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alwaysstyleish · 1 day ago

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Sleepovers and Feelings Chapter 8

a/n: this is the final chapter!!

Was it noticeable that Stan was panicking about this? Very.

His room was suspiciously clean, his bed was made, his lump of laundry that needed to be folded was shoved out of sight, and Cartman was hiding under Stan’s bed for “emotional support”. Stan was debating what CD he wanted to play in the background.

“Dude,” Stan walked over to Cartman’s spot under the bed, a CD in each hand. “Which one should I play?” Stan asked the boy under the bed.

Cartman peeked out from under the bed. “Well. I can’t see the CDs, dickwad.”

Stan rolled his eyes, mumbling something that sounded like “lazy bitch”. “Uhh, I have AM by the Arctic Monkeys,” He showed Cartman the first CD he had in his hand. “And Conspiracy of One by The Offspring.”

Cartman blinked. “So, you’re making me choose between gay and gayer?”

Stan scoffed at this. “Just pick one, assface.”

“Do the second one, it matches your homosexuality,” Cartman answered. Stan nodded, walking away to put the CD in the player. “I don’t want to hear some whiny British dudes complain about their sad love life.”

Stan laughed at that comment. That laughter died quickly when footsteps were heard coming up the stairs.

Stan felt like he was about to faint from nerves. Or was it nausea? Whatever it was, he shoved down his throat, alongside Cartman shoving himself back under the bed.

The door opened, Kyle walking in casually while greeting Stan. “Hey dude, what’s up?” the redhead glanced around the room, surprised by the cleanliness of it. “Did you clean in here or something?”

Stan let out an extremely awkward laugh, cheeks burning. “No! I mean– yeah, I, um– I got tired of it being so messy.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, muttering “weird,” under his breath before sitting on the corner of the bed.

Stan stood there awkwardly, thinking about his next words for a brief moment.

“I got you something.” Stan told his crush. He grabbed the Target bag off the floor, sheepishly handing it to the redhead.

Kyle lifted his gaze off the floor, peering up at Stan. He took the bag from Stan with cautious hands, peering inside. ”You got me a diffuser?” The grin he had on his face was apparent in his voice.

Stan nodded, a smile slipping on his face without realizing. “Yeah, I–uh, I knew you wanted a diffuser for a long time, and I saw it and I thought of you. So, I bought it.”

Kyle stood up and walked over to his super-best-friend, giving him a hug. “That was really sweet, thank you.” He whispered, face buried in Stan's shoulder.

“I have something else to tell you” Stan whispered back.

Kyle pulled back to look at Stan. “What is it?”

Okay, it was now or never.

Stan took a sharp inhale before speaking. “I like you.” he blurted out. “Like, like, like you. I’ve had these feelings since forever, and I’m sorry if this fucks everything up, but I thought you should know. And because I've been going completely insane thinking about you. I like your smile and your laugh and the way–”

Kyle shut him up with a kiss.

Stan’s breath hitched, all his thoughts going into a grinding halt. The only thing he could think about was the boy in front of him, the boy he was kissing. Kyle’s hands were on his cheeks, the taste of strawberry lip balm infiltrating Stan’s mouth. Stan’s hands went up to the redhead’s hair, feeling dizzy from the euphoria he was feeling.

Kyle pulled away, just enough for the two to catch their breaths. “Did you get the hint?” he asked, voice still a little breathy.

Stan nodded, panting slightly from the kiss and the shock that still ran through his veins. “I think so.”

Kyle chuckled, a dopey smile on his face. “Good. I wanted to do that to you since I noticed you bleached your hair.”

Stan laughed as well, hands still buried in Kyle’s hair. “I did it for you .”

They were in their own little bubble until the sound of a loud squeal was heard from under the bed.

Kyle whipped his head around, staring at Cartman under the bed.

“What the fuck!?” He yelled, making eye contact with the boy under the bed, who had a phone in his hand.

Stan shut his lips tightly. In all honesty, he forgot Cartman was under the bed.

Kyle turned over to Stan, face red with embarrassment. “How do you explain that? ” he questioned the blond, hands moving from his face to his shoulders like he was about to shake the answers out of him.

Stan shrugged, being mildly scared of Kyle at the moment. “I kinda forgot he was there.”

The redhead looked at him, absolutely baffled. “How the fuck do you forget that you have a whole-ass human under your bed?”

Cartman just cackled from under the bed, looking at the two lovebirds. “You’re welcome for the emotional support, Stan!” he said between fits of laughter.

Kyle looked over at Cartman, face burning. “Emotional support!? You fucking filmed us kissing, fatass!”

“Actually…” Cartman paused for ‘dramatic effect.’ “I’m on FaceTime with Kenny. We saw the whole thing.”

“What!?” Kyle shrieked, lunging for Cartman with full intention to rip out the bastard’s hair.

Cartman screamed back, rolling out from under the bed with fear. “Kenny’s crying! He said that true love’s real!”

Kenny called out through the phone in Cartman’s hand. “You guys are so cute! True love is real! Me and Bebe bet how long you guys would stay in the closet, I’m gonna be rich! ”

Stan just stared, looking at the warzone which was his room.

Kyle looked at Cartman, tackling him with full force. “You’re so dead!” He yelled out, hands pulling his hair.

Stan decided to step in, pulling the redhead away from Cartman. “Kyle, baby, murder isn't legal.” he grunted out, arms hooked around his waist as an attempt to pull him off.

Cartman was laughing way too hard for somebody who was about to get their ass beat. Kenny’s voice rang out again. “Pet names already ? I’m screen recording all of this and writing a fanfiction about your guy’s future.”

Stan was able to pry Kyle off, who was still kicking his feet. “Let go of me!” he yelled out, still wanting to do harm.

“If I give you another kiss, will you stop trying to fight Cartman?” Stan asked Kyle, still holding him in the air. Kyle nodded begrudgingly, a soft kiss to the cheek making his face pink.

Kenny and Cartman squealed in unison, with the natural blond yelling out, “True love sighting!” through the phone. “I regret nothing .” Cartman said after Kenny.

Cartman got himself off the floor, dusting his arm as he did so. “Well, I’m out, fags.” As he walked away, he turned to Stan once again. “And you owe me big time, Stan.” He walked out of the room, Kenny yelling “bye, bros!” before the door shut, leaving the two there.

As Stan placed the redhead down, Kyle looked at him. “So… will you be my boyfriend?”

