Incubus!Victor X Fem!Reader NSFW

He’s Just Not That Into You

pairing:  jordan li x reader

summary: a hopeless romantic, you keep looking for love in all the wrong places, with all the wrong guys. that is, until you meet jordan li, who takes pity on you and tries to help you learn when a guy just isn’t into you.

gif credit: artemidosgifs

“You good?”

"Huh?" Dazed and drifting, you look up from your incredibly important task of peeling off the label for the worst tasting artisanal beer ever created.

You quickly remember why you focused on the task in the first place. The lighting at this party sucks. It's mostly dim, to try and hide all the unsavory things happening in every corner of the house. The brightest bits of it are all flashing. Neon blue. Neon red. Neon green. As if anyone has ever looked good in neon green lighting. That plus the never-ending movement of people dancing is enough to make you sick.

"Are you good or are you starting to tweak?" Your eyes adjust enough to see who's talking and you sit up straighter. Jordan Li. Number #2.

She's wearing her ever present scowl that makes you study extra hard in Brink's class. You don't ever want to be in the position to have to ask for clarification on an assignment or further guidance. Brink's so busy being renowned that he's a pretty absent teacher, if you're not one of his favorites. Everything menial falls to Jordan.

"I'm good! Totally good. Just vibing, y'know."

Jordan stares down at you, looks back out onto the sea of partygoers, "What vibe do you think you're matching?"

“Excuse me?”

"You've been sitting here for almost twenty minutes. You've barely moved. Did you take something?"

"No! I.... I didn't take anything. I'm just enjoying the atmosphere."

Jordan rolls her eyes, takes the beer bottle from your hand, and then takes your hand itself. She pulls you to your feet, easy, despite the way you go limp at the last second to try and stay seated. Without a word she begins to pull you through the crowd. Bewildered, you follow.

She doesn't stop till you're outside on the porch. Surprisingly, no one else is lingering. But the air has a chill that's pretty biting for an early day in fall. You take a deep breath. You hadn't realized how loud the music really was. How overwhelming every smell. The itch that crawled across your skin with each jostle of a body coming too near.

"Yeah, you look like you were really enjoying the atmosphere." Jordan drawls, leaned up against the railing, observing you.

Your first instinct was to say 'fuck you' to that, obviously. But at the last second you remember she is your TA and is probably doing all the actual grading for every assignment you turn in.

You force a smile, "Thank you. Guess I was feeling pretty anxious."

"What are you even doing here?"

"Should... I mean, I was... invited? If that's what you're asking. Although I think crashing parties is pretty typical college stuff, even if I wasn't-" 

“Not what I meant.” Jordan interrupts, “I mean you don’t usually go to parties. I never see you at any of them.”

“Maybe we just run in different circles.”

“Not really. You’re in the top ten now. What did you jump to, number 6?”

“Seven, actually.”

“Really? Well, won’t be long. Number 6 is a dick. He’ll be easy to knock out with the type of stats you’re pulling this year.” 

Somehow, this compliment bewilders you more than anything. Jordan must see it on your face, because she rolls her eyes again. 

“I keep an eye on the competition. Even if you are just a sophomore.”

“Okay, Junior.” You narrow your eyes at her. She narrows hers back, which feels like overkill, because she was already glaring. 

“So, what are you doing here?” 

“Did they hire you to be the bouncer for this party?” 

“Jesus, ‘m just making conversation. You looked like you were gonna hurl in there. What? Did your friends drag you here then ditch you?” 

“My friends would never do that. That violates the party safety rule. Arrive together, leave together.”

“Oh of course.” She says, nodding in a way that feels sarcastic. 

“I actually came without my friends.” You say, standing up straighter. Proud of yourself for stepping out of your shell even if it ended on a sour note. 

“You did?” Jordan raises an eyebrow. You deflate a little at the shocked tone. Even your TA thinks you’re lame. 

“Well…. I was supposed to meet someone here. But they… I dunno, I must’ve missed them. Or whatever.”

“Who were you supposed to meet?” 

You hesitate for a second, but they impatiently gesture for you to go on. So, begrudgingly you admit to, “Uuuuh… Andre?” 

“Andre?” In the blink of an eye they shift, and take a step closer. As if he wants you to see the disbelief on his face as clearly as possible. “How do you know Andre?” 

“What happened to we run in the same circle?” You snap back. “Andre’s top ten.” 

“Andre’s a fucking nepo baby.” Jordan scoffs

“Aren’t you friends?” You frown.

“Andre barely shows up to class, he knows why he’s top ten, trust me.” Jordan says. “Andre invited you?”

“Yes, Andre invited me. We were at the club last week and you know…talked.”

“You were at the club? You’re changing it up like crazy this year, huh L/N?”

“Lot of good it’s doing me.” You sigh. You twist the sleeve of your top, wrinkling the fabric. You’d spent hours picking out the perfect outfit that looked like you weren’t trying too hard, but brought out all your best features.

Jordan’s face twists, you’d almost mistake it for sympathy, “Did you see Andre at all tonight?”  

“Did he come here with you?” 

“Would you like me to lie or tell you the truth?” 

You sigh, moving to sit down on the porch steps, emotionally and socially exhausted. “It’s okay, I already know the answer.”

A moment of silence before Jordan moves to sit beside you. He offers back up the beer he took from you earlier, “You look like you could use a drink.” 

“Eh, you have it. If you’re not a germaphobe. Thanks for rescuing me.”

