South Park One-Shots

Chasing Cars - Christophe De'Lorne

Annnnnnd, I'm back! I know, I know, I gotta get these up. And I will!  This week is a writing devoted week in my world, so I should get all ten of these done. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. This song is: Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. -Boondock 

Christophe De'Lorne X Reader

Song: Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

*Reader's POV* 

Gregory ordered the students of South Park Elementary around, his fingers snapping constantly. He began to give a speech and Wendy sighed at him dreamily. I gave out a half-giggle and turned around, preparing to walk away. After all, they don't need me here. "Uh, Y/n? Do you have a moment?" Gregory asked, his English voice making me stop short. I gave a short, little cuss and turned toward him, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Yes?" He gave a whistle and three students came over, each wearing a different hat. One had a red puffball hat, the second a ushanka, and the third had a light blue and yellow hat. They looked from him to me, although the first seemed to glare at him. That motherfucker, glaring at my best friend. He must like Wendy, I concluded. Gregory snapped a finger in front of my face and I left the glare-stare I had mentally with Red-Puff.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Y/n, this is Stan Marsh." He pointed to Red-Puff, and I nodded. "The one in the ushanka is Kyle Broflovski, and the fat one is Eric Cartman. He and his ruffians are here to help save Terrance and Phillip. While they may be good on their own, I feel that it may be better to have a person specialized in this skill." Were they going to ask me? Ah, god dammit, I would probably die if they did. "Y/n, we would like you to go with them to retrieve The Mole." 

My heart froze, my (e/c) eyes unblinking. I stared off, Kyle giving me a look of worry, Cartman a look of annoyance. My next words came out in a quick whisper, "The Mole?" Gregory nodded and I began to fantasize about the French boy with the shovel. I have never met him, but I heard great stories. He had been in a great deal of mercenary missions, and was both loved and hated in the mercenary world. The ladies, of which there were few, loved him. The men, unless he sided with them, hated his guts. But no one would kill him, because not only was he a good dodger, but an excellent mercenary. 

Fat fingers waved themselves in front of me and I gasped, pulling back. I must have dreamt off, but we had a job to do, and I couldn't dilly-dally. "Where does he live?" I asked, grabbing my handgun. 

Gregory smirked and handed me a piece of paper, "Let's do this."

*Time Skip* 

Pulling up to the house, I instantly thought it was beautiful. Stained glass windows showed angels, large, steep steps climb upward to the porch, which had a swing on it. An ash tray held a dead cigarette, already burned down to the butt. There was spider plants hanging from the railings, leaves stretching far. We walked up the steps, Cartman tripping and cussing (only to be shocked), after us. "Alright, so we're going to-"

Cartman shoved past, banging on the door. There was a few French words spoken quickly on the other end, then the door opened. A lady, mid-twenties, smiled down at us, her brown hair falling in her face. "Bonjour, beaux enfants! Cherchez-vous Christophe?" Her native tounge flowed out of her mouth, making me smile. If she spoke so beautifully, Christophe must be even better!

Stan nudged me, "What'd she say?" I rolled my eyes and turned back to the mother. Her brown almond eyes smiled down at me and I coughed. 

Shit, my French sucks. But, a mercenary does what a mercenary's gotta do. "She said hello and asked if we were looking for Christophe. I suppose that's The Mole, so we better answer." I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and nodded, "Yes, Miss De Lorne. We would like to speak with-"