lilyswritings

[lilyswritings]

hi guys, just wanted to give you all a little update to let you know i'm still around, still writing, just been a little busy because —

i graduated college on saturday!

still all feels kind of surreal, but i promise to continue to work on writing and stuff in the future <3

i started writing on this blog in february 2016, and it's been one of the only constants in my life while i moved countries, finished high school, moved out, started college, and now graduated with my bachelor's!

i'm eternally grateful for this little community i've built here, and i need you all to know you mean so much to me.

okay, that's enough sappy shit.

love you all!

[lilyswritings]

ok! i heard you guys loud and clear <3

for a bob x reader fic, would we prefer a longer/slower piece following the events of thunderbolts (possibly multiple parts?) OR a shorter piece set after the events of the movie?

if i do one it doesn't mean i won't do the other later, but — what would the people like to see first?

[lilyswritings]

watched thunderbolts last night………..

how would the people feel about a bob x reader fic……… 🫡

[lilyswritings]

( morning reblog in case this got lost in the abyss last night ! )

hatchet.

synopsis: my own iteration of the split-second glimpse of frank we got in the 'daredevil: born again trailer' — some angst, some reunion fluff, some heat... enjoy! author’s note: saw frank castle on the screen for the first time in years and... yeah. wow, i've missed my man. this is obviously inspired by the glimpse of him we get in the new daredevil trailer, but as we obviously don't have any context for it, i put my own little spin on it. does it make any sense? probably not, but when have i ever let that stop me. i got a little carried away, oops! wordcount: 2,988

Frank Castle x Reader

Ever since your vigilante boyfriend had to drop off the face of the Earth, you've become something of a social recluse.

Yeah, sure, you still keep in sporadic touch with Matt, Foggy, and Karen, but having to say goodbye to the man you love the most in the world and never see him again definitely dampened your appetite for social interaction.

It also made you paranoid, said Karen over a late-night drink, and though you'd disputed that fact at the time, she had a point. You glance over your shoulder everywhere you go, tuck your body into the corner-most seat at every restaurant as your eyes scan the crowd, and spend hours each night browsing the web for sightings of the infamous 'Punisher'.

That's not paranoia, you muse to yourself. It's desperation.

You look for him everywhere. But you know he's too good at what he does to be found by happenstance, and that when it's safe — for you, that is — he'll resurface.

"You're not safe." The two of you had been arguing for what must have been an hour at that point, with him reiterating the same stupid point over and over again.

You had planted your hands on your hips at that point, sick of feeling told what to do, and not even considering his ridiculous idea of disappearing. "You're not listening to me. I can fend for myself, and, honestly, I don't see how you leaving me will make me any safer than I am when you're—"

"Because they'll be coming after me, and if they figure out that they can get to me through you, then you'll become a target to them—"

"We've been over this already," You throw your hands up in exasperation, sick of feeling coddled. "I don't care, I—"

"Well I do!" Frank's voice had just erupted then, rising to a shouting volume for the first time all night, and you'd held back the retort poised on your lips, recognizing the severity in his expression. "I care if you disappear, or get hurt, or..."

Neither of you need him to finish that sentence, you both understand exactly what he's afraid of.

"I will not let them take you too." His voice cracked, and the anger in your body dissipated immediately, replaced by tears brimming in your eyes.

"So what, I just never see you again?" Your brows tug together, face crumpling as the reality of his plan sets in.

"Hey, no, c'mere," He tugs you into his arms, pressing your head against his chest, and you burrow into him, latching your hands around his torso as if maybe, just maybe, the harder you hold onto him, the less you'll have to let him go. "It's not never." The rumble of his voice in his chest has always been soothing to you, but his words set you on edge.

"But you don't know how long." You keep your face pressed into the worn grey fabric of his shirt as you speak, hoping to hide the devastation on your face. It's not a question. He doesn't answer, and your heart shatters on the spot, tears seeping into his shirt as your world falls apart.

Frank was gone before you even woke up the next morning.

You shake yourself out of the memory of that day, glancing over your shoulder as you turn down the street towards your local gym. Part of your coping mechanism for Frank leaving was proving him wrong, proving that you don't need him to protect you — that you can protect yourself.

That he doesn't need to leave again.

You're grateful for the silence in the gym, having paid the gym owner to let you in after hours, so you don't have to worry about seeing other people while you work out — a pet peeve of yours.

You lose yourself in your routine — focusing on strength, on combat, hitting the sandbag until your knuckles ache and kicking the mannequin until your shins turn red — until finally, red and sweaty and panting, you decide to wrap up for the day.

You've just opened your locker when you hear it — the quietest creak of the door closing, deliberately quiet, like someone is trying to sneak in. Your breath catches in your chest, slipping your hand into your gym bag and wrapping around the handle of one of the weapons you'd brought with you.

Yeah, okay, maybe you'd gone a little overboard bringing a hatchet with you to the gym, but you're grateful for it right now. You spot a dark shape move in the reflection of the metal locker, and you grit your teeth.

This is it, the people Frank were running from have found you. Fear builds in your throat, cloying at your windpipe, but one thought rings through your head that steadies you. He can't lose you too.

And with that, you wheel around, weapon swinging through the air as you go. A strong hand catches your forearm, pausing your attack, and you drop the weapon into your other waiting hand —

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of your so-called attacker.

It doesn't feel real, and for a moment, you panic, stumbling a step backwards in fear that this is some kind of trick, that it's not him, but then he steps into the light from the window, hands raised in a placating motion, and you gasp.

"You gonna put the hatchet down?" The deep rumble of Frank's voice runs through you, achingly familiar, and the weapon slips out of your hand and clatters loudly against the concrete.

"...Frank." You breathe out, the word barely audible in your state of shock, and watch as his dark eyes run over your features, as if mapping out your face. The moment stretches out seemingly infinitely — the only sound in the room your intermingled bated breaths, eyes drinking in the sight of each other ravenously.

"Hi sweetheart." A tentative smile tugs at the corner of his mouth — his facial hair is longer, the rugged look suits him, you've always liked the beard — and as your mind runs a millions miles a minute, the spell is broken, and you catapult into him, your bodies colliding as you fling your arms around his neck and sob against him.

His strong arms — tree trunks, you'd called them once — wrap around you in a way that feels like home, and you breathe in his scent of leather and coffee and gunpowder. The embrace is grounding, as you feel the quickened rise and fall of his chest between your arms and your torso.

"You're real." You whisper into his neck, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm real." The roughness of his voice feels even thicker, wrought with an emotion you can't quite place — relief, possibly. Regret, maybe. Both, most likely.

You fist your fingers tighter into his shirt, still unwilling to let go of him as your own wave of emotions cascades over you. "You left."

Frank's sharp exhale breezes over the top of your head. "I know."

“I looked for you— I looked everywhere—”

His grip tightens as you speak, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. “I know, baby. I know. You know I never wanted to leave you. You know that.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you out of your skin, and you break the embrace for the first time to dart down to pick up the hatchet you'd dropped, whirling around to face the noise.

"Matt." You gasp when your eyes land on him, and the lawyer smiles sheepishly in return.

"Just wanted to remind the two of you that you're not alone." He punctuates his sentence with a tap of his cane on the ground, and you sigh out a shaky laugh.

"What're you even doing here?"

"How do you think Frank knew how to find you?" He cocks his head, readjusting his red glasses, and you spin to find Frank.

Frank rubs a hand over his jaw as his eyes flicker between you and Matt, shifting his weight slightly — you can tell he's uncomfortable. "Called in a favour," He admits, eyes falling down to bore a hole into the concrete floor. "Didn't know how to—" He stops short, eyes darkening as he exhales, finally rising to meet your gaze again. "Didn’t know if you'd want to see me again."

Your heart clenches at his words, and you glance over at Matt, who gives you the smallest, knowing smile. "Thank you." You utter, barely a whisper, aimed so only Matt will hear it.

“I’ll, uh, give you two some time alone," Matt says, nodding at each of you. "I'll see you around."

And with that, he turns, cane tapping against the gym floor as he walks away, leaving you and Frank standing in the silence.

This is the time when you should get angry. Yell at him, shove at him, make him truly understand what it felt like to be all alone for all this time. But when you take him in, the lines on his face, the way his eyes dart around the room, you know he felt it all too.

Instead, you sigh, reaching for your boyfriend's hand, and say, "Take me home."

And he does.

