#i enjoyed it sm i had never done something like this in my life and im so happy i got the chance to 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

۶ৎ Bows and Blows ۶ৎ

Sevika x Female Reader

Contains: Sex: strap-on, deep throat, thumb sucking, hair pulling, rope play but with bows, and ass slapping.

A/N: Took sm pills, im NOT staying sick. This is the second time, all bc my fuckass friend took a sip of my drink. FUCK THISSSSSS!!! Also this isn’t proofread!!!

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

Her eyes stared down at your swollen lips as you sucked on her large thumb. Your tongue felt every curve of her finger as she, herself, felt around your pretty mouth. With her dark lips curled into a smirk, Sevika’s mech hand gripped tightly onto your hair as she slid further into your mouth. She made sure your eyes watered when she slid to the back of your mouth to feel around. You held back a gag before she pulled out.

You could barely take her thumb.

“Don’t think you can handle a strap, baby.” A soft scoff left her lips as your girlfriend brushed back your disheveled hair, she liked keeping you full; mouth or cunt, she had to have something in you. “I can handle it..” You, swallowing another gag, look up at her with teary eyes. Everything about her was pulling, especially the way she gently tugged onto your hair again. You would do anything she asked you to, even let her mouth fuck you.

“Can you now?”

You were sat on the edge of the bed, arms tightly tied behind you with the use of ribbons. Sevika had made sure to tie them into perfectly pretty bows as you demanded so. “We’ll see if you can, doll.” With a pull of your head, your girlfriend rested the tip of her strap on your lips before running it along your moistened skin. “Open wide for me, sweet thing.” And you obediently did as she said. Opening your mouth, you held back a gag as she immediately bucked her cock to the back of your your throat. A sinister smirk played on her lips as she watched you struggle with taking her thick strap.

“You got it, baby.” You did your best in letting her fuck your throat, each thrust was harder to swallow than the one that came before. Your eyes watering, you stay open for your girlfriend’s pleasure. Sevika was enjoying seeing your flushed face, it brought her a sense of thrill to the way you were so damn obedient. You did whatever she said, desperate for her approval or not it made her feel powerful.

All you could really do was take it. Hands curled into a fist, eyes tightly shut, and breathing heavy you patiently wait to actually be fucked. Sure, you liked the way your girlfriend looked down at you whenever you had her thumb in your mouth but you liked it so much more when she’d actually hit the spot that got you writhing. Your cunt was a pulsing mess, it was screaming to be acknowledged, to be touched.

After a few good thrusts, your girlfriend was satisfied with your wet and red cheeks. Sevika pulled out of your mouth and watched as you coughed, it was a sight she’d never get enough of. “You did good, baby..” with a deep breather you let your girlfriend shift you on the bed. She wasn’t done with you just yet. On your knees, with your ass up, and your face burried into the pillows, she couldn’t keep herself from spreading your folds apart to see just how slick you were; and of course she’d point it out. “All wet and ready for me, how cute.” She was growing cocky at how good of a listener you were, how you never complained and took her without a second thought.

With a press on your entrance, Sevika gave your ass a rough slap— which you whined at— before gripping onto your tied hands with her mech hand. “You gonna take it like a good girl?” Tone all playful, your girlfriend tilted her head to get a better look at the way your cunt fit perfectly around her tip. It was as if you were meant for it. “Mm-hm, I will, Vika.” Voice shaky, you prepare yourself for the night of your life. To be fucked for your good behavior.

With a gasp leaving your lips, you feel your insides squish against your girlfriend’s cock. She’d went hard and deep, and she wouldn’t stop. She gave no warning and pounded in and out, giving you no time to react. “Look at you, all pretty and tired up.” Her words were gruffed out from the excitement you gave her. The room was full of your moans, your girlfriend’s grunting, the contact between her cock and your pussy, and the squelching of your wetness. It was already too much to handle and it had only been a good minute. Your walls were closing and you were sure you couldn’t last long; even though you wanted to keep feeling the warmth pool in your core.

Sevika’s grip on the ribbon tied around your wrists was tight, it even helped keep her pace steady and strong. She was practically blowing her cock inside of you. With the view of your backside, your girlfriend silently admired you. Your hair, the way it sat perfectly on your back, and your moans that turned her on furthermore. They were sweet and damn hot. “You’re.. damn good for me.” Slapping your ass a few hard times, she increased her speed and fucked you until your moans were desperate pleads. “Vika! Shittt, I can’t— I can’t go on!..” it was hard to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure jolting around your body, from your pussy to your brain it was too good to be real. “Cum on it, doll.” Her smirked out demand, she wanted it messy.

And messy was what you gave her.

Head dropping, mind hazy, you let your orgasm come. Whimpering into the pillows, you cum all over her cock that was dug deep into your pussy. She didn’t pull out, nor did Sevika want to. Your cum was practically dripping off her strap, and she liked how slick it now looked. Your walls clenched around your girlfriend as you shuddered, feeling every bit of the orgasm Sevika had provided. The feeling was unbearably good, so much so that it could drive you wild.

Pulling out, your girlfriend ran her finger over your cunt before licking your cum off.

“Sweet as ever.”

[tmpttion]

i feel like a truck ran over me

[gorgeys]

uptown girl ★ jackie taylor x 90sbaddie!fem!reader

the uptown girl has her eye on you, the backstreet boy girl

word count: 3200 warnings: smoking, jackie and reader being cute asf a/n: here's the shitty mood board i made for the 90sbaddie!fem!reader to give you an idea of what i was picturing. i love this pairing sm so expect more blurbs/fics! also lmk if you have any thoughts about them bc i'm foaming at the mouth (to the anon that sent one in my inbox: i love you sm i'm gonna write a lil blurb abt that soon!)

jackie taylor, jeff sadecki, and their cult of friends were characters stolen from a cheesy high school movie.  the clean cut jocks gelled their hair back and drove shiny red cars, while the girls dawned designer outfits and flashed million dollar smiles.  as the children of wiskayok's elite, the luxuries of life were handed to them on a silver platter.  one of those luxuries was the pre-signed checks they used to buy all the liquor and beer kegs imaginable for a bonfire party like this one.

while they gathered on one side of the wooded space, their rich laughter rising in the warm air, their antithesis huddled together on the other side.

that was you and your friends of course.  sitting on the hood of your friend's ford mustang—the car he said he found and totally didn't hotwire—anyone could see why.  with beat-up leather jackets instead of lettermans and breath that constantly smelled of smoke, you and your friends were the furthest from wiskayok's polished royalty.

your group's reputation for ditching school and stealing from liquor stores made you the "wrong crowd" that parents warned their children about.  some even went as far to call you guys a "gang," but that was mostly the classism talking.

it was obvious that none of you were drowning in the same cash that the taylors and sadeckis of the world were.  in fact, those families would have preferred it if you and your friends didn't live in such close proximity to them and their perfect children.

not that any of it mattered to you.  you only lived for a good time.

you sat beside two of your girl friends on the trunk of the car, legs dangling as you passed a cigarette between the three of you.  more of your friends stood around, sipping on beers and telling loud jokes while ignoring the sideways glances and upturned faces of those around you.

your best friend nudges your shoulder and brings the cigarette between her fingers to your lips.

"don't look now, but jackie taylor keeps looking over here," she says eyes flitting behind your head to where you had spotted jackie earlier, tangled in jeff's arms.  "what did you do this time?"

you never would have mingled with jackie taylor if it wasn't for soccer.  the two of you had been on the team since you were freshmen, and you'd somewhat become friends despite your differences as jackie taylor was never one to care for stereotypes. though, as the team captain, she wasn't afraid of getting on your case when you showed up to practice with cigarette between your teeth or when she heard of your latest adventures through the grapevine.

"y/n, you have to stay focused on nationals," she'd scold you in the locker room, only evoking an eye roll out of you.  it was hard to take that stern look on her face seriously when it was so darn cute.

"yeah, yeah, whatever," you'd say, her eyes lingering on you as you brushed past her and walked away.

you shared those stories with your friends, so your best friend could only assume you'd done something new to upset her.  what you hadn't told them was that you and jackie had started spending time together outside of soccer.

it was unusual when she approached you after practice, asking if you wanted to see a new movie with her, since your friendship had been strictly limited to soccer and school.  but you had already been looking forward to seeing that movie, why not with jackie?

it turned out that you enjoyed hanging out with jackie more than you thought you would.  her light was infectious and your cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the night.  you were surprisingly glad that you had blown off your friends for her.

since then, you'd hung out with her once at her house and another time at the retro diner you frequented.  you guys weren't best friends by any means, but you slowly found yourself growing more comfortable around jackie.

"i didn't do anything this time," you say, pulling the cigarette from your lips.  almost everyone gives you a suspicious look.  "i swear, guys!"

"then what's her deal?  she's been looking over at you all night," your friend says, stealing the cigarette back.

"for real?" you ask. you're aware of everyone's eyes on you, wondering what the hell jackie taylor wants with you.

your friend nods her head, cueing you to finally look over your left shoulder toward jackie.  you find her already looking back at you from a distance.

she's leaning against jeff's car, facing you with her arms crossed over her chest and a cup of something in her hand.  jeff and her other friends are in the middle of a conversation, but she seems removed from it.

when she catches your gaze, she picks her hand up and gives you a wave.  her effortless smile reaches her eyes, and you almost can't believe how happy she looks to see you.

you raise your hand in a casual wave and a weak smile, ignoring the strange feeling in your chest.  you quickly turn back toward your friends.

you're not sure if it's jackie's disarming smile or knowing she's been staring at you that makes your chest tighten.  or if it's the feeling of your friends' eyes watching you share a moment with her, little miss perfect, that makes you uncomfortable.

either way, it's something you don't want to think about.  it's not like you and jackie would ever be more than what you were right now.  you tried not to worry yourself with what could be, rather you chose to focus on what was.

but the looks your friends throw your way are hard to ignore.  one of the guys breaks the silence with a cat call whistle.

"so, jackie taylor, huh?" he asks, an irritating smirk tugging at his lips.  you look back at him with a deadpan expression.

"what about her?"

he just looks at you for a moment, wondering if you're being serious or not, before he decides that you are.

"are you kidding?  did you see her?" he asks, stunned by your blindness.

"what?" you ask with furrowed brows, still not catching on.

he doesn't answer, but shows you instead.  he puts on a stupid, exaggerated smile and waves enthusiastically in an overdramatic impersonation of jackie.  the excitement in his eyes mimics jackie's, and laughter echoes around you.

"come on, she did not look like that," you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"oh yes she did," he says before taking a puff of his cigarette.  "she practically had heart eyes when you looked at her."

"no, jackie's just like that with everyone," you insist, though you're not sure how much you believe your own words.  you can't help but second-guess yourself: was she really that happy to see you?

"no, she is definitely not," one of the other guys says.

"see, i told you!

"yeah, girls only look at you like that when they want to hit."

you smack your friend's shoulder and shoot him a look, though he's more amused than hurt.  you're not too surprised by his instigating.

"honestly, i second that," your best friend says from beside you.  you nearly get whiplash from how fast you turn towards her, in disbelief that she would join in on this stupid joke.  "what?  she was kinda giving you a look."

"what look?" you ask too eagerly.

"like...the look," she says, a smile forming after she notices the awe on your face.  "what?  is it that crazy?"

"there's no way," you say, shaking your head.  you look around and suddenly realize the only person you can convince is yourself.  "oh my god, is everyone seeing this?"

the chorus of nods and agreement hits you like a ton of bricks.

"jesus," you say, running a hand through your hair.  "is that why she wanted to hang out?" you mumble, more so to yourself.

"hang out?" one of the girls suddenly exclaims, outraged by this revelation.  "you didn't tell us you guys were hanging out!"

"yeah, cause it wasn't that-"

"well, it's confirmed then," one of the guys says.  "jackie taylor wants you," he says in a teasing, sing-songy voice.

in a matter of seconds, it seems that everyone joins in to tease you into oblivion.

"don't know why she'd go for a backstreet fucker like you, though," your best friend says with a laugh, smacking the back of your head.

you try to laugh along, but you're still not convinced that jackie taylor wants you.  you're trying to put the pieces together in your head, but they're not fitting.

"yeah, she's your uptown girl!" one of the louder guys shouts.

not even a second later he's jumping to the middle of the group and breaking out into song.

"uptown girl!  she's been livin' in her uptown world!" he sings horribly.  he pulls up the collar of his leather jacket while dancing flamboyantly.  without missing a beat, another guy joins in, matching his energy.  "i bet she's never had a backstreet guy!  i bet her momma never told her why!"

you and your friends are left in stitches watching the scene.  you clutch your stomach in a belly laugh as nearly all of the group joins in singing, not caring if anyone else notices.

"i'm gonna try for an uptown girl!"

everyone in a fifty foot radius catches sight of your friends causing an unnecessary scene, most of them scoffing and shaking their heads at you.  but not jackie taylor, who finds you keeled over in laughter and smiles in her starry-eyed way.

you're so free, she thinks.  so happy and lively and unapologetic.  you're so you.  and you're so unbothered by others' opinions and detached from their expectations, a breath of fresh air from the world she lives in.  it's what drew her to you in the first place and what pushed her to this new level of adoration.

she wants what you have.  she wants you.

watching you laugh and joke so unashamedly with your friends, she imagines herself beside you.  she imagines being tucked into your side and leaning her head on your shoulder.  she imagines hearing your infectious laughter right in her ear.

instead she's stuck listening to jeff and his friends talk about the game for the tenth fucking time.  she forces a smile every once in a while, but you're consuming her thoughts.  especially when you look so damn good from across the bonfire.  she couldn't stop staring if she tried.

it gets to the point where she can't settle for watching anymore.  she feels too far away from you.  she needs you up close.  she needs to feel your eyes on her.  she needs to see that smile reserved only for her.

after your laughter has died down, jackie catches your eyes straying back over to her, and she strikes.

you notice her mouth something from across the bonfire.  you think you know what she's saying, but you need confirmation.

'what?' you mouth back, eyebrows knitting together.

jackie pushes herself off of jeff's car and takes a few confident steps toward you.

'come here,' she mouths again.  this time her two fingers making a clear come hither motion.

without another thought, you slide off the trunk of the car.  you don't even care what she wants from you; if she's telling you to come over there, you're going over there, no questions asked.  you snatch the cigarette from your friend's hand before you leave.

"hey!  i was-"  her eyes follow yours.  "oh."

everyone catches on and suddenly you're hearing cat calls and "oohs" from every direction. 

"go get 'em, tiger!" your best friend says, punctuating her words with a smack on your ass.

you bite your lip to hide your smile as you walk away from your obnoxious friends and towards jackie.

she fluffs up her bouncy curls with her hand as she walks toward you, a confident, vibrant smile fixed on her lips.  you think she looks the closest to perfect a human being could achieve, especially in that black dress with the pink floral print.  you remember seeing it in her closet when you were at her house last week.

"that dress is goregous, jackie.  you'd look so good in it," you said, leaning back on your elbows on her bed.  she turned away from you so you wouldn't see the blood rushing to her cheeks.

it seems like she took your words to heart.

"hey," she says when she meets you halfway, her smile growing impossibly larger.  it's contagious.

"hey," you say, leaning back and placing your free hand in your back pocket.  as you do, the hem of your skin-tight crop top rises.  jackie's eyes are instinctively attracted the growing sliver of skin between your top and the low waistband of your baggy jeans.

she swallows before her eyes rise back to your face.

"you look really pretty," she says.  "you always do."

"stop it, jackie," you say, trying to hide your growing smile by bringing the cigarette to your lips.  she doesn't miss it.

"stop what?" she asks, grinning and leaning closer to you.  there's nothing she loves more than playfighting with you.

"flattering me," you say, following her lead and stepping closer.  you take a drag of the cigarette then turn your head to exhale the smoke.  jackie's eyes are trained on your lips as they from a perfect 'o'.

"i'm not," she says, fingers catching on the chain of one of the necklaces layered over your chest.  "because i mean it."

she sounds so genuine that your heart aches beneath her fingers.  she tugs on the pendant of one of your necklaces, bringing you even closer.

"well, that means something coming from you.  you look perfect, as usual" you say.

she can't hide her reddening cheeks this time, nor her stupid smile.  she hums sweetly.

"good answer," she says, sharing a chuckle with you.  "can i get a drag?" she asks, nodding toward your hand.

you wordlessly lift the cigarette up, offering it to her.  instead of taking it from your ring-clad hand, she grabs your wrist.  with your hand still holding the cigarette, she pushes it between her lips and inhales, keeping her eyes locked on yours the entire time.

you've known jackie taylor to be touchy and warm with all of her friends, but this felt different.  maybe it was your friends getting in your head, but whatever jackie was doing felt reserved only for you.  as much as you wanted to deny it, you liked it that way.

"wow, jackie taylor smokes?" you tease before she drops your hand.  "don't you know it's bad for you, your highness?"

she intentionally blows the smoke in your face, causing you to wince and frantically wave it away with your free hand.

"oops, didn't see you there," she says with a self-satisfied grin.

"hmm, right."

with smoke still clouding your vision, jackie takes the opportunity to glance back down at the bare skin of your stomach.  she feels the urge to hook her fingers in the loops of your belt and pull you impossibly closer.  she holds back for now.

"so what were you and your friends singing about?"

"oh, um..."

we were singing about you jackie!

"just, y'know, being stupid as usual," you shrug.  you couldn't scare her with the truth.

"well, it looked like fun," she says, almost longingly.

you were aware of how jackie resented her own friends sometimes and you truly felt for her.  you remember her twirling her straw around in her milkshake while she confessed that everything felt so fake and forced with them, and especially jeff.

that's why she was so attracted to the raw, unfiltered essence of you and your group.  maybe it was just her privileged curiosity talking, but you could tell she was fascinated with how different your life was from hers.

"y'know, you could...hang with us sometime?  i mean, i could introduce you to everyone, if you want," you say casually.

"really?" she asks, eyes instantly lighting up. 

she wants to be immersed in your world.  she wants to be immersed in you. 

"i mean, it wouldn't be weird?"

"no, everyone's pretty cool.  it doesn't have to be a big deal or anything...or we could just hang out if you'd like that," you say, trying to play it cool but feeling unusually excited.

"yeah," she says, grinning beautifully.  "we should totally hang out first.  like, whenever you're free, you should come over." 

she pauses for a second, biting her lip.  her eyes scan your face for a sign of disinterest, but she can't find any.  so, she steps closer to you, her fingers creeping toward your belt.

"or, if you wanna go right n-"

the sound of screaming scares both of you and jackie jumps back, her hand nervously falling to her thigh.  you look over jackie's shoulder and she turns, only to find your teammates all shouting over each other while trying to separate shauna and taissa.  it seems they've attracted everyone's attention as randy only adds to the chaos by shouting "cat fight."

jackie audibly groans, partly because she hates to see her team fighting, but mostly because they've infringed on her time with you.  she stomps toward them and, though you don't want to get involved in whatever is going on, you feel the need to follow her.

"enough!" she yells in her captain voice, so different from the way she had been speaking to you.  she immediately silences everyone.

she sighs and looks back at you for a second, almost as an apology for their behavior and how they've derailed your night.

"yellowjackets, with me, now!" she shouts, stomping away from the bonfire and toward the darker part of the woods.

while the others follow her reluctantly, you don't move, hoping you might be able to sneak away from this trainwreck while you still can.  but, as if she could feel the absence of your presence, jackie turns and finds you standing too far away from her.

she walks back over to you and grabs the same wrist she had held just moments ago.

"sorry," she murmurs, eyes softening for you.  "but you too," she says, before dragging you along with her as if she had separation anxiety.

you look over your shoulder back at your friends, who are all too amused by you and jackie.  most of them are making lewd gestures like scissoring their fingers together or thrusting their hips just to tease the two of you.  you can only send them a strong middle finger before jackie whisks you away entirely, though you can hear the remnants of their obnoxious laughter.

you look down at your wrist and the tight grip jackie has on it.  she doesn't need to be guiding you like this anymore, but you don't mind.  if you're being honest, you like it.

you slide your wrist out of her grip for only a second before you place your hand fully in hers.  she looks back at you, anger dissipating from her face, and you give her hand a gentle squeeze.  a smile creeps onto her lips, and she momentarily forgets the situation at hand.

if anyone was proof that opposites attract, it was definitely you two.

[beloveds-embrace]

I've fallen down this rabbit hole of COD fanfics and I think your writing is awesome and I really enjoy your Poly 141 x roommate!reader and it got me thinking about the first month that you live with them and how weird it probably was.

You’re like a cryptid in the beginning, awkward and determined not to take up a lot of space. The guys see you at odd times during the day or night. You see them at odd times. Like I can imagine one of them, probaby Simon catching you going through the fridge at like 2 in the morning. You stare at each other as you shuffle past with what looks to be a handful of loose lunch meat. Simon is concerned.

Also I bet they forget you live with them on occasion at least to start off with. Like some of your clothes get left in the laundry and get mixed with theirs and the guys are just like ????

I imagine they have to tell you that you can ya know put your dishes in the cupboards, leave your shoes in the entryway, or that you can simply just exist in this space because it’s your home now too.

Thank you sm!!

The first month is, unsurprisingly to everyone, definitely the hardest for you especially if you’d never had roommates before, or roommates like them. You are afraid of overstepping any hidden boundaries, stressed because of moving, college and life in general, and it’s just not a fun time for you.

With the way you are always coming and going, they’d thought you just like to eat outside with your friends, or somewhere else you’d prefer. They think up until Simon catches you not once, not twice, but several times late into the nights eating leftovers like a bird pecking at seeds.

After that last time, though, you start finding whole plates left for you in the fridge, covered and a little note declaring it for you, their resident night owl. It’s such a sweet action you might sniffle just a little. Just a little.

It’s not just lunches and dinners; Kyle is also concerned when he learns that no, you aren’t a wild party animals always out and about and that’s why they never see your shoes, but it’s because you have your own shoe rack inside your room.

In another instance, Johnny accidentally forgets about you and thinks the lovely looking parfait in the fridge is one of the guys trying out new flavours, and eats it.

He doesn’t realize it’s yours until you stumble out of your room, bleary-eyed, and make a beeline to the fridge. He’s watching from the corner of his eye, and gets confused when you just… stare.

“Something wrong, lass?”

“My parfait…”

“…Och, that was yours?”

He does get you another one as an apology, but also makes a mental note to not forget about you again.

As for the laundry; yes. Yes. Kyle and Johnny had a fun time watching the unimpressed look on Simon’s face when they found pink, striped socks with little ghosts on them and asked him if he was getting into fashion.

They are good sports about it, though! Not bothered at all, and they simply fold yours as well if it winds up in theirs. No harm done; you clean up the whole apartment when they are deployed, what’s a little folding in comparison to that?

But inevitably, a month and a half in, they do need to have that conversation. This place is meant for you, too. You are taking up space that is yours, that is meant to be yours, so no more keeping everything in your own room like you are a hermit.

By month two, your shoes have joined theirs, your chair at the kitchen table has a few stickers, and your favorite throw blanket is also their favorite because you know where the good places to buy them are.

[starlightslvtt]

summary: Y/N and Lu’s fierce academic rivalry takes a turn when Lu’s harsh words in the tension of the moment leave him filled with regret. His heartfelt apology & attention to Y/N’s passions sparks an unexpected shift from enemies to something more. As tension turns to longing, they realize their competition was only the beginning of their story.

tropes: enemies to lovers, academic rivals, introver(ish) reader x extrovert luigi, mean/bully luigi, fluff, slow burn romance!

୨ৎ authors note:omg this fic is my first ever one so hopefully i wrote it well. I’ve had this scenario running in my mind for so long & now I’ve finally wrote about it! also this song reminds me of lulu soso much?! hopefully you all enjoy reading it. if anyone has any tips on how I can improve my writing please do share! anyways happy reading! ily all sm!!

“Studying again, Y/N?” Lu drawled, his smirk laced with condescension as he plopped down at the desk beside hers in the library. “You do know there’s an entire world outside of textbooks, right?”

Y/N didn’t even glance up from her notes. “And you do know that stuffing your face with food while pretending to be an academic weapon doesn’t actually make you one?”

His jaw tightened, a flash of irritation flickering in his caramel-brown eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Y/N finally turned, leveling him with a cool stare. “And neither does arrogance, Mangione.”

Lu huffed, crossing his arms. “Call me that one more time, and I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Beat me in our next exam? Oh wait, you’ve never done that before.”

The tension between them was suffocating, their unspoken rivalry a fire that never seemed to burn out. For years, they had been at each other’s throats—vying for the top spot, trading barbed insults between lectures, and tearing each other apart in debates. It wasn’t personal. Or at least, that’s what Y/N had always told herself.

Until one day, Lu took it too far.

“You know, Y/N,” he said, leaning against the hallway lockers, his voice laced with something crueler than usual, “it’s kind of pathetic how you spend all your time studying. No friends, no social life—what’s the point of being the smartest in the room if there’s no one around to care?”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around the books in her arms. The words stung more than they should have. Maybe because there was truth in them.

Lu’s smirk faltered. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t meant for the flash of hurt in her eyes. But it was too late.

Later that evening, regret clawed at him as he sat at the dinner table, picking at his food. His mom and sisters exchanged a knowing look.

“What’s wrong?” his sister, Maria, asked, nudging him.

“I… I said something really awful to Y/N today.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know why. We were just—caught up in the competition, I guess.”

His mom frowned. “Apologize properly, like a man. Own up to your mistake, and she will forgive you.”

Lu nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking… she likes homemade cookies.”

“and how do you know that?” Luciana his other sister asked.

“I heard her talking to someone once, on the phone. She was talking about all the things she likes to do but doesn’t have time for any of it.” he mentions.

Which is how he found himself standing outside Y/N’s house the next afternoon, a baby pink container with a ceramic bow on top holding freshly baked cookies in hand, and his mom hovering beside him with a too-pleased expression. His friends—because of course they had to come and witness his misery—stood nearby, grinning.

Y/N opened the door, her eyes narrowing at the sight of him. “Mangione?”

He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Uh. These are for you. I—” He sighed. “I was an ass. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you work hard, and—look, I just, I’m sorry.”

Y/N glanced at the cookies, then at his mom, then back at him. Slowly, she took them. “You made these?”

“With help,” he admitted. “But mostly me.”

His friends erupted into teasing remarks.

“Wow, Mangione’s got a soft side.”

“Just date already.” Tracy his friend yelled out, teasing.

Lu groaned. Y/N rolled her eyes, but a faint pink dusted her cheeks.

And somehow, after that, everything shifted. The insults became playful. The rivalry felt lighter. The long nights of studying became shared instead of solitary. And somewhere between the stolen glances, the laughter, the way their fingers brushed when they reached for the same book.

They stopped being enemies.

And they started being something else entirely.

[xxchumanixx]

I know it says requests closed, ok? But i'll leave this here until you take requests ❤️

also i looove your work sm

can you do one with tim bradford x fem!reader with a lot of angst, hurt to comfort something bad? like the reader gets hurt, kidnapped something very bad outside work.

the reader is lucy's best friend and tim's gf, maybe the reader being a rookie at the same time as lucy

and the reader gets in some trouble and it becomes progressively worse but she didn't say anything to anyone bc she's a cop and think she can handle it?

but in the end it's like really bad and tim is desperate looking for her, and his world crushes when he finds her?

something similar to 2x11 (that ep broke me into pieces and the scene with tim and lucy buried my heart right in hell) but his desperation is waay worse bc it's about the reader and he loves her

lots of love ❤️

Breaking Point

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: a lot of angst, hurt, mentions of blood, fluff

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello love, omg it's been soo long I'm soooo sorry! This is not proofread yet, but I hope you'll like it! Love you!

Also, don't know if anyone else has that problem, but every time I make something fat or cursive, it changes the whole text after a few seconds. This happened after an update, and it's SO annoying!

OMG

Anyways, enjoy!

Listen, I know what you might think now.

Okay, maybe I don't. But to get captured and tortured wasn't your intention when this started.

