Racing Heart (Kenny x Reader)

Poor and Stupid

Kenny was well aware of the stereotypes surrounding the sport. But NASCAR was more than just entertainment to him. It was a lifestyle he wanted to be a part of.

When he was younger he would daydream about winning cup titles and scoring a trophy wife with big fake tiddies.

He looked up to his idols and worked hard to get to where he was now.

Which was underneath his Chevy Impala stock car with Craig repairing the rear axle.

Getting started as a newcomer cost a lot of money. If you didn't have sponsors, you were practically fucked. And without money to hire a professional pit crew, you were left to scrounge up some friends willing to volunteer their time. Which wasn't that many.

Kenny, Craig, Tweek, and Butters were very close growing up together. They were big fans of Red Racer, and always wanted to grow up to be part of a professional team.

What Kenny would do without them, he hoped he'd never have to find out.

Craig was the best pit boss, able to delegate tasks naturally, with Tweek by his side he was unstoppable. Butters was a fast learner making him useful in multiple areas and always willing to stay after hours to help prep the car.

Unfortunately, the team would be nothing without Eric Cartman.

As much as it made Kenny's skin crawl, almost everything in their shop was obtained through him.

Years ago, Cartman decided he wanted to be a race car driver believing it was so easy all you had to be was poor and stupid. So he gave away all his money, went to the drug store, and downed a shit ton of Vagisil in an attempt to lower his IQ. As if it were possible to go even lower.

Subsequently, Vagisil garnered a lot of attention from this stunt and became a primary sponsor funding his racing.

Cartman had made a mockery of every NASCAR fan and it didn't go over too well with the driver's community either.

They were the most disliked team in the circuit. And Kenny hated being known as 'the vagina guys'.

Like everything Cartman set out to do, he became bored with it and left the door open for Kenny.

Cartman acted under the guise of owner. He really only showed up to awards ceremonies and could give a fuck less what went on behind the scenes as long as it made him look good.

Speak of the devil, Cartman was calling him right now.

Kenny's hands were covered in axel grease as he picked up the phone.

...

Your job, as an official media manager through NASCAR was to make sure crews were well taken care of under your direct supervision and appeal to potential sponsors. The team's image was in your hands.

The better the image, the better chance to attract sponsors, the more sponsors obtained means more money for the team to buy what they need to succeed.

You had worked with multiple championship-winning teams and established your reputation as the cobra. A ruthless charmer that was always poised to strike at the opportunity at hand.

Having you on any team almost always guaranteed a steady cash flow.

It goes without saying that hiring you came at top dollar.

You were sitting in your beautiful apartment sipping (your fav drink) when you got a call from your associate, Jeff.

"Y/N, I've got a client on the line for you. They're willing to pay but it's going to be a lot of work for you to get these guys up and ready for the Cup Series. If they even make it that far."