Jordan shrugs, takes a sip and almost spits it right back out, “God it tastes like fucking piss.” 

“You weren’t very nice to me during the rescue, so you didn’t deserve a warning.” 

“Well fuck me, I guess.” He laughs, staring at you. He let’s out a sigh of his own, “So which line did he use?” 

“Huh?”

“What did Andre say to you?” 

“He didn’t use a line.” You protest. 

“Andre doesn’t know how to do anything but use a line. Wait! Lemme guess,” Jordan looks you up and down before glancing at a few rings on your hand. “Were you wearing those?” 

You stare back at him. 

“Well?”

“Yes, I was, why?” 

“Did he come up to you with one of them and ask if you dropped it?” 

“.....Maybe. I repeat, why?” You ask, stomach twisting.

“Cause he slipped it off your finger with his powers so he’d have an opening. It’s his go to for girls that look shy. Seen it a million times.” 

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, actually. Fuck me!” You groan, laying back against the steps and throwing your hands over your face. “You’re really good at comforting people, did you know that?” 

“I’ve been told to work on it.” 

“Clearly not enough.” 

“Just didn’t want you to fall for the bullshit any more than you already have.” 

You scrub your face harshly, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat. “Sorry. Do you like apples? I can put a nice shiny one on your desk Monday morning as a thank you for the solid.” 

“Are you about to cry?” Jordan asks, bewildered.

“No.” 

“Over Andre Anderson?”

“No!” You sit up, glaring at him. He glares back. “Not exactly. It’s just… I don’t put myself out there a lot. So it sucks. That I tried… and all I got was a guy who fed me a line he’s used a million different times on a million different girls, who then ditched me at a party he invited me to. I should’ve just fucking stayed home.” 

You sniffle and then remember who you’re actually talking to and how awkward it’s going to be to see their face Monday morning for class if you keep spilling your guts. You stand up abruptly, already planning on apologizing for whatever you said while you were “drunk” tonight. You’re opening your mouth to make your excuses, already taking steps away from the stairs when Jordan reaches out, grabbing you gently by the wrist. 

“Wait! I’m… sorry, I mean-”

“Why are you sorry?” You sniff, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could’ve… I could’ve been nicer. About telling you. About Andre.” Jordan pulls you to sitting back down beside him, slowly, so you can pull away if you really wanted to. 

“It’s okay. I should’ve known better.” You say quietly. 

“Hey, no. I made it sound like he’s super obvious about it but he’s honestly pretty smooth. His only hobbies are picking up girls and cocaine. He could make… fucking, I dunno, Ellen Ripley blush if he had the prep time! It’s really not your fault.” The comment surprises a wet laugh out of you and Jordan smiles, bumping your shoulders together. 

“Thanks, but he probably was obvious. I just… don’t see stuff like that coming very well.” You laugh bitterly.

“What do you mean?” 

“I apparently just can’t tell for shit when a guy is actually into me! Or just… entertaining himself.” You sigh. 

You and Jordan sit in silence for a second. You have no clue what’s going on in his head. You see him tapping his finger on the beer bottle, the sound of his rings the only noise for a moment. 

“I could help you.”

“Help me what?”

“I could teach you how to spot when a guy is just being an asshole or when he’s serious about you. So this doesn’t happen again.” Jordan shrugs, taking another swallow of the beer, flinching again at the taste. 

“Piss kink or short term memory loss?” 

“Offer retracted.” Jordan laughs.

“Why are you offering in the first place?” 

Jordan shrugs, looking out in the distance, “You’re… cool, y’know. Think of it as a welcome to the top ten gift. You’re only gonna get more and more attention now that you’re there. You’ll need to be able to sniff out bullshit or you’ll get eaten alive. No offense.”

“I’ve been in the top ten for the last six months.” You scowl. 

“Mazel tov.” 

“Dick.” You scoff, fighting back another laugh. You and Jordan make eye contact and both lose the battle, laughing together. 

You take a deep breath once the fit passes, “This isn’t a top ten humiliation ritual of initiation thing, right?”

“I’m way too busy to waste my time doing stupid shit like that.” Jordan says, familiar glare falling back onto his face.

“Sorry, rough night, had to ask.” You say sheepishly. “Offer still open?” You smile, extending your hand out for a handshake.

“Yeah, offers still open, L/N.” Jordan rolls his eyes, but he does shake your hand.

“So, number’s one pretty obvious but we have to establish the basics because you told me you were hopeless.” Jordan sips her chocolate milkshake. 

“Didn’t use the word hopeless, but sure.” You mutter, tossing a fry into your mouth and frowning at the lack of flavor. “Hit me.”

“If he calls off plans with you all the time he’s not interested. If he doesn’t give you as much heads up as humanly possible before he has to cancel a plan or bail then he might actually hate you.” 

“You’re exaggerating.” You scoff, shaking extra salt onto your fries.

Jordan reaches over, stealing one of your now delicious fries to dip it into her milkshake. “It’s a type of power play. Too many reasons to name why a guy might feel the need to pull something like that but we don’t wanna get too complicated. All you need to do is memorize the red flags and run when you see them.” 

“Okay…. follow up question, what would you consider to be ‘all the time’?”

“If you just started seeing each other and he cancels two dates in a row without desperately trying to make it up to you he doesn’t give a shit.” Jordan steals and dips another of your fries. 

“What about emergencies? Like… I dunno, a funeral? What if his Aunt died? So he cancels that one date. Then the next one he tries to plan his car breaks down or something, you know?” 