Hell, of course it wasn't.

But you couldn't have predicted this either.

Neither could you have predicted how an encounter with a certain gangster would end - with you doing whatever he says.

At least he had the decency to only let you make his wrongdoings disappear.

It all went good.

That was, until one day you said no to him. It took him ten hours of his patience to kidnap and torture you, leave you for every cop to see what a shitty job you had done for this city.

And to your fellow colleagues.

You had only graded p2, together with Lucy and John. Lucy and you were best friends; it had instantly clicked once you started your training together.

You had been the first to know about her and John, had helped her through the heartbreak and all that had followed.

She, in turn, was the first to know about you and Tim.

You had started dating when you were still a rookie - luckily not his, or else it would have made everything a lot more complicated.

So, when everything seemed to go perfect, it had to come some shit along the way. It just couldn't have stayed perfect, could it?

This shit was named Luis El Ferno.

A wealthy son of an even wealthier mafia family that had a thing for speeding and collecting tickets. Along with other things that piled up in his file.

And as luck had it, he sought you out to be the perfect candidate for blackmailing. So when the first picture of your almost naked form landed in your mail, you had the shock of your life.

The photo was paired with a letter, saying if you didn't do as he said, he'd ruin your career. And not only that.

He'd ruin you completely.

So you complied, hoping to handle this on your own. Tim was clueless, as was the rest of them all.

Things soon took turns, though, getting worse the more time passed. Then, when he wanted you to do more than just cleaning up his mess, you said no.

You told yourself it was for the better.

You were a cop after all. You could handle this, right?

Big mistake.

When he found out he couldn't threaten you with the photos anymore, at least not enough for you to give in, he let his men kidnap you.

They punched you and used you as their personal boxing bag. They didn't stop when you were pleading, and they didn't stop when you fell silent.

They only stopped when there was nothing left to beat.

And when you closed your eyes, you had never been more grateful for the comfort of nothingness.

----

"You have to be kidding me!" Lucy laughed, leaning back on the sofa. "No way! Tell me you're lying!"

You laughed with her, shaking your head. "I wish I was." you said. "It was so embarrassing! For a moment, I thought he'd let me walk back to the station!"

She laughed louder, biting her lip.

"I would have loved to see that!" she said. "I can imagine the look on Tim's face so clearly!"

You shook your head, smiling. "Yeah, you should have seen the way he tried to keep his cool." you told her. "The poor lady excused herself so many times that her puke was already dry when she finally was in the car."

Lucy doubled over with laughter, the glass in her hand shaking threateningly. "Oh my god!" she breathed out, wiping at her eyes. "Damn, I need that body cam material!"

Eyes widening, you shook your head. "God, no!"

She laughed even more at your shocked expression, wiping at her eyes once more. Oh, she would somehow get that footage, she was sure of that.

It was a night with your bestie, a tradition that had developed early in your training as a rookie. You would sit together, drink cocktails, and do whatever you wanted.

Painting your nails, watching sappy movies, or simply talking.

It was something you never would have missed out on. So, when you didn't show up that day and Lucy didn't get a message from you saying that you wouldn't make it, either, she started to get worried.

She knew you better than most people did, so she knew something must be wrong. Calling Tim, her fingers danced over the rim of her glass, nerves piling up.

"Hey, do you know where Y/N is?" she asked when he picked up, not wasting any time.

Tim frowned on the other end of the line. "I thought she would be with you?" he gave back, eyes scanning the living room.

Your things weren't there, so you must have been on your way to Lucy, right?

"Well, she isn't here, and she didn't text me." Lucy responded, causing Tim's frown to deepen. You were reliable, you wouldn't just cancel plans without telling her.

Let alone disappear.

"I haven't heard from her since this morning." Tim admitted, biting his cheek. "I mean, we had an argument, but still, she would at least text."

Lucy sighed, nodding to herself.

"I'm worried, Tim." she admitted. "If she didn't text any of us, nor show up..." She bit down on her finger, trying to get rid of the horrible thoughts swarming her mind.

Tim swallowed heavily. He already felt guilty for not checking up on you earlier, and the fact that they didn't know where you were, made it even worse.

"I'm heading to the station." he decided, getting up with the phone still pressed to his ear. Lucy nodded on the other end. "Okay, I'll meet you there."

He knew better than to argue with her. She'd do anything for the people she loved.

----

"Okay, one last chance." he whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver in disgust. His breath reeked of whiskey, his shirt of cigarettes. "I really don't want to rearrange that pretty face of yours."

You swallowed heavily but didn't budge. He wouldn't get you to let a corpse disappear.

Never.

He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. "And here I thought we were friends." he mused, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You jerked your head away from him, glaring up at him. "We're not friends, Luis." you told him angrily. He scoffed, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek with a harsh slap.

Your head whipped to the side, skin aflame.

Tears pricked in your eyes, but your anger only intensified.

"Do you really think you're in command here?" he seethed, harshly grabbing your chin to make you look at him, fingers digging into your burning flesh. "Dont forget who you're dealing with!"

You spit in his face in response.

Another big mistake.

You really should have listened to your mother never to get involved with such people.

Mothers always were right, weren't they?

Luis face became progressively darker, turning redder. He roared, and his fist made contact with your gut, knocking the wind out of you.

So much for the gut feeling.

"Maybe I should teach you a lesson." Luis grumbled, shaking his hand. "You little slut are stepping out of line, and I really don't like that!"

You swallowed, knowing what this man was capable of doing.

Or let do.

He whistled, smirking at you. Two men entered the large room that could have worked as bouncers - ex-military if you'd had to guess.

Luis turned his attention to the men, speaking extra loud so you wouldn't miss his words.

"This little whore needs to be taught a lesson." he told them. "Or two. She's dancing out of line, and I can't have that. Vladimir-" he turned to one of them and your blood ran cold.

Russians.

"You said your wrist ached, right? Maybe a little punching will help?"

Vladimir, the bigger of the too, chuckled darkly. "When did it not?"

His knuckles cracked, and your eyes closed, silently praying Tim would find you before it was too late.

----

"I want every available cop in this station." Tim spoke as Grey entered the on call room. His brows knitted at Tim's words, clearing his throat.

"Bradford, what is going on?" he wanted to know, all eyes on them. "Y/N is missing." Tim explained, thumbs hooked into his waistband, so his fingers wouldn't fumble with everything they got hold of.

Grey's brows knitted further before he nodded. "Are you sure she's missing?" he asked. Tim nodded, eyes downcast. "Yes, sir."

Grey hummed, clearing his throat again. "Okay." he said, swallowing. "Where was she last seen?"

They started to form a plan, checking your last locations. Your phone hadn't been responsive yet, not being able to be tracked.

They were checking out possible locations on a map, as Tim's phone suddenly rang with a message, then another. He fished for his phone, hoping it was you.

His hopes were heard.

Without further checking the message, he clicked on it, mind working overtime.

Then, his blood ran cold, and everything suddenly came crashing to a halt.

The message consisted of a photo and a text.

A photo of you, battered and bruised, blood staining your body and clothes. They were torn, your head hanging low.

Under the photo, the message read: "Your officer, Y/N Y/L/N, has done a very shitty job. Only fair for her to pay the price for it."

Tim could feel all eyes on him, the room suddenly eerily silent. His fingers trembled, his whole body trembled.

He could hear Grey distantly, asking him what happened. He could feel his hand on his shoulder, turning him towards him, but everything seemed to be in a blur.

Grey's gaze fell to the phone, and his heart stopped. "Oh god." he mumbled, a lump forming in his throat.

Lucy stepped forward, heart hammering nervously in her chest. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "What happened?" she wanted to know, repeating Grey's words.

Neither of them reacted for a second, glued to the spot, eyes on the phone. Moments later, it clattered to the floor as Tim stumbled backward. Lucy took the opportunity to grab it, turning the display towards her.

She wished she hadn't.

Her breath got stuck in her throat at what she saw. She read the text a few times, mind running haywire. Her hands shook, and she had to place the phone down, or otherwise it would have fallen for a second time.

They could only hope you weren't as dead as you looked.

----

It was ugly.

First you found it strange, then funny that they were counting the amount of times they punched you.

They must have been paid for punches.

After the tenth punch, you fell silent. You had pleaded for them to stop only moments earlier, as they took turns in punching and slapping you.

Neither of them cared for your feeble attempts. It only seemed to spur them on.

Every part of your body ached by now, your numb mind telling you to be grateful that they weren't doing other things to you.

It felt like you'd been hit by a truck numerous times.

You weeped as a blow to your stomach knocked any remaining air from your lungs.

That was all you could muster now.

A small weep.

Your head felt like it was wrapped in clouds, vision blurry, and slowly fading. Your hope of getting out of this alive withering by the second.

How were they supposed to find you? How should they track you when Luis took your phone, most likely destroying it?

A punch in your face made your head spin, as everything seemed to blur together, dark spots obscuring your vision further.

And as you thought all hope was lost, you slowly sank into the comfort of unconsciousness.

----

Time seemed to tick in slow motion.

Tim couldn't keep still, he had to move, trying to match his racing heart.

The fear he felt cut deep, like a knife. It bored its way into his heart, infecting it with its poison. He had only felt such fear twice before - once when his ex-wife left him overnight, and the second time when Lucy was buried alive.

But it didn't compare to the fear he felt now. It seemed tenfold.

Grey had to calm him multiple times, or else he would have stormed out there, searching every building for you.

He would have done everything for you.

After what felt like an eternity to Tim, they were able to track the location where the photo of you was taken.

The photo that was glued to the back of his eyelids, not letting him think of anything else.

He felt guilty, an ugly feeling that crept into his very being, infiltrating all of his nerves, his bones, and very fibers.

It was the worst feeling of them all.

He blamed himself - blamed himself for accusing you of having secrets eatlier that day.

That he was right he didn't know then.

But he'd seen your change in demeanor, the way you would pull away from him.

It hurt him so much that he caused an argument.

One he was deeply regretting now.

He had to remind himself to pay attention, to wait for the signal to enter the warehouse they located you in.

How cliché.

When Grey gave the signal, Tim's heart stumbled before it doubled its speed.

Time to move.

They walked forward in formation before splitting, getting ready to bust the door open and head inside, facing whatever might lurk behind the heavy metal door.

When the door was opened, he was the first to enter the large room, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings, gun drawn, as he flinched at the sight.

Tim believed his heart had stopped.

If he hadn't been standing upright, he'd thought he'd died - even though that could have changed any second, as he stumbled towards you.

He couldn't tell if you were still breathing, your body hanging limp in the chair in the middle of the warehouse. Your face was bruised - badly, blood wherever his eyes reached.

They stung, tears threatening to push through. But he did his best to keep himself together, even though the gasp Angela let out as she saw you, didn't make it any easier for him.

Falling down on his knees in front of you, he let his gun clatter to the floor, fingers carefully brushing away the hair that was stuck to your bloody face. With trembling fingers, he tried to feel for a pulse, heart stopping when he didn't immediately find one.

He could feel the others stare at him, waiting for an answer.

"Come on!" he mumbled to himself, feeling again as goosebumps covered his skin.

There - it was weak, but it was there.

"She's alive." he managed to get out, knowing that the ambulance was already on the way. Relief flooded him, even though it was short-lived.

You seemed like you would give out any moment.

Nyla walked behind you, carefully cutting the rope that was binding you to the chair - the only thing keeping you upright, as you fell forward and into Tim's arms.

His body shook, but he did his best to suppress it.

He had to be strong for the both of you now.

He cradled you in his arms, biting his lip until it bled, all to keep the tears at bay. Praying to whatever gods may be above to let you survive this.

Losing you would have been too much. It'd have destroyed him irrevocably.

He could hear sirens, swallowing against the lump in his throat that seemed to get bigger as time slowly passed.

He could feel the stares, knew they were asking themselves what you must have done to deserve this.

Hell, he asked himself the same question.

And, most importantly, who did this to you.

Whoever it was wouldn't get far once Tim would have his hands on them.

He barely noticed when the paramedics almost had to pry you from his hands, getting you ready for transport.

He was in the back of the ambulance even before they had carried you in.

His numb fingers dug into his pockets, catching onto something. They gripped hold of it, turning the small object over in his hand, thumb brushing over the velvet.

A ring.

He had meant to give it to you, having noticed how much you had seemed to like it when you first saw it.

Now he wondered if he'd ever have the chance to give it to you.

Once you were settled, they took off, the look on Lucy's face surely going to haunt him for weeks to come.

It mirrored his own emotions perfectly.

Fear, helplessness.

Something he didn't feel often.

----

Steady, rhythmic beating was what brought you back.

An awful sound, yet it was the proof of life.

Your body felt heavy, mind dizzy. Your mouth was dry and you were sure you must have died and went straight to hell.

Blinking your eyes open, they were met by dim light, stars shining on the other side of the big window.

You swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness. As your eyes slowly took in your surroundings, landing on Tim whose head lay on your bed, sleeping peacefully, it all came crushing back.

Tears flooded your eyes, soon the dam breaking. They ran over your face in hot streaks, your bruised skin stinging.

Hands shaking, you brought one of it up to his head, softly brushing through his hair as a sob spilled over your lips.

What you had done was nowhere excusable. They would fire you once they knew what exactly you had done.

You were sure of it.

Tim stirred, disturbed in his sleep. His eyes blinked open, and once they fell on you, he was wide awake, sitting upright.

He scooted closer with his chair, hands gripping your own. Seeing you cry broke his heart.

"It's okay." he shooed, thumbs brushing over the back of your hands before he brought one up, carefully wiping at your tear streaked face. "It's okay, you're safe now."

Your head shook almost automatically, tears and sobs intensifying. "No." you croaked out, sight blurry, and his brows furrowed. "No, it's not okay."

Your head fell back into the cushion, biting your lip as you shook it again.

"What happened?" Tim voiced the question he'd asked himself so many times. "Who did this to you?"

At first, you didn't answer, gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he was about to ask again, your mouth slowly opened.

"I fucked up." you managed to get past your split lips. "I fucked everything up."

Tim had to swallow, doing his best to stay patient. Whatever you did must have been so bad, that it resulted in this.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. "Luis El Ferno." you said his name, blinking rapidly to will away another wave of tears.

The name vaguely rang a bell in Tim's head. He must have been someone they arrested before.

"After we arrested him a few months back, he-" you cut yourself off, fingers cramping around his. "He started to blackmail me with photos someone took of me... naked."

Tim's heart stuttered to a painful halt, eyes widening. Every single thought in his mind came to a stop as your words slowly sank in.

Blackmailed.

Photos of you.

Naked.

He swallowed heavily, that ugly feeling of guilt intensifying.

He should have noticed.

"He wanted me to erase things from his file." you continued, ripping him from his vile thoughts. "And when he asked of me to let a corpse disappear, I said no. Big mistake."

Despite the situation, you managed a humorless, dry laugh, but Tim wasn't in the mood for laughing.

No, he was far closer to breaking something.

Or someone.

"He let his guards 'teach me a lesson', as he said it. To show everyone what a shitty job I did. And he was right."

Tim's gaze snapped back to yours, having been glued to the blanket before. The chair made a nasty sound on the linoleum as he brought it ever closer.

Now he knew what you'd been hiding the past few months.

He would have done the same.

His head shook unbeknownst to him, and he wished he could take you into his arms, hold you close to shield you from all the horror in the world.

But you could barely move, your survival a sole miracle.

He brought your hand to his lips, unable to find the words to assure you everything would be fine.

He knew it wouldn't.

"I'm so sorry." you croaked out, biting your swollen lip as more tears fell. "I know I should have told you, but I was so scared. He said he'd end me if I told someone."

Tim swallowed again, bile rising in his throat at the thought.

Oh, how badly he wanted to have a chat with this man.

Though chat might not be the right word.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. Then his fingers dug into his pocket, taking out the small, velvety box.

He turned it over in his hand before slowly opening it, taking the ring out. It glittered in the dim light, reflecting it.

Your eyes widened at the sight, recognizing it. You had admired it through the jeweler's window, knowing you'd never buy it, because it was way too expensive.

Seeing it now, crushed your heart.

He bad bought it for you.

Tim wiped at his nose before he took your hand, slowly putting the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

Then his fingers encircled yours, holding them tight as he swallowed.

"We'll do this together." he said, looking up at you. "Whatever might come, we'll do it together. I'll fight Grey on it if need be, but you won't leave the LAPD."

Fresh tears gathered in your eyes, blurring your sight. The love you felt for this man was indescribable. And you could only hope you hadn't lost him with what you'd done.

"I love you." he spoke, licking his lip. It tasted salty, and he noticed that a tear of his own had managed to spill. "I promise you I'll be there whenever you need me. We can do this, whatever may come. You and I."

You sobbed, overwhelmed by his words. "I love you, too." you managed to say, not sure how you deserved him. "But I don't know how we'll do that."

He bit his lip, and for the first time since you had been missing, he smiled. It was a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Let me handle that."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @dhundhchrih @augustvandyne @rookietrek @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425

[luviisabella]

hii! This is my first time requesting from you! I absolutely adore your writings, they’re so cute! ANYWAYY my request is katsuki x male reader with a dog quirk that gives them a tail and ears and the reader has a golden retriever personality type and basically katsukis making fun of him for running late, hair messy, tie not done properly, the whole shabang. He’s like “damn do you not know how to tie a tie?” And the reader (without thinking) goes “nope.” and KATSUKI DOES HIS TIE FOR HIM?!?! but that’s not all (I feel like an evil villain hehe) katsuki sees his tail wagging!!! omg this is so long but I can’t get this idea out of my head and I’m too lazy to write it ‼️‼️

— 🐾 annon

Ooh I love this concept, so sorry for the late response ml !! 🫶🏽🫶🏽 However the dog quirk is a great idea, love love love animal quirks <3

For Anon: Male Reader x Katsuki Bakugou

Category: Fluff + Universty AU 💘

[7:35am]

Where the hell is he.

Bakugou was watching the time go by and noticing how you were yet to be seen. Class had started 35 minutes ago and you usually were never late.

[8:20am]

“Alright, I’m going to take a break. Don’t destroy anything while I’m sleeping or I’ll have all of you taking a remedial class.” Mr. Aizawa never failed to come up with an outrageous punishment for his students, even now in university.

Bakugou glanced at the clock one more time before scoffing and getting up. Sero wanted to ask where he was headed but judging by the look on Bakugou’s face, Sero decided to value his life and dignity.

Once Bakugou turned the corner of the hall he ran into someone.

“All this space in the God damn hallway and you can’t-“ he looked down and noticed it was you. You looked like a mess.

Your breathing was frantic, hair sticking up like a compass in all directions. Your tie could’ve been put on backwards and your shirt was half tucked into your pants and half not.

Bakugou didn’t even know where to start with questions.

“You look like shit. What happened ?”

“My alarm.. I accidentally set it for 6:30pm and not am so I woke up like 20 minutes ago” your ears were facing down and your tail sunk. It was clear you rushed to get here and in the process made no effort to notice your appearance.

“Jesus. At least look alive.”

He stepped closer to you and began adjusting your tie. You felt your tail quirk up and immediately shoved it down, keeping your hands behind your back.

You couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. He was so focused on your tie and your shirt you didn’t realize how beautiful he was until you really got a good look at him.

Your tie and shirt were not adjusted but that hair.

“A tornado pick you up on the way here ?” He grinned and you turned your head in embarrassment not realizing your hair looked that bad. He gently placed his hands on certain strands to make it look more decent.

In response, your ears shot up and now your tail wagging back and forth. You were too in awe to realize it, at least not until he pointed it out.

His eyebrow quirked up. “You excited or sum ?” He asked but didn’t stop fixing your hair.

“What ?”

“Your tail’s movin”

You felt your face heat up like a star when he pointed it out. You looked down, no longer wanting to meet his gaze.

“Sorry, that happens when I’m happy or excited”

“Really ?” And he pulled back after taking in your appearance. A small grin on his face.

—

“Looks like your gonna have to come in late more often then” and with that he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Thank God he did because the way your tail stood on its end and your ears perked up, someone would think you just won a million bucks.

And let’s just say...

This was not the last time you showed up late.

I hope you enjoyed this my love !! Again sorry for such a late reply but I did enjoy this concept sm, I honestly kind of want to write something separate about a quirk like this, Thank you for the ask, mwah !! 🫰🏽💖

[fuqnia]

I'll Compliment You Frequently (1) ₊˚⊹♡

♡ kenny mccormick x fem!reader insert | college au, smut

♡ A/N | hi guys!! sorry for the delay, uni has been kicking my ass LOL. kenny was really fun to write for, i love him sm!! i hope u guys enjoy <3 ( i also took into consideration the feedback i got, and tested out a new writing style, so lmk if it works, or not!) i also made kenny kinda perverted... like he does not hold back LMFAO.

♡ C/W | NSFW (18+), ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, kissing, smoking (weed and cigarettes), mentions of blood, drinking, kenny has a filthy mouth ☹️

♡ Synopsis | kenny always told himself it was just practice—just harmless lessons, just an excuse to get his hands on you without giving himself away. but every kiss, every touch, every shaky breath you let out made it harder to pretend. and when you finally looked at him like he was the only one you wanted, he knew—this was never just practice, and he was never letting you go.

♡ I HAD TO SPLIT THIS SHIT INTO THREE PARTS [i hate u tumblr >:(]

event masterlist | part two | part three

"Kenny, are you even listening to me?"

Kenny doesn’t look up. He’s got his pencil balanced between two fingers, rolling it back and forth like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. His physics textbook is open on his lap, filled with equations you’re pretty sure he hasn’t actually read in the last ten minutes.

You groan. “Unbelievable.”

He finally looks up, blinking like he’s just remembered you were talking. “Huh?”

“You weren’t listening.”

Kenny smirks, tilting his head. “Nah, I was. You’re freaking out about your big, life-changing first date.” He shifts, closing his textbook with a lazy thud. “With Damien.” A pause. Then, a slow grin. “Damn, never thought you’d be into the whole spawn of Satan thing. Should I start dressing in all black? Buy some candles? Sacrifice Cartman?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just saying, I didn’t peg you as the type to fall for a guy who probably writes poetry about fire and brimstone.”

At that, your stomach twists—not just from nerves, but because, honestly? You’re still trying to figure out how you ended up here.

You had met Damien a few weeks ago at the beginning of the semester, in one of your shared sociology classes. He had this certain presence, the kind that made people instinctively lean in when he spoke. His dark hair was always perfectly styled, sharp against his pale skin, and he had these striking gray eyes that seemed to study everything—like he was dissecting the world in real time.

He dressed like he’d stepped out of an indie rock band’s music video, all sleek black jeans, worn leather boots, and button-ups with just enough undone to show a silver chain beneath. His answers in class discussions were always thoughtful, maybe a little pretentious, but captivating.

You never expected him to notice you, let alone talk to you, but then one day he did. It started with him borrowing your pen when his ran out of ink, followed by a few casual comments after class. Before you knew it, he was sliding into the seat next to you, effortlessly chatting about everything from sociological theory to obscure albums. Then, out of the blue, he’d asked you out. Just like that.

He’d said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, but you’d been internally screaming ever since. And now here you were, sitting on Kenny’s bed, spiraling.

You groan, flopping onto the edge of his bed. “I don’t like him like that. I just—” You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how to act, or what to wear, or if I’m supposed to flirt or let him make the first move. What if I screw it up?”

Kenny watches you for a second, something flickering behind his eyes. It’s not unreadable—it’s softer than usual, almost thoughtful, but it’s gone before you can place it. He stretches, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… it’s just a date. You talk, you eat, you go home. Not much to screw up.”

You glare. “Wow. Thanks for the wisdom.”

He snorts. “Alright, alright.” He taps his pencil against the textbook, eyes flicking over your face before he sighs. “I don’t know why you’re asking me, though.”

“Because,” you say, exasperated, “you’ve been on, like, a hundred dates.”

Kenny hums, leaning his head back against the wall. “Yeah, and?”

“So you know how this stuff works.”

For a moment, he just studies you. His usual smirk is there, but it’s lazy, a little less cocky than normal. He exhales through his nose, stretching his arms behind his head. “Fine. I’ll help.”

You blink. “Wait, really?”

Kenny shrugs, but there’s an ease to it, like he’d already made up his mind before you even asked. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” His lips twitch. “Just don’t get all weird on me when you realize I give really good advice.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. The only advice you’ve ever given me is ‘don’t be a little bitch’ and ‘always keep cash for bail.’”

Kenny grins. “And have those ever steered you wrong?”

You shove his shoulder lightly. “You’re such a perv.”

That makes him laugh—an actual laugh, warm and unbothered, like you just confirmed something he’s always known about himself. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You roll your eyes. “Literally everything.”

Kenny smirks, kicking at your thigh lazily. “I think you just like calling me names.”

“I think you just like being a perv,” you shoot back.

He shrugs, all mock innocence. “Gotta stay true to myself.”

You both laugh, the usual back-and-forth coming so easily that, for a second, you almost forget why you came here in the first place. But then the nerves creep back in, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Okay, but seriously—what the hell am I supposed to wear?”

Kenny raises a brow. “Uh… clothes?”

You glare. “Wow. Genius.”

He smirks. “I try.”

“No, but seriously.” You sit up, crossing your legs under you, suddenly restless. “Do I go full goth? Full emo? Full e-girl? What’s the move here?”

Kenny blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to get this worked up. “You’re… actually stressing about this?”

“Yes, obviously!” You grab a pillow and press it over your face, groaning into the fabric. “I’ve never done this before, and Damien actually looks like he stepped out of a Hot Topic ad, so if I don’t dress the part, what if he thinks I’m lame?”

Kenny snorts. “Babe, you are lame.”

You rip the pillow away just to smack him with it. He laughs, ducking out of the way, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—you don’t have to be goth to impress him. He’s already taking you out, right? So he clearly likes you as you are.”

You frown, chewing the inside of your cheek. “But what if—”

“No buts.” Kenny leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you. “You could show up in a trash bag, and he’d still think you look good.” A beat. Then, his lips twitch. “Though, if you do go the trash bag route, I’d definitely want to see it.”

You smack his arm. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I! I think you’d rock the hell out of some Hefty.”

You groan, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “This is useless. I’m gonna wear something completely wrong, and he’s gonna realize I have no idea what I’m doing—because I don’t.”

Kenny’s smirk falters for half a second. It’s quick—so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t already staring at him. He exhales, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Look,” he says, his voice softer now, “I don’t think you need to be anything for him. Just wear what makes you feel good, and you’ll be fine.”

You blink at him. “That was… surprisingly solid advice.”

Kenny shrugs, playing it off. “Told you I was good at this.” Then, just as quickly, his smirk returns, all smug and teasing again. “Now, if you really want to impress him, I’ve got a few ideas that involve—”

You cut him off by launching the pillow at his face.

Kenny dodges it at the last second, leaning to the side with an exaggerated whoa before laughing. “Weak throw,” he taunts, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “Zero form, no follow-through. Maybe I should be giving you lessons.”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother with a comeback. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, tracing random patterns in the chipped paint above.

“I’ll probably just lean into Damien’s aesthetic anyway,” you say quietly. “When I do my makeup. When I pick my outfit.”

Kenny doesn’t say anything right away. There’s a small pause, just a couple of seconds, but long enough that you notice it. When he finally speaks, his voice is casual—too casual.

“Yeah?” He shifts, resting his chin in his palm. “So, what’s the plan? Smudged eyeliner? Black lipstick? Maybe some fake fangs to really sell the whole ‘mysterious and brooding’ thing?”

You huff a small laugh. “I’m not trying to cosplay as a vampire, Kenny.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He stretches out on the bed, arms behind his head. “But hey, if that’s your thing, no judgment. I support whatever dark and spooky transformation you’re about to undergo.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, hesitating. “It’s not a transformation,” you mutter. “I just… I don’t know. I want him to think I fit into his world.”

Kenny goes quiet again. You don’t look at him, but you can feel him looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing glances—this one lingers, like he’s debating whether or not to say something.

