Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When they fuck the first time, it’s not pretty. 

But you have to understand Jordan here. It’s not their fault they ended up like this, not really. 

The whole situation surrounding their first time was damn near fucking unbearable. So you really can’t blame them for how the whole thing went down. 

It was persistent: months of build up, tension, frustration, snarky barbs, insults, heated and salacious gazes–the kind that turns your eyes into slits and lights your belly on fire–just flat out disscontempt for each other had piled on top of each other into one heaping mess until one day…they just…snapped. 

And Jordan blames Vought for it. 

They blame Vought for the way Jordan’s tongue had immediately shoved itself into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth, for the way their hands had gripped onto her ass through the stupid bright red leather of her super-hero get up, the way fucking goosebumps had erupted down Jordan’s spine at hearing Marie’s desperate moans while she begged for Jordan to go harder, deeper. 

So yeah, they blame Vought for all of it. 

Especially because the next few times after that aren’t pretty either. They’re actually a lot worse, like it’s damn near appalling.

To the point where Jordan’s fairly sure Marie’s trying to kill them. And to be completely honest with you, Jordan can’t quite say they blame her.  

Jordan had been brutal and unwelcoming towards Marie from the moment she had stepped into the perfectly pristine halls of Vought Tower.

And it didn’t come as much of a shock to anyone involved, from the minute Luke died in a tragic accident, and Ashley had told them, not even two weeks later that they had already re-casted for a position in The Seven, everyone knew that Jordan would resent them, whoever they were.

But it wasn’t even that. Jordan didn’t just decide that they would resent Marie the moment Ashley had pulled up her ‘too-perfect’ head shot on the projector. 

Jordan also decided to hate her. 

And like, they really did. 

And they hated her even more (if possible) once they finally met in person. 

The newbie. Marie Moreau, or ‘Bloody Marie’ as her new Vought superhero name denoted, immediately pissed Jordan off from the get-go. 

She had followed Ashely like an eager puppy through the halls into the boardroom to meet the rest of The Seven. Her doe-eyes were bright and shining, a wide close-mouth smile etched on her face as she lifted a hand to form a shy wave to the room. 

All it took was for her to express her gratitude and excitement to fight along people she had never even met before to “save lives” for Jordan to pinpoint exactly why she left a sour taste in Jordan’s mouth. 

Because now it wasn’t just the abrupt Luke replacement thing, it was everything else about her. 

She was the painfully naive, a bright-eyed try-hard who very clearly thought the job of being a Vought hero was all sunshine, daisies, and good old-fashioned superhero work. 

(Spoiler alert: it’s not). 

But from the seemingly incessant twinkling in her eye, clearly she didn’t know that. 

And it became all the more worse once Jordan did a little bit of digging on her background. Not because they were stalking her or anything, they just wanted to learn more about her powers. About what exactly Vought saw in her to warrant her as a replacement so quickly. For her to be the one who got to disrupt everything Jordan’s known for the past 5 years of their life. 

And learn they did. 

It turned out, Marie perpetually acted like a bright-eyed child in a candy store because she essentially was one. 

The girl was only 20 years old, had graduated from God U two years early on the same academic scholarship that Jordan had had 7 years prior. (Except Jordan never graduated early, despite double majoring and maintaining a 4.0 grade point average even in light of all of their advanced classes). But whatever. 

Vought had been eyeing Marie since her sophomore year of college when she’d saved a sorority girl from bleeding out when they’d accidentally cut themselves on God U’s campus. 

She’d skyrocketed to #1 that year. And Jordan’s seen the footage from Vought’s records. 

It was fucking unnerving to watch the giant pool of blood disappear back into someone’s body like that, as if the mess had never been there in the first place. Which was exactly why it was no wonder Vought wanted her. 

She was an orphan, and had previously been at a shelter before her benefactor Victoria Newman got her a free-ride into college, though Jordan thought it wasn’t very random for such a polarizing congresswoman to be interested in her. 

Considering the extensive information Vought had on Marie, her records, her (lack of) social media history and familial ties, her grade and class status as she progressed through college, Jordan only came to a single conclusion. 

It wasn’t Luke’s death that had brought Marie to The Seven. 

She would’ve been there regardless. Victoria had discovered Marie before Vought had, and it was clear she had pushed Marie into God U’s or Vought’s direction on purpose. Marie was an orphan, which meant no one had to go through her parents for approval of anything that was done with her. Vought had loose records on Marie’s sister (an address and an email), but her and Marie clearly hadn’t had contact, which meant anyone could use her last remaining family as leverage if needed. She was the perfect candidate to be used and manipulated. 

This was all a very calculated move on Victoria’s end. Victoria probably made sure Marie was able to graduate early because she was already T-ed up to be in The Seven anyways, Luke’s accident and the timing of the replacement had just happened earlier than expected.  Because even if Luke hadn’t had the accident, Marie would’ve been in The Seven no matter what, and considering Victoria’s influence, it would’ve likely been immediately after her graduation

Which meant she would’ve replaced one of them. 

It was clear from the emphasis on her powers in the Vought files that her purported healing abilities were coveted. They didn’t have anyone like that in The Seven currently, or even in the past during Homelander’s time. 

Cate had mind control, Rufus had astral projection, Maverick invisibility, Jordan gender-based powers, Andre metal control, Steve regeneration, and Sam super-strength. 

But no healing. 

No ability to suck the blood back into someone’s body as if the injury had never even happened. 

More importantly, no ability to clean up messes. 

Because Jordan saw it clearly now.

Vought wanted her so badly because she was there to prevent liabilities. To make things disappear when things got messy. 

So that what happened to Luke and the absolute mess of legal repercussions that resulted wouldn’t happen ever again. 

Which meant she was even more of a Vought tool than she realized. And of course the poor naive 20-year-old who was “excited to help” wouldn’t know what hit her once she realizes. 

She wouldn’t last through the year.

At least that’s what Jordan had thought, until she started interviewing. 

She’d been shaky at first, but soon became a natural in front of the camera. She was also conventionally attractive enough for people to like her on their screens constantly. Despite this attractiveness, she had this almost shy and endearing disposition, yet still managed to read determined and optimistic. It was a difficult balance, but it was clear to Jordan from the beginning that she knew what to say, and more importantly, how to say it. And as a result, audience members practically considered her freaking mother Teresa, as if the concept of a superhero who saved people and enjoyed it hadn’t been there all along. 

As if Jordan hadn’t been there all along. 

Because up until Marie, no one else in The Seven had ever truly wanted to be heroes. 

Sam just liked to punch things and get his anger and frustrations about his fucked up Vought-ridden childhood out of system. Cate felt an intrinsic sense of guilt every time she used her powers to push someone. Rufus and Maverick only used their powers for good because they were getting paid, and to keep up imaging, otherwise they were using it to secretly perv on some poor, unsuspecting soul. Andre never even wanted to be in The Seven, he was only there to make his Dad happy, and Steve was originally only there to try and one-up Luke in competition (which, even in death, would never happen). 

Jordan was the one who wanted to be a hero, who wanted to help people, who truly had the means, the power set, to do so. The only issue was that this was never able to be conveyed to the public. 

At least not initially. When Jordan was first hired at the age of 24, a few years after graduating from God U, they were not welcomed with open arms. The public considered Jordan a “diversity hire”; they were “confusing” and “pushing an agenda” on children and to the public about gender. Vought had tried to push Jordan hard in the beginning to show that it wasn’t the case (even though Vought sort of totally hired Jordan to get

brownie points with blue states after the whole polarizing Homelander fiasco). 

But Vought never allowed Jordan to just be themselves for those interviews: it was always either them appearing in one form or the other, being extra girly or masculine for the screen. There was actually a point in time where some factions of the public thought Jordan was two different people, or twins. 

And it pissed Jordan off. 

And especially in female form, they reportedly were not a good enough actor to hide that fact at the time. 

In the early days, through the scant Vought info-mercials, interviews, and televised event appearances, it was clear. Jordan came off at best in their female form as awkward and stilted, and at best in their male form as overly jubilant. But it wasn’t enough. Because of course it wasn’t. 

They had soon dropped the fake niceties and Vought lines during interviews. And this was just around their second or third major talk show interview, back when they were still fairly new to the world. 

And the minute Jordan started being their real self was (almost) the beginning of the end for them. 

They—and the public—realized very quickly that Jordan wasn’t very charismatic on screen. They weren’t pageant worthy like Luke or Cate. They weren’t smooth-talking jokesters like Rufus or even Maverick. They weren’t endearing and familiar like Andre. (At the very least they weren’t borderline unnerving like Sam was, but that hadn’t mattered). 

Because the feedback had started piling in. It was the same thing every time. 

They were told they came off brooding. 

Mean. 

Hostile. 

Too mysterious. Too quiet. Too serious. 

They off-put too many of the older generation with their “too cool for school” disposition. Parents didn’t want someone who maybe sort of hated them and their own situation, be responsible for saving them or their kids. 

