#gen fic?

[kangaracha]

skz + losing 3racha

(this is actually written by @keepswingin, who found out i was saving this for a nevermore oneshot and said 'not if i write it first' and kicked me out of my own house)

---

The door creaks as he pushes it open, the room beyond dark and unwelcoming in a way it's never been before. Minho's not used to this - the quiet, the lack of unopened snacks sprawled throughout the room, the absence of clothes, of beanies, of half-finished verses scribbled hastily on scraps of paper or napkin or an old thank you card from a sponsor. 

The room used to be alive with his memory. Now it just sits, a void of their own making, because attempting to do anything otherwise was something Minho couldn't bring himself to do. Not then, not after, and certainly not now, even if it was the company forcing him to be in here after threatening of doing it themselves. And Minho would never let them do something like this themselves. Not now, not ever, not when it was something that concerned Jisung of all people. 

"Is this it?" she asks, attempting to peer over his shoulder. She's a ball of energy wrapped with anxiety, he could tell from the moment he met her, and he had hated it. Hated how it reminded him of Jisung, hated how it reminded him that the world around him would keep spinning even if his own had stopped still. 

"Yes," he whispers, willing his voice to stay steady. 

He takes a step inside, and can't stop his chest from hitching, the soft exhale that leaves him breathless. The bed is made, stripped of old sheets. The shelves are empty, the desk pushed into the biggest corner wiped clean and prepared with a brand new laptop sitting on top. 

She brushes past him gently and comes to a stop in the middle of the room, eyes flickering across what awaits her. Her hands squeeze into fists beside her, and Minho hears her chest hitch too, but when she turns to him, there is nothing but excitement glittering in her eyes. 

"Thank you," she says, even taking the time to bow. Minho can't bring himself to react, at least not when he's frozen like this, unable to form anything close to words as the odd feeling in his chest tightens more. "I'm so grateful your company is providing me with this opportunity, and that you guys are being so welcoming." 

She watches him for a long moment, and if she's waiting for Minho to say something, he can't, he can't, not when he's in Jisung's room with someone else and Jisung hasn't been here in months, and the last thing Minho ever said to him was something he never should have said at all, and then he was gone, they were all gone, and Minho and the rest of them were - 

"Minho-ssi?"

- left behind.

Minho blinks. He feels like he wants to scream, or cry, or not speak for a long while. "I'm sorry," he whispers, turning towards the door. "Please let us know if you need anything." He closes the door behind him just breathes a for a moment, before pressing his forehead to the wood and closing his eyes. 

He can pretend that it's Jisung shuffling around inside if he closes his eyes.

o

The room is a mess of wires and cameras as he sits off to the side in a lonesome chair, allowing a crew member of the channel they're interviewing for to clip a microphone onto the collar of his shirt. The man doesn't say much as he does, and Minho doesn't really pay attention as he leaves, his mind beginning to drift as he watches someone else struggle with fixing Seungmin's shirt in front of him.

He gets lost in a mind a lot these days, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's lost until one of the members is gently tugging his attention back to the present, a soft look here, a gentle touch there. Too nice, for someone like Minho, who is the barbed wire thrown over a fence long forgotten. Sharp edges and a sharper tounge, once upon a time. Now, he feels like something lost in the wind, far from home. 

"Okay, we're ready to start!" The director announces, walking into the middle of the set and clapping his hands together. "I'd like to go over a few things before we begin." 

And then he waits, eyes scanning the room, like he's looking for someone in particular. He is, because he wants the leader of the group, the one in charge of Stray Kids as a whole, and Minho doesn't realize that he's talking about him until Hyunjin is beside him and gently tugging him up from the chair. 

Minho turns to him, something hot prickling in his throat. He would spit an insult, before. Now, he simply presses his lips together and allows Hyunjin to walk him over to the director with a stiff smile. 

The director waits patiently as Hyunjin apologizes on Minho's behalf, and then the older man launches into what he expects from the shoot, among some other things. Minho doesn't really listen, simply nodding his head when needed. 

He forgets to speak up, sometimes. When they're filming or out at an event that is mostly spoken in a different language he doesn't care about enough to learn. But he's had to learn, and he's had to lead, and none of it ever makes sense in his head because all he wants to do is lock himself in Jisung's room and never come back out. 

Sometimes he even goes as far as pretending that Chan is still around, only for that cavern in his chest to grow wider when he turns and finds he was never there to begin with. 

"What do you think?" the director asks, curious tone cutting through Minho's thoughts. "You know your group best." 

This isn't my group, he nearly corrects, mouth forming Chan's name like second nature. But Chan isn't here, and Chan isn't the leader of Stray Kids anymore. Lee Minho is the one in charge of the five original members, and the three new ones. 

("To keep the name relevant," a higher up had said to Minho as soon as he had asked about two girls joining with only one new boy, instead of keeping them as an all boy group. "Sales are down, and the media has finally stopped talking about the other three. We need to send a positive message of acceptance in these trying times.")

There's a rope cutting into his chest. He can't breathe. Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder, thumb pressing against his skin hard enough to hurt. It keeps him from crying. He's thankful he doesn't cry. He's not supposed to cry. 

Chan was never supposed to leave. 

"Whatever you think works best."

o

The studio is cold and bare of the energy it used to have when Changbin would be there alongside the other two, spitting curses or lyrics or swatting at whoever had decided to make fun of him in the moment. Now it's home to a revolving door of producers that Minho never likes. 

Some bring lyrics that are too disconnected for singles. Others merely want to pander to the girls, offering them notes that Seungmin and Jeongin were more than capable of nailing themselves. The b-sides don't flow like they used to, and far too many of them are disjointed and heavy in rapping that's too heavy for songs meant to be light. 

The chorography is the only thing that stays the same after all this time, the one thing Minho can still throw himself into without having to think. He's given Hyunjin and Felix more work to do in having to train two girls with left feet, though the new guy wasn't too bad, but they never complained. 

"Good," this producer tells him, waving a hand with a small smile. "That's all your lines." 