Then, his voice comes, low and even. “You already do.”

Your brows furrow slightly, and you finally turn your head toward him. “What?”

Kenny shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “You don’t have to look like him to fit in with him. If he’s into you, he’s into you. Not some—” He gestures vaguely. “Knockoff Hot Topic model.”

You exhale, pressing your palms over your face. “God, you make it sound so dumb when you put it like that.”

“That’s because it is dumb.” He nudges your foot with his. “You could show up in sweatpants and still have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “You don’t know that.”

Kenny gives you a look—half amused, half are you serious? “Babe, I do know that. Trust me. He’s already interested. You’re just overthinking.”

You drop your hands and sigh. “That’s all I do.”

Kenny smirks. “Tell me about it.”

You grab the pillow again and whack him with it. This time, you land the hit.

He groans dramatically, flopping onto his side. “Abuse,” he mutters. “This is abuse.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. It’s always like this with Kenny—effortless, familiar, like breathing. You can say the stupidest things, overthink every little detail, and he never makes you feel bad for it. Annoyed? Sure. But not bad.

Your smile fades slightly. “I just don’t wanna mess this up.”

Kenny props himself up on one elbow, looking at you properly now. “You won’t.”

“But what if—”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Nope. We’re not doing this. No what-ifs, no spiraling. You’re gonna go, be your usual, kinda-annoying-but-still-charming self, and it’s gonna be fine.”

You make a face. “That was almost sweet until you insulted me.”

Kenny grins. “Can’t have you getting too comfortable, babe.”

You shake your head but feel some of the tension in your chest ease. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stop spiraling.”

“For now,” Kenny corrects. “Let’s be real, you’ll start up again in, like, twenty minutes.”

You nudge his leg with your foot. “Shut up.”

Kenny just smirks, but there’s something softer beneath it, something he’s not saying. It’s in the way he watches you, the way he seems too relaxed, like he’s holding something back.

You don’t notice it, though. You’re too busy trying to keep your nerves from creeping back in.

Kenny’s phone buzzes against the blanket. He groans, rolling onto his side to grab it, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Oh, shit. I gotta go.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He shoves his phone into his pant pocket and stretches, cracking his back like an old man. “I promised Butters I’d help him with his stupid project for one of his classes.”

You raise a brow. “Wait—project? What, are you teaching a lesson on how to shotgun a beer?”

Kenny smirks. “Tempting, but no. He’s testing out some lesson plans for a class, wants me to pretend to be a first grader so he can practice.”

You snort. “Oh my God. Please tell me you’re gonna mess with him.”

“Obviously.” Kenny grabs his jacket off the chair, slinging it over one shoulder. “I’m thinking full chaos. Maybe some fake tears, throw a tantrum, refuse to share my crayons. Really give him the authentic experience.”

You laugh, standing up to follow him to the door. “He’s gonna regret asking you.”

“He always does.”

You pull the door open, and the two of you step into the hallway. Kenny starts walking backward, hands in his pockets, that lazy smirk still in place. “Hey, by the way—”

You tilt your head. “What?”

His grin widens. “Don’t fuck on the first date.”

Your face heats instantly. “Kenny!”

He barks out a laugh, turning on his heel. “Just saying! Make him work for it, babe.”

“You’re disgusting!” you call after him.

Kenny just throws up a peace sign over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

The walk back to your dorm is quiet, the distant hum of campus life barely registering over the sound of your own thoughts.

As expected, Red isn’t there when you step inside. The room is still, untouched since this morning, save for the half-empty coffee cup on your desk and the pile of blankets twisted at the foot of your bed. The silence presses in, thick with the weight of anticipation, of indecision.

Your closet doors are already open, the clothes inside hanging limply, offering no more answers now than they did before.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples. This shouldn’t be so difficult.

And yet, here you are, standing in front of your closet like you’re waiting for it to choose for you.

Your fingers skim over the fabrics—worn-in band tees, oversized sweaters, your favorite pair of ripped jeans. Comfortable. Familiar. You could throw any of them on and be out the door in five minutes, no second-guessing, no spiral of what ifs. But not tonight.

Your hand moves past them, stopping on something buried near the back. A dress. You barely remember buying it, much less why. It’s different from anything you normally wear—shorter, tighter, the kind of thing designed to be looked at.

Damien would like it. Wouldn’t he?

It’s closer to the kind of thing the girls he talks to wear—the ones who fit effortlessly into his world, who don’t overthink every little thing. You aren’t one of them, but maybe for one night, you could pretend. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be done.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you pull it from the hanger and toss it onto the bed.

The rest comes quickly—heels instead of sneakers, jewelry you barely wear, makeup choices you’ve only experimented with in private. Each layer feels like stepping further into something unfamiliar, like molding yourself into a version of you that doesn’t quite exist.

The mirror doesn’t lie. You look different. Not bad. Not wrong. Just… not you.

You adjust the hem of the dress, shifting under the weight of your own reflection. It’s fine. It’s just for tonight. And tonight, you’re going to be the kind of girl someone like Damien would want. Even if you’re not sure that girl is you at all.

Your nails find your lips before you even realize what you’re doing, teeth scraping against the black polish. The sharp chemical taste spreads across your tongue, bitter and familiar, but you don’t stop. You stare at your reflection, eyes scanning over every detail—how the dress clings, how the heels make your legs look longer, how the makeup sharpens your features just enough. You should feel confident. You should feel excited. Instead, the longer you look, the more something uneasy coils in your stomach, tight and restless.

The room is too quiet. The silence only makes it worse, amplifying the thoughts swirling inside your head. You turn away from the mirror and grab your phone from the nightstand, flipping it over in your hands. Your thumb hovers over Kenny’s name in your messages, hesitating. He would answer. Probably. Even if he was busy helping Butters, he’d at least send something, a dumb joke or an offhanded comment, something that would make you roll your eyes but somehow settle the nerves buzzing under your skin.

You type out a message, then delete it. Then do it again. Then again. He already listened to you spiral about this once today. You don’t need to drag him into another round. Instead, you scroll down your contacts and tap on Stan’s name.

You: hey, does this look okay for a date???

You attach a picture, just a mirror selfie, nothing dramatic. The moment you hit send, you regret it. Stan isn’t exactly the best at responding to texts, and Wendy is probably with him anyway. You back out of the chat before you can overthink it any more and tap on Kyle’s name instead.

You: kyle. fashion emergency.

Nothing.

A full minute passes, and your anxiety only grows.

You bite your nail again, tasting the polish, then open Cartman’s chat. You type out something sarcastic, then delete it. Then something a little more serious, then delete that, too. Finally, you just settle on:

You: be honest, do I look stupid in this???

You wait. And wait. And wait. Nothing.

You refresh the messages. Still nothing. No typing bubbles, no read receipts, no responses. The silence feels even louder now, stretching out across the room, pressing against your ribs. They’re probably just busy. That’s all. It has nothing to do with you. You tell yourself that over and over, but it doesn’t stop the creeping unease from settling deeper inside your chest.

You inhale deeply, pressing the phone against your palm, fingertips tapping anxiously against the sides. The rational part of your brain tells you it’s fine. They’re just busy. There’s no reason to feel like this, no reason for the gnawing pit of unease sitting heavy in your stomach. But it’s there anyway, tightening with every second that passes, with every unanswered text sitting in your inbox.

Maybe Kenny would answer.

You hesitate, staring at his name in your messages. You already talked to him about this once today—more like ranted while he rolled his eyes and gave you half-serious advice. He didn’t seem annoyed, but what if he was? What if you were being clingy? What if you were being weird?

You shake your head. It’s Kenny. He wouldn’t care.

Before you can overthink it, you type out a message.

You: ok, real question. do I look good or do I look like an idiot trying too hard??

You bite your lip, stare at the words for a second, then send a follow-up.

You: don’t be a dick about it. ☹️

You exhale, setting the phone on the bed next to you. He’ll answer. He always does. He might take a second if he’s still with Butters, but it won’t be long. Kenny’s the only person who texts back fast—sometimes instantly, sometimes before you even finish typing. But this time, the seconds drag on. Then a full minute. Then another.

You refresh the messages. Nothing.

You check the time, thumb hovering over the screen like maybe, somehow, that will make the notification appear. But there’s still nothing. No reply. No read receipt. Not even the little typing bubble to tell you he saw it.

Your stomach twists. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. He’s busy. He said he’d be helping Butters, and Butters actually takes his schoolwork seriously, so it’s not like Kenny can half-ass it the way he does everything else. He’ll probably see your message later, send back something dumb like “didn’t know you were into the whole desperate goth look, but hey, it works”, and you’ll roll your eyes and move on. But you don’t want to wait.

The walls of your dorm feel smaller by the second, the silence pressing in too hard. You feel ridiculous just sitting here, watching the clock, waiting for a response that isn’t coming anytime soon.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your bag and shove your phone inside. If he’s not answering, you’ll just go to him. It’s not weird. You’re friends. You’ve crashed Butters’ dorm a million times before—usually with Kenny, but still.

You step out of your dorm and immediately regret it. The hallway is empty, the soft hum of the overhead lights buzzing faintly, but the air feels too open, like the walls have been stripped away and you’re standing under a spotlight. The dress clings uncomfortably to your body, the fabric too thin, too unfamiliar, and the heels throw off your balance just enough to make every step feel unnatural. You cross your arms over your stomach, but it doesn’t make a difference. You still feel exposed.

Campus is quiet. The occasional student walks across the quad, a couple of people sit on the benches outside the library, but no one is paying attention to you. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. But your skin still prickles with the crawling sensation of being watched, of standing out in a way you never do. Every step feels heavier than the last, like your body is moving forward while your mind begs you to turn around.

You’ve never cared about things like this before. Not about whether people were looking, not about how you came across, not about whether or not you belonged in a space. But now, the weight of it settles into your chest, cold and suffocating, the realization creeping in at the edges of your mind—this isn’t you. You aren’t the kind of person who wears things like this, who walks through campus like she owns the place, who turns heads and likes it. You aren’t effortless. You aren’t confident. And right now, you aren’t comfortable.

Your phone stays silent in your bag. You tell yourself not to check it, but the thought lingers anyway. If Kenny had texted back, you wouldn’t still be stuck in this loop of doubt, wouldn’t be picking apart every decision that led to this moment. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. But it still stings.

You press your lips together and keep walking. Butters’ dorm isn’t far, but the walk stretches out endlessly, each step echoing too loud in the quiet night. The wind moves through the trees, cool against your skin, and you can’t tell if the shiver that runs up your spine is from the temperature or from the uneasy, sinking feeling in your gut. It’s not just that the dress is uncomfortable—it’s that you feel uncomfortable in it. Like you’re wearing someone else’s skin, slipping into a version of yourself that was never meant to exist.

The building finally comes into view, warm light glowing through the lobby windows. You stop at the entrance, heart beating too fast against your ribs.

You could turn around. You could go back to your dorm, change into something that doesn’t make your chest feel tight, and pretend this never happened. No one would know. No one would care.

But instead, you pull open the door, step inside, and head toward Butters’ room before you can change your mind.

The hallway is quieter than you expected, the fluorescent lights above casting everything in a pale, artificial glow. Your heels click against the tile floor, a sharp contrast to the silence, and you wish you had worn anything else—sneakers, boots, something that didn’t announce your presence with every step. You walk for at least a minute before stopping in front of his door.

You hesitate.

Kenny’s voice carries through the thin wood, low and lazy, words muffled but still carrying that familiar tone of amusement. Butters’ voice follows, more animated, his usual nervous energy laced with whatever conversation they’re in the middle of. You lift your hand to knock, but at the last second, doubt creeps in, and the sound that actually comes out is weak, barely more than a tap.

For a second, nothing happens. Then there’s movement inside. A chair scraping back, footsteps approaching. The handle turns, and when the door swings open, you’re immediately hit with a wall of weed smoke.

Butters blinks at you, blue eyes going wide, mouth parting slightly like his brain hasn’t caught up yet. “Oh—uh—hey,” he says, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat. “What’re—uh, what’re you doin’ here?”

His room smells like a full-blown dispensary. Which is insane, considering he’s an RA. Technically, he’s supposed to be the one enforcing dorm rules, making sure no one is drinking or smoking or doing anything remotely fun. Butters being the Butters, though, probably just means he looks the other way whenever someone offers him a hit.

You glance past him. The window is cracked open, a sad attempt at ventilation, but it’s not doing much. Kenny is sprawled out on Butters’ bed, one arm behind his head, the other holding a joint between his fingers. He hasn’t noticed you yet, still mid-laugh at something that was said before you knocked. His shirt is pulled up slightly, exposing the dip of his hipbones, and the sight of him—completely at ease, completely unbothered—makes something twist in your stomach.

Butters is still staring at you, visibly thrown off. His gaze flickers down for half a second, barely noticeable, but it’s long enough to tell that he’s clocked the outfit. His brows furrow like he’s trying to figure out if he’s hallucinating.

You swallow thickly, throat suddenly dry, and lick your lips, the waxy taste of your lipstick spreading across your tongue. Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag, nails pressing into the material as you shift on your feet. The air feels heavier now, like it’s pressing down on you from all sides, making the dress cling tighter, the heels feel even more unstable beneath you.

“Hey,” you say softly, barely pushing the word past your lips. “Uh, sorry—didn’t mean to interrupt your project or whatever.”

Butters blinks again, like he’s still processing that you’re actually standing here, dressed like this, standing in his doorway. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then tries again, his voice higher than usual.

“Oh, uh—gosh, no, you ain’t interruptin’ nothin’!” He laughs, a little too quick, a little too forced. “I mean, I was workin’ on my lesson plans, but, uh, I don’t think Kenny’s takin’ it all too seriously.”

Behind him, Kenny exhales a slow stream of smoke toward the ceiling, his voice dripping with lazy amusement. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, dude. I think I make a pretty convincing first grader.”

You force a small smile, but it feels stiff on your face, unnatural. Butters glances back at Kenny, his brows still slightly raised, like he’s searching for some kind of explanation—maybe from him, maybe from you. But Kenny hasn’t even looked at you yet.

You shift your weight again, fingers twitching against the strap of your bag. “Um—can I come in?”

Butters straightens immediately, like he just realized he’s blocking the doorway. “Oh! Oh, yeah! Yeah, sure, come on in!” He steps aside quickly, waving you in, though there’s still a hint of confusion in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to explain why you’re here.

You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and the smell of weed thickens, clinging to your clothes, settling in the back of your throat. The air in here feels different—warmer, hazier, lived-in. A stark contrast to the sterile quiet of your own dorm. But that contrast does nothing to settle the unease sitting heavy in your chest.

You glance at Kenny again, your stomach twisting slightly at how relaxed he looks, at how completely unaffected he seems by the fact that you texted him and he never answered, that you literally had to show up in person just to get a response. He still hasn’t looked at you.

Instead, he flicks the ash from his joint into a crushed soda can on Butters’ desk, stretching his arms over his head with a slow, lazy sigh. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a strip of skin just above his sweatpants. It’s nothing, just a fleeting glimpse, but for some reason, it makes your fingers clench against your bag strap even tighter.

Then, finally—finally—his eyes drag toward you. At first, there’s nothing. Just a glance, casual and fleeting, like you’re just there in the room, another person, another interruption. But then his gaze drops lower, taking in the dress, the heels, the effort you never put in. His smirk falters—just barely, just for a second. His brows knit together, his lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something but then stopping himself.

Something flickers across his face, something sharp and momentary—like recognition, or realization, or maybe something closer to irritation.

Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. His lips curl back into an easy smirk, his head tilting slightly to the side, his usual amused indifference slipping right back into place like a mask.

“Well, well,” Kenny murmurs, his voice slow and deliberate, finally looking you over like he’s seeing you for the first time. His smirk widens, his tone dropping into something almost mocking. “Look who decided to get all dressed up.”

You don’t like the way Kenny says that. It’s not the words themselves—it’s the way they come out of his mouth, slow and drawling, soaked in something that makes your stomach twist. The way his eyes linger a second too long, like he’s assessing you rather than just seeing you. The way his smirk doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s already decided this whole thing is funny, like you’re just another thing for him to make fun of.

Heat rushes up your neck, crawling over your skin, and before you can stop yourself, you whip around, turning your back to him completely.

“Butters.” His name leaves your mouth in a rush, urgent, almost pleading. You step forward and plant both hands on his shoulders, gripping them just a little too tightly, enough that you can feel the way his body stiffens in surprise. His eyes go huge, his mouth parting slightly, frozen under the intensity of your stare.

“Do I look fine?” Your voice comes out breathless, higher than normal. You barely give him a second to respond before you press further. “Like—actually fine. Do I look… pretty?”

Butters looks like you just grabbed him by the collar and shook him. His entire body goes rigid, his face turning the color of a stop sign, eyes darting everywhere except at you. “W-Well, uh—” He lets out a nervous laugh, shoulders twitching under your hands. “G-Golly, uh, ya look—uh, I mean, o’course ya do! I mean, I ain’t—uh, I ain't never seen ya wear somethin’ like this before, but—uh, y-yeah! You—you look real nice!”

His voice jumps an octave toward the end, cracking slightly, and if you weren’t currently spiraling, you might’ve found it funny. But right now, all you can focus on is the way he stammers through his words, the way he doesn’t sound sure at all, the way his hands twitch awkwardly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. That sinking feeling in your chest only gets heavier.

Because that’s not the answer you wanted. You wanted something solid, something confident. Something to make you feel good. But instead, all you feel is ridiculous. 

Like you’ve made a mistake. Like you knew this wasn’t right, but you did it anyway, and now you have to stand here and sit with it.

You swallow hard, your grip on Butters’ shoulders loosening slightly. Your heartbeat pounds too fast in your ears, and suddenly, the dress feels tighter than before, like it’s constricting your ribs, like it’s too much.

Behind you, Kenny makes a noise—something between a scoff and a laugh, exhaling smoke as he speaks. “Jesus, dude, try not to have a heart attack.”

Butters flinches, his face burning even redder, and you should feel bad, but you don’t have the space for it right now. Because now Kenny is talking again, and you can feel his eyes on you without even turning around.

“You good, sweetheart?” His voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s something underneath it—something you can’t place, something that makes your stomach churn. “You seem kinda stressed.”

You don’t turn to face him. You can’t. Not when you know he’ll still be wearing that damn smirk, not when you already feel so stupid. Instead, you pull your hands away from Butters and take a small step back, curling your fingers into your palms.

“Yeah,” you mutter, voice tight. “I’m fine.”

Kenny hums like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe you either.

Then Butters—sweet, oblivious, perfectly timed Butters—cuts through the tension like he just remembered why you might be here in the first place.

“Oh, wait a minute—ain’t ya got a date with Damien tonight?”

You blink. The words hit you like a slap to the face, grounding you just enough to snap you back into reality. Right. That’s why you’re here.

Not because you needed to see Kenny. Not because you needed someone to talk you off the ledge. Because you have a date. A real one. With someone who actually asked you out instead of just messing with you until you lost your patience.

You shift on your feet, clearing your throat. “Uh. Yeah. I do.”

Butters brightens a little, clearly relieved to have something normal to latch onto. “Well, shoot! That’s real excitin’! He, uh—he must be real lucky, huh?”

His voice is gentle, reassuring in the way Butters always is, but the compliment makes your stomach twist. You should feel good about that. It’s what you wanted to hear. But the way it sits in your chest feels wrong, like you’re holding onto something fragile, something that might crack open if you let yourself think about it too much.

You barely notice the way Kenny exhales smoke again, slow and measured, before he speaks.

“Lucky, huh?” His tone is light, but there’s something behind it, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Yeah, I bet he thinks so.”

You don’t turn around. Because if you do, you’ll have to see whatever look is on Kenny’s face right now. You’ll have to see that smirk, that lazy amusement, that stupid thing in his eyes that always makes you second-guess everything. And you can’t do that right now. Not when you already feel like you’re hanging onto your confidence by a thread.

Instead, you force a small, dry laugh. “I mean. He asked me out, so. Guess he thinks so.”

Butters nods enthusiastically. “Well, yeah, course he does! I mean, you—you really do look nice n’ all! Bet he’s gonna love it!”

Kenny makes another noise behind you, and you don’t know what it means, but you feel it in your spine.

“So, what?” he says, tone still casual, still teasing. “You dress up like this for him, but not for me?”

It’s a joke. It has to be a joke. Kenny says shit like this all the time—pushes buttons, says things just to get a reaction, makes everything sound like something when it isn’t. That’s just him.

And yet.

The way he says it—low and smooth, a smirk audible even without looking—hits somewhere deep in your chest, somewhere you don’t know how to name. You swallow hard, fingers clenching against your bag strap.

You still don’t turn around. Instead, you force another laugh, but this one is thinner, more strained. “Kenny.” You say his name like a warning, but it comes out weaker than you want it to.

He huffs out something between a laugh and a scoff. “Relax, sweetheart. Just messin’ with you.”

Butters, ever the peacemaker, laughs nervously. “A-Aw, c’mon, Kenny, don’t tease her too much now! It’s her first date, she’s probably real nervous ‘bout it already!”

You exhale, shaking your head slightly, trying to pull yourself together. There's an uncomfortable tightness in your chest, like a string pulled too taut, threatening to snap. You don’t want to leave yet. You can’t leave yet—not when you feel like this, like your skin is too tight, like if you step outside, the air itself might suffocate you.

So instead, you turn back to Butters, ignoring the way your pulse jumps when you catch Kenny watching you from the corner of your eye. “Hey, um… mind if I chill here for a while?” Your voice is light, casual, like this is normal. “I’ll even help with your project if you want.”

Butters blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Oh! Uh—well, gee, yeah, sure! I mean, if ya ain’t in a hurry or nothin’—I could definitely use some help!” He brightens immediately, shuffling back toward his desk. “I was just tryin’ to work out a lesson plan on, uh, phonics! Y’know, like, the way kids learn sounds n’ letters n’ such.”

Behind you, Kenny exhales another slow drag of smoke, shifting on Butters’ bed. “Phonics, huh?” His voice is easy, smooth, teasing. “You think she even knows how to read, dude?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him fully, arms crossing over your chest. “I do know how to read, actually. But thanks for your concern.”

Kenny smirks, flicking the ash from his joint into the soda can on the desk. “Yeah? Prove it.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, fighting the urge to throw something at him.

Kenny grins wider, completely at ease, and it’s annoying how unaffected he looks. He’s lounging back, half-sprawled, the dim light casting soft shadows along his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the lazy half-lidded amusement in his eyes. He’s comfortable, relaxed, like nothing about this—about you standing in his friend’s dorm, in a dress you wouldn’t normally wear, about the way you were practically begging Butters for validation just a minute ago—means anything to him.

And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe he’s just high, maybe he’s just being Kenny, maybe he’s just teasing. Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You suck in a slow breath and shake your head, forcing yourself to turn back to Butters. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

Butters immediately brightens again, flipping through a mess of papers on his desk. “Now, see, the tricky part is makin’ it fun, ‘cause kids, they don’t got long attention spans, right? So ya gotta make it a game or somethin’ interactive! I was thinkin’ maybe, like, flashcards or a little song—”

You nod along, grateful for the distraction, for something to ground yourself in. But just as you reach for one of the papers, Kenny shifts behind you, the bed creaking slightly.

“You sure you’re in the mood for schoolwork right now?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something beneath it—something smug, something that makes the back of your neck prickle. “Thought you’d be too busy planning your big night.”

You don’t turn around, but your grip tightens slightly around the paper. “And I thought you’d be too busy helping Butters instead of sitting here getting high on his bed.”

Butters laughs nervously. “A-Aw, c’mon now, I don’t mind it! Besides, it’s, uh—it’s good to have, uh, a subject to practice on, y’know? Kids do get distracted real easy, an’ all—”

Kenny hums. “Right. Gotta prepare for all the troublemakers.”

You do turn then, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder. His eyes are already on you, his smirk small but sharp, like he’s amused by something you haven’t figured out yet. But there’s something else too—something lingering in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your stomach feel unsteady. Like he’s waiting for you to react, to crack, to let slip whatever it is you’re trying to hold together.

It’s infuriating. So you hold his gaze, tilting your head slightly. “That is kind of your specialty, isn’t it?”

Kenny’s smirk twitches just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to push back. Then he grins again, slow and lazy, and taps his fingers against his stomach. “Guilty.”

You roll your eyes but don’t look away as long as you probably should.

Butters, ever oblivious, clears his throat and gestures back to the papers in your hands. “Uh, so, about my project—”

You blink and snap yourself out of it, finally breaking eye contact with Kenny as you turn back toward Butters. “Right. Yeah. Let’s focus on that.”

Butters shuffles his notes together, puffing up a little like he’s getting into character. “Alrighty then!” His voice lifts with forced authority, a little shaky but full of determination. “For this lesson, I’m gonna be the teacher, an’ you two are gonna be my students, alright?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “We’re really doing this?”

Butters nods enthusiastically. “Yup! Roleplay is a great way to engage young learners! Helps ‘em get immersed in the lesson an’ retain information better!”

Kenny chuckles from behind you, low and amused. “Y’hear that? We’re gonna retain information better.”

You turn your head just enough to glance at him, your lips twitching with a barely restrained smirk. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll love being a first grader again.”

Kenny shrugs, taking another slow drag from the joint. “Hey, I was a great first grader.”

“Doubtful.”

Butters claps his hands together, cutting off whatever sarcastic remark Kenny is about to make. “Alright, students! Go on an’ take a seat now, class is about to begin!”

You hesitate for a second, eyes flicking to the only two seating options: Butters’ desk chair or his bed, where Kenny is already sprawled out like he owns the place. Sitting at the desk would be too serious, too separate, and after everything tonight, after how you feel in this outfit, sitting alone just feels… unappealing.

So you move toward the bed, pressing a knee onto the mattress before settling in next to Kenny.

The second you do, Kenny shifts, stretching his arms up before letting them fall back against the blanket, his body loose and lazy, completely unbothered. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and the scent of smoke and faded cologne lingers in the air between you.

You try not to focus on it.

You also try not to focus on the fact that your dress rides up just a little when you sit, exposing more of your thigh than you expected. Or the fact that Kenny notices, his gaze flickering down for half a second before he props an arm behind his head like he wasn’t looking at all.

You clear your throat and cross your legs, leaning back against the wall. “Alright, Mr. Stotch,” you say, forcing yourself to focus on Butters instead. “What’s today’s lesson?”

Butters beams, clearly excited to finally have your attention on the lesson itself. He flips through his papers, scanning his notes before looking up at the both of you. “Alrighty, class! Today, we’re gonna be learnin’ all about phonics! Now, does anybody know what a vowel is?”

Kenny snorts. “Yeah, man, I love vowels.”

Butters sighs, already exhausted. “Now, Kenny, that ain’t an answer—”

“They’re the ones that aren’t consonants, right?” you chime in, smirking slightly.

Butters looks relieved. “That’s right! Good job!”

Kenny makes a show of gasping. “Wow. Teacher’s pet much?”

You elbow him lightly. “Maybe if you paid attention instead of getting high, you’d know things.”

Kenny grins, turning his head to look at you fully, his expression playful but unreadable in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Oh, I know things, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches just slightly, but before you can fire back, Butters groans dramatically. “Alright, alright, enough goofin’ off now! Let’s focus, class!” Butters, clearly relieved to have his class under control, puffs up again and clears his throat. “Now! Like I was sayin’, vowels are real important ‘cause they help make up all sorts of words! Ya can’t have a sentence without ‘em! So, let’s practice soundin’ ‘em out together, alright?”

He starts going through his notes, explaining how vowel sounds change depending on the word, how long and short vowels work, how they’re the building blocks of reading. And for a little while, it’s… actually kind of fun. Kenny still throws in dumb remarks here and there, making you roll your eyes, but you let yourself get into it, trying to at least be a little helpful.

Then, just as Butters is getting into a section about blending letters, a loud BANG echoes against the door.

“Butters!” A voice shouts from the other side, urgent and impatient. “Dude, open up! We need an RA!”

