my words shoot to kill when i'm mad (i have a lot of regrets about that)
based on this request
wc: 2.3k
pairing: frank langdon x wife!reader
summary: after weeks of growing tension, one bad night has you sleeping on the couch and frank regretting every single word he said to you. when he sees you enter the er the next morning he realizes some things need to change.
c.warning: hurt-confort; kind of angsty (maybe ?); descriptions of minor injury (reader sprained her wrist and hit her head); mentions of insecurities and accusations of cheating; mel being a sweetheart.
a.n.: first time writing for langdon. let me know how i did !! also just a heads up, i'm closing requests until i catch up with all he reqs i got the past few days. stay tuned to know when i'll be opening them again !!
masterlist | requests
well then, if i’m so exhausting and so difficult, i’ll just get out of your way.
those were the last words frank heard from you before you closed the door of your shared bedroom behind you with a loud, final thud. the sound didn’t end the argument, it just punctuated a weeks-long buildup of tension that he didn’t know how to diffuse.
he stood in the middle of your bedroom, still in his work clothes, hair a mess of tangles after he’d anxiously ran his fingers through it one too many times. and he felt it then; the sudden, suffocating weight of the silence.
he didn’t mean it. of course he didn’t mean any of what he’d said. he doesn’t find you exhausting. it’s the world that feels like it’s choking him; the endless hours at the hospital, the growing tension with robby, the feeling that he’s constantly plugging holes in a dam destined to burst.
it is all so tiring that when he comes home, he lacks the strength to discuss any of it. he just feels this fatigue wearing his bones. and last night… last night he let it weaponize his tongue.
you slept on the couch, and he knows this because he checked in the middle of the night, after having spent the last two hours twisting in bed, feeling the coldness and emptiness of the spot where you were supposed to be laying. he hovered in the hallway, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your shoulders under a thin throw blanket. he wanted to wake you, to pull you into his arms and apologize until his voice gave out. but a mix of pride and sheer, bone-deep weariness had kept him frozen in place until he gave up and returned to the empty bed.
hours later, when his alarm went off, signaling it was time to get ready for yet another exhausting shift, the couch was already empty and you had left for work without saying goodbye. the apartment felt hollow, the air still tasting of the bitter things said the night before.
now, as frank clocks in, the emergency department welcomes him with a dull roar of activity. he goes through the motions with a practiced, clinical detachment. he checks charts, consults on a fractured femur of south fifteen, and argues with insurance over a cardiac transfer. but, all the while, his mind is a fractured screen, constantly flickering back to the look on your face when you walked away from him last night.
in a moment of calm, he finds himself leaning against the nurse’s station, staring blankly at a blank monitor.
he couldn’t exactly pinpoint when things started to go south between you and him. when he tried to find the exact moment, he was faced with more memories of fighting and cold remarks than he liked. for weeks now, you’d been distant, sighing with exasperation every time he called you to let you know he’d have to spend a couple more hours on the clock.
last night was the final straw for you. when he has returned home, he’d found the dinner table set with only one single plate and one empty glass. you had already eaten and he could hear you padding around the upstairs bathroom, probably getting ready for bed.
he’d been about to call out your name, wondering why you couldn’t have just waited for him, when he saw the small calendar hanging from the fridgeç, when he noticed the date, the hand-drawn heart shape around it.
your anniversary.
he’d missed one the most important days of the year. he hadn’t even texted you all day, his phone forgotten in the back of his locker.
you had every reason to be mad at him. hell, he was completely pissed at himself for allowing that to happen in the first place.
“dr. langdon?”
mel’s voice comes soft, almost hesitant. frank turns to her immediately, snapping out of the spiral of self-dread and doubt.
lately, mel’s been the source of your sharpest barbs. ever since you saw her name on frank’s phone a few weeks ago the insecurity had taken root. and even though frank tried to explain that she’s just his coworker, one of the few people in the pitt who still considered him a friend, to you, she represents the world that steals your husband away.
“mel,” frank says, voice raspy. “what do you have?”
“the mvc in bay six is stable,” she says, her eyes downcast as she adjusts the pen in her pocket. she notices the dark circles under her friend’s eyes, the way his hands linger on the edge of the desk. “you… you look tired, dr. langdon.”
“rough night at home,” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
and because she’s the person he has grown to trust the most in the hospital, frank tells her about your fight, about the horrible things he said to you and the hurt look in your eyes as you suggested, one more time, that maybe he’d found someone better out there.
mel nods slowly, her expression sympathetic but guarded. “it’s hard for the people waiting at home. they don’t see the “why”, the reason we do this every day despite how bad it may get at times. they just see the absence.”
“yeah,” frank sighs. “i think i’m loosing my “why”, mel.”
as the hours pass and the afternoon shift starts transitioning into the evening rush dana announces a new incoming patient.
“eta five minutes. structural accident at a local elementary school. patient has a right-side wrist deformity, several deep lacerations, and a brief loss of consciousness,” she recites. “vitals are stable, but paramedics report significant nausea.”
frank doesn’t think much of it at first. school accident usually means a teacher or a staff member, and even if it was student the prospect didn’t seem to tragic to panic. after receiving robby’s —very reluctant— green-light to take the case, his mind automatically starts calculating the steps for a concussion protocol and a possible reduction of the wrist.
after a few minutes, the doors swing pen, letting a gust of cold air in as the paramedics push the gurney through. frank steps forward, ready to lead.
that’s when he sees the coat.
it’s the caramel-colored wool coat he bought you for christmas, the one you complained was way too fancy for school but wore every single day anyway.
his heart doesn’t just skip; it seems to plummet into his stomach, leaving him breathless. still, he manages to walk up to the gurney, your name falling off his lips in a quiet murmur.
you’re lying on the gurney, eyes closed tight against the overhead fluorescent lights. there is a bandage taped haphazardly over your temple, soaked through with a bloom of crimson. your right arm is cradled in a temporary splint, and your skin is looking terrifyingly ashen.
“frank?” robby calls, stepping up to his side as he notices the deep frown in langdon’s face, the rigidness in his shoulders.
“i’ll take care of it, robby,” he says, voice steady as he tries to hide the slight trembling of his hands.
“i think it’s better if i take…” robby starts, sensing the personal stakes.
“no,” frank interrupts. it’s a quiet, immovable command. he steps into the space next to the gurney, his eyes locking on your face, cataloguing every scratch and hint of pain. he reaches out, hand hovering over your cheeks for a fraction of a second before the doctor in him takes over. “i’m doing the intake.”
frank walks close to the gurney as they move you to the closest open bay. once you’re inside, frank immediately dims the lights down, knowing the brightness must be killing you right now.
he leans over you, his shadow falling across your face.
“hey, look at me. it’s me, frank. open your eyes for me, baby.”
your eyes flutter,and when you finally manage to look at him, your pupils are sluggish.
“frank?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “everything’s… everything is moving.”
“i know. i know. you hit your head pretty bad,” he says, his voice dropping to that soft, rhythmic tone he uses with the frightened children he encounters in the er, but with an underlying current of intimacy.
he begins checking your vitals, his hands moving with surgical precision even as his heart hammers against his ribs.
“tell me what happened, baby.”
“the… the supply shelves in the workroom,” you breathe, wincing as he gently palpates the area near the cut in your forehead. “they weren’t bolted- i... i reached for a box of crafting materials and the whole thing just… fell on me. and i tried to catch it.”
“you tried to catch a steal shelf with your wrist,” frank murmurs, jaw tightening. he moves to your arm, carefully undoing the paramedic’s splint.
your let out a sharp, hissed breath of pain, and frank immediately stops. he looks over at mel, who has been standing quietly on the other side of the bed for barely a minute, holding a dose of pain medication.
“go ahead,” he says softly.
mel moves in. she is so quiet you barely notice her until she’s right there.
“i’m going to give you something for the pain and the nausea, okay?” she whispers to you. her voice is like velvet, no trace of the sharpness and meanness you imagined. “it might make you feel a little sleepy, but it will help us treat your wrist without hurting you more.”
you look up at her, vision blurry. this is the woman you thought was stealing your husband’s time. you expected someone bold, someone flirtatious. instead, you see a girl who looks like she’d apologize to a chair if she bumped into it. she works with a quiet, humble efficiency that speaks of deep respect for both frank and her job.
“thank you,” you mutter as the medicine begins to dull the sharp edges of the pain.
as she steps back, smiling kindly at you, the jealousy that has been rotting in your gut for weeks now simply… evaporates. and you quickly realize this girl can’t be a threat, she’s just trying to survive the same exhausting world frank is.
an hour later, the er has finally settled. you’re tucked in a private curtained area, the lights dimmed to accommodate your concussion. your wrist is set and encased in a temporary fiberglass cast and the cut on your forehead is closed with five of the neatest stitches donnie has ever sewn.
mel comes back into the room and waves at you before saying, “the good news is you won’t need surgery. a simple cast and a few weeks of rest shouldbe enough. also, the scan results came back and they look good. it doesn't seem like the hit did any irreparable damage inside your head”
“that’s good to hear,” you whisper.
“that’s great to hear,” corrects frank. he’s now sitting on the edge of your bed, still in his scrubs, but he’s finally shed the blue gloves. he looks exhausted, but his eyes are clear and fixed entirely on you.
“you shouldn’t be here,” you say softly, the grogginess from the meds making your voice feel heavy. “you must have other patients.”
“i’m not going anywhere,” frank says.
“oh, i can finish up the girl in south twelve. that way you can stay here,” mel offers suddenly.
frank looks up at her, smiling. “that’d be great, mel. thank you.”
“no problem, dr. langdon.”
when she leaves the room you turn to frank ,frowning slightly but you lips are pulling onto a lopsided grin.
“dr. langdon?” you tease.
“i know.” he sighs. “i have a bottle of champagne reserved for the day she refers to me by my first name.”
you huff a laugh, immediately hissing in pain as the pressure makes your head pound.
frank reaches out, taking your uninjured hand and bringing it to his lips. he kisses your knuckles, his eyes closing automatically. “i’m sorry, honey.”
“it’s okay, frank. i needed a laugh after the day i’ve had-”
“for last night,” he interrupts, his voice thick. “for everything. for the way i spoke to you, the way i’ve been acting and for making you believe this place matters more than you do.”
your lips tug into a sad smile. “we both said very mean things last night, frank.”
you think of the accusation you threw in his direction, which doesn’t make any sense now that you’ve met the source of your past insecurity.
“i was wrong about a lot of things,” you admit. “but i was just… i felt so lonely.”
“i know,” he whispers, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “i let you feel like that, and that’s on me. but i’m going to change that.”
“how?”
“well, first of all, i’m taking tomorrow off,” he says. “and the day after. i’m going to take care of you.”
“you’d do that?” you ask, and he can hear it in your voice. the remaining traces of insecurity. he can hear himself screaming at you, lying about you being exhausting, and it shatters his heart.
he lets out a soft, broken sigh and kisses your forehead. “you aren’t difficult, baby. i should’ve never said those mean things. i love you, okay? you’re the reason i check the clock every few minutes, praying that it speeds so i can leave this place and come back home to you.”
he leans in, mindful of your head, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
“i love you,” he repeats, as if to make sure you truly believe him. "and i want to take care of you."
outside the curtain, the pitt is still a wild—yet organized—chaos, but here… here’s just you and him and the love you share.
“i love you too,” you murmur, resting your forehead against frank’s. he smiles fondly at you.
“come on, love. let’s get you home,” he whispers. “i think we’ve both had enough of this place for today.”
pairing: singlemom!reader x girldad!spencer reid
summary: it's the night of your daughter's dance recital and all it takes is to se eher on stage for everything to shift. for the three of you to become a family.
c.warning: fem!reader, reader is a mom, mentions of the kid's biological dad, spencer being a die hard girl dad (as always, if i missed something, let me know!)
a/n: (based on this request) first request ever !! i'm so nervous omg. hope you like it !!
hope you enjoy it <3 likes & reblogs are appreciated !!
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“do you have everything?” spencer asks for the millionth time, pacing around the living room as he scans the space. “the camera. did you take the camera?”
“yes, babe,” you answer with a soft smile. “it’s still in my bag, where i put it the first time you asked. two hours ago.”
spencer sighs. “i’m sorry. i’m nervous.”
“spence, relax. you’re not the one going on that stage tonight.”
“no, it’s my little girl. that makes me even more anxious.”
your heart swells the same way it always does when he refers to your daughter like that. like she’s just as much his family as she is yours.
“what if she doesn’t see us in the crowd and thinks we forgot?”
you lay a hand on his forearm, halting his nervous pacing. “we’ll be in the front row, and you’re wearing a shirt with our faces on it. i think she’ll see you.”
he runs his hands over his chest, smiling proudly at the t-shirt he had made weeks ago. right in the center is a picture of the three of you, your little girl smiling broadly as she poses with her hands in a heart shape.
“she looks adorable in this.”
“i still can’t believe you wore that to work today,” you tease with a smile. “and i can’t believe morgan didn’t say anything about it.”
“oh, no. he did. he bullied me all morning. but i already ordered one for him with a picture of my face. just imagine. this face, huge, right in the middle of his chiselled chest.” spencer gives you one of his characteristic grins, and you bark a laugh.
finally, he takes your hand in his and you leave for your little girl’s school.
there are two free seats on the front row when you arrive, as you promised spencer. he practically runs for them, even though they’re reserved for you. they even have a name tag with your daughter’s name on it.
as you wait for the show to start, you take the chance to look at spencer, really look at him. he’s reading the program (which isn’t very long since it’s just two classes acting tonight), and his face lights up when he sees your girl’s name on the list of performers. he turns the pamphlet to you, pointing at the name proudly and you have to bite the insides of your cheeks to avoid crying.
tonight’s not the first time he attends one of this little functions with you. it is, however, the first time he does so as more than mommy’s friend, the first time he attends as your baby girl’s dad.
two nights ago, as you tucked her into bed, she asked: “when is dad coming home?”
at first you thought she meant the man who gave you a positive test and then disappeared in the middle of the night. your heart froze, unsure how to respond. but the next morning she asked again, this time pointing at one of the pictures on your bedside table, the one where spencer and you appear hugging each other with the brightest smiles ever on your faces.
