#kenickie

| wc: 1.1k | kenickie murdoch x zuko!reader

| warnings: none really.

| rewatched grease today after such a long time, and my crushes on kenickie and danny are so back!!

"she's off-limits. do anything with her, you're chopped liver."

that's what danny had said from the start. first day of summer. you were still brushing sand off your legs when he muttered it to kenickie, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. protective big brother mode.

kenickie just smirked like he always did, flicking his cigarette to the side and saying, "relax, danny. ain't like i'm gonna propose." he had no idea how wrong he was. or maybe he did.

you weren't supposed to look at him like that. not with the soft, secret kind of gaze that made your breath catch in your throat. you weren't supposed to smile when he bumped your shoulder or stared too long when he thought no one would notice.

but you did. and he noticed, every time.

--

it started with glances.

in the hallways. across the lunchroom. when the t-birds were joking around, and you'd be walking by with your books clutched to your chest, you could feel his eyes follow you. like his gaze burned through the back of your blouse.

and then came the touches.

innocent, at first. his hand brushing yours when you passed each other something. a hand on your back when you were walking through a crowd. the way his pinky would linger next to yours on the bleachers, never quite holding, just... waiting.

your heart would thump so loud, you thought danny might hear it from across the lot.

--

one night, you were sitting on the hood of kenickie's car after a party. you'd snuck away from the pink ladies and he'd wandered off from the guys. you didn't even talk at first, just passed a bottle of coke between you, watching the stars.

then, out of nowhere, he asked softly, "you ever think about runnin' away from all this?"

you turned to him, blinking. "like... the whole school?"

"the whole thing," he said, lighting a cigarette but not looking at you. "the drama. the rep. danny's overprotective ass. just... go somewhere where no one cares who you are."

you smiled faintly. "yeah nickie. all the time."

he finally looked at you. and for the first time, he wasn't wearing his cocky grin. he looked real. scared. nervous, almost. "it's gettin' real hard not to do something stupid," he muttered.

"what do you mean?"

he stared at you, then shook his head. "nothin' doll. forget it."

but you didn't.

--

weeks passed. more sneaking around. more long walks behind the bleachers. whispered words in empty classrooms. he'd call you "dollface" under his breath, and your cheeks would burn for hours. you'd leave him little notes folded in his locker, signed only with a lipstick print.

then one night, it all snapped.

danny had gone inside early after a t-bird party. the rest of the crew was still outside. kenickie found you in the kitchen, washing a glass.

"you shouldn't be in here nickie," you said, not turning around.

"you say that like i'm gonna listen, doll."

you turned around. he stepped closer.

and for the first time... he kissed you.

it wasn't fast. or greedy. it was slow— like he was scared to ruin it. like he'd been waiting an eternity.

"doll i've been thinkin' about this since june," he whispered against your lips.

"me too nickie."

--

after that, it became a real thing. you were together.

but still— in secret.

quick kisses in alleyways. long, late-night phone calls pretending to be "just a friend from class." dancing in his garage with the music low. you made each other laugh more than either of you expected. he opened up. so did you.

but every time danny walked by, kenickie would stiffen. he'd drop your hand. he'd act like nothing happened.

because the risk wasn't just getting caught— it was losing each other.

--

then there would be moments like when you'd sneak around at school.

you met behind the school gym during lunch.

"hey," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the shadow of the building. "you're drivin' me nuts, wearin' that skirt and parading around. the guys have been noticin', i don't like it one bit doll."

you raised an eyebrow and grinned. "it's not for them nickie."

"oh yeah?" he stepped closer. "then who's it for?"

you smirked again, slipping your arms around his neck. "maybe i'll tell you if you kiss me."

he leaned in, eyes flicking to the side. "you're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

"then what a way to go, huh nickie?" kenickie's hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, but his eyes kept darting to the edge of the gym building, nervous.

"relax baby," you whispered, brushing your lips near his ear. "danny's nowhere near here."

he huffed. "that's what you said last time sunshine, and then he came outta nowhere like the damn FBI."

you giggled. "it was the vending machine nickie. he was getting a snack."

"exactly." kenickie leaned back just enough to meet your eyes. “your brother would kill me if he saw us right now."

you tilted your head, pretending to think. "hm. maybe. or he'd just call you chopped liver again."

kenickie groaned, resting his forehead against yours. "i swear, i'm gonna start mooing every time he walks in the room."

that made you laugh, loud and sudden, and kenickie had to clamp a hand gently over your mouth, eyes wide. "baby, shhh!"

you muffled a snort under his hand, eyes gleaming.

"you're gonna get me busted," he muttered, but he was smiling now too, looking at you like you were the only thing holding him together. his thumb brushed along your cheek.

the laughter faded into something softer.

more fragile.

more real.

"y'know..." he started, voice lower now, more serious, "i don't care what your brother says. i'd still pick you. every time."

your heart thudded. the grin dropped from your face, replaced by something warmer, deeper.

"even if it gets you chopped into little pieces?" you asked.

he softly laughs. "yeah." he nodded. "even then, doll."

the bell rang in the distance.

you both flinched.

"i gotta go," you said, glancing toward the side entrance. "if i'm late again. ms. wakefield's gonna give me detention."

kenickie ran a hand through his hair, stepping back just a little. "yeah. go."

you hesitated, eyes scanning his face. "nickie?"

he looked up.