“He should call an uber and get to the fucking location of the date come hell or high water. That’s what a guy who likes you is gonna do. Don’t over complicate, L/N.”

“Oh and you don’t think you’re over-complicating the process of eating my fries?” You smack at her hand as it reaches for your plate for the umpteenth time during this lunch. “You could have ordered fries. Why didn’t you order fries?”

“Didn’t want any until I saw yours.” She tries again but you see the movement coming and block her hand, again. You did not notice the second, slightly sneakier hand that does successfully carry out the theft. 

“Did you just juke me over a fry? 

“Yeah, and I won.” 

You toss a fry at her and laugh when she manages to catch it with her mouth. Asshole.

You sit on the corner of Jordan’s desk, watching as he finishes up some last minute work that Brink asked him to do before heading out. You’d offered to meet back up later but he just shook his head and said it wouldn’t take long.

“What if he’s just a private person?” You ask, kicking your feet lightly. 

Jordan looks up from his laptop and frowns at you, “Why are you trying to invent exceptions to the rules? The rules are there to help you. Can you say that for me, L/N? Can you say the rules are there to help me?” 

“The rules are there to help me.” You repeat back, mocking their tone. 

“Thank you.” Jordan smirks at you, “Like I said, if he’s hiding your relationship from the world then he’s not serious about you. He should be introducing you to people. You should be on his social media. People should not be shocked you exist when meeting you. All that bullshit.” 

“And if they’re a private person?” You challenge.

Jordan pushes away his laptop, turning to face you. “Fuck me. The types of guys you’re gonna be around as a hero are all gonna be doing the same stuff as you. There’s gonna be a certain level of our life that’s always in the spotlight. Minimum of two posts a week if he’s constantly posting in general.” 

“I don’t post very much.” You counter.

“You should be posting more. Especially as a top ten. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be number 6 right now. You need to be more active on socials.” Jordan gives you a look before going back to typing. Two weeks ago that look would have put you on the verge of tears. Now you roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“It was an order as your TA, actually.” 

“Oh god, an order? I’m shaking in my boots.” You tease, playfully kicking his chair. 

“That just knocked your essay from a B- to a C, congratulations.” Jordan quips. 

“You were gonna mark my essay a B-, you dick? You know damn well I don’t turn in B- work. Who do you think-”

The rest of the afternoon is lost to playful outrage. The papers get graded late. Yours comes back an A+. No one besides you has gotten a grade of + anything since Jordan became TA. 

“Okay, so this is one with a grey area.” Jordan says.

“Oh no.”

“Shut up. If he never gets jealous that’s a red flag.” 

“But-” You sit up from where you’re laid out on the blanket you threw on the ground to better soak in the last warm rays of September sun. 

“I am not saying go out with some overly possessive fucking maniac.” Jordan cuts you off. 

“Be specific, Jordan. You can’t give me rules with built in exceptions. I’ll fail. Is that what you want? You want me to fail, Jordan? That’s messed up-”

“Shut up-” Jordan laughs, shaking her head. “Listen to me, if a guy never gets jealous he just doesn’t care at all. The most namaste, enlightened dude on the planet will get jealous in the right situation. I’m not saying tolerate anything crazy. It’s just good if he like… responds, when you say you’re going to study alone with another dude at 9pm, in the guy’s dorm... while his roommate is gone.”

“Is studying alone with another dude, in his dorm while his roommate is gone, okay as long as it ends before 9pm?”

Jordan rips out grass from the ground and tries to sprinkle it onto your face. You put up a force-field and laugh when she sticks her tongue out. 

“He’s gotta give you his full attention. When he’s with you, he’s with you. Everyone gets distracted. But if his head is always somewhere else, every time you see him, he just doesn’t like you.” Jordan swipes at your head, fast enough to be a challenge to dodge but not hard enough to hurt you had the hit connected. 

You go in for a kick yourself and he practically twirls out of the way. You try twice more, managing to evade his own hits just barely. 

Breathlessly, you gesture for a time out and Jordan sighs, “We gotta get you better at hand to hand.”

“That’s what my shields are for.” 

“The way you use your shields is really good. You’ve gotten a lot more creative this year. It’s why you’ve been jumping ranks so fast. You’re powerful.” 

The earnest tone he uses makes you lift up from the hunched over position of misery on your knees, “You think so?”

“Well…. yeah.” He clears his throat. “But you can’t get lazy. What if someone wears you out and you don’t have any energy left for them? No more shields. You need to be able to fight.”

“If I don’t have any energy left for my shields and my only option left is hand to hand combat, respectfully, it’s my time.” 

Jordan rolls his eyes, “Break’s over. Back in position, stay on your toes more so it’s easier to move, okay?” 

You’re about to get back into form when you hear calls of Jordan’s name from across the arena. You turn and see Luke and Cate coming over, wide grins on their faces. You give them a small wave and they both wave back, incredibly eager. 

You’ve always been friendly with one another but the strength of enthusiasm is… strange. Enough to make you blink in surprise.  

“Thought you said you were super booked up this week doing stuff for Brink? Absolutely no free time.” Cate asks, staring Jordan down. 

“This isn’t free time. I can’t slack on hand to hand combat training. It’s important.” Jordan stares Cate down even harder. 

“Why didn’t you ask me?” Luke asks casually. 

“Jordan saw my form in a video I just posted and apparently it was ‘despicable’ and ‘the most insane way he’d ever seen anyone do that before’. He rushed over to show me what the ‘right way to do it is’. Control freak.” You fake a cough as you say the last part.  

