𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑,
Requested by: @xxkomashiokoxx
Tw: Temporary Character Death, blood & injury, grief / mourning, emotional distress, crying, panic symptoms, gaslighting / memory loss themes, reality confusion, kissing (with tongue), emotional + physical intimacy (non-explicit), mild language / swearing, superhero-themed violence, resurrection themes, feeling isolated / not being believed
Summary: She joined the superhero team just to be near Kenny. When he died on a mission, no one remembered, except her. Grief-stricken and alone, she starts to question reality… until he shows up at her window. Alive. And the fact that she remembered? It changes everything.
A/N: I’m so sorry how long this took to make, writers block hit me like a truck so I literally stayed up all night and wrote the rest of it. I also lost the request so I had to tag who requested it. Anyways enjoy!!
Maybe this was stupid. Maybe joining a team of high school superheroes was the worst idea she'd ever had.
Because now, she was out on the dimly lit streets, fighting this villain, around their age, with tin foil on his head, and he looked an awful lot like Butters Stotch from their class..
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They were all dressed up in costumes, like little kids, or small children on Halloween who go into a corn maze. But now they were fighting for bloodshed and the future of their small town in Colorado?
Originally, she had joined to get closer to Kenny. She had always felt inspired by him. Walking around the school halls with an air of confidence that can only be mustered up by some who didn't care what other people thought.
He completely contrasts with her own personality, it drew her to him, and the fact that they’re opposites made her completely infatuated with him. But that’s what they say about opposites. They attract.
She started staring at him. The small tufts of golden hair hidden under his hood peeked out in the street light. The way his pretty blue eyes focused and filled with concentration. Every move he made was swift, yet calculated.
How he carefully dodged attacks and repelled them back with just as much force. How, despite the dim lighting, he could still see every hit effortlessly. How he—
Suddenly a burst of light erupted in front of her, traveling towards her quicker than she could even blink. It knocked the wind out of her, sending her flying across the so-called ‘battle ground’.
She screwed her eyes tight shut, bracing herself for the impact, but she didn't hit the floor.
Another force, just as quick, just as powerful, engulfed her into its arms. Strong and certain. Sturdy and careful.
Her eyes fluttered and she looked up gently, to be met with those blue eyes that entranced her so much.
His arm gently linked underneath the back of her knees while his other arm supported her back. She gently turned her head up towards her, and blinked up at him, her eyes recovering from the sharp light.
Her face immediately started to flush, heat rising to her cheeks as he looked down at her, intently focusing on her face. Checking her over silently for any injuries, his face etched with concern and worry.
“Oh!” She gently rolled herself out of his arms, hitting the ground with a small thump.
He winced and offered his gloved hand to her, but she had already stood up, embarrassed.
His voice was low, steady, and so close it made her heart leap into her throat.
She nodded too quickly. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Just… wasn’t expecting knocked out by a beam of light just now..”
Mysterion blinked, then smiled slightly. Just a small curve of his mouth. Not smug, not cocky. Just… warm.
“You gotta watch out for Professor Chaos,” he said, glancing toward the street where that blonde-little-suspiciously-familiar-Butters-Stotch-villian was currently making a run for it, yelling about vengeance.
“He’s unpredictable,” Kenny added. “Like most dangerous villains,” He says in his gravely low tone.
It sounds exaggerated. A dangerous villain? With tinfoil on his head? It was laughable. But, he did just knock her down a good 12 meters, so she isn’t really in the position to be judging that..
She let out a nervous laugh, brushing dirt off her knees, heart still pounding. “Thanks, by the way. For catching me.”
He looked at her, serious again. “Don’t mention it.”
The way he said it, quiet, but with that same fierce tone he used when he was shielding a civilian or blocking an attack, it made her throat tighten.
“But next time, keep an eye on the opponent.”
She couldn’t look at him anymore. Her face was too hot.
“Okay,” she whispered, her eyes trained on the ground.
They stood there in silence for a second too long and he gently looked at her, really looked at her. He saw her for who she actually was. Not just this shy anxious girl around other people. That’s why she liked Kenny.
Then the sharp sound of The Coon’s voice barking something over the comms shattered the moment like glass.
That was the beginning. She kept having little moments like that with Kenny. Little moments, where they’d stare into each other's eyes a little too long.
A shared glance across the battlefield. A quiet “You okay..??” muttered just for her ears. The way he’d nudge her arm with his when no one was looking, like his own subtle version of comfort.
She never got the courage to tell him how she felt. Not really. But sometimes, she wondered if he already knew.
And then came the mission.
The one where Southpark’s Symbol Of Freedom, didn’t get back up.
Around midnight. They were way in over their heads about the mission. It was meant to be quick. In and out. But when you’re fighting the town’s crime all day, you start to get tired. You get sloppy. Slow. Careless.