All three of you freeze. Butters blinks, caught completely off guard. “Oh, uh—hold on now, I—” He fumbles as he stands, hastily shuffling his papers together before hurrying toward the door. He throws a panicked look over his shoulder as he reaches for the handle. “I swear, if this is ‘bout another clogged toilet—”

He pulls the door open, and standing outside is a frazzled-looking freshman, wide-eyed and out of breath. “Dude,” they gasp, leaning against the frame. “You gotta come quick—there’s, like, actual blood.”

Butters visibly pales. “Wh-What?!”

“My friend split his forehead open downstairs, and there’s so much blood—I think he passed out, man, you gotta do something!”

“Oh golly,” Butters breathes, panic washing over his face. He turns back to you and Kenny, eyes darting wildly. “I—I gotta go—”

Kenny, still lounged on the bed like nothing could possibly be this important, exhales slowly and flicks his joint into the soda can. “Dude, you gonna handle that, or you need me to step in and perform emergency brain surgery?”

Butters gapes at him. “Kenny, this is serious!”

Kenny shrugs. “So’s brain surgery.”

You smack his arm. “Kenny.”

He grins at you, but before he can say anything else, Butters is already scrambling to grab his keys. “Y’all just—stay here! I’ll be right back!”

And with that, he rushes out the door, leaving you and Kenny alone in the hazy dorm room, the sound of hurried footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

You sigh, letting your head fall back against the wall as Butters’ frantic footsteps disappear down the hallway. The room feels strangely quiet now, the distant hum of campus life barely filtering through the closed door. The lingering scent of weed still hangs heavy in the air, settling into your skin, into your clothes, into the fabric of Butters’ bedspread beneath you.

You shift slightly, reaching for your phone, unlocking the screen with a quick tap. The time blinks up at you—you still have a little while before Damien picks you up. Not long, but enough. Enough to stay here a little longer, enough to push away the nerves creeping up your spine, enough to breathe.

Kenny hasn’t moved. He’s still sprawled out next to you, half-sitting, half-lounging, his head tilted lazily against the wall. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy-lashed, watching you in that slow, unreadable way that makes your stomach tighten. His fingers tap idly against his stomach, and even though his expression is relaxed, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes your breath feel shallow.

You hesitate for a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the side of your phone. Then you turn your head toward him and smile.

“Okay,” you say, shifting a little closer, pressing your knee against the mattress for balance. “Honest opinion.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Outfit. Makeup. Everything. Be real with me.”

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you, eyes flicking slowly over your face, then down, tracing the line of your dress, the curve of your legs where they cross. His tongue flicks over his lower lip, slow and thoughtful, before he exhales and leans back further against the wall.

“You really want my honest opinion?”

You nod, waiting, your stomach twisting with anticipation.

Kenny hums, dragging his fingers through his hair before smirking slightly. “Alright.”

Then he shifts suddenly, moving closer—just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne under the smoke.

“You look hot,” he says simply, like it’s just a fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It’s not just what he says—it’s how he says it. No teasing lilt, no exaggerated flirtation, no smugness. Just those two words, direct and confident, sinking straight into your ribs.

You swallow, your fingers gripping your phone a little tighter. “Yeah?”

Kenny’s smirk twitches, his eyes flicking back to yours. “Yeah.”

Warmth floods through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re smiling—brightly, wide enough that your cheeks start to burn. The relief is instant, washing over you like cool air after being stuck in a too-hot room. It’s stupid how much you needed to hear that, how the knots in your stomach loosen just from two simple words.

You exhale a small, nervous laugh. “I hope Damien thinks so too.”

Kenny doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t tease, doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t come back with something snarky like “oh, he will” or “if he doesn’t, he’s blind”. He just looks at you, his smirk frozen in place but his expression unreadable, something flickering behind his eyes too quick to catch.

The silence stretches a second too long, so you shift closer to him, moving across the mattress until your thigh nearly brushes his. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t move at all—just watches as you tuck your hair behind your ear, fingers twisting a loose strand nervously.

“I’m so nervous,” you admit, voice quieter now. “Like, I feel stupidly nervous.”

Kenny huffs a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah, no shit.”

You groan and press your palms together in your lap, bouncing your foot against the mattress. “Like, it’s just a date. Just dinner. It’s not that big of a deal, right?”

Kenny shrugs, taking another slow drag from his joint. “Depends. Are you plannin’ on suckin’ his dick in the parking lot after, or is this more of a getting to know you situation?”

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. “Kenny!”

“What?” He exhales smoke lazily, smirking. “It’s a valid question.”

You shove at his arm, half-laughing, half-mortified. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

He grins, tapping the ash off into the soda can on the nightstand. “I’m just sayin’, if it’s the first option, then yeah, I’d be nervous too.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “Jesus Christ.”

Kenny chuckles, watching you with that easy, amused expression. You shift slightly, pressing your knee into the mattress for balance, your body angling toward him. The air feels warm, dense with the sharp, skunky bite of weed, layered beneath the lingering scent of his cologne—something musky, a little sweet, like amber and worn leather. There’s sweat in the mix too, faint but present, clinging to his hoodie from being in this cramped dorm room for too long. It’s familiar, grounding, the kind of scent that sticks to fabric, to skin, to memory.

You hesitate for a second, then take a slow breath. “What do you think of Damien?”

Kenny finally moves, tilting his head slightly, his smirk twitching. “Oh, we’re really doing this?”

You blink. “Doing what?”

“Asking for my opinion like it actually matters.” He lets his head roll against the wall, looking at you with an exaggerated pout. “I dunno, babe, you’ve never given a fuck about my thoughts on the people you’ve dated before.”

You snort. “That’s because I’ve never dated anyone before.”

Kenny’s eyebrows lift slightly, like he forgot that part. “Shit. Right.”

You exhale, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “I dunno, I just… I feel like I should ask?”

Kenny watches you for a beat, his expression shifting—his smirk falters just slightly, his eyes narrowing like he’s working through a thought he’s not sure he wants to say out loud. Then he shakes his head, the usual amusement sliding back into place. “Alright.” He stretches his arms behind his head, exhaling dramatically. “He’s fine.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s it? Fine?”

Kenny scoffs. “You want me to write a fucking dissertation?” He deepens his voice, putting on a fake, pretentious tone. “Damien Thorn is a captivating subject with an aura of brooding mystique, and I believe he would make an excellent breeding partner for my best friend.”

You smack his arm. “Oh my God, I hate you.”

Kenny laughs, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t hate the guy. He’s just kinda… predictable.”

You tilt your head. “Predictable how?”

“Y’know.” Kenny waves his hand vaguely. “The whole mysterious, I only wear black, I stare out of windows dramatically and contemplate the void thing. Talks like he’s been alive for 300 years and saw all his wives die in childbirth.”

You let out a short laugh. “Okay, that’s dramatic.”

Kenny grins. “Tell me he hasn’t unironically said the words ‘society doesn’t understand me’ at least once.”

You hesitate. “…He might have.”

“Exactly.” Kenny sits up a little, leaning toward you. “I mean, I get it. He’s got that whole tortured artist, vampire prince, probably jerks off to his own poetry thing going on. Some girls are into that. You’re obviously into that. Just don’t let him convince you to do weird cult shit, alright?”

You shove his arm again, laughing. “I highly doubt he’s in a cult.”

“Bet you twenty bucks he owns a human skull.”

“He does not own a human skull.”

Kenny snickers. “Not one he admitted to owning, anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but the tension in your chest is lighter now, your nerves not nearly as suffocating as they were before.

Kenny’s smirk lingers for a second before he shifts again, moving just slightly closer. His knee knocks against yours, barely noticeable, and when you look up at him again, his expression isn’t as cocky as before.

“Just don’t let him make you feel like you gotta change anything,” Kenny says, voice lower now, steadier. “He likes you, right? So don’t do that thing where you overthink shit and start trying to fit into his world instead of just… y’know. Being you.”

You stare at him for a second, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. His gaze is steady, his smirk smaller now, like he’s saying something important but trying to play it off like it’s nothing.

“I’m not,” you say quickly, instinctively, but even as the words leave your mouth, they don’t feel entirely true.

Kenny doesn’t call you out on it. He just hums, tilting his head slightly, watching you like he’s waiting for you to say something else.

And you know he knows you’re lying.

It’s in the way his gaze lingers, sharp and assessing, like he’s picking apart your words, unraveling the things you don’t say. Kenny’s always been good at that—good at knowing when you’re bullshitting, good at catching the cracks in your voice, the little shifts in your body language that most people don’t bother to notice.

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to sit in this feeling, in this stupid tension twisting in your chest, in the way his eyes keep pinning you in place. So you do what you always do when you don’t want Kenny to get too close to the truth.

You change the subject.

You exhale through your nose, glancing down at the joint still smoldering between his fingers. “Can I take a hit?”

Kenny raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You shrug, forcing yourself to look casual, even though your heart is still beating too fast in your chest. “It’ll help me relax.”

Kenny huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Babe, you take one hit of my shit, and Damien’s gonna have to carry your ass to dinner.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

Kenny smirks, lifting the joint between two fingers. “Oh yeah?” He leans in just slightly, voice dropping into something lower, more amused. “Prove it.”

You don’t hesitate. You snatch the joint from his hand and bring it to your lips, inhaling slow and deep just to be a little cocky about it.

The burn hits immediately, hot and acrid down your throat, and you almost cough but refuse to give him the satisfaction. You hold it, exhaling slower than necessary just to make a point.

Kenny watches, eyes flicking between your lips and the lazy tendrils of smoke curling into the air.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, lips twitching. “Didn’t even choke. Proud of you, babe.”

You smirk, tilting your chin up. “Told you.”

But then, after a few seconds, the warmth starts to settle into your limbs, a slow, creeping buzz spreading through your chest, your fingers, your head. It doesn’t hit all at once—it moves in waves, rolling in slow and syrupy, making your body feel both heavier and lighter at the same time. Your shoulders loosen, your legs relax, and the tension that had been coiling in your stomach just moments ago starts to unravel, leaving a strange, heady calm in its place.

You blink, sucking in a slow breath, and hand the joint back to Kenny, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you need to steady yourself. “Fucking how strong is your shit?”

Kenny grins around the joint, taking a lazy drag. “You feelin’ it already?”

You scoff. “No, I just always lose control of my spine after one hit.”

Kenny exhales a slow stream of smoke, chuckling. “Yeah, that’ll happen.” He leans back against the wall, stretching his legs out, still watching you with that smug, entertained expression. “My guy hooks me up with the good shit. You’d die if I gave you an edible.”

You groan, letting your head drop back against the wall. “I am gonna die. I can feel my bones.”

Kenny laughs at that, a real, unfiltered laugh, the kind that makes his shoulders shake. “God, you’re a fuckin’ lightweight.”

You glare at him, but it has no weight behind it. Everything feels too hazy, too warm. “Shut up,” you mumble, dragging a hand down your face. “I don’t usually do this, okay? Sorry I don’t have a stoner tolerance like you.”

Kenny smirks, tapping the joint against the ash-filled soda can before taking another drag. “It’s cute.”

You pause, blinking slowly, the words settling over you in a way they probably shouldn’t. Maybe it’s the weed making everything feel heavier, warmer, but the way he said it—it’s cute—lingers in the air longer than it should, hanging between you like an unspoken thing. You don’t look at him. 

Instead, you exhale softly, tracing your fingers against the fabric of your dress, grounding yourself in the feeling of it. The buzz in your head makes it easier to let words slip out without overthinking them first, makes it easier to just ask without worrying about how it’ll land.

“Kenny,” you say suddenly, tilting your head to the side. “What was your first serious date like?”

Kenny looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. “Serious?”

“Yeah,” you say, shifting slightly on the bed. “Like, not just some random hookup or some girl you took to a movie just to make out with her after. Like, actual dating.”

Kenny huffs a quiet laugh, leaning his head back against the wall. He twirls the joint between his fingers, exhaling a slow curl of smoke before speaking. “Alright. Lemme think.”

You watch him as he stares at the ceiling, like he actually has to dig through his memories to find one that counts.

“Guess that’d be my junior year,” he finally says. “Dated this girl for a couple months. She was nice. Real sweet, real into, like… astrology and crystals and shit.”

You blink, caught off guard. Not because it’s shocking—Kenny’s always been good with people, always had people drawn to him in a way you never really questioned—but because you didn’t know this.

And now that you think about it, you don’t really know anything about any of them when it comes to dating.

You’ve been friends with Kenny, Cartman, Stan, and Kyle since childhood, close enough to have a million inside jokes, to know exactly how each of them takes their coffee, to predict their reactions before they even open their mouths. But their love lives? They never talked to you about that. Maybe you never asked. Maybe it never seemed important. Maybe, until now, you never cared.

But now, sitting here, listening to Kenny talk about a girl you never knew existed, about dates you were never aware of, about pieces of his life you were never a part of… It feels weird.

You push the thought down, forcing a smirk. “Oh, so a witchy girl.”

Kenny grins, glancing at you. “Yeah, she used to say our star signs weren’t compatible or some shit, but she still let me feel her up behind the bleachers, so, y’know. Guess she wasn’t that concerned.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his arm. “You’re so fucking dumb.”

Kenny chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, but, for real—it was kinda nice. We went on actual dates. Coffee shops, late-night drives, that kinda shit. Used to sit on her roof and talk for hours.”

Your fingers twitch slightly against your lap. “Why’d you break up?”

Kenny exhales, rubbing his thumb against the filter of the joint. “She moved.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, but it’s slower this time, like he’s trying to brush it off before it can mean too much. “Her mom got a new job or whatever, and that was that. We texted for a little after, but y’know how that shit goes.”

You watch him for a second, the way his jaw tenses just slightly, the way he keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling like he doesn’t really want to see your reaction.

“You liked her a lot, huh?” you ask, softer this time.

Kenny smirks, but it’s smaller now, lazier, like he’s letting it sit on his lips just to keep up the act. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

A strange weight settles in your stomach, warm and pressing, like a slow burn spreading through your chest. It isn’t anger, isn’t sadness, but it itches in a way you don’t know how to shake. The thought of Kenny—your Kenny—being with someone else, taking her on late-night drives, sitting on rooftops with her, kissing her—it twists at something deep inside you, something uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

You shift on the bed, pressing your foot against Kenny’s ankle without thinking. Your fingers move automatically, tracing slow, absentminded circles against the bone, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin through his socks. It’s casual, the kind of touch that’s always been normal between you, but right now, under the weight of his gaze—half-lidded, curious, lingering—it feels different.

You clear your throat. “Were you nervous?”

Kenny blinks, tilting his head slightly. “For what?”

“Your first date.” Your voice comes out softer than you meant it to. “Like, actually nervous?”

Kenny scoffs, his grin twitching. “Pfft, no.”

You narrow your eyes. “Really?”

He smirks. “What can I say? I’m naturally charming.”

You roll your eyes but keep tracing circles against his ankle. “Kenny.”

He exhales, like he’s debating whether to tell you the truth. Then, finally, he sighs and leans further back against the wall, legs stretching out slightly.

“Alright, fine,” he admits. “Maybe a little nervous.”

You smirk. “I knew it.”

Kenny nudges your knee with his own, the pressure warm and firm. “Shut the fuck up, dude. I wasn’t you nervous.”

You scoff. “Okay, rude.”

He chuckles, shifting slightly, his knee pressing against yours again. “I mean, c’mon. You’re sitting here rubbing my ankle like you’re tryin’ to summon a genie. If you were any more nervous, you’d be vibrating.”

Heat spreads up your neck, but you don’t move your hand. You should, but you don’t. Instead, you huff, tilting your head back against the wall. “God, I hate you.”

Kenny grins, lazy and satisfied. “Nah. You love me.”

The words land differently this time, settling into the space between you. They should roll off like they always do, easy and meaningless, just another joke between best friends. But tonight, they hang in the air for a second too long, stretching between the warmth of his skin against yours, the slow buzz in your head, the way his voice dips just slightly when he says it.

You straighten up, pulling your hands away from him, suddenly too aware of yourself, of where you’re sitting, of how close you let yourself get. Your body still feels loose from the weed, but inside, there’s a tight knot of unease curling in your stomach. It’s not about him, not about who he kissed, not about some girl you never met. It’s about you. It’s about the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone.

You press your palms against your thighs, staring down at them. Your dress has ridden up slightly, showing more skin than you meant to, and for some reason, that makes your face heat even more.

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. It’s never mattered before. None of the guys ever talked about their relationships with you—not Stan, not Kyle, not even Cartman. Not because they didn’t have them, but because… because why? Because they knew? Because they knew you didn’t have stories of your own to share, because they knew you’d never had a first kiss, a first date, a first anything?

It’s like they were all protecting you from it. From knowing too much, from feeling left out. But now, sitting next to Kenny, it’s impossible to ignore.

You swallow hard. “Did you guys kiss?”

Kenny raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, eyes still locked on your lap. “On your first date,” you clarify, quieter now. “Did you kiss her?”

Kenny exhales slowly, like he’s deciding whether to mess with you or just answer. Then, after a pause, he smirks. “Yeah.”

Your stomach dips. Not because you’re jealous. Not because you wish it had been you. But because he just knows—because they all know—and no one ever says it out loud.

“Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it.

Kenny tilts his head, looking at you like you just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Uh… ‘cause I wanted to?”

You nod, your nails digging into the fabric of your dress. “Right. Yeah. Makes sense.”

Kenny frowns slightly, watching you a little too closely now. “Babe, what’s with the interrogation?”

You force a small laugh, shaking your head. “No reason.”

Kenny doesn’t buy it. You can feel him not buying it. But he doesn’t push.

Instead, he leans back, dragging a hand through his hair. “Y’know,” he says, voice lazier now, like he’s just musing aloud, “I was gonna ask if you’ve ever kissed anyone, but I feel like I already know the answer.”

Your entire body tenses. “Fuck off.”

He grins, eyes flashing with something smug. “So that’s a no, then?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

Kenny laughs, stretching his arms behind his head. “Babe, it’s fine. Nothin’ wrong with being a late bloomer.”

You exhale sharply, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. It’s not like you didn’t know, but hearing it out loud, having it confirmed, makes you feel stupid. You force yourself to shrug, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Kenny watches you for a beat, smirk twitching slightly. Then, suddenly, his grin turns sly. “You nervous about kissing Thorn tonight?”

You freeze. His smirk widens. “Oh shit—you are.”

You click your heels together nervously, the soft tapping sound filling the space between you. Your fingers twitch against your thighs, and the heat from the weed makes everything feel too much—too loud, too noticeable, too real. You groan, dragging your hands down your face before turning to Kenny, frustration bubbling up in your chest.

“Of course I’m nervous,” you say, voice tight. “I don’t wanna screw this up.”

Kenny tilts his head slightly, that same knowing smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes stay locked onto yours, sharp and focused. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you press your palms against your lap, shifting against the bed.

“I don’t know the first thing about kissing,” you admit, voice quieter now, like saying it out loud makes it real. “Like, yeah, I’ve read books, and I’ve seen it in movies and TV and whatever, but it’s not the same. It’s not real.”

Kenny exhales through his nose, and for once, he doesn’t throw out some crude joke, doesn’t immediately make fun of you. He just leans back against the wall, rolling the joint between his fingers, tapping it lightly against the edge of the soda can.

“Yeah,” he says after a beat, his voice easy, like this is just another conversation. “It’s not the same.”

You let out a long sigh, tipping your head back. “God, what if I’m bad at it? What if he can tell I’ve never done it before?”

Kenny lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Babe, trust me, it’s not that deep.”

You snap your head toward him. “Yes, it is that deep! I don’t wanna be weird about it! I don’t wanna be one of those people who doesn’t know where to put their hands or, like, smashes their teeth together or—”

Kenny laughs, cutting you off, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, dude, you are way too in your own head about this.”

You frown. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kenny hums, exhaling another slow curl of smoke toward the ceiling, and when he looks at you again, his smirk has faded just a little. His gaze lingers, his expression thoughtful, like he’s actually considering something instead of just coming up with another joke.

Then he tilts his head slightly and says, “You want me to teach you?”

For a second, you think you misheard him, that maybe the weed is making you imagine things, but no—Kenny is still looking at you, still smirking, still waiting. His posture is relaxed, but there’s a sharpness in his expression now, a weight behind the words that makes your stomach twist.

Your mouth goes dry. “What?”

Kenny shrugs, tapping ash from the joint. “I mean, I could teach you.” His lips twitch, like he’s amused by the way you instantly froze. “Since you’re so fuckin’ worried about being bad at it.”

Your stomach flips, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Your body knows this is a joke, knows this is just Kenny being Kenny, but for some reason, your brain short-circuits at the idea, at the possibility.

You scoff, trying to play it off. “Oh, please.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, entirely too entertained by your reaction. “What? You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms. “I do trust you.”

“So what’s the problem?” His voice is smooth, coaxing, like he’s daring you to take him seriously.

“The problem is that you’re a jackass,” you shoot back, glaring at him, but your chest feels too warm, your skin buzzing.

Kenny chuckles, watching you like he’s already won. He leans in just slightly, his knee pressing more firmly against yours. “C’mon, babe. What better way to learn than hands-on experience?”

Your heartbeat stutters. You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything. Because if you open your mouth right now, you’re not sure what’s going to come out.

And Kenny—fucking Kenny—sees it. His smirk deepens, but his eyes stay locked on yours, steady and unreadable in a way that makes your stomach tighten. His fingers tap against his thigh, slow and deliberate, and when he speaks again, his voice has lost the teasing edge. It’s quieter now, lower, like he’s giving you an out.

“Just say the word.”

You fiddle with the hem of your dress, twisting the fabric between your fingers as your frown deepens. Heat creeps up your neck, your chest, your face—too much warmth pooling beneath your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

You swallow hard, eyes darting toward the door before flicking back to him. “You’re just gonna make fun of me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny tilts his head slightly, his smirk twitching at the edges. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” You glare at him, but it doesn’t hold much weight, not with the way your pulse is racing, not with the way his knee is still pressed against yours, grounding you in place. “You’ll do it, and then you’ll be a dick about it forever.”

Kenny exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “If I was gonna make fun of you, I would’ve already done it.”

You press your lips together, still twisting the fabric of your dress, still feeling like you’re one wrong move away from completely losing your grip on reality.

“And what if Butters comes back?” you say quickly, grasping at the excuse like it’s a lifeline. “That’d be—mortifying.”

Kenny chuckles, leaning in slightly. “Please. Butters walks in on this? That’s what makes him finally drop out and join a monastery.”

You let out a short laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

Kenny grins, but the usual lightness in his expression doesn’t fully return. There’s a sharpness beneath the amusement, a glint in his eyes that lingers as he watches you. His gaze moves over your face, slower now, like he’s picking apart every detail—the way your fingers won’t stop twisting in your dress, the way your breathing has changed, the way your eyes flicker to the door like you’re looking for an escape. He’s searching for hesitation, for doubt, for any sign that you’re refusing just to refuse.

You shift slightly, your body moving before your brain fully catches up. It’s small—just a slow, uncertain scoot closer—but Kenny notices immediately. His smirk twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches as you close the space between you.

Without looking away, he reaches over and taps the joint against the edge of the soda can, snuffing it out before setting it down completely. The room feels quieter now, the haze of smoke lingering but no longer moving, the only sound the distant hum of campus outside and the soft rustling of your dress as you fidget in place.

Your fingers curl against the fabric. Your throat feels tight. “This won’t be weird, right?”

Kenny’s eyebrows lift slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for you to finish.

You lick your lips, glancing at him before looking down at your lap. “We’ll still be best friends?”

For the first time tonight, Kenny hesitates. It’s brief, barely a flicker, but you see it—the way his smirk fades just enough, the way his eyes drop from yours for half a second before snapping back up. He leans back against the wall, resting his arm against his knee, and lets out a slow breath.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his voice lower now, quieter. “We’ll still be best friends.”

You study him, searching his face for anything—any shift, any sign that he’s just saying what you want to hear. But Kenny is good at this. He’s always been good at keeping things easy, at making you believe nothing ever rattles him.

And maybe that’s what you want right now. Maybe you just need this to be easy.

Your fingers tighten around the hem of your dress again, pulse hammering in your ears. You nod, exhaling softly.

“Okay.”

Kenny blinks at you owlishly, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. For a moment, he just stares, like he’s waiting for you to take it back, to laugh it off, to shove him and call him a dumbass like you always do. But you don’t.

Instead, you stay right where you are, hands resting lightly against your lap.. The warm haze from the weed still lingers in your body, but this feels different now—clearer, more deliberate.

Then Kenny exhales through his nose, a boyish smile tugging at his lips, lopsided and easy in a way that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head slightly, eyes still locked onto yours.

“C’mere.” The words are soft, almost coaxing.

You should hesitate. You should think about this more, about what it means, about why Kenny—your best friend, your Kenny—is looking at you like this, like he’s completely fine with this, like it’s not a big deal at all.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you fully climb onto Butters’ mattress, shifting closer to him. The bed creaks beneath the movement, the fabric of your dress rustling as you settle beside him. You’re close enough now that your knees bump together, close enough to feel the warmth coming off him, his orange parka bunched up slightly where it’s unzipped, revealing a worn-out band tee underneath.

You tilt your chin up, looking at him, and smile wider. “You seriously don’t have to do this,” you say, your voice quieter now, like you don’t want to break whatever this moment is. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Kenny’s eyes flicker, the dim lighting making the blue of them darker, softer. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t make a joke, doesn’t do any of the things you expect him to do. Instead, he reaches up lazily, rubbing the side of his neck before dropping his hand back down.

“Babe,” he says, and his voice is different now—lower, warmer. “If I was uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have told you to c’mere.”

You nod once, barely moving, voice just above a whisper. “Okay.”

Kenny’s lips twitch, and for a split second, he looks at you like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. But he doesn’t say anything else. He just waits.

You wet your lips, shifting slightly on the mattress, fingers still curled against the hem of your dress. Your pulse is loud, drumming in your ears, and even though you’re the one who asked for this, who let it get this far, you suddenly feel like you’re out of your depth.

You blink up at him, hesitating before mumbling, “So… how does this usually start?”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What, you want me to narrate it for you?”

You huff, nudging his knee with yours. “Kenny.”

He grins, but there’s something easy about it, something reassuring. He leans back a little, resting his weight on one hand, the other draped over his knee. “Relax. It’s not a fuckin’ science experiment.”

“Yeah, but—” You exhale sharply, fidgeting with your dress again. “Do I, like… do something? Say something?”

Kenny watches you for a second, amusement flickering in his eyes, but there’s no teasing bite behind it. His gaze drops briefly—to your mouth, then back up—and the movement makes your stomach flip.

He tilts his head slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your skin buzz. “Nah. You just let it happen.”

Just let it happen. Like it’s easy. Like it’s normal. Like it’s not sending a nervous jolt through every inch of your body.

Your fingers twitch, and you inhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. You glance at his lips—just a flicker of a look, barely a second—but he catches it. His smirk deepens, but his voice stays calm when he murmurs, “You wanna try, or you need me to do all the work?”

You laugh, breathless and anxious, shaking your head. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kenny grins. “Yeah, that’s kinda the whole point.”

You swallow, hands gripping your dress tighter. Finally, you make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you shift closer, your knees sinking into the mattress. Your movements are slow, hesitant, but Kenny doesn’t pull away—he just watches, his expression calm, patient, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next.

Your hands land on his knees, plopping down with a little less grace than you intended, fingers squeezing lightly like you need something to ground yourself. You can feel the warmth of him through the fabric of his jeans, solid and real beneath your palms.

You’re close now. Really close. You stare at his face, your breath uneven as you take in every detail you never let yourself look at for this long before.

His eyes—so blue, deeper in this dim lighting, framed by lashes that are unfairly thick. His freckles, scattered across his nose and cheekbones, some so faint they’re almost invisible against his skin. The silver glint of his lip piercing, the slight redness around the hoop in his eyebrow, like he’s fidgeted with it too much today.