“You were gonna hurt your back!”

“Super healing.”

“Super herniated disc.” Jordan quips back and you scoff, shoving him. 

He shoves you back with an eye roll, fighting back a smile.

“How ungentlemanly of you.” You gasp. A shift, and she shoves you again making you laugh, “and unladylike!”

“You shoved me first!” 

“Children, please try and be civil we’re in public.” Luke cuts in and you almost jump at the sound of his voice. 

It’s easy to get lost in your own world when you’re with Jordan. You turn to be politely facing your classmates and not just Jordan, wearing a sheepish smile. 

“Stop teasing them. They’re cute.” Cate smiles.

“Anyways, you guys need something?” Jordan asks.

“We can’t just hang out? Are you trying to get rid of your best friends?” Luke asks.

“Yes.”

“Jordan!” You bump her with your elbow. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave you alone. Wanna grab lunch with us after though?” Cate asks, looping her arm through Luke’s.

“You feeling up to lunch, L/N?” Jordan looks over at you.

With three unexpected pairs of eyes on you, you fluster. “If you go easy on me for the rest of training, yes.”

“Not a chance.” Jordan snorts. “We’ll be there though. Now scram. L/N needs a lot of help.”

“No, I fucking do not!” You protest.

The two of you don’t notice Luke and Cate walking away trading looks.

“When you don’t know really know anything about him, it’s not a good sign.” Jordan tilts the bowl of popcorn towards you. 

“And what do you mean, specifically, by knowing anything about him?” You ask, taking some pieces and throwing them back.

“Has has ever shared his feelings? Talked about his personal life? If you don’t know anything besides the superficial stuff he doesn’t care about you.” Jordan states. “You also need to look out for him not knowing anything about you. Does he give you space to open up? Does he remember the shit you do tell him?”

“Got it, so just look out for the superficial surface level conversations if you never have any deeper moments.” You say.

“Exactly.” Jordan says before her eyes snap back to the screen suddenly. “Did they say they’re gonna try and make that house feel more ‘open concept’? What the fuck is their problem?” 

“Huh?” You look back to Jordan’s TV, which is playing Property Brothers. “You got a problem against open concept?” 

“I have a problem with every house being made to look the same, inside and out. It’s bad enough new houses don’t have unique floor plans. Now we’re taking houses that were unique and fucking them up till they’re boring! What ever happened to individuality? I bet they’ll paint the walls grey too. Fuck me.” She huffs, leaning back against the couch. 

“Are you really into this show or just really into design patterns?” You ask, charmed at her passion for something completely random. 

“A bit of both.” Jordan says. “I wanted to be an architect. Before I got my powers.” 

“Shut up! No, you did not.” 

“I did.” She laughs, “I used to draw up plans and torment my parents with them every hour of the day.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking about your hidden passions. 

You even get the honor of seeing a few of the sketches Jordan made years ago. They were crinkled at the edges, pencil markings dull with age in some places. You smiled down at the folder Jordan keeps the drawings in. When you look up, finally, to compliment them you notice a strange look on Jordan’s face. 

Thinking you’d made her self conscious with your long silence you wrapped an arm around her and told her she would have made a hell of an architect. And probably killed someone with the utter lack of load bearing beams in her structures. 

You expected her to shove you off playfully but she only leaned into you and smiled, flipping to the next page of the folder.

When you get back to your own dorm room, moon high in the sky, you have to stifle a laugh. The latest post on Jordan’s Instagram is a picture of you standing with your hands on your hips in the middle of their room, looking baffled. 

The caption: I handed her the remote and walked away for five minutes. We’ve been looking for almost an hour #jesus christ #banned from room 4ever. 

You step out into the hallway and call Jordan up, demanding they take down their character assassination attempt because you two only looked for 26 minutes, actually. 

They refuse. 

You’re so incensed by the exaggeration that you wind up back outside Jordan’s dorm room not ten minutes later. When she opens the door, and sees you standing there, she bursts into laughter. She drags you inside, and when you ask her when the ban got lifted she just throws you on the bed. You spend the rest of the night arguing semantics. 

You and Jordan were sitting in the ground floor of the school’s library where you were allowed to talk quietly. You were teaching them how to fold paper to make little stars while they were teaching you how to make the perfect paper airplane. 

“Are you filled with barely suppressed rage? Why is it so damn wrinkled?” You laugh at their mangled star.

Jordan grabs another piece of paper with a huff, pushing her bob back behind her ears. “You are shit at giving instructions. This is impossible. Do the steps slower again.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m actually not capable of slowing myself down times 3 like a Youtube video.” You tease.

“Fuck you.” Jordan kicks you under the table with her foot. “Again. Show me.”

“You start with this corner here, then you twist it over here, next you wanna-”

“Hey! Hey! What’s up people!” You and Jordan turn in perfect sync to hiss at the person to be quiet only to find that person to be Andre Anderson. 

You turn back towards the table, Jordan moves an arm to curl around the back of your chair. 

“Hey.” Jordan says flatly. You make some noise that you hope passes for a greeting.

“Sorry, too loud. So this is where the party is, huh? What’re you two doing?” Andre grabs a chair on the opposite side of the table and you frown, focusing intensely on the paper before you. 

“Don’t you have a class right now?” Jordan asks sharply.

“Blowing it off.” Andre grins back.

Jordan scoffs. You only notice your shoulders are practically up to your ears when Jordan puts her hand there and rubs. You relax, letting out a quiet breath you were holding. Jordan gives you a squeeze. 