Minho wants to say something, anything. He wants to record the whole thing, strain his letters less, hit that note like how he should be able to. But the words well up in his throat, and nothing comes out. 

He nods, and murmurs his thanks as he pulls the headset off. 

The booth is too quiet. The producer is too quiet. 

Everything is too quiet without a voice to tie all of it together. 

o

He stands on the bridge and watches the boats as they pass underneath him, the wind stinging at his cheeks. Every breath fills his chest with cold air, and it keeps him here, and awake, and alive, as he watches the lights of the city blink and flicker in the distance. 

Minho had brought Jisung here, years ago. They had talked for hours, standing on the edge of the universe, even if it was nothing more than the pathway of a bridge. He had smiled so much that his cheeks had hurt, and Jisung's laughter had been the sweetest thing he had ever heard. Minho had hugged him - pulled him close and buried his face in the crook of his neck, stayed there until forever was something he thought possible. 

"I'll never forget you," he whispers against the next breeze, hoping it will carry his words to wherever they were, wherever Jisung was. "I don't think I ever could." An exhale that rattles his bones. "I don't want to." 

He closes his eyes. Listens to the wind, and the waves, and the beat of his own heart. 

Something warm wraps around him, squeezing him tight. It feels like someone he knows. He doesn't open his eyes, afraid to shatter whatever illusion his mind has created this time. And then a hitch of breath, and a small, raspy voice, whispering close to his ear. 

"You don't have to." 

#stray kids #skz #lee know #minho #lee minho #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #lee know imagine #minho imagine #lee minho imagine #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #minho imagines #lee minho imagines #roo writes #the urge to make this a full smau #someone hold me back tie me to a chair #queenmaker but make it DEVASTATING THE WHOLE TIME #like seriously this has brainworms in it #i had to call keeps a genius and i don't like it #i'm the only one allowed to have good ideas on this blog #but you know SOME people can't be controlled #anyway just fucking #imagine #this #fic #as an #smau #gen fic?

[dapper-lil-arts]

The Chrysalis x Cadance pairing is so much funnier if its a polycule

#cadalis #mlp #gen 4 #shining armor #cadance #chrysalis #meme #my little pony #friendship is magic #mlp fanart #one of my fics that i'm slowly working on has a sequence where chrysalis and cadance are together #and its disgustingly funny #queen chrysalis

[thebiggestfuckgiven]

i may or may not be planning a fic where one of the many subplots is that Jason (as Red Hood, but Danny already knows) is following/investigating Danny because he thinks Danny’s dangerous somehow. I won’t go into the details because it’s so much, but point is i have a silly little scene in my head wherein Danny goes out to work on a uni group project with Tim, and on their way to the cafe some asshole car hits a guy on a motorcycle. The Biker goes into a rage and starts cursing him out, takes off his helmet and lo and behold it’s Jason.

Mid-verbal fight with the asshole he catches sight of Tim (recording the whole thing and waving at Jason) and of Danny (potential danger he’s been investigating for nearly two weeks), and Jason gives the asshole a “this isn’t over” threat and dips. Then,

Tim, who noticed Danny’s reaction: You know that guy?

Danny: Oh, yeah, that’s my stalker. You?

Tim: Nemesis. I’m sorry he’s your what?

Bonus:

Tim texting Jason: are you stalking my classmate??

Jason: Mind your own business, Replacement.

Jason: Wait, did he tell you that?

Tim: yah

Jason: RH’s been investigating him. Why the FUCK does your “classmate” think it’s me?

Tim: dick is gonna love this. the great rh has a containment breach

Jason: DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TELL HIM REPLACEMENT

Tim: LMAO fuck it we BALL

Jason: TIM

#dpxdc #tim is always on the lookout for blackmail opportunities #i’m planning the fic so far #i really hope i get the chance to write it djsj #jason has perfect text grammar #he’s nerdy like that #tim doesn’t even want to do the group project #he was planning on ditching but his group partner has made his day 10x more interesting #and more stressful #gen z tim #danny doesn’t even question the nemesis comment #’yeah that tracks’

[destinationtoast]

Toastystats: Where to find Gen on AO3

As recently promised -- a whole lot of Gen stats are now available! :) Please read on AO3 for clarifications, caveats, corrections, and a bunch more graphs and data.

#gen #gen fic #fandom stats #batman #minecraft smp #ao3 #toastystats #op #50 #100 #500 #1K

[isjasz]

[Day 238]

💤💤💤

---

ME WHEN I GET A FULL BLOWN FIC INSPIRED BY MY ART AND MAKE A FULL PAGE COMIC OUT OF IT HOW WE FEELING💥💥💥💥💥

Explodes this still feels like a fever dream hi so @definitelynotshouting this absolutely batshit insane guy wrote "honey it's starting to storm" INSPIRED BY THIS ART FROM CHRISTMAS. I need to yell about it more istg this is the W of the century. Guys please it's so good go read it go read go rea

Emphasis GO READ IT👉

#dddaily4sherin #desert duo #scarian #hermitshipping #<- for tems fic #bc this comic itself can be read platonically too ig LOL #the fic is. def not tho. /pos bro went ham on the love description its so URGRHHRHRHRJRHE #listen i WANTED TO DRAW THE KISSIES BUT IT NEEDED A SECOND PAGE😔 #but anyways tem i have not yelled at you enough about this this gen so cool UEJEJKAKHAKAS RAHHHHHDHEHEJ #ENJOY THE ART 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 #my art

[altschmerzes]

gen fic appreciation post. i love you gen fic. i love you serious, plot-heavy gen fic. i love you funny, lighthearted gen fic. i love you angsty whump and h/c gen fic. i love you emotionally complex and intimate gen fic. i love you super long chaptered gen fic. i love you oneshot gen fic. i love you strictly canon adherent gen fic. i love you alternate universe gen fic. i love you crossover gen fic. i love you gen fic about queer identity and relationships. i love you found family gen fic. i love you gen fic.

