands being unable to decide whether to hide his blushing face, or hide his stomach. He’d seem to decide on the latter as he felt a cold hand slip under his hoodie.
“NOHohohoo!! Daharling, pleheeease! Have merceeheey!” He’d whine, flashing his usual puppy-dog eyes. He was calling Kenny darling through his giggles now, which meant he was pretty damn desperate.
“It’s gohonna tihickle so baaahahahad!!”
Kenny couldn’t help it, even if he wanted to. All he could do was sweetly smile as he locked eyes with the pleading love of his life.
“Great! That’s what I’m going for!”
Butters would shriek with laughter as he felt five fingers scribble around his, very ticklish, stomach. Kenny could practically read Butters’ mind: Kenny was usually far nicer than this. Never this cruel.
The snorts would come quickly, and they made Kenny’s heart melt, as they usually did. Butters would babble, his words mushing together in incoherent “i give”’s and “please no more”’s. Whenever Kenny thought he couldn’t love Butters any more than he already did, he just had to hear his laugh.
“stAAHAAHAP IIIIHIHIT!” Butters would eventually get out; and a part of Kenny wished he had been blessed with the power of time manipulation. At least then, he’d be able to rewind and hear Butters laughing whenever he wanted. Alas, stopping was the one thing Kenny did not seem content on doing right now.
”Kehenny plehease! Ihihit- gahAHA! IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!” Butters would state shriek the obvious. If Kenny weren’t so damn focused on making sure this burn was properly treated; he’d be having a field day with the teasing he could be doing. He’d just have to resort to driving Butters up the wall another way.
“WAHAHAIT! Wahait, wahahait pleehEEHEASE-!” Butters would jolt as Kenny would dig his fingers in a particularly sensitive spot below his bellybutton. “YOHOHOU WIHIHIN!! PLEeeheeaseeee!! Kenny, I gihIHIHIHIVE UAHAHAAP!”
Kenny would’ve, metaphorically, poked more on what exactly Kenny was “winning”- since he wasn’t doing this to best Butters or anything…but he was currently occupied; using his teeth, yet again, only this time to rip some gauze off of the roll. Butters seemed to be laughing so hard, he was none-the-wiser.
“UHUHUNCLE!” Butters would practically screech, as if Kenny had ever been the type to force him to ‘uncle out’ for him to stop. “MERCEeheeheee! Ihihi…ohoh hahamburgers…” Butters would descend into soft giggles, his hands changing their mind- and going back to shielding his rosey red cheeks.
“‘Almost done..” Kenny would gently hum, slipping his hand out from under Butters’ hoodie. As fun as this was, unfortunately wrapping gauze with only one hand seemed…pretty impossible.
Kenny would tie the gauze into a knot with a steady hand; the room falling into silence as Butters’ giggles would slowly fade away. It wasn’t perfect by any means; especially by “Mysterion Standards” of having to tend to his own wounds in hell- but by Kenny McCormick standards: it wasn’t too shabby. “Thank god we tended to it- you could’ve gotten an infection…” Kenny didn’t mean to scold, but he didn’t know any other way to get the urgency across.
“Try not to walk on it for a little while, okay? We want it to heal properly…” He’d give his best, reassuring smile. God, he really hoped Butters knew he was only being so damn “bossy” because he cared. Butters’ could barely look at him. For a moment, Kenny worried he had gone too far. The better part of him knew that probably wasn’t the case; but that didn’t stop the room from feeling heavy.
“...I’m sorry for ruining the night.” Butters would whisper meekly, his eyes cast downwards as he picked at the strings of his hoodie.
Admittedly, that sentiment caught Kenny off guard. “Hey..” he’d tenderly whisper back, shifting from sitting on Butters’ legs to lying beside him instead. He’d gently scoop him up, yet again, and hold him on his lap with practiced care. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He’d say softly, lightly resting his forehead against Butters’. “You…you couldn’t ruin anything if you tried, you know that?”
Butters wouldn’t answer right away, but he would blush immediately. The silence would fill the room again, except this time it was a more comfortable silence than before.
“Well now you’re just flirting with meee..” Butters would break said silence, teasing like he was one of those damsels from the Wild Wild West. He’d twirl the imaginary strand of hair around his finger, batting his eyelashes as he shimmed his shoulders. “You’re quite the charmer…”
Kenny would huff out a small laugh, running his fingers through his own hair. “Why thank you, madam…that’s very kind.” He’d, very tastefully, match Butters’ accent; gladly taking the “macho sheriff role” in their little banter. Kenny could never say no to a good character.
Butters’ would giggle like he always did; finding everything Kenny did extremely funny, no matter what it was. He’d giggle and giggle, topping it off with a quick peck to the cheek before resting more against the couch. “..I’m sorry for not telling you, Kenny. Next time-”
Kenny would quickly cut him off. “Let’s aim for there not being a next time.”
“You’re right! You’re right..” Butters would nod, lifting his hands in a faux surrender. His tone would soften as he’d continue, “...But I won’t try to…hide it from you. That was stupid, you know me too well anyway.” Butters would huff.
“I do!” Kenny would say with the most gleeful smile and his, stupid, boyish pride. He’d reach out to gently cup his cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye, tenderly.
“I’m going to tell you everything forever.” Butters would, of course, have to declare; happily wrapping his arms around the back of Kenny’s neck. “Keeping things from each other isn’t like us anyway…secrets are for strangers…not for us.”
Kenny didn’t know if he could keep doing this.
If this world were fair and just; he wouldn’t have to be torturing himself like this. In a perfect world, a miracle would happen, and every single threat; every single bad omen and entity Mysterion faced would be snapped out of reality. Then, and only then, would Kenny finally be able to say what he had, quite literally, dying to reveal all these years the two had been together.
But, this world wasn’t perfect; far from it. That was the exact reason why he had to continue to burden himself; continue to allow himself to feel awful as he’d smile at the one person that kept him going- even on the nights he didn’t want to. Telling Butters would only make things more complicated; only make things worse- and although Mysterion could withstand anything: Kenny McCormick drew the line at putting Butters in danger.
Kenny wouldn't be able to handle if he were the reason something happened to Butters. Even an injury of this magnitude; something he had nothing to do with, was still hard for him to handle. He had still yet to wrap his head around how Butters managed to get an injury of that intensity on his own- but he'd refuse to dwell on that for too long. Keeping Butters happy and healthy was his priority; even if that meant he had to do the shitty thing once and a while and lie to his face.
He didn’t care if it was selfish- he very rarely allowed himself to have things, have people, in his life that brought him joy; in the fear that one day he’d be taken away from them. He’d allow himself to keep what he had with Butters alive. Maybe he didn’t deserve it, but that was the way the cookie crumbled.
He had made his choice all those years ago when he first put on the suit. This was his fight, and his fight alone. This was his burden to bear; and although he agreed with Butters' sentiment…unfortunately some secrets were best kept in solitude.
