South Park x Reader One Shots

Poetry (Goth Stan x Reader)

"There's no smoking in here."

The librarian stopped Stan at the steps outside of the South Park Public Library, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes and put out his cigarette against one of the pillars in protest and silently walked past her.

Condescending elderly ladies aside, he loved the library because it was the one place where no one could tease him. In here, everyone had a common purpose.

He kept close to the gothic literature, taking in the works of Poe, Leroux, and Stoker. Almost no one was in that area which was another perk he enjoyed.

Until today.

What is she doing in this section?

Y/N was the most mysterious girl on campus. She was the kind of girl that would turn a guy down without a reason, making them want her all the more.

Her fingers drag across the spines on the shelf gently retrieving a title and making her way to a dimly lit table.

Stan caught a glimpse of the author.

Le Fanu. She has taste.

Stan debated whether or not he should go talk to her, but ultimately hid behind the excuse of not wanting to disturb her reading.

...

You usually visited the library earlier but tonight you were glad you got held up at work. The goth boy in your English 261 course was here, sitting at a table not too far from yours.

He was the only guy that hadn't tried to talk to you and the only one you wanted to.

You catch him looking up from the Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe, his charcoal-lined eyes stealing longing glances at you.

You nod, giving him a half-smile and he buries his nose quickly back into the book pretending he hadn't just been caught.

He looks unbelievably nervous as you get up from your seat, making your way over to him.

"What are you reading?" You say taking a peak, "Alone. Interesting. I enjoy that one for its irony."

His interest is piqued, "Irony?"

"Yes. Feeling othered or misunderstood is something most people can relate to. So it's ironic that he expresses these feelings to people that can connect to him. So in a way, the poem is reassuring the reader that they aren't 'alone' in feeling alone."

The blush creeping across his face looks unnatural juxtaposed to his dark facade.

"I guess I never thought of it that way."

"I'm Y/N," you say softly.

"I know."

His eyes widen and he stumbles over his words.

"I mean, I know because I hear your name a lot. But not like that- it's just because you're new and the boys, I mean people, talk about you a lot. I'm Stan."

"Well, Stan, it looks like you've got good taste."

He quickly covers his mouth and tries to hide his face, looking a little queasy.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm," he swallows and turns around, "I'm fine."

"Uh, you have good taste too," he gestures to your book. "Le Fanu, right?"

"Carmilla? I've re-read it hundreds of times, there's just something so comforting about female sexuality in the context of angst and horror."

Stan smiles, "Some people argue that it's sapphic, what do you think?"