“Awww, you making little stars? Cute. Wanna show me how, F/N?” Andre has the nerve to sound flirtatious. 

After ditching you without a word and radio silence to back it up. To really make sure there’s insult to match the injury. You clench your jaw. Keep moving your hands. Try to zone out. 

The hand on your shoulder gets bigger and so does the thigh that brushes against yours under the table. “Could you fuck off for a bit? We’re trying to relax after our exams this morning.”

“Ouch. Didn’t know you couldn’t relax with me around, man.” Andre bites back. “F/N, you want me to stay, don’t you?” 

You get up from the table abruptly. The sudden sting in your eyes doesn’t even allow you you to collect your things. Your chest feels tight. You have to just get out of here. You hope in a school of future superheroes no one will steal your stuff. You think you hear calls of your name from behind you. Some yelling. Your ears are ringing too much. You break into a sprint. 

You can’t even make it to your dorm. You have to settle for tucking yourself into the first patch of trees behind a building you can find. You try to fight back the tears. One breathe. Two. Three. Try to focus on the birds chirping somewhere above you. But the memories are all flooding in at once and you start to cry. Heaving, chest burning sobs.

“F/N. F/N. F/N, hey look at me.” You zone back into the world to Jordan pushing your hair away from your face and you sob.

“Fuck me, I’ll kill him. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d get so upset. You seemed like you didn’t care after that night… I-  I’ll fucking knock his teeth in.” Jordan hisses. You’d thought you’d seen them angry before. But their face has never looked like this.  

“What’s… are you having a panic attack?” Jordan asks, still petting your hair gently. You manage to nod. “Is touching you okay? Is it making it worse?” You push yourself into his hands and without another word he pulls you into his lap, tucking you against him. 

You notice absently he’s wearing his favorite jacket and try to shift, so that you’re not getting tears and snot onto the fabric. He pushes your head back against his shoulder, shushing you gently. You let yourself relax, letting out the rest of the tears. Letting the anxiety leave your body. You start your grounding techniques as your breathing evens. You can see the sharp cut of Jordan’s jaw. Hear his heartbeat. The birds chirping. Feel his hands as they rub soothing circles into your skin. Smell the cologne he wears. You tuck yourself closer, even though no more tears are coming. 

“Andre is a fucking loser.” Jordan says, quietly but vehemently, “You shouldn’t waste a second fucking thinking about him. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. It’s not you. It’s just who he is.” 

“It’s not just Andre… It’s… it’s not even mostly Andre.” You say quietly. “I mean he’s a dick but… it just brings up memories.” 

“Memories?” Jordan echoes softly, and you know you don’t have to tell him anything but you want to. 

“When I was younger… I was even more of a wall flower than I am now. Shocker, I know.” You try to joke, Jordan only hums to let you know he’s listening, pulling you closer. “Even though I had powers I wasn’t popular or anything. I had trouble controlling them. Not enough to be dangerous… just enough to be… well, a loser, honestly. Because of my anxiety, and how loud my head gets my force-fields would just pop out whenever. I couldn’t stop it. If I was scared. If I got nervous. If I was feeling stupid, or ugly. All the time. People called me bubble girl.”

“I learned to just keep to myself but I was such an easy, fun target. Sneak up on the mouse and watch them jump and make a bubble! Fun!” You laugh bitterly. You think you feel Jordan kiss the top of your head, but you’re still out of it. “It made even getting out of bed to go to school hard. Administration wouldn’t take it serious as bullying because I was a supe: if I wanted it to stop I should defend myself.” 

“My parents felt the same way. Wouldn’t let me transfer. But I didn’t want to fight back. I didn’t want to turn myself into something I’m not just to be left alone! I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought eventually everyone would get bored, mature a little. But it just got worse and worse every fucking year. Senior year was… bad, though. I was getting better at controlling my powers so what kids would do to make me react was worse. But I just ignored it. I started just… pulling into myself. Whenever anyone would pour paint on my favorite outfit. Or cut my hair. Or hit me, I’d make the bubble in my head instead, and go there. Eventually, towards the end I thought people finally got bored, they stopped fucking with me as much. I thought I’d be able to graduate in peace.” 

“There was this one boy… he was popular. But he’d always been nice to me. He smiled at me in the hallways. Would help me up if people shoved me when he was around. He even gave me his sweater once, when someone cut up my shirt during gym. His friends were dicks but I thought he was different, I thought he was nice.”

“He suddenly started being even more nice to me. It felt… when he asked me to prom I just wanted to be normal for one second. I should have known. I probably did know. I just wanted to pretend, for five seconds, I wanted to pretend.” You trail off, lost in the memory.

“What happened?” Jordan asks, voice sounding hoarse. You try to pull back to see what’s wrong but he keeps you still. You realize he started rocking the both of you as you spoke. You didn’t realize how soothing it was. 

“It was a joke, obviously. We went to go shopping together, so we’d match, he told me. When we got to the shop he insisted we go to all his friends were waiting for us. Recording, of course. They all laughed at me. I still remember what one girl said, ‘you’re more crazy than we thought if you honestly ever believed someone like him would go out with a loser like you’.”

“F/N, those people were fucking assholes. They… god what the fuck is wrong with people. That’s not true.” Jordan makes you look at him, suddenly. You’re shocked that his eyes are red. “You’re not a fucking loser.”

