My New Best Friends: A South Park X Reader

Chapter 11: Defend the Stick!

A/n: (F/m) means favorite metal
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When I walk over to Craig's table, Clyde immediately jumps up and grabs my arm. "What was on that aeroplane?"
I twiddle my thumbs. "Um, I was asking to confirm that it was, in fact, a date?"
Clyde shook his head. "(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n)... What am I going to do with you?" He chuckles.
Just then, Cartman walks up to us. "Hey (Y/n), Clyde."
"Hi Cartman," I greet.
"Listen, we were kind of having a private conversation," Clyde glowers, gently tugging on my arm.
"I just need to tell her something," Cartman says, grabbing my arm and replicating the same tone.
Clyde tugs a little harder. "Then guess what buddy, you can ask her later. We're busy."
"Well then, buddy," Cartman says, gripping my arm, "I just need her for a few minutes."
"It can wait, can't it?"
"I would like to-"
"You're intruding on our-"
"Let her just-"
"We were-"
"I know you were talking, but-"
"Then leave us alone, dipshit."
"Make me, dick."
"Fatso."
"Dumbass."
"Bastard."
"Mama's boy."
"You wanna go?"
"Let's go."
"Everyone, ENOUGH!"
The two boys look at me in shock. Clyde's friends, who overheard us, equate this expression.
Both Clyde and Cartman have my arms locked in a death grip, pulled close to their chests. Clyde looks to be on the verge of tears.
"Fighting isn't going to solve anything," I say gently. "Eric, Clyde and I were having a private conversation, and I would've appreciated it if you would've waited until we were finished. Clyde, there was no need to be nasty to him, alright? Now, I want you to apologize."
"Sorry I interrupted," Cartman grumbles.
"Sorry I called you a fatass... Fatass," Clyde says, muttering the last part under his breath.
Cartman whirls around to make a second remark, but I stop him. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"I wanted to tell you to meet at Kahl's house today after school," Cartman says. "We're gonna play more of the Stick of Truth today."
I nod and turn around. "Thanks Cartman. See you soon!"
"(Y/n), wait."
I face Cartman, who seems to be fighting an inner battle. "Um... Did you really want t-to..."
"...Did I want to what?" I persuade, tilting my head to the side.
"I-I mean... Were you the one who, um..."
"Cartman, if you wanna tell me, you're gonna have to spit it out yourself. I can't read minds, y'know."
"Well maybe I don't want to tell you! Stupid BITCH!"
I step back from Cartman's sudden outburst. "Um, alright dude. Just know that if you ever want to talk to someone, my door is always open."
I grab Clyde's hand and lead him out the door.

Cartman's POV:
"Dude, what was that all about?" Kyle asks as he, Stan, and Kenny walk up next to me.
I pat them on the back, trying to play it off. "You see guys, sometimes, you just have to put a woman in her place. Every time she talks back to you, you just gotta say: 'EY! Get back in the kitchen and make me sandwich, bitch!"
Stan shakes his head. "That's unbelievably misogynistic, Cartman."
He pauses. "No, wait, it actually is believable."
"I was gonna say, 'This is Cartman we're talking about here,' " Kyle laughs. " 'Of course it's going to be misogynistic.' "
"Tch, shut the fuck up you guys," I mutter. "We all know the most miso-whatever one here is Kinny."
"No, you're the most misogynistic one here, Fatass," Stan says. "Kenny's just a womanizer."
"Not denying it," Kenny mumbles.
"And anyways, misogyny and womanizing are both forms of sexism, and both are rude and inappropriate."
"Whatever," I cut in. "The point is... Ehm.... I have to go."

Third POV:
As the young boy runs off, his friends look after him in wonder. "Pretty fishy..." Kyle mumbles.
"He's hiding something," Kenny narrows his eyes.
"Well, no fucking SHIT Kenny," Stan smacks him on the back of the head. "The question is, what is it?"