(edited to add: by ‘gen fic’ this post is NOT referring to rating. it is referring to fic that is not about and does not prominently feature romance, regardless of rating.)

#gav gab #thinking abt the way people talk about gen fic today #and it's often so....... reductive even when they're trying to be complimentary #'gen fic often has so much more PLOT and REAL CONCRETE EVENTS' like sure i guess sometimes #but heavily emotional character relationship based gen fic also exists and deserves attention #it just feels like a reflection of the way people talk about aro people having 'so much more time to get things done' without romance yknow #anyways. gen fic is so many things and i love it.

[inklore]

I’ve seen your reblog ‘“i’ve been thinking about you all day” as they’re filling your pussy’ and I was wondering if it was okay to request this with Jordan Li (established relationship)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: foreplay, p in v, oral, this is very soft, it’s basically fluff with smut, both of their presenting forms involved, everyone is love sick and clingy idk | wc: 860

note: they're everything to me!! i have something much longer in the works for them but i needed to write something quick and yearny.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, their fingers twined with yours as they hold you in place, as if you’d ever escape them, leave them, or try to. 

As if you could go anywhere with their body pressed against yours and their hips moving between your thighs. 

Slow thrusts that make you feel every inch of them moving inside of you. Fucking you at that languid pace that comes from the frustration of long days and the yearning that pricks at one’s heart from being separated for too long. 

Course work and keeping your rankings are chores in and of themselves, but living up to the expectations it sets is even harder. So if a day goes by and Jordan can’t have you pressed up against them, at their side, or at the very least your nose in your test books laying against the other sprawled on their bed, each of you doing your own thing: their day just doesn't feel right. 

Doesn’t feel normal if they can’t pull you to the side in the hall and press a kiss on your lips. 

Can’t get the death glare you always give them when they forget to eat lunch because they were too busy helping Brink, and you surprise them with dinner and dessert—the dessert usually forgotten and turns into you between their legs or vice versa. 

Their days aren’t normal unless you’re in them. 

They haven’t felt normal since the two of you decided to try this. To be together. 

“You’ve rewired me,” they mumble against your shoulder as the two of you try to fall asleep one night. The clock on your nightstand glowing 1:00AM in big, haunting letters. Your night supposed to be spent working, but there are only so many sneaking glances and innocent touches against skin before you are both done pretending you want to do anything besides have the other naked and against you all day. 

And you know that they’ve rewired you too. 

Made the fucked up in your life a little less fucked, made the days easier to endure when there’s the constant pressure of greatness looming over you. 

You could crash and burn, and you know you’d still have their support, just as they would have yours. And that’s a higher score than rankings could ever give you. 

It’s rare the two of you will go a day without seeing each other, without ending up pressed together in bed—weed filled lungs laughing until the haze lolls you to sleep and you’re waking the next morning to Jordan’s alarm clock and the shifting groan of both their forms pulling their pillow over their head. Pulling you back down into bed when you actually do something crazy like get up and not lay with them for five more minutes. 

But nights like these make up for days when you are both swamped and Brink needs Jordan for something, and you are stuck alone with your nose in a book or forcing Marie and Emma to get Vought A Burger with you. 

Nights where there’s no rush. No need to go fast and get off as many times as your body aches for—as many times as the other wants to swallow and taste the pleasure each time you come against them, on top of them, or inside of you. Like you’re both dying of thirst, and only the others come will do. 

These nights are slow. Savored. Like you’ve been away at war rather than occupied over a span of twenty four hours. 

Jordan kisses you achingly slowly these nights. Let’s their tongue linger in your mouth for longer than normal, nipping at your bottom lip with gentle teeth. Their fingers stripping you of your clothes like they need to press their lips to every bit of skin they free. 

And when their tongue finally makes contact with your pussy it feels like you can finally breathe. Like you’ve been holding your breath for days—all night—for them to finally soothe the ache that they’ve caused. 

Their hips buck against the air when you switch positions, and your tongue presses between their thighs. A slow tease of teeth and tongue tracing down their hip bones until you’ve reached where they’re soaked, or hard for you. 

Neither of you letting the other come until Jordan is inside of you. 

Until you’re both sighing from that first initial push inside, the head of their cock easily fills you with how wet you are—how wet they’ve made you. Gasps breathed into mouths from that first slow roll of their hips. 

It’s heady and fucking torturous, and you love it. 

You both do. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” they murmur against your lips. Their fingers flexing against yours as they keep them above your head, as they completely take control of your body and show you just what they’ve been thinking about. “You take up every part of my brain, and it’s a problem, but I fucking love it.” They moan into your mouth; roll their hips in that way that has air whooshing from your lungs and your pelvis pushing up to drive them deeper. 

#jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #gen v fanfic #jordan li fic #jordan li fanfic #jordan li x y/n #gen v smut #jordan li

[0and0its0doctor0]

Drunk on you

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, making out

Summary: Aaron has a tough time clearing his head from the horrors he sees at work. Watching you dance around the kitchen in one of his college shirts seems to help.

Word count: 370

Author note: So sorry it has taken me so long to post something. I feel bad it's so short. Please feel free to send any Criminal Minds requests my way!

Aaron let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his head to the steering wheel. His mind was full of morbid photos and case files that were stacking up on his desk. He was trying to clear his head and decompress before he walked into the house. He liked to try to leave all the trauma he had to deal with at the office but sometimes it was hard. He took a deep breath, loosened his tie, and stepped out of the car.

The minute he unlocked the door and stepped inside he set his bag down and couldn’t help but smile when he heard the music coming from the kitchen. He quietly stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall as he watched you dance around the kitchen. His mind cleared and his smile grew when he noticed you were wearing one of his old college shirts and a pair of shorts that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your hair was in a messy bun, and he just thought you were the most beautiful girl he honestly had ever seen.

You were dancing to the music and didn’t even notice Aaron standing there till you turned and jumped a foot in the air when you saw him. “Holy fuck you are too quiet!” You said with a grin as you practically tackled him to the ground with a hug. You could always tell how hard his day had been by how hard he would hug you back and tonight he was almost breaking your ribs. “I love you. So, fucking much.” He refused to let you go as he walked the two of you to the couch. When he sat, he pulled you into his lap and started to kiss every available inch of skin he could find.