The blond nodded, feeling like the luckiest man on the planet. “On one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t attempt homicide in my room again.”

#south park #south park fan fiction #south park style #ao3 fanfic #sp style #style #ao3

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alwaysstyleish · 1 day ago

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Sleepovers and Feelings Chapter 7

The drive back was filled with Cartman’s unusual music taste. It went from mainstream pop to satanic black metal. Whatever the fuck it was, it was giving Stan whiplash.

“Dude, can you not play Espresso when I’m mentally preparing for all the ways this can go wrong?” Stan asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry, I thought it matched your gay panic energy.” Cartman was able to say through a mouthful of barbeque potato chips.

Stan looked at him with a face of utter confusion. “How the fuck does Sabrina Carpenter match my ‘gay panic’ energy?”

Cartman stopped at a red light. “You know, ‘cause of that one lyric. ‘Now he’s, thinkin’ ‘bout me every night oh,’” Cartman sang along with the car’s speakers. “Thought that lyric said enough.”

Stan bursted out laughing. “You’re so fucking stupid,” Yeah, he was laughing now, but in fifteen minutes he was going to let Cartman do his hair and ask his crush out. The chances of his sanity still being there were slim.

Cartman snorted. “Says the one who’s about to bleach gay panic into his scalp.”

“Says the one who’s gonna help me.”

Cartman pulled into the Marshes driveway. “We’re here, gaywad.”

Stan gripped onto the Target bag like it was going to disappear if he let it go. Though he wasn’t very religious, Stan whispered a quiet prayer, hoping that it all worked out in some sick and twisted way.

Cartman turned off the car and patted Stan on his back, taking him out of his trance. “Get the fuck out of my car. You might give me gaywad-titis if you stay in for too long.”

Stan opened the door and got out of the car, gripping the bag tight. “It’s your mom’s car, dick.”

“But I’m her son, so it’s mine too.”

Stan groaned with impatience, he didn’t know how much longer he could put up with Cartman’s shit. “Shut the fuck up.” he muttered hastily as he unlocked the front door with his keys.

Cartman didn’t respond to that.

* in Stan’s bedroom*

Stan was sitting on his bed, biting his nails as he was waiting for Cartman to finish preparing the bleach.

“Umm, dude, I think I put too much water in the mix.” Cartman said from the floor, the sound of plastic against plastic filling the room.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. Is he fucking serious right now? He thought. “It’s fine, dude, it’ll still work.” Stan said, regretting every choice that led him here at that moment.

Cartman lifted the brush, letting the product drip. “Eh, still works.” He grabbed the box, dumping out the rest of the items in the box. “Oh, look! A pair of gloves so I won’t burn my fingers off.”

“Well, put them on!” Stan yelled, his agitation and nerves taking over. He felt bad for snapping at Cartman, it wasn’t his fault he was having gay panic, but he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with this crap.

Cartman glanced at Stan, raising an eyebrow as he did so. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” He questioned. It wasn’t often his friend snapped like this, and he wasn’t gonna lie, it was kinda scary when he did.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking,” He sighed. “I’m – I’ve been nervous, okay?”

“I can tell, you’ve been vibrating like a rose toy since Target.”

Stan laughed despite himself. “Dude, I can’t with you.”

“What? I’m just saying, if you’re this scared now, I can't wait to see you actually talk to that ginger twink. You’re gonna blow chunks again.” Cartman replied with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Stan said jokingly. “Just bleach my hair.”

“You bet your gay ass I am.” Jested Cartman, grabbing the small plastic cup of hair dye and the applicator brush as he sat on the bed, behind Stan. He mixed the concoction of bleach together with the brush, feeling like a mad scientist. Cartman scooped a generous amount of the dye onto the brush, holding it towards a chunk of Stan’s hair. “Ready for this?”

Stan sat still, which Cartman took as a yes. He grabbed a chunk of Stan’s hair, sloppily adding dye to the hair with the brush.

“Son of a bitch, that burns!” Stan hissed in pain. “You’re not supposed to add it on the scalp!”

Cartman raised his hands in defence, even though Stan couldn’t see him. “My bad, Brad Mondo! I’m not a hair dresser!”

“You can read the directions on where to add the dye.”

“Alright, shut your gay ass up.”

The room was quiet after that, with the exception of the occasional crinkling of the gloves and sound of the dye being mixed.

After a while, Cartman broke the silence. “This is so gonna be your glow up era. Going to have Kyle falling in your arms with this dye job.”

Stan snorted dryly, humored by this. “More like falling over laughing.”

Pause.

“Do you think Kyle actually likes me?” Stan asked softly, insecurity taking over. “Like this isn't a small crush he’ll get over in a few weeks?”

“Dude, listen to me,” Cartman said, tone more serious. “That Jew has been down bad for you since, like, seventh grade. If you weren’t so blinded by your homosexualness, maybe you’d see it."

Stan sighed. “I do see it. It’s just…” He paused, thinking about the best way to phrase it. “I’m scared if he does say yes, and we do date; he’ll get over me in a few weeks.”

“It’s gonna work out, trust me. You guys are so obviously in love with each other, it’s embarrassing to go out in public with both of you.”

“How do you know?”

“I see you guys hold hands under the table at lunch.”

Stan’s face turned bright red. “I–uh–um,” He stammered, feeling exposed. “It’s a comfort thing, alright?”

“Oh, really?” Cartman teased, raising his eyebrows suggestively while pulling the brush away, wrapping a towel around Stan’s head. “Find comfort in the fact that you two are in love with each other?”

“Look, it’s not in that way. It’s just that… we find comfort in a little physical touch.” Stan said shyly, covering his cheeks with his hands. “Nothing gay with that, right?”

Cartman nodded sarcastically. “ Sure. ” He deadpanned as he pulled out his phone, setting a timer for thirty minutes. “Now, let’s see if you won’t have another panic attack about that ginger twink for half an hour.”

*thirty minutes later.*

Stan had the towel out of his hair, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Dude, does it look bad?” he questioned, running his hand through the freshly bleached hair.

Cartman side-eyed him from his room, looking at him. “You look like if Draco Malfoy was suicidal." He answered nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Stan groaned, rethinking his life choices he made in the past twenty-four hours. “Just what I needed. Suicidal British dude core.”

Cartman looked at the fake blond, trying to make his tone sound lighter. “But who knows? Maybe he’s into blondes who look like they shop at Hot Topic and Spencer’s.”