They weren’t connecting with the right demographics when they spoke without a script. And they would never get to Golden-Boy or Homelander or Queen Maeve level star power because of it.

Jordan had been forced to stop interviewing around a year into their career, they subliminally shaded Vought for the early shit they put Jordan through too often for this to not become a major issue with them. 

The only thing really saving Jordan at that point was the airtight contract they had entered into preventing them from being fired, and the fact that Jordan had learned to bite their tongue in the consequent years. 

They didn’t appear in any solo or unscripted interviews in the following years, and Vought reluctantly started building Jordan’s brand in other ways. Mainly in the form of Instagram thirst traps and photoshoots, and designer clothing brand deals. 

And it actually worked. 

It turned out the public much preferred Jordan when they kept their mouth shut, and when they were able to choose between which version of them they wanted to thirst after. Jordan was the new trend amongst younger people (and secretly for an ashamed older generation). They became the sort of cool, new, and confusing sex symbol for Vought. They were suddenly being booked for Calven Klein underwear ads, and to post silent workout videos to their youtube channel for Sports Illustrated. It worked for Vought because they could exploit Jordan in either gender. And all Jordan had to do was not open their mouths to ruin the illusion. All things they had succeeded in for 4 years until Marie came along and fucked everything.

And Jordan supposed they stopped caring about it a while ago. Stopped really caring about being a hero and started caring more about looking mysterious and hot on camera because it brought them more branding, more money, and an endless revolving door of people to have sex with. They were in a good position despite their rocky beginnings. All they had to do was do the job they were paid for. 

They were still secretly cynical about Vought, and they always would be, but there was nothing they could do about it now. Especially not after what happened to Luke. 

Which is exactly why Marie absolutely infuriates them. 

Her absolute praise of Vought when she had first arrived at Seven Tower was deeply vexing. It was actually almost shocking how much resentment and hatred had unfurled in their stomach at her jovial arrival. Because it had brought back thoughts about Vought that Jordan hadn’t experienced in a long while, not since the beginning of their career where they felt at their most vulnerable and useless. 

Especially because Jordan knows what Vought is capable of, what Vought has done to Jordan and everyone else in The Seven, and what Vought will do to bright-eyed lambs like her. 

So, Jordan hates Marie (for justified reasons in their opinion), and Marie soon begins to hate Jordan back (for highly unjustified reasons in their opinion). 

Which is exactly why the universe of course had to thank Jordan by forcing them to be in a fake relationship with her. 

But they’ll get to that later. 

…

“Looks like we have some fresh meat,” Rufus whispers none too quietly to Maverick, who’s an outline of a floating pair of glasses in the Vought conference room. 

The Marie girl had just left with Ashley after introducing herself to the rest of the members. Practically leaving a shit trail of lollipops and rainbows in her wake.

Jordan catches Cate rolling her eyes at Rufus out of their periphery. And Jordan has to actively prevent themselves from doing the same. 

Everyone knew Rufus was a piece of shit, but there was nothing to be done about it. 

Rufus was in The Seven for a reason. His and Cate’s powers combined to psychologically torture the ‘big bads’ were important, and reliable. And Rufus in particular was a fan favorite with white, red-state teen boys. Vought’s attempt at addressing every possible audience in the United States was valiant, and Jordan was loath to say that it was kind of working. 

So yeah, even if Jordan wanted to bash in Rufus’ and Maverick’s, (and basically everyone in the Seven besides Cate’s) faces in, they would never be able to. That was one provision in their contract that was non-negotiable. 

They weren’t allowed to use their powers on each other, they were only allowed to use them in controlled environments like sparring practice, or else Homelander would be called out of retirement to laser their sorry asses into oblivion. 

“You neanderthals better leave her alone, she seems sweet,” Cate says pointedly to Rufus, who just shrugs. 

Jordan sees the look Andre and Steve share with each other out of the corner of their eye. And it sort of makes their spine stiffen. 

Both Andre and Steve have “long term” girlfriends (more like long term PR contracts with hot actresses) but that was besides the point. 

Because Jordan can just smell the anticipatory intent wafting off the men in the room in spades. 

Those desperate greedy fucks always want to get their hands on the next new shiny thing. 

And it’s fucking nauseating.

But what Jordan didn’t know then, was that they shouldn’t have been worrying about the rest of them. 

They weren’t the real threats in the end. 

Ultimately, Cate really should’ve been addressing that warning towards them. 

…

Jordan doesn’t realize this fact until they’re more in the swing of things. 

Up until this point, Jordan’s been cold to her: hasn’t given her so much as a grunt of acknowledgement, meanwhile every other member of the Seven (besides Sam who was still grieving) had flocked to her like moths to an annoyingly naive flame.

Despite virtually ignoring her existence on the outside, something about her makes Jordan keep an extra keen watch on her. Because they’ve seen it up close now. She has a sort of magnetism to her, and it tugs, pulling the rest of the members closer no matter how far Jordan wants to be. 

Marie seemed to latch onto Cate quite quickly, which was smart of her to do. It let her neatly and sweetly reject the advances of the other members in The Seven with the reassurance that Cate would probably breach her contract if it meant she could haunt their nightmares for not backing off of poor fresh-meat Marie. 

It doesn’t mean the others stop trying to get at her. Jordan thinks Steve is the first to give up, though. Maverick and Rufus of course keep up with the annoying comments, but they seem virtually harmless. Andre stares at her longing and wide eyed when he thinks she’s not looking. But the lamb is smarter than she looks, and has definitely also noticed Andre’s crush but simply won’t do anything about it. 

Cate practically treats Marie like her fucking child for that first week, and even though Vought as an institution was ruthless, the amount of coddling she’s receiving is overkill, in Jordan’s opinion. 

And the flare of annoyance that flickered in Jordan’s stomach at seeing both Cate and Andre dote on poor helpless Marie’s every move– literally helping her move her things into her apartment in the Vought Tower, as if she couldn’t lift her bags herself–was persistent. 

It does become noticeable though, that she was clearly helpless in other areas. 

She may have been brought onto the team to fix bloody messes, but Jordan soon learns that she can’t fight for shit, and it’s immediately apparent during team sparring sessions. 

They’d never really interacted before then. 

But Vought CEOs ensured that all of the members who had physical powers needed to be as well-versed in hand-to-hand combat as possible. They also had an egregiously large gym in the tower, it would be a shame not to use it as often as possible, even if that use was mandated.  

Steve had immediately dragged Sam over to the side of the mat to start sparring–Steve’s latest obsession now was trying to withstand Sam’s ‘Homelander-level’ superstrength. Andre and Maverick had already been going at it in the gym early, Andre trying in vain to detect levels of metal in Maverick’s blood in order to spot him. Andre’s new goal in developing his power was to be able to bend fine levels of metal. But from the way he was still whipping around on the mat in frantic search of Maverick, it didn’t seem like he was having too much luck.

Jordan was in the middle of lacing up their boxing shoes when she finally decides to show up. 

And Jordan almost wants to snort when they see her walk through the double doors. 

She’s wearing a ratty old oversized t-shirt and basketball shorts, with her hair piled high in a bun. 

She looks vividly uncomfortable, like this is the first time she’s ever had to wear either article of clothing. Jordan wonders idly why Vought hadn’t given her anything worth training in. But as Marie gets closer to the mat in the center of the room, Jordan’s slight amusement wanes as it dawns on Jordan that they are going to have to be the one to babysit her this time. 

Jordan stands upwards, their gray crop top stretches, allowing the wide expanse of their toned stomach muscles meet Vought AC air. Their jaw is clenched and their face is suddenly stony again as they make their way towards Marie. Because of course Jordan gets stuck with The Seven’s resident freshman. Jordan stops at the center of the mat, right in front of her. 

“Hi-hi. Jordan, right?” She says nervously, tucking a loc behind her ear, as if she hadn’t had well over a week to learn everyone’s names, as if Jordan wasn’t extremely fucking famous, and as if Marie wasn’t literally wearing a ratty Big Seven t-shirt with Jordan’s fucking face on it. 

Yeah, Jordan wasn’t even going to dignify her with a response to that. 

Jordan’s eyes narrow as they look up at Marie who’s decidedly not making eye contact with them anymore. 

They start training with no-preamble, after bluntly stating that Marie clearly doesn’t know how to fight and that they’re going to change that. They don’t give her a chance to verbally rebut that statement before they’re already barking orders at her. 

They decide to go easy on her to start. Let her get the hang of throwing punches. They let Marie try to come at them a few times, Jordan easily dodges and evades each attack like it’s nothing. They can tell Marie’s getting frustrated, she’s biting her tongue to keep from complaining, but the fact that Jordan can tell that Marie’s getting annoyed from the furrow in her brow is almost satisfactory enough. 

“Ok!” Marie finally snaps. “I’m tired of throwing punches. I want to learn defense too.” 