You tilted your head to the side to give him better access. Aaron barely pulled away from you, just enough to slip out of his suit coat. “Babe dinner is going to burn.” You said breathlessly between kisses. “So, we’ll order out.” He said as he started to tug the shirt off your body. “I love you too.” You whispered in his ear as you started to unbutton his shirt. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds gen fic #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #fluffy #hotch x reader #fluff #criminal minds fic #criminalminds #criminal minds oc #aaron hotchner imagine

[ghost-bxrd]

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

OR

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

#ghost talks #lmao Jason would be so done at this point #like pls spare him all the horrible references he doesn’t understand #he’s gen z #and everyone is suddenly using boomer memes #and he’s so lost #dick isn’t helping #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood #fic #batdad #good dad bruce wayne #brainstorming

[familyofpaladins]

Saw a poll thati implied people only read fanfiction for shipping. And I KNOW that's not true. but now I'm curious to what the ratio is

Ship fics are referring to any fic that is about two or more characters and their romantic/sexual relationship, where the story revolves around that relation ship, or takes a good chunk of the story

Gen fics refer to any fic where the main plot/story is NOT focused on the romantic/sexual relationship between two or more characters (gen fics can include ships, like if there is an established relation ship, but the fic is not focused on the ship)

The main point though is, do you go looking for ships, or other reasons

#To me it seems like a lot of people read for gen #But I'm also in a circle/corner of tumblr that is very aroace in some aspect and writes/reads gen stuff #So my viewpoint is a little skewed #So let's see what people actually read for! #Polls #Fanfiction #Ship fics #Gen fics

[dapper-lil-arts]

Season 1 Rarijack is really funny

#Rarijack #twilight sparkle #pinkie pie #applejack #rarity #they're always seconds away from making out angrily #that season is hilarious #my little pony #mlp #mlp gen 4 #friendship is magic #pony posting #meme #this ship man. this ship #hydrogen bomb #im absolutely writing a fic thats rarijack but shrek 1

[dailyfrank]

#sorry yall #frank iero #my chemical romance #gerard way #uhm #anyone read any good frerard fics recent #slash gen i wanna get back into reading mcr fic. sorry!

[slasherscream]

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

#bee talks #he's just not that into you #jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #gen v #black!reader #this fic is a fucking monster in word count but that's just what jordan li deserves

[ky-landfill]

hello hello! if you are taking requests atm could we see some reverse robins tim and damian? or tim and duke? thank you vv much

#the sting of rejection #Damian wayne #Tim drake #reverse robin au #fic rec #Only the Best Bits of Bacon for Tim #sElkieNight60 #warning for gen A/b/o content #Wip #prompt response #<3 #Alfred bowl cut special once again

[fanficimagery]

No Bone Zone

Dustin Henderson has a sister who thinks it's unfair his older friends are so attractive.

Words: 4.8K Author's Note: Stranger Things AU - Lets just pretend that Steve and Carol are still in school, only Steve is the Steve we all know and love, and Carol is still a harpy.

When your father met Claudia Henderson, you had only been two years old.

The story goes that your birth mother had thought she snagged herself the perfect man, but your father had a wandering eye, and she was a very jealous woman. So, when you were born, she left you in his capable hands and took off without a word. Enter Claudia Henderson who then fell for the struggling, single father schtick. She hadn't known what she was getting into when dating your father, but she quickly found out after she fell pregnant. This time it was your father who left, leaving Claudia to fend for herself.

It took a few years to realize you had a little brother, and when you did it took a lot of crying and tantrums to get your father to contact Claudia. He reluctantly told her you wanted to meet your brother, but since the two of you had school, it would have to wait until summer. So, one week out of the summer, Claudia Henderson would keep you in Hawkins so you could get to know your only sibling.

Over the years, you and Dustin kept in contact over the phone when he was old enough to know how to use a phone. You shared your interests with one another, telling each other all about your school experiences. You were more on the popular side of the spectrum, whereas your little brother was a total nerd and very unpopular. He admitted it hurt when other kids picked on him and you apologized for calling him a nerd, but he assured you he didn't mind it when you said it because you said it with affection.

The older you got, the more your father pulled away. Since you were old enough to take care of yourself, he treated you more like a houseguest and less like a daughter. And after one too many arguments with his late-night visitors, you called up Claudia to ask if you could finish your last year of school in Hawkins. She listened to what had been going on and immediately told you to pack your belongings. She and Dustin would make sure the room you normally used for one week out of the year would be ready for you to move into.

Dustin was more than happy to have you go to school with him but was wary of introducing you to his friends since you were on completely different sides of the popular spectrum. You promised he didn't have to do that, and he could go about his days as if you weren't there. You wouldn't hold it against him, but you would still keep an eye on him from afar because that's what big sisters did.

For the first week at Hawkins High, you pasted on a smile and took in your surroundings. You kept your word to Dustin and stayed far, but not too far away. Then when you were comfortable knowing who was who in school, you tried out for the cheer team. It was a no-brainer that the girls voted you onto the team after seeing how quickly you could pick up routines and perform the perfect tumbles, and in no time, you found yourself at the top of the totem pole where you belonged.

Over the weeks you noticed Dustin had two separate groups of friends- one who called themselves the Hellfire Club and another who consisted of a band geek, an ex-king, a creep photographer, an ex-princess and two freshmen females. The Hellfire Club made sense, but the second group was all over the place. You, however, didn't question it and were just glad Dustin had friends who looked out for him.

Unfortunately, your brother's friends consisted mostly of males. There were four females in his social circle, but none of them were as confrontational as you hoped they would be.

So, when you see Carol Perkins purposely bump into your brother and knock his tray from his hand one day, and then cruelly make remarks towards him that have his shoulders raising in embarrassment, you're up and out of your seat. Half the cafeteria had quieted when Dustin's tray clattered to the floor and then the other half quieted when you practically skipped towards the duo, your cheerleader skirt swishing from side to side.