"this... thing between us... it's real, right?"

he didn't answer with words.

instead, he leaned in, gave you one last slow, secret kiss— one that said yeah, it's real. yeah, it's terrifying, and no, i'm never letting you go.

then he whispered against your lips,

"i'll see you after school, dollface."

you smiled.

and just before you slipped around the corner and disappeared into the crowd, you whispered back,

"you better."

Tragically, I haven't had a chance to smoke with him yet

a couple of adult designs in the show style!! these look really wonky but idc

Abe is a high school history teacher, Topher is either a geography teacher or a historian I can’t decide😓 Confucius is the new CEO of FlipFlop but is otherwise living off of his trust fund and is a stay-at-home dad, Harriet is a screenwriter aaand JFK probably just works a 9 to 5. idk yet

married tophabe & tubfucius btw… depending on the verse JFK ends up with my Isadora Duncan clone (cringe but idgaf 🙄)

adult Joan concept too!!! she works in film and is married to Vlad - they’re a gothic household. Bonus elderly tophabe too bc I despise them

I forgot I even wrote for Grease!! How fun is that?? And of course, only one character has fics.. Hi Kenickie.. 😮‍💨 Anyway, reqs for Grease are always open

Kenickie Murdoch

Lowkey expected but still

Helping Out New Kid!! GN!Reader

First Day, First Meetings!!

Mechanics Daughter!!

Makeup!!

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 [kenickie murdoch x reader]

a/n. please send me more kenickie requests y'all. My inbox is open!! fluff, angst, smut, IDC

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

The rumble hadn’t been pretty, a cacophony of shouts and yells, fits flying and landing with sickening cracks, blood, bruises. A group of guys, too scared to show their emotions in healthier ways, fighting one another in a cold, empty lot.

It had ended when the cops showed, the flash of blue and red painting the grass; everyone had scattered, running to their cars before their license plates could be noted. But Kenickie… 

Kenickie walked.

He was wired, still buzzing with an anger that would only seep away with each step he took, the seconds passing slowly, the frustration ebbing away and dissipating steadily. He didn’t really have a destination in mind; home was too far, and his Ma would flip if she saw him like this… 

When he ended up on your doorstep, he didn’t turn away. His feet had carried him here for a reason, and he knew that the second you threw open your door, eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Kenickie…” You whispered, but he merely shook his head, brushing past you, dismissing your concern.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, despite the white-hot pain radiating through his muscles, toeing off his mud-caked boots, knowing how much you hated when he walked dirt through your home.

“You’re not fine.” Your words were sharp, laced with an almost motherly disbelief, and he scoffed as you ushered him up the stairs and into your room, fast enough for your parents to be blind to his company.

“Sit,” you commanded, pointing to your bed, the floral duvet perfectly pressed and made. “Clothes off. I just washed the sheets.”

Kenickie watched with a smirk as you floated away to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit; his brows were raised, looking as smug as anyone can when they are covered in crimson.

“If you wanted me naked, doll, you shoulda said sooner.”

The look you shot him made him close his mouth quickly, retracting the words the moment they left his mouth. He complied, shucking off his jeans and peeling away his t-shirt, the fabric mottled and in a complete state of disrepair.

He sat slowly, wincing at the pull in his side, and you knelt beside him, rummaging through the kit and retrieving a small bottle of antiseptic.

“I hate when you do this,” you sighed, pouring a few drops onto a cotton pad and taking hold of his jaw. “Hate seein’ you hurt.”

Kenicke shrugged, pulling back as you brought the pad to his split lip but ultimately letting you work after a few seconds. “It isn’t that bad,” he grumbled, voice gruff from shouting. “Just a few scrapes. Other guys looked worse.” 

A small hiss left him as the alcohol stung at the cut, hands shoving at your wrist. The white pad came back dyed crimson, stained a deep shade. Your face was stormy, mouth set in a straight line, your expression painfully unreadable.

“Baby…” He tried after a few fleeting seconds of silence. “Don’t go silent on me.” 

“What do you want me to say, ‘nickie?” You don’t look at him, focused on wiping his brow, trying your hardest to scrub away the evidence of his anger. “I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t like you fightin’ and you still do it.”

The sigh he lets out is heavy, laced with exhaustion, and he leans forward just enough to let his arms encircle your middle. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice muffled against your chest. “Didn’t wanna upset you.” 

You pushed him back tenderly, eyes softening the tiniest amount. “I know you didn’t.” 

He watched you reach for a roll of bandages, shaking his head reverently as you went to wind the scratchy material around his torso.

“Dont need that,” The bruises blossoming across his milky skin said otherwise, the blood beading along his ribs calling out his lies. “I’m fine, doll.” 

“Like hell, Murdoch.” You press, winding the gauze around nonetheless, ignoring every pained grunt that he pretends doesn't leave him.

“I don’t need help,” he grunted through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed in an attempt to block out the pain, but you weren’t really listening.

“You’re the one who walked here.”

And, yeah. You got him there. He had walked to you, dragging his pathetic, bloodied self to your front door like a stray needing help, snapping and growling when you tried to clean him up but softening just enough to let you do so.

Because he trusted you.

And that was a damn rare thing.