The walk home is quiet. Frank keeps a hand on you the whole way, though — his fingers grazing your wrist as you step onto the sidewalk, resting on the small of your back as you wait at a crosswalk, a gentle weight on your forearm as you go to unlock your apartment door. A reassurance — you're here, he's back. The constant reminder is necessary for the both of you, you imagine.

Inside the apartment, the air feels thick, hanging with the unspoken — a possible argument looming on the horizon, the potential reunion of two lovers who've spent time apart, the hazard that this is a relationship ruined beyond repair — you can feel every scenario run through your brain at a mile a minute, and it's making you sick.

You lock your door behind you, fingers lingering on the deadbolt before you turn to find Frank standing in the dim light of your living room. His shoulders are tense, like he’s waiting for you to chew him out, like he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

Your anxiety melts, realizing he's having the same train of thought you are.

“You hungry?”

A flicker of surprise passes over his face, and he nods once, glancing towards your kitchen. “Uh, yeah.”

"Don't get too excited, it's just leftovers from last night." You warn as you pass him, moving the takeout containers from the fridge to the microwave while Frank leans against the counter, watching you.

His presence is heavy, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. You hand him a container and a fork, and he takes them with a quiet thanks.

The two of you eat in near silence, sitting in close proximity on your beat up old couch. You don’t ask where he’s been, what he's done, and he doesn’t offer. Not yet.

You lean over and place your empty container on the coffee table, watching as he does the same, before turning and capturing his lips with yours, sick of the mutual silent treatment you had both endeavoured upon.

He meets your kiss eagerly, hungrily, getting over his initial shock in record time. You both lose yourself in the embrace, pausing briefly to squeal against his lips as he lifts you up and places you in his lap, straddling his waist, your cheeks blazing at the sudden change in position.

Eventually, the two of you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as silence settles back into the space of your apartment and your heart stops thundering against your eardrums.

“You should get some rest.” You say, softer than you mean to, and he chuckles under you.

"If you want to get me into your bed you can just say so, sweetheart." The rumble of his laugh deepens as you roll your eyes and smack him on the chest, standing up from the couch and placing your hands on your hips.

"I mean it," You raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're tired, and we can resume... This, later."

Frank stands with a sigh, smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and you roll your eyes again, suppressing your own wide smile. "Alright, alright." He holds his hands up in surrender, moving toward the bedroom.

You toss the empty containers, taking a moment to compose yourself and tamp down the giddy feeling in your chest at Frank's return. You rifle through a cabinet in the living room, finding the basket of Frank's clothes you'd stashed away, and pull out a worn t-shirt and pajama pants before heading into the bedroom.

When you enter, you frown at the empty room. Glancing into the bathroom to find Frank also not in there, your heart begins to thunder in your chest. He wouldn't, you tell yourself, but doubt begins to gnaw at you.

Suddenly, a hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you wheel around and press your arm to the throat of your attacker.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." Frank's amused smile greets you, and you gasp.

"Jesus, Frank!" You exhale, eyes wide. "You're such an asshole!"

"I'm impressed, is what I am."

"What, you wanted proof that I can beat your ass now?"

"Is that so?" He raises one dark eyebrow, smirking slightly, and your stomach drops.

Before you have a chance to react he's latched a foot behind your leg and sweeps you off your footing, following you down as you crash back onto the bed, his hands encircling your wrists and keeping you down. A breathy laugh bubbles out of you, caught off guard, before you roll your eyes.

"That wasn't fair." You complain, trying very hard not to think about how little you mind being stuck in this position.

Frank makes a 'tsk' sound, leaning down into your space. "You let yourself get distracted." You make a humming sound, lifting your head off the bed to press your lips against Frank's, smiling when he reciprocates, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw.

Success.

You pull a knee up, tucking it between your bodies, before swinging your weight sideways and causing him to tumble sideways onto the bed this time. You scramble to get on top of him, thighs on either side as you press your hands to his wrists.

"Ooh, don't get so distracted, Castle." A cocky smirk alights on your face, peering down at him, and your heart flutters as a broad smile cracks open his mouth.

      Frank huffs out a laugh beneath you, causing the entire bed to shake lightly as he shakes his head. "I'll give you that one." He admits, his eyes gleaming with emotion — something like pride, but softer, heavier, and your heart melts in your chest. 

      You lean your weight forward, pressing your palms harder against his wrists to keep him pinned (though you're both aware he could break free if he really wanted to) but he doesn't. He just lays there, raking his dark eyes over your face, his expression unreadable now. 

      The air between the two of you shifts, and then slows. 

      You swallow thickly, increasingly aware of the warmth and solidity of his body beneath you, of his eyes on your face, tracing a path from your lips back up to your eyes. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering, and you're grateful when he speaks first. 

      “You missed me.” His voice is lower, impossibly gravellier than usual, and definitive. It's not a question. 

      You nod, throat tightening. "Yes," You breathe. "I did."

      His expression softens, the sharp edges of him melting away as you both take each other in — like earlier in the gym, but with less desperation, less shock. He shifts, tugging one of his hands free from your grip with alarming ease, but instead of pushing you off of him, he reaches up and traces the edge of your cheek with the back of his fingers, leaving them to rest against your skin, rough and warm. 

      You lean into his touch, exhaling shakily. "You're back."

       Frank nods, his fingers drifting down to cup the back of your neck. “Yeah. I’m back.”

      For how long, you don’t ask. You don’t want to know.

      Instead, you lean your torso down, tilting your head as you slot your mouth against his in a kiss that's slower this time, less teasing, releasing his other hand and placing both of yours on either side of his head. He takes his newly freed hands and rests them against your waist, pulling you down even closer against him. 

      You're not sure how long the two of you remain tangled up in each other, pressing kisses against skin as if trying to make up for lost time. Eventually, reality seeps back in, and Frank pulls away to gaze at you with the softest darkest eyes you've ever seen.

      “You ever gonna tell me what the hell you were doing in that gym with a goddamn hatchet?” His voice is gruff, teasing, but there’s something else there, too — concern.

      You huff, rolling your eyes but not pulling away. “I was proving a point.”

      Frank lifts an eyebrow. “That point being?”

      “That I can take care of myself.”

      His expression flickers, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, finally, he nods. “Yeah,” He murmurs, thumb brushing against your jaw. “I can see that.”

       A beat of silence. Then, his lips twitch. “A hatchet, though? Really?” 

      You groan, smacking his shoulder as he laughs, deep and warm, and you can’t help but think — yeah. He’s back.

[lilyswritings]

hatchet.

synopsis: my own iteration of the split-second glimpse of frank we got in the 'daredevil: born again trailer' — some angst, some reunion fluff, some heat... enjoy! author’s note: saw frank castle on the screen for the first time in years and... yeah. wow, i've missed my man. this is obviously inspired by the glimpse of him we get in the new daredevil trailer, but as we obviously don't have any context for it, i put my own little spin on it. does it make any sense? probably not, but when have i ever let that stop me. i got a little carried away, oops! wordcount: 2,988

Frank Castle x Reader

Ever since your vigilante boyfriend had to drop off the face of the Earth, you've become something of a social recluse.

Yeah, sure, you still keep in sporadic touch with Matt, Foggy, and Karen, but having to say goodbye to the man you love the most in the world and never see him again definitely dampened your appetite for social interaction.

It also made you paranoid, said Karen over a late-night drink, and though you'd disputed that fact at the time, she had a point. You glance over your shoulder everywhere you go, tuck your body into the corner-most seat at every restaurant as your eyes scan the crowd, and spend hours each night browsing the web for sightings of the infamous 'Punisher'.

That's not paranoia, you muse to yourself. It's desperation.

You look for him everywhere. But you know he's too good at what he does to be found by happenstance, and that when it's safe — for you, that is — he'll resurface.

"You're not safe." The two of you had been arguing for what must have been an hour at that point, with him reiterating the same stupid point over and over again.

You had planted your hands on your hips at that point, sick of feeling told what to do, and not even considering his ridiculous idea of disappearing. "You're not listening to me. I can fend for myself, and, honestly, I don't see how you leaving me will make me any safer than I am when you're—"

"Because they'll be coming after me, and if they figure out that they can get to me through you, then you'll become a target to them—"

"We've been over this already," You throw your hands up in exasperation, sick of feeling coddled. "I don't care, I—"

"Well I do!" Frank's voice had just erupted then, rising to a shouting volume for the first time all night, and you'd held back the retort poised on your lips, recognizing the severity in his expression. "I care if you disappear, or get hurt, or..."