"Hi." You beam at Carol, letting your smile lure her into a false sense of security as you come to a stop next to Dustin. From the corner of your eye, you see his shoulders droop in relief. "We haven't met yet. I'm YN LN," you tell the girl.

"Okay. And..?" Her nose wrinkles as if in distaste and your gaze goes steely.

"And I'm gonna need to apologize to Henderson here," you say. She barks out a laugh, head thrown back in amusement. A few others start to laugh along with her, but a majority smartly remain quiet as you continue to stare her down. Your smile falls and you take a step closer to her, lowering your voice and clasping your hands behind your back. It would do no one any good if you were to strike out at the female bully. "Listen, Carol, I couldn't care less about who you pick on, but you just pulled this stunt on my little brother. Now apologize, publicly, or I will make your life a living hell." The girl's smile slowly vanishes and you see her glance at Dustin a little fearfully. You slowly smirk then. "You see, I pick locks for fun. It'd probably take me a week, give or take a day or two, before I open up that closet of yours and air out all your dirty laundry. You wouldn't want that, would you, Carol?"

"You- you wouldn't."

"Oh, I would. And I'd do it with a smile on my face," you tell her a little too sweetly. When she still makes no move to apologize, you ask, "Who do you think the school's gonna rally behind? The cheerleader that everyone adores or the girl that everyone makes fun of because your middle school sweetheart is railing other girls behind your back?" She gasps and you chuckle darkly. "I might be the new girl but figuring out everyone's dirty little secrets was way too easy in your podunk little town."

Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps back. Glancing at Dustin, she says, "Sorry," before rushing away.

You smile as you watch her go, turning on your heel to follow her and then laugh when she smacks away her boyfriend's hands when he tries to check if she's okay. Then when you realize the cafeteria is still too quiet, you huff. "What?" You feign innocence. "The girl had tummy issues. It's not my fault she had to race to the bathroom."

As some of your peers laugh and the rest go back to what they were doing before Carol interrupted their lunch hour, you look back at Dustin. He's grinning at you, and you roll your eyes while reaching out to ruffle his curls. But before either of you can say anything, someone is clearing their throat.

"New friend, Henderson?" Eddie Munson is grinning behind Dustin, though his guarded gaze tells you he's trying to figure out whether your appearance is with good intentions or you were about to pick on his little sheep as well since he couldn't hear the whole conversation between you and Carol. "I didn't know Hawkins had a decent cheerleader."

"Decent?" You mock gasp, clasping your hands over your heart as if swooning. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Munson." You wink, Eddie gapes, and Dustin groans as he turns so he can see both of you.

"Please don't flirt with my friend."

You chuckle softly. "Then tell you friend to stop being so cute." Eddie's expression flickers from shocked to surprised to smug in about two seconds flat while the rest of the Hellfire table go dead silent in shock. "Now if you boys will excuse me, I got three tires to slash. Carol does not get to pick on my little brother and get away with it."

Eddie hops back a step, smirking and bending slightly at the waist as he sweeps his arm out for you to go.

"Brother?!"

"Since when does Henderson have a goddamn sister?!"

You smirk at the chaos you've just created and Dustin groans yet again. Laughing, you pinch his cheek, but before you can get too far away, Eddie asks, "Wait. Three tires? Why not all four?"

"Because insurance will cover four tires, but not three for some reason." You shrug. "I slash only three and Carol will have to pay out of pocket."

"You're diabolical," Eddie then realizes, smiling wide. "Marry me."

"No. Nope. Not happening." Dustin starts pushing you away and you wiggle your fingers in departure. As you're passing the other table with his second group of friends, you laugh at their surprised expressions. Dustin sighs, stops, and quickly introduces you. "Guys, this is YN. She's my sister." He then shoves you aside. "Now off you go. If you need an alibi, let me know."

"Will do, baby bro." Then raising your voice so those around you can hear, you say, "And if anyone gives you any trouble, come to me. I'll set them straight."

You leave the cafeteria with your fellow peers whispering about the new information you just dropped on them, happy with the chaos you no doubt just created. You expect some to not take a liking to the fact that you're related to someone in the Hellfire Club, but you're more than ready for the backlash.

You're a little surprised that it doesn't take long to be cornered by Jason Carver and his basketball goons, but you surprise them right back by not cowering to his intensity. He calls you a freak lover and a cult member and that you don't deserve to wear the school colors. You laugh in his face, press back into his personal space and tell him the same thing you'd told Carol. You match his intensity and promise all sorts of problems for anyone messing with your brother and his friends.

"You're psycho," he realizes as he watches you go from sweet to angry and back to sweet.

"And don't you forget it," you tell him. "Your final year at Hawkins High can be easy peasy, Carver, so long as you stop being a dick. If I see or even hear about you bullying the Hellfire club, we're gonna have problems." He scoffs and you chuckle. "Don't believe me? Just keep an eye on Carol Perkins. You'll learn."

You go about your day as if it were any other day, answering questions here and there to those curious about your relationship to Dustin. The cheerleaders don't really have a problem about who you associate with and you're majorly shocked when Jason's own girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham, explains how relieved she is that someone finally stuck up for the Hellfire Club. She's heard numerous rumors about the club and a connection to satanic worship, so she's greatly relieved when you explain to her exactly what Dungeons and Dragons actually is.

Then at the end of the day, you skip to your car without a care in the world and mentally cackle when you see Carol being consoled by her bully of a boyfriend as a tow truck loads up her car with three flat tires. You catch Jason's eye then, winking as he gapes between the scene of the crime and your seemingly innocent self.

Over the next couple of weeks, you slowly let your authentic self bleed in with your cheerleader persona. Gone are the pastels, your girl next door vibe is edgier than anyone had anticipated, and you take great pleasure in the jocks not knowing what to think of you. Jason and his little band of bullies still openly sneer at you and the others they deem different, but they never make Carol's mistake of getting physical.