“It’s okay, Jordan. I know they were just assholes. I always knew. It just hurts still. I’ve… I’ve avoided dating ever since, obviously. My first kiss wasn’t even romantic. It was just with a good friend that I knew wouldn’t make fun of me. So I could get it out of the way.”

“I’m sorry.” Jordan looks helpless, like he wants to do something but doesn’t know what. 

“You didn’t do anything, Jordan. No need to say sorry.”

“And then Andre went and fucking… fucking motherfucker I’ll kill him!” Jordan snaps, goes to stand up and then remembers he’s holding you halfway. He sits back down, grip a little tighter, but still gentle. 

“It’s okay. It wasn’t even a joke, what Andre did. He’s just… inconsiderate. And I happen to have a nasty experience that makes me blow everything out of proportion. I’ll have to get used to that kind of thing if I want to actually start dating.” 

Suddenly both of Jordan’s hands are on your face, holding you still so you have to look at him. “You’re not blowing anything out of proportion. And… and you don’t have to get used to shit, F/N. You’re fucking incredible. You don’t need to tolerate anything, from fucking anyone. You’re a fucking… you’re a fucking dream girl! You’re smart, and funny, and sweet, and strong, and beautiful. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You don’t have to settle for fucking anything. Okay?”

You stare up at him, shocked, he gives your head a gentle shake, “Okay?” You nod slowly.

He pulls you into another hug, the tightest one you’ve ever gotten. You don’t pull away until the sun dips so low you’re both draped in gold. 

“Fucking rank number fucking 5!” Jordan screams, arm wrapped around you tightly. A chorus of cheers from the rest of the group and people nearby. 

You cover your face, laughing helplessly. Jordan didn’t surprise you with this party, they knew that would only make you anxious, walking into a room full of people you weren’t expecting to see with (even if asked not to) cameras pointed at you. 

Jordan had texted you: I am throwing you a surprise party on Friday night to celebrate your new ranking. Please practice your surprised face. 

You had practiced. You’d done a very convincing gasp when you walked in. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Jordan says, for the umpteenth time, looking at you. You feel your cheeks go hot.  

“Oh shut up. I’ll get a big head soon.” 

“You deserve it more than anyone. You’re fucking awesome.” Jordan had started heaping more praise onto you than you knew what to do with, most days. 

She claimed it was practically training. That you needed to get used to people complimenting you, with the level of fame you’re going to reach. That alone had made your stomach erupt into butterflies. Jordan believed in you. Really believed in you. 

“You’re the one who’s awesome… you’re a good mentor, Jordan.” You reach up to hold the hand that’s been wrapped around your shoulder all evening. 

“Are you saying that following my advice works?” Jordan pretends to gasp. You playfully dig your nails into her side and she jumps before grabbing the offending hand and holding onto it. She doesn’t let go. 

Her advice had worked. You posted on your social media more, at her insistence. You started to become a beast at hand to hand, thanks to Jordan’s brutal training regimen. You were socializing more, because as long as Jordan was there you felt safe. But you were even feeling confident enough to do things on your own that high school you would be shocked didn’t instantly send you to the grave. 

You’d done an interview, for God’s sake! All on your own. Although your eyes kept darting to Jordan right off camera, who smiled reassuringly the whole time.  

“I will not. Because then you’ll get a big head.” You tease, giving both her hands a squeeze. 

“Let’s get a drink.” Jordan says, tugging you towards the kitchen. 

It’s quieter in the kitchen. The drink table in the living room is still overflowing so no one’s had to start looking for leftovers yet. 

“How you feeling?” Jordan asks, helping you sit on the counter before going to the fridge. After a second he pulls out your favorite. He hid them in the far back, you can tell by how far he had to lean. 

“Good.” You smile as he pops your drink open before handing it to you. He leans against one of your knees. 

“Party isn’t too much, right?” He asks, for the third time tonight. 

Laughing you push a strand of unruly hair back from his face. He freezes at the touch, before a smile creeps onto his lips. 

“Party is perfect, Jordie. Thank you. For everything. For being so…” 

“Don’t thank me for treating you the way you should always be treated.” 

“You treat me like a princess! What if I get spoiled? You’ll have to deal with a monster.” You tease. “You won’t even be able to be mad at me, because you’ll be the reason.” 

“You’ll terrorize the world.” 

“Cause complete chaos.” 

“Devastation, even.” As Jordan speaks you realize you’d gotten closer. A lot closer. Your chest seizes up with anxiety as you wonder how long you’d been leaning in like this. You almost pull back, ready to apologize. But you’re frozen stiff now and realize the two of you are still getting closer. With a jolt you realize you both leaned in. 

Jordan has a hand on your thigh, you reach down, nervous, to hold his hand as reflex. It’s an every day comfort, lately. You give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back. You don’t pull away as Jordan keeps leaning in. 

“Jordan! Come stop Luke from doing a keg stand, please!” Cate’s voice, typically pleasant sounds incredibly annoying at the moment. 

“Gimme a sec!” Jordan calls back, still looking you in the eye. You squeeze his hand tighter. He looks nervous. They’ve looked so nervous all night. Nervous you were having a good time. Nervous you were happy. Nervous… nervous to kiss you? Is he about to fucking kiss you?

“He has an interview tomorrow! Hustle please!” Cate calls back in a sing song tone. 

“Fuck me!” Jordan throws his head back, shifting, frustrated. “I’ll be right back, okay?” 

You nod, a little breathless from anxiety and excitement, and dread, and the full spectrum of human emotion. “Okay.” 

