Gonna See If I Can't Unwind (South Park X Reader One Shots)

See You Around - Christophe

Word count: 1,449

---

"Alright, now punching the teacher is bad, mkay," Mr. Mackey's voice sounded as you left the room, clenching your bag.

Why does your life have to be so fucking horrible?

Your father's gonna kill you.

You paled at the idea of what he'd do to you for getting detention.

Grumbling internally, you counted your steps, dreading your arrival at home dearly as you walked over to the late bus.

You were a straight-A student with anger management problems, according to your psychiatrist. No one understood you, really, and you cursed the higher powers for making your life this way. They fucking abandoned you. Eventually, you got used to your abusive father and your bullies and the unfair way that the teachers never seemed to care about your side of the story.

You audibly sighed, shoving your hands in your pockets and listening to the sound of your shoes on the linoleum.

Then all of a sudden you felt a larger hand grab your mouth (to prevent you from screaming, you assumed) and a flash of camo, green, brown, and silver as you were pulled into the arm and chest of a someone you couldn't recognize, the arm taut under your chin. You could smell the cigarette that the individual dropped to the ground and put out with their foot.

"Viva La Resistance." Your unknown attacker growled in a teenage boy's (hot) French accent, before pressing you harder to his chest in some form of a headlock. You were filled with nothing but confusion. What the fuck?

Observing your surroundings, you could tell that you were in a janitor's closet.

You said nothing, but struggled in his strong grip. In your struggle, you saw his face, which had handsome features that were scowling with tanned skin and messy brown hair.

"Wait, you're not Wendy, are you?" He asked, confusion evident in his voice as he released you.

"No way I'd ever be that rotten bitch or anything like her," you growled animalistically. "She's got black hair and always wears a pink beret. Wait, are you tracking her down? Are you a hitman or something?"

"Oui, mercenary," he said. "She dumped my friend for a con. Just a favor for a friend. He doesn't know about the favor, though."

"Whoa, Stan's a con man?" You asked, excited. "I always knew there was something off about him-"

"Con is asshole in French, you idiot."

"Oh." You blushed. It was hard to tell in the dark closet. Still applicable to Stan, though. "Is Gregory who you're talking about? He's a close friend of mine." You racked your brain for any instance of Gregory mentioning someone like this person... "Ah! You're the Mole. A major factor in the plan to rescue Terrence and Philip in the fourth grade, I remember Cartman mentioning that."

"You don't seem like the kind of person to be close to Cartman." The ruggedly handsome Frenchman's eyes narrowed.

"I...I'm not." You averted your gaze. Picking up your bag, you slipped your arms through the shoulder straps and opened the door. "I've got to go. My dad's gonna kill me for being late."

"Wait."

You flinched as his voice and his grip on your arm summoned you and you hesitatingly acknowledged his request with embarrassingly low resistance."What?"

"Why did you call Wendy a bitch?" He asked, more curious than angry.

You kept your eyes away from his. "She deserved it."