Then again, Jason's open hostility could be because Chrissy becomes your best friend and publicly smiles at or greets those in Hellfire Club that her boyfriend once tormented.

During Christmas break, Claudia's sister has an accident and needs help around her house. She doesn't like the idea of leaving Dustin during the holiday break, but you persuade her to go- much to Dustin's excitement- while you keep an eye on things in Hawkins. She's unsure of leaving the both of you, but you assure her everything will be okay. And then once she's gone, you and Dustin start making plans since you have the house to yourselves.

"I'm gonna see if Hellfire wants to continue our current campaign here since mom's gone."

"That's fine. I'll probably have Chrissy over for a sleepover. Poor girl needs to get out more."

"Cool."

So that's how you find yourself in your room later that evening, cleaning up and piling pillows and blankets on an air mattress on the floor so your friend has a comfortable place to sleep. Dustin and his friends have been downstairs for hours, the rambunctious bunch being louder than you anticipated, but it brought a smile to your face knowing your little brother found a place to belong.

After a while, you turn off your radio and realize it's a little too quiet.

Heading downstairs and peeking into the den, you're surprised to see Dustin collecting empty bowls and glasses, and Eddie stowing away items from the game they just played. "Hey, losers." Both look up, causing you to grin as you lean against the den archway. "Where'd everyone go?"

"Gone. Campaign ended early," your brother says. "Why? What's up?"

"Nothing. I'm about to go pick up Chrissy, some food, and a movie. I was going to see if anyone wanted to stick around, but I guess I'm too late." Dustin looks surprised that you'd include his friends and then your gaze darts to Eddie. Arching an eyebrow at him, you ask, "You in?"

"Depends. What's the movie?" He wonders.

"Goonies."

"And food?" Dustin then asks.

"Pizza."

"What about dessert?" Eddie muses.

You chuckle, making it obvious that you're looking him up and down as you bite the bottom corner of your lip. "Me hopefully."

Eddie's jaw drops open in surprise as Dustin groans. "You're disgusting!" Then out of nowhere, he produces a water bottle and spritzes it at you. "Stop hitting on my friends."

You flinch, looking at your brother in shock before both you and Eddie erupt with laughter. As Dustin continues to try and spritz you, you dodge the stream of water. "It's not my fault! You're supposed to have friends who look like gangly Wheeler and bashful Byers!" You hide behind Eddie, using him as a shield. "You're not supposed to have friends who look like Eddie or Steve or hell, even Robin. It's not fair to my hormones!"

"Your hormones need to be locked up tight!"

Laughing, you run out from behind Eddie and out of reach from Dustin and the spray bottle. "Okay. Fine. No hooking up with your friends."

"Damn," Eddie mumbles, which earns him a quick spritz of water as well. He yelps and you continue to giggle.

"Okay, okay. Serious time here," you say while calming down. "Are you boys good with pepperoni or do you have any special requests?"

"Get a meat lovers," Dustin says.

Eddie shrugs. "I'm good with whatever."

"Alright. You boys wash the dishes from your game night, and I'll be back with Chrissy and food."

Eddie watches you go with a smile, still not moving even after the front door closes at your departure. It isn't until Dustin spritzes him with water yet again does he startle from his mental musing. "What?"

"Don't even think about it. That's my sister, man."

He rolls his eyes, but smirks nonetheless. "Can you blame me? Your sister's hot, Henderson." Dustin raises the water bottle again and Eddie's hands fly up in surrender. "Chill out. Besides, it's all just fun and games. I'd be a lucky guy if your sister meant everything she said. But even if she did, I doubt she'd do that to you. Hell, I wouldn't even do that to you. You were my friend first. I get she's off limits. Whatever's going on between us is just for laughs."

"Yeah, yeah." Dustin stows the bottle away, sighing. "Help me clean up and make the living room cozy. The Goonies is her favorite movie so don't be surprised if she recites her favorite parts."

. . . .

One right after the other, you and Chrissy walk into Family Video still giggling. You had told her about Dustin spritzing you and Eddie like you were cats in heat, and she found it absolutely hilarious. Her laughter set off your laughter and you just couldn't stop.

"You girls are cutting it awfully close," Steve calls out. "We're closing in twenty minutes."

As you glance up, you see him wiping down the counter while Robin restocks the candy shelves. "Heya, Harrington. I already know what I'm looking for, so it'll only take a sec."

Chrissy is still giggling as you grab her by the wrist, tugging her towards where you know various copies of the Goonies reside. Grabbing one, you then tug her back towards the front counter.

When Steve sees what you're renting, he huffs a laugh. "Again?"

"Yep." You hand him the movie. "Chris has never seen it. I don't think Eddie has either."

"Munson?" Steve's brow furrows as he enters the movie information into your account. "Are you having a movie night or something?"

"Yeah. You and Robin should come if you're up to it," you tell him. You then glance at Robin when her head whips in your direction. "It's just gonna be me, Chris, Eddie and Dustin. After we leave here, we're gonna go pick up some pizzas."

"Dustin's mom is letting everyone hang so late at night?"

"Claudia's gone for the next few days," you tell her, grinning. When you hear the cash register make a noise, you quickly glance at Steve to see that Chrissy's paid for the movie. You roll your eyes but let her have this win. "So, are you guys in or not?"

"Uh yeah. I don't have any plans," Steve says. "Robin?"

"I'm in too. I like the Goonies."

"Excellent." You grin. "I'm picking up two pizzas- a meat lovers and pepperoni. Are you guys good with that or do you want something else?"

"I, uh, I actually like supreme," Steve says.

"Same," Robin sheepishly admits.

"That's fine. I can pick up a third," you tell them.

"And don't worry about drinks. Steve's got it," Robin says.

You laugh as Steve grumbles but assures you he's got the drinks as you and Chrissy take your leave.

. . . .

When you get back to your house, Chrissy keeps hold of the movie while grabbing her overnight bag. You grab all three pizza boxes from the back seat and then head inside with your friend following you.