And normally, Jordan would’ve told her that she was idiotic for wanting to do that so soon when she couldn’t even get the basics down, but something in them holds back. Seeing her fail in the defensive would be just as amusing. 

So Jordan shrugs, tells her to widen her stance, and without warning jabs her in the stomach. 

Marie lets out a sort of muffled shriek in surprise, the quickness in which Jordan had attacked her had been unexpected, but she quickly returns to her stance. And then Jordan’s throwing punches again, almost pleasantly surprised to see Marie actually begin to dodge a few, though Jordan can admit they’re not going their hardest.

As if able to sense that, Marie’s calling them out for it. 

“You can go harder, I’m a big girl.”

Jordan’s eyebrow quirks. Because no, Marie really didn’t want to see them at their worst. But at the same time, they kind of wanted this sparring session to be over with so they could get to fighting somebody who actually knew what they were doing. 

In this way, they start to miss Luke even more than before. 

And that feeling is what drives Jordan to absolutely obliterate Marie for the next hour and a half. 

Superhero endurance was really wild sometimes.

They know they’re going too hard, even when Marie’s lip splits open from being punched in the face, and a trail of blood drips down the column of her neck and onto the mat, even when Jordan knocks the wind out of Marie during one particularly hard punch and can hear the wheezing breath she inhales as her lungs struggle to suck in air. 

Jordan knows they’re taking it too far, but part of them thinks they’re doing this for a reason, almost their way of avenging Luke, or teaching her a lesson. A lesson for what, they don’t know yet. 

They try to justify it in their head, they’re not really going too hard, they’ve stayed in their female form the whole time, after all. If they really had wanted to cause her some damage, they would’ve switched to their male form. 

Except they do end up doing so. Accidentally. 

They’re both exhausted at this point, they’re covered in sheens of sweat (Marie also in a light sheen of blood, cuts, and bruises), Jordan’s getting sort of sloppy with their dodges and side steps. But they’re vain and they still refuse to let Marie make offensive contact with them. Jordan is determined to leave this place totally unscathed. 

So there’s one point, where a new sprouting burst of frustration causes Marie to lunge at them faster than usual, and Jordan knows instantly that they won’t be able to move in time. 

They switch forms, and Marie’s fist makes contact with the hard planes of Jordan’s very male face. It does nothing to Jordan, but they can instantly hear the bones in Marie’s knuckles crack. And then she’s dropping to the floor with a cry of pain, clutching her broken fingers. 

Oddly enough, Jordan doesn’t feel bad as they look down at her. At all. 

Instead, when Marie’s eyes lock with theirs, they feel something worse. 

Something sick and perverted twists in Jordan’s stomach. 

Because there’s something about it. About all of it. 

The way they can see how her cheeks are flushed in a light dusting of ruby red against mocha skin, how her chest heaves, how those deep brown doe-eyes filled with delicate unshed tears are also alight with the blazing heat of outrage. 

How even though Jordan’s so thoroughly defeated her, they can tell she still has so much fight left inside of her. 

Jordan knows instantly that Marie’s staring up at them because she’s expecting them to apologize, but Jordan doesn't do such a thing.

Instead, they feel their cock twitch in their gym shorts. 

Their knuckles clench tight, and their hearing is almost drowned out completely by the roar of something white-hot that thumps through them like a second heartbeat. This dark, violent, and salacious thing inside them finds that they quite like the angle they’re looking down at her from. 

In fact, they think they may like it a little bit too much. 

They’re only grounded again when they hear Andre call out to them. 

“Hey! Don’t be such an asshole, dude.”

And then the feeling is gone, just as soon as it had hit them. 

But it almost leaves Jordan even angrier than before their match had started. 

But the moment passes. 

And by then, Marie’s hand had already healed itself. 

…

That sparring session was the first time Jordan had ever thought of Marie like that, and it’s unfortunately not the last time. Even still, Jordan finds it odd. 

It doesn't feel the same as a regular crush, or the type of lust that floods them before bedding their conquest of the week. With Marie, it happens in weird bouts, at extremely rare occurrences, because usually the rest of their thoughts pertaining to her consist of a spiraling anger and a petulant annoyance. But they will admit that she takes up space in their thoughts constantly regardless. 

The sheer potency of the feeling they get is what’s still sort of shocking each time it happens. But every time, after the moment passes, and that feral feeling ebbs and their heart rate slows, and they can think clearly again, they start to realize that it’s not really about her. It’s the power over her that they really want. At least that’s what they tell themselves when they make a slickened mess in their underwear at night thinking about Marie looking up at them, innocent doe-eyes bare and painfully pathetic. 

When you’ve lived a life like Jordan's, having power over your threats is essential. 

And Marie was a threat if they’d ever seen one. 

It’s why they take so much satisfaction in beating her during sparring. It was the one thing Vought had realized she wasn’t perfect at. The only issue was that her fighting abilities were under wraps for the time being until she became adequate enough to be released on a mission. For now, Vought had no issue parading her around like a show-pony as if she were the new black Starlight. 

It’s what drives their relationship to go from pettiness to nastiness real fast. 

Ever since discovering that Marie wasn’t quite the wilting flower they’d thought she was before sparring with her, Jordan had changed their approach to her quite a bit. 

Jordan hates to admit it, but they keep up with Marie’s appearances almost religiously, only to gain more ammo to insult her over being Vought’s bitch the moment she steps back into Vought Tower. Jordan’s new favorite pastime happens to be ridiculing and nitpicking her public appearances because they know it makes her that much more self-conscious. They also know it also immediately kills her high when she’d come back from a particularly successful interview clearly feeling on cloud nine. 

Jordan had started out as cold to the newbie at first, not so much as acknowledging her existence, but soon decided that acknowledging it was much more fun. 

…

“Did you see Marie’s interview?” 

Jordan whips around to find Andre sitting in the hall on one of those plushy chairs. 

Jordan’s brows furrow because what the fuck kind of question was that? Of course they had. 

Probably everyone on earth had at that point. 

It was her first full-length interview since joining the team. On Fallon. Where he’d asked her super surface level questions about joining The Seven, her Vought apartment, what it was like going to God U, played some stupid supe game with random hollywood celebrity number 37. The Fallon team had been instructed not to ask her about Luke, but that would be the clickbait title anyways. And it worked. The video had already wracked up millions of views on Youtube. 

“You mean the Vought suck-fest?” 

Andre chuckles and shakes his head. 

“You should really lighten up on her, Jordan.” 

“Did she say something to you or something?” 

Andre stills, but shakes his head again. And Jordan immediately knows what this is; the rest of them have probably noticed by now how Jordan treats Marie. And Andre clearly thinks he needs to play her white knight. But Jordan doesn’t have the time or patience to deal with whatever Andre thought he was doing. 

“Alright…” Jordan turns around to walk the other way, suddenly deciding they don’t really feel like talking to Andre for longer than needed.

They hear the muffled voices before seeing who they belong to just as they turn the corner.  

“Ok so Marie, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rank our powers?”

Jordan’s eyebrow raises at the scene before them; Maverick and Steve hovering over Marie outside of the Vought meeting room. 

“Why do you insist on asking questions you know no one ever gives a shit about answering?” 

Jordan inserts themselves meanly, staring straight at Marie even though Steve had been the one talking. Marie’s polite smile tightens upon spotting Jordan. 

“ Actually, I was going to answer. Thanks, Jordan.”

Steve rolls his eyes and gestures for Maverick to follow him, already escaping the premises before Jordan has a chance to respond. They all know already what that fake sickly sweet smile on both Marie and Jordan’s faces mean; and they do not want to be caught in the crossfire.

And they know they shouldn’t but they practically itch to say something to her. There’s just something about watching the annoyingly dazzling light slightly dim in her eye.  

“Aren’t you tired of answering questions at this point? Seems like all you’ve been doing lately,” Jordan snorts, “You know, it’s kind of funny how you just talk and talk about how excited you are to be a hero, but tell me, how’s that first mission going for you?” 

Marie goes to open her mouth, but Jordan’s already cutting her off. Jordan knew already that if Marie's not being used for Vought's PR tactics, she'll be used to clean up Vought messes on missions either way. 

“I can’t remember whether you’ve done anything useful yet, I’ve been too busy actually helping people. You know, like an actual hero, not a Vought mouthpiece.”

And Jordan may be sort of kind of lying about how many missions they've been on as of late, but Marie didn't need to know that.

Especially not when they can see her take a deep calming breath, almost like she’s holding herself back from screeching. 

Jordan’s mouth quirks upwards at the thought. 

“You know I would, I just haven’t been cleared for street combat yet. I’ve obviously been training, but it’s hard to make real progress with such a horrible teacher.” 

And something about the amount of vitriol, looking at the frustrated and embarrassed flush of her cheeks gets Jordan’s blood to pulse hot and heavy. 

The kind of pulse they can feel deep in their veins. 

“Ouch, Moreau. Did you practice that one in the mirror?” 