Stan looked at Cartman with a look of pure, raw, confusion. “Is that supposed to be an insult or a complement?”

Cartman shrugged again. “You tell me. You’re the one trying to get your ass railed by a Jew.”

“Speaking of that..” Stan trailed off, a look of debation on his face. “Should I text him and see if he wants to come over?”

Cartman looked at him, face full of mischief. “ Now we’re talking. What do you have to lose?”

“My sanity and our friendship.”

“Okay, but other than that?”

Stan shrugged.

“Exactly. So do it.”

Cartman walked over to Stan, grabbing his phone out of his hoodie pocket. The blond saw his phone being snatched out of his pocket, grabbing it back in an instant.

“Okay, I'll text him.” Stan told Cartman, who had a smug grin on his face.

6:55 pm, lame ass kyle, mallrat supreme.

mallrat supreme: hey dude

< wanna come over?

lame ass kyle: like right now??

mallrat supreme: 👍

lame ass kyle: i’ll be there in ten.

mallrat supreme: alr

Stan took a deep breath. “Okay, I need to lock the fuck in. He’s coming in ten minutes.”

Cartman nodded. “You go, girl.” he bantered, raising his fist in the air.

“Can you stay when he comes?” Stan asked, ignoring Cartman’s comment. “For emotional support.”

Cartman nodded. “I have to be there for this.”

Stan nodded. In ten minutes, he was either gonna have a boyfriend, or lose the greatest friendship of his life.

It was a big gamble.

#south park #south park fan fiction #south park style #sp style #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author

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alwaysstyleish · 1 day ago

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Sleepovers and Feelings chapter 6

2: 27 pm ikey, kyley

ikey: i saw your bf here.

kyley: what was he doing????

ikey: buying bleach for his minion ass hair

< probably trying to impress you

kyley: at least he’s touching it up.

<...

< what did you say to him?

ikey: i told him what you said abt his hair 🤗🤗

kyley: BRO WTF

< HE PROBABLY HATES ME KNOW

< FUCK YOU

< IF HE NEVER TALKS TO ME AGAIN I’M BLAMING YOU

< 🖕🖕🖕

ikey: 🖕🖕🖕

#ao3 writer #south park #south park fan fiction #south park style #ao3 fanfic #sp style #ao3 #style

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alwaysstyleish · 9 days ago

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fanfic writers coming up with ideas on how to torture

kyle broflovski

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alwaysstyleish · 15 days ago

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Style gay panic...?

coughing baby vs hydrogen bomb

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alwaysstyleish · 15 days ago

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why don’t you like kyman?

i do think that cartman does have a menacing crush on him, but it’s like “he bullies you because he likes you!” logic. i do think it’s somewhat canon, i just can’t imagine kyle liking him back.

#south park #ao3 author #sp kyman

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alwaysstyleish · 19 days ago

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bro their artstyle is so cool

it’s been a while since i drew butters lol

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alwaysstyleish · 20 days ago

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The Plea

a/n: hey dudes! this will be my last fic posted on here for a while. i'm going on hiatus for a bit since my semester is starting tomorrow and i won't have as much time to write. enjoy man!!!

word count: 2k

Stan wasn't sure on how he got here.

He remembers the argument he walked in on, and how he got involved, but he wasn’t sure how the cuts got there. He’s not sure how he got in the bathroom, door locked with a bloody box cutter and both wrists practically split open.

His vision feels blurry, all he can feel is numbness, and the static in his ear’s overbearing. There’s a lot of blood on the floor, more than there should be. He can still hear the argument from outside the door, the shouting all fading into a blurry mess.

He knows he should call for help, beg for someone to help him, but all he can do is blink and stare at the gory mess of himself.

Were his hands always shaking? Stan can’t really feel it. Kyle’s words echo in his head from their date night. What did he say?

“If you ever go through something like that, text me. I care about you . ”

With shaky hands and bloody fingertips, he reaches for his phone, the crimson liquid smearing on the back pocket of his black jeans. He opens the only favorite contact, Kyle’s.

10: 49 pm, k-freak, mallrat supreme

mallrat supreme: can you come over

< dont use the front door

< use the bathroom window

He hits send on the last message, hoping that Kyle will at least acknowledge his messages.

Until then, he just has to wait.

☆ ☆ ☆

Kyle’s on his bed, scrolling through Pinterest on his phone when Stan texts him. He thinks about leaving him on delivered for a couple minutes, since Stan did that to him yesterday. His mind quickly changes when he sees what Stan texted him.

mallrat supreme: can you come over

mallrat supreme: dont use the front door

mallrat supreme: use the bathroom window

Kyle sits up with worry. What the fuck? This doesn’t feel like a prank, it feels wrong.

He gets out of bed before his brain can even process what’s going on. The messages felt wrong. He slides on his shoes and hoodie, his brain running on autopilot.

He rushes out the front door, feet running towards Stan’s. He’s hoping, praying , something isn't too wrong. The window is already unlocked when he reaches the house, and he jumps in, palms sweaty from running and worry.

The smell hits him first. Bitter, Metallic. And there was blood; a lot of it. Crimson on the floor, on his phone, on Stan. The sleeves of his sweatshirt are pulled up, showing all of the cuts in their gory galore, with Stan himself fading in and out of consciousness from the blood loss. This was not okay.

“Stan?!” The redhead jumps into the bathroom, rushing towards Stan. “Oh my god, what did you do?!” he says, looking at the bloody mess that’s become of his boyfriend.

He wants to cry, he wants to scream at Stan, to ask him why the fuck he didn’t call him earlier. But he can’t. Stan needs him right now, he’s sitting on the verge of life or death, and he’s going to be in the latter if he doesn’t do something to help stop the bleeding.

Kyle pulls off his hoodie, pressing the sleeve against one of Stan’s arms while trying to find something else to wrap his other arm in.

“You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s all gonna be okay.” Kyle tells Stan, trying to convince him as much as he's trying to convince himself. He finds a black towel, wrapping his other arm in the fabric tightly. The same arms that held him when he was crying about a bad test grade. The same arms that wrap around his waist when he hugs him. The same arms that are split wide open.

Kyle pulls Stan into his lap, holding his head like he’s the most precious object on earth. Stan’s eyes flutter shut just a little, but it’s enough to make Kyle’s heart drop.

“Hey, keep your eyes open. I know it’s hard, but just try.” he whispers panickedly.