So, he’d smile and nod. He’d suck up the guilt, suck up the urge to throw the biggest weight on his shoulders off of him; and he’d nod. “Yeah,” he’d laugh, deeply hoping that Butters wouldn’t notice how he ached behind his smile.
when i said i was taking a hiatus- i intended it to be a few weeks. those weeks turned into months…and those months turned into years.
admittedly, the longer i waited- the harder it was to come back. i got hit with very bad writer’s block- and a part of me was really embarrassed that i was taking so long to produce something i was genuinely proud of. im a perfectionist to my core- and the thought of releasing something that didn’t meet my own personal standards felt like i was disrespecting you guys.
i had basically convinced myself that when i came back i had to be good- because i can’t play the waiting game just to release something that isn’t as nearly as good as the wait.
all of this is to say…im really sorry.
i genuinely didn’t know if i ever was going to be able to come back to this account. but, these past couple of weeks my tiktok fyp has been flooded with South Park content; and although i, eventually, want to branch out and write for other fandoms- i finally got the surge of inspiration i needed!!!
im finishing up a fic that i plan to release in the next two to three days!! its over six thousand words- and its the fractured but whole inspired- and im so thrilled to say that i feel like my love for writing has come back to me.
thank you all for the patience and kindness you have shown me these past two years! 🥹 i truly am fortunate to have met such amazing people- and i hope to continue doing that for a long, long time to come!!!
thank you guys so much again!! i hope you like the fic once it comes out!!! i missed you all loads 🥹🥹
hi strawberry!! i hope you are doing well!! 💗💖 thank you so much for legit being the sweetest person i’ve ever met 😭💖💗 i always appreciate all the kind comments you leave on my writing you’re always so thoughtful and your words mean so much 😭💞 i always reread ur fics and hcs, your writing is so so adorable i love it so much!! 😭❤️💖 i hope you’re having a great day/night!! <33
hi toast🥹❤️
this is genuinely so sweet and i don’t know how to describe how much i needed to hear this right now. i wanna start off by saying im sorry ive been super inactive- a lot of…not so great things have happened as of recently- and im trying to think of a way to convey what’s happening without tmi-ing-
i lost someone really close to me recently- and my mental health has just been…not all that good.
i promise that i didnt forget about you guys!!! and i do plan on writing more fics. every single request ive gotten in my inbox WILL be fulfilled- but i just have to clarify that it may take a little bit.
im gonna try to be more active here! pinky promise!
thanks again for everything you guys! ill try to get my next fic out soon 🥹❤️
It was a beautiful, sunny day in South Park, which was quite surprising considering the past few days were rather snowy. It was like the clouds decided to take a break for the day, which was perfect for local elementary student Kyle Broflovski.
There was a lot of talk recently about the new kid at school, Mark Cotswolds. Apparently he and his sister had been homeschooled their entire lives, with this being the first year of Mark attending a public school. But even though the entire fourth grade class was talking about the new kid, Kyle was more interested in his sister, Rebecca.
Rebecca just seemed so amazing, Kyle couldn’t help but form a little crush on her. She was kind and super smart, winning the elementary spelling bee her first year of competing. She was also very pretty, Kyle adored the way she parted her hair with those cute, red barrettes that framed her bangs to the side of her face. He finally managed to gather the courage to ask her out to the school dance the other day, and she said yes. He decided to go visit her at her house again today just to see her, the nice, sunny weather seeming perfect for the occasion.
As soon as Kyle arrived Rebecca lead him outside to her father’s beautiful garden in the backyard, the two chatting quietly on a stone bench among the flowers. Kyle waited for a break in the conversation before looking over and asking Rebecca a question that’s been on his mind recently.
“Rebecca, have you ever been in love before?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice shaky. “How does one know if they’re in love?”
Kyle thought for a second and looked up at the clear sky. “Well… I think it’s something that you just kind of know,” he said as he turned to her, “You know you’re in love if you always find yourself thinking of that one person and always wanting to be with them. And your heart feels all fuzzy and warm whenever you see them.”
“Oh,” Rebecca tapped her fingers together in thought. She wasn’t completely sure if she had been in love before, but “fuzzy” and “warm” were definitely some nice words to describe it. “That sounds quite nice. Wh-What do people usually do when they’re in love?” She asked, looking up shyly at the boy sitting next to her.
“Well uh,” Kyle paused, trying to think of a response. He wasn’t the most experienced in love, honestly. His view of it was primarily formed from cheesy romance scenes from movies and seeing how his parents along with Stan and Wendy acted in their relationships. “Well, for starters people in love go on dates and spend time with each other, going out for dinner and buying each other gifts and stuff like that,” he explained.
Rebecca seemed a little dispirited by this answer. “Oh, that sounds like it could be expensive. Maybe love isn’t for me then,” she noted, rubbing her hands together anxiously.
Kyle immediately noticed her disinterest and jumped back in to explain some more, “well, they don’t always have to do that stuff. People in love do other things with each other too, like hold hands, hug, and uh…” he thought back to his parents’ relationship along with Stan and Wendy’s. What things did they usually do together? “…And uh, cuddle and tickle each other. But sometimes, they can even um, share a kiss-”
“T-Tickle?” Rebecca suddenly asked, turning her head to look at him.
Kyle paused. “Um, well yeah, sometimes.” He didn’t expect that part to be the focus of the sentence. He really only added it in because he knew that Wendy and Stan had annoyingly loud tickle fights all the time. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now he was worried that he just opened a can of worms that he never meant to open.
“What is that like?” She asked.
Kyle couldn’t help but raise a brow at this. “What? What is tickling like?” Rebecca nodded at him. “Well, haven’t your parents ever tickled you? Or your brother?” Kyle questioned, Rebecca shaking her head. The redhead frowned a bit at this, that was kind of sad. He got tickled by his parents all the time and always enjoyed giving his baby brother Ike a few tickles whenever they played together. Damn, he knew Rebecca was sheltered, but he didn’t know that she was sheltered to the point where she had never been tickled before.
“Mmm,” the girl hummed in thought, biting her lip. “I have read about it a few times in books and stories, but I have never experienced it m-myself. What does it feel like? Does it hurt?” She asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.
“Well uh, not really. It’s more uncomfortable, like an annoying itching feeling that makes you laugh and wiggle around. But um… it also can be sorta... fun... sometimes,” Kyle got quieter as he said the last part of his sentence. He couldn’t help but blush a little bit as he explained, it was a little flustering to put it into words. He had tickle fights with his brother and with his friends all the time, why was it so embarrassing now!?
Rebecca still looked confused. “I-I don’t quite understand. How can something be uncomfortable but fun at the same time?”
“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,” Kyle scratched the back of his head. He knew it would be a lot easier to understand if he just tickled her himself, but he didn’t know if he had the bravery to do that. The idea of tickling his crush and seeing her all smiley and giggly seemed really flustering. But he still kind of wanted to try it so she could better understand what it was like. Kyle cleared his throat, trying to gather his confidence. “Um… I can just s-show it to you if you’d like,” he suggested, his face going red at his own words. He couldn’t believe he just managed to ask that.
“O-Okay, sure,” Rebecca nodded. She folded her hands in her lap and glanced over at him, anxiously twiddling her fingers. Kyle reached out, making sure his movements were slow so she could see what he was doing. The last thing he wanted was to scare her or make her uncomfortable. His gloved hand brushed against the girl’s side, his fingers gently kneading and wiggling at the spot over her jacket. Rebecca gasped and instantly jerked away as the strange, new sensation spread throughout the nerves on her side. That was unlike anything she’s ever felt before. However, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.
“S-Sorry,” Kyle apologized and immediately pulled back his hand, worried that he made her uncomfortable. But to his surprise, she scooted back next to him and gave him a soft smile.
“T-That was weird, I didn’t mean to flinch away like that,” Rebecca wondered out loud. “Here, y-you can try again if you'd like," She offered. Kyle shyly reached back out and tried it again, Rebecca slowly bursting into giggles as his fingers on her side moderately increased in speed.