“Fuck you, Jordan.”

…

Jordan knows this may be a form of bullying. 

Must be some form of psychological torture, but they don’t care. Seeing Little Miss Perfect fall slightly off their pedestal was probably the best feeling in the world. It was almost better than sex. 

Especially because Marie wasn’t able to hold up the innocent saintly act around Jordan.

She snapped back at them with just as much bite as she could give, and Jordan was almost impressed by it. But it also brought Marie back to their level. She was no better than Jordan for always giving into their antagonizing. 

She dropped the facade around them. 

So yeah, maybe the back and forth of it all seems childish, but they can’t help it. 

They can’t stop themselves from shoulder checking Marie; on the way to the shared bathrooms, out of the gym, when Cate’s not looking, and they do it because they know that even though the others have started to get wary of their behavior around them, Marie refuses to give Jordan the satisfaction of running to the others to actually complain about it. 

About any of it. 

…

It’s late when Marie comes back from her interview with Page Six. 

It’s been a while, but Jordan’s been rejected from appearing in an interview with Forbes to market their new “ground-breaking” gender-neutral fragrance. 

This shit hasn’t happened to them in years. Not since the beginning of their career. 

And they cannot for the life of them figure out what the reasoning had been, no matter how many times they had pestered Ashely and Vought execs about it. They’d been so good for so long, had brought their socials up, they were at their freaking peak and yet…here they were on a Friday night waiting for Ashely to finish her phone call with the CEO of Forbes so she could tell them the final verdict. 

But then Marie walks into The Seven meeting room, and from the expectant yet slightly stressed and exhausted look on her face, Jordan can tell Marie had also been looking for Ashley to debrief. 

Jordan feels almost giddy when they can see out of the corner of their eye, Marie’s own eyes narrow to slits like clockwork upon seeing the supe sitting casually on one of the pristine white cushioned-chairs. 

“Back already?” 

Jordan flips casually through the perfume magazine they had been reading for product inspo, and makes sure not to look up at Marie who’s already fisting and unfisting her fists at her sides. 

“Did Page Six finally decide everyone was tired of hearing about the poor little orphan girl’s sob story ?” 

Marie’s face twists. 

Jordan’s not above going for below the belt insults, but they usually ease more into that. They suppose they’ve been feeling a bit more volatile lately, they’d had a bad taste in their mouth from the minute the Forbes rejection had come to them, and they needed someone to take it out on. Either way, they revel in the way it’s so easy to see from her expression what she’s feeling, and can so easily recognize the fighting spark that’s already begun to flicker in her eyes. 

She’s just so damn easy to rile up, and Jordan finds something strangely lovely about that fact.

“I see you’re still at the tower for the 4th night in a row, doing nothing as usual. Not surprised no one wanted to interview ‘The Seven’s Resident Asshole’.” 

Jordan will begrudgingly give Marie one point for perceptiveness, although she obviously doesn’t know about Jordan’s past or current situation (no one in The Seven does besides Jordan). 

However, it’s still unnerving to them how Marie is able to spot Jordan’s insecurity almost immediately, so they decide to push the focus back onto her. Back onto the fact that Marie had made the grave mistake of wearing a Big Seven T-shirt with Jordan’s face on it in a sparring room all those weeks ago.

“I’ve actually been prepping for a perfume shoot. Marketing for a gender-neutral scent. But glad to know you’ve been keeping tabs on me. Which means, I guess it’s true, actually? Once a desperate fangirl, always a–”

“--Fuck you, Jordan,” Jordan’s idly suprised again, because usually it takes a bit more prodding to get Marie to snap back at them like this to say her seemingly favorite sentence to them. But here she seems especially exhausted, like the beginning of a headache is forming. 

“I don’t have time for this right now just…shut up,” Marie massages her temples before spinning on her heels and out of the room. And just like that their little spat of the day is finished. 

And Jordan almost wants to laugh at how easy it was to claim victory. 

…

Except there’s no victory here. 

Because essentially, Marie was right. She would always have what Jordan strived for above all else; and that was public approval. Jordan got the horny freaks to boost their socials, but that wasn’t enough for them, or clearly not enough for Forbes . Meanwhile, Marie was absolutely cruising in the public eye. 

Interviewers still practically sucked her dick on camera. 

All this despite the fact that her recently revealed superhero get up was absolutely fucking ridiculous to look at. 

Jordan had gotten lucky in that department. Their suit was simple, sleek and black. There wasn’t too much going on, and it was able to shrink and mold to their body whichever form they were in. 

Marie’s superhero suit clearly didn’t fit her in any sense. 

In fact, seeing her in costume for an interview appearance was the first time Jordan really noticed her body. And they were practically forced to. 

Her suit consisted of a maroon and burgundy leather leotard that barely covered the large mounds of her ass cheeks, and the sorry excuse of the Queen Meave skirt rip-off didn’t help much either. It was a miracle she was even allowed on air in that get up, more like it was a miracle she didn’t have Christians from Iowa trying to get her head on a stick for it. 

Jordan supposes Vought accounted for that too; most of her body shots were from the front, and interviews were done seated with camera angles from the waist up. Plus she had that whole juxtaposing mother-teresa shtick coupled with dainty and girly makeup that helped distract from the outfit during interviews. 

This upcoming interview in particular was important. This interview, done by Oprah of all people, would feature all of the Big Seven. This was The Seven’s first collective public interview appearance since Luke’s death and Marie’s initiation. There was PR surrounding the whole thing up to Jordan’s ears; more written interviews with Vogue, The Hollywood Reporter, The New York Times, photoshoots, tangential product collaborations and social media Tik Tok advertising. This Oprah interview was about to be a cultural phenomenon for many reasons. 

Which is why they’re all prepped, scripted, and micromanaged to hell before sitting on Oprah’s outdoor patio couch. 

Jordan’s kind of squished in between Marie and Sam, while Cate sits on Marie’s other side. The fact that Jordan doesn’t have very much room pisses them off and they make a deliberate decision to shift into male form for the interview. Their knees automatically spread apart to man-spread and take up even more space. Jordan can see Marie grimace out of the corner of her eye. They can immediately tell Marie wants to snark at them for the behavior, but she can’t, not when they’re about to put their PR faces on. 

Jordan barely notices when the interview starts. They’re counting down the seconds in their head, fiddling with their pearl/chain necklace, only waiting until they get to their part to say more Vought-sprouted bullshit about Luke’s death (and to make a concerted effort to not bring up their former CFO Brink). 

Jordan zones back in coincidentally just as the topic of conversation moves on from Luke and onto Marie. Marie starts her spiel, about how thankful she is to be a part of The Seven, about how lucky she is to be able to save people, about how her dreams from being a student at God U were coming true, how she wanted to make her deceased parents proud. 

Jordan stares straight at her through it all. They’re focused on just her. For one reason only. Because they’re waiting for her to slip up. 

Because she’s almost too good. 

What’s worse is her words sound intrinsically genuine even though she’s memorized a script just like the rest of them. And Jordan knows immediately through watching her that they could never be that convincing. Jordan’s jaw clenches in anger at their own unbidden comparison to her. 

And at how good of a fucking liar she is. 

Seeing the way she worked the camera from afar was one thing, but seeing her up close like this was almost 10 times worse. And Jordan couldn’t fucking look away. 

And then Oprah’s asking her about whether or not she’s felt welcomed by the rest of The Seven. Her face brightens, and so does Cate’s when her eyes flick to hers. 

But then she makes the mistake of looking at Jordan. 

When her eyes drift to theirs, she falters, and blinks a bit, clearly surprised at the intensity in which Jordan is burning their sheer amount of hatred and judgment through to her. 

That familiar sick race of pleasure runs up their spine at seeing Marie’s face go slightly slack and for her voice to trail off. 

Because fuck her. 

After what seems like an eternity, Marie tears her eyes away from Jordan, and then she’s looking basically anywhere else, at anyone else trying to regain her footing with her answer. 

It’s a minor blip, but it brings Jordan satisfaction regardless to see her trip up for once. 

They don’t take their eyes off her for the rest of the interview, while Marie refuses to look at Jordan even after the interview is long finished. 

…

They don’t talk much in the following weeks. 

Marie’s been avoiding Jordan, or maybe she’s just more busy, or maybe they both are with the amount of appearances and missions they are being continuously booked for. 

But of course Jordan’s still been paying attention to her. Like always. Marie’s not something they can just stop thinking about. Her presence in their brain is equal parts persistent and provoking. 

Especially now. 

There’s shit coming out about Marie’s powers that even Jordan didn’t know about despite reading her Vought file. And it’s being sensationalized of course. Because now her powers didn’t extend just to healing or blood lassos. She can sense things in blood, sense who’s blood is who’s. And much to Andre and Maverick’s chagrin (for different reasons), even sense Maverick himself. 