‘Please don’t die on me, please don’t die. Please.’ Kyle thinks, whispering soft ‘it’s gonna be okay’s and ‘i’m here’s as an attempt to keep Stan somewhat alert.

Stan’s eyes drop to the blood-splattered floor, head tilting in shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispers out, eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t mean for this to get that bad. I’m sorry you have to see this.”

Kyle holds back a sob at his lover’s words. “You’re human, don’t apologize.” he reassures the blond, stroking his hair. “We all do dumb crap sometimes. I’m glad you asked me for help.”

They sit in silence for a while, wrapped up in their own little world. Kyle gently lifts up the towel wrapped around Stan's arm, relieved to see that the bleeding has gone down.

“Do you think you can stand up, dude? I need to clean you up.” Kyle asks gently, wrapping the towel back around Stan's wrist.

Stan nods slowly, still slightly dazed. Kyle hooks an arm around his waist, gently pulling him up as he stands. He guides Stan to sit down on the toilet seat cover, making sure he has balance.

Once Kyle figures he can sit up on his own for a little bit, he opens the cabinet behind the mirror, grabbing the small first-aid kit and walking back towards Stan with the kit in hand.

He kneels in front of Stan, gently grabbing one of the blond's arms and gently unwrapping the hoodie tied around his arm, the hoodie now stained a crimson color in patches. He grabs the packet of antiseptic wipes, gauze, and tape, laying it out quietly as if Stan might explode if he does it too loudly.

Stan looks at the redhead, still slightly disoriented. He remembers texting Kyle to come over, but everything after that just kind of fades in and out of consciousness, but he’s trying to stay alert for him. It’s the least he can do after everything Kyle did for him tonight.

He watches Kyle grab the antiseptic wipes, saying something about how it might hurt. Stan shrugs it off. “S’fine,” he mumbles to his lover, watching him as if he’s cleaning something made of gold.

Once Kyle finishes putting the final piece of gauze onto the last arm, he looks up at him, scanning his face for any discomfort. “D’you wanna change out of these clothes?”

Stan nods, he seems a lot more aware now, a green flag for Kyle. “Yeah, it feels gross.”

Kyle hums in acknowledgement, putting away the first-aid kit back where he got it. “Do you want me to help you?”

Stan shakes his head, not wanting Kyle to have to do any more work. “Nah, I can do it.”

The redhead nods. “I’ll wait for you.”

Stan nods in response, gripping onto the shower curtain as support. Noticing this, Kyle walks over to Stan and helps guide him to his room, holding the other boy up and steady as he walks back to his room.

The blond looks over towards his boyfriend as they walk. “Thank you for doing all of this for me. It means a lot.”

Kyle smiles softly, gripping him just a little tighter. “Don’t thank me. I like taking care of you.”

Stan shakes his head. “But that was a complete mess. I scared you. You thought I was gonna die.”

The redhead’s smile falters a little at his words. “Yeah, you did scare me, but you’re here right now, you’re okay.”

Tears well up in Stan’s eyes again, voice cracking a little. “I don’t know why you did all of that for me, I don’t deserve it.”

Kyle stops walking, turning his body so he can look at Stan. “You would’ve done the same thing for me if the roles were switched.”

Stan feels the first tear slip down his cheek, he doesn’t even bother to wipe it away. “Yeah,” he mutters, fingers digging into the fabric of Kyle’s shirt. “You deserve it.”

The duo stops in front of Stan’s bedroom door. With great reluctance, Kyle pulls away from Stan, stepping out of the way to let the blond in. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Stan nods at Kyle before he walks into his room, gently clicking the door shut. He walks over to his dresser, opening a drawer before picking some comfortable sleep clothes. He picks out some shorts and a shirt that Kyle let him borrow some time ago, soft and light blue and a shirt he’ll never give back.

Once he’s changed into the cleaner clothes he picked out, he walks over to the door. He opens it, peering his head to look at Kyle. “Can you stay the night?” he asks softly.

Kyle nods. “Of course, dude. I wasn't planning on leaving anyway.”

Stan steps aside to let Kyle in, body still a little shaky. He sits on the edge of his bed, hands in his lap. Kyle sits next to him, reaching out for his hand and lacing their fingers together.

The redhead turns his head to look at Stan. “D’you wanna lay down?” he asks, voice still soft and full of care.

Stan nods, leaning back and tugging Kyle by their conjoined hands to lay down with him. The redhead smiles a little at that, leaning back as well to be with Stan.

The blond curls up next to Kyle, releasing their hands to wrap his arms around the taller boy’s mid section, a silent “ thank you ” for everything.

Kyle places his hands on Stan’s back in turn, tracing small circles with his thumbs. Gently, he whispers. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

The blond seems to stiffen at the question, gripping Kyle tighter. “You don’t have to.” He adds, just in case.

Stan nods against Kyle’s shoulder. “Think I need to.” he mumbles out, voice muffled against the cotton blend of the redhead’s shirt.

Kyle stays quiet, a gentle invitation to start talking.

Stan lifts his head to rest his chin on Kyle’s shoulder so his voice won’t be muffled. “I was gonna go to Kenny’s to ask him if he wanted to hang out for a bit. I forgot my headphones, so I walked back to go grab them.”

Kyle continues to rub circles on his back, a way to show him he’s listening.

“And that’s when I walked in on them. They were arguing about the farm; I said something about them needing to cool off and talk about when they’re ready, and they dragged me into it.”

His voice cracks. “Dad said something about me being a pathetic fuck of a son. He was fucking drunk like usual, started swearing at me for no damn reason. My mom didn’t even try to defend me, just looking at me like I was some kind of lost cause.”

Tears start to fall down his face, damping Kyle’s shirt. “I felt useless, Kyle. Those words made me feel like I had no reason to be here. They made me feel like nothing I did wasn’t enough; I was only trying to help. God, I don’t even remember grabbing the box cutter, or locking myself in the bathroom, I only remember texting you.”

Tears prick at the corners of Kyle's eyes, gripping Stan tighter. “You’re not useless, and you’re not a pathetic fuck. You’re one of the best people I know. You walked in on hell and still tried to fix it.”

Stan’s fists clench, a sniffle coming from him.

Kyle gently kisses Stan’s forehead, fingers moving up to tread his hair. “You’re not alone, okay? I’m always here for you.”

“God, I love you so much.” Stan whispers between sobs.

Kyle’s heart clenches at the words, holding Stan like he’ll never let go. “I love you too. Don’t ever forget that.”