Jordan stomps out of the kitchen, probably going to rip Luke a new asshole from the sound of her boots on the floor. She sounds like her own stampede. You giggle, pressing your hands, still warm from holding Jordan’s into your face. You may be bad at signals but… 

You sit under the hideous fluorescent kitchen lighting feeling like something inside you is glowing. You kick your feet, nervous, waiting for Jordan to get back. Wondering what they’ll do. What they’ll say. If you’re delusional. You have to be delusional. You have to be. 

“Guard dog taking a walk?” In the doorway stands Andre, looking a little rougher than usual. His right eye is dark, like a black eye that’s started healing. There’s a small bandage over his nose. 

“What happened to you?” You gasp.

“Your guard dog.” Andre says, reaching into the fridge to pull out a bottle of spicy vodka. “Jordan’s number #2 for a reason. Congrats on making #5 by the way.” 

“Thanks.” You say. “When did Jordan do that?”

“A week ago. Would have probably gotten it earlier but apparently Cate talked them into waiting to see me until they were less pissed off. For which I’m eternally grateful.” He says, taking a sip straight from the bottle without chaser. 

You don’t really know what to say so you sit in silence. Legs still kicking, more from anxiety now, less from giddiness. 

“He gave me a busted lip too, but that healed pretty quickly. I also think he might have kicked a rib loose, been a little sore on the left side.” Andre says, he doesn’t seem to be angry but you don’t know why else he’d talk to you. 

“I didn’t ask Jordan to do that. If you’re wondering.” You say, slowly. 

“No! No! You’re way too sweet for that. This was just my shitty way of getting around to an apology. I’m sorry. I should’ve said sorry before Jordan kicked my ass but I promise Jordan kicking my ass isn’t why I’m saying sorry. The original plan was to ask you out again, make it up to you with dinner. Jordan just kicked my ass first.” 

“I hope to god you’re not working your way around to asking me on a pity date.” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“So Jordan could put me in a full body cast?” Andre laughs loudly, shocking you. “No offense, you’re really cute, but nothing’s worth that fucking beat down.” 

“Well, I guess I accept your-”

“You don’t have to forgive me. Jordan was pretty clear that I tore up some old wounds. I didn’t mean to, but I’m sorry. I can just be… a dick, sometimes. Often. All the time.” Andre jokes. 

“What did Jordan say exactly?” You ask nervously. 

“Nothing specific! I could barely pick out anything at all, really. The sound of her fist breaking my nose was pretty loud.” 

You laugh then try to cover it up by taking a sip. Andre grins and you relax, knowing it was his way of breaking the tension. 

“Can I ask you something?” Andre asks suddenly.

“You can ask, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” You shrug.

“Fair enough.” Andre says, toying with the bottle. “Do you like Jordan?” 

“What?”

“Because Jordan sure likes you.” Andre states. 

“No, they don't.” It’s a reflex to deny the possibility of someone having feelings for you but the words feel wrong once you say them. Weren’t you just about to kiss? Wasn’t his hand just burning into your thigh like a brand? “Do they?” 

“Jordan would never do a fraction of the shit they’ve been doing for you if they didn’t care about you.” Andre takes another sip, then moves to saunter from the kitchen. He stops, a glance over the shoulder. “However you feel, tell Jordan. And soon. They’re looking a little desperate.” 

Then it’s just you and the sound of the party, and the cool marble you’re sitting on. And a lot to think about. 

“Your incessant leg jiggling is distracting me from how and why they intend to turn this beautiful victorian home into another soulless open concept millennial nightmare.” Jordan says, glancing from the TV to your leg which, yes, has been jiggling for awhile.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Obviously.” 

“How can you tell if a girl isn’t into you?” 

Jordan turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed, “what?”

You feel heat flood your cheeks, but keep your eyes firmly glued to the screen. “Are the rules the same? Or different?”

“You like girls?” Jordan blurts out.

“What?” The question is enough to make you look at her. And now you're trapped by societal standards of politeness to maintain the most anxiety inducing eye contact you've ever shared.

“You've never talked about… you've never said anything about liking girls.”

“You only offered up the help for the one gender. Didn't wanna get greedy.” You force a laugh.

“How long have you…. have you always liked girls?” Jordan asks and you hope to God you're not hallucinating that quick glance at your lips. 

“You follow me on Instagram!”

“What's that have to do with anything?”

“I literally have the pride flag in my bio?”

“I thought you were-”

“-Jordan Li, if you're about to tell me you thought I was an ally I'll beat you to death, and then jump off a cliff.” 

Jordan laughs, ducking her head, hair falling into her face slightly. You dig your fingers into your thigh to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind her ear. 

“Is there a reason why you're asking… about how to tell when a girl isn't into you, all of a sudden?” Jordan looks up at you and the world narrows down to her brown eyes, and her nose, and her mouth. And the look in her eyes you hope you're not reading wrong.

You blink in confusion when amusement crosses over her face and for one awful second you think Jordan is laughing at you and you could throw up. But you realize you're suddenly looking at her from behind a force-field of light purple and feel queasy out of a different sense of embarrassment.

You can hear a smile in Jordan’s voice, but you refuse to unbury your face from your hands, “Never seen you not be able to control your powers before.” 

“Please kill me.”

“Can't. Your forcefield is still up, princess.” She teases, tapping at the bubble. 

With a groan of humiliation you drop your field and peek up at her through your fingers. 