Neither of you need him to finish that sentence, you both understand exactly what he's afraid of.

"I will not let them take you too." His voice cracked, and the anger in your body dissipated immediately, replaced by tears brimming in your eyes.

"So what, I just never see you again?" Your brows tug together, face crumpling as the reality of his plan sets in.

"Hey, no, c'mere," He tugs you into his arms, pressing your head against his chest, and you burrow into him, latching your hands around his torso as if maybe, just maybe, the harder you hold onto him, the less you'll have to let him go. "It's not never." The rumble of his voice in his chest has always been soothing to you, but his words set you on edge.

"But you don't know how long." You keep your face pressed into the worn grey fabric of his shirt as you speak, hoping to hide the devastation on your face. It's not a question. He doesn't answer, and your heart shatters on the spot, tears seeping into his shirt as your world falls apart.

Frank was gone before you even woke up the next morning.

You shake yourself out of the memory of that day, glancing over your shoulder as you turn down the street towards your local gym. Part of your coping mechanism for Frank leaving was proving him wrong, proving that you don't need him to protect you — that you can protect yourself.

That he doesn't need to leave again.

You're grateful for the silence in the gym, having paid the gym owner to let you in after hours, so you don't have to worry about seeing other people while you work out — a pet peeve of yours.

You lose yourself in your routine — focusing on strength, on combat, hitting the sandbag until your knuckles ache and kicking the mannequin until your shins turn red — until finally, red and sweaty and panting, you decide to wrap up for the day.

You've just opened your locker when you hear it — the quietest creak of the door closing, deliberately quiet, like someone is trying to sneak in. Your breath catches in your chest, slipping your hand into your gym bag and wrapping around the handle of one of the weapons you'd brought with you.

Yeah, okay, maybe you'd gone a little overboard bringing a hatchet with you to the gym, but you're grateful for it right now. You spot a dark shape move in the reflection of the metal locker, and you grit your teeth.

This is it, the people Frank were running from have found you. Fear builds in your throat, cloying at your windpipe, but one thought rings through your head that steadies you. He can't lose you too.

And with that, you wheel around, weapon swinging through the air as you go. A strong hand catches your forearm, pausing your attack, and you drop the weapon into your other waiting hand —

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of your so-called attacker.

It doesn't feel real, and for a moment, you panic, stumbling a step backwards in fear that this is some kind of trick, that it's not him, but then he steps into the light from the window, hands raised in a placating motion, and you gasp.

"You gonna put the hatchet down?" The deep rumble of Frank's voice runs through you, achingly familiar, and the weapon slips out of your hand and clatters loudly against the concrete.

"...Frank." You breathe out, the word barely audible in your state of shock, and watch as his dark eyes run over your features, as if mapping out your face. The moment stretches out seemingly infinitely — the only sound in the room your intermingled bated breaths, eyes drinking in the sight of each other ravenously.

"Hi sweetheart." A tentative smile tugs at the corner of his mouth — his facial hair is longer, the rugged look suits him, you've always liked the beard — and as your mind runs a millions miles a minute, the spell is broken, and you catapult into him, your bodies colliding as you fling your arms around his neck and sob against him.

His strong arms — tree trunks, you'd called them once — wrap around you in a way that feels like home, and you breathe in his scent of leather and coffee and gunpowder. The embrace is grounding, as you feel the quickened rise and fall of his chest between your arms and your torso.

"You're real." You whisper into his neck, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm real." The roughness of his voice feels even thicker, wrought with an emotion you can't quite place — relief, possibly. Regret, maybe. Both, most likely.

You fist your fingers tighter into his shirt, still unwilling to let go of him as your own wave of emotions cascades over you. "You left."

Frank's sharp exhale breezes over the top of your head. "I know."

“I looked for you— I looked everywhere—”

His grip tightens as you speak, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. “I know, baby. I know. You know I never wanted to leave you. You know that.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you out of your skin, and you break the embrace for the first time to dart down to pick up the hatchet you'd dropped, whirling around to face the noise.

"Matt." You gasp when your eyes land on him, and the lawyer smiles sheepishly in return.

"Just wanted to remind the two of you that you're not alone." He punctuates his sentence with a tap of his cane on the ground, and you sigh out a shaky laugh.

"What're you even doing here?"

"How do you think Frank knew how to find you?" He cocks his head, readjusting his red glasses, and you spin to find Frank.

Frank rubs a hand over his jaw as his eyes flicker between you and Matt, shifting his weight slightly — you can tell he's uncomfortable. "Called in a favour," He admits, eyes falling down to bore a hole into the concrete floor. "Didn't know how to—" He stops short, eyes darkening as he exhales, finally rising to meet your gaze again. "Didn’t know if you'd want to see me again."

Your heart clenches at his words, and you glance over at Matt, who gives you the smallest, knowing smile. "Thank you." You utter, barely a whisper, aimed so only Matt will hear it.

“I’ll, uh, give you two some time alone," Matt says, nodding at each of you. "I'll see you around."

And with that, he turns, cane tapping against the gym floor as he walks away, leaving you and Frank standing in the silence.

This is the time when you should get angry. Yell at him, shove at him, make him truly understand what it felt like to be all alone for all this time. But when you take him in, the lines on his face, the way his eyes dart around the room, you know he felt it all too.

Instead, you sigh, reaching for your boyfriend's hand, and say, "Take me home."

And he does.

The walk home is quiet. Frank keeps a hand on you the whole way, though — his fingers grazing your wrist as you step onto the sidewalk, resting on the small of your back as you wait at a crosswalk, a gentle weight on your forearm as you go to unlock your apartment door. A reassurance — you're here, he's back. The constant reminder is necessary for the both of you, you imagine.

Inside the apartment, the air feels thick, hanging with the unspoken — a possible argument looming on the horizon, the potential reunion of two lovers who've spent time apart, the hazard that this is a relationship ruined beyond repair — you can feel every scenario run through your brain at a mile a minute, and it's making you sick.

You lock your door behind you, fingers lingering on the deadbolt before you turn to find Frank standing in the dim light of your living room. His shoulders are tense, like he’s waiting for you to chew him out, like he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

Your anxiety melts, realizing he's having the same train of thought you are.

“You hungry?”

A flicker of surprise passes over his face, and he nods once, glancing towards your kitchen. “Uh, yeah.”

"Don't get too excited, it's just leftovers from last night." You warn as you pass him, moving the takeout containers from the fridge to the microwave while Frank leans against the counter, watching you.

His presence is heavy, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. You hand him a container and a fork, and he takes them with a quiet thanks.

The two of you eat in near silence, sitting in close proximity on your beat up old couch. You don’t ask where he’s been, what he's done, and he doesn’t offer. Not yet.

You lean over and place your empty container on the coffee table, watching as he does the same, before turning and capturing his lips with yours, sick of the mutual silent treatment you had both endeavoured upon.

He meets your kiss eagerly, hungrily, getting over his initial shock in record time. You both lose yourself in the embrace, pausing briefly to squeal against his lips as he lifts you up and places you in his lap, straddling his waist, your cheeks blazing at the sudden change in position.

Eventually, the two of you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as silence settles back into the space of your apartment and your heart stops thundering against your eardrums.

“You should get some rest.” You say, softer than you mean to, and he chuckles under you.

"If you want to get me into your bed you can just say so, sweetheart." The rumble of his laugh deepens as you roll your eyes and smack him on the chest, standing up from the couch and placing your hands on your hips.

"I mean it," You raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're tired, and we can resume... This, later."

Frank stands with a sigh, smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and you roll your eyes again, suppressing your own wide smile. "Alright, alright." He holds his hands up in surrender, moving toward the bedroom.

You toss the empty containers, taking a moment to compose yourself and tamp down the giddy feeling in your chest at Frank's return. You rifle through a cabinet in the living room, finding the basket of Frank's clothes you'd stashed away, and pull out a worn t-shirt and pajama pants before heading into the bedroom.

When you enter, you frown at the empty room. Glancing into the bathroom to find Frank also not in there, your heart begins to thunder in your chest. He wouldn't, you tell yourself, but doubt begins to gnaw at you.

Suddenly, a hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you wheel around and press your arm to the throat of your attacker.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." Frank's amused smile greets you, and you gasp.

"Jesus, Frank!" You exhale, eyes wide. "You're such an asshole!"

"I'm impressed, is what I am."

"What, you wanted proof that I can beat your ass now?"

"Is that so?" He raises one dark eyebrow, smirking slightly, and your stomach drops.