Stan’s breathing starts to regulate after a while, his grip on Kyle loosening as his body relaxes.

The room falls quiet, save from the sheet rustling and their breathing.

Stan’s not alone. Not anymore.

#south park #south park fan fiction #south park style #ao3 fanfic #sp style #style #ao3 #angst

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alwaysstyleish · 21 days ago

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First Date!!!

a/n: omg i'm so sorry i posted this late but here.

word count: like 5k

It’d been a week since they planned the date. A week Stan has been panicking about what he would wear, who would pick up who, and where they would go.

He had already borrowed (okay, more like stole) a bottle of Shelley’s concealer in his hand, and now Stan’s in his room looking at the small mirror on his desk, trying to FaceTime Wendy to ask her how to apply it.

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up…” he whispered under his breath.

It rang once, twice before Wendy picked up, laying in her bed with her usual neutral expression.

Stan let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Wendy?” He feels like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. “I need your help. Bad.”

Wendy smiles, looking at him that makes him feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. “Don’t you have a date with Kyle in like...” She glances up at the time at the top of her screen. "Thirty minutes?”

The blond nods frantically.”This piece of shit right here,” He points to the pimple on his chin. “It knew. It fucking knew , Wendy.”

Wendy stares at him like she’s talking to a five year old.

“This whole week everything was going great. I dyed my hair, I just passed my driving test–”

“After you failed three times before.”

Stan looks flustered at the callout. “That’s besides the point.” He says hastily, trying to dismiss the subject. “But this thing right here just had to show up the day I actually have something important planned. I made a whole Spotify playlist for this date, Wendy! I’m not playing around.”

Wendy laughs at his rant. “Sure, whatever you say, loverboy.” she tells him through the screen. “Now, do you have moisturizer?"

Stan looks at Wendy through the screen like she spoke a foreign language. It’s crystal clear that he doesn't know jackshit about skincare.

”What the fuck is that?” He asks, voice dead serious.

Wendy sighs like a disappointed mom. How does this boy not know what moisturizer is?

“Lotion for your face, Stan. Lotion. ”

“Oh.” Stan looks relieved that it’s not something too girly. “Yeah, I think I have that.”

He rummages through the abyss of hell that is his desk drawer, finally pulling out a small travel-sized bottle of some random hotel lotion.

“Would this work?” He asks Wendy, holding the object like it’s sacred.

She squints through the screen, looking at the small lotion bottle. “Is that from a Motel 6 Inn?”

Stan glances at the tiny, faded label on the bottle, brows furrowed with confusion. “What difference does it make?”

Wendy feels like her head’s gonna explode. “That’s body lotion, Stan. It’s not for your face.”

Stan looks at Wendy with the same look of confusion he gave the label. “But it says moisturizing!" he protests, trying to reason with himself as much as he’s trying with her. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?”

Wendy rubs her temples like she’s about to rip out her hair. “You know what? Use it. Just don’t come crying to me when you break out worse.”

Stan opens the bottle, squeezing the bottle just a little too tight. “Oh crap…” he mutters, eyes widening in horror as he’s looking at the giant glob of lotion in his hand.

“Stan!”

“I panicked!” He tells her, face flushed with embarrassment. “How much do I put on my face?”

“Not too much, okay? Like, fingertip amount.” Wendy answers, unsure on how to deal with him.

Stan takes the suggested amount by Wendy and smears it on his face, rubbing it aggressively on his skin.

“Be gentle,” she advises him, feeling like a stressed out mom. “You’re not waxing a car.”

Stan slows down on his face, cheeks still flushed from the assault. He feels like those girls on TikTok who do get-ready-with-me’s while doing skincare or makeup that he’ll never admit he watches.

“Now grab the concealer,” Wendy instructs. “Put a dot on the pimple and tap it out. Don’t smear unless you want it to flake off during dinner.”

He grabs the bottle of concealer, just about to open the lid before he gets interrupted by Wendy.

“Stan… is that a Tarte concealer?” Wendy asks, eyes squinted on the bottle.

Stan looks at the label before replying.”Seems like it. Why?”

“Those are high-end, Stan.” She explains. “It’s like, thirty bucks just for the mini. Shelley’s gonna kick your ass when she finds out you took her good one.”

His eyes widen in shock, halting his cap unscrewing. “Thirty bucks for this piece of shit!?” he exclaims.

Wendy nods. “I would suggest using it sparingly unless you want to get murdered in your sleep.”

Stan dabs the concealer lightly on the pimple like Wendy instructed, the red color barely there anymore.

Wendy nods in approval of his correct use of concealer.“Okay, do you still have that cologne your mom gave you in 8th grade?”

Stan goes offscreen for a moment, coming back with a nearly empty bottle of Bleu de Chanel. “This?” he asks, holding the bottle to the camera.

She nods. “Only spray twice.” Wendy speaks slowly, like she’s talking to a toddler about astrophysics. “One time on your neck, another on your wrist. That’s it.”

Stan sprays the cologne in the areas she told him to before looking in the mirror, forgetting that he was on call with Wendy for a moment.

Yeah, the cuts on his wrist sting a little from the alcohol in the cologne, but it’s okay, he was gonna wear a jacket, Kyle wouldn’t see them.

Sure, maybe his hair’s a little messy, but it looked okay. Kyle had already seen all of it, so why was he so stressed out?

“Stan?”

That snaps Stan out of his trance. “Yeah?”

“Kyle wouldn’t have agreed to the date if he didn’t like you.” Wendy tells him. “ You’re going to be fine.”

A comfortable pause follows this.

“Thank you.” he whispers.

Wendy smiles. “Wish you luck.” before the screen went black.

Stan looks at the time, 7:50.

“Oh, shit, I gotta go!” He shouts at himself, grabbing his wallet and keys.

He had everything. Emergency barf bag, wallet, keys…

“Oh shit, my phone!”

He sends Kyle a quick text of “omw” before running out of his room, stumbling over his feet as he walks out the front door.

☆ ☆ ☆

Did Kyle look like a complete mess? Not really. His hair’s in a bun with little front pieces out, kind of messy, but intentional. He’s wearing that brown collared shirt that Stan said made his eyes stand out. But Kyle’s a mess mentally. The kind that was overthinking every choice and made him think he needed to change his whole outfit. But at least he was spiraling with eyebrow gel on.