“Hahaha! Thihis is strahange! Why aham I lahaughing so muhuch? I’m nohot meheaning tohoo,” Rebecca laughed, her smile so wide that her nose crinkled. She squirmed against the bench, a hand up to her mouth as the other laid gently on Kyle’s wrist.
“Well, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kyle grinned as Rebecca giggled and squirmed beneath his fingertips. Holy shit, her laugh was so cute. He couldn’t help but smile a bit himself and blush from the sound. He’d never actually heard Rebecca laugh before, so he was a little taken aback by it. It was just so bubbly and sweet-sounding.
He gently dragged his hand over to her stomach, deciding to see if she was ticklish there too. Turns out she definitely was. Her laughter increased as the spot was targeted, her legs swaying slightly off the bench. Kyle smiled softly at her, continuing for a moment longer before starting to pull his hand away. As much as he really liked hearing the sound of her laughter, he didn’t want to go overboard and accidentally overwhelm her.
“You uh, okay?” Kyle asked as Rebecca slowly stopped her giggling.
The girl nodded. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, thank you. Say, does this method work on anyone?”
Kyle shrugged slightly. “Uh, yeah I guess so. Well, only if they’re ticklish.”
“Oh, I see,” Rebecca thought for a second. “So I guess I’m ticklish then?”
Kyle laughed a little. “Hehe yeah, definitely.” A moment of silence passed before Rebecca spoke up again, turning to the boy sitting next to her.
“Are you ticklish as well?”
The question caught Kyle off guard. He made a sound that sounded halfway between a sputter and a gasp as his mouth and brain fought to agree on an answer. “I um. Well uh- y-yes, a little bit,” he admitted, his face blushing once more.
Rebecca tilted her head a little bit at his reaction. “Why was that question so hard to answer? Do you not actually know yourself?”
“N-no, it’s just that um,” Kyle turned his head and planted his hands firmly on his knees, being too flustered to be able to look at her as he spoke. “Well um, usually when people ask if someone’s ticklish i-it’s probably because they’re gonna t-tickle them.”
Rebecca’s eyes softened as she nervously played with her hands. “Oh. D-Did you want me to tickle you? Would it be okay if I tried it?”
Kyle went bright red once again, his face heating up instantly. “I-I-I um.. Well er- I uh…” he stammered out the beginning to three different sentences before finally deciding on one. “Y-You could try it if you want to, I guess…” he mumbled, scooting closer next to her. He still refused to make eye contact.
Jeez, now he understood how Stan felt. Kyle used to always make fun of him for going bright red every time Wendy tickled him, but now that he was experiencing it himself, he perfectly understood that reaction. This was so flustering. Kyle didn’t want to disappoint Rebecca, but GOD was he ticklish. It was going to be hard trying to keep it together and not become an embarrassing, squirmy, blushing mess in front of her.
“Okay,” Rebecca said before reaching her hands out, lightly fluttering her fingers over Kyle’s side. She tried her best to mirror his movements from earlier.
Kyle immediately snorted through his nose, his grip on his knees tightening as he desperately tried to bite back laughter. He tried his best to suppress his reactions, but couldn’t help giggling a bit as he flinched from her fingertips. He tried to stay as still as he could, but still ended up squirming a bit as her fingers ran across his sides.
“It seems to be working, you’re squirming an awful lot,” Rebecca noted making Kyle’s blush increase. He reached up to tug at the ears of his trapper hat, wishing he was able to hide his face in it. She looked up at him, noticing how his cheeks got significantly rosier.
“Your face is all red as well, is that normal?” Rebecca asked as she continued to tickle Kyle’s sides.
“Y-Yehehes!” He cried out, turning his face away from her as his eyes squeezed shut from laughter. God, Kyle knew that she was just being genuinely curious and asking questions, but her words only made him blush and laugh harder. Her hands shifted to his stomach, Rebecca remembering how he tickled her there earlier. It seemed to be just as an effective spot as his sides, the boy continuing to squirm against the bench and laugh. Kyle tugged harder at his hat. It was taking everything in him to not shove off her hands.
Rebecca spidered her fingers up to Kyle's ribs after a moment, wanting to see if he had more tickle spots as well. He ended up squealing as soon as her fingers met his ribs, his squirming turning into thrashing. “W-Wow, you seem more ticklish here,” Rebecca smiled softly, a little surprised at how much Kyle was reacting. All it took was a little flutter of her fingers and he was in pieces. This was crazy.
He definitely couldn’t take it anymore after that. “Ohohokahay ohohokahay! Nohoho mohore plehehease!” Kyle pleaded, his hands shooting down to gently grab her wrists. She pulled back right away, much to his relief. Kyle sat there breathlessly for a minute, his already red face blushing even more when he opened his eyes to see Rebecca observing him.
“Are all people as ticklish as you?” She asked, her curious eyes staring right into his.
Kyle went even more bright red at her question, his eyes immediately shifting away to avoid her burning gaze. Jesus, he didn’t even think he could get this red. His face was practically overheating. “W-Well um, n-no. That’s… just me,” he admitted honestly, nervously playing with his hands a little bit.
“Hmm, I see,” Rebecca glanced down at her hands before shyly smiling up at him. “Well, that was quite an interesting but fun new experience. T-Thank you for showing it to me.”
“Oh uh, of course,” Kyle smiled bashfully, not saying anything else for a minute as he enjoyed just sitting next to her on the bench. He peaked down at his watch, frowning when he noticed that it was already almost five o’clock. “Ah jeez, I better start heading home,” he regretfully mumbled as he got up. His mom was probably already starting on dinner by now and he definitely didn’t want to miss it. He loved his mom's cooking too much and didn't want to worry her by being out too late.
“Oh, alright,” Rebecca replied as she watched him stand up.
Kyle stood on the grass, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Um, I guess I’ll see you at the dance tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’ll see you too.”
The two shared a smile and said their goodbyes before Kyle went back through the sliding glass door to go inside. He gave a quick wave to Mr. and Mrs. Cotswolds before heading out the front door to walk home. His mother was almost done making dinner when he arrived, Kyle eating it quickly before heading up to his room.
He could barley sleep that night, the excitement and nervousness he had for the dance tomorrow night keeping him up as flashbacks of today ran throughout his mind. But when Kyle was finally able to fall sleep, he had a restful night and woke up the next morning well-energized and ready for the dance. The two ended up having an amazing time together, Rebecca was so happy that she decided to go. They hung out and danced together the entire time, Rebecca having way more fun than she thought she would. It definitely became a night that she and Kyle would always remember and happily look back upon.
so!!! as some of you know- my birthday as tomorrow (yayyy!) and i wanted to give a little gift to you guys as a thank you!
unfortunately, everything im writing is still in the works :( so i wanted to find an alternative! i know it isn’t much- but this is all my silly way of showing what im workin on right now! (just so you guys know i am working on things!)
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
FICS:
lee!barbarian tweek and ler!feldspar (thief craig)!
i got an ask for these two sillies AGES ago (im so sorry for making you wait so long anon :((( ! but it IS in the works! pinky pinky swear!!!)
lee!butters and ler!kenny!
this one was one of my own silly little ideas- since i was very very happy to see how much everyone loved the butter’s little southern twang hc 🥹 so expect a lot of southern and a lot of giggles!
lee!tweek and ler!craig!
more of the sillies!!! 🥹 this one actually has a funny backstory- a couple of days ago i responded to an ask that was asking me where i get my inspiration! (thank you again for that ask🥹) and in the hashtags i said this!
AND THAT IS WHAT INSPIRED THIS FIC LMAOOOO basically it’s the backstory behind the C + T carving in the woods!!! cute and silly and fun!!!
🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓
and that’s what i got!!! my asks are still open so if you ever feel the urge to request or ask something- feel free to pop that in there!!! thanks for all the patience everyone!!! 🥹
It was a normal day at school, with Wendy and Bebe standing at their lockers after class. Bebe was detailing the most recent talk she had with the girls as she dug through her locker, Wendy standing next to her as she read something on her phone. The hallway was buzzing as kids crowded around their lockers, chatting and getting out their supplies and books for the next class.
“So I asked Red today in math if she got tickets for the concert, and she said that she didn’t get them yet, but she’s still trying,” Bebe updated as she reached in her backpack for her math book, trading it out for the science book from her locker.
“Uh-huh,” Wendy nodded, not looking up from her phone. She of course valued and cared about what Bebe was saying, but Wendy was currently too busy in her own world trying to decipher a text from Stan. She stared at the most recent message from him, squinting as she tried to figure out what the hell he was trying to say. His text was riddled with typos and improper grammar, like he rushed typing it before going to class. Well at least it wasn’t just a thumbs up emoji, Wendy thought. The text being an actual message with words was definitely (and sadly) an improvement, even if it was a little hard to read.
Bebe meanwhile went on, believing Wendy was still paying attention, “So then I asked Heidi if she was able to get tickets, and she said that she didn’t either because she’s waiting for the price to drop, which I get. Because obviously I still wanna go see Taylor Swift like everyone else, but there’s no way in hell I’m paying two hundred dollars for freaking nosebleeds! So we all agreed that even if we couldn't get tickets we'll still all go and hang out outside the stadium until they like, kick us out haha.”
“Yeah,” Wendy agreed absentmindedly as she stared at her phone.
“Do you already know what you’re gonna wear yet? I’m still deciding between dressing for Red or for Fearless. Because the red heart-shaped sunglasses with the fedora and white T-shirt look from 22 is iconic, but the fringe dress from Fearless would be sooo cute! I was going to go with 1989 since that’s my favorite album, but I don’t really know how to dress for that,” Bebe continued as she shut her locker, looking over to see Wendy engrossed in her phone.
“Wendy?”
Wendy said nothing as she typed in a few question marks on her phone and sent it to Stan as a response. That’ll do, she figured. She didn’t really know what else to say.
“Wendy, are you even listening?“ Bebe leaned over and gently poked two fingers into her friend’s side to get her attention, jumping back when Wendy let out a shrill squeak and flinched away. Luckily Wendy managed to not drop her phone despite her exaggerated reaction.
“Oh my god, what was that?!” The blonde asked with a small smile, surprised but entertained by Wendy’s response.
Wendy quickly turned around to look at her, shoving her phone in her pocket. “N-Nothing! Sorry, what were you saying?” She stammered out, clearly flustered.
Bebe said nothing and looked at Wendy for a second before diving her hand out once more, tasing Wendy’s side with her fingers in hope of getting a reaction similar to the first. Wendy let out a squeal as she felt the tickly feeling shoot up her body like electricity, her lips forcibly turning up in a smile as she jolted away from the blonde’s fingers.
“Behebe! Knohock it off!” Wendy demanded as she squirmed and swatted at Bebe’s hand.
“Oh my god, Wendy, you’re ticklish?” Bebe exclaimed excitedly, her eyes sparkling as she beamed at her friend. She looked as if this was the greatest news she had heard in her life.
Wendy felt her cheeks heat up at her question. “Wh-!? I- N-No!” She stammered out, not knowing the best way to answer. She knew she was kind of screwed either way, Bebe was way too curious and eager to take no as an answer. Before Wendy knew it, Bebe already had launched her hands out, her manicured fingernails fluttering against Wendy’s sides.
Bebe gasped and smiled gleefully as Wendy burst out giggling. “Oh my god, you totally are! That’s so cute!” She cooed excitedly.
Wendy’s body wriggled around as she tried to throw off Bebe’s hands. “Behebe! Hehehe- stohohop!” She cried out, reaching for Bebe’s wrists. She was able to successfully grab them and pull them away making the blonde’s fingers still. Wendy held onto her friend’s wrists for a moment as she caught her breath, reluctant to let go. Her grip loosened for a split second, Bebe taking that opportunity to immediately rip her hands free and return to scribbling fingers over the other girl’s sides, inching her way up her ribs.
“Gah- Behehebe!” Wendy burst out into another peal of bubbly laughter, this time louder since she was caught more off guard.
“Hehe, aw! You’re so ticklish!” Bebe smiled warmly, the other girl’s cheeks turning light pink at her statement.
Wendy doubled over as her giggles increased, the sound starting to catch the attention of the other kids in the hallway. The black-haired girl blushed as she felt eyes on her, looking up to see some people staring. “Behebe, stohop! Plehehease! P-Peheheople ahare lohooking!” Wendy pleaded.
Bebe looked over, meeting the eyes of some of her fellow classmates. Most wore soft smiles as they watched the scene in front of them while others were looking at the two with confused looks. “Fine,” Bebe sighed as she reluctantly pulled her hands away. As much as she enjoyed messing around with her best friend and using this newfound knowledge against her, Bebe also rather not have the attention of the entire hallway on them. Wendy panted and leaned against the locker as soon as Bebe stopped, trying to recover as quickly as she could. The other kids in the hall watched for a second longer before returning to what they were doing, much to the girls’ relief.
Wendy looked up at Bebe with a slight glare, thinking of something to say when the bell suddenly rang. “Oh!” Bebe perked up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and rushing away down the hall. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late for science!”
“Wh- But the bell just rang!?” Wendy complained but hurried after her anyway.
-
A few hours had gone by, with the girls currently gathered together in the gym for cheerleading practice after school. Wendy was having a nice conversation with the other girls when Bebe suddenly came over, having other, more mischievous plans.
“Hey, guys!” The blonde greeted as she stood next to Wendy, the girl eyeing her suspiciously.
“Oh, hey, Bebe!” Nichole waved, “we were just talking about the Taylor Swift concert coming up.”
“Yeah, I’m so excited!” Lola chimed in.
“Oh, nice! Hey by the way, I found out something really funny today, did you guys wanna hear it?” Bebe questioned with a sly smirk. Wendy raised a brow, she didn't like that tone.
The girls all looked really intrigued at this. "Well yeah of course, what is it?” Annie asked.
“Yeah, what is it, Bebe?” Nichole spoke up as well, equally excited.
Bebe couldn't stop herself from chuckling a bit. "Well... did you guys know that Wendy’s ticklish?” She blurted out making Wendy turn pale. The girls all gasped at this news, their jaws dropping before they all shared the same eager smile.
“Wait, what? Seriously?” Heidi asked in disbelief. It was hard imagining Wendy all giggly. The girl always acted so mature, having a tough sense of humor and being hard to crack. She almost never laughed.
“Really?” Nichole quizzed with a smile, her eyes shining with sudden curiosity.
“No way,” Red shook her head.
“W-What!? Bebe!” Wendy scolded as the girls all talked at once. But her scowl quickly turned into a grin as Bebe brought her hands up to scribble fingernails up and down her sides and ribs. Wendy let out a squeal, flinching away defensively as she giggled brightly and batted at the blonde. The girls all gasped again in unison, cooing at her reaction. It was such a different, playful side of her that it made the girls a little shocked.
“Oh my god, you're right! She is!”
“Aw, how adorable!”
“Wendy, why didn’t you tell us sooner!?”