Before you have a chance to react he's latched a foot behind your leg and sweeps you off your footing, following you down as you crash back onto the bed, his hands encircling your wrists and keeping you down. A breathy laugh bubbles out of you, caught off guard, before you roll your eyes.

"That wasn't fair." You complain, trying very hard not to think about how little you mind being stuck in this position.

Frank makes a 'tsk' sound, leaning down into your space. "You let yourself get distracted." You make a humming sound, lifting your head off the bed to press your lips against Frank's, smiling when he reciprocates, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw.

Success.

You pull a knee up, tucking it between your bodies, before swinging your weight sideways and causing him to tumble sideways onto the bed this time. You scramble to get on top of him, thighs on either side as you press your hands to his wrists.

"Ooh, don't get so distracted, Castle." A cocky smirk alights on your face, peering down at him, and your heart flutters as a broad smile cracks open his mouth.

      Frank huffs out a laugh beneath you, causing the entire bed to shake lightly as he shakes his head. "I'll give you that one." He admits, his eyes gleaming with emotion — something like pride, but softer, heavier, and your heart melts in your chest. 

      You lean your weight forward, pressing your palms harder against his wrists to keep him pinned (though you're both aware he could break free if he really wanted to) but he doesn't. He just lays there, raking his dark eyes over your face, his expression unreadable now. 

      The air between the two of you shifts, and then slows. 

      You swallow thickly, increasingly aware of the warmth and solidity of his body beneath you, of his eyes on your face, tracing a path from your lips back up to your eyes. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering, and you're grateful when he speaks first. 

      “You missed me.” His voice is lower, impossibly gravellier than usual, and definitive. It's not a question. 

      You nod, throat tightening. "Yes," You breathe. "I did."

      His expression softens, the sharp edges of him melting away as you both take each other in — like earlier in the gym, but with less desperation, less shock. He shifts, tugging one of his hands free from your grip with alarming ease, but instead of pushing you off of him, he reaches up and traces the edge of your cheek with the back of his fingers, leaving them to rest against your skin, rough and warm. 

      You lean into his touch, exhaling shakily. "You're back."

       Frank nods, his fingers drifting down to cup the back of your neck. “Yeah. I’m back.”

      For how long, you don’t ask. You don’t want to know.

      Instead, you lean your torso down, tilting your head as you slot your mouth against his in a kiss that's slower this time, less teasing, releasing his other hand and placing both of yours on either side of his head. He takes his newly freed hands and rests them against your waist, pulling you down even closer against him. 

      You're not sure how long the two of you remain tangled up in each other, pressing kisses against skin as if trying to make up for lost time. Eventually, reality seeps back in, and Frank pulls away to gaze at you with the softest darkest eyes you've ever seen.

      “You ever gonna tell me what the hell you were doing in that gym with a goddamn hatchet?” His voice is gruff, teasing, but there’s something else there, too — concern.

      You huff, rolling your eyes but not pulling away. “I was proving a point.”

      Frank lifts an eyebrow. “That point being?”

      “That I can take care of myself.”

      His expression flickers, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, finally, he nods. “Yeah,” He murmurs, thumb brushing against your jaw. “I can see that.”

       A beat of silence. Then, his lips twitch. “A hatchet, though? Really?” 

      You groan, smacking his shoulder as he laughs, deep and warm, and you can’t help but think — yeah. He’s back.

[lilyswritings]

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

[lilyswritings]

https://www.tumblr.com/lilyswritings/772786742318284800/frank-castle-on-my-dash-again-in-the-year-of-our?source=share

PLEASEEEEEE

🫡

[lilyswritings]

ahaha okay, heard you all loud and clear 🫡

it seems i'm not the only one who's been missing my man <3

while i work on it, check out my previous frank fics (shameless plug) !!

frank castle on my dash again in the year of our lord 2025.........

does anyone want a fic......... 👀

[lilyswritings]

frank castle on my dash again in the year of our lord 2025.........

does anyone want a fic......... 👀

[lilyswritings]

freshly updated, so throwing this back out into the void !

— 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

here is the masterlist of my reader-insert imagines, sorted by fandom, character, and dated to keep it chronological ! 

( last updated dec. 18th, 2024 )

Keep reading

[lilyswritings]

called it !

synopsis: academic rivals to lovers with jordan li. need i say more?

author’s note: i watched gen v lastt fall and fell absolutely head over heels for jordan li, and ever since then i've had the brainrot of thinking non-stop about academic rivals/enemies to lovers with them, and.... well, anyway, here's the result of that! took me a ridiculously long amoung of time so i hope you guys enjoy — it's actually my birthday today, so here's my birthday gift to you all! <3 also, in case the powers get confusing i figured i would explain ahead of time lol : reader’s powers are energy absorption/redistribution — when skin on skin contact is made, reader can absorb energy from others, and can redistribute it through blasts of energy/heightened strength <3

wordcount: 4,390.... buckle in, i'm insane.

Jordan Li x Reader

"God, they are so fucking annoying." You grumble, sinking lower into your chair as you watch Jordan Li tug some pretty new freshman into one of the rows of bookshelves, signature smirk plastered on their lips as they seek somewhere private. The freshman giggles and blinks up at them with big doe eyes as they disappear behind the stacks, and you roll your eyes dramatically. "Like, get a room, am I right?"

It's insufferable.

Your table is suddenly quiet, too quiet, and when you look back over at your friends they're exchanging sideways glances with each other, lips pressed together. "Okay, what's up with you two?" You demand, exasperated, and Emma shrugs, biting her lip.

"Sounds like someone's jealous." The last word comes out in a sing-song voice and your mouth drops open, aghast.

"What? Why the hell would I be—?" You sputter, glancing between them, and Marie raises her eyebrows at you.

"Oh, come on, it's like you two are... Magnetic, or something. They walk by, you watch, you enter a room, they appear moments later. It's kind of sweet." Marie tucks a braid behind her ear as she talks, brown eyes blinking at you.

"Uh, no, no no —" You're flailing, taken completely aback by what your friends are saying. Okay, fine, you might have had a crush on Jordan for a good two years at this point, but it's not like you ogle them whenever they're in the room with you, or, well—

Okay, so maybe you do, but they definitely aren't ogling back at you, and that's what matters. "That's so entirely not what's happening here."

It's no secret on campus that you and Jordan don't like each other — ever since Brink decided to hire you as another teaching assistant for him, Jordan has taken every possible chance to fuck with you, and vice versa.

A stack of papers you graded for Brink will disappear only to helpfully be found by Jordan a day later, filed in the 'wrong place' — you know damn well you filed them correctly — or you'll swoop in and pick up Brink's coffee order before Jordan has the chance to, smiling widely at your boss when he tells you that you always get his order 'just right'.

Yes, it's petty, but they started it. They can't stand not being Brink's favourite anymore, so they take it out on you. You, in turn, wreak your own little havoc on their life, having attempted the agreeable and polite route first, only to be scoffed at and ignored at every turn — so, if they want to play it like this, then so be it.

Marie and Emma sneak a glance at each other again and you scoff. "Oh my god! Seriously, you guys! That's so not what's going on there, and— I don't even know where you got that idea in the first place."

"Okay, sure, whatever you say." Marie holds up her hands in a surrendering motion, reaching down to pick her pen back up, and you nod, glad that they're finally dropping the matter, until you look back up and catch your blonde friend peering over her laptop at you, a mischievous look in her big blue eyes.

"It's adorable, though, really, that you think you're hiding it." Emma tacks on unhelpfully, and you toss your pencil at her, her ensuing giggle only succeeding in riling you up even more.

"You guys are way off base." You finally muster up your composure enough to retort, gaze focused firmly on the assignment in front of you. "They're the bane of my existence."

You do, however, sneak a sly glance up as Jordan and their cute little companion exit the bookshelves, smirking, and you can't suppress your nose scrunching up at the sight of their hand resting on the curve of the freshman's back.

So annoying, you think, turning back to write your paper, completely missing the knowing glance exchanged between your friends as Jordan peeks over their shoulder at you right before leaving the library.

A few days later, you find yourself in the training room, trying to channel your frustration into something productive. The poor defenseless sparring dummy in front of you is taking the brunt of your anger, but the real source of your irritation is fueled by an interaction you had with Jordan earlier that day.

It was during your Combat Tactics class, a course where you and Jordan are both top students, constantly trying to outdo each other. The two of you had been paired up for a demonstration, something that tends to bring out the worst streak of competitiveness in the both of you.