And fuck, he smells good. The familiar scent of smoke clings to him, but underneath it, you catch the warm spice of his cologne—something woody, a little sweet, mixed with the faint musk of skin warmed by too many layers. It makes your stomach twist, makes your fingers dig just slightly into his knees.

Kenny doesn’t smirk, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make it a thing. His lips part just slightly, his gaze steady, something careful about the way he’s looking at you now—relaxed, sure of himself, but also waiting. Like he’s giving you all the time in the world to figure out what you want to do next.

Your breathing is shallow, your pulse wild. You wet your lips, eyes flicking downward for half a second before snapping back up, nervous energy coiled tight in your chest.

Kenny tilts his head slightly, voice low. “You good?”

You bite your lip, the pressure grounding you for half a second, but it doesn’t help much. Your chest is tight, stomach twisted into nervous knots, hands still resting on Kenny’s knees like they belong there. You can feel your pulse, each beat heavy in your throat, behind your ribs, beneath your skin.

And then, before you can stop yourself, you shake your head lightly. Kenny notices. His eyebrows lift just a little, his lips parting like he’s about to ask what’s wrong, but you speak first—your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can you…?” Your fingers twitch against the rough denim beneath them, gripping slightly before loosening again. You swallow hard, eyes flicking to his lips, then back up. “Can you start it?”

Kenny blinks once, slowly, and you hate how nervous you feel under his gaze, how exposed you must look right now. You don’t even know why you asked, why the words slipped out so naturally. Maybe it’s because you don’t trust yourself to get this right. Maybe it’s because if you make the first move, you’ll hesitate, overthink, ruin it before it even happens.

Kenny’s expression shifts—his smirk isn’t there anymore, but he doesn’t look surprised either. He lifts a hand, slow and easy, and rests it against your hip.

“You sure?” His voice is quiet,  so much gentler than you expected.

You nod again, a little too quickly. “Yeah.”

Kenny hums, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your dress, barely a touch at all, just a faint pressure against your hip. He’s still watching you, still waiting like he’s making absolutely sure you won’t change your mind.

And then, finally, he moves. It’s slow—so slow that it almost drives you insane. He shifts forward just enough that his nose bumps yours, his breath warm when it ghosts over your lips. His hand on your hip squeezes, just a little, like he’s giving you one last chance to pull away.

But you don’t. You can’t. Your eyes flutter shut just as he finally closes the space between you, pressing his lips to yours.

For a moment, your brain short-circuits. Every nerve in your body goes into overdrive, screaming at you that this is happening, that Kenny’s mouth is on yours, that this isn’t a dream or a joke or some hypothetical situation—you’re kissing him.

In your panic, you react way too fast. You lean in too hard, pressing your face into his like you’re trying to merge with him. Your nose smashes against his cheek, and for half a second, you swear you can hear the muffled oomph he lets out as you practically headbutt him.

Kenny jerks back, startled, hands instinctively flying up.

And then—

He starts laughing.

A deep, unrestrained laugh bursts out of him, his head tipping back slightly, shoulders shaking. His fingers press against his mouth for a second like he’s processing what just happened, but it does nothing to hide his grin.

“Oh, fuck—” He exhales through his laughter, eyes shining with amusement. “You tryna kill me?”

Your entire body floods with mortification. “Oh my God,” you groan, covering your face with both hands. “I hate myself.”

Kenny snickers, still shaking his head. “That was—I mean, holy shit, that was aggressive. That was a choice.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Your voice comes out strangled, your face burning so hot you swear you’re seconds away from combusting.

Kenny wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning. “You face-planted into me. That was like—” He presses his palm flat against his face, mimicking the movement. “That was a full-on body slam.”

You groan again, collapsing forward onto his shoulder. “I knew this was a mistake.”

Kenny chuckles, hands settling lightly against your waist. “Nah, it was hilarious.”

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “It was not hilarious.”

His smirk grows. “It kinda was.”

You let out a dramatic, suffering groan, gripping the fabric of his band tee in your fists. “I knew I’d be bad at this.”

Kenny clicks his tongue, tilting his head. “Nah. You’re just overthinking it.”

You huff, still gripping his shirt. “Overthinking what? I literally attacked your face.”

Kenny grins, squeezing your waist lightly. “Yeah, you did. Real eager. Love the enthusiasm.”

You whine in embarrassment, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder again. “You’re so annoying.”

Kenny snickers, rubbing slow circles against your hip with his thumb. “Relax. We’ll try again.”

You hesitate, your breath catching slightly. “W-We?”

He leans in a little, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Yeah, we.”

Slowly, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt. His smirk is smaller now, his amusement still lingering, but there’s no teasing in his expression anymore. His eyes are steady, locked onto yours, his grip on your waist grounding, warm.

Kenny tilts his head slightly, his voice lower when he asks, “That okay?”

You nod. That’s all it takes. Kenny leans in again, slower this time, his lips brushing against yours before pressing in fully. The kiss is soft, deliberate—nothing rushed or messy, just the warmth of his mouth against yours, the slight tilt of his head, the faint inhale he takes between movements. It’s nice. It feels good.

And then, without thinking, you shove your tongue into his mouth like you’re trying to force the next step instead of easing into it.

Kenny makes a muffled, startled sound before breaking away, hands gripping your waist to push you back slightly. You barely process what happened before you see the expression on his face—his mouth parted, blinking like you physically knocked the breath out of him.

His lips twitch. And twitch again. His shoulders shake as he presses his fist against his mouth, exhaling sharply through his nose, trying so hard not to crack up.

“NOT AGAIN,” you groan, hands flying to your face.

Kenny inhales sharply, his voice tight like he’s forcing himself to sound normal. “I—” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “No, no, it was good—”

You peek between your fingers. “You’re lying.”

“I swear,” he says, his voice strained like he’s barely keeping it together.

“You are literally trying not to laugh—”

“I’m—” Kenny presses his lips together hard, but a short chuckle escapes before he can stop it. He exhales, grinning. “Okay, maybe you jumped the gun a little.”

“I suffocated you,” you mumble into his shirt.

He snickers. “I mean, yeah. A little. But hey, some people are into that.”

You groan louder, shoving his shoulder weakly. “Shut up.”

Kenny only grins, reaching up with deliberate ease to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your skin, warm and unhurried, lingering for just a second longer than necessary before falling back down. The touch is soft, so casual, like he’s done it a hundred times before, like it means nothing. But your stomach clenches, breath stalling in your throat as if it does.

He hums lightly, amusement flickering in his expression as he tilts his head. “Third time’s the charm.”

Your pulse jumps. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, because you know he’s teasing, but the way he says it—the slow drag of his voice, the rasp in his tone—makes your body go completely useless. You feel it everywhere, a warmth that pools beneath your ribs, creeping down your spine, curling into your fingers. You should say something back, roll your eyes, laugh it off. Do anything but stare at him like an idiot.

Kenny notices immediately. The smirk on his lips softens, the playfulness in his expression giving way to something calmer, something steadier. He doesn’t make another joke, doesn’t push you like you’re expecting. Instead, his hands lift with an ease that makes your throat tighten, fingers curving around your face like he’s done this before—like it’s second nature. His palms are warm, rough in some places but gentle against your skin, his thumbs brushing slow, absentminded strokes over the apples of your cheeks.

You feel small beneath his hands, every inch of you burning under his stare. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you like this—like they weren’t in a hurry, like they weren’t waiting for you to mess up, like they wanted to see you like this.

You barely manage to force a weak smile, uncertain and shaky, but it’s real, and Kenny sees it. His own smile lingers just a second longer, and then, finally, he leans in.

Your entire body feels locked in place, nerves coiling so tightly that you’re convinced you might combust before his lips even touch yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth, the slight shift of his fingers against your skin as he tilts his head. It’s slow—painfully, agonizingly slow—and you don’t know if it’s because he’s hesitating or because he knows you need the time to process what’s happening. Either way, it makes your head spin.

Then, finally, his lips press against yours. Your stomach tightens, breath catching in your throat as you press in slightly, mirroring the gentle pressure he gives. His lips move against yours with an easy confidence, coaxing you into the rhythm of it, letting you take your time. It’s nothing like you imagined. It’s better.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss just enough to send a shiver down your spine, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks again, keeping you steady. It’s effortless, natural, like you were always supposed to be here, like kissing Kenny McCormick was never meant to feel awkward or forced or rushed. It just is.

You mirror him, shifting slightly as your hands slide up from his knees to rest against his chest. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingers, warmed by his body heat, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You part your lips just a little more, letting him take the lead, letting yourself follow the rhythm he’s already set. When you exhale, a quiet, breathy whimper slips out before you can stop it.

Kenny reacts immediately. His fingers tighten against your waist, just enough for you to feel it, for it to send a spark down your spine. His lips press harder against yours, the teasing edge from earlier gone completely, replaced with something slower, heavier. His hand slips from your cheek, fingers dragging lightly down your jaw before settling at the side of your neck, his thumb pressing just beneath your pulse point.

Your lips part slightly, and the second they do, Kenny takes it. His tongue slides against yours, slow, careful, like he’s waiting to see how you’ll react. And the only thing you can do is melt into it.

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling slightly, and Kenny groans softly into your mouth. The sound is quiet, but you feel it like a shock straight through your chest. It makes, your body feel too warm, too aware of every place he’s touching you. You can’t tell if it’s the weed still lingering in your system, making everything feel heavier, or if it’s just him. Either way, you don’t care. You don’t stop. You don’t overthink it. You just let it happen.

Kenny moves against you, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to teach you what this is supposed to feel like. His lips mold perfectly to yours, warm and sure, his fingers pressing into your waist in a way that makes your body melt into the heat of him. You part your lips slightly, mirroring the way he tilts his head, and the second he deepens the kiss more, a slow warmth curls through you, leaving your fingers twitching against his chest.

Then—

The sound of keys jingling outside the door yanks you back to reality like a bucket of ice water.

The two of you jerk apart so fast it’s almost embarrassing. You scramble to put space between your bodies, hands gripping the mattress to steady yourself as your heart slams against your ribs. Kenny reacts a second slower, still blinking like his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet, his lips slightly parted, his fingers frozen midair where they had been gripping your waist just moments ago. Your breaths come fast, uneven, your body still buzzing with the ghost of his touch, and you barely have time to process what just happened before the door swings open.

Butters rushes inside, his face flushed, hair slightly damp with sweat, his entire body vibrating like he just ran all the way across campus. He doesn’t even look at you and Kenny, doesn’t notice how far apart you suddenly are, doesn’t clock the tension radiating off you both like heat off pavement. He just stumbles into the room, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his hands shaking as he points back toward the door, his voice high and breathless as he blurts out, “There was so much blood.”

You barely register the words at first, still too dazed from what just happened, your mind still stuck in the feel of Kenny’s hands on you, his mouth pressed against yours. But the way Butters’ voice cracks at the end, the way he looks genuinely rattled, has your body catching up before your brain does. You sit up straighter, blinking fast, heart still hammering in your chest as you try to force your thoughts back to reality.

Kenny, on the other hand, just sighs, running a hand down his face like this is the most exhausting thing he’s had to deal with today. “Jesus, dude,” he mutters, shaking his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Butters is still catching his breath, gripping the back of his desk chair like he needs to physically steady himself. “Th-That kid that knocked earlier—he wasn’t jokin’!” His voice wobbles, his hands still shaking. “Some guy split his forehead open on the stairs, and—and oh golly, Kenny, there was so much blood—I think he passed out before the paramedics even got there!”

The words hit you like a slap, your stomach flipping in actual concern this time. “Are you serious?”

“I—I didn’t know what to do! His friend was freakin’ out, and I—oh gosh, I’ve never seen so much blood come outta someone’s head before, I swear—”

You barely hear the rest. Your brain is still reeling, but not for the right reasons. Butters is talking, still rambling about the student, about how the ambulance showed up and how the paramedics asked him questions he definitely wasn’t qualified to answer. But you’re only half-listening, only catching pieces of his words, because your whole body still feels hot from the kiss, your lips still tingle from Kenny’s, and sitting here next to him like nothing happened feels impossible.

And Kenny—of course Kenny—looks totally fine. Relaxed, even. Like he wasn’t just making out with you on Butters’ bed, like he wasn’t just kissing you like he meant it, like he wasn’t just touching you like he wanted to. He sits there, his legs stretched out slightly, arms resting on his knees, nodding along to whatever Butters is saying like he’s actually paying attention. But when you glance at him, you see it. The way his tongue flicks out just slightly to wet his lips. The way his fingers twitch against his knee like he’s resisting the urge to move. The way he hasn’t put much distance between you, like some part of him doesn’t want to.

Kenny finally exhales, long and slow, before pushing himself off the bed. The mattress shifts beneath you as he stands, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he crosses the room, his usual lazy swagger in his step despite the fact that Butters still looks shaken.

Butters is gripping the back of his desk chair so tightly that his knuckles are white, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. His face is flushed, his eyes darting wildly like his brain is still stuck back there, still seeing the blood pooling on the floor.

Kenny doesn’t say anything at first. He just steps up behind Butters and throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a loose, lazy half-hug, his lips brushing close to Butters’ ear as he murmurs something low, something you don’t catch. But whatever it is, it works—Butters’ shoulders slump slightly, his grip on the chair loosening as he exhales shakily, nodding along to whatever Kenny is saying.

You take the moment for what it is—a chance to breathe, to collect yourself, to force your body to calm down. You exhale sharply, pushing the thought away, and move on autopilot. Your fingers smooth out the fabric of your dress, adjusting the hem where it had bunched up slightly, fixing the way the straps had slipped off your shoulders without you even noticing. Your hair is next. You reach up, smoothing your fingers through it, checking for any tangles, for anything that might look out of place. The last thing you need is for Butters to turn around and see something, to somehow know just from looking at you.

You grab your phone off the bed, fingers ghosting over the screen, but instead of unlocking it, you hesitate.

Your thumb drags absently along the edge of the device before you press it lightly against your lips, your stomach twisting when you feel the slight swell, the lingering dampness. They tingle, faint but noticeable, like a reminder that Kenny had just been there, that this wasn’t some hazy, almost happened moment.

You shake the thought away and reach for your bag instead, fingers digging through it until you find your makeup pouch. The zipper slides open with a quiet rasp, and you pull out your lip tint and gloss, checking your reflection in your phone screen as you reapply both with quick, practiced strokes. The tint darkens your lips back to the way they were before, covering the slight redness, making it look like nothing happened. The gloss goes on smooth, sticky, sealing everything back in place like armor.

You click the cap back on, slip both items back into your bag, and inhale deeply through your nose before finally looking up again.

Kenny still has an arm slung around Butters, still murmuring to him in that same low, easy voice, like he’s talking him down from the adrenaline. Butters’ breathing has slowed, his shoulders less tense, his face still a little pale but no longer panicked.

And then, as if sensing you watching, Kenny lifts his gaze, his eyes finding yours across the room. His expression doesn’t change. Not really. But his eyes linger.

You look away and check the time on your phone and your stomach twists when you realize how late it is. Damien is going to pick you up soon. The thought feels distant, almost unreal, like something you planned ages ago rather than something happening tonight.

You exhale sharply, pushing the nerves down, and stand up from the bed. Immediately, your legs feel unsteady, a little too light, like the ground isn’t as solid as it should be. The weed is still affecting you. You blink a few times, steadying yourself before making your way toward Butters and Kenny.

Kenny steps to the side as you approach, moving out of the way like he already knows what you’re about to do. Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around Butters first, pulling him into a warm hug, rubbing his back lightly.

“You good?” you murmur, keeping your voice quiet.

Butters exhales, nodding against your shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, still a little shaky. “I think so.”

You give him another squeeze before pulling back slightly, keeping a hand on his arm. “After my date, I can come back here,” you offer. “We can just hang out or something. You don’t have to be alone.”

Butters blinks at you before smiling, the gesture small but genuine. “Yeah,” he says, voice softer now. “That’d be nice.”

You nod, giving his arm one last reassuring squeeze before finally turning toward Kenny.

He’s already watching you, his expression relaxed but focused. The second you step forward, his lips twitch, his body shifting slightly like he already knows what’s coming. You wrap your arms around him without hesitation, pressing yourself against his chest, hugging him tightly. His arms slide around you with that same casual ease, warm and solid, his grip firm against your back.

You don’t pull away immediately. Instead, you tilt your head up, looking at him, and smile. “Seriously,” you say, your voice quiet but certain. “Thank you.”

Kenny doesn’t say anything right away. His eyes flicker over your face, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s holding onto something unspoken. Then, after a beat, his smirk returns, slow and lazy.

“Anytime, babe.”

You smile up at him before sticking your tongue out, scrunching your nose in a playful grimace. Kenny huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly, his grip on you loosening as you finally step back.

“I’ll text you how it goes, yeah?” you say, adjusting your dress as you glance between him and Butters. “And you better actually reply this time.”

Kenny tilts his head, his smirk deepening. “Oh, so now you want me to text you?” His voice is low and teasing.

You roll your eyes, lightly smacking his arm before stepping back fully. “Yes, asshole. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Kenny chuckles, stretching his arms behind his head like this is all just some casual conversation, like he wasn’t just kissing you not even five minutes ago. “Yeah, yeah, I got you.” He flicks his eyes over you once, slow and assessing, before lazily adding, “Have fun on your little date.”

There’s something in the way he says it, something subtle, but you don’t have time to pick it apart. You shoot him a look but decide not to push, not when your nerves are already creeping back in.

You grab your phone and bag, giving Butters one last reassuring squeeze on the arm before heading toward the door. You should be thinking about Damien, about the date, about whether or not this was all a mistake.

But as you step into the hallway, you feel it again—your lips still tingling, your heartbeat still uneven, the warmth of Kenny’s hands still lingering on your skin.

It’s been a couple of hours since you left, and Kenny shouldn’t still be thinking about you. But he is.

You’d barely been gone ten minutes before he was pulling out his phone, checking for a text that hadn’t even been sent yet. He told himself he was just making sure he didn’t miss it—because obviously, he’d respond if you actually messaged him this time. But when he caught himself doing it again twenty minutes later, he knew he was full of shit.

So, to distract himself (and Butters), he called over Cartman, Stan, and Kyle, because watching some shitty movie at Butters’ dorm was definitely better than sitting around with his own thoughts.

Now, he’s stretched out on Butters’ bed, his parka tossed onto the floor, legs crossed at the ankles while some generic action flick plays on the TV. Cartman is sitting on Butters’ desk chair, hogging the popcorn like a gremlin, Kyle is sitting on the floor with his back against the side of the bed, and Stan is lazily leaning against the edge of Butters’ desk. Butters himself is perched at the foot of the bed, still looking mildly traumatized from earlier, but at least he’s not freaking out anymore.

Kenny should be into this—should be enjoying the mindless explosions, the dumb banter, the way Cartman keeps making fun of the movie while Stan and Kyle bicker about literally nothing. But his head isn’t here. Not really.

Because every few minutes, he glances at his phone. Still nothing.

His tongue swipes along his bottom lip, his teeth sinking into it slightly as his leg bounces against the mattress. He doesn’t check the time again, even though he wants to. It doesn’t fucking matter how late it is. You’re probably still on the date. Probably having a great fucking time. Probably—

“Dude,” Stan says suddenly, snapping Kenny out of his thoughts. “Why the hell do you look so pissed?”

Kenny blinks, realizing he’s been glowering at the TV screen without even realizing it. He exhales sharply, schooling his face back into something neutral before throwing a lazy smirk in Stan’s direction. “Just thinking about how much of a dumbass you are.”

Stan rolls his eyes, flicking a piece of popcorn at him. “Wow. Classic comeback.”

“Yeah, I’m workshopping it,” Kenny says, popping a chip into his mouth, but the momentary distraction isn’t enough to pull him back into the present. His focus drifts again, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for his phone.

He checks his messages. Still nothing.

Kenny clicks his tongue, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him like he doesn’t give a shit. But he does. And he fucking hates that he does.

Butters, still sitting at the foot of the bed, swings his legs a little before turning toward Kenny, his expression innocent but curious. “Hey, Ken, you think [Y/N]’s date’s goin’ well?”

The entire room goes quiet. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman all turn to look at him at the same time, like someone just hit pause on the movie. Kenny feels the weight of their stares pressing against him, waiting, and he instantly regrets not leaving the second you did.

Kyle is the first to speak, eyebrows pulling together as he shifts where he’s sitting on the floor. “Wait—she has a date?”

Butters, completely unaware of the way Kenny’s jaw tenses, nods. “Yeah! With Damien.”

Cartman throws his head back and howls. It’s loud, obnoxious, and grating in the way only Cartman can manage, and Kenny immediately wants to deck him.

“Oh, that’s fucking priceless,” Cartman wheezes, wiping at his eyes. “The girl we spent our whole goddamn childhood with—the girl who’s never held hands, never kissed anyone, never even had a fucking crush—finally gets a date, and it’s with Damien fucking Thorn?”

Kyle shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing at his temple. “Of all people.”

Stan snorts, pushing himself up slightly from the desk. “Is she trying to summon Satan, or—?”

Kenny doesn’t say shit. He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t joke. Doesn’t react the way he usually would. Because for the past two fucking hours, he’s been sitting here, waiting for a text, waiting for a reason to stop thinking about your lips, about how fucking soft you were against him, about the way your hands fisted into his shirt like you didn’t want to let go. 

And now, all he can think about is you—with him. You, sitting across from Damien at some dimly lit restaurant, playing with your drink, tucking your hair behind your ear. You, laughing at something he said, eyes bright, that soft smile on your lips. You, nervous but excited, wondering if you’ll kiss him goodnight.

Kenny’s stomach turns, something bitter rising in his throat.

Cartman is still laughing, still rambling about how it’s so fucking weird that you, you, are on a date at all, and it’s pissing Kenny the fuck off.

He exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tightening, forcing himself to stay neutral, forcing himself to keep his expression lazy, unreadable. He leans back against the bed, grabbing his phone again, spinning it once in his palm.

“Yeah, well,” Kenny finally mutters, voice even, controlled. “Guess she finally got sick of waiting around.” 

Cartman turns to Kenny, still grinning like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He leans forward in the chair, resting his elbow on Butters’ desk, and points at Kenny with a smirk that already pisses him off. The kind of look Cartman gets when he knows he’s about to dig into something good.

“Dude, come on,” Cartman says, shaking his head with a loud laugh. “I thought you got over your little crush on her. It’s been years, man.”

Kyle sighs through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at Kenny. His voice isn’t teasing like Cartman’s, but there’s still that familiar hint of exasperation in it. “Seriously, man? You’ve had, what, like—multiple hookups, a few relationships? You’ve dated both guys and girls, and you’re still stuck on her?” He tilts his head, his expression softer than Cartman’s but still scrutinizing. “It’s not a big deal if you still like her or whatever, but…” He hesitates for a second, like he’s actually trying to be careful with his words. “You don’t think that’s kind of unhealthy?”

Kenny flips his phone in his hand, keeping his face blank, his fingers the only part of him that moves. He could laugh, make a joke, brush it off. Could tell them all to fuck off and mind their own business. But for some reason, he doesn’t say anything.

Stan, still lounging against the desk, tilts his head and smirks. “Dude, you need to get laid.”

Kyle groans, already rubbing his temples. “That’s not even the problem, Stan. He does get laid.”

“Yeah, but apparently, it’s not enough,” Cartman chimes in, his grin widening. “Because if it was, he wouldn’t be sitting here, waiting for his childhood crush to text him back while she’s out with the literal son of Satan.”

Kenny clenches his jaw but doesn’t change his expression. He keeps his posture loose, casual, like none of this is phasing him, like he hasn’t spent the past two hours waiting for his phone to light up, like his stomach hasn’t been twisted in knots since the second you left.

It pisses him off how easy it is for them to pick at him, how it takes barely anything for them to know. He’s never been obvious about it. He’s never acted weird about you. Sure, he’s flirted, but he flirts with everyone. He’s never admitted anything, never made it a thing, never once told you. But it doesn’t matter. Because they all see it. They have for years.

He could play it off, act like they’re just reaching, like he’s only checking in because you’re his best friend and of course he’s going to make sure you’re okay. That would be easy. That’s what he should do.

But instead, he just shrugs, rolling onto his side and stretching out further on the bed, tossing his phone onto the pillow next to him. “Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he mutters, voice flat. “I’m not waiting for anything.”

Cartman snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, dude.”

Kyle gives him a look but doesn’t push it. “Whatever, man. I just hope she’s having a good time.”

Stan doesn’t say anything for a second, then kicks lightly at the mattress near Kenny’s leg. “You wanna stop being all moody and actually watch the movie?”

Kenny doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t rise to it, doesn’t argue, doesn’t let them see the way his jaw tightens slightly as he shifts against the mattress.

Butters, ever the optimist, glances over at him and brightens up, like he’s trying to steer the conversation into something less tense. He claps his hands together once before pointing at Kenny with a knowing look.

“Don’t worry about it, Ken! I heard Tammy Warner’s gonna be at Tolkien’s party this weekend.”

Kenny exhales through his nose, his lips twitching like he’s debating whether or not to dignify that with a response. He props himself up on one elbow, glancing over at Butters with a lazy smirk. “Oh yeah?”

Butters nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! She broke up with her boyfriend a couple weeks ago, and—well, y’know how she is. She’s probably lookin’ to, uh… ya know…” He trails off, his cheeks going pink, and gestures vaguely with his hands.

Stan snorts. “Hook up with the first guy who gives her a drink?”

Kyle shakes his head. “Jesus, Stan.”

Cartman just grins. “Nah, that is how she operates, though. And Kenny’s always been on her list.”

Kenny chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair. He knows exactly what they’re trying to do—trying to get him to shake this off, trying to remind him that there are others, that there’s no reason for him to be sitting here like some lovesick loser. It’s almost funny, because any other time, he’d be all over it. He’d make some crude joke, lean into it, turn the conversation into something easy, something typical.

But right now, the thought of fucking around with Tammy Warner or anyone else just feels boring. Still, he plays along, because that’s what he does.

“She has been lookin’ at me a lot lately,” Kenny muses, smirking as he stretches his arms over his head. “Guess I wouldn’t mind giving her a little attention.”

Cartman barks out a laugh. “Oh, please. If you show up, she’s gonna throw herself at you the second you walk in.”

Kyle makes a face. “Do you even like her, though?”

Kenny shrugs, rolling onto his back again. “She’s fun. Hot. Knows what she wants.” His tone is casual, dismissive, like he’s already mentally moving on from the subject. “What’s not to like?”

Butters nods quickly, like he’s relieved to see Kenny back to acting like himself. “See? So, no reason to be mopin’ around! You got options, buddy!”

Stan hums in agreement. “And Tolkien’s parties always get wild. Even I have a good time, and I hate parties.”

Kenny just smirks, grabbing his phone off the pillow next to him and spinning it in his fingers again. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

But his eyes flicker to the screen anyway. Still no text.

An hour passes. The movie is ending, the credits rolling over an overdramatic orchestral score that doesn’t fit the half-dead energy in the room. Cartman is slumped in Butters’ desk chair, his arms crossed over his stomach, eyes half-lidded like he’s been in and out of sleep for the past twenty minutes. Kyle sits on the floor, absently scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to anything. Stan, now stretched across the foot of the bed, lazily reaches for the last of the snacks, finishing off an open bag of chips. Butters, still sitting near Kenny, yawns loudly, rubbing his eyes like he’s about two seconds from passing out himself.

Kenny barely watched the movie. His thoughts have been elsewhere all night, drifting between wanting to stop thinking about you and failing miserably at it. He tells himself it’s not a big deal, that you’re probably still out, that he’s wasting his time even checking. But despite all of that, his gaze keeps flicking to his phone. And then, as if the universe wanted to personally fuck him over, the screen lights up.