“God!” Wendy shouted as her face went bright red. “Bebe, you jerk!” She groaned as she pushed Bebe away, the blonde snickering in response.
“Hehe, sorry, Wendy! I just couldn’t resist! You’re not mad, right?”
Wendy sighed as she crossed her arms. She wasn’t actually mad, just a little embarrassed. Deep down, she actually kinda appreciated how she could be all soft around her friends, especially Bebe. “No… I’m not mad. Just don’t do it in the hallway again, please?”
“No promises!” Bebe winked, the rest of the girls giggling.
“Ooh, what happened in the hallway?” One of them asked with a smirk.
Bebe opened her mouth to answer but Wendy shot her a sharp, warning glare. “Bebe….”
“Nah, nothing happened, I’m just kidding,” Bebe waved it off before diverting her attention back to the other girls. “Anyway, what were you guys talking about again? The concert?”
“Oh, yeah!” Heidi nodded, “we were talking about what we’re gonna wear. What era are you guys going as? I think I might do Reputation or Folklore.”
“Definitely Lover!” Nichole added excitedly.
Wendy’s shoulders dropped in relief as the topic changed, glad the spotlight was off her.
“I think I'm gonna do Fearless!” Bebe joined in.
“Well, I think you guys already know for me, huh?” Red smirked, making the rest of the girls chuckle.
“What about you, Wendy?” Annie asked, the girls’ eyes turning to her.
“Oh, you definitely should do Speak Now!” Lola suggested, the others nodding in agreement.
“Oh my god, that’s perfect!”
“That’s so you, Wendy!”
“Purple’s so your color!”
Wendy smiled, happy her friends knew her so well. “That’s a great idea, I love that album!”
“Did you guys want to meet at my house after practice? I just got a bracelet making kit, we can all make bracelets for the concert!” Heidi proposed.
“Oh, definitely!” Nichole smiled, the rest of the girls cheerfully agreeing as well.
The rest of practice went really well, with all the girls being really excited and in high spirits as they looked forward to getting ready for the concert together. Wendy especially could feel the love, happy that she had friends she could rely on, even if they messed with her from time to time. She was so glad that she had such an amazing, close group of friends that she always could feel free to be herself around.
Stan took a deep breath as he stood on the doorstep of the Tucker household. He stared up at the front door, Kyle anxiously glancing over at him. Kenny and Cartman stood right behind them, waiting for Stan’s next move.
The four boys were there to pay back Craig for the hundred dollars that they borrowed from him. Well, borrowed was putting it lightly. In Craig’s eyes, it was practically theft.
About a week or so ago the four had barged into Craig’s house, persuaded him to fork over his birthday money on the false claim that they would double his money in one afternoon, and then proceeded to instantly waste all of it on a Peruvian flute band scheme that ended up with all five of them getting arrested and shipped off to Peru. The boys all ended up safely back at home after the whole thing, but Craig still kept pestering them about it, demanding that they give him his money back.
Fed up with Craig constantly bringing the topic up, the four agreed to give Craig a visit to work things out and pay him back. However, none of the boys brought anything near to the amount of money that they owed, instead deciding to go a different route. After they did some thinking, they came up with a series of ideas of how they could get out of this without paying him. It was foolproof. Mostly.
“Stan, are you sure this will work? It seems kinda… immature,” Kyle questioned the boy standing next to him, his eyes shifting to the side in disbelief.
“C’mon Kyle, don’t be a little bitch and wuss out on us,” Cartman scoffed behind him.
“Oh shut up, Cartman!” Kyle shot back.
“Well, we don’t have any other ideas, do we?” Stan pointed out, bringing the group’s attention back to the matter at hand. Kyle said nothing in response with Kenny giving an “uh-uh” and shaking his head. “See? So I’ll apologize and try to talk us out of paying Craig, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll move on to plan B,” Stan continued to explain.
Kyle sighed, still looking hesitant. “Okay, if you say so, Stan. I hope this works, I really don’t want to have to resort to plan B…”
“I don’t either, Kyle, but we have no other options,” Stan replied with a worried frown, going to ring the doorbell. The four turned straight ahead, Craig opening the door after a moment. He eyed all of them, the small hint of interest he had on his face instantly being replaced with irritation as he scanned their faces.
“Oh, great. It’s you guys. What do you want? You here to give me my money?” He asked flatly.
“Hey, Craig. Can we come in for a second?” Stan requested, trying to make his tone sound sincere.
Craig gave him a blank look. “Why.”
“We wanted to talk with you,” Stan clarified.
Craig stared at him skeptically for a second before answering. “Fine,” he moved aside reluctantly as the four walked inside his house.
“Thanks, Craig. We’ll try to make this quick,” Stan assured before looking over to Cartman and giving him a nod. The two removed their beanies, holding them politely in their hands as they looked apologetically at Craig. Stan cleared his throat before speaking, “Craig, we know that we must look like horrible people to you, borrowing your fresh hundred dollars of birthday money and then accidentally getting us all trapped in Peru for a little while-“
“No shit,” Craig interrupted.
Stan ignored him and continued, “-but we just wanted to say that we didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and from the bottoms of our hearts, we’re very sorry. We hope that you can look inside yourself and find it within you to forgive our apology.” Stan mentally gave himself a thumbs up as he finished, thinking that sounded very poetic. But Craig wasn’t buying it at all. He could smell their bullshit from a mile away.
“You didn’t bring the money, did you.” The four said nothing in response, their eyes darting away from him as they refused to answer. Craig sighed in annoyance, “goddamnit, you guys are such assholes.”
Cartman stomped his way over to the front and spoke up, thinking his master persuasion skills could be of use. “Craig, do you know how hard it is to raise a hundred dollars in this economy?” He was still holding his beanie pitifully in his hands.
“Well there’s four of you, so no, it shouldn’t be that hard,” Craig shrugged, “you can just divide it between you guys so each of you only needs to give twenty-five dollars.” He pointed between the four of them for emphasis. Stan and Kyle looked at each other, trying to ignore how none of them thought up that easy solution.
Cartman resisted the urge to scoff at him. “Well, Kenny’s poor, have you thought about that, Craig? You ignorant, classist asshole!” He yelled, dragging Kenny by the arm to stand next to him. “Look at him, Craig! Look at how poor he is. He can barley afford to get by day to day,” Cartman stressed. Kenny instantly got the point Cartman was making and stared right at Craig, giving him his best puppy dog eyes. “Twenty-five dollars is probably what his piece of crap family makes a year!”
Kenny instantly dropped the act and shot Cartman a glare. “Dude, the fuck?” He muffled making Cartman let him go and push him away.
Craig was unfazed by all of this, but still tried to reason with them. “Okay, well then how about the money you got from selling the flute band CDs?” He suggested.
“The government confiscated all that,” Stan answered.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So you see, Craig? We really tried our best, but there's nothing we can really do. We’re really sorry for all the trouble we caused you, we hope that you can just forgive us and put this all behind you,” Stan put on the sincere voice again, but Craig just stared at him blankly.
“Cool. I don't forgive you and I want my hundred dollars still.”
Stan and Kyle looked at him with bewildered expressions. “W-What? But we said we were sorry,” Kyle asked, puzzled.
Craig shook his head. “I don’t care. If you were really sorry, you would give me my money.”
The four gave him annoyed glares. “Dude, c’mon now you’re just being a dick,” Stan argued.
“Yeah!” Kenny agreed through his parka.
“I’m being a dick?” Craig questioned, his voice still monotone. “You four assholes wasted my birthday money and I'm the dick for wanting it back.”