The exercise was supposed to be a simple takedown — no powers involved — but of course, nothing’s simple when it comes to you and Jordan. The instructor had barely finished explaining the guidelines when Jordan had shifted to their female form, quick as lightning, darting towards you to try and catch you off guard.

You barely managed to counter, blindsided, briefly side stepping out of their path, but before you knew it, Jordan had doubled down, shifting into their male form and using their superior strength to pin you against the mat.

“Too slow." They’d taunted, dark eyes glimmering with victory as they leaned down, keeping you immobilized.

Your blood had boiled at the sound of their smug tone, and with a surge of your power, your eyes had lit up and blasted a bright light in their face, managing to flip the situation and pin them beneath you. You smirked as you leaned down, eyes still aglow, and caught Jordan looking at you with something that could almost be construed as admiration.

Your instructor's voice cut through the tension, telling you off for using your powers, and your heart dropped as she informed you that you'd failed the exercise.

The smirk on Jordan’s face as they got up told you everything — you might have won the round, but they’d gotten under your skin and made you fuck up in front of a teacher.

“Tough luck.” They’d said, acting as if they had no part in what just happened, and your brow furrowed.

“It wasn’t luck,” You’d shot back, your voice low and tense. “You goaded me into that.”

Jordan had simply shrugged, a smug smile on their face as they backed out of the room, an action that lit your blood on fire.

Now, as you throw yet another punch at the dummy, you can’t stop replaying the way they’d looked at you — like they were enjoying pushing your buttons and causing you to fuck up in front of the whole class. It drives you crazy, the way they always manage to get a rise out of you, no matter how hard you try to keep your cool.

There's a gust of air that alerts you to the opening of the door to the training room behind you, and you don’t even need to look to know it’s them.

Jordan saunters into the room, their presence filling the space with that same infuriating confidence as they quirk an eyebrow at you, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail and workout clothes on that leave nothing to the imagination about their feminine form.

God, focus.

“Still working on that form, rookie?” They quip as they lean against a pillar, their tone light but with an undercurrent of smugness that makes your teeth clench.

“The form that beat you earlier?” You retort, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice as you raise an eyebrow at them.

Jordan smirks, clearly amused. “Should I be impressed that you're winning the fight against the inanimate object?" They push off the pillar and saunter closer. “You know, if you want to get better, you should train with something that can actually fight back.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing full well this is just another one of their games. “Thanks, but I don’t need your help.”

“Scared you’ll lose?”

“Scared you’ll get your ass handed to you again.” You retort, your competitive streak flaring up.

Jordan’s eyes gleam with a challenge, and before you know it, they’ve beckoned you into the ring with them. Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline already raised from the tension of the earlier fight and your sparring before they’d arriver.

They cock their head at you, raising an eyebrow, and you grit your teeth. As soon as they go to land a blow on you, your hand latches around their wrist, your powers kicking in as you begin to draw energy from them. 

Your eyes start to glow, alerting them to your move, and they tug their arm away from you and blast you with a beam of light, something you just barely duck out of the path of. You manage to shift your weight and throw a punch back at them, but they switch forms at the last second and it your fist lands on what feels like a concrete wall. 

  The sparring match lasts a while, an intense match where neither of you are willing to back down first. Jordan is quick, but when in their masculine form you’re faster, landing blows that surprise even yourself. But Jordan catches on to some of your moves and soon the match devolves into a close-quarters struggle.

At one point, you find yourself beneath them, their hands locked around your wrists, pinning you to the ground, dark eyes locked on yours. The proximity is overwhelming, and for a split second, something shifts in the air between you. 

You can see the glint in their eyes, a mix of triumph and something else — something that makes your heart pound in a way that has nothing to do with the fight. Their eyes dart down your face, their grip on your wrists faltering, and you take seize your chance to tug out a hand and latch onto their wrist, absorbing some of their energy and temporarily breaking their super strength advantage over you. 

With that burst of energy you maneuver out from under them and roll away, getting back on your feet.

Jordan’s eyebrows are raised when they stand back up, seemingly impressed as they look down at their hands, clearly feeling weaker than usual. “Not bad, rookie.” 

“Was that a compliment?” You smirk, and their own lips curve in response.

“Was that a smile?” They gasp dramatically, and you force your face to go blank again as you spin on your heel to leave, finding it harder to keep the smile off your face.

“Don’t get used to it.” You shoot back as you leave the gym, but your words hold no venom and you miss the bright smile that cracks open Jordan’s face as you disappear down the corridor.

Three days later, Brink announces that he wants you and Jordan to work together to plan an upcoming fundraiser for Godolkin, much to Jordan's dismay. Normally, this sort of thing would be left entirely up to Jordan, but for some reason Brink wanted you in on it as well.

Which leads to now — you, stood in front of your locker, attempting to get in contact with Jordan for the umpteenth time. They're throwing a tantrum at having to share the project with you, and it's really starting to piss you off. You try their phone again, cursing when you get voicemail yet again.

"Look, Jordan, this wasn't my decision, so stop punishing me for it. It's what Brink wants, and we have got to get together to start planning. This is my fifth time calling," You tack on, getting irritated. "Pick up the fucking phone, you're acting like a child. You can't ignore me forever." You finish, ending the call with an exasperated sigh.

You curse again, your eyes beginning to glow faintly as your anger begins to get the best of you, but you take a calming breath and will your eyes to fade back to normal. Making a scene in the hallway isn't going to help anyone. You've just about calmed yourself down when you spot a familiar head of black hair a few feet down the hallway and your mouth drops open when you spot Jordan and their friends.

"Motherfucker..." You curse, the visual confirmation that they are indeed ignoring you relighting your anger.

"Jordan." You call after them, brows furrowing as they begin to disappear down the busy hallway. You scoff as you continue after them, irritated by being lured into a chase. "Jordan!"

You know they can hear you when they half-turn their head and shift into their female form, now shorter than most of the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and pissing you off even more as they continue their brisk pace down the hallway.

You stand on your tiptoes, trying to get a good look at them again, when someone grabs your arm and roughly tugs you towards them. When you look up, your eyes land on campus sleazebag Rufus, a smug smile plastered on his face, and your eyes glow immediately at the sight of him.

"Nice light show." He snarks, stepping into your personal space, and your hands begin to emit light as well, your built-up anger from the day coming to a head.

"Fuck off." You would hope your building powers make him get the memo, but he just steps closer to you, effectively backing you into a locker with nowhere to go.

"Do you also light up when, you know..." His eyes dart down the length of your body and your nose scrunches in disgust as you tug your arm, trying to get out of his grip, but his stupid advanced strength means he keeps a firm grip on you.

You open your mouth to tell him where he can shove it, when—

"Back the fuck up." Jordan seems to materialize at your side, suddenly almost a foot taller in their male form, glower plastered to their face. Rufus' smug expression drops, definitely not prepared to go head to head with the second ranked supe at God U.

"Yeah, whatever." Rufus scoffs, dropping your arm and practically high-tailing it away, leaving you rubbing at the spot on your arm where he was holding you.

Once he's gone, Jordan turns back to you, peering down at you with crossed arms. "You good?" Their dark eyes search yours, and you roll your eyes dramatically in response.

"Oh, so now you're not ignoring me?" They look taken aback, and you take the opportunity to plant your hands on your hips.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I was busy."

You scoff. "Too busy to check your phone?"

"Whatever." They turn to walk away, and you can't help yourself from opening your mouth again.

"I didn't need your help, by the way. I was handling that just fine."

They stop, facing you again and folding their arms together, one dark eyebrow quirked. "Sure you were."

"I was! I didn't need you to swoop in, Number Two. I'm not some civilian in distress."

"Yeah, well, you're lucky he didn't get into your head and fuck with it."

"Oh, please. If he'd even tried I would have blasted his ass all the way to the Vought-A-Burger." At that, you spot their mouth curl up at the edges, a sight that makes warmth fill your stomach.

Just as they open their mouth again, their dark eyes land on something behind you and their mouth clamps shut. You spin to find Emma and Marie approaching, the two women glancing between you and Jordan and you can practically smell the avalanche of teasing you're about to endure.

"I'll text you." Jordan nods as they practically spin on their heel and disappear, and you purse your lips together just as Emma appears in front of you, jaw dropped in a dramatic expression as she turns to watch Jordan leave.

"They'll 'text you'?" Marie quotes, eyes wide, and you roll your eyes.