He looked at himself in the mirror for the millionth time in ten minutes. Did he look too put together? Should he let his hair down? Does he need another layer of chapstick? Does he need another spray of cologne? Should he layer a flannel?

After readjusting his shirt for the sixth time, there was a buzz from his phone.

7:50 pm, k-freak, mallrat supreme

mallrat supreme: omw

Kyle almost throws his phone across the room.

He ends up keeping it in his hand, the grip making his knuckles white.

“אלוהים אדירים,” he whispers. “He’s actually driving over here. He’s on his way.”

Kyle starts looking in his closet again, the once oddly-clean room now littered with clothes everywhere.

He finally found what he’s looking for; a plaid, emerald green flannel that matched the color of his eyes. “סוף סוף מצא את זה, חתיכת חרא.” he mutters under his breath.

He throws it on and now looks at himself in the mirror again. The flannel looks nice with the shade of brown of his shirt, very earthy colors, in his opinion.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. Before he even had the chance to respond, Sheila walked through the door in all of her overbearing, motherly fashion.

She sits down on his bed. “Kyle, we need to have a talk. Sit down, young man.”

Kyle grabs his desk chair and sits down, muttering an “oh, god,” under his breath again. This was not going well.

Sheila sighs as if she’s going to give him the most important speech of his life. “I know how teenagers get when they’re with someone they love, just make sure you’re being safe.” His mother hands him a small, foil packet.

Kyle’s eyes widen in shock, face flushing red. “Mo–”

“I know what you’re going to say bubbleh, that you guys are only going to a restaurant and hanging out at Stan’s after–”

“Because that’s what we are doing, Ma.” Kyle doesn’t think he’s felt more embarrassed in his entire life.

It’s obvious Sheila’s dead set on what she thinks is going to happen. “You never know! Teenage hormones run high.”

“The only thing that’s going to be inside me is the food from the restaurant.” He feels half-tempted to jump out his bedroom window.

Sheila just shakes her head. “Just take it. There’s more in the hallway closet.” She places the condom on his leg before walking out of the room, leaving the door partially open.

He stares at the condom on his thigh as if it’s a portal to hell. Kyle shoves the foil packet deep in his pocket, knowing he’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t take it.

“אני שונא את החיים שלי.”

His phone buzzes with another text from Stan again. Kyle looks at the message, hands shaking with anticipation.

7:58 pm, k-freak, mallrat supreme

mallrat supreme: here :)

Stan’s standing on the front porch of his boyfriend’s porch, bouquet of lilies and sunflowers in hand. Is it a little extra? Yeah. But it's Kyle, so it needs to be perfect.

He takes one of his hands off the stems of the flowers, biting his nails nervously. In all honesty, he’s scared shitless. Partially because of Kyle bailing on him, but mainly because of Sheila. Though he’s always held a good relationship with her, who wasn’t a little scared of Mrs. Broflovski?

Kyle opens the front door, looking like some ethereal creature, he has that brown shirt that looks stupidly good on him, and the flannel he’d gotten him last Christmas. Stan’s fully ready to melt into the other boy.

Kyle looks at Stan too. He's wearing a dark grey shirt that he’s sure made his face red, layered with a leather jacket he’s seen Randy wear a couple times. And did he just dye his hair too? It looks really good on him.

Stan decides to break the silence. “I got you flowers.” He tells Kyle, handing the flowers to him. He saw the way Kyle was looking at him and he briefly wonders if he looked like that or if they were just awkwardly staring at each other like idiots.

Kyle takes the flowers from Stan, looking at them closely. “You got me sunflowers?” There's a small smile on his face as he says this, and it makes Stan want to melt.

He nods, a grin on his face growing as he sees Kyle’s reaction to the flowers. “Yeah, I remembered–I thought about, I saw them and I remembered that one time in like, seventh grade when we had to do some fuckass project with them and you said they were your favorite.”

Kyle laughs at this information. “Dude, that was years ago.”

Stan chuckles along with him, trying to act nonchalant even though he’s spiraling mentally. “But I still remembered.”

The redhead’s laughter falls quiet, the smile still on his face. “These are really sweet. Thank you.” He turns his body towards the door, looking at Stan over his shoulder. “Wanna come in? I need to put these in water before they like, die.”

Stan nods. “Yeah,” He replies as he walks into the house after Kyle, shutting the front door behind them.

Kyle walks over to the kitchen, placing the flowers down on the island before getting a mason jar and filling it halfway up with water. He glances over at Stan, only to see the blond staring at him. ”Like the view?” Kyle jokes, a smirk playing on his lips.

Stan’s face turns bright red when Kyle catches him. “Sorry, you just look really pretty tonight.” the blond bites his nails nervously, avoiding eye contact. ”I mean– you always look pretty, just today–”

“Stan.”

Stan nods. “Shutting up.”

Kyle places the flowers in the jar before looking back at his date. “Let’s go before my mom gives you a lecture about condoms.” he tells Stan, grabbing the shorter one by the shoulder and walking him out the front door.

Stan chokes on air. “What!?”

Kyle nods. “She spent, like, ten minutes giving me a speech about teenage hormones. She even gave me one dude, it was sick.”

Stan smiles at his boyfriend, a dirty joke already in mind. “Well if she gave you one–”

Kyle drops his arm off the blond’s shoulders, shoving his face lightly. “Your head’s in the gutter, Marsh.”

When they stop in front of the car Stan drove, the blond fumbles with the car keys, scrambling to open the passenger door for Kyle. He opens the door with a fake nonchalance, hoping that Kyle doesn’t notice that his palms are sweaty.

The redhead smiles at the gesture, stifling a laugh as he gets in the car. “Such a gentleman,” Kyle deadpans.

Stan’s cheeks flush, a dorky grin growing on his face uninvitingly. “Next time you can open the door for yourself then, asshole.” he mumbles to Kyle, walking toward the driver's seat.

He mutters something about romantic freaks under his breath while putting on his seatbelt.

“Soo,” Stan starts, the low hum of the car filling the air. “Was there anywhere in particular you wanted to go eat?” he asks Kyle, glancing at him sideways as he buckles his seatbelt.

The other boy shrugs. “I mean, there’s that little Italian place by the movie theatre, and I know they got options for you.” He meets Stan's glance, shrugging again. “So I was thinking that place, but it’s up to you dude.”

Stan nods, hand gripping the steering wheel as he backs out of the Broflovski’s driveway. “That place’s perfect, dude. I like the garlic knots there.”