“Well, yeah?” Kyle stated like the answer was clear.
“Obviously!” Cartman huffed, “God, Craig, all you care about is money! Stop being so materialistic, asshole!”
Craig blinked slowly. “So now I’m a materialistic asshole for wanting the hundred dollars that you guys stole from me back instead of a half-assed apology.”
Stan’s shoulders dropped. “Hey, I thought my apology was really good!” He frowned.
“It was good! don’t listen to him, Stan, he’s just being a heartless dick,” Kyle comforted his friend, putting a hand on his back.
Craig rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Either give me my hundred dollars or get out of my house.”
The others exchanged all-knowing looks, Cartman and Stan putting their hats back on. Craig wasn’t budging. Looks like it was time to turn to the next agreed plan of action: plan B. “Um, Craig, we can’t give that to you. So you either accept our apology and agree to drop this, or we will…. make you accept our apology,” Stan stated calmly, staring right at Craig.
Craig shot him a confused scowl. “W-What? The fuck does that mean? Are you threatening me?” He barked out, his voice raising as he took a step back defensively.
“No, no!” Stan held up his hands to show that he meant no harm but then paused for a second as he thought further. “Well uh, sorta.”
Craig watched as the four slowly inched closer, feeling a slight shiver go down his spine. “The hell do you have planned? Are you gonna punch me or something?” He asked, starting to panic a little bit. Craig usually had no problem standing his ground, but he knew that he had no chance going against four people at once. Plus his parents and his sister weren’t home, leaving Craig home alone.
“What?” Kyle raised a brow, the boys’ movements freezing.
“No, dude! Of course not!” Stan affirmed.
Craig’s shoulders dropped slightly, feeling a little relieved. “Oh. So uh, what are you gonna do?”
No answer as Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny shared another look once again, not really knowing what to say. They didn't want to give away their plan. “Craig, look, do you accept our apology or not?” Stan pressed, ignoring Craig’s question.
Craig tensed up in annoyance, a glare on his face. “What? No way, of course I don’t. You guys are thieving dickholes that owe me a hundred dollars,” he huffed.
Stan sighed. “Fine, then. I guess you leave us no choice. Cartman?”
Craig raised a brow as Cartman suddenly walked over and stood behind him, quickly slipping his upper arms underneath Craig’s and pulling them up so Craig’s arms were restrained to the side. “Gah- the hell are you doing? Let go of me, you fat fuck!” Craig yelled as he struggled, trying to break free of Cartman’s grip. He looked up to see Kyle, Kenny, and Stan slowly walking towards him. Craig continued his failed efforts to wriggle free, trying his best to not let any fear show in his eyes as he watched Kyle crack his knuckles.
“We didn’t want to do this, Craig. But you left us no option,” Stan warned one final time. Craig closed his eyes as they all shot their hands out, preparing for them to go against what they said and start hitting him or something. But what he felt instead was nothing like that at all. Rather than pain, Craig felt their fingers gently squeezing and wiggling against his sides, ribs, and stomach. It didn't hurt, but it was annoying. Wondering what the hell was going on, Craig slowly opened his eyes.
“What… What are you doing?” He questioned as he watched the three poke and scribble fingers all across his torso. Their determined looks suddenly faded as their fingers stilled, realizing their method wasn’t working.
Stan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he noticed Craig’s straight face. “…T-Tickling you?” Stan answered, freezing as realization set in. “Wait, Craig, are you not ticklish?” He asked frantically, suddenly feeling a little panicked.
Craig glanced away awkwardly then glanced back. ...This was their plan? Seriously? “Uh, no,” he responded, the three looking mortified at his answer.
“Shit!” Kenny yelled out.
“Goddamnit, I knew this wouldn’t work!” Kyle groaned and ripped his hands away, burying his face in his palms. His cheeks were already feeling hot as embarrassment started to set in. He felt stupid to have even considered doing this idea.
“Kyle, hold on-” Stan started to speak but got cut off by a loud, dramatic scoff from Cartman.
“Ugh, nice going, Stan! I knew we never should have gone with your gay-ass plan!” He chastised, still holding Craig back.
"Shut up, Cartman!" Stan shot him a glare before reaching out to Kyle, not losing hope in his idea just yet. “Dude, c’mon, Craig has to be lying. There’s no way he’s not ticklish at least somewhere. Everyone’s at least a little ticklish, right?” He asked, turning to Kenny and Cartman for confirmation. The two shrugged their shoulders at him.
“Well I’m not,” Cartman stated boldly, earning him an eye-roll from the rest of the kids.
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, maybe we aren’t trying the right spots,” Stan suggested, “maybe he is ticklish but just in certain places.”
“I don’t know, I think some people just aren’t ticklish, Stan,” Kyle replied. The two boys conversing lead them to miss how Craig shivered a bit when they mentioned trying other spots. What Stan and Kyle along with the rest of the guys didn’t know was that Craig was lying. He was ticklish, in fact quite so. But he was able to build up somewhat of a tolerance to it, managing to trick his friends at school into thinking that he wasn’t ticklish by being stone-faced and having no reaction. It took a specific kind of touch in certain spots to actually get a reaction out of him, something that Craig hoped the four wouldn’t find out.
“I’m not ticklish. Now let me go already,” Craig demanded, wriggling against Cartman’s hold.
“Not yet,” Stan held up a hand. “If you aren’t ticklish then you wouldn’t mind if we tested it again, right?” He quizzed.
“Fine. Whatever,” Craig gave an annoyed look, trying to ignore the sudden rush of fear he felt wash over him. They seemed really persistent on this. It was going to take everything in him to not crack.
Stan dug in once again, Kenny following suit. They each took a half, Stan on Craig’s right as Kenny stood at his left, spidering fingers all across his body. Stan drummed fingers over Craig’s stomach and part of his side while Kenny squeezed and poked at Craig’s other side along with his ribs. Kyle watched them from afar, still a little weary to join in.
Craig felt relieved, he was holding up good so far. No laughter managed to escape him yet, except for a few soft titters whenever he felt Stan’s fingertips over his stomach lighten and whenever he felt a finger or two poke into his underarms for a second. But luckily his laughter was so breathy and quiet that the guys didn’t seem to notice.
“You done yet?” Craig asked with a blank face.
The guys looked up at him in disbelief as they stopped once again. “What? Seriously? Still nothing?” Stan puzzled.
“I told you. I’m not ticklish, dipshits, now let me go and give me my money back,” Craig reiterated.
“See, Stan? C’mon, let’s just try something else,” Kyle gestured, wanting to drop this and move on already. But Stan still wasn’t convinced.
“No, not yet! I know you’re faking it, Craig! Just let it out already!” Stan called out, his fingers diving back in to continue his attack. He squeezed his sides, poked at his tummy, and drilled into each individual rib, but still nothing. Stan was just about to let up until he inched his fingers up into Craig’s underarms, deciding to try there again as a last-ditch effort.
Craig bit his lip as he felt fingers scratching against the hollows of his armpits through his jacket, desperately fighting to not let any noises loose. He was so close, he couldn’t break now. But then Stan dug in harder, causing a reluctant spill of monotone chuckles to escape him as he twitched against Cartman’s grip. Everyone’s eyes widened at the sound, their heads turning to face him.
“Hey, I knew it! Craig is ticklish!” Stan announced with a triumphant smirk on his face.
“What!?” Kyle exclaimed.
“Ha! You fuckin’ asshole, Craig! Really thought you could get away with it, huh?” Cartman laughed right into Craig’s ear making him wince.