"For an assignment from Brink. Seriously, quit it. It's not what you think." Right as you're in the middle of scolding her for her assumption, your phone pings, and when you glance at the lit-up screen, a text from Jordan awaits you —

Lunch tomorrow?

Your lips twist into a smile before you can help it and right as you realize your mistake your phone is snatched out of your hand. Emma gasps, turning the phone towards Marie whose eyes light up as she reads the text on the screen.

"You liiiiike them, you wanna kiiiiiiss them." Emma teases, her voice lilting in a sing-song tone, and you snatch your phone back out of her hand.

"What are you, twelve?" You roll your eyes, but there's definitely a flush rising to your cheeks, one that neither of your friends lets go unnoticed.

"I knew this was going to happen, I just didn't think it would be so soon." Marie comments, and you groan, knowing the two of them are never going to let this go.

Lunch the next day does not go as planned.

Brink, at the last minute, decides to tag along and 'listen in' to your brainstorming session, nullifying the brief camaraderie sparked between you and Jordan the day before. Sitting opposite them in an empty classroom, going over details for the fundraiser, it’s been nothing but tension from the start — you figure that their switch up in attitude it due to their role as Brink's TA, their competitiveness just can't let things be.

“I think a good idea could be a silent auction. Maybe we could get some of the alumni to donate—” You begin, but Jordan cuts you off with a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at them across the room.

“Silent auctions are so overdone. We need something newer, something more exciting for the donors.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your gaze fixed on them. “Silent auctions bring in a lot of money, which is kind of the point. And it’s not about excitement, it’s about class.”

Jordan smirks. “Class doesn’t have to be boring.”

The tension is palpable, and Brink’s eyes dart between the two of you, clearly amused by the back-and-forth. “Why don’t you both try to combine your ideas? Maybe add something 'exciting' to the silent auction?”

“Fine,” You say through gritted teeth, glaring at Jordan. “How about... We let people bid on experiences instead of items? Like a day with a famous supe, or… A tour of a Vought movie set.” 

Jordan nods slowly, almost as if they’re surprised by the suggestion. “That could work…”

You share a brief, almost reluctant, moment of agreement before the tension returns, both of you battling for Brink’s approval over the smaller details still left to work out.

A week later, the day of the fundraiser finally arrives, and you find yourself swept away in organizing the final details right up until the event begins. The halls of Godolkin are flooded by well-dressed snobs, both supe and human alike, and you lose yourself amongst the crowd, ensuring everything runs as smoothly as possible.

You find yourself in an outfit entirely out of your comfort zone, both fitting the upscale theming of the event, as well as highlighting your best features. You can thank Emma and Marie for this one — they'd practically squealed when you'd tried it on, insisting you buy it. You’ve received more than a few compliments, but the one person whose approval you’re secretly hoping for has also been lost to the crowd, and you haven't managed to spot them yet.

You finally find a moment to duck out as Brinkerhoff takes over and starts the auction, and you find yourself slipping outside, needing a moment to breathe after the chaos. The cool night air is a welcome relief, and you lean against the brick wall to catch your breath.

There's a shift in the atmosphere, the subtle awareness that comes when someone’s eyes are on you. You turn your head and your eyes fall on Jordan, standing near the entrance, their dark gaze locked on you.

For the barest of moments, they remain frozen, eyes widened slightly — your heart stutters a beat when you notice the way they're taking in the sight of you, something dark and admiring in their gaze.

A flush of warmth spreads through you like wildfire, paired with a simmering satisfaction at knowing that you've caught the untouchable Jordan Li off guard, and even rendered them speechless. They make a quick recovery, but the way they begin to approach you feels — different. Changed.

"You... You look good." They swallow, nodding as they approach you, and your lips twist into a smile at their awkwardness. You can't blame them, though, as your mouth dries out when you get a good look at them in a tailored suit, dark and figure-hugging, with a dangerous plunge in the front.

“You too." You nod, attempting and failing to recover smoothly. "Came to gloat?" It's easier to slip into your well-worn rivalry, and after Brink celebrated Jordan in front of most of the party earlier tonight, you figured they'd be feeling rather smug about finally winning over you in a way that mattered.

“Actually, no.” They say, gaze falling to the floor, voice unusually soft. "I don't think that was fair — and also, to say, well. Thank you. This went off without a hitch, and... That's because of you. It's been... Good to work with you."

You blink, entirely taken aback by the compliment. “I mean, we both made it happen,” You admit, glancing at them. “You had some good ideas too.” You throw in a tease at the end, for good measure.

They huff out a laugh, their gaze coming back up to meet yours, an unexpected intensity there, before they take a casual step closer. “You always have to get the last word in, don't you?"

"Someone's gotta keep you humble." You retort, cheeks flushing as they step even closer, and they roll their eyes dramatically.

"If you would just listen for a moment..." Another step, and your breath hitches entirely. "I've enjoyed spending time with you. Even if you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

Despite the rising intensity between you, you find yourself retorting anyway. "I'm a pain in the ass? What about all the times you—" They raise an eyebrow, and your brain seems to finally catch up, noting that they are now standing barely two feet in front of you.

“Christ, rookie, you ever gonna let me finish?” Jordan curses, eyebrow raised, stepping even closer into your space, and your breath hitches as you fully catch on.

“Oh- oh.”

“Oh.” They mimic, dragging their hand up your side to rest on your hip.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” Their voice is barely more than a whisper as they lean in, and you nod, unwilling to risk ruining this. "Yes, you're a pain in the ass," They mutter, their voice low. "But I've been an idiot as well."

"How so?" You utter, heart still stuttering in your chest as you glance between their eyes and their lips. Your line of sight doesn't go unnoticed, and Jordan's lips tug into a knowing smirk.

Jordan's dark eyes drop to the ground for a moment, smirk dropping as they tuck a strand of hair behind their ear. “I think I’ve been using this... Rivalry, or whatever, as an excuse to keep my distance from you."

At this, your brows furrow, still intensely aware of their hand on your hip and your proximity to each other, but their words confuse you. "Why do you need an excuse to keep your distance from me?"

A scoff from their lips. "Jesus, you are gonna make me spell it out. Well... Because I wasn’t sure how to deal with how I feel about you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits. “How you feel about me?”

Jordan nods, their expression softening. "I've never liked someone this much, and you act like you wish I would drop off the face of the planet half the time, and.... Well, it’s been driving me crazy..”

You stare at them, trying to process what you’ve just heard. You can practically hear Marie and Emma screaming in your ear "I told you so!", after you've spent your whole time at Godolkin pining for someone you thought you'd never have a chance with, only to prove they've been doing the same thing.

“We're both fucking idiots." You confirm, a breathy laugh escaping your lips, your hand coming up to hover in front of your mouth incredulously.

Jordan chuckles, the sound light and genuine, their eyebrows raising as they take in your reaction. “Does this mean you don't actually hate —”

Before they can finish, you close the narrow distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as your lips seal against theirs. It’s excited and awkward and tentative at first, but when Jordan responds by deepening the kiss, the tension between you melts away and you find yourself wrapping your arms around their neck, pressing your body into them as months of heated exchanges come to a culmination.

When you finally pull back for breath, the two of you panting softly, still enveloped in each other's arms, you let out a soft laugh that Jordan echoes.

“Guess we were both wrong.” They utter, leaning down to seal their lips against yours again briefly, their eyes shining with something new, something real. “And I guess this was a good time for me to have been wrong for the first time ever.”

You laugh out loud, shoving at their shoulder, feeling weightless in this moment.

Your phone pings in your pocket, and you sigh, reluctantly pulling it from a hidden pocket in your outfit — believe it or not, you're still technically at your job, and if Brink needs you, you need to be available. "Sorry." You utter to Jordan, before opening the text you'd received and gasping.

"Motherfucker!" Your head whips around to glare into the darkness, bright screen of your phone illuminated by a blurry photo of you and Jordan mid-kiss, sent by Marie in your groupchat.

The text underneath from Emma reads simply,

'Called it!'

[lilyswritings]

shamelessly throwing this back out into the void now that season three is out !

heatwave.

synopsis:the oppressive summer heat evolves into a lovely lazy morning with your boyfriend.

author’s note:i’m in love with him and the heat this summer has been unbearable (see what i did there…) so this happened. hope you enjoy!! <— this was the original note i put here when i wrote this in july, and i only just rediscovered this piece! it’s getting cold now, but i didn’t want that to stop you all from basking in some carmen tenderness, so… enjoy?

wordcount:758 (just a short one!)