You start to forget things. You get messy with dodging attacks. You aren't careful. You aren't swift. You aren't flawless. You’re tired.
It was meant to be a quick heist. In and out. Is what she keeps telling herself. She repeats it in her head like a mantra. In and out. But she didn't know if she meant the mission, or if she was reminding herself to breathe.
It’s like the world was drained of sound. There was a faint “It killed Kenny!” Followed by a, “You bastard!” But she could only hear the strong pulsing of her heartbeat in her head.
As blood seeped from under Kenny’s superhero costume, she dropped to her knees next to him. Gently touching his shoulders and shaking him slowly as if it would help him regain consciousness. “K-Kenny—“ She started. She was sniffling but she didn’t wipe her nose, her shaking hands were on Kenny’s shoulders holding onto him, as if it was the only thing that could ground her.
“—please wake up..” she continued, tears freely pouring so much she could barely see, but still her eyes never left his face.
She looked towards the other boys for help, who seemed to be leaving. She quickly shot up and ran to the other boys, moving away from Kenny’s lifeless body.
“W-What— Why are you leaving?!” She exclaimed hurriedly in panic, unable to stand still.
The boys all exchanged looks, like she was delirious. Then The Coon gave her a weird stare. “Huh?”
“Kenny’s dead and—“She rushes to get all her words out at once and Human Kite cuts her off.
He blinked at her. “He’s not dead..?”
She felt frustrated. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her pulse thudded through her brain, flooding her ears.
They didn't believe her. He was right there. Kenny’s dead corpse was 4 feet away from them lying amongst the grime, rubble, and thick-enough-to-choke-on fog.
She turned to look at him. “But he's right ther—”
Kenny wasn't right there.
Panic arises to the surface of her beating heart again and she looks back to where he lay just a minute ago.
The Coon rolls his eyes mum mumbling something about her being crazy. She snaps her head back forward but Human Kite and Toolshed just give her a sympathetic look.
Her cheeks grew hot again, as if the universe made her out to be a liar.
“Less than 2 minutes ago! He was lying there—bleeding out!” She forcefully gestures to the spot behind her exasperatedly.
She points at Toolshed frantically. “And you! You said; ‘They killed Kenny!’” She recalled moving to Human Kite. “And you shouted back; ‘You bastard!’” she recited urgently, searching they're eyes for any spark of recognition, to no avail.
“I think the fog is getting to your head.” The Coon suddenly pipes up, looking moderate about the whole situation. Like he'd rather be sleeping than worrying about a claim that his friend just died.
Her eyes started stinging again, her vision going blurry again. “W-Well—Where is he then? How do you explain that?” She sniffles as tears quickly begin rolling down her cheeks.
“He’s in bed asleep. Where you should probably be! Acting like a lunatic…” The Coon concludes, giving his annoying little smirk and shrug.
Maybe she was tired. But she swore she had just seen him. Just held his dying, cold corpse in her shaking arms. She can't have been imagining it. Right?
She slowly starts walking back, shaking her head in disbelief. “Y-You all don't remember..?”
They stare blankly back at her, The Coon looking at her like she’d grown two heads.
She turns around and starts sprinting. Away. She couldn't stand there, where people didn't believe her. Where she'd sure she'd just witnessed Kenny die.
So she went home. The only place she could feel like she wasn't going crazy.
“Dude, she was like a lunatic.” The Coon began, shaking his head as Kenny furrowed his brow.
They’d made their way to Kenny’s house to pick him up for a new mission. They negotiated whether to invite her or not.
They decided against the idea, Toolshed and Human Kite more concerned for her well-being, and The Coon more concerned if she'd mess the mission up for them.
“Why? What was she saying?..” Kenny asked, quietly intrigued buy playing it off as blatant curiosity.
“She was saying you died and stuff..” The Coon shrugged, mumbling about Kenny having no food in his fridge. “It was so weird.”
Human Kite nodded slowly. “It was a little off..maybe she’s just tired though? It is late..”
Toolshed nodded and added. “Yeah. She was talking about Kyle calling someone a bastard and I said they killed you, or something like that..”
His eyes widened as The Coon guided him to the torn-up couch. “Just relax dude. We leave in ten.” He shrugs, continuing to dig through Kenny’s empty fridge.
Relax. But how could he relax? His mind was racing. Moving faster than he could. Because she remembered. It silenced him. It had made him go quiet.
He sat on the torn couch in his living room, barely hearing the others argue about snacks and mission prep. His hood was still up, casting a shadow over his eyes, but inside, his mind wasn’t stopping.
No one ever remembered. That was the curse. Every time he came back, the world reset like it had never happened. Like he hadn’t suffered. Like no one cared.