"And we're back," you shout as soon as the door is closed behind you. You smile at Chrissy as she stands next to you, looking around and keeping quiet. You see Dustin round the corner and he reaches for the pizza that you pull back just out of his reach. "Nope. We have to wait for Steve and Robin. They should be here in a little bit."

Dustin smiles, happy to have Steve over, but then his eyes narrow at you. "I see what you're doing, inviting the people you think are attractive."

Chrissy giggles as you smile at him. "It's a wet dream come true. Right, Munson?" You then direct the question at him, winking when he rounds the corner.

"Oh my god!" Dustin groans, grossed out. Chrissy squeaks next to you and you glance at her to see the apples of her cheeks tinting red. "Look! You're even grossing out your friend," Dustin then says.

Laughing, you hold all three pizza boxes in one hand and use your free arm to sling around her shoulders. "Relax, Chris. Eddie knows I'm only messing with him. And besides, Dustin already strictly forbade me from hooking up with his older friends."

Dustin grabs the boxes from you, marching off towards the kitchen. As soon as he's out of earshot, Chrissy asks, "So what's going to happen when your brother no longer cares about you hooking up with them?"

"Yeah, YN, what then?" Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Your ass is mine, Munson. That's what's gonna happen."

Chrissy barks out a laugh, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the following giggles. Eddie laughs as well and then gestures for Chrissy to follow him. "Come on, Cunningham, let's get the movie all set up."

As Chrissy follows Eddie, you walk into the kitchen to find your brother pulling down plates. His expression is schooled so you don't know how he's currently feeling and it makes your heart ache just a little to know that you possibly hurt him by insinuating you'd hook up with his friends when he didn't approve of it.

"Hey," you call out softly. Dustin glances at you, his answering smile forced. Sighing softly, you step further into the kitchen until you're side by side with him and gather napkins. "You know I'd never actually hook-up with any of your friends, right? I wouldn't do that to you."

"You wouldn't?" His skepticism does you in and you smile sadly at him before turning to pull him into a hug.

"No, kid, I wouldn't. You come first. Always. And if you say Eddie is off limits, then he's off limits. Promise."

"M'kay." He pulls back then, smirking. "Steve and Robin are too. Don't think I didn't hear you mention them earlier."

Laughing, you tug on one of his curls. "Fine. Steve and Robin too."

"Steve and Robin too what?" The voice startles both you and Dustin, and you turn to see the two in question standing in the kitchen archway.

You shrug. "That you, Robin, and Eddie are officially in the no bone zone." Steve and Robin's eyes widen, and Dustin giggles at them while you grin unabashedly at them. "I'm a teenage girl, Harrington. Of course I noticed how hot my little brother's friends are. He was just setting down some ground rules." The two continue to gape at you and you roll your eyes. "Calm down. I'm sure it's not the first time a girl admitted to finding you attractive."

"No, but it is a first for me," Robin mutters.

"Yeah," you sigh. "People suck. But if you wanna hear it again, you're hot, Buckley. Own it."

As Robin perks up, Steve chuckles at her. "Now that our attractiveness is settled, we were promised pizza and a movie."

"Yeah. Of course." Then raising your voice, you say, "Chrissy, Eddie, come and grab a plate!"

Everyone crams into the kitchen, grabbing a plate to load up pizza slices and then grabbing a can of Cola from the bag that Steve had brought. You all take your food and drink into the living room, everyone settling down in whatever space they can find. Dustin ends up on the floor with Robin, using the coffee table to their advantage. Steve takes the armchair and you end up between Eddie and Chrissy on the sofa.

Though you've seen the Goonies numerous times, it never fails to make you laugh. And then when Sloth's introduction comes up, you can't help blurting, "That's the character that reminds me of Dustin." Your friends all chuckle and you end up with a throw pillow to the face in retaliation from your little brother.

You end up silently reciting Chunk's confession to the Fratelli's, earning a chuckle from Eddie who'd been watching you. There are a few other scenes that you mumble along to, but for the most part you remain quiet so the others can enjoy the movie. And then by the time it's over, you're happy to hear that everyone enjoyed it- Eddie included since he was the most skeptical of liking it.

You offer for Robin to spend the night with you and Chrissy, but unfortunately, she has family obligations she has to deal with the following day.

By the time school is back in session, you've toned down the obvious flirty comments to Eddie and distanced yourself a bit from those Dustin had befriended first. He completely understands your reasoning and there's no hard feelings.

Instead, you spend most of your time with Chrissy who has decided to take a break from Jason. The school's top athlete didn't take too kindly to his girlfriend wanting some space from him, so he took out his frustrations on you.

Well, on those close to you since he knew it wouldn't be good for his image to be seen harassing a girl.

You and Chrissy, along with a few other friends, are eating lunch a few tables down from the Hellfire table when you hear a commotion. Glancing towards it, you're not surprised to find Jason and his closest friends standing at the end of the Hellfire table being the ones responsible.

Whatever's going on, you can't hear but can see the frustration on the faces of your friends. The jocks, however, are smug as can be and laughing among themselves.

Then all of a sudden, Jason speaks loud for all to hear. "I got fifty bucks," he reaches into his back pocket, pulling free his wallet, "that not one girl in this cafeteria would willingly kiss any of you freaks."

The bet laid out before the students of Hawkins High is meant to embarrass those in Hellfire, but the boys are not known for backing down. Immediately they look to Mike and Lucas- two boys who are known to have girlfriends- but when they glance at Jane and Max, Max scowls at Lucas and flips them off.

The jocks laugh and just as they're about to embarrass Hellfire even more, Dustin stands up. The cafeteria quietens and the jocks grin. "YN!" Your brother calls out to you.

"What?" You call back, smirking as everyone's gaze darts between the two of you.

"You remember that thing I forbid you from doing?"

"Maybe!" Next to you, Chrissy giggles. She knows very well what Dustin forbid you from doing because she was the unfortunate soul that you whined to frequently about it.

"Well, I'm lifting the rule for thirty seconds. Make them count!"