And Jordan starts to see her differently for it. Begins to wonder just how much she’d been hiding under that fake nice-girl act. Coming to Vought on the assumption that she was a healer when in fact she was a lot more, but then doing nothing to stop the media rollout on this supposedly hidden discovery? 

It was fucking suspicious. 

Especially when Marie’s 21st birthday finally rolls around, and it’s a Vought sanctioned PR party at Vought Tower. It’s also another push on Marie, because now her powers are even better, and Vought is going to use and celebrate and market that. 

There’s hundreds of people invited from all corners of young Hollywood, all of whom Jordan knows for a fact Marie has never met in her entire life. Everyone except for a college friend of Marie’s named Emma who trails after Marie and Cate, while Sam consequently trails after her. 

Jordan focuses on demanding that the bartender makes them the most expensive drink they know how to make. As they sit at the bar, they almost create a bit of a game in rejecting the various female supermodels who come up to them asking to go back to their apartment, shifting back and forth into female form just to wave off unwanted male suitors asking the same. 

They’re not even aware of how long they’ve lingered at the party until the venue is almost completely cleared out. All that’s left are the rest of The Seven littered sporadically and Marie’s friend Emma who continues to linger around Sam.

Jordan wants to say that they almost don’t notice Marie sidle up next to them at one of the round tables. 

But that would be a lie. Because they always notice her. They notice everything about her. 

Like a fucking curse. 

“I’d never even had alcohol before today.” 

Jordan spins around in their seat to assess Marie with a quirked brow. Her ruby lipgloss is slightly smudged, and she seems to be trying to claw at the tight black minidress Vought had put her in, to cover up more of her legs. 

She hiccups. Jordan’s brow raises even further. 

For once, they can’t quite read the expression on her face. It looks equally as troubled as it does content, and the combination is confusing. 

“You should pace yourself, freshman,” Jordan says matter of factly, then turns to down the rest of their glass in one gulp. Jordan can feel Marie’s eyes trailing the way Jordan’s throat swallows around the liquid and wants to stiffen at the sudden scrutiny. 

Instead, Jordan finds themselves wanting to fill the silence.

“I’m surprised you even bothered to grace me with your presence. You’ve been pretty MIA lately, especially in light of the recent…power discoveries…” they only bring it up not because they care, they tell themselves. They’re merely curious about the sheer lack of contentious interactions as of late. And about her hidden power shit. 

She doesn’t answer them either way. Instead, her glossy eyes sort of go unfocused. 

“You know, when I first met… everyone in The Seven, I was so excited,” hiccup, “I mean, I’d be working alongside the Jordan Li…you were someone I looked up to. But I didn’t know how wrong I could be, about a person.” 

Her eyes flit back to theirs then, and they’re clearer than they’d ever been, like Marie is now trying to read Jordan’s expression. 

Jordan’s about to open their mouth reflexively, to tell her that this is the real world, and that they’re sorry her whole life can’t be sunshine and daisies all of the time. Even though they both knew she doesn’t truly think that. Not with her upbringing. 

Even still, she beats them to it. 

“I’ve had bullies before, Jordan. I lived at a shelter for most of my life…I’ve got tough skin,” 

Jordan snorts. 

Because she may have been good at hiding it, but at the end of the day, she was too easily excitable. It was those big brown doe eyes that gave her away. They were always too expressive, and they made her look like a fragile baby lamb who was perpetually one second away from crying or squealing. 

Even when her eyebrows scrunch at them now, she looks almost like a petulant child. One that’s easy to dismiss. 

Except, what she says next stops them from doing so. 

“But…you’re not like the other kids at the shelter, Jordan. And I’ve come to realize this lately,” she swallows, suddenly not seeming as drunk as before. 

“You’re worse . Because you don’t just like seeing me hurt. You enjoy it.” 

And this is the second time Marie had seen right through them. Right through to that ugly horrid beast inside of them that they’d been hoping she’d never notice. That no one else in their life ever had. 

Jordan doesn’t even know what to say to that. Because she’s fucking right. And the implications of that makes them start to feel fucking clammy and nauseous. 

But what she starts to say next actually causes their blood to run cold. 

“I can sense your heartbeat, you know. And the movement of your blood. When we fight, and I get near, I can—“ 

Jordan scrapes their chair back abruptly and then they’re standing, and Marie is too, right behind them. Following them, always following like a sticky fucking film against their skin that they can’t shake. Her gaze is fiery and determined, rooting them to the spot, to not let them run away from this. Whatever the fuck this is. 

But she stands up maybe a bit too quickly, because she’s suddenly stumbling in her heels, and Cate is immediately by her side. 

“Ok, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Let’s get you to bed, sweetie.” 

And then Cate is gently pulling Marie by the elbow and to her apartment in Vought Tower. 

And Jordan still feels fucking sick over the fact that it’s her of all people to discover Jordan’s secret.

It’s hard to be a superhero, to want to help people in this Vought-ridden, fake environment.

It’s also hard to be a sadist at the same time. 

…

Chapter Text

The video with Oprah finally drops, and Jordan’s right. 

It was a fucking cultural phenomenon. Memes are dropping left and right, every last sentence in the interview is dissected and resold and reformulated into headlines. It’s all anyone can talk about. 

And then when people on Tik Tok and Twitter and Reddit and every other platform are sick of dissecting every last inch of the scripted bullshit that’s fallen out of their mouths during the interviews, they start dissecting other things. Reading between the lines. Body-language experts are suddenly on top of the interview like crazy. 

And Jordan finds the publicity all good and well until it stops being that. 

Because then a certain video starts to go viral from that interview.

It’s a small clip. 

It couldn’t have been more than five seconds long. 

But it was the blip.

The moment when Marie had been answering a question about being welcomed onto the team, and had made eye contact with Jordan, how she’d faltered. How Jordan had stared with a slight quirk to their mouth afterwards. 

It was absolute fodder for online shippers. 

And it completely spiraled way out of hand. 

Suddenly, articles, and posts were coming out about them, about Jordan and Marie’s secret romance. Comments fucking everywhere about ‘the way Jordan was looking at her’ with those stupid fucking heart eye emojis. About how they ‘wanted each other so bad’. How long Jordan had stared at her afterwards. How Marie had tripped up and stuttered after noticing Jordan. Clips slowing down and zooming in on the way Jordan’s lip had slightly quirked upwards at Marie’s pause. How they were sure Jordan ‘welcomed her’ onto the team just fine.  

Comments on every last single fucking pixeled frame of that moment was everywhere. 

The worst part about it was that it couldn’t have been further from the fucking truth. 

Jordan had been staring at Marie with nothing more than judgment and hatred alight in their veins on that day. Gaining sick pleasure in seeing her fuck up had nothing to do with their want of actually fucking her. And they couldn’t even defend themselves because they’d been ordered by Vought not to make any statements over it. 

The only thing that had caused Jordan to falter slightly was that now that they had the full video, they could indeed see everything on Marie’s face. The panic in her eyes the moment they had met Jordan’s unexpectedly intense stare, they hadn’t noticed this before, but how her cheeks had flushed slightly as her eyes darted away. 

But Jordan had originally chalked up her behavior as embarrassment towards fucking up her answer, not anything else. 

But none of that mattered anyway, none of what they’d truly thought mattered because the public had gotten to them. 

And Jordan knew the phone call was coming in a matter of time. 

All it takes is for Rufus to fuck up by being pictured in 4-chan chat rooms conversing about extreme red-wing conspiracies that he ‘whole-heartedly agrees with’, for Vought to decide they need another PR distraction. 

Jordan isn’t surprised whatsoever when the execs sit them down and tell them that Jordan and Marie need to “date” for an indefinite amount of time to counteract Rufus’ dumb behavior. Thanks to Rufus (and Oprah, they guess), they were going to be Vought’s new “it” couple. And even better, they’d get blue states back over to their side solely because of the diversity optics. 

They’re told all of this, they know their public interactions from then on will be fake and manufactured to hell and still– something in their heart sinks. 

But they don’t look at her across the Vought meeting table. 

They don’t bother to, they’ll have plenty of interviews to do that in the future. 

…

They don’t know why they did it. 

They think something in their head is telling them that they’re losing their sex-appeal. 

Even though they haven’t seen any concerning stats from Ashely to throw in their face like she usually does to get them in line to stop fucking around and to start churning out work. 

But they can just feel it. Like before, when their brand was actually nearly crumbling. 

Even standing next to Marie in her slutty superhero outfit, they feel like they’re representing the fucking church as they hold her hand in front of the crowd. 

All of their appearances so far have been super surface level, chaste, cookie-cutter, cute, and innocent. 

The most Jordan has done is hold her hand once on stage, and smile at each other like newborn puppies. 

But the cute look wasn’t Jordan. That was Marie. And it made them fucking want to claw their eyes out. 

Jordan was the one who made rabid fangirls go crazy with their cool, aloof sex-appeal, it wouldn’t work for their socials if they suddenly rebranded to a hapless doorknob and get overshadowed by new girl Marie. They would lose fans fast, and they couldn’t afford that, not when their fragrance was coming out, and Forbes finally changed their mind and decided to do an interview with them. 