They drive into a comfortable silence for a while, the carefully crafted playlist (and definitely not an impulsive choice made by Stan at three in the morning) playing softly on the car’s stereo.

Kyle’s hand’s placed on Stan’s knee, squeezing lightly. In the car, it feels safe to them, like they can talk about anything and they won’t be judged.

But of course, that serenity doesn’t last very long. As the final notes of Amber play through the car's speakers, Moriessey’s voice starts to play like a badly timed question.

“Take me out tonight…”

Kyle raises an eyebrow in mock suspicion before he starts giggling at the song, and maybe partially at Stan. “Dude, seriously? This song on the first date?” He deadpans.

Stan’s flushed face rivals the color of his date’s hair, hands gripping the wheel unusually tight. “Dude, it’s on shuffle, I didn’t mean for it to play.”

Kyle’s laughter dies down, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s just a little dramatic for the first date.”

Stan stops at a red light. “It’s a good song, alright?”

Kyle shrugs. “Eh, The Smiths are okay.”

Stan shakes his head in disappointment. "You're uncultured.” Stan deadpans.

Kyle’s grip tightens on his knee as Stan turns into the parking lot. “Sure, you romantic freak.”

The blond rolls his eyes sarcastically. “You’re lucky I like you. I would’ve stopped doing this romantic shit a long time ago.” He grumbles as he parks.

As soon as Stan gets out of the car, he’s practically running to get the door for Kyle. The redhead steps out of the vehicle, taking his lover's hand as they start walking towards the restaurant.

The duo stroll in a comfortable silence for a bit before the redhead decides to break it.“Y’know,” Kyle tells Stan as they walk. “It’s kinda funny how you act like this big, tough jock at school but you’re really just a big sap.”

Stan looks at Kyle with curiosity. “I act like a jock?”

Kyle shrugs. “I mean, kinda. Like, you look a little scary, like the type of dude to beat the fuck out of somebody if they looked at you wrong.”

Stan snorts with amusement. “I blame it on being in the football team.”

The redhead grins. “It doesn’t quite help your case.”

When they reach the front door to the restaurant, Stan opens the door for Kyle in an overly exaggerated manner. “After you, princess,” the blond deadpans. “Before I swing on the host for breathing in my vicinity.”

Kyle puts his hand on his chest in mock flattery. “Wow, a gentleman and a thug. How did I get so lucky?”

He’s not usually the type to use playful banter like this, but with Stan, it feels like he can say anything that comes to mind and won’t be judged for it.

The hostess walks up to the duo, menus in hand. “For how many?” she asks, looking at the two expectantly.

“Just two.” Kyle tells her, quickly glancing at Stan with a small pink tint on his face.

The duo gets seated at a small booth towards the back of the restaurant, a small candlelight in the middle of the table. She hands them the two menus, leaving the two to order their food.

After staring at the menu for a few seconds, Stan looks up at his date. “You already know what you’re getting?”

Kyle nods. “I’m getting chicken alfredo. You?”

The blond shrugs. “Veggie lasanga.”

The redhead smirks. “Of course you’re getting something off the vegetarian menu.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a complement?”

“A little bit of both.”

When the waiter walks over to take their orders, Stan with his beloved lasagna, Kyle with his chicken alfredo with a knowing smirk at his date and zero guilt in his body.

When the waiter walks off, their laughter and chatter’s as easy as second nature. They talk about the small things, school gossip, upcoming tests, sibling drama.

“Dude, I can’t believe Bebe and Kenny aren’t dating yet. It’s so fucking obvious they both like each other.” Stan says while grabbing the red pepper flakes for his dish, sleeves riding up ever-so-slightly.

“Right? They both just need to…” Kyle trails off as he notices something.

Thin, uneven, red lines on Stan’s wrist.

Not necessarily new, but not the oldest either.

His breath hitches, just for a moment.

“... admit it already.”

Stan doesn’t notice, he’s still adding an admittedly excessive amount of red pepper flakes to his lasagna. He looks happier than he had in months. Kyle doesn’t want to ruin it.

He’ll ask in the car.

Because he wants to know.

Because he cares.

Because he loves him.

Stan’s laughing brings him back to earth. “Dude, I think Morrisey’s haunting me.”

Kyle smiles with him. “And why do you think that?” He asks the blond, picking at his pasta.

“Do you hear the song they’re playing?" Stan asks, picking up a small piece of lasagna with his fork.

The sound of ‘This Charming Man’ plays through the small speakers scattered around the restaurant, courtesy of their playlist.

“Or maybe he’s trying to wreck this date.” Kyle chuckles.

Stan gasps dramatically. “How dare you accuse him of something so wicked.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who said he was haunting us?” he deadpans.

“Yeah, but he’s like– trying to bring good energy to the date by mysteriously having his songs play everywhere we go.”

“How does that even make sense?”

“It just does, okay?” Stan grins, obviously proud of his bullshit logic.

Kyle smiles at him, staring for a second longer than usual. He notices the light forehead acne, covered by the messiness of his hair, or the way he’s consistently tugging down his sleeve like he’s hiding a secret.

Kyle knows what he’s hiding.

“So…” Stan says to Kyle, resting on one of his elbows to look at him. “When are we having the part where you tell me that you plan on graduating a year early just for fun?”

Kyle smirks at this. “Oh please, if I wanted to be a show-off I would show them my collection of books.”

Stan looks at him, eyebrow raised. “That’s hot.”

Now Kyle's the one with his eyebrow raised.“How are books hot?”

“Well, when you read, you put on your reading glasses, and you look fucking hot in your glasses.” Stan confesses, cheeks flushing pink.

“Your head’s still in the gutter, Marsh.” the redhead laughs.

☆ ☆ ☆

The couple leave the restaurant, walking towards Stan’s car (he paid like the gentleman he is).

They stroll at a slow, unhurried pace, Stan humming ‘There is a Light That Never Goes Out’ quietly.

Kyle chuckles when he hears Stan. “Can't get Morrisey out of your head?”

Stan nods. “I think he like– possessed me or something.”

The redhead smiles. “‘And if a double-decker bus..’”

The blond finishes the lyrics. “‘Crashes into us,’”

The duo quietly hum the song the rest of their way to the car.

When they arrive at the car, Stan unlocks the car, the vehicle opening with a soft beep . Neither of them rush to get in, they just stand by each other, interlocking pinkies, basking in the other’s presence.