The jocks frown as your leering gaze slides to Eddie. He arches an eyebrow at you, and you laugh before standing up. Immediately, Eddie pushes back from the table, still seated in his chair, and the rest of those in Hellfire are just as confused as the jocks.

"What the hell is going on?" Jason asks as you near.

"I just became fifty bucks richer," you tell him, snatching the crisp bill from his fingers. Then continuing on towards Eddie, you plop yourself sideways on his lap while loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. "Told you your ass was gonna be mine."

You end up smothering Eddie's laughter when you kiss him, ignoring the sudden wolf whistles and loud ruckus the Hellfire club members are making by pounding their fists on the table. You groan when his hand squeezes your thigh and then whimper when he licks into your mouth.

You're not sure how much time has passed when you feel a hand on your shoulder, pushing you away from Eddie's mouth. "Okay, okay. Break it up. You officially grossed out Jason and myself."

You laugh at your brother's words, but you can't tear your gaze away from Eddie's kiss swollen lips. With one hand still cradling his jaw, you let your thumb swipe just beneath his bottom lip. "Knew you'd be a good kisser, Munson."

"Right back at 'ya, sweetheart."

"Gross." You glance at Dustin, watching as his nose wrinkles. "You can get off his lap now."

"Or.." you trail off, holding up the fifty dollar bill, "you can take this money and let me make out with your friend for the rest of the day."

Eddie snorts, but your brother actually takes a moment to think about it. Knowing he's going to cave, you hold the money out further to him. "Only making out?"

"Only making out," you assure him.

"Fine. Whatever." He snatches the money from you. "But not in the cafeteria. I'm still trying to eat."

"Right. Got it!" You stand up, holding out a hand for Eddie. "Let's go, Munson! I'm pretty sure the back of your van is private enough."

Laughing, Eddie takes your hand and shrugs at his gaping friends. "What? Who am I to deny a pretty girl?"

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[inklore]

SEX WITH JORDAN IS TWO VERY DIFFERENT EXPERIENCES.

Solely depending on which form they shift into during or before.

When they're in their female form, they’re a top with a touch of submission, like the minute you whisper in their ear what you want to do to them, they’re switching to that submissive side. 

They’re letting you climb on top of them, letting you take complete control. Letting you kiss down their body, smiling down at you when your teeth bite into the flesh of their tits. Your tongue smoothing over the mark you’ve just made.

Sucking on the skin, knowing they’ll have to walk around for weeks with your mark on them. They'll complain about it, but you catch them smiling at in the mirror when they’re getting dressed. 

Letting you make them come against your mouth twice before they can’t stand it anymore and they’re groaning, pulling you up by the cheeks to kiss you with passion, teeth, and tongue. Moaning at their own taste as they push your back into the mattress. 

The roles quickly switched. 

Jordan never passes up the chance to be in complete control. To have their fingers between your thighs, watching the way your body arches and rolls to the pleasure they’re giving you as their thumb rubs your clit and their fingers fuck your pussy, deep, and rhythm with the buck of your hips. Their mouth on your neck, moving across your chest to close their lips around your nipple. 

They feel almost powerful with the knowledge—with seeing how they can make you feel—that they can bring out those weak-pleasure-fueled noises from you, that if they curl their fingers, you’ll be clinging to them, begging and pleading, breathing into their mouth like it’s your last one, like if they don’t let you come, you’ll go insane. Like you’re their saint, and you only need absolution from them. 

And when they have their cunt pressed to yours, palm pressed under your chin, against your neck, to keep your eyes on them, their words come out heavy and heated, “it’s only me, right? Only I can make you feel like this? Can make you come this hard?”, your answer wrapped around a pretty moan, fingers digging into their hips to press them harder against you—they feel invincible. 

But when they’re in their male form, it’s different. They’re different. They lose that dominant edge and shift into something more lenient. Something akin to a service top, with submission hanging at the cusp. 

They’ll still lace their fingers with yours and press them into the mattress, making you feel like they’re the ones in control. Like they could do whatever they want to your body and know you’d love it and ask for more. 

But deep down, you both know you’re the one in control. 

You’re the one that’s driving them completely insane. That they want to please. Make come over and over until your thighs are wet and sticky, and they lap it up with their tongue. Use the head of their cock to gather the slick at your entrance and rub it against your clit. Make you come one more time just by using the tip of their cock. 

Your begs for them to stick it in, “please, Jordan, please,” one of the prettiest things they’ve heard. 

Making them smile against your lips as they squeeze your chin between your thumb and pointer to bring your mouth up to theirs. 

“Anything for you,” they say against your open mouth as they slip their cock into your heat. The slow stretch makes your nails dig into the side of their arm. 

The thrusts and speed of their hips all dependent on what you want. What you moan and whimper into their skin, mouth. How your body moves against there’s, underneath it, with it. How your pussy squeezes them. 

“Come for me, one more time, I promise,” the wet squelch of their cock fucking you matched with the fingers drawing circles against your clit undoing you. 

And when you switch positions, when you take the reigns and wrap your lips around the tip of their cock, letting your tongue lap up your own come, that’s when that submissive side comes out. 

The whimpers heaved out of Jordan’s lungs, the push of their hips off the bed, driving their cock deeper into your throat. Their brows pinched together, eyes glossy, needy. Fingers on your cheek, your head, in the bed sheets. 

It’s fucking beautiful. 

They’re fucking beautiful. 

“Let me fuck your throat. Can I–fuck–can I fuck your throat, baby?” 

“Please.”

“Yes, please.” 

Their fingers dig into the side of your skull, the closer they are to coming. But even that’s soft. The thrusts fucking up into your mouth are hurried, fast, and hard, but still softer than they could be. Still gentle in that careful way of Jordan wanting you to enjoy this just as much as they are. 

When they come down your throat, they watch you swallow. Their eyes watching your throat move, lips twitching in a soft smile. A hand cupping the back of your neck to bring you against their chest to lay. A finger under your chin to lift your head far enough for them to lean down and kiss you. 

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