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Your POV:
That evening, I knock on the door of Kyle's house. Hearing the soft rapping, a heavy-set woman with fiery red hair opens the door, her face contorting into confusion.
"Um, hi, my name is (Y/n) (L/n). I'm new here, and-"
"Oh, you're the new girl!" The woman interrupts. "My little Bubbala tells me so much about you! I'm his mother. He's outside with his friends. Maybe you could wait in his room?"
"In his... Room?" I ask. "Ma'am, I'm actually here to play with them."
Mrs. Broflovski's eyes widen. "Oh my goodness, you're just perfect for my little Bubbala! Come with me."
As we walk through the house, Mrs. Broflovski tells me about Kyle and his little brother, Ike. "Kyle's told me so much about you, (Y/n). It's so adorable how his eyes light up every time your name is mentioned!"
At the mention of this, my cheeks flame as red as her hair. "H-He does?" I mumble.
She nods, laughing. "Oh yes, dear. He's even created a character for you in his little game!"
We reach the door. "Kyle, your girlfriend is here!"
My cheeks, which had returned to normal, turn red again. Kyle pokes his head in the door, dressed in his king attire. "Mom, she's not my girlfriend."
Mrs. Broflovski frowns. "Oh, but I thought she was, from the-"
"No Mom, she's just a friend," Kyle cuts her off, pulling me to his side. "Thanks for letting me know, though."
She nods and smiles. "Have fun Bubbala!"
"MOM! Don't call me that!"
He pulls me outside. There, I see Stan and Jimmy. They wave to me. "Sorry about that," he mutters. "My mom means well, promise."
I giggle. "It's no problem, really. She's a very nice woman. She told me you made me a character for the game."
He nods. "You will be the Elven Princess."
"Cool. What's my weapon?"
He looks at me, confused. "Weapon?"
"Yeah. Don't you guys have weapons?"
"Well, yeah, but you won't be fighting."
"But... Kenny's a princess, right? Doesn't he have a weapon?"
"Well, yeah, but.... Uh... Tell you what, how about this: for today, you don't have a weapon, so you can learn all about this game. Then, when you're ready, you can."
"But I am ready."
"(Y/n), what's the name of this land?"
"... Uh... Tatooine?"
"You're not ready. Come, to the tent."
I follow Kyle to a bright purple tent. Inside is a chest full of weapons, clothes, potions, you name it. "You're going to start out as a level one princess," Kyle tells me. "The chest holds all items of clothing. Choose what you feel is best."
"Hmm.. Alright."
I pick around the chest. Finding something that catches my eye, I turn to Kyle. "Um, what are you doing?"
"Waiting for you to change," he replies.

I stare at him.

"Oh! Sorry sorry." With that, he leaves the tent. I roll my eyes and continue looking through the chest.

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A/n: Okay, since I know all of my readers have different tastes, I'm just gonna let you guys wear whatever the hell you think your princess-y self is going to look good in. Hell, you could dress as Princess Leia at the beginning of Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi and I would still support you. You do you, my child. A'ight, back to the story.
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"Princess (Y/n)? You done ye-"
"Stan my man, don't you know to knock before you enter a lady's room?"
Stan's eyes widen at my figure, now clothed in (whatever the hell you want). He quickly closes his mouth. "Right, sorry. Um, the king told me to bring you this."
He holds out a(n) (F/m) tiara with green rhinestones. "For you, my lady."
Stan then proceeds to drag the both of us through the long and painful process that is pinning the crown to my head.
"OW!"
"Hold still," he says, muffled by the bobby pins in his mouth. "Man, I wish Princess Kenny were here to do this. He does hair so efficiently."
"I bet, dude," I respond. "You'd think he always wears that wig with the amount of practice he has."
"Oh, that's because of his sister."
" 'Scuse me?"
Stan sits down next to me, abandoning the project. "He didn't tell you?"
Seeing me shake my head, he continues. "Kenny's the middle child; he has a younger sister and an older brother. His sister's name is Karen, and he does her hair every day. That's how he got so good."
Stan gets up, holding out a hand. I grasp it, using it to stand up. "Y'know, they may not live very well, but a bond like Karen and Kenny's is rare, and hard to come by," Stan says. "He really cares about her."
Stancy stops talking as soon as we get outside, where Kyle, Jimmy, and all the Elves are waiting for us. "Behold, Princess (Y/n)!" Kyle cries.
The Elves cheer, causing me to blush. Stan gives me a reassuring smile and squeezes my hand.
"Good to have you here, milady."

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The kingdom feasts. Mrs. Broflovski made all of us cookies, so we have a party. Jimmy clinks his glass of champagne (crème soda) against mine. "To P-P-Princess (Y/n)'s arrival!" He cheers. "Glad you joined us instead of those l-lousy Humans."
I giggle. "Glad to be here! I just have one question. Why doesn't Douchebag go to school with us?"
"Oh, that's because he's homeschooled," Jimmy says. "His mom and d-dad r-really wanted him to make friends though, so they let him join K-Kupa K-K-Keep."
I nod. "That makes sense. What brought you to be a bard?"
"I love music," he smiles. "Plus, C-Cartman won't allow me to be a c-comedian. He says they d-d-didn't exist in medieval times."
"Well, that sounds-"
"THE HUMANS ARE ATTACKING!" A boy shouts.
"To arms, Elves!" Kyle yells. "Defend the Stick!"
"When did we get the Stick?" I whisper to a boy next to me.
"The Wizard King and His Majesty agreed that whoever's team you joined gets the Stick," he whispered back. "Not sure why, but that's how it is. The Wizard King threw a temper tantrum when we came to retrieve it."
He runs off. I run to the tent. "Least I can brush up on my self-defense skills," I say to myself.
I try some hand movements; punches, scratches, et cetera, but when I begin doing leg movements, three humans rush into the tent.
I take out two of them by poking them in the eyes, but the third one hits me in the back of the head, hard.
"Humans, fall back!" Are the last words I hear.
Everything goes black as I slip from consciousness.