After a couple minutes, Stan turns to his date. “Wanna get in?”

Kyle nods, staring at his shoes.

He’s going to ask. Yeah, it’ll be hard to bring up, but it’s for Stan’s safety. He doesn’t want to see him getting hurt. Not now, not ever.

The duo climb into the car, the silence comfortable and safe. Kyle fidgets with the hem of his flannel, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach.

“Hey,” The redhead says softly.

Stan hums in response, looking over at Kyle.

“During dinner,” Kyle starts. Why is this so hard to say? “I saw your wrist.”

The air stills.

The blond’s smile falters into something sadder, like a flower in a cemetery. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Kyle nods. “I know.” He turns his head to look at Stan. “If you ever go through something like that, text me. I care about you.”

Stan’s eyes get wet, whispering a soft, “ Thank you. ”

The redhead’s words weigh on Stan like a weighted blanket. It feels nice to know that somebody actually gives a fuck about him; knowing that Kyle doesn’t see him differently.

The blond’s breath hitches, eyes blurry from the tears that threaten to fall. He won’t let them fall– he can’t . He feels like a part of him, deep and secretive, has been exposed. Which in a sense, it has. But it’s Kyle he’s talking about. If anything, he can be the one Stan could trust.

So why can’t Stan just trust?

“It’s just…” He trails off, wiping his eyes with the corner of his jacket sleeve. “really hard to talk about, y’know? Nobody really cares to ask, so I just don’t say anything. I never really expected anyone to notice or care.”

Kyle doesn’t respond immediately. The redhead takes Stan's hand, interlocking fingers and squeezing gently, just enough to ground him.

“Dude,” Kyle looks at him with a loving gaze that makes Stan think he’ll melt if he stares too long. “Don’t be afraid to talk about crap like this. You can always talk to me if something’s up.”

“Thank you.” Stan repeats. The words feel like a prayer on his tongue, blessing him with the gift of somebody to talk to.

Kyle smiles faintly, his thumb brushing against Stan’s wrist. “Don’t thank me,” he tells him gently. “Let’s get back home.”

Stan lets go of Kyle’s hand only to turn the car on..He puts the key in the ignition, the car humming to life. The drive back is quiet, the sound of the playlist playing softly through the car.

Kyle grabs Stan’s phone to look through the playlist–the blond doesn’t even bother to stop him, he already knows the password anyway.

The redhead snorts when he sees the playlist. “Seriously? You have six songs from The Smiths in here; no wonder why Morrisey’s haunting you.”

Stan grins. “I tried to summon his good British energy.”

“At least you have this song on your playlist.” Kyle notes as he plays Lovesong, the melody playing softly in the car.

Stan glances at him before stopping at a red light. “Lovesong? Of course I have it on here, I’m not heartless.”

Kyle leans back and looks at the night sky, the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting his lips. “What would you consider our song to be?”

“Want You Bad by The Offspring. Why?”

The ginger turns his head towards him. “Really? Why?”

Stan’s cheeks pinken at this. “Because it was the song I played when I asked you out.”

Kyle’s smirk grows a bit wider at this. “When Cartman hid under your bed?“

Stan rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. “It was one time. You tried to kill him.”

“He was on FaceTime with Kenny and was laughing at us the whole time.” he deadpans

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Stan jokingly dismisses.

Stan pulls into the Marsh driveway, running again (and maybe or maybe not tripping over his shoelaces along the way;) to open the door for Kyle.

Kyle snickers when he sees the blond trip over his shoelaces. “You’re such a dork.” He tells Stan as they walk towards the front door hand-in-hand.

Stan simply beams. “Yeah, but I'm your dork.”

They walk inside, kicking off their shoes by the door. Kyle leans back on the couch, waiting for Stan to join him.

The blond turns to him. “I’m gonna go get a blanket, I'll be back.”

Kyle nods before Stan walks away.

I should probably text my mom before she thinks we’re fucking on the couch , Kyle thinks, pulling out his phone to text his mother.

10:36 pm, mom, kyle

kyle: we’re at stan’s

< we’re not fucking.

< i’ll be staying the night.

< i love you.

Stan returns with a blanket from his room, a bag of potato chips in hand. “I brought snacks.”

Kyle scoots over, motioning for Stan to sit next to him. “So, what kind of movie do you wanna watch?”

The blond looks over at him with a mischievous grin. “Cheesy rom-com?”

Kyle raises an eyebrow. “How cheesy?”

“Like– Hallmark Christmas movie cheesy.”

“Dude.”

Stan tries to shush him by stuffing chips in his mouth. “Shut up, we’re watching The Notebook .”

Kyle rolls his eyes dramatically, chewing and swallowing the chips before speaking. “I don’t know why I love you.” This is the first time they ever said the L word to each other; and despite it being said in that dry tone that makes Stan want to roll his eyes, he feels like his heart is banging against his ribcage.

Stan turns his head slowly to look at Kyle, cheeks flushed. “You said the L word.”

Kyle shrugs so nonchalantly it has to be fake; the tips of his ears are burning. “So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’?” Stan sputters out. “It’s like– the first time we ever said that word to each other! This is a big deal!”

The corners of Kyle’s lips perk up just a little from his boyfriend's rant, cheeks flushed bright pink. “And I'll say it again. I love you.”

Stan has the dopiest grin on his face imaginable, like Kyle just handed him the world. “I love you too.”

The blond curls against Kyle's chest, cheek resting against his heart. “Let’s watch this movie now, it’s peak cinema.”

Kyle chuckles, hands playing with Stan’s hair. “Whatever you say, dude.”

By the time the ending credits roll, the duo’s fast asleep, curled up into their own little world on the living room couch.

☆ ☆ ☆

Sharon walks into the kitchen early next morning, her main objective to get a cup of coffee. She glances at the two boys, who are still asleep on the couch. Her son's curled up to Kyle's side, cheek pressed against his chest. The redhead has his arms wrapped around the blond like he's trying to protect Stan from the world, the duo still buried under the monster of Stan's blanket. Sharon immediately thinks this is the cutest thing she's ever seen.

She smiles, pulling out her phone to take a quick photo of them. She snaps the photo of them, feeling like a proud mom.

As soon as the photo’s in her camera roll, she mutters to herself. “I’m sending this to Sheila.”

a/n : thank you for reading

also, do you guys want stan's date playlist? it's linked here

#south park #south park fan fiction #south park style #ao3 fanfic #sp style #style #ao3

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