“W-What!? No! I’m not ticklish!” Craig tried to argue despite feeling his cheeks go pink and laughing just a second ago.
Kyle ran back over, experimentally digging fingers into Craig’s ribs unannounced. The redhead gasped dramatically as Craig let out a steady stream of dull giggles. “You lying bastard!”
“Shuhut uhup! Stohop thihiHIHIHIS!” Craig cried out, his laughter only increasing as Stan and Kenny dug back in. Kyle moved to the side to give the other two more room, squeezing and scribbling fingers up and down Craig’s side and ribs.
“We’re sorry it had to come to this, Craig, but we have no other options!” Stan yelled as he drummed his fingers over the other side of Craig’s ribs that Kyle wasn't occupying and scratched at Craig's underarm making him squeak. Kenny meanwhile went for Craig’s stomach, spidering his fingers across his tummy and over the tops of his hips. His light touch seemed to be really effective.
“Yohou cohould juhust pahay mehe bahack, yohou dihicks!” Craig hissed through his nasally chuckles, snorting when he felt fingers brush over his hips.
“You really gonna insult us right now, Craig?” Stan pressed as he dug into Craig’s ribs a little harder. Craig said nothing in response, his laughter overtaking his thoughts and words. He squirmed side to side to try to get away, but it was useless as fingers were prodding and scribbling on every side of him.
“Aw, he’s so ticklish!” Kenny snickered as he continued to lightly flutter his fingers over Craig’s stomach making the poor kid flush bright red.
“Uhugh, shuhuhut uhuhup!” Craig groaned, wishing he could crawl into his jacket and hide there forever. God, this was so embarrassing. Craig tried his absolute hardest to keep his ticklishness a secret, with only his family and Tweek knowing about it. Craig always hated how sensitive he was and didn’t like to laugh that often. He was a little insecure about his crooked teeth, so the idea of laughing full force with his mouth wide open was not the most favorable of ideas. Well at least Craig was good at hiding his ticklishness. Well, until now at least. He had a pretty good record going, it only seemed fitting that these four assholes were the ones that ruined it.
“Hey, guys?” Cartman innocently spoke up as the three continued their tickly attack, just noticing something now.
“What, Cartman?” Stan asked, still scribbling fingers into Craig’s bottom ribs making him thrash beneath his fingertips.
“Why am I always the one who holds them back while you guys tickle them?”
Stan, Kyle, and Kenny shared a glance. “Well... because you suck at tickling,” Kyle responded.
“What?! Shut up, Kyle! No I don’t!” Cartman huffed out angrily, “fuck you, I’m awesome at tickling! See?” He let go of one of Craig's arms to dig his fingers into Craig’s armpit. Cartman scribbled and squeezed at the spot roughly making Craig burst out into another peal of loud, nasally laughter as he shot his now-free arm down against his side.
“Yohohu fuhuhucking ahahasshoholes! Stohohop ihit ahalreahady!” Craig called out through his chuckles. He didn’t know much longer he could take of this, the tickles along with the incessant arguing was really annoying.
“Not until you agree to accept our apology!” Kyle demanded as he slipped his hand under Craig's jacket to squeeze and poke at his side.
“Noho wahay, dihickheheads!” Craig persisted, snorts starting to interrupt his laughter. He still was set on getting back his hundred dollars, he wasn’t going to give in to such a childish thing like tickles no matter how embarrassingly effective it was.
“Fine then, have it your way, Craig! We warned you!” Stan yelled out as he shot his fingers up into Craig’s other armpit. Craig let out a loud shriek as both his underarms were now under fire. Okay never mind, scratch that, maybe Craig would have to give in to something childish like tickles. He tried to mentally weigh out his options in his head, but it was very difficult to think when there were seven hands tickling you at once. He had no choice, he had to throw in the towel.
“JEHEHEUHUHUS, fihihine! Yohohou dohohon’t hahahave to pa- AHAHAHHA! y-yohou dohohon't hahave toho pahahay mehehe bahahack! Juhuhust fuhuhuckihing stohohop!” The four stopped their movements as soon as Craig gave the word and backed away to give him some space. Craig let out some final breathy giggles, covering his red-hot face with his hands.
The reality of the situation started to set in as the boys watched Craig recover, the kid clutching his stomach as he breathed heavily. Stan couldn’t but help but feel a little bad as he watched the usually unbothered and apathetic guy from school be all red in the face and struggle to regain his composure. Maybe they had gone a little too far? Stan looked over to Kyle and Kenny, feeling relieved when he noticed that they had the same sympathetic look on their faces.
“Um… y-you okay, Craig?” Stan spoke up.
“The hell do you think?” Craig barked out sharply. Stan didn’t take it personally, knowing that he'd just been through a lot.
“Uh, if it helps, we can give you whatever money we have on us,” Stan suggested, glancing to the others for approval. They all nodded in agreement, except for Cartman.
“Ey! This wasn’t part of the pla- OW!” He went to protest but was interrupted by a swift kick to the back of the shin followed by a stern look from Kyle.
Craig looked Stan over. Seemed like he meant it. “Fine, whatever,” Craig mumbled as stood up straight and brushed himself off. It was better than nothing, he figured.
The four dug into their pockets, fishing for anything they had on them. Cartman stated that he left all his money at home, but was proved wrong after Kenny shoved his hand into Cartman's jacket pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill along with a few ones. The four ended up with a combined total of thirty-seven dollars and some change after pooling together their money. Stan meekly offered it to Craig, who snatched it out of his hand.
Craig sighed defeatedly and shook his head as he flipped through the dollar bills and coins, counting it up in his head. “Fine. This is enough,” he said looking up at them.
“Really?” Stan perked up. He was a little shocked Craig was letting them off this easily.
“Sure, whatever,” Craig shrugged as he stuffed the money in his pocket. “I don’t care anymore just fucking get out of my house.”
The four exchanged looks. “You sure, Craig?” Kyle went to confirm.
“Yes, just leave already,” Craig brought a hand to his forehead in annoyance as he pointed at the door. “And never speak of this again.”
The boys quickly walked out the front door as Craig slammed it behind them. As soon as it shut, they all jumped up and cheered excitedly, except for Cartman who was still mourning the loss of his pocket change.
“So that went pretty well!” Stan declared happily as he high-fived Kenny, the four boys stepping off the Tuckers’ doorstep and starting to walk down the street.
“Pfft not for me! I lost thirteen freaking dollars!”
Kyle rolled his eyes at Cartman’s complaint. “Oh boo-hoo! I lost fifteen dollars and you don’t see me whining about it!”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” Cartman scoffed as he pointed an accusing finger into Kyle’s chest.
Kyle raised a brow and roughly shoved off Cartman’s hand, “the hell do you mean by that, fatass?”
“You know what I mean, Kahl! Don’t act stupid! You know perfectly well that….”
The two continued to bicker again as always, making Stan and Kenny sigh as they continued down the sidewalk. Craig was meanwhile still standing with his hand on his face in his living room, trying to convince himself that the whole affair that just happened wasn’t real. He had to have just imagined that, this was way too embarrassing and stupid to have been real. Right?
…Who was he kidding. Of course that was real. Only those four morons would be childish enough to have tickled him out of his hundred dollars instead of just paying it back. Well at least no one was around to witness that whole thing. And at least Craig still got thirty-seven dollars out of it, along with a firm reminder to never trust those four assholes ever again.m
Hhhggghhgb I did it guys I wrote the South Park fic about them discovering my blog (´-ω-`) I’m still not the best writer so I hope it doesn’t sound too off or weird >< i also couldn’t figure out how to do Kenny’s muffles so they’re not in here. sorry if the ending kinda sucks 😭
anyways-
Who tf is matchacowbee??