The thought hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. His heart started thudding faster, a little uneven.
He didn’t know whether to be terrified or… something else. Hopeful? Exposed?
“I gotta go,” he said suddenly, standing up.
The Coon looked up from the fridge. “Dude, what the hell? We leave in ten.”
Kenny was already heading to the door, grabbing his gloves.
“Just… cover for me. I’ll be back.”
He didn’t answer. He was already sprinting down the block, mind full of her, of her remembering, of the way she’d looked at him like she’d lost the only thing that ever mattered.
He scales up to her bedroom window. Tapping it softly, enough to catch her attention.
She was curled up on her bed, crying into her pillow because Kenny had just died, and no one cared.
And on impulse, her head gently turned towards the door and suddenly her eyes widened at the crouched boy on the outside of her windowsill.
She stared at him as if she had just seen a ghost, because she watched him die.
So he wasn't quite alive, but he wasn't quite dead either.
She wipes her tears gently with back of her hand as more ran down her face again, slower than before as she opens her window, yet he stays perched on the ledge.
“K-Kenny, I—” she began, a small sniffles dscales her nose as she wiped it gently with the back of her index finger. “—Thought you died..”
His hand hovered in the space between them, caught somewhere between instinct and doubt. The leather of his glove creaked softly as his fingers flexed, unsure. Maybe he shouldn’t touch her. Maybe it would scare her, push her further into the disbelief he already saw flickering behind her eyes.
But then he saw it, that single tear slipping down her cheek, carving a silent path down the curve of her face.
He moved without thinking.
Gently, like he was afraid she’d shatter beneath his fingertips, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his gloved hand. The leather was worn and soft from too many missions and too many nights crawling through rooftops, and though it lacked the warmth of bare skin, the gesture itself radiated something deeper. Something steady.
His thumb moved slowly, deliberately, brushing upward against the wet track, wiping the tear and its remnants away. It was careful, feather-light even through the glove—like he was trying to erase the pain without smudging the fragility of the moment.
The coolness of the glove against her flushed skin sent a shiver down her spine, not from cold, but from the intimacy of it. It wasn’t the softness of skin on skin, but it was him. His hand. His touch. His attention.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes locked on hers, and the world around them faded into a soft blur.
“Nope..I died but, not for long..”
His voice was quiet, raw—almost apologetic. Like he was trying to soften the impossible. But to her, it didn’t matter how he came back. Only that he did. Only that he was here, now, kneeling in front of her, alive and breathing, and looking at her like she was the only thing tethering him to this world.
She stared at him, her throat tight, heart caught in her ribs. A thousand words clawed at the back of her mouth but never made it out. Instead, tears welled in her eyes again—silent and shimmering, filled with everything she’d held back since he disappeared.
So slowly it was barely noticeable at first. Just the smallest shift in space. A breath closing the distance. A shared heartbeat between them.
His forehead brushed hers first—his gloved hand still cradling her cheek, his other now resting gently at her waist, grounding her, steadying her. She exhaled shakily, lips parting in the softest gasp, her hands twitching uselessly by her sides. She wanted to reach for him. She wanted to fall into him.
Then, finally, his lips met hers.
It was soft at first. Feather-light. Almost like a question.
But she answered without hesitation, surging forward and kissing him back, her fingers fisting gently into the front of his Mysterion costume. The kiss deepened instantly, fueled by everything they hadn’t said, by all the grief, the longing, the relief.
His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and tasted like the cold night air. Hers were trembling, full of emotion, full of everything she’d tried to keep buried. The kiss turned fuller, more desperate, more real. His mouth opened against hers and she followed without even thinking, parting her lips for him, inviting him in.
When their tongues met, it wasn’t messy or rushed, it was slow, purposeful. A gentle exploration. His tongue slid softly against hers, coaxing, soothing, savoring. It sent heat pooling in her chest and left her gasping softly into him, her entire body tingling from the sensation.
He kissed like he was terrified this moment might vanish if he didn’t memorize the shape of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the way she tasted like sorrow and hope and everything he thought he lost.
His fingers tightened slightly at her waist, pulling her closer. Her body pressed against his, and it was only then she realized just how much she had missed him. How much she had needed this. Needed him.
The kiss slowed but never stopped, turning tender again—less fire, more ache. His lips moved over hers with aching gentleness, like he was trying to apologize, like he was trying to say thank you, like he was trying to pour all the words he didn’t know how to say into the spaces between their mouths.
When he finally pulled back, barely an inch, their breath tangled together in the tiny space left between them. Her eyes were glazed, her lips kissed-red and parted, her body warm and trembling. He stayed close, his forehead still resting against hers, his hand still holding her cheek like she was made of glass.
“You remembered me,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
She slowly nodded, barely managing a whisper of her own.“Always.”