Carmen Berzatto x Reader

      You love Chicago. You love the energy of the city, the hustle and bustle of everything happening all at once, the soundtrack of other people living their lives playing in the background at all times. You love your boyfriend, and his messy curls, and big strong arms and hands. 

      However, on this particular balmy hot July morning, you find yourself despising all of the above as your apartment seems to be turning into an oven and your boyfriend’s chest is radiating heat directly behind you, any skin on skin contact becoming a searing discomfort. 

      Your breaking point is when he slings an arm over your torso and attempts to pull you close to him, and you respond in turn by groaning and flinging his arm away from you, scooting towards the edge of the bed. 

Keep reading

[lilyswritings]

tumblr absolutely hates my guts it seems and broke my taglist, so i'm reposting it here with the proper tag list attached below !

tag list: @casualcolorstarfish // @phereinnike // @fangeekkk // @frui7juic3 // @dcpcnxx //

@dude-whatawave // @catharticchaos // @hyunnielix // @magical-fandoms-blog // @andyquhyn //

@minniestudies13-blog​ // @slithersin // @barzalseguin // @deanilostmyshoe-blog // @pastel-aesthetc //

@kaylinfayezink // @longlivethefatcatqueen // @sleepycolumnist ​// @colors-for-the-world-please // @milkybuun //

@wherearemysock // @writemymemoir​ // @tokyren // @asix122747483 // @adoringinsanity //

@hoeneyhoeney // @dopepersonacloudllama // @coldspoons​ // @zelzablues // @itsrockannelove //

@getawayferrari // @agent-jbarnes // @h0nkch0c0late // @crystalsoobin-m // @seninjakitey //

@14thgalerie // @frostooo // @diansaprince

( if your name isn't here and it should be it’s because i was unable to tag you ! )

fate — xix

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: thank you all for still being here!! your passion for this series has really kept me going, and i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you who's still here. i am still following closely to the show, but as we are swiftly approaching the end of the tv show (ruh roh!) i will be making some changes. without further ado, please enjoy part nineteen!

wordcount: 2,819

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix || part xx

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

"Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. "Ew! You and... Both of them? EW!" You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

"In my room?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

"It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God, if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

"Whatever, Mom." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you."

Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

"Oh, Marcus..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

Speaking of... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together.

"You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

"Not one bit," You shake your head, eyes wide. "Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

"What, all of them? Like, at once?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

"If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private."

You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

"You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

"Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

"I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

"Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

"His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

"Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

"He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything. He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

"Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

"What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

"Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

"Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

"We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

"I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

"No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

"I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

"Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

"Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

"I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

"We need to talk." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma, and we need your help."

Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

"We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word 'we' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

"Fine. I'll help." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

"Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry, Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want—"

You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

"My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened."

Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could."

Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out."

You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.

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[lilyswritings]

fate — xix

synopsis: Keep your head down, focus on getting through your classes, and try not to die. That had always been your plan of attack when it comes to attending Kings Dominion School of the Deadly Arts. But your life plans get thrown out the window as you find yourself growing attached to the new kid who refuses to lose his compassion and moral code, despite the ruthless curriculum and vicious social cliques he finds himself surrounded by.

author’s note: thank you all for still being here!! your passion for this series has really kept me going, and i sincerely appreciate each and every one of you who's still here. i am still following closely to the show, but as we are swiftly approaching the end of the tv show (ruh roh!) i will be making some changes. without further ado, please enjoy part nineteen!

wordcount: 2,819

part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || part vii || part viii || part ix || part x || part xi || part xii || part xiii || part xiv || part xv || part xvi || part xvii || part xviii || part xix || part xx

Marcus Lopez Arguello x Reader

     The dorm room is dead silent as you gape blankly at Petra. "No. Fucking. Way." You stare in horror at your roommate, mouth hung open as you attempt to process the slew of graphic information she just threw in your face. In response to your sheer outrage, she simply shrugs, black-painted lips turning up at the corners at the aghast expression on your face.

"Ew," You gasp, eyebrows furrowing as it seeps in, your eyes darting between your roommate, the sheets on your bed, to the chair in the corner, back to your roommate. "Ew! You and... Both of them? EW!" You stand up abruptly from your bed, eyes scanning the bedding below you in panic.

Petra's eyes twinkle with delight at your reaction to her news of what had gone down during the lockdown, when Lex, Billy and her, had been mere moments away from partaking in a three-way in your very room. While it hadn't gone very far, the sheer idea of something like that happening between your three closest friends, in your room, makes your skin crawl.

"In my room?" You exclaim, still processing, and she laughs.

"It's my room too. And we didn't do anything on your side... I don't think." She shrugs again, ducking away from the pillow you hurl at her.

You point a finger at her, mouth still agape at the very idea of anything like that happening on or around your personal belongings. "Petra Katja Yolga, I swear to God, if you ever have sex on my side of the room—"

"Whatever, Mom." She sighs, flipping you a middle finger, before her expression turns sly and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Besides, I feel like if either of us are in danger of participating in activities of the coital nature in this room, it's you."

Your jaw drops, cheeks blazing at the insinuation. "Shut up." You mutter, unable to form a cohesive comeback, and your heated cheeks and lack of retort just fuel Petra's fire, causing her eyes to twinkle mischievously as she plops down on the edge of your bed.

"Oh, Marcus..." She fakes a breathy gasp, falling back into the pillows, and before she has a chance to tease you further, you whirl around and exit the room as fast as your feet can take you, eyes wide with mortification as the sound of Petra's laughter follows you down the corridor.

Speaking of... You will the flush in your face to dissipate as Marcus turns the corner at the end of the corridor, dark eyes immediately seeking you out. "Hey." He smiles softly at you, and you reciprocate, heart swooping at the mere sight of his smile. Jesus, you need to get it together.

"You okay?" He takes in your flushed expression with furrowed brows and you bite back a laugh.

"Not one bit," You shake your head, eyes wide. "Apparently my three best friends almost slept with each other last night... In my room."

"What, all of them? Like, at once?" Marcus' tone is incredulous and you nod, pleased he seems as baffled by it all as you are, but then he ruins it. "Good for them."

You frown, smacking his shoulder lightly. "No, not good for them! My friends! In my room!"

He huffs out a laugh at your outrage, and it's only them that you notice there's a tension in his expression, a hardened look in his dark eyes that gives you pause. "Hey, what's up?"

Marcus makes a face, obviously not having intended on talking about it. "It's nothing, I just... I just got out of AP Black Arts and had it out with Master Lin. It's nothing serious, though, promise." At this, he slides his hand down one of your forearms, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer to him.

Your brows shoot up, cheeks heating back up at the sudden proximity as you gaze up at him through your lashes. "If the monks catch us like this..." Your words trail off as he dips his head to seal his lips to yours, the kiss causing you to forget any protest you might have once had. Before you know it. his hands are on your waist and you're gripping at the lapels of his uniform, the world beyond the two of you lost to oblivion for all you care. You can hear Petra's voice in your head, cackling, but you shove it away, relishing in the kiss.

"If you're worried about the monks," He whispers as he pulls away, dark eyes glittering with mischief. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private."

You very nearly go along with it too, the air simmering between the two of you in the darkened hallway, but you remember why you were going to seek him out in the first place, and step back to give yourself some space to think — something you have proven to be unable to do at such close proximity to him.

"You —" You brush your hands over the lapels of his uniform, straightening the creases you didn't realize you'd made. "Have a shift at the comics store, if I remember correctly." He curses immediately at the reminder, groaning, and you smirk.

"Come with me." He proposes, hand sneaking back onto your waist, and you raise your eyebrows at how bold he's become — but then an apologetic look sneaks into his features, his brown eyes widening with a plea. "Plus, you sort of need to be there, Saya wanted to call a Vegas Crew gathering."

You feel the romance dissipate from the air just like that, a crushing reminder of the psychopathic killer at large and the incredible danger you all live in swooping in to ruin the mood. "Right. Smart." You nod, running a hand through your hair, and Marcus sighs.

"I was going to go change, do you want to come wait in the room?" You raise your eyebrows at his words and he laughs, hands held up in surrender. "No funny business, I swear." You roll your eyes, but nod anyway, biting your lip at the kiss he presses to your cheek as you follow him to his room.

Before long, the two of you head to the comic store together, only waiting a little while before Saya, Billy, and Willie all show up too.

The black and white photos Saya has sprawled on the counter make you shudder, taking in the horrors of what Fuckface has done to Shabnam's house.