- this is a tickle fic so if that’s not ur thing bye
- cw for minors swearing
———————————————————————
The four boys stared at the computer as each of their faces went red.
“Who the FUCK is matchacowbee? Seriously you guys, this is not funny.” Cartman yelled.
“Whoever is doing this better fess up soon!”
As Cartman was growling at the others, Stan and Kenny looked over at the computer in a sense of shock and confusion.
“Uhh, this is all just fake right?” None of this is true right guys?” Stan said quietly.
“Of course it’s not fucking true! These psychos made me sound like a little pussy!” Cartman shouted.
“Relax dude, let’s just calm down for a second. This is obviously just someone fucking with us, right Kyle?” Stan responded.
“…uh Kyle?”
The three boys looked over at the redhead.
Kyle’s face was flushed with a shade of bright pink, as he looked at the computer mortified.
For Kyle, this wasn’t just some blog talking about how sensitive and ticklish he was, this was his deepest secret being exposed to anyone. Kyle couldn’t take any type of tickles, and this was dangerous information for his friends to know. A new wave of embarrassment sent a chill down his spine and he covered his face with his hands.
“Hey, hey! Kyle you good?” Kenny said. Reaching a hand out, he pokes Kyle in the side.
“Gah!! H-hey Kenny!” Kyle jerks away from Kenny and then scrambled to the other side of Cartmans room.
“Well it looks like the rumors about Kyle are true.” Cartman sneered
“No it’s not fatass!” Kyle said with a red face.
“Let’s find out” Kenny said as he began walking towards Kyle while wiggling his fingers at him.
“Kenny, you… you wouldn’t..” Kyle said as he backed away into a corner, and nervously sunk to the floor.
Cartman and Stan returned their gaze to the computer, as shrieks of laughter erupted in the background.
“This is so not cool I’m gonna fucking kill these people” Cartman said.
Stan thought about the idea of Wendy tickling him and his face went red as well. He was embarrassed to admit it, but Stan was indeed ticklish as well. The thought of his girlfriend wrecking him gave him butterflies in his stomach. If Wendy ever found out his weakness, he wouldn’t know what to do.
“KENNEHEHEY!! GAHA- GHEHET OFF OF MEHEE!”
Kenny had his hands under Kyles jacket and was running his fingers along his sides, until he hit a more sensitive spot on his ribs.
“Heh, sweet. Kyles totally a ticklish little pussy.” Cartman said, as he looked at Kyle wriggling underneath Kenny on the floor.
“S-shut uhuhup Cartmahan!” Kyle let out with a fit of giggles.
Stan walked over and pulled Kenny off Kyle.
“Yeah Cartman, it said we were all sensitive. Check it out.” Stan said as he scribbled his fingers underneath Kenny’s arms. Kenny thrashed around in Stan’s grip as muffled giggles poured out of his parka.
“Hehe see! Kenny’s ticklish too. It’s not just Kyle.” Stan said as he slipped his hands lower, meeting Kenny’s sides.
“A-aAhaHa! Stahahan stohohop!!” Kenny cried out. Then he let out a loud squeal as Stan squeezed his hips.
“Whatever guys this is totally gay. At least I’m not a whiny little bitch like you guys.” Cartman protested.
Stan rolled his eyes as he let Kenny go from his hold.
“..Lets just forget that we ever saw that okay…” Kyle said shyly.
“I agree, this is total bull-“ as Stan was cut off from his sentence, Kenny tackled him onto Cartmans bed.
“Whoa Kenny what do you think, wait WAIT!!” Kenny began scritching around Stan’s navel and belly button. “whaHahAt theheh ehehell!!”
Kenny grinned at Stan. “Someone mentioned this was a sensitive spot of yours Stan.”
As Kenny tickled Stan, he couldn’t help but think back to some of the things he had read about himself. Him and his siblings did have tickle fights from time to time. So wrecking Stan and Kyle was easier with his past experience. But like the others, Kenny couldn’t deny his ticklishness either.
As Stan squirmed around on top of the bed, Cartman glared at them and Kyle looked away embarrassed.
“Okay all you fags need to get out of my house right now. Go make out somewhere else.”
Kenny quits tickling Stan, and pulls him up off the bed. Cartman ushers them to the door.
The three friends exit Cartmans house. Stan and Kenny in front, as Kyle trailed behind, still visibly embarrassed. Stan and Kenny both gave him some pokes on his sides to try and snap him out of it.
As Cartman watched them walk away from his front door he sighed. He then shut the door and prepared to get ready to go to bed. Then suddenly, he felt a squeeze on his side.
“AY!” He whipped his head around and looked up.
Ms. Cartman smiles sweetly at her son. “Eric did you have fun with your little friends today? I heard a lot of laughter up there.”
Cartman looks down at the floor, "Yeah I guess, they were acting all gay tickling eachother."
His mom leans down to give her son a quick kiss on his cheek. She wraps her arms around him and gives him a hug.
"Ugh meeem stop!" Cartman tried to squirm out of her grip, until he suddenly felt a ticklish sensation on his stomach.
"Aw is my little muffin also ticklish?" Liane said as she tickled her son’s sides and stomach.
“N-naha no NO! Gehet off me meheheem!” Cartman said while pushing away her hands.
He hated to admit it but even Cartman couldn’t deny that he wasn’t immune to tickles. He kinda sorta liked it in a way, coming from his mom only though. With the other boys, he was definitely going to consider tickling them as a torture method. Just as long as they never tried it on him.
Turns out that all the blogs the four boys had seen, weren’t totally wrong about them.
bro where do you get so much creativity and love for your hcs/fics? because Jesus-
*chokes casually*
that’s a very good question!!! thank you for the ask coke!! 🥹
for the ideas, they’re just random things that just poof into my head at random times! sometimes, i’ll just get random inspiration from a random thing i see- and my brain just starts spitting out content!
(like for my b for broflovski fic- i saw a tiktok of matt and trey’s basketball and i just started thinking “baseball…baseball 3 strikes…kyle and stan have played baseball…baseball but tickles?” and it grew from there!)
when im writing hcs for a specific characters- i usually try to get into the swing of things. i think up a few hcs- and eventually im on a roll. its really fun when you think of one hc- and then suddenly it morphs into even more, more detailed hcs🥹
my brain works a LOT faster than my tippity tapping typing fingers- so i try to take it slow- so i don’t forget any of the ideas that i have before i manage to write them down. (this has happened WAY too many times :( )
as for the love of it- i really love these little guys🥹🥹🥹 and even when it’s not about South Park; i love building a story and fleshing it out! im a theatre kid (oh no!!! sorry!!!) so im a huge sucker for characterization! (and catchy little show tunes)
i think my favorite part when writing is the dialogue- since i love to talk through my writing. sometimes i read my dialogue out loud- because it helps me see if what i wrote makes any sense. i also like knowing how things are said when i write them- so reading out loud really helps!
when i was writing b is for broflovski- i can’t put into words HOW MUCH i was thinking about it <333 it was genuinely SUCH a fun experience- i would be doing something completely unrelated and suddenly id just start thinking about it!
and of course- knowing people actually look forward to seeing what im writing makes me even more excited 🥹🥹🥹
i hope this made sense!!! it’s kinda hard to explain- but i wanted to try!!! thanks again for the ask coke🥹