His entire body goes still for half a second before he reaches for it, his thumb swiping across the screen. He already knows it’s from you—he doesn’t even have to check. And then he reads it.

you: date went great btw!!! he said i looked rlly good and he was soooo sweet. like literally the nicest guy ever. and guess what?? he kissed me at the end!!!

The words sit there, glowing back at him, far too fucking cheery, far too casual, like they aren’t currently making his stomach twist into a tight, ugly knot. He reads it twice, three times, like maybe it’ll change, like maybe he misread it, like maybe he’s fucking hallucinating. But the words don’t change.

You kissed him. Damien fucking Thorn.

His jaw locks, his fingers tightening around his phone. He tells himself it shouldn’t matter. It’s not a big deal. It was one date. Of course it ended with a kiss. Of course Damien was sweet to you. Of course he complimented you. What kind of guy wouldn’t? Kenny isn’t surprised. But it still pisses him off. It’s not like he’s ever had a claim on you. It’s not like he’s ever done anything about it. He has no right to be pissed off. No right to feel anything about it at all.

So instead of saying what he actually wants to say, he types out the easiest, laziest response he can manage.

kenny: damn, first date and he’s already makin moves? u really are growin up on me 🤧

His thumb hesitates over the send button for a second longer than it should. Then, finally, he taps the screen.

The response comes back almost immediately.

you: shut upppp 😭 it was cute ok

Kenny exhales slowly through his nose, staring at the message before clicking his phone off and tossing it back onto the bed. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

Across the room, Kyle  stretches with a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, I’m calling it. I got an early class tomorrow.”

Stan nods, shoving his phone into his pocket as he pushes himself up off the floor. “Yeah, same. You heading out, Cartman?”

Cartman doesn’t even open his eyes. “Five more minutes.”

Kyle rolls his eyes, grabbing a pillow off Butters’ bed and chucking it at him. “Get your fat ass up.”

Kenny barely listens.

His mind is elsewhere, replaying your text over and over again, the words echoing in his head like a dull, relentless pulse. He can still feel the way your body pressed against his earlier, the way your lips moved with his, the way you had looked at him right before you left. And now you’re probably sitting in your dorm, smiling down at your phone, thinking about someone else.

It’s been a few days since you practiced kissing with Kenny, and you’ve been doing your best not to think about it.

Some moments, it’s easy. When you’re in class, when you’re studying, when you’re texting Damien and planning your next date. But then, there are times—like when you catch Kenny watching you across the dining hall, when you reapply lip gloss and your lips still tingle faintly—where it sneaks back into your mind before you can stop it.

Now, though, you’re focused on Damien. You’re walking together toward your next class, the air crisp with the last bite of winter, the sun filtering through the trees overhead. He walks with an effortless kind of confidence, hands tucked into the pockets of his black coat, his silver chain catching in the light when he turns his head. And being around him still makes you nervous. So you talk. Maybe a little too much.

“…And then Cartman had the nerve to say I looked like a Hot Topic employee who got fired for shoplifting,” you say, throwing your hands up. “Like, first of all, rude. Second of all, if anyone’s getting arrested for stealing, it’s him.”

Damien lets out a quiet laugh, lips twitching at the corners. “I mean, I think you could pull off the shoplifter look. Maybe a black beanie. A fuck capitalism pin on your bag.”

You groan, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Not you too.”

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, his smirk growing. “The vibe is there.”

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your sweater as you walk.

It still feels surreal that this is happening. That Damien, who always has people hanging onto his every word in class, is walking with you like this is normal. That he kissed you. That he wants to see you again. Your stomach twists, but you push through it, forcing yourself to act normal.

“So,” you say, shifting the conversation, “are you still coming to Tolkien’s party this weekend?”

Damien hums, tilting his head slightly. “Probably. I don’t really do parties, but I feel like if I don’t go, I’ll have to hear about it for the next three months.”

You laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

He glances at you, his expression relaxed but interested. “Are you going?”

You nod. “Yeah, Kenny and the guys are going, and Butters practically begged me to be his drinking buddy.”

Damien smirks. “Good to know your priorities are in order.”

You laugh again, and for the first time since you started walking together, the nerves ease. The conversation flows easily after that, moving from music to class to whatever dumb shit Cartman sent in the group chat this morning. You don’t even notice how much time has passed until you round the corner of the building, and the topic changes so fast you almost miss it.

“Speaking of Tolkien’s party,” Damien says, his voice casual, “it’s probably gonna be a shitshow. People will be hooking up left and right.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Oh. Yeah, probably.”

Damien smirks, glancing at you with interest. “Ever had a drunken hookup before?”

Your face heats up immediately. “What? No.” You let out an awkward laugh, waving your hands dismissively. “I mean, I don’t really do that kind of thing.”

Damien hums, his smirk never fading. “No judgment. Some people like that whole ‘bad decisions’ thrill.” He studies you for a second, like he’s trying to piece together something in his head. “So, what do you do?”

You blink, caught completely off guard. “Uh.”

Damien stops walking for a moment, turning slightly toward you, one eyebrow raising when you don’t answer right away. “Wait.” His smirk grows a little, teasing but still curious. “You haven’t?”

Your stomach clenches, and you glance away, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “I—um.” You hesitate before letting out a breath. “I mean. Not really.”

Damien watches your face closely. Then, after a beat, his amusement shifts into something more thoughtful. “Like… at all?”

You wince, laughing a little at how awkward this has become. “Yeah.” You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. “I’m not exactly experienced. Or whatever.”

Damien is quiet for a moment, then he exhales, the smirk on his lips easing into something closer to a smile. His eyes soften slightly, and his voice comes out smooth, calm. “That’s actually kind of cute.”

You stare at him, caught completely off guard. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it doesn’t mean anything, like he isn’t making your stomach flip.

Before you can even begin to respond, he continues, his tone light but reassuring. “You don’t need to stress about that kind of thing. It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs, still looking at you with that same relaxed expression. “Everyone starts somewhere.”

You blink up at him, still processing, but the way he says it—the way he doesn’t make it weird or tease you—makes the tension in your chest loosen. You exhale, your grip on your bag finally relaxing.

“Yeah,” you say after a second, your voice softer now. “I guess you’re right.”

Damien grins. “I usually am.”

You roll your eyes, but when you glance at him again, you’re smiling. A real smile, not the small, polite ones you’ve been giving him all day, but a bright, genuine one that takes over your whole face before you even realize it.

Damien looks at you, his expression shifting slightly. His smirk doesn’t quite drop, but the way he watches you changes, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction. Like it threw him off for just a second.

You hesitate for only a moment before smiling again, pushing through the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. “Thanks for walking me,” you say, shifting your weight from foot to foot before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

The second you pull away, heat creeps up your neck, your body reacting before your brain fully processes what you just did. It wasn’t a big deal—just a small, fleeting thing—but the way Damien’s smirk grows makes your stomach twist.

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “No problem,” he says easily, voice smooth. “I’ll text you later.”

You nod, mumbling a soft “okay” before turning toward the lecture hall doors. You feel his gaze on you as you step inside, but you don’t look back.

The second you sit down, you let out a slow breath, pulling out your phone and unlocking it without thinking. Your fingers move automatically as you tap open your messages and start typing to Kenny.

you: bro i just had the wildest convo w damien on the way to class. i accidentally told him i have no experience and he was like oh that’s cute lol 

You hit send, staring at the screen for a second before typing again.

you: i literally almost died but he was nice abt it

A few moments pass. You glance up at the front of the lecture hall, half-listening as people settle into their seats. Your professor hasn’t arrived yet, so you check your phone again. Kenny’s typing bubble appears, then disappears. Then, finally, his reply pops up.

kenny: yeah? that’s great

You frown slightly at the screen. That’s… not the response you were expecting. Kenny’s usually quick with teasing, always throwing in some dumb joke or a sarcastic remark. But this? This is short. Blunt. Almost dismissive.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

you: ur not gonna roast me for it? damn. personal growth 🫡

This time, his reply is almost immediate.

kenny: nah, just busy

You stare at the screen. He’s never been this short with you before. Even when he was actually busy, he’d still throw in something snarky. Before you can think too much about it, your professor walks in, signaling the start of class. You sigh, slipping your phone back into your bag, but the feeling lingers, nagging at the back of your mind.

It’s the night of Tolkien’s party, and your dorm room is in total chaos. Clothes are piled onto your bed, half your makeup bag is scattered across your desk, and an open energy drink sits precariously close to your curling iron. Red is perched on her bed, legs crossed, lazily sipping from her drink as she watches you sift through outfits with mild amusement. Butters sits cross-legged on the floor, fidgeting with his sweater sleeves, looking between you and Red like he’s trying to decide if he should offer input or keep quiet.

“You’re really committing to this look, huh?” Red teases, tilting her head as she watches you adjust your top in the mirror.

You give her a flat look through the reflection. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She grins, her eyes flicking over you before she takes another sip of her drink. “I mean, I get dressing up for a party, but this is definitely more effort than usual.”

You roll your eyes, turning to Butters for backup. “Do I look that different?”

Butters, who had been nervously picking at a loose thread on his sweater, quickly looks up, blinking at you. “Uh—no! I mean—uh, you always look nice! But, um…” He hesitates, then gestures weakly at your makeup. “You did do, uh, a little more than usual.”

Red smirks knowingly. “She’s dressing up for herself, obviously.”

You groan, throwing a shirt at her. She ducks out of the way, laughing. “You guys are so annoying,” you mutter, smoothing out your skirt.

Once you’re finally finished, you grab your lip gloss, swiping it on before clicking the cap shut. As you toss it back into your bag, you hesitate, fingers trailing over the strap before you turn toward Butters. “Hey, have the guys been acting weird to you?”

Butters blinks, caught off guard. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know,” you say, frowning slightly. “It just feels like they’ve been avoiding something. Or avoiding me, I guess.” You hesitate before adding, “Kenny especially.”

Butters tilts his head in thought. “Now that you mention it… maybe a little? I mean, Stan and Kyle seem normal, but they have been kinda weird in group chat. And Kenny…” He trails off, rubbing his arm. “I dunno. He’s just been quiet. You did say he was acting different after your date, right?”

You exhale, nodding. “Yeah. I texted him about it, and he barely reacted. Then when I tried to bring it up again, he just brushed it off.”

Red shrugs, standing up and stretching. “Maybe he’s just got other shit going on.”

Butters nods, seeming to agree. “Yeah! It could just be school stress or, uh, life stuff.”

You purse your lips, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

Still, the unease lingers. Kenny has never been the kind of guy to keep things to himself. If something was bothering him, he’d either say it outright or joke about it until it wasn’t a big deal anymore. This silence, this distance, isn’t like him.

Red claps her hands together. “Alright, we going or what? If we keep standing around, we’re gonna miss the fun.”

You shake off your thoughts, forcing a smirk as you grab your bag. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

The three of you pile into an Uber, the ride buzzing with Red’s excitement and Butters’ nervous energy. Red is already scrolling through her phone, texting people to see who’s here, while Butters keeps adjusting his sweater sleeves, mumbling something about how he really shouldn’t drink too much tonight. You mostly just stare out the window, watching the city lights blur past, your stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and unease.

By the time you pull up to Tolkien’s house, the party is already in full swing. Music pulses through the air, the bass heavy enough to rattle the pavement under your feet. Groups of people are scattered across the front lawn, some laughing loudly, others deep in conversation, red solo cups in almost everyone’s hands. The porch is packed, people leaning against the railing, the front door swinging open every few seconds as more people push inside.

Red takes one look at the scene and grins. “Alright, I’m off.”

Before you can even respond, she’s already disappearing into the crowd, slipping effortlessly between people like she’s done this a hundred times before. You barely catch a glimpse of her bright red hair before she’s gone, leaving you and Butters standing at the entrance.

Butters swallows, glancing up at you. “Uh… kitchen?”

You nod. “Kitchen.”

The two of you weave through the crowded hallway, the air thick with the smell of alcohol, weed, and too many different perfumes and colognes mixing together. People are already getting sloppy—someone bumps into your shoulder, laughing loudly, barely glancing at you before stumbling toward the living room. The music is louder in here, some bass-heavy rap song vibrating against the walls.

The kitchen is just as packed, but at least it’s easier to move. Butters heads straight for the counter, eyeing the array of bottles like he’s trying to calculate which one is least likely to kill him. You hover nearby, arms crossed, keeping a close watch. Butters is a lightweight—last time he drank too much, he spent two hours apologizing to everyone at a party before throwing up in Stan’s backyard.

He grabs a bottle of vodka, hesitating before pouring some into his cup. “Uh. Maybe I should mix it with something.”

You grab a random soda from the counter and hand it to him. “Yeah, maybe don’t kill yourself in the first five minutes.”

Butters mumbles a thanks, focusing on making his drink. You take the moment to glance around the kitchen, scanning the crowd. You recognize most of the people here—Tolkien’s parties always bring in a mix of friend groups, but it’s mostly familiar faces. Wendy is leaning against the fridge, deep in conversation with Bebe. Craig and Tweek are off to the side, already looking half-drunk. A couple of freshmen linger near the drinks, clearly out of their element.

But something feels off. Then, you realize why. Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, and Stan aren’t here.

You frown slightly, checking your phone, but there are no new texts from any of them. Kyle said he was coming. Stan always shows up to these things, even if he complains about it. Cartman never misses an opportunity to drink for free. And Kenny? Kenny loves parties. So where the hell are they?

Butters must notice your expression because he looks up from his drink. “Everything okay?”

You hesitate before nodding. “Yeah. Just… surprised the guys aren’t here yet.”

Butters glances around too, frowning. “Huh. That is kinda weird. I thought Kyle said he was coming?”

“He did,” you say, checking your phone again. Still nothing. You glance at the time. “Maybe they’re just late.”

Butters shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe.”

You stay by the kitchen counter, still keeping an eye on Butters while making small talk with people who pass by. The party has only gotten louder, the music pulsing through the walls, the crowd swelling as more people arrive. Butters seems to be holding his liquor well enough—his words are still clear, and he’s not swaying yet, but his usual awkwardness has definitely increased. You’re mid-sentence, teasing him about how he always nurses his drinks too carefully, when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“There you are.”

You turn to see Damien standing at the edge of the kitchen, his sharp gray eyes scanning the room before settling on you. He looks good, as always—dressed in a fitted black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his silver chain catching the light. His smirk is easy, confident, like he already knows you were waiting for him.

“Butters,” Damien acknowledges, giving him a nod before turning his attention back to you. “I was wondering when I’d run into you.”

Your stomach flips slightly, but you push it down, giving him a smile. “Well, you found me.”

He steps closer, his hands still in his pockets, his eyes flicking over you in a way that feels intentional. “You look good tonight.”

Heat creeps up your neck, but you roll your eyes, playing it off. “Oh, so I don’t usually look good?”

Damien chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

Before you can respond, Butters lets out a quiet, nervous laugh. You glance at him and immediately notice how stiff he looks, gripping his cup like it’s his only lifeline. He’s awkward a lot, but right now, it feels different.

“You okay, dude?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Butters nods way too quickly. “Oh! Yeah! Just—uh—just drinkin’ my drink!” He takes a sip, avoiding eye contact.

You blink at him, confused, but before you can say anything else, movement from the doorway catches your eye. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman finally walk into the kitchen.

Your stomach tenses slightly. It’s not that you weren’t expecting them—it’s that something about the way they enter the room feels… off. They move together, like they were just talking about something before stepping inside. And the second they see you, all three of them hesitate for a split second.

Cartman recovers first. His face stretches into a grin before he barks out a short, amused laugh. “Oh, this is fucking hilarious.”

You barely have a second to process what that means before he’s walking straight toward you. Kyle lets out a long, pointed sigh like he already knows where this is going and wants no part of it. Stan doesn’t even acknowledge it, heading straight for the counter, grabbing a bottle, and pouring himself a drink like he’s bracing himself for whatever bullshit is about to happen.

Before you can move, Cartman slings an arm around your shoulder and squeezes, his grip firm like he’s making a show of how friendly he is.

“Ohhh, look at you,” he drawls, drawing out the words with a smirk. “Little miss hopeless romantic, out here at a party, all dressed up and ready to impress.” He pats your shoulder dramatically. “I’m so proud.”

You groan, shoving at his arm. “Cartman, get off.”

Cartman only tightens his hold for a second before finally letting go, though he doesn’t step back. Instead, his eyes flick to Damien, giving him an exaggerated once-over before tilting his head.

“So,” Cartman says, still smirking, “I take it you two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”

Damien, to his credit, doesn’t react much. He just raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? And?”

Cartman snorts, grabbing a solo cup off the counter. “Nothing. Just interesting.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you sound like you have thoughts?”

“I always have thoughts,” Cartman says, smug. He pauses for a beat, then adds, “I just think it’s fucking hilarious.”

Kyle rubs his temples, already done with this conversation. “Cartman, shut up.”

Stan takes a sip of his drink, looking like he kind of wants to see where this is going.

You glare at Cartman, resisting the urge to throw your drink at him. “Why do you even care?”

Cartman grins wider. “Oh, I don’t.” He leans in slightly, voice dropping like he’s telling some huge secret. “I just think it’s funny how fast you’re moving.”

You stare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Cartman just smirks. “Relax, I’m just making conversation.” He glances toward Damien. “You don’t mind, right?”

Damien exhales through his nose, looking entirely unbothered. If anything, he seems mildly entertained, like he’s watching a show he’s only half-invested in. “You’ve always been an instigator, huh?”

Cartman grins. “It’s a gift.” He reaches for the bottle Stan was using and pours himself a drink, still smirking like he knows something you don’t. “Anyway, don’t mind me. Have fun.”

You roll your eyes, exhaling sharply before turning back to Damien. “Sorry about him.”

Damien shrugs, his expression smooth, unconcerned. “I knew what I was getting into.” He glances briefly at Kyle and Stan, then back to you. “You sure you’re good?”

You nod, brushing it off, even though something about Cartman’s tone nags at the back of your mind. “Yeah. Let’s just enjoy the party.”

Cartman snorts loudly, making a dramatic show of taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, let’s just enjoy the party,” he mimics, shaking his head. “Because we all know how good you are at ignoring shit.”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Cartman, I swear to God—”

Butters, ever the neutral party, speaks up before you can get into it with him. “Hey, uh—where’s Kenny?”

Stan barely looks up from his drink. “Probably getting faded or some shit.” He swirls the liquid in his cup lazily before sniggering. “Or squeezing Tammy Warner’s tits.”

Your fingers tighten around your own cup, your brain immediately latching onto that part of the sentence. “Wait. Kenny’s here?”

Stan raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t he be?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. That’s a good question. You don’t know why you assumed he wasn’t coming, but after the past few days—after the weird, clipped texts, the distance, the silence—it just felt… off. And now, finding out he’s here, somewhere in this house, possibly feeling up Tammy Warner?

“Did he say he was coming?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay casual.

Kyle shrugs. “I mean, yeah? It’s a party. Kenny doesn’t need to confirm he’s showing up, he just does.”

“Yeah,” Cartman adds, still smirking. “And from what I heard, he was real excited about tonight.”

You glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cartman grins wider, taking another slow sip of his drink. “I could tell you.” He pauses, dragging it out, clearly enjoying whatever game he’s playing. Then, with a shrug, he adds, “Or, you could just go find him.”

You hate that the idea tempts you. You swallow thickly, forcing the feeling down, and turn to Damien. He’s been quiet, watching the conversation unfold with a neutral expression, his sharp eyes scanning the room like he’s already a step ahead of everyone. He doesn’t look amused or annoyed—just aware.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” you ask, keeping your voice light.

Damien’s gaze flicks back to you, studying your face for a moment. He tilts his head slightly, thoughtful, before letting out a quiet breath. “Yeah,” he says, his tone smooth, steady. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without thinking, you reach for his hand, fingers curling around his as you tug him toward the living room. His grip tightens slightly, letting you lead him through the crowded kitchen, but he doesn’t question it.

As you turn, you hear Kyle say something—too low for you to catch—but whatever it is, it makes Stan, Cartman, and Butters burst out laughing.

You don’t turn back. You don’t want to know what they’re saying. Instead, you tighten your grip on Damien’s hand, weaving through the crowded living room until you find a quieter corner near the far wall. The party is louder here—the bass from the speakers thumping through the floor, conversations blending into an unrecognizable buzz—but it’s easier to focus on him now. Away from Cartman’s bullshit, away from them, away from whatever joke they were making at your expense.

Damien leans against the wall, slipping one hand into his pocket while the other stays loosely in yours for just a second longer before he lets go. His head tilts slightly as he looks at you, his expression calm, unreadable in a way that doesn’t feel unkind—just measured.

“So,” he says, his voice even, smooth beneath the noise. “Are you actually having fun, or are we faking it?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I am having fun.”

Damien raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You exhale through your nose, rolling your eyes. “Okay, now I’m having fun. Before? Not so much.”

His lips twitch, like he’s holding back a smirk. “Because of them?”

You hesitate, then shrug. “They’re just… being them.”

Damien hums, eyes flickering past you toward the kitchen. “They’re protective of you.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He looks back at you, tilting his head. “Kyle. Stan. Even Cartman, in his own weird way. They’re watching you.”

You shift your weight, glancing over your shoulder instinctively. Sure enough, even from across the room, you catch Kyle’s eyes flicking in your direction before he quickly looks away. Stan is still talking to someone, but he’s angled toward the kitchen like he’s waiting for something. Cartman is laughing at whatever dumb shit he just said, but you know he’s keeping tabs too.

You turn back to Damien, frowning slightly. “They’re not watching me. They’re just… I don’t know, being annoying.”

Damien doesn’t argue, just studies your face for a second longer before nodding. “If you say so.”

You exhale, shaking off the conversation. “I didn’t pull you over here to talk about them.”

His expression softens slightly, a small nod of agreement. “Then what did you pull me over here for?”

You grin, tilting your head. “Maybe I just wanted to talk to you without Cartman breathing down my neck.”

He chuckles, the sound low but genuine. “That’s fair.”

The conversation shifts after that. The longer you stand there, the easier it is to relax again. The knot in your stomach loosens, your shoulders drop, and soon, you’re laughing with Damien, your voice getting lost in the buzz of the party. People pass by—some friends, some classmates, a few faces you barely recognize. Heidi stops for a second to greet you before heading off with Nichole. Tolkien and Clyde walk by, Clyde already looking a little drunk as he waves dramatically in your direction. One of Damien’s friends calls out to him, making a joke you don’t quite catch, and Damien just shakes his head, amusement flickering across his face.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, just talking, but at some point, you forget about Kenny entirely. At least, until you see him. Across the room, just past a break in the crowd, Kenny stands near the staircase, one arm draped lazily around Tammy Warner’s shoulders, his fingers brushing the strap of her top. She’s pressed close to him, talking into his ear, laughing at something he just said. His expression is relaxed, easy, like he’s not thinking about anything at all.

Then, as if sensing it, Kenny’s head tilts slightly, his gaze drifting, and his eyes find yours. The noise of the party fades into the background.

For a second—just a second—you and Kenny look at each other. You don’t know what’s written all over your face, but whatever it is, it’s enough to make Kenny pause. His fingers still against Tammy’s shoulder, his posture straightens just slightly, and for a moment, his smirk fades. Then, deliberately, his hand slides further down Tammy’s back.

And before you can even process it—before you can even breathe—he turns, leans in, and kisses her.

Heat creeps up your neck so fast it’s suffocating, your fingers gripping your cup so tightly you almost crush it. You feel stupid—so, so stupid—because why does this matter? Why are you reacting like this? This isn’t new. Kenny does this. He hooks up, he flirts, he moves on. You knew that. You know that.

And yet, you’re standing here, watching his lips move against someone else’s, and it feels like your entire body is burning from the inside out.

You whip around, turning to Damien so fast it makes you dizzy. “Did you know flamingos are pink because of their diet?”

Damien barely reacts, just raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You nod way too fast, your words spilling out in an unhinged, desperate rush. “Yeah! It’s because they eat shrimp. Without it, they’d be, like, gray or something. Which is crazy, right?”

Damien blinks at you, unimpressed. “Are you okay?”

“Totally!” you say, too loudly. You force a laugh that sounds completely unnatural. “Just, uh—random fact. Thought you’d like it.”

Damien doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you, expression neutral, before glancing over your shoulder—right toward Kenny.

Your chest tightens, and guilt starts to boil under your skin, heavy and uncomfortable. You feel caught, like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, but you don’t even know what. You shift slightly, fingers gripping the strap of your bag, trying to ground yourself. Your thoughts are moving too fast, spiraling in directions you don’t want them to go.

You force yourself to breathe, shaking your head. “I’m just concerned for Kenny,” you say, clearing your throat. “He hasn’t been acting normally lately.”

Damien tilts his head slightly, his sharp eyes flickering over your face like he’s measuring the weight of your words. He doesn’t react immediately, just takes a slow breath before nodding once. “Why don’t you go talk to him, then?” His voice is smooth, steady, but there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach twist. “I’ll still be around. You can find me later.”

The way he says it feels off. It’s a suggestion, but the way his words land makes it feel more like a decision that’s already been made for you. His tone isn’t upset, not annoyed or demanding, just settled, like he already knows what you’re going to do. You stare at him for a second longer, searching for something in his face, but Damien’s expression doesn’t change. He’s completely at ease, waiting for you to decide what he already expects.

You swallow the strange feeling creeping up your throat and force a weak smile. “Yeah. I’ll do that. Then I’ll come find you.”

Damien watches you for another beat before nodding. Then, without another word, he turns and disappears into the crowd, slipping back into the party effortlessly.

You stand there for a moment, letting out a slow breath before turning toward the staircase. Kenny isn’t there anymore. The uneasy feeling in your stomach tightens. He had been right in front of you, and now he’s just gone. You scan the room, moving your gaze through the party, searching for any sign of him.

The kitchen is packed, but he’s not there. The couch is crowded with people already too drunk to care about anything, and he’s not there either. The music is loud, rattling through the walls, but none of it distracts you from the fact that you’re actively looking for him now. It’s stupid, but your feet are already moving, guiding you through the crowd, brushing past familiar faces, nodding absently when someone greets you.

Finally, you spot him. Kenny is near the bottom of the staircase again, leaning against the railing, one hand in the pocket of his parka. He’s talking to someone, his head tilted slightly, his posture relaxed, but his eyes look distant, unfocused, like he isn’t really invested in the conversation. Tammy is still nearby, lingering close, her body angled toward him, but she’s not the focus of his attention anymore.

Before you can think too hard about it, you walk up to him, brushing your fingers against his arm lightly to get his attention.

“Hey.”

Kenny’s head lifts slightly, and the second his eyes meet yours, something flickers across his face. His expression shifts, like he wasn’t expecting to see you standing there, but he covers it quickly, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Hey, look who it is,” he says, his voice smooth but carrying something beneath it. “Thought you’d be busy with your boyfriend.”

Your stomach tightens at the way he says it, like the words taste bitter in his mouth. You glance at Tammy briefly, feeling her eyes on you, then turn back to him.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say, crossing your arms.

Kenny huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t hold any humor. “Sure.”

You shift slightly, the energy between you feeling heavier than you expected. “Can we talk?”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, his smirk not faltering. “We are talking.”

You exhale sharply, already irritated. “Alone.”

For a second, something in his expression hardens, like he’s debating whether or not to go along with this. He doesn’t move immediately, just watches you, his lips parting slightly before he exhales through his nose and turns to Tammy.

“I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Tammy doesn’t look offended. If anything, she looks mildly entertained, like she already knew Kenny wasn’t fully paying attention to her. She smiles, shrugging. “Sure thing, Ken.”

She disappears into the crowd, and now it’s just you and Kenny, the noise of the party buzzing around you, the air thick with alcohol and the lingering smell of weed. Kenny shifts his weight slightly, his hands back in his pockets as he watches you closely.

“So?” he says, tilting his head slightly. “What’s so important?”