"Jesus," Marcus finally speaks up, voicing your thoughts. "Is that Shabnam's dad?" He holds out a photo and you grimace at the image before you.

"His mom's probably in there as well." Billy says, and your frown deepens, causing him to pat you on the back with a less-than-convincing smile of reassurance. "All the more reason we have to do this now."

"Shabnam's house is rigged with traps," Saya explains, pointing them out on the photos. "Chester has seven to eight people inside, helping him."

You pause from gnawing on your thumbnail to look up at Saya. "Are we sure he has Chico?"

"He's not bluffing," Saya sighs. "He knows everything. He has to be getting information from someone inside of King's."

"Shabnam's parents." Marcus fills in, and you nod along, brows furrowed.

"What's stopping him from just..." You swallow thickly. "Sending Chico's head to El Diablo? If he finds out that it was Maria... That we were there..." It's hard to repress the shudder that wracks your body at the mere thought of that.

Marcus' hand appears on top of yours, dark eyes seeking out yours in an attempt at reassurance. "We're gonna need some serious firepower." He sighs, turning back to the group, and you nod. "Guns, explosives—"

"Y'all must be out your damn minds." Willie's voice cuts him off, and when you look up you notice him glowering at all of you, his arms folded over his chest. His eyes meet yours, and your brows tug together, before he scoffs and turns to leave the store.

"Wait, Willie—" You go to follow him, but Marcus puts a hand on your arm and gets up, exiting the store behind his friend. As soon as they both leave, you turn back to Saya and Billy, sighing deeply and sitting in Marcus' empty chair.

"We have to talk to Maria." You say, knowing full well it isn't what Saya wants to hear, and she grimaces but doesn't argue with you. There's a long silence that follows, where all three of you are inevitably picturing the various awful ways that conversation will go, before you finally let out a deep breath.

"I'll do it." You volunteer, causing both of your friends to glance up at you sharply.

"No offence," Billy starts, glancing between you and Saya. "But I think you're probably the last person she wants to talk to right now."

"I'm well aware," You shoot him a glare. "But she has to know what's going on. And I have to try to... To fix this." You know it's probably impossible, that this might be a death wish, but you have to try. You owe it to her to try.

"Tell Marcus where I've gone, okay?" You look to Saya, and she nods, one dark eyebrow arched at your plan. "I'll fill in on the rest of this later, but... I have to do this."

When you arrive back at King's, you forge a note from Juan to Maria, asking her to meet in the girl's bathroom, before slipping it under her door and running to the bathroom to lie in wait.

You are well aware that this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done, but you have run completely out of other options. As you sit in the darkened girls bathroom, you take a moment to fully wonder where the fuck your life went so wrong that you are now in a bathroom, preparing to trap the leader of the Soto Vatos and el Alma del Diablo's pet assassin, in order to have a heart-to-heart.

You are not given enough time to fully delve into those thoughts, thankfully, as the door begins to creak open and you spy Maria's shoes from the crack under the door.

"Meeting in the girl's bathroom is a new low, Juan." Maria calls out in Spanish, and you grimace as you swing the door shut and plant yourself in front of it, revealing your ruse to her.

She wheels around with her fan poised in front of her, expression morphing from one of surprise into rageful apprehension, and you throw your hands up placatingly.

"I know how this looks, and I'm sorry, I just really need you to hear me out and I knew you would never agree to talk with me." Your words tumble into each other in their haste to leave your mouth, and you sigh deeply before oh-so-slowly pulling open your blazer to show her the lack of knives tucked into the lining.

Coming unarmed to this might have been a suicidal move, but you know it's the only way to get her to listen to you.

Her dark eyes narrow, scanning your body, and you nod. "None in the boots, either." You answer before she even gets the chance to ask, slowly rolling your ankle around to show off the lack of metallic glinting.

"We need to talk." It's a cheeky thing to say as you stand in between her and the only exit, but you need her to agree not to kill you before you launch into anything — and you would really like it if this continued as a semi-normal conversation between two teenage friends, despite it all.

Maria doesn't lower her fan, but she doesn't run to attack you, either, so you take a deep breath and launch into it. "We've been doing reconnaissance on Fuckface, and it looks like he's holing up at Shabnam's house. We need to deal with him before he decides to send Chico's head to El Alma, and we need your help."

Her eyes widen as you talk, obviously as displeased by this update as you were, and you swallow thickly. "We need you, Maria. We have to end this. You killed Chico to save Marcus... Now we have to kill Chester to do the same. And save the rest of us, while we're at it."

Bringing up Marcus is a dicey move, and her eyes narrow at his name, but she finally tucks her fan away and sighs. "When?" She asks, and you sigh in relief, lowering your hands.

"We don't know. Soon. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. We didn't come up with a full plan before I left, but... It has to be now." The word 'we' obviously holds the implications of the Vegas Crew, and you watch her expression twinge at the mention of the group.

"Fine. I'll help." She says, eyes still glued to the ground. "Send a message when you make the plan." She moves to leave the bathroom, but you hold your position blocking the door, and her eyes narrow.

"Move." She orders, dark eyes narrowed, and you shake your head slowly, summoning the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry."

Your words hang heavy in the silence of the bathroom, and her expression morphs into one of heartbroken anger, but you push through. "I'm so sorry, Maria. It was never meant to happen like this, I didn't want—"

You're embarrassed by the sting of hot tears that press behind your eyelids, and you watch her drop her gaze to the ground, fists clenched tightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

"My heart has belonged to him since that first night on the roof, Maria. You have to know that." You plead, stoic in your efforts for her to comprehend how out of control you've felt this whole time. "With everything that we've been through, you have to understand that I didn't choose this. It just... Happened."

Her eyes never leave the ground, folded arms pressing tighter against her chest as she scuffs the toe of her shoe against the floor. "I know." She whispers, and you take a breath, watching her expression.

The dimly lit room is filled with tension, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. You've just ripped the curtains back and bared your soul to Maria, and now the ball remains firmly in her court. Her silence hangs in the room, stifling any hope for reconciliation.

Seconds turn to minutes as you both stand there, locked in a moment of profound uncertainty. Maria's hair falls over her face, obscuring her eyes as she continues to avoid your gaze. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, weighing the years of shared secrets and experiences against this revelation.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "I know," Maria repeats, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "I've always known. I'm not an idiot. I see it in the way you look at him, the way you two..." She sighs again, dark eyes boring holes into the linoleum tile below her. Her words are sharp, filled with a sense of betrayal.

You nod, the weight of your confession still bearing down on you. "But I never wanted it to be like this, Maria. I never wanted to hurt you."

Maria finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours with a cold, unyielding glare. "You should have thought about that before you let it happen," she hisses. "I can't believe you would let me... You let me get my heart broken."

You take a step closer to her, reaching out to gently touch her arm, but she pulls away, her expression hardening. "Maria..." Your chest feels wounded, the sharpness in her eyes driving daggers into your heart. "I love you. I always will. But I can't change how I feel about him." Hot tears begin to fill your eyes as you shake your head fervently. "I wish I could."

Those words ring the truest for the both of you, and you both know it. Your shared love for this boy has caused boundless issues, invited danger and darkness into your lives, and yet as the bond between the two of you breaks in front of your eyes, you can share in the same hopeless adoration of the same idiotic man.

Tears well up in Maria's eyes, and this time, she lets them flow freely. "That isn't enough..." she says, her voice trembling with anger. "I need time. I need to figure this out."

You nod, feeling the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you, and she spares you one last cold glance before she swipes the tears from her face and storms out of the bathroom. The future is uncertain, but it seems clear to you now that your friendship has been irreparably damaged.

[lilyswritings]

When is your Deadly Class part coming out? Or did you discontinue it??? :(

i have not discontinued it, i promise! i can't give you an exact estimate but i am in the final stages of finishing the next part, so... soon!

i just don't want to make any false promises, i hope you understand!

thank you for your continued interest! i really appreciate all of your support over the years!

[lilyswritings]

Hey! Haven’t heard anything from you in a while, hope your doing well! Just wanted to come up here to say that I miss you and your work and hopefully I get to hear about any life updates of yours to see what exciting things you’ve been up to during your hiatus.

this is ridiculously sweet, thank you dear anon!

it's been a very busy few years for me, i just did a study abroad in greece, and i'm approaching my final year of art school!

this summer i'm really hoping to get back into writing and be posting more, but i don't want to make any empty promises or get anyone's hopes up — just know i have not abandoned this blog, nor do i plan to!

thank you again for such a sweet message <3