“First the forcefield, now the hands. Still haven't answered my question though.” You almost snip at her that she should take a wild guess at your answer but there's something about Jordan’s expression. It's teetering between playful, guarded, and… something else. And you have to bank on whatever that something else is.

You take a deep breath in and move in closer, “You're not so awful a teacher that the lessons for a guy didn't stick, but considering you're a girl too who knows what incredibly important lesson you didn't know you had to teach me. The lesson… the girl lesson, that would have stopped me from misinterpreting what's been happening here. If I’m misinterpreting. All I know is… all I can really be sure of, is how I feel. And I, well-” You bite your lip, taking a shaky breath, and Jordan moves in closer, “I'm about halfway to being in love with you.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before her lips are on yours. Her hand curls at the base of your neck, pulling you in closer. A brush of her tongue against your bottom lip before you let her in with a breathless sigh. She moans against your lips, other hand moving to your waist to tug you into her lap. 

You lose your balance a little, fall into her in a way that is not at all seductive. You laugh, embarrassed and she chases the sound, using both hands to put you in her lap, holds you there firm and secure.

“You-” She kisses you, interrupting your sentence. “Haven’t-” Another kiss. “Told me-” She holds you tight this time, tilting her head to the side, sweeping her tongue against yours and gasping at your taste. You pull back with shaky hands, keeping her at a distance with a grip on her shoulders.

“Could we use our big girl words?” You ask, breathless and a little dizzy. 

“I’ve fucking only been in love with you for two years, thanks for fucking noticing.” She huffs, exasperated and smiling. 

“How on Earth was I supposed to interpret your seething stare of hate for being in love with me?” You’re already melting against her as she pulls you back in with the guiding grip on your hair. 

“Shoulda looked harder, baby.” She coos, and doesn’t let you up again anytime soon. 

A/N: my magnum opus of pining! if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

JAWAN (2023) dir. Atlee

Bird Watching

Construction Worker!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x single mom!reader

‘Birds of a feather,

We should stick together, I know,

I said I’d never,

Think I wasn’t better alone’

Part one

Part two

Part three (coming soon)

Main Masterlist

“National teacher shortage” is a fun way of saying that the USA has made a passion driven job so ungodly inhospitable that even people who “just care about teaching, not the money” don’t even care about teaching anymore.

If you have achieved something, please remember to observe a mandatory period of basking in the warm glow of your achievement like a lizard on a stone, lest you teach your brain that effort is futile, actually, because it didn't get to enjoy its happy chemicals, so, naturally, nothing good ever comes of trying. (And no, avoiding punishment is not a reward!)

I recommend, like, 5% of basking time in relation to whatever time you invested into achieving the thing minimum. And if you can't make your own bask, friend-brought is fine (= tell your friends!).

bully!Soap who never insults your looks, you were his pretty little cry baby. he craved seeing you whimper and whine, he loved the thrill of you fighting back with tears on your cheeks

he however hates seeing those pretty eyes pained. when the two of you were 10 years old is when he made the grave mistake of mocking your teeth for the first time, he was experimenting at the time and he q u i c k l y learned that is not what he wants, not at all, after watching tears of genuine hurt pool at the corner of your eyes, not meeting his eye as you cover your mouth with your hand and fleeing

you didn’t smile for weeks and everyone avoided the boy, who stared at you, willing you to l o o k at him

the first time he ever heard a boy a grade higher than the two of you utter the word “fat” in your direction, he blacked out, only coming back when two teachers were hauling him off the boy, knuckles busted and dripping blood, and the boys face was a proper mess

when they were dragging Johnny towards the office, he caught sight of you, staring at him, hands clutching his book bag and cheeks glistening in the afternoon sun, eyes wide and curious

imagine how much of a fucking horrible person you have to be that on the first day your elected into office the crisis calls of a Suicide Prevention Project Go Up 33%. The Trevor Project Received over 1,400 Call By Early Monday Afternoon. Most of those calls, if not all, are coming from children. Children scared of you and what you will do. Imagine how much power and how horrible you have to be to do that.

remember that you're white before you're anything else and this impacts every single way you interact with the world compared to poc

ok guys but hear me out..,

back before simon was drafted and he was still working in some butcher around the outskirts of manchester, he remembers a little bakery a few blocks down from his shop. although never particularly crowded, he's noticed the older locals go by in the mornings for coffee, kids guided in by their parents after schools to get a snack. but he doesn't seem to lounge in the corner of that cafe for either of those reasons- instead, he finds himself fawning over the pretty baker.

and you're nice to him, too- always smiling when you see him around, voice so sweet when you're at the butchers to buy some meat for the pies, sneakily trying to slip him a discount whenever he goes to buy a sandwich- 'hospitality workers gotta stick together, right?' it's no wonder that he finds himself falling for you, a stupid puppy crush that he tries, and occasionally fails, to suppress. and sometimes, simon lets himself believe you like him too, with the way the blood rushes to your cheeks when you spot him across the shelves, with he notes how you nearly fumble a frothing pot of milk when caught staring at him. it's a little attempt of young love that he thinks will be smothered out as he gets older.

but now it is twenty years later, he is working with the sas, and he is meant to be dead. but simon finds himself strolling his hometown, genuinely surprised that he sees the cafe still up, that he sees you, still working behind the display cabinets. you're older now, more mature, but your smile is just as pretty as it was those years ago. and he sees that glimmer of recognition in your eyes, how your head perks up at the sight of his figure outside of the window.

ghost smothers his cigarette and bins it before walking through the doors. may as well pay the bird a visit.