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slasherscream · 5 months

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She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.

A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.

gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez

“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders.

“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.

Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now?

“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.

He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next.

Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it.

Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place.

“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again.

He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart.

“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.

It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring.

You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.

“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.

“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says.

He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp.

“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him.

“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes.

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”

“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does.

It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.

You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you.

“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.

You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours.

You bite him a little harder.

Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.

You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do.

“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.

“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him.

You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.

You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to.

You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that.

Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan.

You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought.

A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.

“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go.

They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces.

All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look.

“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled.

“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!”

You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero.

You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table.

During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time.

You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways.

‘Bimbo.’

‘Airhead.’

‘Slut.’

Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.

‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’

You stopped venting.

When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends.

People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest.

You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.

Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home.

You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground.

When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears.

It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all.

“Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says.

“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.

“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.”

You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting.

“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice.

You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement.

“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.

“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.

“That means that he killed the wife!”

“How do you figure?”

You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day.

Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say.

Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read.

You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.”

Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart.

Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment.

Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt.

It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk.

“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you.

You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?”

Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”

“Secondary super power.”

“Connecting all the dots?”

“Connecting all the dots, yeah.”

“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before.

“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.

“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped.

“What?!”

“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”

You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university.

You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door.

“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to.

“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd.

“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.”

You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place.

You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.

“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran.

Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose.

“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.”

Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-”

Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up.

“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.

“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”

Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!”

“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.

You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?”

“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong.

“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.

“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-”

“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.”

You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too.

He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you.

“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.

“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?”

“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?”

“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse.

“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly.

“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?”

“Why are you so mad?”

“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!”

“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”

Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you.

“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?”

“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.

“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”

Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.”

“Oh.” You say.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you.

You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews.

You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted.

“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes.

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.

“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!”

“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.

“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.

“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”

“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.

You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.”

You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.

“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.

“With fucking Peter?”

“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.

“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse.

“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes.

“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.

“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.

“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.”

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing.

“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk.

“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin.

“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time.

You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.”

“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this.

“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”

Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?

“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually.

“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work.

“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?”

“I should probably finish up a few more papers-”

“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed.

“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see.

You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees.

“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.

You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”

“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh.

“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.”

“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final.

“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob.

“Huh?” You look up from your notes.

“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.

“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be.

“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips.

“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page.

“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?”

“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”

“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”

“Nope. Property damage.”

“Fuck me!”

You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.

Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea.

Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”

“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.

“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible.

“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book.

Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?”

“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually.

“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.

“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow.

“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.

The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.

“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath.

“Oh.” Jordan says.

“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”

“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive.

“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.”

“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you.

You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.

“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question.

“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet.

“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered.

“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.

“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again.

“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble.

You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all.

You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly.

“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?”

“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck.

You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder.

You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him.

“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone.

“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.

“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.

“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.

“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly.

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.

“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles.

“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily.

“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush.

“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat.

“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink.

“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits.

“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.

“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.

“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile.

You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy.

“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.

“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers.

“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious.

“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps.

“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks.

“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?”

“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls.

“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.

You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.”

“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs.

“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-”

The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.

You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull.

You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you?

Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever.

Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story.

“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter.

“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend.

“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.

“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down.

“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.

“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.

“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.”

“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.

You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down.

You almost hadn’t come to the party.

You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.

So here you were.

You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one.

At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him.

And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li.

It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning.

Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it.

Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.

You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.

“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile.

“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.

“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?”

“Huh?” You blink, confused.

“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music.

“Nothing!”

“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.

“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.

“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal.

The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin.

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.”

“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face.

You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive?

“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you.

You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky.

“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.”

“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.

“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.

“Or something?” Jordan echoes.

“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him.

“How do you figure that?” You laugh.

“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says.

“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.

“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor.

The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive.

You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds.

This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch.

Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways.

“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something.

“What?”

“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group.

“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly.

“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with.

The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing.

As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.

“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.

“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk.

You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party.

There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all.

You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough-

You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan.

You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.

You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry.

You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop.

He just blinks up at you, owlish.

"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison.

Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are.

As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life.

Jordan shifts.

You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love.

You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever.

It has to be.

You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler.

But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern.

And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back.

You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started.

So you run.

Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly.

Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough?

Why did you fall in love with them?

A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you.

You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further.

It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.

You burst into tears again.

“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break.

She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up.

“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk.

“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away.

“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms.

The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs.

“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly.

“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!”

“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.

“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room.

“What are you fucking talking about-”

“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.

You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes.

Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again.

You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly.

“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-”

“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”

You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer.

“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word.

“What?”

Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.”

“I’m me?” You echo.

“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up.

“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb.

“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.”

“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.

“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours.

“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough.

You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.”

“When?!”

“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap.

“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back.

You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne.

“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again.

In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.

Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.”

“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.”

“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you.

“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?”

“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows.

“Three weeks ago I heard-”

“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.

“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!”

“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”

“Hot.”

“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”

“Shut up and be my everything.”

“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it.

And it’s perfect.

A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader #hey bee are you ever gonna do a non force field power having reader?? great question! answer is no adjkl #forcefields are THE coolest thing you can have #aside from the song she likes a boy i was thinking of hate that i love you rihanna and neyo while writing #if you see a fucking grammer error point it out i need to get this posted so i can MOVE ON adjkl this one has been kicking my ASS

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calumfmu · 7 months

Text

The King's Reign

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words

cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni

You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.

When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.

You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.

Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.

A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.

“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”

Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.

“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.

You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”

She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.

“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”

You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.

“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”

You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.

“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”

She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”

“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.

Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?

You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.

Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”

Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”

“Still do.”

“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”

“King Steve.”

“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”

You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.

“Please, Yn.”

Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.

“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.

“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”

“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.

“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”

Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.

Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.

You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.

You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.

You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.

But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.

Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”

“Sure.”

“No.”

The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.

The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.

“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.

Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.

“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”

“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.

“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.

“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”

You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.

At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.

“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”

The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.

Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.

“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.

Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”

Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.

“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”

The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.

He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.

He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.

“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.

She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.

“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.

“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.

You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.

The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.

What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.

You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.

You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.

“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve!”

“Whaaat?”

Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.

“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.

“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.

“Steve…”

Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.

Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.

You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.

“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.

He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.

“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.

You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?

“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”

Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.

“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.

“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.

“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”

You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.

“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.

“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.

“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”

His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.

She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.

Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.

Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.

He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.

He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.

After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.

Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.

You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”

The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.

Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.

As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.

“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”

She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.

“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.

“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.

“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.

You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.

You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.

You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.

“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”

“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.

“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.

“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”

You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.

You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”

Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."

“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.

“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”

“You know.”

He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.

“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.

You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.

“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”

Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.

His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”

Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.

“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”

He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.

A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.

“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.

You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.

Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.

You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.

“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”

You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.

You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”

Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.

It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?

Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.

Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.

“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.

“Huh?”

He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.

“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”

Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.

“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.

He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.

His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.

He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.

Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.

“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.

He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.

Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.

This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.

His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.

“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.

You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”

The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.

Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.

His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.

“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.

“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.

“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.

He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.

You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.

Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.

“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.

Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.

His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.

“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”

“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.

"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.

The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.

As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.

"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.

His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.

"'M just getting started, my love."

He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.

It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.

Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.

Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.

His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.

"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.

"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.

A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.

His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.

He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.

His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.

"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.

His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.

"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."

You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.

"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."

Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.

"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.

"You're taking it so good, my love."

His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.

Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.

That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.

You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.

"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."

He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.

"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.

You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.

"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.

He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.

He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.

"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."

Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.

"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.

"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."

Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.

You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.

"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.

"Is that a promise?"

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