His voice is easy, casual, but there’s an edge to it, something just beneath the surface that makes your stomach tighten. You cross your arms over your chest, feeling suddenly exposed, too aware of the space between you, the way his eyes are fixed on you like he’s waiting to see where you’re going with this. Your thighs press together instinctively, grounding yourself, but it doesn’t help much. You bite your lip, debating in your head, your thoughts running too fast.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you are reading too much into things. Maybe Kenny is just being Kenny, and you’re standing here, making a big deal out of nothing.

But if it’s nothing, why does it feel so different?

You blink at him, inhaling slowly before finally speaking, your voice softer than you intended.

“I missed you.” The words slip out before you can second-guess them, and immediately, you see Kenny’s expression shift. His smirk twitches slightly at the corner, like he doesn’t know if he should keep up the act or actually take you seriously. His fingers flex in his pockets, but he doesn’t move.

You exhale, shifting slightly. “Are you okay?” Your voice is sincere, searching. “I just—I don’t know. I feel like you’ve been acting off lately. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it.”

Kenny exhales through his nose, tilting his head back slightly like he’s thinking about how to respond. His jaw tenses for a second before he finally looks back at you.

“Missed me, huh?” His voice is lower, quieter, but it’s not teasing.

Your fingers tighten slightly against your arms. “Of course I did.”

Kenny watches you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, scanning. His usual cocky, lazy confidence seems to waver, just for a second, before he exhales and shifts his weight.

“I’m fine,” he says finally, his voice steady but missing that usual bite.

You frown slightly. “Are you?”

Kenny clicks his tongue, his smirk twitching back into place. “Nah, you’re probably just reading too much into it,” he says, throwing your own words back at you. It should feel playful, like he’s messing with you, like normal. But it doesn’t.

You frown slightly, watching him for a moment, but you push it down. Instead, you stand up a little straighter, forcing a weak smile onto your lips. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you are overthinking it. If he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. You don’t want to push him if he doesn’t want to talk, so you just nod.

“Well,” you say, exhaling slowly. “I’m glad nothing’s wrong.”

You reach out before you can second-guess it, tugging lightly on the fabric of his parka, just enough to make him sway a little. It’s familiar, instinctive, the way you’ve always teased him when you wanted his attention.

Kenny glances down at where your fingers pull at his coat before looking back up at you, one eyebrow raising slightly.

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “So. You and Tammy, huh?”

His smirk twitches, but the way he shifts slightly, the way his fingers flex in his pockets, makes something tighten in your chest. It’s so small, barely noticeable, but you see it.

Kenny scoffs, shaking his head. “You say that like we’re getting married or some shit.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

He shrugs, glancing away for half a second before looking back at you. “I mean, yeah. She’s fun.”

You hum, rocking back on your heels. “Fun, huh?”

Kenny huffs a quiet laugh. “Why? You jealous?”

Your stomach clenches before you can stop it, but you keep your expression neutral. “Why would I be jealous?”

Kenny tilts his head, studying your face. His smirk is still there, but it doesn’t feel as sharp as before.

“I dunno,” he says finally, voice lazy. “Just askin’.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “Well, I’m not. If you like her, then great. I just didn’t think she was your type.”

Kenny’s smirk lingers, but there’s something different behind his eyes now. “Yeah?” His voice is quieter, his head tilting slightly. “And what is my type?”

You pause, caught off guard. “I mean…” You hesitate, thinking. “I don’t know. Just… not her.”

Kenny watches you for a beat before clicking his tongue again, the smirk deepening. “Huh.”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, but the look on his face makes your stomach flip.

Before you can say anything else, someone calls his name from across the room. Kenny glances over his shoulder, exhaling sharply before looking back at you.

“Guess I should get back to my type,” he says, his smirk curling at the edges.

You blink at him, wide-eyed, something in your chest tightening. He’s turning away, about to disappear back into the party, and for some reason, the thought of that makes panic rise in your throat. You don’t want him to leave. Not yet. Not when it finally feels like you have him back, even just a little, after days of distance and weirdness.

The words come out before you can stop them. “Do you wanna ditch?”

Kenny pauses, glancing back at you, brow arching slightly. His expression flickers with curiosity, the smirk still lingering, but there’s something else there now, like consideration.

You swallow, shifting on your feet. “I mean—like, go for a drive or something? Just us?” You rub your arms, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “I don’t know. I kinda just wanna get out of here for a bit.”

For a second, he just looks at you, like he’s weighing his options. The party is still loud around you, people shouting, music pulsing through the walls, laughter breaking through the chaos. Tammy is somewhere in that mess, waiting for him to come back.

Then, Kenny exhales through his nose, his features relaxing. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Relief floods through you so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. You nod, grabbing his wrist lightly, tugging him toward the door before either of you can change your mind. Kenny follows easily, his stride matching yours, his body warm where your fingers wrap around his skin. Neither of you look back.

By the time you push out the front door, the cold night air bites at your skin, sharp and crisp compared to the stuffy heat of the party. The front yard is still packed with people, but the noise is muffled now, distant as you make your way down the driveway.

Kenny reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys and tossing them into the air before catching them effortlessly. “Alright, princess,” he says, glancing at you as you head toward his truck. “Where to?”

You chew your lip, thinking. “I don’t know. Just drive.”

Kenny huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, alright. Just don’t start bitching if we end up in the middle of nowhere.”

You smile, climbing into the passenger seat. “No promises.”

Kenny smirks, starting the engine. The low rumble of the truck hums beneath you as he pulls out onto the road, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. The party fades into the distance, swallowed by the night.

For a while, neither of you say anything. The only sounds are the steady purr of the engine, the occasional rustle of the trees as the wind picks up, and the faint hum of the radio playing some old rock song under Kenny’s breath. You watch the road, the way the headlights cut through the darkness, the lines on the pavement stretching endlessly ahead.

You don’t know why you needed to leave.There was no real reason to grab Kenny, to pull him away from the party, to make up an excuse about just wanting to drive. But the second you saw him walking away, something in you panicked. It didn’t feel right to let him go, not when things between you had been so weird lately, not when it finally felt like you had his attention again.

That’s all it is, you tell yourself. You just missed him.

Things had been off, and you hated it. Kenny had been your best friend for years, and you were just trying to fix whatever weird distance had settled between you. That’s all this was.

You glance at him, taking in the way he drives so effortlessly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily against his thigh. He looks relaxed, his posture easy.

You chew your lip before finally speaking. “Sorry if I’m being clingy.”

Kenny’s fingers flex slightly against the steering wheel. He doesn’t glance at you right away, just lets out a short exhale, like he’s thinking about his answer. “You’re not,” he says finally.

You huff a quiet laugh, shifting in your seat. “I kinda am.”

Kenny finally looks at you, just for a second, before turning his attention back to the road. His lips twitch, like he wants to smirk but doesn’t quite get there. “Yeah. Maybe a little.”

You groan, dropping your head back against the seat. “Wow. So reassuring.”

Kenny chuckles, the sound low, amused. “Hey, you said it.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, smoothing it out over your thighs before glancing at Kenny. “We can just tell the guys that I wasn’t feeling well,” you say, your voice casual. “And you, being the oh so gracious friend that you are, took me home.”

Kenny lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, yeah. Gracious. That’s me.” He drums his fingers lazily against the wheel. “You really think they’re gonna buy that?”

You shrug. “I mean, it’s not technically a lie.”

Kenny raises an eyebrow, throwing you a sideways glance. “You weren’t feeling well?”

You hesitate, shifting slightly in your seat. “I mean…” You chew your lip, exhaling. “Not really.”

Kenny hums, tilting his head slightly. “Because of the party? Or because of him?”

You stiffen, fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt. “Who?”

Kenny huffs a laugh. “Yeah, alright.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I just didn’t feel like being there anymore. That’s all.”

Kenny nods slowly, tapping his fingers against the wheel again. “Well, whatever you say, princess.”

You groan, pushing your shoulder against his arm. “Stop calling me that.”

Kenny chuckles but doesn’t respond, just keeps his focus on the road. The quiet settles between you again, but it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable, familiar in a way that makes you feel like you made the right decision in pulling him away from the party. You don’t ask where he’s going. You don’t really care.

event masterlist | part two | part three

[newtthetranswriter]

Okay, so of course this is a giulio gandini request because no one has been writing about him yet, but I NEED him now, so.. 👀

(Sry if these are a bit corny, I'm a sucker for tooth rotting fluff!!)

‼️*SMALL MHA YOUR NEXT SPOILERS*‼️

So maybe a gaming one where the reader kinda teaches him how, baking with him, or you know how thought the movie he is basically telling us that he is alone and Anna saved him?? Well, they save Anna, so they don't talk as much as they used to. Then, one day, he runs into reader and it's like the "I'd thought I'd never love again, until I found her" yk??

(Sry, Ik this is long, i just love him, sm!!😫🥹)

Word Count: 2370

Paring: Giulio Gandini x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, Spoilers for My Hero Academia: You’re Next, Slight Spoilers for the My Hero Manga (nothing huge just talk about the clean up efforts), Ooc Giulio (As far as I know this is the first Giulio fic so I don;t know how others write for him and it might be a little off nothing to bad though)

A/n: Hello anon. Thank you so much for the Request. I hope this meets your expectations, as Giulio might be a little ooc, but I am happy with how this turned out. Also I went with gender neutral pronouns, i hope that's okay, it only mentioned like once though. Anyways enjoy, remember requests are open, and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   Living in the U.A. shelter was not how I expected my spring to go, but alas with the war between Villains and Heroes reaching its turning point there wasn’t any other option. Though unlike most of the refugees staying in U.A., I was brought here after I helped take down Dark Might. I was working alongside my close friend Giulio to locate and kill his boss Miss Anna, who had been kidnapped by the Gullini family, when we ran into the students of Class A. After the battle to take out the crime family, the three of us were offered shelter within U.A. in case friends of the Gullinis tried to come after us. 

   We were each given rooms within the many U.A Dormitories where the students normally stayed. Luckily we had ended up in the same building and we’re able to spend our time together. Even though the state of the world isn’t great, we have been settling nicely into our temporary life. Most days are spent talking and trying to ignore the growing threat of villains, or walking around the shelter and learning about the campus we currently call home.

   It’s usually all of us who go on these walks but every now and then Anna doesn’t join, leaving me and Giulio to explore on our own. At first the days where it was just the two of us reminded me of the time we spent tracking down Anna, but slowly things started to feel different. 

   Slowly our walks went from having long discussions about what we wanted to do once we were able to leave U.A. to Giulio just walking along with me in silence as I rambled on about whatever thought came to mind. At first I thought he might have just been tired and didn’t have much thought to add that day, but slowly he started acting like I was speaking to him even when we were back in the dormitories. Again I wrote it off as him being tired and tried to act like it wasn’t affecting me.

   After a few days of him acting like I wasn’t there, I began to worry that I might have done something to upset him. The fear of having upset him was only cemented when I asked if want to join me for a walk and he just walked away like I hadn’t said anything. I stood frozen, searching through recent memory of anything that I may have done that could possibly have upset Giulio, but nothing seemed to stand out.

   My train of thought was interrupted by Anna waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked quickly before nodding at her to acknowledge that I was paying attention. “What was that about? I’ve never seen Giulio act like that, especially when it comes to you.” She asked, having also noticed our friend’s weird behavior. 

   I shrugged at the blonde before responding. “I have no clue. He’s been acting weird the past few days and I can’t figure out why.” I explained. 

   Anna turned to watch as the red head began making himself some tea, before speaking again. “Maybe he’s just tired? We have been through a lot these past couple weeks and he got his replacement leg the other day so he probably just wants to relax a bit. You know how Giulio can be, since everything happened he has been one for big crowds and stuff like that.” She suggested.

    Her reasoning made sense but I couldn’t stop thinking that it had something to do with me. “You’re probably right, I can’t imagine it’s easy to adjust to a new limb.” I told her, not voicing my internal worries. “I’m just going to head back to my room, now that I think about it. I borrowed some books from the school, so I’ll just read for the day.” I explained moving to head to the elevator.

    “Well, okay, enjoy your books. I’m sure Giulio will be easier to talk to tomorrow.” Anna said waving goodbye as the elevator closed behind me.

Time Skip

    That was over a week ago. Not once has Giulio spoken to me in that time. I had tried multiple times to get him to talk to me, but every time I tried he either walked away or just acted like I hadn’t even spoken. Every time he ignored me, I brushed it off telling myself that he was just tired or he hadn’t heard me. 

    Unfortunately, I was forced to face the truth in the worst way. I had just entered the common room of the dorm building, when I heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen area.

    “I already told you, it’s easier this way.” The first voice was clearly Giulio, and he sounded irritated.

    I silently moved to be standing closer to the kitchen but still out of sight and waited to hear what else was being said. “You can’t just stop talking to them, Giulio. You need to explain yourself at least.” That was Anna, and from how exasperated she sounded, I could tell this wasn’t the first time they have had this conversation.

    The responding sigh was a tell tale sign that Giulio was tired of the conversation. “And tell me Anna how exactly am I supposed to Y/n that I don’t want to be friends anymore?” After hearing that one question I knew it was over, I had lost one of my long time friends and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t wait to hear the blonde's response before running out of the dorm building.

    Knowing now that Giulio was ignoring me because he was done with our friendship hurt worse than any injury I could receive from a villain. I had been the one to save him from the burning rubble of the Scervino house after the Gullinis attacked and I helped him recover quickly so he could find Anna. We had been through so much together, but I guess all good things come to an end. I just wish he could have told me before he stole my heart.

   After leaving the dorms I made my way to the staff offices within the U.A. school building. Once I was there I requested to be moved to a different refugee shelter as soon as possible. If Giulio didn’t want to be around me anymore, then he wouldn’t have to. It didn’t take long to get approval and shortly after I returned to the dorm to pack what little belongings I had, a couple Proheroes arrived to help me get to the new shelter safely. When the gates of U.A. closed behind me, I sighed knowing that even if this hurt me it would remove stress from the two people who meant everything to me.

Time Skip to after the Final war arc

    It’s been a few months since I last saw Giulio or Anna. The war with the villains had ended and many parts of Japan were quickly being rebuilt with the help of the Proheroes. While many of the refugees from the various shelters returned to what was left of their old lives and began rebuilding, I decided to start over. I had left my old life the day I left Giulio and Anna at U.A. so I saw no point in leaving Japan. 

   It was difficult to find work but I eventually found a job at a small convenience store that had narrowly survived the country wide battle. It wasn’t much but the owner also allowed me to rent out the small apartment that was over the shop for a discounted rate. Slowly but surely I was making a place for myself. Eventually I even stopped wondering what Giulio and Anna were up to, I started truly accepting that the part of my life was in the past.

  At least it was in the past. It was brought back to front of my mind when a familiar head of red hair walked into the store. At first I thought I was imagining things, that maybe I hadn’t really gotten over it all like I thought. But as soon as I saw his metal hand, I knew I wasn’t just seeing things. Before I could duck behind the counter and act like I wasn’t there, he turned his head in my direction and I watched as what I could only describe as joy washed over his face.

  Sure I had seen Giulio smile before but it was never directed at me. Plus with the way he treated me last time I saw him, why on earth would he be happy to see me of all people. Thinking quickly I decided to act like I hadn’t recognized him. “Welcome in, is there anything I can help you find?” I asked plastering on my fakest smile, trying to hide the conflicted thoughts rushing through my head.

  I then watched as Giulio took a moment to process what I said, confusion replacing the smile that was there a second ago. “Don’t play stupid with me Y/n. We’ve been looking for you for months.” He said approaching the counter. “I also saw the way you looked at me when I walked in so don’t even bother trying to act like you don’t know me or what I’m talking about. Now mind telling me why you ran off and where you’ve been these past couple months.” It wasn’t a question, Giulio wanted answers and he was determined to get them.

   Rolling my eyes I leaned against the wall behind the counter. “Why do you care? Last time I checked you weren’t talking to me.” I responded, the hurt from before turned to anger now that he was actually willing to have a conversation with me. “What was it you said to Anna that day? Oh yeah it was ‘how exactly am I supposed to Y/n that I don’t want to be friends anymore?’. Don’t come in here acting like you care when you were the one who wanted to end our friendship.” I answered, revealing that I had heard their ‘secret’ conversation.

  Giulio stood in shock at my response. He wasn’t expecting such a harsh reply to his simple question. “Wait, you heard that?” He asked, sounding slightly panicked. I only nodded in response. “Did you hear the rest of that conversation?” He continued.

   “No Giulio, I didn’t. Why would I stay and listen to the guy I thought was my best friend tell our friend that he was done with me? Honestly, had you told me you didn’t want to be friends anymore instead of ignoring me, I might not be upset right now.” I said not understanding why he thinks anyone would want to hear their friend talk bad about them.

   Giulio sighed, he glanced around the room as if searching for the right words to say. I just watched him confused, it was not like it was a secret anymore he could just tell me the truth and be done. “I think you should have stayed and listened to the rest of that conversation.” He finally started. I was about to respond but he beat me to it. “It wasn’t that I wanted our friendship to end. It’s more the opposite actually.” He said looking down at the floor, his bangs falling to block his face from view. “I was confused about my feelings. For so long I thought I had feelings for Anna, that once she was safe from the toll her quirk put on her we would be together. But then you saved after the Gullinis took Anna, and you stuck with me the entire time after. Even when I tried to push you away, you stuck by my side promising to help me complete my mission.” I stood silent as began to explain himself. “Then even after Anna was saved and we were allowed to stay at U.A. I thought things would go the way I originally thought. But the more time I spent with just you in nonlife threatening situations, the more I realized what I really wanted.” 

   He paused for another moment, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath like he was preparing for something big. “ I thought for the longest time I wouldn’t fall in love, and then I met you and you didn’t judge me for my goal or turn your back on me when I was difficult. Y/n, I know I was childish and hurt you but if you’ll allow, I’d be honored to spend forever making it up to you.” Giulio finished as he finally looked me in the eye. It was my turn to freeze again. Of all the things I expected for him to say to me, that was not it.

    I blinked a couple of times trying to fully grasp what he meant. After what felt like hours of silence I finally responded. “You’re right, you were childish and you did hurt me. But I was also childish by running away before talking things out. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and left without saying anything to you or Anna.” I paused to breathe for a second before truly smiling at him. “And Giulio, you can start making it up to me by taking me to dinner tomorrow.” I finished.

   Giulio returned the smile, nodding in confirmation. “As you wish.” He said with a slight bow, earning a chuckle from me.

    “Good, now I have to get back to work. You can pick me up here at 8.” I said while grabbing a pen and piece of paper. Quickly scribbling my new phone number down. “And here’s my new number since you’ve probably already guessed I changed phones after I left.” I finished handing him the paper. 

     He quickly accepted it, nodding one last time. “Of course I will see you tomorrow Y/n.” With that he turned and left the store. 

    As I watched him walk away I couldn’t help but wonder what would have been different if I had stayed and listened to the end of that conversation all those months ago.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

[angelsheartts]

hiii idk if requests are open so either have this as a silly little thought or a request <33

lucifer and (ideally gn/male) reader have been flirting for a little while and then one day lucifer finally asks reader out, but they reject him

he’s super confused thinking he may have misunderstood their whole dynamic until he overhears reader telling someone at the hotel the reason he rejected lucifer is because reader feels like lucifer would never be able to love them as much as he loved lilith/doesnt want lucifer to use them as a rebound

overall i was hoping for hurt/comfort but whatever rows your boat, love your stories and i hope to see more of them in the future !! have an amazing day <3

.° ༘ THE OTHER WOMAN ᝰ.ᐟ .

#pairing: lucifer, x gn reader.

#cw: angst, fear of being the second choice, lucifers backstory with lilith, starting something new, accepting that relationships come to an end, happy ending 'cause im not that mean hehe (at least not yet).

#note: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM, i haven’t wrote any angst in my blog BUUUT i love it, this request is mwuah.

everyone at the hazbin hotel knew that lucifer had been courting you for the past few months, everyone except you.

or, well, that’s what the sinners at the hotel thought, at least. you obviously knew that the king of hell had been flirting with you, and at the beginning, you almost fell head over heels for him, until indecisive thoughts started to fill your head.

"was he REALLY flirting with you?", "why would he still be wearing his WEDDING ring if he had been flirting with you?", "will he ever LOVE you like he loved lilith?", "will his daughter even ACCEPT your relationship?"

as soon as those thoughts started appearing, you started distancing yourself from the fallen angel, sadly for lucifer he had already started to get the courage to officially ask you out on a date.

the king of hell wasn’t an idiot; he noticed how you started to make up excuses to not talk to him alone or how you weren’t really responding to his flirting anymore, but decided to be stubborn and brush those thoughts off.

-

as soon as you received a text from lucifer saying he would pick you up around eight, you knew he was planning something, and as soon as you saw him all dressed up, nicely done hair and his prideful smile showing on his face, you knew what was coming, but who were you to not appreciate his efforts? if you knew that it was going to end someday, why wouldn’t you enjoy the moment? yes, you were being a fool for accepting his offer, but having a tiny crush on him wouldn’t hurt you, right?

after having a nice and really luxurious meal at a restaurant in hell, lucifer guided you to an actually peaceful spot where you could see all of the pride ring. ironic. who would even think that hell has a peaceful place, one where you should feel relieved, but why weren’t you feeling that way? was it because you knew what was to come?

"(name), is everything alright?" lucifer interrupted your thoughts with his angelic voice, or could you say demonic? at the end of the day, he was still an angel, just a fallen one. "mmh? yeah, i was just..lost in my thoughts i guess" you answered, admiring his glowing red eyes shining in the dark. "oh, okay" he said, letting a nervous laugh come out. "i think there is something i need to tell you, (name)" lucifer said, this time his voice had a serious tone. "i thought that after lilith I couldn’t get to love again, but heavens was i wrong. i had the chance to get to know you this past months, and…you've changed my life in that short time." he started, giving a sincere smile "would you want to be my partner?" he asked, fidgeting with his fingers as you stared at him.

oh, well, that question made you nauseous. "i-, i don’t think i want that, lucifer" ouch, that hurt his pride."I think it’s time for me to go, i’m sorry" you said in a quiet tone, standing up and leaving him there, and as much as you didn’t wanted to look back, you did, but the only thing you could see was lucifer in the same position as when you stood, this time though, he was hugging his knees staring at the view you both were looking at just a few minutes ago.

-

since his confession about his feelings towards you, he hasn’t been in the hotel, and the cast started to suspect that it has to do with the date you had with him. charlie was the most preoccupied, since she had been the one to encourage his dad to finally ask you out. she tried texting his dad to ask him about your response, but the king of hell just responded with a "it didn’t go as planned, but don’t worry about it, char-char."

after that text charlie obviously knew that his father was feeling bad about whatever happened that night, and would isolate himself from the others, so for her attempts to not let that happened she kind of tricked you into visiting him, she asked you about the date, and since you kind of lied to her by telling her that the date went as normal as a date should go, she then answered by saying something along the lines of "if that’s so, would you mind reminding him that he needs to come to the hotel?"

you could write lucifer a text message telling him to come to the hotel, but since you literally ran away that night, you forgot that your cellphone was laying somewhere near to where you both were sitting, so yeah, you did in fact lost it.

-

going to his mansion was a really weird feeling, what can you even say after rejecting someone? would he even open the door? as you were lost in your thoughts again, you heard the front door open, and as you made your way into his house it wasn’t really hard to find his bedroom.

as you knocked before opening the door, the first thing you noticed was how lucifer had his bedsheet covering him, it made you smile since you noticed how charlie did that too, so you could guess she got that from her father.

there was a silence as you both stared at eachother, until lucifer decided to interrupt the silence. "i-, i-i’m sorry about what happened, i think i might had misunderstood our relationship" he confessed, his messy hair and dark eye bags made you worried "it’s okay lucifer, and about that night..there is still something i haven’t told you about my answer" you declared, making him look at you with such hopeful eyes, oh hell, how can such a prideful fallen angel have so much faith in what you were going to say. "i said I didn’t want to take it further, since i still believe your heart belongs to lilith, and because of that i thought that rejecting you would be the best option." he opened his eyes at the mention of his past lover. "but, me and lilith haven’t been dating since seven years, (name) what me and her had is long gone" he reassured you, while signaling you to sit on his bed, the king bed who looked so comfy yet so empty. "lilith still is an important person in my heart, she has been with me since beginning of humanity and is the mother of my daughter, but the persons who’s my heart belongs now is you, my love" after hearing those words you could feel your eyes fill with tears, of course lilith was gonna be an important person in his life, but why would that stopped you from being in his heart as well, were you being selfish all this time? wanting to be the only person who’s important to him?

"and, this time i haven’t been at the hotel, i thought about why you said no, and i think i may have noticed something" he said, getting out of his bedsheets and caressing your face, you could feel your face burn at his touch, yeah, you really have missed him, "you were always staring at my wedding ring, weren’t you?" he asked looking at you with a glum face, yes, you do recall looking at his wedding ring while he looked at you with loving eyes, the ring that made you doubt so much about his feelings towards you, "i was a fool for wearing my ring while flirting with you, and if my ring has made you have those doubts about our relationship, you should know that i had decided to take it off" after hearing those words, you noticed that he was right, you haven’t noticed until now, you didn’t feel that cold ring against your face. "and if you still willing to try, i’m sure that soon enough i will be using a ring who will be showing who my heart really belongs to"

"that’s so cheesy" you answered chuckling, you tried to jokingly ignore the fact that he just said he would propose you, because if you took it serious you were sure that your face would be as red as the famous apple, actually, you were sure that if he offered you the 'fruit' you would have accepted, wait, were you even thinking about a fruit? but anyways your angel needed reassurance from you, that in fact, you liked his cheesy words. "yes, i still want to have you in my afterlife, lucifer" "well, if that’s my future’s wife/husband wish, then, who am i to object?" the fallen angel winked at you before starting to teasingly kiss your whole face, the moment he started doing this, you noticed something you didn’t thought you could, you felt like his first option, not just a rebound.

and yes , it will be a long journey until he really overcomes his past relationship with lilith, but since he's willing to do as much for you as you would do for him, you both will soon overcome your fears of past experiences.

[purpleph4se]

nsft alphabet - hwei

lukai hwei x reader

warnings | smut, afab!reader, switchy hwei

a/n | can i say how cute he looks in this gif omg i love him sm. but um hello again ykw back again with the most random shit ever. tryna get back to writing slowly but surely, the nsft alphabet is just to dip my toes back into writing since i’ve haven’t i so long. so i got into league of legends which i hate myself for but now im obsessed. i started playing lol for jhin but when hwei came out i was done for. as always enjoy my nonsense.

A - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- oh he’s so soft and gentle. doesn’t matter if he was on top or bottom he would just want to lay with you after, he’s absolutely mesmerized by the afterglow, especially how it looks on you. just wants to hold you close, taking every emotion in. 

B - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- on you - he could never pick one thing he likes about you just because he simply loves all of you. might sound corny but he loves how you make him feel more than anything, he loves loving you. 

- on him - his hands i think. he’s not self absorbed, but his hands are what help him create his art so he keeps them nice and pretty without really realizing. also he can’t help but melt when you kiss his hands at any moment. and he enjoys the sounds he can pull out of you with just his hands.

C - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- loves to cum inside of you. i feel like it's not even in a possessive manner but he feels more intimate and closer to you. like he’s literally part of you now. likes to cockwarm you after. gets extremely embarrassed seeing it drip out after and offers to clean it up for you  <3

D - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- oh to be tied up and at your mercy. the desire of being roped and gagged, laid down on the bed and at your utter mercy as begging you with his gaze to straddle his hips and use his cock to your heart's content. he needs you to take your pleasure from him, to use his body to make yourself feel good, while he whines into his gag. 

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- little to none i feel. he has had crushes before and small flings (jhin) with partners but it never went far enough especially after the incident. but once it does happen i think he’d take it real slow, to really get to know what he likes and what his partner does, super gentle but quickly learns. 