“that’s dad?” you asked, your throat tight, needing to be sure.
she nodded eagerly, hugging the frame. “of course it’s dad! spencer. dad!”
you haven’t told him yet. you want your daughter to say it first. and, truth be told, some part of your is a bit scared of his reaction. you don’t want to see even the slightest hint of fear or rejection in his eyes.
the lights dim, soft classical music begins, and then… there she is. in a pink tutu, cheap tiara gleaming on top of her head, she leads the choreography from the front row. the second her eyes land on you and spencer, she beams, waving quickly before spinning and leaping with her classmates.
beside you, spencer holds the camera right under his nose, making sure he gets everything on tape, but also wanting to enjoy the show live. he smiles the whole time, eyes slightly glassy. and when he turns to look at you, for a brief moment, you see it in there, the pride, the love he holds for your little girl.
when the show ends, both of you are crying. the emotion too much to hide.
“she’s really good,” spencer whispers, squeezing your hand tight.
“yeah, she is.” you sniff, wiping tears away. “thank you for being here, spence. it means a lot. to both of us.”
his frown is brief before a soft smile replaces it. “of course. i wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
soon, parents filter toward the exit to pick up their kids, and you catch spencer bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager.
“there she is!” he grins, spotting her as she steps out, wearing her tutu over her blue sweatpants, tiara in hand.
she sprints toward you both, and you crouch low, scooping her into your arms.
“you were amazing, baby!” you tell her.
“i saw you cry, mamma.” she pouts.
“oh, those were happy tears, baby. don’t you worry. i’m so proud of you, princess.”
“i’m not a princess, mamma. i’m the queen,” she corrects, holding up her plastic crown.
“right, sorry. you were amazing, your highness.”
her frown eases and she turns to spencer, launching herself into his arms. he spins her once, both of them laughing, and presses a kiss to her cheek.
“you did so well, bug. i’m so proud of you.”
“so… can we have breakfast for dinner?” she grins mischievously, taking advantage of all the praise and attention she’s receiving.
you exchange a knowing smile with spencer. she may be young, but she’s far too clever already.
“of course, baby,” he says warmly. “if mommy agrees.”
“oh, you know i love breakfast for dinner,” you add. “besides, our little queen nailed it tonight. that deserves a prize.”
the three of you start walking to the car, when a gust of wind hits your faces. you shiver, immediately turning to your daughter to make sure she's wearing her coat. but spencer's already there, kneeling in front of her, wrapping his own purple scarf around her neck.
“we can’t have the queen getting sick. who would rule over us then?” he tucks the long strands of the scarf into the pockets of her jacket.
“thanks, dad,” she says with a kiss to his cheek, oblivious to the way her words hit him like a tidal wave.
spencer stays frozen, eyes wide, until you lay a hand on his shoulder. his gaze meets yours, and you see no fear, no hesitation. only pride.
you smile softly. “come on, spence. let’s go home.”
dinner is a blur of pancakes and laughter. your daughter crowns you with her tiara, declaring you her co-queen, while spencer listens as she recounts her day at school like every word from her is sacred.
later, he takes bedtime duty, his voice and her giggles drifting from the bathroom as you clean up the kitchen.
when you’re almost done, warm hands circle your waist. spencer rests his head on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your neck that makes you shiver.
“she called me dad again,” he whispers, his voice bubbling with joy.
“she did a few weeks ago too, you know” you admit, turning in his arms. “while you were in los angeles.”
“really?” his grip tightens slightly.
“yeah. i didn't tell you because… because i wanted her to be the one to give you the good news. and also, i was a little bit scared.”
you turn around but keep him close to your body, your back against the counter and your chest so close to his you feel every breath he takes.
“of what?” he asks in a low voice, his breath barely a caress against your lips.
“of you not wanting it. not wanting this.”
he laughs softly, disbelieving. “are you serious? our little girl just made my day, love. i’m the happiest man alive.”
there he goes again. our girl.
“seriously?”
he nods, grinning wide. “i have the most gorgeous woman on earth as my girlfriend. i get to go to bed and wake up next to her every day. and her daughter, who, by the way, is the coolest kid i've ever met, just called me dad. multiple times!”
your hands fly to his cheeks as you kiss him, unable to contain yourself anymore, his smile breaking between each press of lips. he’s dizzy with happiness, still reeling from the night’s magic.
“forgot to mention,” he murmurs against your mouth, “my girl’s also the best kisser ever. i really did hit the jackpot.”
pairing: jordan li x gn!reader
summary: (based on this request) you're good at a lot of stuff. flirting? yeah, not among your many mastered skills.
c.warning: they/them pronouns for jordan’s and reader, reader is extremely clumsy and oblivious, brink being a little bitch, bit suggestive towards the ending.
a/n: sorry this took so long :( i was having so much fun writing this omg i even thought of turning it into a longer series. let me know what you think!! anyways, hope you like it !!
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ever since you can recall, you've done everything within your reach to be the best at everything.
a star student, an incredible cook, an even better dancer.
whatever you set your mind to do, you need to excel at. there are no exceptions.
well, that's a lie.
there is one exception.
you're a terrible flirt.
and, like with any other skill that you've wanted to perfect, you've had your fair share of practice. with help from your friends you've been to a small, but empirically relevant, number of dates. all of them ending in terrible disaster.
it's something about social cues. or the fact that you always seem to be either too enthusiastic or too cold and dry. laughing too loud at a joke that wasn't even that funny. talking non-stop about your first pet and then describing in grave detail how they died.
maybe you just weren't made for dating. maybe you had been cursed with the inability to make eye contact with an attractive person for more than two seconds without your brain melting.
“i'm telling you, you need to stop bringing mr. whiskers up every time a guy hits on you,” emma groans next to you.
you're walking to your dorm together after class, going over everything you did wrong at last friday's party.
“he wasn't hitting on me.” you frown.
“he totally was. he had that smirk on his face, you know. the you're coming home with me tonight one.”
“no, he didn't.” you scoff.
“oh, honey, you're so oblivious it's almost cute,” she cooes, booping your nose.
you laugh, shaking your head, but don't insist further. you definitely hadn't felt like the guy was flirting with you at the party. but again, you're not the best at understanding how the whole world of flirting works.
“so, do you want to go over some lines for tomorrow's performance when we get to the dorm?” you ask, needing to change the subject before you start overthinking.
“yeah, sure.” emma smiles, then suddenly stops. “wait, didn't you have like a super important meeting with professor montagne and professor brink?”
your eyes open wide. “shit! what time is it?”
you desperately reach for your phone, only to find out it's already ten minutes past the time the meeting was supposed to start.
“shit, shit. i gotta go. see you later!” you wave a hand above your head, not really stopping to see if emma waves back.
you run as fast as your legs give, dodging people on your way to the crimefighting school building. usually, these meetings were held at your school's building, but this time professor brink had decided to move the meeting to his office. you didn't hate the man, but you also didn't appreciate the way he always seemed to do chess moves like this one to make sure everyone knew he was in control.
“sorry!” you yell over your shoulder after crashing into a girl and almost falling down.
meanwhile, in brink's office, professor montagne glances at her watch for the tenth time in a minute. she looks at brink with an apologetic smile.
“something must have come up, i'm sure. they’re never late to any of our meetings. my ta is nothing but exceptionally professional.”
brinks simply responds with a grunt, sending an unimpressed look to his own ta. jordan doesn’t react though, maintaining a blank expression.
“i'm afraid i have important things to attend to, professor montagne. if your student doesn't-”
brink doesn't get to finish his sentence because suddenly you're barging through the door.
“i'm so sorry, professor montagne. i completely forgot we had changed the meeting location.”
your professor, who had grown to be one of your closest friends and mentor looks at you with a disappointed frown and simply invites you to take a seat on the free chair in front of her. it's only then that you realize there are two other pairs of eyes staring up at you.
professor brink is sporting his usual stern look, but it's not him who you care about. no, it's his ta.
jordan li.
everyone at godolkin knows of them. there's a long list of people who have partied with them, and even shared their bed. and there's an even longer list of people who whish they could do that, but know they never will because the chances of them being in jordan li's radar are extremely low.
now, you'd be on that second list.
i guess you could say you've had a crush on jordan li since the very first time you met a acchool meeting similar to this one.
and that stupid, fat crush has led you to embarrass yourself every time you tried to talk to them. last time, you ended up pouring scalding hot coffee over their chest as you handed them some papers after the meeting. they had cussed, stepping away the moment you had tried to help them clean. then, when you crossed paths in the hallway a few days after the incident, you had tried to apologize and you had tripped over your own feet, almost face planting if it hadn't been for emma's arm around your arm. jordan pretended they didn't see it, you ran and hid in the nearest bathroom until the hallway was completely empty.
so, naturally, today isn't going to be any different.
as you sit down, you bump your knee against the low coffee table, making the three tea cups on it rattle and almost spill.
“sorry,” you murmur, eyes glued to the floor and cheeks heating with shame.
brink clears his throat, sending you a displeased look that you don't notice. jordan does, though. they can¡t help but shake their head.
“since we’re all here now, i think it's time we start discussing the main point of today's meeting.”
then both him and professor montagne start discussing the merging of both their classes for a school project that would involve both crimefighting and performing arts students. something about enhancing the collaborative spirit.
soon, you realize you should be taking notes, but when you reach into your bag to pull a pen out, it slips between your fingers, rolling away when you go to grab it. are you fucking serious you want to scream when you realize it ended up tight under jordan's chair.
and then you make the mistake of diving for it. hard. which results in you headbutting their knee.
“oh my god. i'm so sorry.”
jordan blinks down at you, one eyebrow raised, “you okay?”
“im- yeah. i'm okay. believe it or not, this happens all the time.”
“that sounds like a problem,” they say, lips twitching.
montagne sighs, shaking her head. but it's brink the one who speaks first in a commanding tone.
“if you two are done now, we'd like to continue this conversation.”
you look down at your notes, wanting to die of embarrassment. “yes, of course. sorry, professor.”
the rest of the meeting goes by with no more incidents. you write to the speed of light, brink talks non-stop and montagne tries to intervene when he takes a second to sip water or breathe. all the while, jordan can't focus. not completely.
their eyes keep drifting to you, noticing the way you bite your pen, nodding along to let both brink and montagne you're paying attention. they notice the way your free hand doesn't seem to ever stop. if you're not playing with the pages of your notebook, you're rolling the hem of your shirt around your thumb. they can't help but wonder if you're always this anxious, and if that's the reason you always seem to be falling down, tripping and bumping against everything and everyone on your way.
looking at you is like watching a walking diaster in slow motion. and they can't help but be fascinated.
when your pen falls again, jordan catches it midair and passes it back.
“you sure you should be handling sharp objects?”, they whisper, leaning closer to your chair.
“i'm not always like this, i promise. it's just-” you sigh. “today's not my day.”
jordan nods, turning their attention back to brink and montagne. a few minutes later, they dismiss the meeting and jordan is about ready to bolt. they jump off the chair, gathering their stuff and walk directly to the door.
you follow close, collecting your notes and your things with far less grace. so much so that a few papers fly down, twirling around your legs and ending up laying at your feet.
“you can't be serious right now,” you mutter, sure there's no way this day can get any more embarrassing.
“here.” you hear jordan's voice.
when you look down, you see them collecting the few pages, stacking them neatly before offering them to you.
“th-thanks…”
jordan smirks, rising to their feet. “you're kind of a walking hazard, did you know that?”
“yeah, well i'm not used to being late and having everyone present judging me for it.”
“but you're always kind of like falling around and bumping into people,” they say, hands in their pockets.
“yeah? well, you're always kind of a dick, so.”
your eyes open wide when you realize what you just said. you try to take it back, but when you look at jordan, you notice a slight smile pulling at their lips.
“okay, fair.” with that same smile.
they wave at brink and montagne before returning their eyes to you. “see you around, ta.”
you frown. “i have a name, you know.”
“yeah, i know.”
and with that, and wearing that same tilted grin, they finally exit brink's office. you don't have time to process the conversation you just had with the jordan li, before professor montagne calls your name.
a few hours later, when jordan meets with their friends, cate is the first one to notice the look in their eyes.
“what's got you so soft-looking, jordan?” she asks.
“nothing,” they answer, maybe a bit too quickly.
“it's probably the performing arts ta. they had a meeting today, isn't that right?” andre joins the conversation.
“oh, right. jordan's crush,” cate singsongs.
“shut up,” they mutter, but the smile doesn't falter.
andre huffs a laugh. “how's the flirting going, buddy?”
“we're making progress, i think.”
andre's brown raise. “oh?”
“she called me a dick today.” jordan's lovesick grin as they say it has their friends laughing and shaking their heads.
“you're definitely something else.”
cate bumps her shoulder onto jordan's “do you think she's noticed yet? the flirting, i mean.”
jordan thinks back at today's interaction. the way your skin had seemed to prickle when they leaned close to whisper close to your ear, or how your hands were shaking when you took the papers from their hands.
“yeah, i think so.”
“wait, wait. you're telling me you had jordan li kneeling in front of you, handing you some stupid papers and your reaction was to call them a dick?”
emma is laying on her bed, a crumpled script in one hand and a pack of twizzlers in the other. she's been analyzing your short and embarrassing encounter with jordan for the past hour, completely forgetting about tomorrow's test.
“he called me a walking hazard,” you try to defend yourself.
“yeah, because you are!” emma sits up, throwing her script away. “don't you see it?”
“see what?”
“they were flirting!”
you snort. “no, they weren't. and don't say that i'm just too blind or whatever.” you interrupt before she can add anything else. “emma, if you'd been there you'd know they were not flirting. and i don't blame them, honestly. i must've looked ridiculous. i bumped into their knee, for the love of god.”
emma shakes their head, like you're hopeless. “remind me what they said when they left the meeting.”
you shrug. “they said see you, ta. and i told them that's not my name. and then they said yeah, i know.”
“yeah, yeah. but how did they say it?”
rolling your eyes, you give her the best reenactment of jordan's last words to you.
“there it is!” she yells, pointing a finger to your face. “that smile. that's the smile, babe. oh, my god. they were totally flirting with you.”
“emma, they suggested i shouldn't be allowed to handle any sharp objects.”
“that's flirting.”
“that’s mockery.”
“yeah, but whispered mockery with eye contact counts as flirting, so…” emma shrugs.
“i insulted them, emma.”
“and they smiled at it, didn't they?”
you let out a heavy sigh, completely lying down on the carpet. to be fair, jordan's whisper right next to your ear didn't feel like something they would just casually do, right? and the fact that they had helped you picked up your scattered notes, and your pen… could they really have been flirting with you?
“no… no they weren't,” you whisper more to yourself than to emma.
“i'm going to give a couple more minutes to go over everything they did and said. i'll wait here until you find out, okay?”
emma leans against the foot of your bed, watching as your face morphs with ever thought, as you recall exactly everything they said, how they looked at you as they gifted you a lopsided grin. when she sees you raise your eyebrows, your mouth opening in a big, round o shape, she smiles.
“oh, no,“ you whisper. “they were flirting with me and i called them a dick.”
emma beams. “i love that for you, honestly.”
you can't help but slap your forehead. “this is humiliating.”
“not if we fix it.”
you twist your neck in a very uncomfortable position to look at her. “what do you mean, fix it?”
she grins at you like a cat about to knock something off a shelf. “you're going to flirt back.”
your brain short-circuits. “i- what? absolutely not.”
“why the hell not?”
you raise from the floor, throwing your arms up in defeat. “because i don't know how to, emma!”
“and that's why i'm going to help you.“
“no, no. emma, please-”
“oh this is so happening.” she pulls her phone out. “jordan's in the upper dorms, right? i think they're in 3b. perfect. you're gonna go over there, very casual-like-”
“casual?”
“-and say you needed to drop something off. something from today's meeting maybe. or maybe you need to clarify a note, or something. doesn't matter. you'll figure it out on your way up.”
you're already shaking your head. “emma, i can't just show up at their dorm!”
“yes, you can. people do it all the time.”
“not to flirt!”
emma gives the greatest deadpan ever seen. “no, yeah. people show up to their dorm in the middle of the night for bible study. babe, i need you to get your head in the game if you want this to work, alright?”
you look down at your hands. “i'll just look like another idiot with a childish crush.”
emma sighs dramatically, reaching for your hands again. “listen. you're not just another idiot with a crush. you're my idiot with a crush. and i believe in you.”
you squint at her. “that's not as comforting as you think it is.”
she grins. “you're welcome.”
you bury your face in your hands. “this is going to end up in disaster.”
“probably. but at least it'll be entertaining diaster.”
you groan. “emma…”
but she's already on her feet and walking to your drawers to help you pick up your outfit.
thirty minutes later you walk out of the elevator on jordan's floor. you pace in front of their door, clutching a stack of notes from today's and past meetings purely for cover. your heart is pounding loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
you raise your hand to knock, hesitate, then turn around to walk away.
and then your phone buzzes.
emma: knock.
emma: do it right now.
emma: don't make me come up there and do it myself.
“i hate you,” you mutter, putting your phone away. “okay- you're not gonna mess it up this time. you're gonna be cool, confident, flirty-”
the door swings open.
jordan leans against the frame in their male form, wearing sweats and a skin-tight cropped t-shirt that shows off their muscles.
“you've been standing there for like five minutes talking to yourself. you good?”
“i brought papers.” is the first thing you say, showing them the stack of notes in your arms.
“okay…?”
“notes. from the meeting. i had some questions. totally professional.”
why the hell are you talking as if this was a telegram? jordan's lips twitch. he stares at the pages, upside down and mostly blank.
“right. professional.”
they step aside, holding the door open. but you remain glued to your spot. “you can come in, you know.”
“oh, right. yeah. that's… good. smart.”
you walk in, tripping slightly over the threshold, and jordan bites back a laugh. you're too damn cute, and they don’t think they can pretend they don't find this situation entirely hilarious.
jordan's dorm is a lot cleaner than you expected. a minimalist desk with two half-empty mugs, textbooks stacked by subject. the space has an energy that scream i don't actually live here, i just recharge my energy.
he shuts the door behind you with a soft click. “you can drop the papers on the desk.”
“right,” you say, pretending to look for a clear spot though the desk is basically spotless.
jordan leans against the door, arms crossed. “so... what was it that you wanted to ask me about the meeting?”
you fidget with you now empty hands. “i… i was hoping we could compare our notes. make sure we both know what we're supposed to do for this project.”
jordan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “you're a terrible liar.”
“yeah, that's, um… one of my core skills. it's on my resumé, right after tripping over my own feet.” you try to laugh if off, and your voice comes out a little too high-pitched.
jordan nods, not bothering to hide their smile anymore. “yeah, i remember. when you tried to come up to me after spilling your coffee on one of my favorite shirts.”
you wince. “great, so you saw that. i was hoping you didn't.”
jordan chuckles, quiet but real. and the sound makes your stomach do something weird.
“relax,” they say. “if you didn't die of embarrassment then i don't think you will now.”
“not making any promises.”
jordan's still leaning against the door, you're still awkwardly standing in the middle fo their dorm with your arms hanging at your sides and not really knowing where to look. so you decide it's time to begin emma's step-by-step flirting plan.
step 1: make eye contact.
step 2: compliment something.
step 3: touch (subtly).
okay. you can do this.
“so…” you start, “you look… different when you're not glaring at everyone that crosses you.”
jordan tilts his head. “i glare?”
“only a little,” you try to fix it, high-pitched voice. “but like in a hot way.”
oh. god. you aid that out loud.
you immediately backpedal. “i mean… uh- in an intimidating way! not that you're not… uh…”
jordan pushes themselves away from the door, taking a few broad, slow steps towards you.
“hot?”
you groan. “please, delete the last thirty seconds from your memory.”
“no can do.” they shake their head, stepping closer. “that was the highlight of my day.”
you forget step three entirely because your brain melts at their proximity. they're close enough that you can smell their cologne. something sweet but sharp.
“you look so cute when you get flustered,” they whisper, breath caressing your lips.
“you think i'm cute?” you frown. “wait… are you- are actually flirting with me right now?”
jordan huffs a laugh. “been doing it for a while now. thanks for finally noticing, ta.”
what?
“what do you mean?”
jordan steps even closer. you try to step back, but you bump into their desk chair, clumsily reaching for something to hold on to before you fall on your ass. luckily, jordan grabs you by your shoulders, keeping you upright.
“you think it was a coincidence brink chose montagne's class to merge with his for this project?” jordan sends you a smug smile.
“you convinced him to do it?”
they nod. “i was hoping it would give me an excuse to finally spend more time with you without having you run away and hide in the janitor’s closet.” you groan, but jordan can't help the smile. “and, as it seems, my plan is working so far.”
they send a pointed look at the stack of papers.
“but why?” you ask.
“isn't it obvious?” when you don't respond, jordan finally admits. “i like you, ta.”
you blink once, twice. look them in the eyes, then look away, then look back at them again.
“you like… me?”
jordan laughs, shaking their head. “god, you're hopeless.”
“but i- hold on…” you blink. “i can't flirt for shit. i'm the clumsiest person ever. and i… are you sure?”
“do you want me to say it again?” jordan teases. “i like you. your clumsiness is probably my favorite part, if i’m honest. but you're also the smartest person around here. after me, of course. and you're so nice to everyone, which i don't really understand because most people don't deserve your niceties, but it's so adorable that you're always there to help everyone.”
your mouth opens and closes a few times before you manage to whisper, "i brought a stack of blank papers.”
“i know.”
“i lied. i didn't need to ask you any questions.”
another soft smile pulls at jordan’s lips. “i gathered that. i saw you write down every word brink and montagne said. there was nothing i could add to that.”
“and you still…?”
jordan says your name in a low, fond tone. “you could hand me a bag of rocks and i'd probably still think it was cute.”
you stare and then let out a weak laugh. “that's a low bar.”
“yeah, well. i'm not exactly playing hard to get.”
you blush again, trying to find your footing in the conversation. “so… uh, this is what flirting is like, huh.”
“fun isn't it?”
you huff a laugh. “so what do we do now? what does the flirting manual say comes after this?” you ask, voice a whisper against jordan's lips.
“now you stop glancing at my mouth and actually kiss me.”
you choke on your own saliva. “i… i wasn't-”
but jordan doesn't let you finish the sentence. they clash their lips onto yours, almost groaning at the sensation. the brush of their lips feels more like a question than a claim. their mouth is warm against yours, soft and searching, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.
jordan tastes like mint and nerves, lips moving with a kind of hesitant rhythm, as if they were afraid to want too much, too fast. so you let them know exactly what you need. you lean closer, hand slipping under the soft fabric of their t-shirt
they smile against your lips before kissing you again, deeper this time, more certain. you let out a shaky breath the moment you feel the tip of their tongue tracing your lower lip. taunting, asking for permission.
the world feels smaller, like it just fits you and jordan, smiling between kisses, pieces of clothing flying across the room as they walk you to their bed.
“tell me you want this as much as i do,” they beg, coming up for air, with your foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the faint space between you two. you nod eagerly. “words, ta. i need to hear you say it.”
“yes, jordan. i need you.”
and without another word, they lean back down, devouring your mouth, savoring every corner and recording the taste in their memory.
from the pocket of your jeans, which lay discarded somewhere around jordan's dorm floor, your phone buzzes with a string of messages.
emma: did it work?
emma: please tell me it worked
emma: okay, you're taking an awful time to respond so i'm gonna assume it did work.
emma: have fun, babes.
emma: but not too much fun.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
requested: yes!
pairing: jordan li x fem!reader
summary: you were supposed to be just another casual fling, someone to keep jordan's bed warm during the winter break. however, two weeks later yours kneeling on your bathroom floor, holding positive test in your hands and cussing the man that did this to you only to run away right after (read the more elaborated request for more context!).
c.warning: not proofread, he / she / they pronouns for jordan, pregnant/mother reader, angst, timeskip/au where jordan is a member of the seven, bad decisions being made, babies (non-identical twins), vought shit going on, hurt with some comfort.
a/n: merry christmas to those who celerate! as a present i bring you my longest fic to date!! +5k?!! oof. i think this one took a while bc it was hard for me to picture jordan as a parent, but once i got the idea i enjoyed so much writing about this request to the point where i couldn't stop, hence the 6k words (and i feel i could've keep on writing) anyway, hope you like it.
part 2 | part 3
“so, what are you going to do?” the faint voice of your best friend comes from the threshold of the bathroom door.
you don’t answer, your vision blurry as you stare down at your hands, at the positive test you’re holding.
“i just want you to know that whatever decision you make, i’ll be there for you, okay?”
but her voice comes slurred, suffocated under the ringing in your ears.
pregnant.
you’re pregnant.
the worst part? you’re 100% sure whose baby it is.
“hey, are you okay?” you friend asks, gently shaking your shoulder. “breath. you need to breath. come on, do it with me, yeah.”
ignoring her attempts at calming you, you stand from the toilet seat. your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone.
“i need to make a call.”
there’s a crumpled ticket on your desk, a phone number scribbled on it. the ink is smudged but you still see the numbers. god, you could type the number with your eyes closed, but you like to pretend that you don’t have it memorized.
that those weeks you spent together didn’t mean anything, that they didn’t leave a mark you.
you take the phone to your ear and patiently wait, like many times before.
and like all those times, the line dies before anyone picks it up.
“i thought we had already established he gave you a fake number,” your friend’s voice comes from the bathroom.
you glare at her over your shoulder and she raises her hands in a surrender gesture. turning back to you phone, you open the tinder app.
“son of a…”
gone. his profile is completely gone.
and the thing is jordan li has always been very careful.
careful with their name. careful with their face. careful with what parts of them they allowed people to touch, to see.
for the longest time, before brink, before rankings, before being vought’s newest, shiny weapon, they split their life cleanly down the middle. two tinder profiles. two fake names. two burner numbers that led nowhere real. it felt controlled. safe.
no attachments. no consequences.
and you had just been… winter girl.
senior year, christmas break. god u half-empty, the campus quiet and cold, everyone scattering back to lives jordan never asked about. you were warm in contrast; laughing too easily, fingers cold when you tugged him closer in your borrowed hoodie, mouth tasting like cheap beer and peppermint gum.
you hadn’t asked too many questions. and jordan liked that.
two weeks, that’s all the time you spent together.
a few restless nights. a few mornings where jordan left your apartment before the sun fully rose. no promises, no expectations, just the heat of skin against skin and shared breaths.
when the break ended, so did you.
jordan unmatched you the same way they’d unmatched everyone else.
they didn’t think about it again.
then, three weeks later, you’re having a panic attack on your bedroom floor as your best friend holds you to her chest, murmuring over and over again that everything will be fine.
the hours pass by, she’s now sleeping on your couch –said she didn’t want to leave you alone in a moment like this– and you’re still sitting on your bedroom floor, positive test between your hands.
you stare at it for a long time as you consider your options.
you think about abortion. you really do. you pick up your phone and search for the nearest clinic. book an appointment without even blinking. not even five minutes later you cancel it.
then rebook it.
then cancel it again.
in the morning, when your friend comes into your room she finds you sleeping with your phone in your hand, screen unlocked. and what’s on your screen? a blog for first time moms.
a few days later she drives you to your first doctor’s appointment. she sits beside you the whole time, holding your hand when she notices it starts shaking.
when you get out, she asks if you’re going to try to reach jordan again. you simply shake your head and you force her to treat you to some pancakes. i’m eating for two now, you say. your friend just shakes her head, laughing.
and just as you told her, you don’t try to contact jordan again in the next nine months. not even during those nights where you felt so lonely, crying yourself to sleep. not even when you found out you were having twins.
you surrounded yourself with people who actually cared. people who wouldn’t disappear from your life without even saying goodbye.
the next time you see jordan he’s on your screen.
you sit on your couch, feeding one of the babies as the other sleeps in the next room. on the tv is the latest vought addition, smiling and waving at the small audience at the studio where the interview is being shot.
he talks about his latest projects, what being a member of the seven is like, what and honor it is for someone like him —whatever the fuck that means, you think— to be a part of such a great and vital team.
you knew he was a supe when you first met him, but he never talked about his powers. you thought it may be out of embarrassment. you’ve heard stories about very strange and useless powers; people who could enlarge body parts or turn their eyes any color they wanted. whatever jordan’s power was, he didn’t talk about it or showed it off in the weeks you spent together.
and you had always tried to avoid anything that had to do with the oh so great jordan li; turning the tv off the second one of his commercials came on, turning away when you saw his face on a big poster on the street.
you had tried to avoid the memories that arose every time you saw that face, those eyes and that birthmark on his chin.
this time, you don’t get to watch the full interview because at some point your son starts crying from the other room. turning the tv off, not before cussing the man on the screen one more time, you hold your kid close to your chest as you go to check on her crying brother.
as you hold him close to your chest, looking down at his chubby face, you can’t help notice the similarities with the man on your screen. the slope of his tiny nose, and those eyes. those dark, beautiful eyes are an exact copy of his father’s. they hold he same spark you noticed on your first date with jordan.
as you doze off with your baby peacefully sleeping on your chest, the last thing you think about is how good it felt to be held by jordan in those brief moments after sex, before he got out of bed and disappeared from your apartment thinking you were asleep the whole time.
it’s been almost a year since you had the twins when you meet jordan again. although, you would’ve prefer it had been under different circumstances.
you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting involved in a robbery situation that could’ve gone wrong if it hadn’t been for the group of supes that appeared at the store right in time.
you were hidden in a corner, holding your babies close to you as you tried to shush them, trying your best to keep calm, if not for yourself, for them.
then there’s a shot near you, a couple of aisles to your left, and you jump in your place. your daughter starts crying, shaking in your arms and you whisper that everything will be alright, even though you’re not too sure about it.
then there’s another shot, followed by a loud crash and the sound of glass shattering. the whole time, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, rocking your body and your kids with you.
after a few more minutes of fighting, a soothing voice comes near you, “everything’s okay now, ma’am. are you or the kids hurt?”
when you look up you find one of the most beautiful women you’ve seen in your life crouched right in front of you, her eyes furrowed with worry as she checks you and your twins for any signs of harm.
and maybe if you weren’t so shocked, or if your head wasn’t spinning like crazy… maybe you would’ve noticed the way jordan’s eyes seem to widen with recognition as she takes a good look at you. maybe you would've even noticed the way her entire body seems to tremble as she looks down at the two twins, who are now staring up at her with dark, glossy eyes.
jordan’s breath leaves their body.
same eyes.
not just similar. not a coincidence. the exact same shape, the same intensity, like someone had lifted them straight from jordan’s face and placed them into a smaller, softer version of themselves.
jordan’s knees nearly buckle.
“yes… yes, we’re okay. thank you.”
jordan’s attention immediately jumps back to you, and this time she takes a decent look at you. she notices the dark circles under your eyes, the way you look somehow terribly tired but also incredibly beautiful. i mean, they’ve never believed you weren't the most beautiful person they had ever met. but something about you right now… maybe it is the new hairstyle, or the way you’re still holding onto your twins while you whisper to them in a low and soft tone.
finally, you stand up on wobbly feet, not letting go of either of the babies, and jordan snaps back to reality.
babies.
two of them.
two beautiful babies that look like the perfect mixture of their genes and yours.
somehow, jordan forgets where they were, or that they need to head back to the tower for their weekly report.
“thanks for the help,” you speak with a weak voice, clearly still in shock.
“it’s nothing. do you…? uh…”
as they look at you, jordan remembers the last time they saw you. your body sprawled on your bed, back bare and tinted by the orange glow of the streetlamps coming in from your small window.
you had been a fun couple of weeks, that’s all. that’s what they had told themselves for months, anyway. still, they had found themselves trying to reach you again several times. it would mean breaking their one and only rule about relationships: no reruns. once you’re done with someone, you’re done.
but, as much as they would’ve tried to contact you, they hadn’t been able to. he had never bothered to ask for your number, preferring to contact only through tinder. and, of course, all your information had disappeared along with his fake account when he deleted it all those months ago.
“hey, you ready to leave?”
both you and jordan turn to look at her teammate, who’s contemplating the situation with a slight frown on her face. jordan only nods, unable to speak and forcing their legs to take a step back from you. marie notices the way jordan’s eyes linger on the two kids a second two long before almost bolting from the store.
“do you need help with anything else?” she asks you, but you shake your head, already bundling the babies up and putting them on the stroller.
“i can manage alone, thank you.”
marie nods, waving your little girl goodbye before exiting the store.
that night, jordan doesn’t sleep. he paces the halls of the tower, his head a mess of thoughts and fears. he feels like shit for leaving you behind today, but on the other side, what was he supposed to do? switch right in front of you and let you see the man that had left you behind all those months ago? no, he couldn’t have done that, not in that situation. you were already shocked, so worried about your kids. she had noticed the way your hands shook as you caressed your girl’s dark hair. he would’ve hated to add to that anxious feeling.
“you’re going to drill a whole in the floor if you keep pacing back and forth like that.”
marie was standing in the threshold of the meeting room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. she was wearing her training clothes, which meant she must have just gotten up from the gym.
“do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
jordan knows he doesn’t need to pretend he doesn't understand. marie had always been a smart girl, and she probably saw everything that happened this morning and immediately knew what was going on.
with heavy steps, jordan walks to his chair on the meeting table and falls onto it, head immediately dropping low.
“so they’re yours?”
jordan nods. “i think so, yeah.”
“but you’re not sure.” marie’s voice is so soft, so gentle.
“i saw their eyes, marie. and they couldn’t have been older than a year. which is…”
exactly the time that had passed since he abandoned you.
“so who is this girl?”
marie’s question has jordan going through all their memories of you. although the time you two had spent together had been brief, they remembered those weeks with kindness. you were a smart girl, funny as hell, and jordan could never forget the way their heart seemed to somersault the first time he saw you walk into the restaurant where you two first met. your profile picture had been astonishing, but seeing the real thing…
his stomach twists with guilt as they remember every decision they made under the assumption that nothing could follow them home.
“you’re a parent now, jordan.”
“i know,” he whispers, voice almost breaking at this point.
marie lays a hand on jordan’s shoulder, slightly squeezing. “those kids need you, you know that, right?”
“i know, i know. but how..?” jordan growl with frustration. “she doesn't know me, marie. i didn’t let her. she just knows the asshole that fucked for a couple of weeks and left without saying goodbye. how am i supposed to ask anything from her? i don’t… i don’t deserve it.”
“but the kids do deserve to know they have a parent like you, jordan.” maris its down on the chair in front of them. “i mean, don’t get me wrong. they seemed to be in great hands.”
that was true. marie had never seen such unconditional love gleaming in someone’s eyes before. she watched you putting on a smile for your kids, pretending you weren’t scared shitless as you readied them to get out of that damned store.
“but they also need to know about you. and i’m not saying it will be easy. hell, if i were her i’d make you grovel like crazy before i let you anywhere near my babies.”
even though she’s trying to lighten up the mood, jordan’s head is still swimming with frustration and anger at themselves.
“i think there’s a bigger issue to consider, though,” marie’s whispers comes after a few minutes of silence.
jordan’s head snaps up, looking at her in the eye.
“what if… what if the babies have your powers, jordan?”
at that, their chest squeezes tighter. they know exactly how it feels to wake up one morning in an entirely different body, not understanding why your anatomy feels so different when you feel the same on the inside.
marie’s question brings on a new wave of anxiety.
what if they do grow up with jordan’s powers? what if that’s where you draw the line? what if you’re not supportive? they can’t let their kids grow up in a home where they’re not accepted.
“i need to talk to her.”
with a little bit of help from other members of the team, jordan gets your phone number and location.
“are you sure about this?” marie asks, not trying to convince them not to leave, but making sure this decision is not based on an irrational instinct.
“she needs to know the truth and i need to know if those babies are mine.”
it’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on your door. you frown, turning down the tv volume and closing the door to the twin’s room before walking to your front door.
your breath catches as you look through the peephole, but you open the door anyway.
“can i help you?”
jordan looks up from her dirty shoes and her heart stutters the same way it did at the store just this morning. she checks over your shoulder, noticing the kids are nowhere to be found.
“can i come in?”
“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to be rude but… i don’t know you.”
jordan hates the way your words sting. she knows you say it because you don’t recognize her female form, but even in his masc self you’d feel the same way.
“i need to talk to you about something. and i would like it if we could do so in private,” jordan says, looking over her shoulder this time to make sure there are no nosey neighbors around.
you doubt for a second but them remember that this woman saved you and your kids a few hours ago. stepping out of the way, you invite jordan in. she takes everything in; from the mess of clean laundry piled on the sofa waiting to be put away, to the two pairs of tiny sneakers resting right next to your own next to the apartment door.
jordan knows this place, but they also recognize how much it has changed since the last time he was here. where there were once posters and prints of your favorite band or movie there’s now a picture of each kid. the shelves are full of pregnancy guides and books on how to be the best mother your kid could ask for.
“can i… can i get you something to drink?” you asks, looking shy and small.
you’re wearing an old college sweatshirt as a pyjama, the sleeves rolled up and dirty with baby food.
“no, thanks. can we just sit down for a minute?” jordan points at the sofa and you immediately take all the baby clothes and throw them on the nearest chair, freeing some space for her. “thank you.”
you sit down next to her, not too close, though.
“i want to thank you again for today,” you immediately say. “you and your team literally saved our lives.”
“it’s quite literally our job, so…” jordan huffs a laugh. “you don’t need to thank me.”
“right.”
for a couple of minutes, you two sit down in an extremely uncomfortable silence. jordan is trying to put some order to their thoughts, calculating the best way to approach the situation. they don’t want to spook you, not too early for them to explain themselves.
“so…” you start.
and jordan immediately speaks. “i’m here to tell you the truth.”
well, that’s not ominous at all, you think.
“the truth…” you repeat, frowning.
“but first i’m going to ask you to please let me talk. i know what i’m about to say is most likely going to piss you off…”
“what are you talking about?”
“but i need you to listen to me. okay?” you nod, still not understanding what the hell is going on.
and before you can ask that question out loud, the woman in front of you disappears. and in her place is the last person you want to see right now.
“what the actual fuck?” you jump from the couch, standing and taking a huge step away from jordan.
you barely register what just happened because you’re too busy looking at him. you don’t exactly care how he got here, into your apartment, sitting in your couch, but you do know you don’t want to see him.
“get out.”
“please, listen.”
“get. out.”
jordan stands up too, and as he walks to you, his body morphs again, returning to the woman who saved your life.
“will you listen to me if i stay in this form?”
you can only stare at her, mouth agape. and jordan waits patiently until the shock wears off and the anger comes back.
“what the fuck is this?” you whisper-yell, stepping away from the door that leads to the kids’ room. “how dis you…? what was that?”
“that was me using my powers. this is who i am.” she holds her arms out. “look, i cam where because i needed to show you. because, if my guess is correct, and i’m pretty sure it is, those two kids i saw this morning have a very high change of becoming like this at some point.”
you frown. “what are you talking about?”
“the kids. twins, right?” jordan takes a step towards you, slowly and carefully, as if they were dealing with a scared kitten. “are they…?”
“they’re mine,” you bite. and jordan almost claps at the protective tone of your voice. they babies truly couldn’t be in better hands. “but yes, you’re also their father, or mother, or whatever.”
jordan’s chest cinches, as if hearing the words from your lips had suddenly helped open a well inside them. they feel the floor beneath their feel melt and they find themselves taking in quick breaths.
“we don’t need you, so you can’t walk back the way you came if you don’t want this. we’ve been doing just great without you all this time.”
when jordan looks up at you, they notice your defensive stance, the way you have your arms crossed against your chest, the way you seem to lean your body so that you’re standing in front of the wooden door nearest to the kitchen. that must be the kids’ room, jordan thinks.
she shakes her head, “i want it. i want to be a part of this.”
“yeah, right.”
jordan takes another step closer and your entire body tenses. they retreat.
“i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you since the beginning.”
you bite you trembling lip. “i tried to reach you, you know?”
this time, it’s who’s walking towards them. “i tried to call and each and every single one of my calls landed at an old pizzeria’s line. i tried to message you but your entire profile was gone. and i tried to find you but i din’t know who the fuck you were, so wouldn’t even know where to begin to look.”
by the time you’re done talking you’re face to face with her, you’re almost the same height, so it’s easier to glare at her and to let her see exactly how much you hated him during those weeks, months even.
“i even found out about your real name on the newspaper. i saw a picture of you, the other you, posing with your supe friends. and that’s when i found out that the father of my two kids wasn’t named fucking zack. how do you think that felt, huh?”
jordan bites the inside of their cheeks, trying their best to keep the tears at bay.
“like shit, jordan. it felt like shit. and then i find out you were also keeping this from me.” you point at her, at the shape of her body. “why? did you think i wasn’t going to accept you ? that i was going to… what? ghost you and completely vanish from the earth. oh, wait.”
“do you really think i would’ve disappeared like that if i had known you were pregnant?” jordan shakes her head. “i didn’t know. there was no way for me to know.”
“and whose fault is that?” you bite. you notice your mistake too late.
a second later a loud shriek comes from the babies room and you walk straight towards it. you look once at jordan over your shoulder.
“we don’t need you, jordan. we haven’t in all these months, and i don’t think we’ll start now.”
and with that you close the door behind your back and silently cry into your baby’s hair as you try to soothe her.
the next morning you find a phone number scribbled on the tiny whiteboard on the fridge.
a few months go by. you spend christmas at home with you twins and your best friend. in february they start going to daycare so you can return to your usual routine.
everything seems to be normal, until one day there’s a knock on your door. sighing you look at the phone number on your fridge. you still haven’t dared to call, but neither have you erased it.
you open the door without looking through the peephole.
“what do you…?”
but this time it’s not jordan on the other side. instead, you find a man in a suit whose smile is entirely too broad.
“may i help you?”
“oh i think you will, yes.” he nods. “may i come in?”
“no.”
his smile drops, ever so slightly. leaning his head to the side, he asks, “have you notices something strange about your children lately?”
you go cold.
“i don’t… i don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“really? because we’ve heard a really strange report about a certain pair of twins who got mistaken today at school, and not because they’re identical twins, exactly.”
you feel the beating of your heart speed up as the smile in the man’s face grows bigger and more sinister.
trying your best not to seem scared, you say, “i’m sorry, sire, you must be mistaken.”
and with that you slam the door. you wat a couple of seconds, waiting for him to kick the door down, but there’s only the soft pat of his shoes against the stairs as he leaves.
immediately, you pull out your phone and run to your fridge.
they answer on the first ring.
“is everything okay?” jordan asks.
“i need your help.”
you’ve been pacing around the living room for almost twenty minutes when there’s a soft knock on your door. you walk on your tippy toes, trying not to make any noise in case the suited man is back, but jordan’s vice come from the other side of the door.
“it’s me. jordan.”
when you open the door, he rushes in, closing it behind his back before reaching for you. without even thinking, jordan hugs you tight to his chest.
“are you okay? are the kids okay?”
“yes… he left without fight.”
“what did he want?” jordan asks, breaking the hug only so he can look at your face.
“my… my babies.”
jordan’s blood freezes. they knew this day would come eventually. it was only a matter of time before vought found out about his parenthood. but vought would catch them dead before they turned in their children for vought to experiment with.
“i’ll protect them,” jordan says, voice low and sure. “i swear to you. whatever it takes.”
you sniff, bracing yourself and trying not to think about how good it felt to be held by jordan again after so long. “i didn’t raise them so vought could put targets on their backs.”
“i won’t let them,” jordan says fiercely.
and the look in jordan’s eyes as he glances at the kids’ door lets you know they actually mean it.
you allow yourself to believe him.
you spend the rest of the day going over your plan to protect the twins. jordan helps you put some order in the apartment and as the hours go by the scene feel more and more domestic.
when the time comes to feed the twins, jordan dares to ask to help you.
“i won’t argue if you don’t want me to…”
“good luck with that one,” you say, pointing at your son. “he’s messy.”
jordan looks at the kid, who looks back up at him with his bright, dark eyes and giggles.
“not today, right, bussy. he’s going to eat the whole thing and not make a mess.”
you want to ignore the way your chest warms at jordan’s baby voice, you really want to ignore it. but you can’t. and before you know it, you’re lips are pulling into a soft smile.
“don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
by the time dinner time is over, jordan’s sweater is covered in green and white splotches. but he laughs as he helps clean your son and ready him for bed. you watch them from the couch, holding your daughter to your chest and admiring the gentleness with which jordan treats your baby.
finally, they sit down on th couch with you, your son cradled in their arms. jordan doesn’t dare to look away from him.
soon, he’s teary eyed as he caresses the baby’s cheek. he reaches a small hand, gripping jordan’s dirty sweater.
“i’m sorry i missed it,” they whisper. when he looks up at you, you find a few tears already escaping their eyes. “i’m really sorry.”
you watch them quietly. “you didn’t know.”
“still. i shouldn’t have left you. god, i… you are perfect, i don’t know why i would ever dare to leave you like that.”
“jordan it’s okay. it was just a fling, i get it.”
“but it wasn’t,” jordan scoffs. “it wasn’t for me. and i knew it. that morning as i left your apartment i was convinced i was making a mistake, and yet… i left anyways.”
that renders you speechless. you can only stare at jordan, at the sweet boy they’re holding, a matching pair to the soft baby girl in your own arms. you think of how easy everything would’ve been if that morning he’d decided to keep you in his arms. of how different things would’ve been if you had waken up to him laying next to you, his breath on your neck, his arm around your waist.
“i think it’s time for bed,” you murmur, standing up from the couch and carrying your daughter to her tiny bed.
jordan stays put, already feeling like an intruder and not entirely sure you’d like it for them to step into your kids room. instead, they help you pick up your son and follow you with their eyes as you walk back into the kids’ room.
you take a few minutes, sitting on the small kid’s chair that rests in between the two beds, contemplating what awaits once you step out of the room. you wait so long you actually believe they might just have left.
but when you step out into the living room, you see the kitchen light on and hear the clattering of dishes being washed and put away. when you walk into the room, jordan is back into her female form, a pink rag on her shoulder as she finishes cleaning up the dinner dishes.
she must have heard you, because her shoulder immediately tense as she turns around. her hair is now pulled into a half-up that makes her look even more striking. wet dish rag and all.
before you can say anything, she begins.
“i don’t expect forgiveness,” she says. “or anything. but i need you to know that i’m not running. not again.”
you study them. this version of jordan, the one with dark circles and quiet fear in their eyes. crossing your arms over your chest, you walk farther into the kitchen.
“you hurt me.”
her eyes sparkle again, and you know she’s trying her best not to cry. “i know.”
“and i know probably you didn’t mean to,” you continued. “but you did.”
she nods. “i’ll carry that.”
silence falls. then you step closer. picking up the rag from her shoulder and folding it in two, you put it away.
“i don’t need perfection,” you say softly. “i need honesty.”
jordan looks at you, hope trembling on her lips. “i can do that.”
you reach for her hands, holding them tight.
“good,” you whispered. “we can start over.”
she nods. “i think we both deserve that.”
she offers you her hand and you shake it.
“hi,” she whispers, almost shy.
“hey.”
“so… do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”
that makes you smile. nodding, you say, “i’d love that actually.”
and for the first time since winter, since those fake names and disappearing acts, jordan li feels something steady take root in their chest.
something they will never run from.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
English isn't my first language, but I'd love to request a cute story with Jordan Li, something about him/her confessing their feelings and melting in front of the reader, like he/she does with Marie. Thanks
pairing: jordan li x gn!reader
w.count: 2.1k
c.warning: they/them pronouns for jordan’s and reader, mutual pining, jordan li being a softie for reader, mentions of alcohol, jealous jordan, soft confession + first kiss.
a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long omg. i'm catching up on all the requests i have. i promsie i'll get to all of them eventually. it's been a really busy couple of weeks and i've been dealing with some health issues, so yeah. anyway, i hope you like this!!
requests | masterlist
godolkin was never quiet. between late-night power drills, loud dorm music, and the occasional spontaneous explosion, silence was almost a myth.
that’s why jordan noticed you long before they meant to. because you were one of the few people who didn’t add to the noise. you sat two rows ahead of them in brink’s old ethics lecture, always tapping your pen against your notebook like you were writing to keep your thoughts from leaking out.
jordan didn’t think much of it at first. you were just another student, probably smarter than most, definitely more focused. but then you smiled at something one of your friends said once, and jordan felt something twist in their chest. something sharp and inconvenient.
you and jordan didn’t talk much. merely a few quick exchanges of words, maybe you'd ask them to borrow a pen, or jordan would ask you what time it was. and that was pretty much it.
that was until a few weeks later, when marie asked you to join everyone for a study session.
you arrived a hers and emma's dorm a little late, clutching a paper coffee cup and your laptop and your notes under one arm.
the moment you barge into the room, apologizing in between ragged breaths, jordan feels their heart stop.
and it scares the shit out of them.
now, if anyone ever asked jordan li what scared them, they’d say something cool. something impressive.
losing a fight.
disappointing brink.
running out of hot water halfway through a shower.
but hey would never admit the truth.
because the truth was: you terrified them.
“it’s fine,” jordan said, pretending to scroll through notes but mostly watching you from the corner of their eye. “you didn’t miss anything. andre was just explaining quantum ethics in the worst brink impression i’ve ever witnessed.”
“i it wasn’t that bad. and i was making a point!” andre protested.
“you were making everyone uncomfortable,” jordan shot back, smirking.
you laughed, really laughed, and that was it. jordan’s heart decided to betray them completely.
just like it had done a few months ago when they noticed you in class for the first time. you were sitting there, a few chairs to their left, scribbling notes like you were trying to outwrite your own brain. from time to time you’d tilt your head when something confused you, mouthing the professor’s words under your breath until they made sense.
and jordan couldn't help but smile softly to themselves. you were weird. endearing, but weird.
now, they sat back as you helped the others, going over your notes and explaining everything with a soft and friendly tone. when emma groaned in frustration, you laid a hand on her shoulder and then proceeded to explain it to her again.
meanwhile, jordan tried their best to focus on their own work. and failed miserably.
“cute, huh?” andre leans closer to whisper close to their ear.
jordan jumped in their seat, eyes traveling from your face to andre's smug one. he raised an eyebrow when jordan couldn't find their words.
“i don't know what you're talking about,” they say.
“sure…” andre huffed a laugh, but he didn’t say anything else.
over the next few weeks, jordan tried to play it cool. they teased you, lent you notes, even helped you train once. when you had heard you complain to marie that you were running behind on your physical skills, since you had been to focused on passing all your theoretical exams, they couldn’t help but offer their help.
that’s how you ended up one night after class alone in the gym with a very sweaty, very excited jordan li. they kept taunting you, walking in circles trying to find all your blind spots.
“come on, hit me,” they said, watchful eyes glued to your every move. a smug smile pulled at their lips when they noticed you change your stance, planting your feet exactly how they told you a few failed punches ago. “there it is. such a fast learner, aren't you?”
“are you going to stop taunting me and actually fight me, or…?”
“darling, i wouldn't want to hurt you.”
“oh, you're too cocky.”
with one swift move, you jump in front of them and throw your fist straight towards their chin. jordan switches in time to dodge it and grab both your arms, immediately locking them agaist your back.
“too easy,” they whisper next to your ear. “you punch like you're apologizing to the air.”
and maybe it had been the taunting in their voice, or the cool feeling of their breath against your damp skin, but your pulse sped up and the adrenaline helped you escape their hold, landing a blow straight to their chest.
“now we're talking.”
it was past midnight when you both exited the gym, laughing and still catching your breath. jordan had resisted the temptation to wipe a loose strand of hair off your face. they frowned, not even sure where the need to do it had come from in the first place.
and every day after that night at the gym, the need to get closer, to know you better, grew bigger and bigger. every time you smiled at them, jordan felt the need to capture the image, to engrave the taste of it against their own lips.
talking to you was so easy, they quickly found themselves sharing pieces and bits of their story they hadn't shared with anyone else. and every time they did you would listen attentively, offering them a shoulder to cry on if they needed to.
it had surprised jordan the first time they found themselves crying in front of you. but it had surprised them even more when you didn't even flinch, reaching a hand to cup their cheek and wipe the tears away with a soft, reassurring smile on your face.
and god had jordan wanted to kiss you right there and then.
because you just had this way of looking at them that made it impossible for jordan to stay composed. it wasn’t awe or fear like they usually got from people who didn't know them. it was curiosity, warmth. you saw them, both sides, both forms, and didn’t blink.
that’s when jordan realized they were in trouble.
weeks passed, and jordan found themselves looking for you more often.
in the cafeteria, where you always picked the plain bagel instead of the fancy ones.
in the hallways, where you’d wave even when they pretended not to see.
in the training room, where they'd find you caressing a punching bag, flushed cheeks and smooth skin glistening with sweat.
andre noticed first.
“you like them,” he said one night, smirking over his drink.
jordan scoffed. “no, i don’t.”
“you do.”
“i don’t.”
“oh, then you won't mind me asking them out.”
if looks could kill, jordan's eyes would've already blasted andre's brains off. “don't you fucking dare.”
that makes their friend bark a laugh, head tipped back.
“you look hot when you're jealous.”
“fuck you.”
but that night, jordan realized something. they hated the idea of seeing you with someone else. and that led to a second realization.
they needed to confess their feelings to you.
it happened on a random thursday evening. you were both walking back from class, the campus washed in orange light, the air just starting to turn cold.
you were talking about something —brink’s theories, maybe— but jordan wasn’t really listening. they were too focused on the way your breath clouded in the air and how your sleeve brushed theirs every few steps.
finally, you noticed their silence. stopping mid sentence you turned to them, grabbing their jacket sleeve when they continued walking without noticing you had stopped.
“okay, what’s wrong?” you asked softly.
jordan swallowed thickly. “nothing. just… thinking.”
“about?” you asked, head slightly tilted in confusion. it must've been something important if it had the incredibly aware and awake jordan li distracted.
and that was the problem. they'd been thinking about you. just like any other minute of their day for the past… god they don't even remember when they started being so infatuated with you.
they looked at you, your face slightly tinted with the orangish tone of the lamplights, your brows slightly furrowed with genuine worry.
jordan's heart skips a beat.
“okay, so, uh… don’t laugh, but I’m terrible at this.”
you blinked, confused. “terrible at what?”
jordan exhaled, raking a hand through their hair. “this. talking. when it matters. you make it easier. but… right now i don't think… i cant-” they gestured helplessly at you, “I can’t handle this.”
that made you queasy. were they saying they couldn't handle you? that they couldn't handle being your friend? suddenly all your insecurities and worries crash against you like a wave.
jordan was one of your closest friends at godolkin. they had helped you through so much stuff, you couldn't even imagine a day when you didn't share your favorite snack with them, or where you didn't spend some time together at the gym, training together.
“handle what?” you asked, anxiously playing with your hands.
jordan met your eyes then, and all the usual sharp edges in their voice melted away. “you. i can’t handle you.”
you froze, heart beating hard against your chest. “me?”
“yeah.” jordan laughed, a soft, embarrassed sound. “you make me… nervous. and that’s not a thing that happens to me. ever.”
there was a beat of stunned silence, and then your mouth curled into a smile. “i make you nervous?”
“oh, don’t look so proud,” jordan muttered, cheeks red.
you took a step closer. “oh, but how could i not when i make the jordan li nervous.”
“i'm regretting starting this conversation,” they said shaking their head with a faint smile pulling at their lips.
you shook your head. “no, no. please tell me exactly how i do it. is it my dad jokes that you like? or the fact that i couldn't win a fight against a mouse?”
this time, when the cool breeze messed your hair, jordan didn't hold back. they reached out, gently pushing the strands away from your eyes.
“i think it's the way you look at me,” they said, their voice barely above a whisper. “like that. you're doing it right now.”
“i'm not doing anything.”
but you were. the way you were batting your eyelashes, the soft glow in your eyes as you looked at them… it was doing wonders to jordan's heart.
“to be honest, i didn't know you could get nervous.” you huffed a laugh.
“neither did i.” they let out a shaky breath. “but i do. around you.”
for a brief moment you stared up at them, heart pounding, then said softly, “you don’t have to be nervous. i like you too, you know.”
jordan blinked. “you– wait, what?”
“i like you,” you repeated, grinning now. “like, like-like you.”
jordan’s face split into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, half-disbelieving, half overjoyed. for once in a very long time, they were speechless.
you took the opportunity to step closer. if you were honest with yourself it felt good to know you made jordan squirm with merely a look and a grin. as you reached for their hand, you swear you could see the way their eyes slightly opened wide, breathing stuttering.
“i really do make you nervous, huh.”
“you just said you like me,” they whisper, eyes locked on your mouth.
“i do. i like you, jordan.”
they huff a nervous laugh. “okay, good. um.. that's good.”
“yeah?”
“yeah. because i… i like you too.” jordan then laughs, a loud, bark of a laugh. “shit. i said it. i like you. i really like you.”
their hands intertwined with yours and they squeezed them gently. they smiled so wide you couldn't help but smile with them.
“you have no idea how long i've wanted to say it,” jordan admits.
“well, i'm glad you finally did it.” you grin, stepping closer until the points of your shoes touched.
“yeah, me too.” their confession is barely a whisper against your lips. once again, jordan's eyes drop to your mouth. “can i-?”
“please.”
the kiss was soft, even shy. jordan's lips felt so tender against your own, like they were mapping every line. and when you felt the gentle pull of their teeth you sucked in a shaky breath. against their nature, jordan pulled away you.
when you opened your eyes you found them smiling like an idiot, their forehead pressed to yours and their lips still a mere couple of inches away from your own.
when they pull back, they’re smiling like an idiot.
they shook their head. “i can't believe i've been missing on this because i was too scared to admit my feelings.”
“don't worry. we got all the time in the world to make up for it, jordan.”
that night, jordan laid in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to stop smiling.
for once, the world didn’t feel like a fight to survive.
it felt like they could finally allow themselves to want. and it was thanks to you.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
pairing: jordan li x gn!reader
summary: (based on this request) after a few weeks of tense conversations and doubting your relation ship with jordan, a single trining session with professor cipher turns everything upseide down. you become the target of a brutal fight neither you nor jordan ever truly chose. knocked unconscious and heartbroken, you wake to a devastated jordan, drowning in guilt over every bruise on your skin.
c.warning: spoilers for season 2 of gen v; all pronouns used for jordan; they/them pronouns for reader; use of yn (once i think); reader has lightning powers; descriptions of violence; angst and hurt with a soft ending; (as always, if i forgot something lmk).
a/n: let's not talk about how long it took me to actualy post this... this past month was a bit rough on me, but i'm gad to be back. anyway, hope you like what i did with the request. i feel like maybe i took a different path than what you might've had in mind, but i couldn't help it. i got carried away with the whole cipher mind control thing. hope you like it !!
requests | masterlist
for the past few weeks, the tension between jordan and you has been increasing dangerously. and it isn’t the kind of tension that makes the hairs on the back of your head stand and your hands tremble with anticipation.
no, it’s the kind that has both of you snapping at each other, avoiding calls and ignoring text messages. the kind of tension that makes you doubt your relationship.
you tried to rationalize it. jordan was under so much pressure lately, and your new training sessions with cipher had been taking a huge toll on them. so much so that after every session at the concrete gym they returned to their dorm exhausted, muscles sore and head pounding due to the stress and tiredness, not even kissing you goodnight before closing their dorm door in your face.
and the tension dragged on for so long… until one day it exploded in your face.
you’re sitting outside, eating lunch with jordan and your group of friends, taking a short break before heading for your class with cipher.
jordan is sitting next to you in their male form, silently eating as they stare off at the horizon, not really paying attention to you or the other girls at the table. you try to strike up conversation several times, receiving only a grunt or a simple nod. until you decide you've had enough.
“jordan. what is wrong, babe?” you ask them. “talk to me, please.”
he lets out a long, heavy sigh. “can you not? i don't wanna do this right now.”
“i just want to understand what's happening to us.” you look at them, eyes almost pleading.
“won't you just fucking listen to me, yn?” he snaps. the fork he was holding clatters against the wooden table and you raise your eyebrows, surprised by his reaction. “i don't want to talk about it right now.”
he stands, pushing the metal chair with such force that it falls back. you flinch at the aggressiveness of his actions, but no one seems to notice and jordan storms off before you can say anything else.
“dick,” marie murmurs, following jordan as they vanish into the school building. when she returns her gaze to you, she gifts you a soft smile. “don't worry. they'll come around.”
“yeah, and if they don't we'll beat their ass.” this time is emma who speaks. “i mean, you will. i don't think i can even throw a punch properly.”
marie laughs. “shouldn't you be in class with miss tooth fairy or something?”
emma just shrugs, leaning back to face the warm sun. “meh.”
it's an hour later when you finally meet jordan again at cipher's practice. they’re sitting on the floor, stretching in their female form, but they don’t even look up at you as you enter the room. her hair is now pulled up in a half-up and they look pissed.
you're about to take one step towards them when the giant metal doors behind you close with a loud thud. confused, you look around. not every student has arrived yet. in fact, there's only four of you. your eyes travel from marie to cate and then back to jordan, who's now looking around, expression as confused and aware as yours.
“what is this?” asks marie, taking one single step forward. both you and jordan join immediately, flaking her on each side.
“oh? it's just one of our usual training sessions.”
“no, it's not. more than half of the group is missing,” you say pointedly, arms stretched out as you look at the empty space.
“yeah, they were not worthy of my time.” cipher flicks away an invisible speck from his suit jacket. “besides, it’s easier this way. get in pairs.”
jordan’s shoulders slump, but they get up and immediately turn to marie. she nods, already walking towards one of the corners of the room. you try to ignore the sting their actions cause. then, cipher’s voice sounds again.
“no. jordan i want you to fight our little lightning bolt over here.”
“i really don’t think…” you start.
before you can even finish the sentence, jordan’s fist slams against your chin.
the force of the hit sends you flying several feet back, your body smashing against the concrete wall like a rag doll.
“jordan! what the fuck?” marie's voice sounds muffled as your head spins.
you rise to your feet, slightly stumbling in the process. cate immediately comes to your side, grabbing you by your arms to help you stand.
“you're so incredible weak,” jordan says as she walks in your direction, eyes locked on yours.
your heart is pounding wildly inside your chest as you try to understand what the actual fuck is going on right now.
in all the time you'd fought together in this arena, never, not even once, had jordan dared to hit you like this. whenever you trained together, they did their best to keep their powers under control, to never use their maximum force against you. it had always bothered cipher, that much you knew. but neither you nor jordan ha ever been able to harm each other.
so then… why now? what on earth is going on?
“jordan, what are you doing?” you murmur, blinking away the thin streak of blood running down your brow.
they ready for a second round of fast, heavy hits. you take most of them. even though you try to dodge, they’ve always been stronger and faster than you. jordan dashes around you, landing punches and kicks wherever they find and opening to. you blink and they’re on your right, arms up with a new wave of power prepared.
this time, you do manage to dodge it, hiding behind a column just in time.
“jordan, stop!” marie begs, throwing two individual scarlet threads to hold their arms. jordan snaps them like they're made of paper.
you come out from behind the column, raising your arms in a sign of defeat.
“i don’t want to fight you, jordan. not like this.”
they bark out a sardonic laugh. “of course you’d say that. you’re a coward. i've known since day one.”
tears blur your vision but you don’t have time to shed them. switching forms, jordan comes for you again, landing a punch to your gut that makes you double over, gasping for air.
the pain –both physical and emotional– clouds your mind to the point of you not even being able to conjure the tiniest spark of lightning. and even if you managed to do it, you don't think you could ever throw it in jordan's direction.
“come on!” jordan drags out, fists ready for the next blow. “fight me! hit me! come. on!”
with the little strength in you, you throw a laughable punch at them. it doesn’t land, obviously, and it gives jordan the upper hand, offering her the perfect opening to throw a new kick to your side.
with two broad steps, they're standing in front of you once again. almost instantly, you take a step back, and you'd swear you see a flick of sadness cloud jordan’s gaze. but then they speak again.
“i shoul've gotten rid of you a long time ago.”
this time, you can't help the tear that slides down your cheek.
“jordan, why are you doing this? baby, please, let's just-”
throwing their arms in front of them, jordan blasts a second wave of energy, sending you flying across the arena again.
“no!” cate screams, immediately running to try to stop jordan, but she suffers the same fate. the crack of cate's back against the wall is so loud you hear it from where you're laying on the floor.
your ribs hurt and you think you might've broken a few, turning the simple act of breathing into a nightmare. you can taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth, but nothing compares to the foul taste of knowing the cause of all this pain is the person you love the most.
jordan appears in your vision again, standing above you with an impassable look in her face. she tilts their head, assessing your state. they click their tongue, as if your bruised and bloodied face somehow wasn't enough.
“you haven't tried to use your powers even once,” they say, voice sharp like a blade.
“i don’t…” you try to talk, even though every word hurts. “i don't want to hurt you.”
“then what's the fucking point?” they throw their arms in an exasperated gesture and your body instinctively flinches, expecting another hit. “do you realize how useful that power of yours could be? i mean, you're not in my top ten best powers, but your lightning could be such a useful weapon.”
you frown, looking up at them. they know exactly how much you hate your powers because of the harm they've caused in your life. you’ve shared your deepest fears, they’ve seen you cry over your powers because they make you feel like a monster. you didn’t know by sharing those little pieces of you with jordan you were giving them the best ammunition to use against you.
pushing off the floor you glare at them. “i’m not a fucking weapon.”
jordan scoffs. “clearly not now. but you could be.”
“i don’t want to be a monster, jordan. what the fuck is wrong with you?”
the lights in the room flicker slightly. once, twice.
jordan’s lips twist in a wicked grin. “there it is! finally, the little lightning has come out to play.”
“i don’t know what you’re trying to get from this, jordan. are you mad at me? we can talk about it. we don’t have to…”
this time, you manage to dodge the ball of energy sent your way. it explodes against the wall, leaving a crater the size of your head.
“that could’ve killed me, jordan!” you exclaim, eyes wide open.
jordan shrugs. they shrug.
“so could’ve the other three blasts. yet, here you are. standing straight and finally doing something about it.”
“why do you want me to fight you?” you ask, tone desperate. “you’ve been acting weird for weeks and now… honestly, what is going on, jordan?”
“oh my god. will you drop it and focus on the fucking task at hand? hit me!”
and this time you do feel the tingle of your powers on your fingertips, that burning sensation in the center of your chest that you’ve learnt to recognize as your body charging up.
and when you let loose, the sphere of lighting flies straight for jordan’s chest.
naturally, they dodge it. but you notice something in the way they move. their movements… they don’t seem natural. your next zap manages to hit them and jordan hisses, grabbing at their injured arm. immediately your heart drops, thinking you’ve gone too far. but when they look up at you again, there’s no pain in their eyes. instead, you find a challenge.
“now we’re talking.”
it’s right then that the rain of hits really starts. but this time, you’re ready for it.
jordan attacks again, faster this time as they switch into their male form, attacking from angles you know only because you’ve trained with them before.
punch to the jaw. you duck.
kick to the knee. you block with a lightning shield.
you meet every attack, sparks exploding across the arena floor.
right now you can’t focus on whatever marie and cate are doing, you can only watch jordan as they circle around you, like a predator taunting their prey.
you’re tiring quickly; chest heaving, head spinning. and jordan isn’t. they know they have the upper hand, and the cruel smile that pulls at their lips as you see the realization hits makes you stomach twist into a knot.
jordan sweeps your legs from under you, causing you to hit the floor with a painful thud. your breath whooshes out. instantly, he pins you to the ground, forearm to your throat. a purple-ish halo starts oozing from your body, engulfing jordan within it, too. your hands shake at their sides, lightning whining dangerously.
“jordan… stop.” you choke out. “i don’t… i don’t want to do this.”
but their expression remains empty. hollow. and it fucking kills you.
you shake your head. it's true, jordan's been distant the past few weeks, pushing you away. and you thought they were mad at you, even though you didn't fully understand why; you thought tonight's practice with cipher would offer you the best opportunity to talk things out.
you didn't expect today's class to end up like this, though.
pain and confusion twist through your gut, mixing with something entirely different this time.
anger.
fine. if they're so determined to fight, you're not going down easy. you’re done not fighting back.
you throw a full blast of electricity against jordan's chest, the intensity of it burning the palms of your hands. their body barely moves, but it gives you enough margin to push yourself up from the floor. coughing and wheezing, and readying your next charge.
“okay, fine,” you whisper bitterly, “so we're doing this.”
“something's wrong,” marie whispers from somewhere near you.
you huff a humorless laugh. “yeah, no shit.”
“no, yn. marie’s right. there's something very off about jordan right now.”
jordan just… cuckles.
“i'll admit i'm having so much fun right now.” with a simple brush of their hand, they send marie a few steps back, making her stumble over her own feet. “if i'd known it's be so much fun to fight you i would have done it earlier.”
“well, we're here now,” you say, trying to hide the pain jordan's words inflict in you. “let's fight.”
“now, don't get too cocky, love. i've been beating your ass for over thirty minutes.”
“i didn't want to hurt you.” i still don't, but you’ve left me no choice.
you launch a bolt of blue-white electricity that streaks across the arena and hits jordan on their side. they stumble back –only slightly– as smoke curls from their shirt. but they don't cry out. they don't even grimace. half their shirt of burned, and yet you don't get any reaction from them.
marie's voice cracks. “yn, i think they're not…”
“not now!” you cut her off.
you're too hurt, too blinded by the betrayal.
when you throw a new surge of lightning, jordan dodges it effortlessly, switching forms mid-air and slamming into you from behind. their arm locks around your throat, pining you against their chest.
it isn't gentle. she grabs you like they're subduing a threat. and your heart shatters.
“jordan- please… why are you doing this to me?”
they don't answer. instead, they apply more pressure. you panic, lightning blasting uncontrollably from your hands, forcing jordan to back off. you wobble on your feet; head heavy with exhaustion, muscles aching from the fight.
your voice is small when you talk. broken.
“what did i do wrong?”
jordan doesn't hesitate. they lunge again.
“yn, move!” marie screams.
you're a second too slow.
jordan catches your wrist, twists, and slams their palm against the side of your neck with superhuman precision. a perfect strike. nerve-targeted. military style.
the kind of blow meant to knock someone out instantly.
you let out a surprised gasp. the warm lightning in your fingertips frizzles out, your knees buckle and you hit the ground, falling like a dead weight.
jordan watches you fall, expression still blank, and you can only look up at them as your vision blurs around the edges.
“jordan, stop!” cate screams, limping towards your unconscious body.
they shift forms again, towering over you like a statue.
marie kneels beside you, checking your pulse with shaking hands.
“yn! oh, god. stay with me, please.”
cate's eyes burn with fury as she looks up at jordan. “you monster.”
cipher laughs in the background, already walking away from the mess. meanwhile, jordan stands perfectly still, breathing hard, fists trembling, eyes still blank.
then a single tear rolls down their cheek.
they don't feel it.
they don't even know it's there.
when you wake up, the first thing you notice is your roommate's lavender incense that always irritates your nose. you immediately recognize the familiarity of your dorm; the band posters, the soft lighting of your bedside lamp. you blink a couple of times, trying to remember what happened before everything faded into black.
“you're awake.”
your body instantly chills at the sound of jordan's voice. he notices the tension coiling your muscles and it fucking destroys them.
“hey.”
this time it's marie who speaks. she's sitting on your roommate's bed, staring at you with soft eyes, as if she were dealing with a scared kitten.
“how are you feeling?”
“like shit,” you murmur with hoarse voice.
“here, take this.” marie offers you a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
jordan watches the exchange from where they're sitting at your desk chair. they don't dare look at you in the eye, though, utterly scared of what they may find in there.
“what happened?” you ask.
the question is followed by a long pause. marie glances at jordan, a silent question i her eyes. he had asked her to be present in the room when you woke up, scared that seeing them first high fresh from your black-out would trigger you after what they'd done to you.
a few hours earlier, the instant cipher's hold on jordan has vanished, she had fallen on their knees, sobbing as they held your unconscious body tightly against their chest. marie had never seen her friend that sad, that…. broken.
“do you want me to…?” marie asks jordan.
they glance at you, laying on your bed, patched up and bruised. they shake their head.
“we figured out cipher's power,” marie tells you, tone careful. she signals jordan to come over, but they remain in the chair. distance feels safer; for you,and for them.
they're completely unable to get close to you. not when they're to blame for your state. seeing the patches of purple and blue blooming all over your skin is making them sick, and they've lost count of the times they've cried already just by looking at them.
“what is it?” your voice trembles slightly, maybe with tiredness, maybe with fear.
marie steals a glance at jordan. “it's… uh…”
“he controls people.”
their voice is clipped and they hate the way you seem to jump when you hear it again. your heart speeds up and your fists close tight, as if your own body was getting ready for a second round of fighting without you even knowing it.
“he gets inside your head and controls your every movement. every word that comes out of your mouth.”
you can only gasp, putting the pieces together.
“jordan…” you whisper.
marie helps you sit up, and your pained groan makes something inside jordan twist with both sadness and anger.
“i was there, you know,” they continue, swallowing hard. “the whole fucking time. i was there. every punch, every word i said… i was watching the whole thing, like he was driving and i was in the backseat. forced to watch myself inflict so much… pain.”
you see jordan's eyes grow brighter with unshed tears, and you call their name again. they look up at you, hurt seeping from every pore.
“come here. please?”
“do you want me to leave you two alone?” marie asks, hand resting gently on your shoulder.
“yes.”
“no,” both you and jordan answer at the same time. jordan glances at you, shaking their head. “i don’t want to hurt you again…”
“you won’t,” you assure them, patting the empty spot next to you on your bed.
“i-“
“you’re safe here, jordan,” you whisper and they scoff, a small smile pulling at their lips. “what?”
“it’s my fault you look like a truck ran you over, yet you're worried about my safety.”
you shake your head, smiling softly. “get over here, please.”
marie looks at you two, admiring the tense, yet soft scene as jordan walks over to your bed and lays down next to you.
she claps once, making her way towards the door. “i’ll leave you two to it, then.”
you feel jordan’s entire body tighten next to you, but this time they don’t complain. when marie finally leaves your dorm you take his hand in yours and interlock your fingers.
“i’m so fucking sorry.” it’s the first thing that comes out of their mouth after a few minutes of silence.
“jordan, it wasn’t your fault.”
“i hit you,” they bite out. thy mere admission of what they did to you makes them sick.
“you were not in control of your actions, jordan. it may have been your body i was fighting, but now i know it wasn’t you on that ring.”
jordan turns on the bed, laying on their side so he can take a better look at you. and they regret it instantly. the sight of every wound, every bruise, makes their stomach roll.
“does it hurt?” they ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“a little,” you lie. truth is, the mere act of breathing makes you want to cry, but you’re not about to destroy jordan’s feelings any further.
with the tip of their finger, jordan traces the smallest of bruises on your cheek. your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of their touch.
“i’m sorry,” they whisper again. “i’m so fucking sorry.”
“jordan, it’s okay. i heal fast. don’t worry.”
they bark a humorless laugh. “i can’t not worry, baby. not when i let that fucker get into my head and use me as an army puppet against you.”
a shudder shakes jordan’s shoulders as they remember the feeling of their knuckles slamming against your soft skin; the sight of your confusion and fear shining in your eyes as you looked up at them from the floor. they’d felt your blood splash against their cheeks and, had cipher not been in total control of their body functions, they swear they could’ve thrown up right there.
“i felt so… useless. so weak. i was entirely at his mercy. i tried to fight him off, to get him out of my head. but i’m too fucking weak.”
“you’re not,” you whisper, laying gently your palm against their cheek.
“i am. i let him use my own anger against myself. against you.”
that reminds you where all this conflict first started. the conversation you should've had before all this mess began.
“do you know what the worst part is?” jordan asks. you shake your head, staring at the ceiling. “i don't even remember why i was so mad earlier this morning.”
you shrug. “these past few weeks have been tough on us. you’ve been busy, i’ve been clingy…”
“don’t say that.” jordan says. “don’t ever say that. you were not clingy. i was being an asshole, distancing myself from you. yes, i was stressed and so fucking tired, but that doesn’t justify any of this.”
“no. no, it’s doesn’t,” you say softly. “but it explains where the cracks started.”
you two lay in silence for a while; side by side, fingers intertwined, the familiar buzz of other students living their own lives around campus and the humming stillness of your dorm your only company.
jordan shifts just a little closer. not touching beyond your joined hands, but close enough that you feel their heat radiating. after a while, their voice comes small, cracked at the edges.
“i was so scared i might lose you.” you squeeze their hand gently. “when i saw you there, laying on the floor, unmoving… god, i really thought i’d lost you.”
taking your hands to your chest, you spread jordan’s palm against your heart, allowing them to feel the slow, gentle beating of your heart.
“you didn’t.”
jordan looks like they might cry again.
“i thought that maybe you’d wake up and tell me you never wanted to see me again.” their voice breaks. “i wouldn’t have blamed you.”
your thumb grazes over their knuckles.
“jordan, look at me.”
they do. eyes red, jaw tense, heart naked.
“you didn’t choose that. you didn’t choose to hurt me. and i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”
jordan’s entire body trembles with relief. their face presses into your shoulder, breathing you in. their voice muffles against your shirt.
“i’ll spend as long as it takes making up for it. whatever you need; space, time, anything.”
“i don’t need space. i just need honesty. and you.”
jordan nods slowly. then they lean back just enough to see your face fully. their gaze softens, sadness melting into something warmer.
“hey,” jordan murmurs gently.
you smile. “hi.”
“you’re safe now. we’re safe.”
your eyes sting a little, and you nod. jordan leans closer, dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. their entire body seems to relax when you don’t flinch or jump away from their touch. their breath fans your lips, warm and faintly shaky as jordan rests their forehead against yours.
“can i stay with you tonight?” jordan whispers.
“yes, please.”
you shift, making space on the pillow. jordan curls into you and you almost hum with contentment. god, you’d missed this, being this close to jordan, feeling their breath against the sensitive skin of you neck, hearing the soft groans coming out of them as you run your fingers through their hair. one of jordan’s hands stays in yours, your fingers naturally reconnecting like muscle memory.
eventually, sleep slips over both of you. jordan’s head rests on your chest, their cheek pressed to your heart, the soft rhythm of it like a comforting lullaby.
and when morning light filters in, the bruises are still there, and the memory of pain hasn’t fully vanished. but you wake to a relaxed jordan, fingers still interlocked, their head tucked into your shoulder, steady breaths brushing your collarbone.
and you’re not afraid anymore.
you’re not alone.
you’re already healing, and even though you know the events of last night might leave a scar, you’re happy to know jordan will be there with you, walking beside you all the way through the healing process.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
pairing: jordan li x gn!reader
summary: (based on this request) you spend weeks trying (and miserably failing) to ask jordan li out, constantly interrupted by bad timing, nerves, and god u chaos. only to find out that all that planning and anxiety was not necessary and that sometimes it's just better to simply spit it out.
c.warning: they/them pronouns for jordan, no physical descriptions of reader, lots of unresolved feelings and mutual pining, reader has been jordan's friend since high school (if i missed anything let me know!)
a/n: two jordan li posts in a day? don't say i don't spoil you guys. anyway, i'm so so so sorry it took me so long to post this. i did have a lot of fun writing this, though, and i hope you enjoy it as much reading it <3.
requests | masterlist
you decide you’re going to ask jordan li out on a tuesday.
after years of knowing them, of sharing secrets and holding each other through some of the worst episodes in your lives, you’ve decided it’s finally the time you try to take your friendship one step ahead.
so you decide to ask them out. on a tuesday.
this feels important. and tuesdays are neutral. not cursed like mondays, not chaotic like fridays. tuesdays don’t ask too many questions. tuesdays mind their business.
so: tuesday. you’ll do it on tuesday.
that morning, you practice in your head while brushing your teeth.
hey, jordan, do you maybe want to grab coffee sometime?
too casual. sounds like you don’t care.
hey, jordan, i was wondering if you’d want to go out with me.
too serious. sounds like you’re inviting them to a work meeting.
hey, jordan—
you spit toothpaste into the sink and groan.
god. you’ve fought supes stronger than them. you’ve stared down professors who actively hated you. you’ve survived god u’s cafeteria food, for fucks sake. this should not be this hard.
but jordan li is… jordan li.
and you like them. you have for a long time.and you’d hate to mess up at such a vital moment in both your lives.
which is why, when you walk into the quad that tuesday and spot them leaning against a tree, arms crossed, jaw sharp, sunlight catching in their hair…
your brain immediately forgets how to function.
jordan notices you instantly because of course they do. they always do.
“hey,” jordan says, straightening. “you’re late.”
you blink. “i am?”
“five minutes,” they reply, showing you their phone screen. “i timed it.”
you scoff. “of course you did.”
you take a breath, trying to slow down your heart. okay. do it now. before you chicken out.
“jordan, i-”
“jordan!” andre’s voice cuts across the quad like a siren. “brink moved the sparring session up! you coming?”
jordan groans, tipping their head back. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
andre jogs over, then notices you. “oh. hey.”
“hey,” you say weakly.
jordan looks back at you, something apologetic flickering in their eyes. “what were you gonna say?”
your courage wavers. just a little. enough to make you huff a laugh and shake your head.
“it’s… uh. nothing. it can wait,” you say. “go. don’t get murdered.”
they snort. “no promises.”
as they jog away, they glance back once. twice.
you stand there, watching their retreating figure, heart pounding.
okay, you tell yourself. so, not tuesday. that’s fine. there will be other days.
the next attempt comes on thursday.
you’re smarter this time. you plan it meticulously. you wait outside the library, where you know jordan likes to study at night. you even bring coffee. their usual order; black, two sugars, extra shot.
when they emerge, looking tired and soft and less guarded than usual, your stomach flips. their eyes land on you almost immediately, as if drawn by a magnet.
“is that for me?” they ask, eyeing the cup.
you nod. “your favorite.”
they take it, fingers brushing yours, and for half a second you swear the world tilts.
“thanks,” they say quietly. “you’re the best.”
you swallow. now, you think, it’s now or never.
“so, jordan, i was thinking maybe we could—”
“hey, li,” cate says, popping up out of nowhere like a horror movie jump scare. “sorry to interrupt, but marie’s freaking out and she needs you.”
jordan sighs. “of course she does.”
they turn back to you. “i’m really sorry.”
you shake your head quickly. “it’s fine. go.”
they hesitate for a second, hating the disappointed look in your face, then nod. “rain check?”
your heart stutters. “yeah. sure.”
they leave with marie, glancing back once more.
you stand there with your own untouched coffee, feeling ridiculous.
rain check, you repeat to yourself. that’s a good sign, right?
the thing is: jordan is not oblivious.
they notice the way you linger. the way you open your mouth and close it again. the way your eyes soften when you look at them, like you’re holding something fragile between your ribs.
they just… don’t want to be wrong.
because jordan li does not do vulnerability lightly.
and if they’re wrong, if this turns out to be just you being friendly and kind and… you-
they don’t think they could handle that kind of reject.
so they wait.
there’s also that time in the hallway, late at night, when you walk together in comfortable silence as jordan walks you to your dorm.
you stop right outside your door.
“hey, jordan,” you say, fingers twisting nervously. “can i ask you something?”
they nod. “yeah.”
you look at them. their eyes are softer in the dim light. less armor. more… jordan. looking almost like the teenager you first met and fell for.
your heart starts racing.
“do you want-” you start.
the fire alarm goes off.
jordan winces, muttering a cuss under their breath. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
students flood the hallway, alarms blaring. some students yell. others laugh.
by the time you’re all outside, standing in the cold and wet from the sprinklers, the moment is gone.
jordan looks at you, frustration clear on their face. “what were you gonna ask?”
you shrug, forcing a smile. “it wasn’t important.”
jordan studies you like they don’t believe that for a second, but they don’t push.
then there’s the movie night.
you’re sitting way too close on the couch. your knees brush. jordan pretends not to notice. you both do.
halfway through the movie, you pause it.
“jordan?” you say softly.
“yeah?”
your voice catches. you can feel their attention fully on you now.
“i really like spending time with you.”
they smile. “me too.”
silence stretches. and your heart pounds so loud you’re sure they can hear it.
“and i was wondering if maybe you’d want to—”
emma bursts into the room yelling, “who wants popcorn?”
you close your eyes, considering giving up at this point. you’re starting to believe the universe has something against you, that for some reason the planets, the stars or whoever else is up there, don’t want you to ask jordan li out.
next to you, jordan lets out a slow breath, jaw tightening.
later, when emma leaves again, jordan says quietly, “you know… you can just say it.”
you look at them. “say what?”
“whatever you’re trying to say.”
but, once again, when you reach inside for the words you find themgone, along with you resolution. so, instead of asking what you really need to ask, you fake a yawn and say, “i’m tired. i should go.”
jordan watches you leave, something heavy settling in their chest.
the breaking point comes on a rainy evening.
you find jordan alone in the training room, sitting on the floor, towel around their neck, staring at nothing.
“you okay?” you ask.
they look up. “yeah. just… thinking.”
you sit beside them. the air feels thick and you both remain in silence for a while.
then out of the blue…
you don’t plan it. it just spills out.
“i’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks.”
jordan freezes, the water bottle they’d been about to bring to their lips now lingering in the air a few inches from their lips.
“you …what?”
you laugh nervously. “yeah. and every time something happens, or i panic, or i think maybe you don’t feel the same, and-”
they turn to face you fully now, eyes wide.
“you… like me?”
you huff a laugh, nodding. “like… a lot, actually. i’ve had a crush on you for a while now. i just… i guess i didn’t want to make things weird between us.”
jordan exhales a shaky laugh, running a hand through their hair.
“god,” they mutter. “i thought i was imagining it.”
you blink. “what?”
“i wanted to ask you out,” they admit. “but i kept thinking, what if i ruin it? what if i read it wrong?”
you stare at them, stunned.
“so,” you say softly, “what you’re saying is we’re both idiots.”
they smile. small. real. and for a second you see the younger version of jordan li that you frist crushed on in high school.
“seems that way.”
you take a breath, setting your shoulders as you fully face them. and this time, you don’t let fear stop you.
“jordan li,” you say, voice steady despite your racing heart, “would you like to go on a date with me?”
they don’t hesitate.
“yes,” they say immediately. “absolutely. yes.”
relief crashes through you, dizzying.
jordan stands, then offers you a hand. “coffee? dinner? anything you want.”
you take their hand. “coffee sounds perfect.”
their smile widens.
“good,” they say. “i was hoping you’d say that.”
this time, finally, nothing gets in the way. two days later you and jordan li share your frist date ever after years of pining after each other.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
something angsty with jordan li? like with a serious injury involved and jordan freaks out ?
pairing: jordan li x gn!reader
w.count: 2.6k
c.warning: established relationship ; blood and descriptions of violence ; angst with happy ending ; they/them pronouns used for jordan ; no specific physical description of reader (if i missed something lmk)
a/n: thank you so much to anon for this ask. hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it.
requests | masterlist
in the midst of the chaos, jordan hears you scream and they feel it in their bones. they look around, frantic, trying to find you among the mess of godolkin students and blood.
they call your name, voice cracking, pulse thundering in their ears. yet there’s no answer. that silence terrifies jordan more than they’re able to admit.
they’re so focused on finding you that they miss the fist flying toward them. it slams into their abdomen, and Jordan doubles over with a pained grunt. Bile burns the back of their throat, and when a second blow lands against their head, black spots flicker at the edges of their vision.
“not so tough anymore, huh?” someone growls beside him.
“jordan, watch out!” marie screams from where she's standing across the field.
this time they manage to dodge the kick —just barely— and land a hard punch to the student’s chest, sending him flying.
“where is yn?” they scream at marie, eyes frantically scanning the area. “where the fuck are they!?”
almost on cue, they hear you scream again. softer this time, weaker.
“shit,” jordan mutters. “shit. fuck. yn!”
“go!” marie yells, but jordan's already sprinting towards the sound of your voice.
getting to you isn't an easy task. they have to shove people away, punch and kick their way to you, and when they finally reach you their knees nearly buckle.
“no. please, no, no, no.”
there's blood. so much fucking blood oozing from your body. you're laying on the ground, eyes barely open and cast to the sky. you don't even flinch as another student trips over your body while fleeing.
jordan drops to their knees immediately, reaching for your hand, needing to feel your skin. relief hits, but when they glance down, the dark red soaking into their jeans steals the air from their lungs.
“shit, shit, shit, shit.”
the wound is big, right in the middle of your chest, the skin melted and torn. your breaths come shallow, your eyes are losing their brightness and focus with every passing second.
“hey, hey. stay with me, yn. please. hey.”
“j-jordan…” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.
“shhh, it's okay. you're okay.”
but the blood won't stop running, and your pulse is getting weaker and weaker. meanwhile, jordan's own heart feels like it's about to split open.
you try to speak again, but it comes out a wet gurgle. the taste of iron floods your mouth; the world blurs. jordan’s voice is gentle, desperate, trying to hold you here. but it’s getting harder to stay.
you're running out of time, you know that much. and you hate that this is the way you leave. you haven't told jordan how much you love them yet. you haven't kissed them nearly enough.
“hey! stay with me, baby. please.” their voice trembles with unshed tears. “marie! somebody, please help!”
“h-hurt…”
“shhhh… i know, baby. i know it hurts.” with a shaky hand, jordan brushes a few bloodied strands of hair out of your face. “but you're so strong, right? you're going to get better, okay? marie!”
“i… jordan, i love…”
jordan shakes their head. “shh. not now. you'll tell me when you're feeling better… just- somebody help-”
jordan's voice is drowned by the buzzing in your ears. you look up at them, hoping they can see in your eyes what you're no longer able to say out loud.
and with one last blink, the sky gray melts and the last thing you see is jordan's tear-stained face.
“holy shit. that's a lot of blood…”
“marie, please. i can't- i can't loose them. i…”
the girl kneels right next to jordan, casting her hands towards your body. her brown knits as she concentrates on the tendrils of blood running like rivers from your body and seeping into the concrete.
“jordan, i… they’ve lost too much blood.”
“don't give up, please. don't- please, help them, marie.” jordan’s voice cracks as they clutch your hand to their chest.
marie keeps trying, focusing on the weak beating of your heart as she tries her best to redirect the blood back into your system. minutes pass, marie starts feeling dizzy, body heavy and trembling with the overuse of her powers. meanwhile, jordan hasn't let go of you, cradling your head against their chest. their hands are shaking and wet with your blood, but they don't stop to consider it as they start brushing your hair away from your face, tracing the curve of your cheeks.
“i don't think… i don't think it's working” marie mumbles, eyes half-closed. “jordan, their heart isn’t picking up.”
jordan's lip trembles. “come on, baby. come back to me, please.”
but your eyes remain closed, your chest barely moving anymore.
“i don't think i can go on much longer…”
jordan looks at their friend, a mixture of panic and defeat coloring their expression. still, as they look down at you, something inside their chest shakes.
this isn’t your end. you’re not done, not with this life, not with them. there’s so much to see, to enjoy together.
you can’t die.
“come on, baby. i promise i'll stop stealing your snacks when i stay in your dorm, yeah? i swear. and… and i'll watch that movie with you, the one you've been insisting on for months. i'll do whatever you want me to. just… please, please come back to me.”
the chaos has subdued around you. the fights have dissipated or moved to a different place. now, all there is left is the silence and finality of their realization.
you're gone.
jordan's wail is so raw that marie can't help but cry for her friend. she seats back, regaining her strength and giving jordan some space. they weep into your hair, rocking both your unmoving body and his, as if that would comfort them. as if that would mitigate the pain of having just lost the love of their life.
“jor… jordan…”
both jordan and marie snap their eyes open, looking down at you. blinking, you regain conscience. the sunlight burns your eyes, making you flinch.
“oh, thank fuck,” jordan whispers, pressing their lips to your forehead. “thank you, thank you. thank you.”
“hurts…” you weakly mumble.
“i know, baby. i know.” they softly kiss your forehead. “marie, please get a medic.”
she immediately scrambles to her feet. “will you be okay?”
“yeah, yeah we'll be fine. right, babe?”
you can barely murmur a response. with one final nod, marie rushes in search of aid, promising to be back soon.
jordan looks down at you, cheeks still glistening with tears. “you scared the shit out of me, you know that?”
“sorry…”
“don't.” jordan shakes their head, tears flooding their eyes once more. “it's okay. you're going to be okay. and when you're healed you're going to tell me who did this to you and i'll deal with them.”
“jordan, no…”
“shhh… don't worry about it now.”
jordan keeps murmuring sweet nothings, more to themselves than to you. meanwhile, you can only lay there, head resting against their chest, feeling the beating of their heart as it slows down with every passing minute.
you’re not entirely sure how musch time passes until you’re taken away in an ambulance. jordan fights their way into the back of the vehicle, inviting the paramedic to kindly fuck off when she says only family is allowed to travel with you.
“we’re almost there, baby. just hold on a bit longer for me, yeah?”
the trip is blurry and disorganised. you don’t remember exactly how you got to the hospital or when they moved you from the er to one of the individual rooms on the third floor.
you do know, however, that jordan’s been right next to you every second of it. even as you dance back and forth in the threshold between consciousness and the darkness and cold of unconsciousness you feel jordan’s hand holding yours tightly. at some point you swear you can hear them cry. their quiet sobs filling the silence of the hospital room.
it’s on the third day after your arrival at the hospital that you hear a new voice argue in whispers next to you. your eyelids are too heavy, your head hurts too much to even think of speaking, but you’re very much aware of marie’s presence. and she doesn’t sound happy.
“it’s been seventy-two hours, jordan. you need to rest. you being here, starving and half-awake, won’t help anyone.”
“marie, i’m not leaving them.”
“jordan…”
“marie.”
you can’t see your friend’s expression but you can imagine her shaking her head, a deep frown painting her face with worry.
“i’ll go pick something for you at the cafeteria. and when i come back, i won’t leave until you eat the whole thing, jordan.”
“you’re not my mom-“
“no, i’m your friend. and i care about you as much as i care about them. i can’t see you like this. and i know yn wouldn't want me to let you do this to yourself.”
“marie, i…” jordan lets their head fall, their voice a ghost against your cold skin. “if they… when they wake up- i don’t want them to wake up to an empty room, okay?”
marie doesn’t say anything else and a few seconds later you hear the soft click of the door closing.
jordan lets out a sigh the instant they're left alone with you again. they can't help but shake in their chair, body taut with stress and exhaustion.
“i really need you to wake up, baby,” they whisper. voice broken and thick with unshed tears. “these past few days have been hell. i can't even imagine what a whole life without you would be like. and i don't want to find out.”
the desperation in their voice cinches your heart. you want to scream, to cry, to promise them you'll never leave.
i'm here. i'm with you.
i love you.
“emma is also pissed. says you ditched her and she had to finish your group project alone.” jordan huffs a laugh. “she really misses you, you know? we all do.”
i miss you too.
jordan's head snaps in your direction.
“what was that?” they ask.
your tongue feels heavy, but you push the words out of your mouth, tired of letting jordan suffer alone.
“i… miss you… too.”
“oh my god.” jordan jumps off the uncomfortable chair, leaning over you. “you're awake.”
you blink a couple of times, getting used to the bright lighting of the hospital room.
“hi,” you mutter, voice rough.
jordan huffs an incredible laugh. “hey, you.”
“my head hurts.”
“i know, baby. i'll go get the doctor, yeah?”
jordan walks to the door and peaks outside, calling for help, and soon there are two nurses hovering over you, chacking vitals, prodding and shining lights into your eyes. you hiss when one of them pulls out in with one swift move.
“hey, watch it,” jordan bites, reaching for the nurse's hand.
“sir, i'm just doing my job.”
“yeah, and you're hurting my partner in the process.”
you raise your free hand, reaching for theirs. “jordan… it's fine.”
with a nod towards the nurse, you invite them to continue their check up. jordan’s attention remains on the nurses, muttering under their breath whenever they make you flinch or huff with their administrations. a few minutes later the nurses leave the room and jordan’s shoulders finally relax.
“are you okay?” they ask, eyes soft as they glance down at you.
“i’m breathing. and considering i was sure i was going to die after that fireball to my chest i’d say i’m doing pretty great right now.”
jordan shakes their head. “only you would joke about that.”
they sit back down, sliding the chair as close to your bed as possible, until their knees are pressed against the cold metal.
“are you okay?” you ask, brushing your fingers along their cheek. they close their eyes at the contact, their mind still catching up, realizing it isn’t a dream and you really are alive.
“i am now.”
that makes you smile softly.
“so… how bad does it look?” you ask suddenly. when jordan opens their eyes again they find you glancing at your chest, at the cream-colored bandage peaking from under the ugly blue hospital gown.
“it’s better now. the skin has already started to regenerate, although the doctor said it qill probably leave a mark.” jordan’s voice is soft and gentle as they repeat exactly what the doctor told them yesterday when they came up for a rutinary check up.
“great. so i’ll have to live with a huge fucking burn scar right in the middle of my chest for the rest of my life. awesome.”
jordan’s heart breaks when they notice the first tears gathering in your eyes.
“hey. hey. look at me.” it’s jordan’s turn to cup your face in their hands, tracing slow, gentle circles on your skin. “you’re beautiful. scars or no scars. you hear me?”
“you’re just saying that because… because you’re you and i’m me and…”
“and i love you,” they finish the sentence for you. “yeah. but i’m also saying it because those scars mean you fought and survived, baby. from now on, every time you look at yourself in the mirror and see that you’ll know that you survived a fucking ball of fire to your chest.”
you let out a ragged breath, the first tears rolling down your cheeks.
“and you won’t have to like it all the time. there will even be days when you hate the sight of the scar. but that is completely fine, because i’ll be there to love it for you when you can’t.”
you press your cheek into their palm, words tumbling out of your mouth before you know it.
“i love you, jordan.”
their lips pull in a soft smile, eyes glinting as they stare deep into yours. “i know.”
leaning closer, they press their lips against yours in a soft kiss. they kiss you like they’re scared you’ll break under the gentle pressure. your eyes flutter closed and you almost whine into their mouth, remembering those instants days ago when you thought you would never get to experience this again.
“i love you too,” jordan whispers against your lips, forehead pressed to yours.
“well, it’s good to see you’re awake and catching up.”
you huff a laugh as emma and marie enter the room. jordan mutters something under their breath as they sit back down on the chair. marie laughs as she tosses a paper bag in their direction.
“eat up, jordie.”
“don’t fucking call me that,” they bark.
you pout. “aw, i like it. why didn’t i think of it first.”
marie laughs. “don’t worry, you can trademark it.”
she takes her place on a spare chair on the opposite side of the bed to jordan’s. meanwhile, emma leans over the bar at the end of your bed, arms crossed against the metal.
“what are you even talking about right now?” jordan asks as they pull out a sandwich from the bag.
“oh, jordie. don’t be so cranky,” you mutter, turning your head in their direction.
surprisingly, this time jordan doesn’t complain about the nickname.
emma barks a laugh. “oh, you’re so whipped it’s almost embarrassing.”
“shut the fuck up, meyer.” jordan takes a huge bite off their sandwich, avoiding everyone’s stares. but you can only smile as you glance at them, then at your friends.
you take a hand to your chest, feeling the roughness of the bandage under your fingertips. yeah, you’ll probably hate the scar when you get to see it for the first time, but right now all you can think about is the soft thumping of your heart underneath your palm.
you’re alive and surrounded by people who love you and care about you. and that’s enough to make you forget about your scarred skin or the frightful coldness of death.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