So they go for it.  

During an interview with Kourtney Fourtney of all people. 

Jordan doesn’t even think when they grip onto Marie’s jaw and go tongue first into a kiss. It’s an extremely short kiss, after all, Jordan makes sure not to linger any more than they need to. The point of it was to show a clear intent behind it, behind the hard grip of Jordan’s ringed fingers against her delicate jaw, of the swipe of their hot tongue against the seam of her ruby-red lips. 

Jordan can hear Kourtney laugh partly in glee and in surprise at the sudden display, especially when Jordan swipes their thumb along the smudged red of her lipstick and consequently licks the appendage without breaking Marie’s eye-contact. It’s the cherry on top of the fake-relationship cake. Even Kourtney knows it was a good move on Jordan’s part. 

And then when they think they’ve done their part, they’re leaning back in their seat again, lazily finishing up the interview for Marie who’s gone virtually mute. 

They don’t notice the way the fake smile plastered onto her face steadily crumbles the longer the interview continues. 

…

It’s funny, for how perceptive Jordan usually is, that they hadn’t expected her to be so livid. 

She’d sat back during the remaining minutes of the interview seemingly contentedly, after all. 

Jordan figured Marie knew Vought by now, she knew the drill. Nothing was personal. Jordan would’ve gladly pushed Marie in front of a moving car if it meant they’d look good, and Jordan would’ve expected the same from her. This was no different. Show business was show business. 

But as Jordan had just begun to swing their dressing room door closed, they’re suddenly being assaulted by the color red and then consequently feeling a very hard slap in the fucking face.

In their female form, they stumble backwards a bit just as the door slams closed. Jordan idly thinks that’s a good thing, there won’t be any witnesses when Jordan rips the bitch to shreds for daring to touch them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jordan yells just in time to see Marie stomping over to them, eyes blazing. 

All it takes is for Jordan’s eyes to unremittingly stare at the still slightly smudged lip gloss on Marie’s lips to finally understand why she’s mad. 

And Jordan wants to fucking laugh. They drop their hand from clutching their face, though their cheek still slightly stings. The fight slowly begins to drain out of them. 

“Oh, get over it, Moreau. It was for the camera,” they begin to shrug their suit jacket off, grabbing a bottle of water from the desk as Marie’s eyes follow their every move like a hawk. 

“You didn’t ask me or even Vought if I was okay with doing that first!” 

“Would you have said yes?”

Marie doesn’t answer. But they both know her stubbornness wouldn’t have allowed her to agree. 

“Exactly.” 

They would’ve kindly shown her the door then, they actually really don’t enjoy being in her presence without a script ever since she’d exposed them at her birthday party (not that she likely remembers, but Jordan can’t know for sure). But then Marie’s speaking again.

“You’re such a piece of shit, Jordan.” 

Marie shakes her head, her voice curling ruefully and meanly, and something about the tone pisses Jordan off. Like maybe after everything, she had remembered. 

Jordan needed to come up with something, that snake-like trait of theirs quickly unfurls itself into something vicious and unstable.

“We all saw the video, Marie. Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

They both know they’re talking about the Oprah interview that was widely misconstrued, though they’d never sat down or even had a conversation about it, never even defended themselves to the other. But Jordan doesn’t really give a fuck just how construed it was at the moment. They really only mentioned it to get under her skin, and to somehow justify their own actions. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Marie practically shrieks, but this time, the hysteria lacing her voice lilts it a little bit too much, and suddenly Jordan’s looking at her a bit differently. 

Normally they’d just attack her right back and not stop until something gives, but this time, they pause. 

Their eyes narrow immediately as they assess her. Critically.

Because there are some things about her. About them, that suddenly makes sense. 

And Jordan knows immediately what it is. After all of this time. The snide remarks, the way Jordan was so easily able to get under her skin. How she never even so much as scoffed at the rest of the (verifiably worse) members of The Seven, yet Jordan was able to anger her even more than Rufus or Maverick combined. It was simple, really.

Marie had a crush on them. 

Not now, but its remnants of it were there. 

They can see it now; it was definitely a crush from before, from before Marie had ever even met Jordan in person, when she was just a fangirl wanting to be in the Seven while literally in her Big Seven T-shirt. 

It explains the nervousness, the big self-pitying speech she’d given Jordan about being so excited to meet them, the way her voice had faltered and stuttered at their stare during Oprah’s interview because in that moment she’d forgotten herself. Forgotten what Jordan was really like and gotten lost instead. On camera, for everyone to see. 

She’d probably had a poster of them on her wall and everything. 

Probably fucking touched herself in that shelter thinking about ‘Jordan the hero’ coming to save her. 

And that last thought is what digs itself deep into their head and doesn’t leave. 

Something about it makes that ugly thing inside of them pulse, and suddenly Jordan doesn’t even care about what they had been arguing about anymore. 

Jordan moves swiftly into Marie’s eye-line, shifting to male form while they move. They get close, because they want to be able to smell it on her. They’ve already decided, in the split second it took for her to give herself away, that they didn’t care anymore. About anything. 

“You’re playing dumb,” Jordan peers deeply into her eyes, searching, their mouth dipped downwards into a disappointed frown. They’re not even sure why they’ve said anything, because their mind has been made up. They don’t care what she possibly has to say after this. They don’t even have the patience to fully wait for her response. Because they know her by now. All she would do is deny, deny, deny until there's nothing left. 

“I’m not lying to you–” So Jordan doesn’t wait. Jordan surges forwards and presses their entire front against Marie, until she’s crushed into the back wall. 

They ignore her yelp of pain, when their hand comes right back up to roughly grip against her jaw. Her eyes squeeze shut and her head turns away when Jordan looks at her with blazing irises. Jordan can feel her body begin to move, to struggle against them, but then freeze right away. 

Because they both know she can feel it. 

They’re hard. They press it hot and needy against her, almost burning a hole through the skin of her sternum. The heat that accompanies the sensation feels dangerous, like they both know immediately that she was never ever meant to know what this feels like.

“You shouldn’t have come in here,” Jordan chokes out, and swallows hard. Their voice is conflicted, because part of them wants desperately for her to leave, but the other part would never grant her the choice to. In reality, she wouldn’t be able to move out of their grip even if she tried.

So Jordan slides themself up against her stomach. Slowly. Carefully. So she can feel the outline of every ridge against the thin film of her shirt. 

Marie fucking whimpers, and Jordan has to stop the growl from bubbling up their throat. 

“Jordan…” Marie’s eyes open, and she’s looking at them, pleadingly. Those big brown eyes telling them that they need to stop before something breaks. But they’ve seen those pleading eyes in their dreams, and nightmares for months now. 

And they’ve decided that they want it to break. They want it to over and over and over again. 

Jordan doesn’t even notice they’ve been steadily humping their clothed cock against her like a fucking dog until she whimpers again. Jordan hopes she can feel how big and long they are this way. How much they’ll make it hurt when it’s finally inside. 

“Kiss me,” Jordan pants against her temple, their hips continue to thrust up and down just for a slight modicum of friction. She makes eye contact with them again, shy, like she’s fucking scared of meeting their gaze even though she’d just slapped them in the fucking face earlier. 

And Jordan’s done for. 

Jordan’s mouth slants over hers and their tongue is immediately lapping and swirling hot and heavy, deep into her mouth. They pry her jaw open with ringed fingers, hold it wide so they can assault her mouth with their tongue. They’re not letting up, and they know she’s struggling to keep up. From the way she gasps, the way her breath catches as her hands try desperately to claw and hold onto their broad shoulders. 

She makes such soft, pretty sounds, but the delicate nature of the whimpers that leave her throat almost makes them feel more violent. 

Their control is slipping, and it pushes their hands to grip and knead her ass through her stupid costume. 

They lift her up, just so they can slot their dick more comfortably against the juncture between her legs and decide immediately after making contact that they can’t wait anymore. She makes them feel so fucking out of it like this. Like a bloodthirsty and feral fucking beast who just wants to take.

“Take this off,” they bark at her. Meanly. 

But they don’t care about being nice. 

They drop Marie, her hands shake as they scramble to unzip her leotard, but Jordan gets impatient. They spin her around and unzip her before shoving the material off her completely, dragging her underwear bottoms with it. 

And they don’t wait. They can’t, not now because waiting even a second longer would’ve torn them apart. 

They hoist Marie up against their hips, arms curling under her thick thighs, knees pressing tight around his waist. 

They unzip their pants only enough to get their cock out, to grip against the throbbing skin at the base, and start to push the sensitive head into her tight, wet heat. 

They swear they almost black out completely. 

She’s so fucking tight. Her cunt’s squeezing the life out of their poor cock with just the sensitive, throbbing skin of the tip pushed past her lips. 

Jordan groans loudly, adjusts their grip on their member and tries to shove more of themselves inside. 

They feel so fucking greedy, they can only think about what it will feel like when they’ve burying themselves all the way to the hilt. 

Marie’s mewling and still making those pretty, soft whimpers as they take the time to stretch into her cunt. Jordan’s gotten about halfway in before she’s protesting and her body tenses. 

“Ah. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Jordan. I can’t,” Her body shifts upwards up the wall, like she’s trying to escape them. 

But no one gets to escape. Not now. Not when they’re this close to what they’ve desperately wanted from her for so long. 

Jordan’s hands latch on fast to her waist before she gets far. And then they’re forcing her further down, and they can feel every last ridge of skin on her velvet insides as they give one final push to the hilt. 

They bottom out inside of her completely, their pelvises plastered to each other, and the feeling is fucking sublime. Jordan's throat rumbles with another drawn-out moan. 

“Ow, Jordan.” Marie whimpers as she buries her face into Jordan’s neck, and they can immediately feel the tears pressing into their skin. 

And that sick trail of pleasure races up their spine again at hearing the smallness in her voice. Like she wants to stop but wouldn’t dare ask Jordan to. 

The thought of her submissiveness to them pushes a moan from Jordan’s throat and for their cock to throb hotly. 

As her tears continue to wet their shoulder, they start thinking that they suppose they could’ve been nicer about this. But they’d far surpassed niceness in their relationship, in any sense. And she knew who they were. This was never going to be nice. 

So Jordan gets two good handfuls onto the fat of her ass and then starts fucking barreling into her with no preamble. 

They don’t know for the life of them what’s possessed them to be this absolutely unhinged, but they know they wouldn’t be able to stop even if they tried. 

Because they’re not just fucking her hard. They’re being fucking cruel. They’re pummeling her insides with absolutely no breaks in between. With the hopes that she can feel every movement, every heavy slap of their balls against her labia as they fuck her into the wall. 

They’re quickly starting to realize that the aggression they’re exhibiting is just to vent their frustration, towards her, towards the situation Vought has forced them into, towards that suffocating feeling of having to pretend like Marie hasn’t been driving them obsessive and absolutely batshit crazy from the very start. Frustration at the thought that she’d hidden her reciprocal want for them for so long. As if she had the fucking right to. 

The intensity immediately has Marie shrieking and wailing with each thrust. Her knees flop around Jordan’s waist like a rag doll, and Jordan’s pretty sure she’s given up on trying to even grip onto them, the sheer momentum that Jordan uses to fuck into her keeps her upright and against the wall. 

Jordan can’t even fucking speak , they’re so focused on making their cock abuse her cervix as quickly and relentlessly as possible, that it causes their jaw to snap upwards. They grunt and moan against her neck like a man deprived of humanity, and it shows through the ferocious movement of their hips. She’s so fucking criminally wet that her juices start to fucking drip down the column of their cock and slide between their balls to drip onto the floor. 

And the worst part by far are disgusting fucking sounds they’re making. It’s absolutely filthy. 

She’s so tight that she continues to squelch loudly on their dick with each thrust, the slapping of their skin against hers is fucking obscene in how persisting and unremitting it is. 

And when she cums the first time, it’s even better. Her entire body freezes, and then starts shaking uncontrollably. Her hips twitch and convulse, and her insides squeeze them so tight that Jordan really has to force themself through to even bury himself down to the hilt again. 

But force they do.

They’re not even letting her come down from her high before they’re pistoning into her again, hard and violent, which Jordan is fast figuring out is clearly just the way they both like it. 

And when they cum in her the first time, Jordan thinks they’ve finally, finally seen heaven. 

…

This was wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this. 

Not with her. 

Not with the co-worker who’s still somewhat wet behind the ears and doesn’t know any better. 

Putting on a show was one thing, but what Jordan was doing to her now just wasn’t fair. 

In the weeks following, Jordan’s on her every chance they get. 

And they’re not going easy on her. 

This time around, Jordan has her with her knees bent and spread wide open as she sits on the edge of the bed. 

Jordan’s been going at it for hours now, fucking in and out of her puffy, swollen cunt, and watching the smooth length of their dick slip in and out. 

Slowly this time. So she can really feel the entirety of their cock each time they impale her with it. 

She’s overstimulated as fuck, they’ve been wringing orgasms out of her for hours (though Jordan did give her somewhat of a break to stick their tongue in her ass). 

But she’s been fucking sobbing at least for the past half hour, begging Jordan to slow down (even though in their opinion, they’ve been going at a snail’s pace) and have mercy on her, as if that would stop the vicious taunts leaving Jordan’s mouth. 

But they can’t help themselves. They both know Jordan likes seeing how pretty she is when she cries. And unluckily for her, she’s fucking gorgeous. 

And Jordan tells her this much. 

“Look at this pretty cunt. Still taking me so well after hours.” 

They take themselves out, to rub and tease the sensitive head along her slickened folds, just to grant her a second of reprieve. 

Marie shivers and moans brokenly. 

Jordan slaps at her face. 

“You’re a mess, Moreau. Get yourself together.” 

But they don’t give her a chance to before they’re slipping back inside of her. Where they fucking belong. 

Her cunt is a fucking sloppy, twitching mess at this point, its juices splurting periodically around their cock through with each involuntary clench of her insides. 

Jordan could do this forever. Watching Marie hiccup through tears, but always being there to brush at them gently with a steady thumb. 

Jordan’s expected her to stop crying by now, but the hot ribbons of tears keep flowing steadily, just as reliable and persistent as Jordan’s slow and devastating pace inside of her. 

Marie sucks in a particularly sharp breath, when Jordan switches up and snaps their hips a bit harder than usual, and another bout of tears leak from her eyes and pepper her long eyelashes.

“Aw now, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Jordan snaps their hips again, hard enough for their balls to slap against her skin, and it has her crying out. 

Jordan’s fringe flops over their forehead as they peer down at her, eyes burning meanly. “I thought you were a big girl? What happened to that? Huh? You can’t take this cock anymore, is that it?” 

Jordan slides their cock all the way out just to harshly impale themself all the way to bottom, until their hips are suctioned together completely. Marie’s hips lift off the bed, as if trying to escape the full sensation, but Jordan follows her, pressing themselves even further inside if possible. 

They revel in the way Marie shrieks at the abrupt intrusion, as if they haven’t been fucking for hours at this point. 

“I’m so s-sorry, please ,” Marie cries as her hips flop back down. She doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for, and Jordan doesn’t even know what they’re punishing her for. They resume their slow fucking pace regardless. 

She’s flushed all over, the ab muscles in her stomach twitch and flex. She looks so fucking wrecked and fucked out. And it does nothing but make Jordan want to fuck her more. Especially when Jordan can see clearly the bulge of flesh that appears under her navel with each slow thrust of his long appendage into her. 

“Be a good girl for me and take this fucking cock.”

Jordan knows that if Marie had really had enough, she would let them know. It was something Jordan had come to admire most about her, how she’d always had so much fight left in her despite clear defeat. Like now. Despite her body succumbing completely to Jordan, she refused to tap out. She refused to use their safe-word. Plus, if she wanted it to be over, she knew what to do to get them to cum by now. 

Jordan was easy like that.

All it takes is for Marie to grip onto the back of Jordan’s thighs, to beg for them to cum in her like her life depends on it, and they’re gone. 

It’s the final ‘please’ that exists her lips that has Jordan moaning and then pumping into her faster, their breath getting shallow and frantic, and then they feel their balls tighten, and their stomach erupts with fire. And suddenly they’re fucking her down to the hilt again, fast and angry, pinning her hips to the bed, pressing her deep into the mattress, as hot cum paints her insides in sporadic bursts. 

Jordan curses and yells at the fucking sky as its intensity rocks through them hard and torturous. And after all that, even in their haze they can feel Marie’s cunt clench and twitch itself into yet another orgasm. 

And Jordan thinks Marie may just be their soulmate. 

…

Jordan’s head is buried between her thighs now, lapping and licking at her cunt with a skilled tongue. 

Marie tugs against the long strands of hair on their head, shrieking when Jordan sucks extra hard on the clit. 

Jordan practically unhinges their fucking jaw to lap and slurp up the juices squirting out of Marie’s cunt when she comes the next time. 

They only lift their head up to suck in air in order to dive back in, but Marie’s tugging them upwards by their pearl/chain necklace to crush her lips against theirs. And then she’s spinning them around, straddling them briefly. She keeps eye contact with them as she trails soft kisses down their chest. She swirls one of Jordan’s nipples around her tongue, cupping their breast with her other hand, and it has Jordan arching their back with a gasp. 

Marie snakes her other hand to rub and tease at her slippery clit and it immediately has Jordan protesting. 

She’s never done that before. 

Played with Jordan like that. If they were doing anything down there, it usually consisted of Jordan gripping Marie by the hair to force her to let Jordan fuck her face, or Jordan pinning Marie’s thighs down so Jordan can place her cunt over hers over and over again. 

But this, this type of soft, prolonged teasing was not something Jordan had experienced before. 

With anyone.

“M-Moreau,” Jordan starts, almost on reflex. To get her to stop before it’s too late. Except it is too late. 

Jordan had been too distracted by the pleasure she’d been inflicting, because Marie’s fingers are already inside of them, curling and stroking. And it has Jordan screwing their eyes shut and throwing their head backwards. 

“I like watching you like this,” Jordan thinks they can hear Marie murmur softly through the heady, lust-induced haze they’re in. But they can’t be sure. They feel like they’re on a cloud. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” And this time, Jordan does hear that. Their eyes snap open, but deep brown gets lost within deep brown. 

Marie curls her fingers again just enough to make Jordan squirm. They’re so fucking wet right now it’s absolutely vile, how gently Marie’s treating her, juxtaposed with the erotic sound her fingers make every time they enter their soaked cunt. They can see Marie’s eyes darken at the soft sighs leaving Jordan, and at the way their chest flushes and heaves. Jordan bites their lip to keep themselves quiet while their hips hump and writhe against Marie’s fingers. 

“So pretty,” Marie breathes lowly, and Jordan fucking shivers. 

God, they don’t know why they’re letting her do this. Or maybe they do know. Because even though it feels so fucking good, this was the type of behavior they take to the grave. 

Jordan Li doesn’t show weakness. To anyone. Barely even to themselves. The fact that they’re letting Marie mold them, make them feel so vulnerable, so exposed, so good , means that somewhere along the line, Jordan’s somehow grown to trust her. 

Which may just make Marie the first person Jordan has ever fully trusted in their life. No one, not Jordan’s parents, not Brink, or even Cate, had Jordan been able to show their full selves to. The good, the bad, the ugly. Though up until recently, Marie’s been pretty fairly exposed to the ugly. 

Jordan’s not so sure why Marie of all people would have this privilege to see Jordan in their barest state, but something in their brain (something they don’t want to acknowledge) screams at them that they know exactly why. 

“Hunhh, Marie. Shit.” Jordan can hear the way their juices squelch along Marie’s fingers as she increases her pace. They feel that familiar coil building up deep in their stomach, and all it takes is for Marie to speak again for it to snap. 

“Cum for me, baby.” 

When Jordan cums, their whole body tenses first, coupled with their back arching off the bed. 

Their vision sort of whites out, and then they’re letting out the girliest fucking shriek they’ve ever made in their life. 

And Marie stays there, stroking their hair as they come down from their high, almost doting as Jordan’s hips continue to tremble against Marie’s thigh. 

And Jordan doesn’t think they’ve ever been more mortified in their fucking life. 

Their entire face flushes in embarrassment. They don’t even want to acknowledge what just happened. 

They’re immediately shifting just so that sound doesn’t have a chance of exiting their mouth ever again. 

They immediately go to shove Marie off of them, but as if sensing their move, Marie’s holding fast, swinging her legs around to straddle them and pin their wrists by their head. 

They don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into her all of a sudden today, but they feel rooted to the spot. 

Something in them is so fucking scared of her that they can’t even speak, so they just stare at her, baited and slightly breathless. And really fucking terrified at what she’s turning them into. 

She slides herself onto their cock, already wet enough for it to be easy for her, and from the groan that leaves Jordan’s mouth at the sensation, you’d have thought they’d been sucker punched in the stomach. 

She starts riding them. Slowly. And it’s fucking torture. And Jordan quickly begins to realize that this might just be payback for probably everything they’ve ever done to her.

“So good. Your cock feels so good, Jordan,” Marie moans, and something in Jordan breaks. 

Because they can tell from the way that Marie’s eyes glaze over that she’s getting lost in the feel of their cock, hot and throbbing, warming her velvety slick insides.

The next moan they let out is a broken one. 

“It’s so long, and so… deep,” her voice cracks, her breath going high-pitched, like she’s about to fucking whine or squeal, and it makes Jordan want to lose their fucking mind. 

Because normally, this is where Jordan would flip the script, start taunting her, fuck her into the mattress or force her down onto their cock, barking demands at her to tell them just how deep it feels, but right now they can’t even fucking move. 

Jordan whimpers instead. 

“And you’re so pretty, like this.” 

There’s that fucking word again. And she must know what it does to them. The only thing is that they’re not sure how she knows. Maybe there’s just something bout Jordan that screams that they’ve never been described as ‘pretty’ in their entire life. She must know that it gets their body to quiver and their skin to erupt in full-body goosebumps. 

The sound Jordan lets out now is just as embarrassing as the fucking girlish shriek they’d let out earlier. It’s a strangled, pained, fucking deeply pathetic sound. And they would’ve almost felt fully mentally crushed by it if Marie weren’t still on top of them, still making such an absolute sloppy and wet mess on their cock. 

“So, so pretty, Jordan.”

And that’s all it takes. Like someone has tapped a lightning rod against Jordan’s spine, their eyes roll into the back of their head when they cum this time. Their entire body seizes with the force of it, like they’re having a fucking exorcism. They don’t even notice the tears leaking down the side of their cheeks when she’s cumming on them next.

Their body’s still shaking and trembling long after it’s come down from its high. Marie lays beside them, rubs soothing circles into their back, as they struggle to catch their breath and swipe almost angrily at tears they know they don’t deserve to have. Especially not in front of her.

Because she’s surprised them yet again. They’re surprised by her kindness to them. Even now. 

Especially when they’d done nothing to deserve it up to this point. They’re surprised by how much they trust her, how much she’s seen and knows of them. How she’s still here when she should’ve stopped dealing with their shit a long time ago. 

They’d never been nice to her, always unwelcoming and snarky and dismissive. And yet here they were, happily receiving her comfort like it was a lifeline and they never wanted to let go. 

Marie should’ve been making fun of them, rolling their eyes and leaving them to quiver and cry like a child, alone. When Jordan usually finishes fucking into her body, they both pass out without further notice, and then Jordan’s gone in the morning. They’ve held her once or twice out of courtesy for being extra rough. But never for this long. 

There was never any room for this. 

So it’s when Marie delicately strokes the smooth skin of Jordan’s cheek and brushes a stray tear from underneath their eyelid that the guilt comes back to Jordan at full force. 

And they’re suddenly sitting up, trying to move away from her, from the same touch that they’re beginning to realize they crave more than anything on earth. 

Jordan can track the disappointment crossing through Marie’s eyes immediately. But they need to get this out, even if it’s the last thing they do. Even if it makes Marie come to her senses and decide she doesn’t want to be with them anymore. After reminding her of everything they’ve done.

“I’m sorry, ok?” Jordan rips the bandaid off, their eyes blazing with feeling, “For what I said to you earlier.” 

Marie just looks at them blankly, blinking rapidly at the sudden outburst. 

“About the orphan sob story thing. Actually…” Jordan takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry about everything. Everything I ever did or said to you. I am…a deeply insecure person. And I wasn’t thinking about your feelings, only about how I could hurt them.” 

They should’ve done this a long time ago. From before they’d even started what they were doing now. They haven’t snarked at each other for months, but the feeling that had accompanied Jordan’s insults towards her still felt fresh and probably cut just as deep.

Marie nods, and Jordan’s not quite sure if it’s a forgiveness or just a mere acknowledgement. 

They decide they don’t want to find out. 

But then it’s Marie’s turn to take a deep breath. 

“I have a confession,” Jordan’s eyes snap towards Marie’s. 

“You were right. I’m not just here because I want to be a superhero. Vought. They know where my sister is. They might even have her. I thought that if I kept my head down, did what they wanted, tried to generate as much good publicity as possible. It would get her to notice me. Or get Vought to actually listen to my requests. You knew I wasn’t being transparent from the beginning, and it got to me.”

Everything clicks just then for Jordan. 

Marie, she may have been fresh meat, but she had always been smart. Jordan knew that much from the recorded GPA in her Vought file. More importantly, Jordan had always had an inkling that she was more calculated than she had let on. But this, her incentives, they made sense to them now. 

And it all just made Jordan admire her even more than they already begrudgingly had. 

Because now they were alike in another way. Jordan never had the opportunity to use Vought to their advantage, to be both their true hero and their true self. They learned quickly that they had a game to play even if they never ended up winning in the end. 

But Marie had the chance to win. 

And Jordan decides in that moment that they’ll help her, whatever the cost. 

But she’s still talking. 

“The publicity–it’s why I told Vought about my other powers, to get a bigger edge. To get more exposure. Something . I–” 

“–I know where your sister is.” 

Marie’s mouth clamps shut. 

Jordan can see the address vividly in their head. Deep in the Vought files. In her file. 

Jordan remembers everything about it. Because Jordan remembers everything about her. 

Jordan looks up to her next, peering into those deep brown eyes that they now know they could never want to look away from, and decide that Vought is worth nothing if they can’t keep her. 

“And I’ll help you find her.”