F - fave position (this goes without saying)

- visual link (nsfw!) = 1 2

- missionary or cowgirl, just any position where he can see your face. he just adores being able to look into your eyes. it just makes it all the more intimate. his arms are wrapped around your torso, your chest pressed up against his as he sloppily thrusts into you, wantonly moaning into the curve of your neck. gets so desperate that not even fucking you properly, just grinding himself into you. loves being able to kiss you and swallowing your sweet noises and vice versa. would live in your skin if he could,,

G - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous?)

- i wouldn’t say he would make jokes but he’s able to laugh something off and he wouldn’t be bothered if something embarrassing happened. 

H - hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes?)

- not super hairy, the hair he does have is sparse and thin. hes quite bare actually, does do a little self grooming to keep himself neat.

I - intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- so so intimate!!! he doesn’t call it sex or fucking it’s ~lovemaking~ in his book. his main turn on is to show how much he loves you and loves sharing pleasure with you. spoils you from head to toe with adoring kisses, fingers painting the shape of your body as they worship each groove, curve, and imperfection—he whispers quiet praise. to hwei, you are the most precious thing in his life, and he needs you to understand that fact to the very depths of your soul.

J - jerk off (masturbation headcanon) 

- yes and no. my depraved mind is telling me yes, bc i’m just imagining him desperately humping a pillow while whining out your name. but also realistically, he might just be too caught up in his own mind to even think about it, especially if he already has you to take care of him. 

K - kinks (one or more of their kinks)

- praise - he lives to praise you. telling you that he loves you, nudging his face into your neck and moaning, “you’re so beautiful, my love”. and he also thrives off of attention from you, too. poor boy is not used to hearing praise, so when you first tell him, “good boy”, or “you’re perfect”, it sends a shiver down his spine and ensures to pleasure you harder so he can hear it often.

- submission - as well as living to praise you it goes hand in hand with living to serve you. wants to make you feel good at every second of the day, at your beck and call, damn near worships the ground you walk on. (could spend hours in between your legs but i’ll elaborate on that later). but when and if you take control and ~take care of him~ he’s such a good boy and he follows your every command without question. be sure to praise the poor boy to really break him~

L - location (favorite places to do the do)

- his preference is in his own bed or house, where he can be assured that it’s just the two of you and you have all the time in the world together. he’s not really picky about where in your shared home, just as long as he can take his time. however, one days he gets especially desperate for you and he can’t take his time he wouldn’t mind taking you to a secluded little area at koyehn, he’d feel so bad but he cannot deny the thrill of reveling in the desperation.

M - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- he wants to make you happy all the time, and he’s learned there is no greater bliss than coming undone for one another. so just just knowing he’s got the power to make you writhe and sob with pleasure is enough to get him going.

N - nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- would never never hurt you whether it be physically or emotionally, he’d never degrade you or hit you. he cannot bear the thought of hurting you. to hwei, your body is a temple for his reverence and worship—never to be hurt by a violent or cruel hand.

O - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

- hwei prefers giving. not because he doesn’t like receiving it but rather that he just too sensitive (and he’d rather just give you pleasure).

- receiving - he gets rather shy, because of all the noise he makes and just how early and quickly he finishes, often without warning. but of course you don’t mind.

- giving - there’s just something so absolutely beautiful about being able to bring you so much pleasure and listening to your sweet voice rise an octave higher while lapping at your most sensitive parts. he gets so pussydrunk and loves to have you on his tongue for hours. when it comes to skill, he wasn't particularly skilled at going down on you at first. but with a little gentle instruction, hwei now makes your legs tremble and give out with only a few swipes of his talented tongue. sit on his face plz 

P - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

- it could really depend! usually it’s always slow paced and sensual, almost always containing foreplay to worship you. if you ask hwei he can go faster and treat you a little roughly, but he likes to take his time, enjoying the connection of your bodies completely and thoroughly, his every move laced with sensuality and passion. he likes to find that perfect little spot within you and land every hard, deep thrust right against it, making you shiver and curl your toes. however, if he’s feeling particularly desperate….

Q - quickies (their opinions on quickies, how often?)

- on days he’s desperate and especially needy he would actually initiate a quickie, just one look at the vivid pink swirling in his eyes and you know. both of you often have to cover the other’s mouth to muffle any sounds that try to come out. but you do find yourself braced against the wall with your legs around the painter's slim waist fairly often. he walks out with so much shame afterwards tho.

R - risky (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

- pretty open minded, likes to explore with you in the bedroom. he’s always interested in trying different positions or indulging you with different kinks and scenarios. when it comes to risks, hwei would not do anything to harm you physically or any heavy degradation to you. 

S - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- he really strikes me as someone with low stamina. he's usually spent after one round, poor thing! but you are unbothered by it and hweis lack of stamina certainly doesn't stop him from letting you leave the bed unsatisfied. just because he’s too exhausted for one more round, doesn't mean he can't make you cum in other ways~

T - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- now let me think of this realistically in runeterra terms…most likely no, simply because the thought hasn’t crossed his mind before and i don't think vibes would exist. but if they did however! and you told him he’d be very interested to try them with you. and also strap ons particularly piqued his interest! 

U - unfair (how much they like to tease)

- once he gains the confidence he can be a little bit of a tease, but he gives in so easily. just one little pout on your pretty lips has him giving in to you. if he does tease you it’s when he worships you which can sometimes be so long and intense, you actually beg hwei to take you already. but if anything, he loves to be teased and wants you to keep teasing him until he’s sobbing for you. 

V - vocal (how loud are they, what noises do they make)

- whining, whimpering, sobbing the whole nine yards babe. poor boy is always in tears at the end. at first he was so shy about the sounds he makes. he went as far as trying to muffle them by kissing you, or burying his face into your neck, releasing only short whines and whimpers every now and again. as he opened up to you heard how he loses himself in pleasure, his volume rises and his moans and whimpers grow in number and intensity, as well as volume. as he nears his peak, his voice often breaks under the amount of raw bliss. and every single sound that leaves his pretty lips is like angelic music to your ears.

W - wild card (random headcanon for the character)

- CUCK ACTIVITIES!!!!!! this is just my depraved mind speaking but him watching you get absolutely ruined by jhin sends him spiraling, his two favorite things putting on such a pretty show. actually just a threesome with both of them is my personal dream, or let’s reverse it, jhin watching as he orders hwei on how to make you feel~ 

X - x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- hwei genuinely thinks he’s not big, it's kinda adorable. he’s pretty long but not all slender, his cock has a curve upwards when it's stiff and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really needy, he's also got a few visible veins running up the length of it that are even more sensitive than he is. he can’t help the pang of confidence he gets when you lower down on him that first time and he sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust. 

Y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- ranges from standard to low depending how he’s feeling. while hwei enjoys sex, to him it’s only one of the many ways in which he can show his affection towards you. cuddling with you under the covers, opening his heart up to you with hushed whispers in the dead of night—all of these are ways in which hwei reveals his yearning for you.

Z - zzz  (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- it depends! sometimes poor boy is honestly out like a light afterwards, but on other nights he stays up watching you drift off taking the opportunity to trace your body with his hands. admiring the work of art that is you.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Pls do more Clarisse!!!! I love the way you write her!! Maybe something with reader being a child of Aphrodite. Here are some ideas you’re free to choose from! Or none at all

• Reader is told that she’s “not pretty enough to be a child of Aphrodite” and Clarisse finds her crying softly and she comforts her

•Reader tells Clarisse how much she likes to bake and Clarisse makes her bake stuff with her

•Clarisse gets her hair and nails and stuff done bye reader

Thank you!

- colors of your eyes -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Daughter of Aphrodite! Reader

An - I loved these prompts sm UGH 😭😭 so I decided to use them all but I’m twisted some to make more sense

“Stop im serious!” You laughed as clarisse flicked some flour at you. It was your one year anniversary, so the entire day clarisse had been letting you plan out multiple dates for one another thus explaining why her hair was braided back some with flowers in it and her makeup done.

Currently you had made arrangements with Chiron to use the kitchen to bake for a few hours. — Clarisse smiled as you started to playfully wrestle with her having a small flour fight. “Ok ok truce” She chuckled dusting some of the powder off of her. Decided to have the final say however you stood close to clarisse under the assumption that you were going to kiss her. Before your lips connected you placed your thumb on clarisses nose dragging the flour down.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your actions. “Really? No now you owe me a kiss”

“I don’t owe you anything actually” you laughed trying to playfully fight again clarisse as she tried to kiss you. After a few moments though you gave in letting her have what she wanted.

Placing your arms around her neck you leaned back some letting her have more control over the kiss. Giggling you started to speak teasing remarks against the girls lips “mm, who knew clarisse was such a hopeless romantic”

Clarisse jokingly pushed you away. “Gods your such a pain in my ass”

“Awww your so cute when your mad” you continued to tease her. The timer for the cookies went off, peeling away from clarisse you went to the oven pulling out the chocolate chip cookies.

Taking them off the tray you set them aside onto a cup. Clarisse walked towards you hugging you from behind. Leaning back into your girlfriend you smiled just enjoying the peace of it all.

Being a demigod you were never allowed to have a normal life let alone have a normal relationship. Finding clarisse you believe was the best thing to happen to you. But being a demigod especially a daughter of Aphrodite didn’t come without its own set of critiques.

“What’s wrong” clarisse questioned squeezing your waist softly. Being brought back to reality you turned around to face her, softly smiling at clarisse you leaned kissing her cheek. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” clarisse looked suspicious but eventually let it go just trusting you.

——

The bondfire continued to be your favorite time of night day after day. Finishing a sing along you kissed clarisses cheek before getting up— heading towards the dining hall for a drink.

Once there you spoke into the goblet saying you wanted your favorite soda, taking a sip you over heard a few girls near by talking.

“I know she’s such a fucking bitch”

“Honestly, like why does clarisse date her, there’s no way that she isn’t desperate, she probably just using her to get to silena”

“Honestly and if I was Aphrodite I would of never claimed such an ugly girl, she doesn’t even deserve to be her daughter”

Your grip on the cup tightened. ForWeeks now you’ve heard the same group of girls talking shit about you. Normally what other people said didn’t matter but them saying you shouldn’t of been claimed by Aphrodite…. That broke the final straw.

Hot tears fell down your face. Holding your head down you silently prayed to stop crying. The emptiness of the dining hall felt even more alone than normal. Maybe they were right. Maybe Aphrodite shouldn’t of claimed you, maybe clarisse really was desperate maybe everything everyone had said really had been true.

“Damn there you are, common the Apollo kids started arguing with the Athena cabin” Clarisse laughed as she walked over. Her hands finding themselves around your waist while she grabbed you from behind.

After a moment she felt your broken yet silent cries. Almost immediately she turned you around, looking down at you with a critical look. “Who.”

“No one, just forget it please” you sniffed. Clarisse however shook her head. “No who made you cry “

You knew she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted but in reality all you wanted right now was for her to comfort you. “Please.. just drop it” practically begging her you leaned into Clarisses warm presence.

Without a second thought clarisse Held you close to her. Gently running a hand up and down your back, she squeezed you ever so slightly. “Common, let’s go to my cabin” she muttered.

—

Laying in clarisses bed you silently faced her. Playing with one of her curls you had a soft smile while clarisse Held you close.

Kissing your forehead she pulled back some. “Can you tell me what happened at least.” She asked.

You stayed quiet. You wanted to be honest with her but what if she agreed with what they all said. “Look whatever it is it won’t change a thing about us.. ok” she lifted your head slowly while giving you a gentle look.

“Some girls. They’ve been saying this for weeks but I over heard them talking about how I’m a bitch or something dumb, they said that you were only dating me because you were desperate and wanting to get closer to silena and.. that I should of never been claimed as Aphrodites daughter”

Clarisse Just leaned down placing a kiss on your lips with a soft giggle. “What’s so funny” you muttered against the girl. Pulling away she continued to laugh. “Nothing nothing it’s just.. that? That’s what they decided to run with”

Confused you shrugged your shoulders. The curly haired girl looked over with a sarcastic smile. “Ok first of all, your not a bitch if anything you to nice, then I had to practically beg silena to help me actually start talking to you, then lastly their just mad that one of the most stunning girls in the camp who is also the daughter of Love is dating me and is in a happy relationship. Everything they said just sounds like bullshit” she continued to laugh.

“Your a jerk” you chuckled gently hitting her. “Yeah but your the one dating me so what does that really say about you” she grinned. Moving to sit on her waist playfully wrestling with the girl. You leaned down giving her a soft kiss. Once it broke you heard clarisse start talking. “Don’t let people like those girls ruin nights for you… you have me, and that’s all that should matter not what they have to say.”

Giving you another kiss clarisse patted your thigh. “All right get lost I’m sick of you”

“I hate you”

“No you don’t”

[lukolabrainrot]

This is going to be long, I am sorry.

So, recent posts, we are all talking about them, assuming things, trying to find 5 differences and all that, but certain comments sparked a thought in me which I would like to share. What if we all are looking into timeline in the wrong way? Now I would need someone with an actual knowledge of how this promo contracts works to confirm or correct or entirely contradict my little theory. Is there a general timeframe in a contract during which L would have been supposed to post about this hotel or is a truly specifically established day? Now hold that thought, I would like to explain why this theory even came into my head and it’s a bit lengthy.

I think we all notices certain patterns and features in behavior of some less pleasant individuals in L close social circle. And even though we don’t have any concrete proof we have some pretty damning evidence that something went wrong post Part 2 premiere and more importantly during the “happiest” Italian gateway in relation to those particular individuals. We can see it clearly in their behavior during and post that, in pictures as well as drastic behavioral pattern changes. Not going to elaborate on this we have all been here during that and there are more than enough of in depth analysis on various platforms, this lovely blog including.

One such evidence which makes me pretty certain that something happened is actually N herself. There were many, many ways to post about her close friends’ birthday, but she specifically chose those pictures and that phrasing. She could have even just post those cute pictures with some other words, but no, she mentioned paparazzi and friends protecting friends. Along with someone mentioning L leaving two days earlier than his friends (not a 100% fact I concur but definitely possible), this makes me believe he truly learned something to shake those relationships, perhaps some kind of betrayal? And we know that N is protective of people in her life, even as just a friend if he shared the situation with her, I can totally see her wishing to throw some shade on people who put in jeopardy her friends’ safety and privacy. (I would have done exactly the same thing) N just coincidentally had a very convenient, easily deniable way to do just that.

Now I truly do believe that likes on SM mean nothing, just from my personal perspective. We also know that L followed and liked J posts on SM for a while even after a break up. This situation though seems different, A is different. I saw someone make a comment that L likes seem almost like a little reminder to A that he still can see what she is doing, we all know SM games she enjoyed playing promoting their supposed intimacy. At that time I dismissed it because it seemed too far fetched, but what if not? I mean, if he finally comprehended her shadiness, as well as some other people’s, what if he finally sees the bigger picture?

And after this essay finally comes my timeline idea. What if it was not A who posted before L, but he who posted after her? Now read that again. When she just posted a day before L, everyone immediately assumed that it looks like Cypress, and that even though she tries to make it look like someone tall is filming her, something didn’t seem quite right, ergo A playing games again. And is it not strange that her first hazy but more or less direct hint at him being in her life still, came after N and L had some interaction on SM (her posting him, and him liking her post for KS), as well as whole JD situation taking attention away from her? What if L saw it and decided to use his promo to clarify any assumptions. “I am in Spain and I am alone,” he connected it to Bridgeton and made sure to emphasize that he is there by himself. This, of course, is just my little theory. The reason I even came up with it is because I never saw similarities in those pictures myself, and I think L expected people to realize that. Which is why he posted another balcony pic after people started commenting on similarities to As’ post, with one towel, one cup, one person. Now I am not trying to be purposely obtuse or in denial, I genuinely do not see anything beyond passing similarities that can be found in many Mediterranean resorts. And if you look closely at the balcony pictures that most seem to be basing their views on, I suggest you look again. Truly. At picture of L in a cap standing in front of balcony with greenery, take some eye measurements. We know he is approximately 185cm high, the greenery is somewhat at his hip area, A is shorter than L but even still that greenery would not be almost reaching her breasts. But as I said, just my opinion, my observation.

.

[goldfades]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 /𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐈'𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 -- / 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝟑𝟎𝟎𝟓 ─ AF³⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested -> "wait i love ur fics!! can i request a one shot of azzi (aka sweet angel whose never done anything wrong in her life) and loud & chaotic!reader who were childhood friends and now have the cutest relationship ever?? like a huge opposites attract thingy where reader is a cheerleader and that popular kid, and brings azzi out of her shell? and maybe the team is a bit suspicious at first but just falls in love with their relationship really quickly"

─ warnings | nothing but sweet, good old fluff!!! literally so adorable, my fav thing i've written in a while. my fav trope! oblivious best friends to obnoxious lovers!! the girls being a little skeptical but slowly also falling in love w/ r because she brings out the best in az, mention of a confession but literally nothing else

─ word count | 1.8k

─ ev's notes | i love my azzi baby and she needs more love!!!!! fuck EVERYBODY who doesn't like her cause babygirl is so unproblematic, she's literally an angel and the heart of uconn so FUCK OFF anyways. also i love all my azzi girls sm i had to feed them too, mwah!!!!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

THERE HAD NEVER been a time when Azzi wasn't by your side.

Since the day you'd met her back in the sixth grade, she was always by your side. There was never a day where you questioned her loyalty or her friendship. Through the ups and downs of adolescence, through the awkwardness of high school, and into the uncertainties of young adulthood, Azzi remained a constant presence in your life.

She always admired everything about you ─ there was never a moment where she was annoyed by your extrovertness or how much you liked to talk, she actually enjoyed it. Azzi was never much of a talker, she was more of a listener so she liked to let you take the lead in conversations, always content to listen to your stories, your dreams, and your worries. She found solace in the rhythm of your voice, in the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you loved.

While you were the outgoing one, always ready to dive headfirst into any adventure, Azzi was the steady presence by your side, offering quiet wisdom and unwavering support. She may not have been the loudest voice in the room, but her presence spoke volumes, grounding you when you felt like you were spinning out of control.

Azzi's strength wasn't just in her ability to be a steadfast companion; it was also in her capacity for understanding. She had a way of seeing beyond the surface, of understanding the complexities of your emotions even when you couldn't understand them yourself.

In her own quiet way, Azzi was the glue that held your relationship together. She didn't need grand gestures or flashy displays of affection to show how much she cared; her loyalty and devotion spoke for themselves.

"Az!" You shouted as you practically threw yourself into her arms. She laughed as she held you close to her chest, her arms wrapping around your body.

As you nestled into Azzi's embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and happiness flood through you. Her laughter was like music to your ears, a melody that resonated deep within your soul.

It was finally summer and that meant it was her favorite time of year ─ spending every second with you. This was the second year you'd been separated because of college, so it wasn't entirely foreign but this year was a little harder than the last. She found herself missing you and thinking about you all the damn time, literally.

You could think of a couple reasons as to why, and one of them is because you'd both had confronted your long-time feelings for each other.

You both had danced around your feelings for each other for far too long, tiptoeing around the truth out of fear of ruining the beautiful friendship you shared. But as time went on, the pull between you grew stronger, until it became impossible to ignore.

The moment of truth came during a late-night conversation at your family's beach house, where words tumbled out in a rush of honesty and vulnerability. Azzi confessed her feelings for you, her heart laid bare for you to see. And to her relief and delight, you felt the same way. It felt like it was out of a movie; everything was perfect, Childish Gambino was playing through the speaker, the air felt just right and the waves whispered secrets in the background.

You pulled out of the hug with a grin as Azzi laughed again, putting her hands on your shoulders. "Damn, you're still short."

"Oh my god, we're still on this?" You let out a sigh, despite the sweet smile on your face. You've known each other since you were kids and still, her favorite thing to tease you about was your height.

And it wasn't even that you were abnormally short ─ she was just tall.

"What! I thought you woulda grown, sorry!" Azzi teased as you grumbled, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Well, you know what they say, good things come in small packages," you retorted with a smirk, earning another laugh from Azzi.

Azzi chuckled, giving you a playful shove. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, shorty."

Before you could respond, Azzi's name was being called from behind her. Azzi turned around to wave toward the group of girls, her teammates and friends from UConn. You'd met them one time before and that was at one of the championship games last year, and meeting them was a stretch ─ you'd waved at them.

As Azzi turned to greet her teammates, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness flutter in your stomach. You remembered the last time you had met them, feeling like a fish out of water among a group of award-winning athletes and accomplished individuals.

"I'm right here, guys," Azzi sighed as her friends walked toward her. "Y/N, this is Aubrey, Aaliyah and Nika. Oh, and Paige,"

Paige sent her a glare toward Azzi but before she could retort, Nika nudged her and smiled politely at you.

"Hi," you smiled as you looked up at Azzi for reassurance. She gave a warm smile as she pulled you closer to her side, squeezing you. "I'm Y/N,"

Azzi had never seen you so nervous, it was almost endearing to see. You'd always been the outgoing one, but in this moment, you seemed almost shy and uncertain. It was a side of you that Azzi hadn't seen often, and it made her heart swell with affection.

"You're even prettier in person," Nika spoke as she smiled. The girls all exchanged glances as Nika realized what she had just said, laughing. "What! I mean, we had to stalk Azzi's girl before we met her, it's just part of the process-"

"My god, Nika," Paige laughed as Azzi squeezed your shoulder.

You blushed under their gazes, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and flattery at Nika's comment. Azzi's gentle squeeze on your shoulder offered reassurance, grounding you in the moment.

"Thanks, you guys too. I'm a stalker too, don't worry. I'm practically your guys' biggest fan," you joked, trying to lighten the mood with a touch of self-deprecation. The tension eased as the group laughed, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

Aubrey grinned. "Well, I guess we're all in good company then."

Aaliyah nodded. "Absolutely. It's always nice to meet a fan."

"Hey, hey. She's actually my biggest fan, cause you know, she's my girlfriend." Azzi cut in as the group laughed. You glanced up at Azzi, your heart practically jumping at the word girlfriend. You were her girlfriend, and it sounded so perfect. You gazed up at Azzi, your eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, everything felt right.

"Absolutely, I have like 20 different jerseys" you chimed in, unable to hide the fondness in your voice as you leaned into Azzi's side.

Azzi laughed as she shook her head. "She's not joking, she probably has more than me."

"I've been collecting them since high school, cause I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was her biggest fan when she makes into the WNBA," you explained, a hint of pride coloring your words. The admiration and support you felt for Azzi were palpable, evident in the way you spoke about her with such reverence and affection.

"Our reservation is for 8 and it's 7:45, we should probably get going," Nika suggested, glancing at her watch.

Azzi nodded, casting a fond glance at you. "Yeah, let's head out."

With a collective agreement, the group began to make their way toward the restaurant, chatting and laughing as they went. Azzi slipped her hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked side by side. With a smile, you squeezed Azzi's hand, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for the amazing woman by your side.

At the restaurant, Azzi had her arm around you as the host led the group to their table. You felt a sense of warmth and comfort in Azzi's embrace, the simple gesture serving as a reminder of the deep connection you shared.

As you settled into your seats, the buzz of conversation continued around you, filled with laughter and shared stories. Azzi leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm so glad you're here with me."

You turned to her, a soft smile playing on your lips as you met her gaze. "Me too," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity.

Throughout the meal, Azzi's hand remained firmly entwined with yours, Azzi was at ease as she kept stealing glances your way, her eyes filled with adoration and affection. It was moments like these that reminded you why your bond with her was so special, why her presence in your life was irreplaceable.

Her friends could tell how absolutely whipped you both were for each other, it was obvious by the way you looked at each other.

They were all skeptical of you in the beginning, your instagram seemed too aesthetic and preppy for their taste, but as they got to know you, they realized there was much more depth to you than what your social media portrayed. You were genuine, kind-hearted, and fiercely loyal to Azzi, qualities that quickly won them over despite their initial reservations.

You brought out the laid-back, extroverted side of Azzi they rarely got to see. It was exciting to see, they loved seeing their girl happy and carefree in your presence. Your genuine affection for Azzi was evident in the way you looked at her, the way you made her laugh, and the way you supported her dreams and ambitions.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself engaged in lively conversation with Azzi's friends, sharing stories and laughter as you got to know each other better. With each passing moment, the initial skepticism faded away, replaced by genuine warmth.

And as you walked out of the restaurant next to Paige and Aubrey, the girls followed with smiles on their faces. Aaliyah pulled Azzi close as she caught her eye, a grin on her face.

"We took it up with the counsel and we approve," Aaliyah whispered as Azzi's face contorted into an amused expression.

"Bro, what do mean the counsel?" She repeated as they glanced toward the girls in front of them, who were now laughing at some joke Paige had made. "But thanks, it means a lot."

"We like her a lot," Nika chimed in, her voice filled with sincerity as she glanced back at you and Azzi walking behind them. "She's good for you, Az."

Azzi's heart swelled with affection for her friends as she wrapped an arm around Aaliyah's shoulders, pulling her into a tight side hug. "Thanks, guys. I'm really happy," she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "That means everything to me."

She was ecstatic that you fit into her life so perfectly (not like she ever doubted your people skills and your charm), and hearing her friends express their approval only confirmed what she already knew deep down: you were the one for her.

As you all walked together, surrounded by the laughter and warmth of her friends, Azzi couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over her.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[rosenclaws]

Hii congrats on 600 followers!!

I was wondering if i could get nr. 12 from the fluff prompts w Leopold?

“I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.”

Much love 💜💜

a/n: Its been a while since I've wrote for Leo!!! I miss him sm. I hope you enjoy this little fluff piece <33. I'm so sorry this took forever but Im finally getting to these ahslfd

wc: 602

600 follower drabble masterlist

It's been years since Leopold found himself in modern day New York. An unbelievable story that sounded absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it. I mean, falling through a time rift? It was outlandish to even think of something like that. But somehow it happened.

He was Alice coming to wonderland, except this time it was all real. He was greatly unhappy back in his time. An Uncle who only cared for money and a looming loveless marriage. He wasn't exactly eager to get back. Kate and Charlie had helped him become acquainted with this world but it wasn't for another couple months that everything really clicked.

It was a random chance, he just happened to have wandered into the library, found himself in a random aisle, and bumped into you. Literally bumped. He was so engrossed in reading that he ran right into you. Making the stack of books in your hand go tumbling to the ground. He apologized profusely, bending down to help you clean when he looked up.

Call it cliché but when he met your eyes something changed. His heart leaped, seeing your adorable smile and kind eyes. You were incredibly kind, telling him that it was alright. He looked like a fool. Not being able to utter a single word as he was taken back by your beauty.

He spotted the name tag, you worked here. He introduced himself and took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he did so. You clamed up, at first he thought he had done something wrong as you squeaked out a thank you and practically ran away from him. He'd learn later that he had just flustered you until you couldn't think.

He kept going back and each time he'd find you there. Flirting with you until the day he finally asked you out. One date turned in to another which turned in to more and more.

In a blink of an eye Leopold life had been forever changed. Instead of the life his uncle wanted he's here. Married to the love of his life and working in a small antique shop. He loves it. He really does. Getting to tinker with oddities and finding homes for trinkets. Coming home to you every night. It was a dream.

"Leo? Are you alright?" He looks up from a book he had found at some shop, an old first edition. Though he really hadn't been reading anything. He must have spent too much time reminiscing. Your apartment was right above his shop so you must have been waiting for him.

"Apologies my darling, I was just thinking." He hums as you walk over and kiss him.

"What were you thinking about?" You ask as you brush his hair back, staring into the gorgeous eyes of your husband.

"It's just, I never thought I’d be so lucky, especially not in this lifetime.” He confesses.

When his parents passed he believed he was doomed to a life that was governed by others. His own happiness was an afterthought. But then he found this time, he found you. Now everything is changed and he sees himself growing old with you. Every day is better than the last.

"You're such a romantic Leo." You say with a smile. He stands up and kisses you gently.

"It's late my love, go to bed I'll be there soon." He hums.

He steals one last kiss before shooing you off. He takes a look around his shop before turning off the light. Ready to spend another night with you in his arms.

He really is the luckiest man alive.

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut.