#//but the novel just fell flat on its face

[r3dblccd]

Not gonna lie, The Trial by Kafka is one of the most boring shit I've ever read.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: sometimes all you need is a beach walk

pairing: avery grambs x jameson hawthorne

synopsis: avery is getting herself overwhelmed with her workload but jameson knows exactly how to help

warnings:

a/n: this is for the goddess that is avery kylie grambs, happy birthday <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @notshortbutsweet @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

I sighed, my head thumping. It had actually been pounding for three hours and despite the two aspirin and three empty glasses of water nothing had helped or even remotely soothed it. But I needed to get my work done, I was too determined not to. I scribbled down notes feverishly, my hand cramping more with each stupid letter.

“What is something no one wants, but no one wants to lose.”

The voice made me jump before I realised who it was. I relaxed my hand for moment, secretly thankful for the untimely interruption, as I registered the words that had been said. It was a riddle.

“Come out Hawthorne,” I called with a smile, lifting up my head and looking around to see where he might be hiding. I knew all the passageways and trapdoors that lead to this room, though they all seemed untampered with. I furrowed my brows in confusion trying to work it out. Where was his voice coming from?

“Not until you give the answer, heiress,” he replied, I could practically hear the smile coating his tone.

I sighed, “a lawsuit.”

Jameson reluctantly emerged from the wall opposite my desk. I contained the surprise from bleeding out into my features, giving me away. I hadn’t known there’d been a passage there. He sauntered forwards, hands in his pockets, so laid back he was nearly horizontal.

“New secret passageway?” I raised a questioning eyebrow.

He nodded, “discovered it this morning and wanted to scare you with it.”

“It didn’t work,” I said coolly.

“Oh really?” he muses, “because I distinctly remember seeing you jump out of your skins just now, heiress.”

“I was trying to entertain your poor attempt to scare me is all,” I replied with a shrug.

“Oh is that it?” he grinned.

“Mhmm,” I hummed in response before standing up and walking over to him, “you were going easy on me.”

“I wasn’t,” he shook his head.

“Oh then you should probably think of a harder riddle next time,” I teased.

“Feeling cocky?” he asked tipping his head to the side.

“Don’t panic no one could ever get as cocky as you,” I winked, “in case you were worried.”

“Well you’ve put my mind at ease,” he flashed a grin, kissing me on the cheek.

My face flushed a deep scarlet. I didn’t know how he still managed to make me blush like this. He just did. His grin widened when he noticed the colour tint to my cheeks and he kissed me again, causing me to turn an even deeper shade of red.

“I’ve been told I have that kind of effect on people,” I replied, looking up at him doe-eyed.

He stared at me, like he was taking in every intricacy of my face, drinking in every detail. It was as if nothing else around me existed in that moment, like I was the only thing that was worth looking at. It made my heart swell to nearly triple its size within a matter of seconds.

“You look exhausted,” he finally said after a long pause.

My face fell flat.

“Thanks,” I quipped sarcastically

“No seriously Ave,” he murmured cupping my face in his hands, “you look tired, how long have you been at this?”

His eyed a paper, dropped his hands and began running his finger down the contents, silently analysing my task.

“Only a little while,” I replied with a soft shrug.

“How long is a little while?” he asked.

I hesitated, “not that long.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he almost laughed, brushing loose hairs from my face and tucking them behind my ears.

“Damn you Jamie,” I murmured.

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to read,” he shrugged.

I sighed sitting back down in the office chair, my back aching to remind me that I should really talk a walk around rather than to more work, “I need to do this.”

“You need to take a break,” he countered, taking my pen from my hand.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed another, “I’m fine.”

“You’re tense,” Jameson replied simply.

“I’m not tense,” I snapped, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, proving his point, much to my annoyance, “don’t be stubborn heiress, you and I both know you need a rest.”

“I took a break half an hour ago,” I lied through my teeth.

He let it slide this time, “take another.”

“If I take breaks every half hour I’ll never get anything done,” I exhaled, scanning over my next paper.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself Avery,” he said gently, “come on, let’s go somewhere, anywhere you want, you name it and I’ll take you.”

I looked up at him blankly, “this office.”

He sighed.

“I have work to do,” I replied, “I’m sorry,”

“Work can wait,” he protested.

“This work can’t,” I raised my voice a little, standing up.

“I’ll hire a whole team of people to do it for you,” he said, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“I need to do it Jameson,” I replied sharply, giving him a stubborn look that he couldn’t ignore.

He brushed last me softly and picked up a few papers, turning them over and scanning the information. He surveyed nearly everything on the desk. Taking a step back, I realised what a mess it all was.

“I can’t believe Alisa let you take all of this,” he muttered, “Avery this is days worth of work, hell maybe even a weeks worth.”

“She doesn’t know,” I said quietly.

“No wonder,” he murmured, “she would have you murdered if she knew you were attempting all of this.”

“It’s not that much,” I reasoned, “…I have responsibilities Jameson.”

“And one of those responsibilities is your health,” he told me, a firm expression on his face, “so you’re going to leave this all now and come with me for a bit.”

I shook my head vigorously, “I can’t-“

“Oh no I’m not taking no for an answer,” he smirked, “and we all know how stubborn I can be.”

“Not as stubborn as me,” I stuck my tongue out, arms firmly folded across my chest.

He flashed a grin of mischief, “we’ll see heiress, we’ll see.”

I felt his arm wrap around my waist, making my stomach flutter. His other arm swept my feet off of the floor and I lost all sense of balance. Fear seizes my heart for a fraction of a second and adrenaline courses through my veins. My arms instinctively clasped around Jameson’s neck.

“What are you doing?” I yelled, my heart still thumping.

“Carrying you away,” he replied bluntly.

“Put me down,” I grumbled, kicking my feet. A fruitless attempt at breaking free.

“No can do, heiress,” he grinned with a wink.

“Jameson I’m serious, I actually have to-“

“If you say the word work one more time I will tickle you,” he said, pressing his forehead onto mine.

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered biting back a smile.

“Oh I’m dead serious,” he replied darkly.

I glared at him playfully, “I hate you.”

“Nu-uh you love me,” Jameson shook his head, “you said so yourself.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “when?”

“Just this morning,” he said, a smug sort of look in his emerald eyes.

“I must’ve been delirious,” I joked.

He beamed, before putting me down gently. Secretly I wished he hadn’t, I liked being in his arms. It made me feel protected. But I didn’t say anything. He swiftly handed me a pair of shoes and I stared down at them.

“We’re going on a walk,” Jameson declared.

“A walk?” I questioned.

“A walk,” he confirmed, with a lopsided smile.

“Come on Jameson I’m not playing games,” I rolled my eyes.

He shrugged, “well I am.”

“Please,” I begged, “I actually have things to do.”

He pushed the shoes further into my hands, “walk.”

I groaned reluctantly pulling them on, scowling at him the whole time. He only chuckled at my annoyance and aggravation so I purposefully tied the laces as slowly as possible.

“Come on,” Jameson said, when he noticed, “or I’ll carry you again.”

I shot him a look as I stepped outside. Fresh air hit my lungs. I’d forgotten how much I loved the taste. I drank in all I could then exhaled. I wanted a clear head. Sometimes I didn’t realise how busy my mind is until I forced it to relax. I hated to admit it but I really needed this.

Slowly, we began to walk down the pathway. Jameson interlocked his hand with mine, his fingers fitting perfectly as always. There was something about holding his hand that automatically comforted me. I couldn’t explain it. It was as if some sort of wave had washed away all that was bad, all that scared me. Besides his hands were always warm, mine were always freezing.

We walked in complete silence and it was pure bliss. The silence was everything I needed, this peace, this break, this moment of nothingness. My mind was finally free to just be. I didn’t have the pressure of thinking or feeling or doing.

He knew me too well.

Better than I knew myself. Before I knew it we found ourselves at the beach. Well, I found myself at the beach, Jameson had probably lead us here. In my absence of thought, I’d almost blanked the entire scenery on the way there, so I’d only realised we’d reached the beach when it smelt like the sea. I glanced at Jameson smiling, he knew how much I adored the beach.

“Want to go onto the beach?” he asked.

“Is that even a question?” I scoffed, barely containing my excitement.

“Just checking,” he winked

Despite the night coming in swiftly and the grey clouds tumbling over each other in the solemn sky, it felt so perfect. I broke off into a sprint towards the sea, running straight into it after discarding my shoes and socks. The water is piercingly freezing, so much so I hopped back a little. I crashed into Jameson who I hadn’t realised had followed me into the sea.

The ocean’s salty spray jumped up and licked my cheeks. My face broke out into an infectious smile that Jameson caught. He put his hands on my waist, lifted me off of the floor and spun me around as if I were in some sort of romance movie.

“I love you, heiress,” Jameson smiled as he put me down.

“Not as much as I love you,” I replied, tapping the tip of his nose with my finger.

I tipped my head back and laughed, stumbling into him after losing my footing. He caught me, as he always does. Then Jameson leant down and slowly kissed my lips. The motion was so long and drawn out I could’ve sworn it last eternity and three seconds all at the same time. He gently took my rosy face into his warm hands, kissing my icy lips again. The feeling was addictive, I craved more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened our kiss.

I’d never wanted something so badly in my entire life. He’d become my only desire. His lips were soft and silky, warm on mine. He tasted indescribably good. We broke away for breath, two beaming idiots.

I placed two tentative hands on his chest and stared at him, my eyes all wide and sparkling. Then I pushed him sharply, my tender expression replaced with the mischievous grin he taught me to use. Before he can comprehend what I’ve done he had already hit the water with a splash.

“You’re so dead, heiress,” he warned, standing up, prepared to go into a water war.

“Not if you can’t catch me,” I stuck my tongue out, taking off down the beach.

“You’re on!” Jameson yelled, beginning to chase me.

I laughed freely, adrenaline pumping through my body. I ran, the wind whistling through my ears and blowing through my hair. My chest grew more painful with every laboured breath and heartbeat but I didn’t stop running. I felt a pair of familiar arms grab my waist and yank me off of the floor.

“Ahhhh Jamie!” I screamed as he flipped me over his shoulder.

“I think I got you,” he said, I could imagine a smirk playing on his features.

“Put me down!” I yelled, pounding my fists on his back.

“Okay then,” he grinned, dropping me into the water.

I landed with a splash and the salty sea soaked through my clothes.

“Hey! That is not what I meant,” I grinned, standing back up arms folded.

“You said ‘put me down’ and I did just that,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes playfully, “okay then smartass.”

He took my hand and led me back onto the sand. Jameson sat down and pulled me down gently between his legs. I rested back into his chest. My teeth chattered and arms shook as the cold air whipped around our sopping bodies. Pushing Jameson into the sea may not have been the smartest idea, though I thought it was worth it.

“Here,” he said, shedding his jumper.

“Put that back on,” I scolded, “you’re going to get pneumonia.”

“Been there, done that,” he shrugged.

“And you don’t want to do it again, put your jumper on,” I exhaled.

“You sound like Oren,” Jameson chuckled.

“I don’t care,” I snapped, “I don’t want you to freeze.”

“Come on Avery, just take it,” he said, “you know you’re cold, I know you’re cold, so let’s just be smart about this here.”

I sighed, taking it from him, “fine but if you get some sort of illness tomorrow I’m blaming myself and you can’t tell me not to.”

“Deal,” he shrugged.

I slowly slipped the jumper on before he wrapped his arms right around me tightly. I felt safe. I could smell the sweet scent of his cologne. The one that was practically a drug to me now. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, his soft skin against mine.

I leant back and our eyes locked. He looked a little hesitant before the word left his lips, “tahiti,” he whispered.

One word. Our word. It sent a shiver down my spine. A mixture of relief and fear hit my stomach. I was waiting for him to say it. I’d had my explanation prepared but now I struggled to explain what was going on inside of my head. I blinked a few times and tried to form the right words.

“I’m stressed, like really stressed and overwhelmed with everything I have to do,” I just blurted out, “I can’t cope, there’s too much to do with too little time to do it in.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, “it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t feel okay,” I said, feeling an uncomfortable lump begin to grow in my throat, “nothing about this feels remotely close to okay.”

“Tell me something, heiress,” he replied gently, “the work you’re doing, is it necessary?”

“Of course it’s-“

“Not necessary to you per se,” he clarified, “I mean, is it work you’ve given yourself?”

I remained silent, answering with no words. I liked to feel on top of things, in control. If I gave myself extra little things to do to fill the time it would benefit me in the future, at least that was my philosophy.

“I’ve seen your to do lists,” he said quietly, “you work to hard, give yourself too much to do and you don’t know when to take a break.”

“I just don’t want to fail at this,” I replied, with a shaky voice, “I want to be three steps ahead not eight steps behind.”

“You have never been eight behind Avery Kylie Grambs, not since the moment I met you,” Jameson comforted me, “and you will never be eight steps behind, in all of your life.”

My cheeks flush and it’s not from the icy breeze.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he said thoughtfully, “because you’re a phenomenon. I just wish you would stop worrying so much.”

His words bled straight into my heart, building up in the collection of all the wonderful things he’s ever said to me. It was a wonder I still had space, it surely would’ve burst by now. I felt myself get a little emotional at his words.

“Me too,” I grumbled, “I feel so stupid when I worry.”

“No, not because your worry is stupid,” he said quickly, “your feelings are very valid, but just because I hate to see you so upset.”

���I’ll try to worry less,” I told him.

“Easier said than done,” Jameson pointed out.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed.

“You know you can ask for help?” he asked, “if you do want to get your impossible list finished I’m here, Grayson’s there, Alisa’s there, hell anyone you ask would be there.”

“I don’t want to ask anyone for help,” I shook my head stubbornly, “I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help sometimes,” he broke to me gently.

“Not with paperwork,” I replied, “that’s stupid to ask help for.”

“No it’s not,” he shrugged.

“It’s practically admitting failure,” I said, playing with the hem of his jumper rather than meeting his eye.

“Nu-uh that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, tipping my chin upwards so I’d be forced to look at him.

I didn’t pull away, “how so?”

“Admitting to need help isn’t failing,” he explained.

“It feels like it,” I told him, “I mean I have to physically go up to someone and admit I can’t do it by myself.”

“And why isn’t that perfectly fine?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

I paused, “I don’t know…”

“You’re not built to know everything,” Jameson said, “if you were, you’d be like one of Xand’s creepy robot inventions and no offence but I’d rather not be dating one of those.”

I laughed, then sighed, “you’re right.”

“I know,“ he shot me a lopsided smile.

I rolled my eyes playfully, “alright don’t get too in your own head.”

“But my ego hasn’t swelled up to twice its size yet,” he pouted, green eyes twinkling.

“Suppose that’ll have to be a job for tomorrow,” I joked back.

“Yeah I’ll embarrass Gray and it should do the trick,” he winked.

“Don’t be mean,” I teased.

“I’m not,” he exclaimed, “I’m helping my ego flourish.”

“You and I both know that that does not need to happen,” I replied.

“How about we make a deal,” he said, suddenly changing the subject, looking a little too serious that I was used to from Jameson.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“Me and you have to promise each other that for at least an hour a day we plan an activity that takes our mind off of work and stress and life that we can do together,” he proposed.

“Okay,” I agreed, “yeah, I like that.”

“It can be as simple as taking a walk or as wild as skydiving,” Jameson said.

“We should do that again,” I smiled, remembering our last skydiving escapade for Jameson’s birthday. The photo was pinned to a board in our bedroom, it was one of my favourites.

“I second that, heiress,” he replied.

He kissed my cheek gently and it tickled a little. I giggled as his velvety lips touch my skin.

“I’ve got you no matter what, don’t you forget that,” he whispered in my ear.

I blushed, a flutter coursing through my body.

“I love you Jamie.”

“I love you more Avery.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY QUEEN AVERY!! I LOVE THIS GIRL SO SO SO SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND!! SHE HAS CHANGED MY LIFE 💖💖 AND SHE IS AN ICON, AN IDOL AND I WANT TO BE HER SO BAD!! I MEAN LETS JUST TAKE THIS MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THE CHARACTER THAT SHE IS AND ALL SHE WENT THROUGH!! SO TO THE COOLEST GIRL IN FICTION HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY

and I know what you’re thinking ‘bEllA tHIs FiC HaS NOtHinG tO dO WiTh AVeRy’S bIrThDAy’

I know 😔😔 but I’m literally so bad at writing holiday/occasion themed fics. I tried to write a birthday fic for avery and it literally flopped so badly sooooo you got this instead

hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[booppooo]

abby+fem!reader besties but then an accidental kiss happens and things end up with eye contact and reader getting finger fucked <3

Another Level

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader Headcannons

AN: so well put anon, thank you for this request <3 friends to lovers will always make me froth at the mouth

Warnings: friends to lovers as mentioned, fingering

-

So, you and Abby are in the infamous library you both deem a second home

You're running your fingers across the spines of books, searching for your favorites and gushing over them to each other

Every time Abby pulls something off the shelf and gets into the groove of practically professing her love for the novel, you can't help but get lost in her

Her eyes darting across the pages, strong fingers flipping through the pages, soft lips tugging into a smile

It gave you ample time to study her freckles and the glint in her eye, as well how expansive her pupils might get if you leaned in a little closer

Honestly, you had no intention of giving off how drawn you were to her, she had made it pretty clear to you her eyes were set on men

But then, your chest accidentally brushed against the top of the book, and Abby's stare shot up to meet your face which had magically gotten closer

She went to apologize - a simple sorry - but the last syllable fell flat as a reddish hue colored her cheeks

You would think with her face on fire, the multicolored masterpiece that were her eyes would flicker around the room to avoid your sturdy stare

Much to your surprise (perhaps fear) she kept her gaze sturdy

Then you realized: of course she wouldn't back down! She was a rock solid solider who stared death in the face day in and out, a little awkward encounter wouldn't make her falter

However, it was more than an awkward encounter, because in the time you used to piece everything together, a dense tension made itself welcome

The book found its home back on the shelf, Abby's eyes narrowed and a faint smirk dared to creep across her lips

Now it was your turn to blush and stammer

The next few seconds were blurry at best, consisting of your eyes almost popping from your head and someone profusely apologizing

However, you didn't miss the fact that Abby's lips were indeed on yours

"Watch it!" Abby barked at the bystander who must've shoved her by accident, he cowered out of her sight and from the library

"Are you alright?" You knew how hot headed she could get

She tsked, crossing her arms and leaning against the shelf before her attention was fully on you again

"Fine." In an instant her tone had gone from stern to...nervous?

Then settled back in that tension, heavy and hot

Abby's quick (but not so sly) eyes flashed down to your lips, then she cleared her throat and took another shot at apologizing

"Oh, no you're fine - I'm sure everyone's kissed their best friend before." You tried to keep the mood lighthearted, but the anxious squeak in your voice betrayed you

The part you forgot to mention was that best friends don't get excited when they kiss each other

And not excited in the caught-off-guard way...but below-the-belt way

You tried to pull your head from the gutter, that was until Abby's legs shifted

This normally would go undetected, however, the shift was all to familiar because you had been in this position with Abby countless times and that squeeze of her thighs was telling

So you weren't imagining it all!

"Uh, you just wanna go back to my room?" Her words rung in your ear like a gun firing in a silent forest

"Sure!" You replied, too enthusiastically

You get back to the room, and she locks the door??!!! Pulls the curtains?!!

"Wanna watch a movie?" You query as she busy's herself with some of her items

"We can, you know where everything's at."

By the time you have the film in the DVD player and plopped yourself on the couch, Abby is comfortably seated beside you

Almost effortlessly her arm drapes behind you and in an instant she has your attention again

This time your eyes are darting down to her lips, bits and pieces of what happened earlier starting to become clearer in your mind

"Y/n, can I do something?" You obliged.

Then her index and thumb pinched your chin, pulling you into her lips where she proceeded to turn your limbs into mush

When her tongue made a slick and speedy appearance, you softly gasped through your nose

She barely pulled away, "Are you okay?"

You hummed affirmatively, too breathless to produce any real words

Then you found yourself even more breathless when her palm found your thigh, she checked in with you again and you could only express your need with another hum

The warmth of her hand slid further along your thigh, reaching where your legs met, her pinky pressed gently against your groin

"Can I do this?" Her face still impossibly close to yours

"Yeah-" you choked out, "Yes." You wish you could express how encouraged this was

With your consent in full, Abby carefully shifted your thighs just how she wanted them - a hefty distance between them

When her steamy palm snaked under your pants and panties, a faint sweat broke out across your brow, Abby stopped to check in with you

"Please, I'm fine, just please-" your waist pressed against her wrist

"Okay then.." she chuckled

By this time a decent amount of slick had accumulated; as if your hot cheeks, kisses, and longing looks weren't telling enough of your desperation for Abby

One of her digits tested your heat, finding the source of your slick and spreading what she could get on her finger toward your clit

When she reached your nerves, you sighed, then whined at her slow pace

"Tell me babe, what do you want me to do?"

'Babe'...a tear ran down your thigh !

"In...inside, please." The words fought to leave your constricting throat

Abby scoffed in surprise, but wouldn't withhold anything from you at this point, so in went one of her fingers

And when it curved to hit that spot that made your thighs clench, a breathy moan escaped your lips

"Mmhmm, sounds good." Abby teased, pecking below your ear

Her thumb resumed a steady pattern on your clit, and before you knew it two fingers were curling inside of you making your entire being useless (moaning and squirming were the exception)

"Beautiful.." Abby hummed, forcing you closer toward the edge by running her tongue across your jaw

By now, the provocative squelch of her knuckles deep inside of you had almost overpowered the movie

Abby had repositioned herself for a better angle and really put her training to work (she mentally noted to pay extra attention to her forearms)

Your eyelids grew droopy, lower abdomen incredibly tense and all your nerves hot

"Like that-" you huffed, stuffing your face into the crook of Abby's neck and nodding against her

She obliged, because if Abby was good at doing one thing, it was following orders, especially if she knew the outcome would be worth it

And seeing your daintier hand clasp onto her forearm, jaw drop and thighs snap shut was so, so worth it

Like the moan that exploded from your mouth, your orgasm exploded on Abby's fingers and rippled up your spine, muscles involuntarily bucking your hips in rhythm with her

"That's right, ride it out.." her words sultry and velvety in your ear

When your climax died down and her motions became too much, you sighed for her to slow to a stop and helped guide her hand from your ruined pants

Her fingers were covered in...well, you, and she didn't skip a beat sticking them in her mouth, swirling her tongue to clean them well

What did your friendship mean now?

[skylarstark4826]

Layla loved to love.

She didn't like negative things. It had been bred into her, really, to not like negative things. She'd been raised with an abundance of pets, most of them rescued by her "veterinarian" mother. She'd always felt connected to the earth and earth-like things (especially trees), and her parents had been involved in charities and belief groups for as long as she could remember. She'd built houses for Habitat for Humanity, volunteered at humane societies, rallied in front of the court house, petitioned.

Her normal father was no slacker, keeping right up with her mother. He'd taken her to yoga classes and interesting pro-peace lectures, and helped her make stuff out of recycled material.

But Layla couldn't help feeling horrible things whenever she was around Will lately.

It started out as a little bit of jealousy, and she waved it away as a natural part of being a teenager; hormones, and all that. The way Will looked at Gwen certainly wasn't the way he looked at her, but oh well. That was just hormones too.

Then it grew into resentment. Will was ignoring her, ignoring their friends. He wouldn't even answer his phoneanymore, and she could hear him in the background when Mrs. Stronghold answered, telling her to tell Layla some excuse as to why he couldn't talk.

Anger mixed in with the resentment, sizzling it's way into her blood and making her see red. It left no room for sadness that a friendship that had lasted over a decade was ending.

In fact, it left her wanting to do something that non-angry Layla would've blanched at; speeding the break along and watching Will hurt the way she was hurting.

Her gaze fell on Warren Peace in the cafeteria. He stalked over to his usual seat all alone, and Layla couldn't help but feel a little compassion for him. People tended to avoid him, even the girls swooning from afar.

A little idea started to form in Layla's mind, but she pushed it and the tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach away when Magenta sat down and started babbling about some stupid lesson of Mr. Boy's.

Still, Layla wasn't one to cut someone from her life without giving them a chance. She'd ask Will to meet her tonight at the Paper Lantern.

It was his last chance.

After seventeen tries, she finally got through to his cell phone.

After several phone calls to Magenta, Layla decided on an outfit.

She was officially not getting dressed up for Will Stronghold.

He didn't deserve it.

She threw on one of her favorite shirts, the one with the white sleeves, and a pair of jeans, some flats, and marched out the door.

(She might've also taken a few deep meditation breaths, but no one had to know that).

Sitting in a booth alone at the Paper Lantern an hour later, though, the fury was back with a vengeance.

Layla focused on the flower in front of her, reached out to it with her power. Felt its cells and its potential, then wilted it down.

How had things come to this? Will was her best friend in the entire world. They'd told each other everything. He'd beaten Terrence Xavier up in the seventh grade when he'd went too far in a game of Seventh Heaven at a party, and Layla had done Will's science projects pretty much every year. Their parents held cookouts together, they had more photo albums filled than they could count.

Going to Sky High together had been the next step. The next great adventure. Instead, it seemed more like the unsatisfying, anticlimactic ending to a very long novel.

"Still workin' on that?"

The voice startled her, and she looked up, hoping it was Will, come to apologize and grovel with a sheepish smile.

Instead, it was Warren Peace. Layla tried to keep the shock off her face and failed.

Warren didn't seem to be faring much better, though, and she took comfort from that.

"Hey," Layla said, because what else were you supposed to do when your best friend/ secret crush's arch enemy comes up to you as a server in your favorite restaurant?

(And when had he started working here, anyway?)

He didn't seem to be in a particularly arch-enemy-ish mood, however. "Hey."

Layla sensed the potential for awkward silence, so she added, "We go to school together."

He nodded, feeling the awkwardness as much as she did. "You're Stronghold's friend."

Layla scowled, unable to keep her anger contained. She looked back down at the table, made the flower wilt a little more. "Not for long."

Warren rose an eyebrow at that, then looked away. "Yeah… So… Uh…. Want me to heat that up for ya?"

Layla looked up, more shocked than she should've been at his casual mention of powers. "You're not supposed to use your powers outside of school!"

Warren snorted and leaned in close, stage whispering, "I was only going to stick it in the microwave."

Layla's eyes were looking straight into his, and she felt as though she were falling forward, deep into them. She blushed crimson and leaned back quickly. "Oh."

Warren smirked, and boom, the tingling was back.

"Um, I was, um, supposed to be meeting Will here, but…" The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She remembered the way everyone avoided him, the way he sat alone everyday. "You wanna sit down?"

She offered him a small, happy Layla smile. She wasn't feeling very much like herself, but she figured it was the least she could do.

Warren blinked at her once, then hesitantly glanced back at his boss. Layla followed his eyes, noticed how tired he looked.

Poor kid, she thought, he must work hard. 

For a second, she felt normal again.

"I guess they can spare me a minute," he sighed, and sat down across from her.

His knees touched hers under the table, and he froze for a second before relaxing and looking her in the eye. Then he smiled, really truly smiled, and snapped his fingers.

A small blaze appeared, and Layla watched his finger mesmerized as he touched it to the candle in the center of the table and lit it. He smirked again.

Layla giggled a little, completely forgetting that she had just reminded him not to use his powers in public.

She didn't have enough fingers to count the number of girls who would keel over of jealousy right now if they saw her. The thought made her head spin in a good sort of way.

"So Stronghold ditched ya?" Warren asked casually, leaning forward as though he were actually interested.

"Yeah. He's been… a jerk lately." Layla bit her tongue, holding back all the things she wanted to say. Most of them were rather colorful, and they weren't words peaceful, loving people like herself were supposed to know, out long use.

Warren seemed to sense this. "Don't hold back. Call him what you want to." He grinned. "I promise you won't corrupt me."

Layla ran her eyes over his broad shoulders and muscular arms, lingered her gaze on his lips and that smirk…His flame tattoos on his wrists. No, she wouldn't corrupt him.

"He's been a complete and utter…" Would she do it? Ah, what the hell. "Ass! A total asshole!"

Warren grinned, actually seeming amused. "Ha! Wow. Never though I'd hear Hippy cuss. I'm proud."

Layla smiled a little and shrugged, looking down. Cussing wouldn't solve this issue with Will.

But it did make her feel better.

"So why'd he ditch you? I mean, I always figured he was a few tools short of the whole shed, but…"

Layla caught the offhand compliment and decided to smile a little more. Just because he was Will's arch enemy doesn't mean he had to be hers, too. "He's probably off with Gwen."

Warren didn't miss the bitter anger in her voice. "I would say green isn't a pretty color, but that's pretty much all you wear."

Something inside of Layla snapped.

"Damn it, I am not jealous!" She slapped her hand down on the table and it instantly stung, but she didn't care. "I'm mad! No, I'm furious! Will has been my best friend since we were in diapers, and now we go to a new school and he sees one pretty- well, okay, perfect- girl, and all of it's down the drain? I mean, what the fuck. This is ridiculous, I don't even know why I'm still here."

"Geez, Hippy, take one of your chill pills would ya? There are other customers in here." Warren looked around with eyes as wide as the plates in front of them.

Layla instantly froze, coming back to herself.

Oh no. Oh, what had she done?

She'd snapped at Warren when she'd wanted to make friends. She'd chosen anger instead of compassion and reason, and she'd had a total hissy fit in front of everyone, and the words she'd said had left a dirty taste in her mouth.

She'd wilted a flower, something she hadn't done since she was a toddler and had had temper tantrums, sucking life out of everything before she'd been old enough to realize how completely wrong that was.

"Oh my God." She breathed, eyes filling with tears.

She would not add crying to her list of failings though, she determined. She choked them back.

She reached out for the flower again, growing it taller than it had been before, blooming beautifully, and she felt a little better.

Warren watched her silently, letting her have her private meltdown. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah. God, Warren, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, I-" Layla stuttered unable to get the words out. She had no clue what to say.

"Just stop. Wait here." Warren directed, getting to his feet.

She sank back into the booth, doing as he said.

"Come on," he said a few minutes later. His apron was gone and his hair was fixed, tied back neater this time. He had his leather jacket swung over his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"I'm taking you home," he said.

She nodded slowly and followed him out of the restaurant, leaving a ten on the table.

"Normally I'd ride my bike, but I don't think we're quite to that level yet." He smirked.

"You have a motorcycle. Why am I not surprised? That's very cliché you know." Layla teased, managing a tiny smile.

"Oh please. I'm the only one around here that can really pull it off." He joked back, bumping her with his shoulder.

For some reason, her stomach dropped and hit the sidewalk. She grinned.

"That's more like it," he said quietly, and Layla's heart beat faster.

She averted her gaze and cleared her throat. "I really am sorry," she went on. "About that. That is not me, not at all."

"I know." Warren said simply. "So. Will is with Gwen, and now you're in agony because you're in love with him."

Layla's mouth dropped open with a little pop. "I am not in love with Will Stronghold!"

At Warren's dubious look she persisted, "I'm not!"

"You have to be at least crushing. It's incredibly obvious." He rolled his eyes.

"Crushing I can admit to." She conceded.

"So why don't you just ask him to Homecoming and get it over with?" Warren asked, turning a corner easily with her.

It was dark out, and normally Layla walked fast through the dark. She didn't like it much. But with Warren she felt… secure. Safe. Nothing would hurt her here in the dark with him right beside her.

She ignored the Stronghold house when they passed it. Didn't even glance in that direction, just kept walking.

"Two problems: Gwen, and also his stuck up attitude here lately. He won't even answer my calls, out long acknowledge me in person." Her voice grew quieter and she focused on the cracked pavement, the hurt and sadness finally settling in.

She was really losing Will. Her best friend in the entire world.

"Stronghold really is an idiot," Warren said, huffing on her behalf. "Alright, Hippy. Just ask him. Get to the bus stop early tomorrow if you have to. I'm assuming he's been avoiding you there, too?"

Layla nodded.

"See. If you get there early, there's no way for him to ignore you. Ask him to the dance then."

He pulled a fortune cookie out of his pocket and broke it open, popping a piece in his mouth. "Besides," he said as he chewed, "To let true love remain unspoken is the quickest route to a heavy heart."

Layla stared at him, almost walking into a lamp post.

"Wow," she managed to breathe. "That is really deep."

"Yeah," Warren nodded, his lips twitching in amusement. "And your lucky numbers are 4, 16, 5... and 49."

"Oh my God, you read that off a fortune cookie?" Layla laughed, grabbing the little piece of paper from him.

Indeed, that was what it said.

"Doesn't make it any less true," he shrugged.

A little flare of hope swelled up inside her. Maybe this would all be okay. Maybe something was wrong tonight and Will had a really good excuse for not showing up. It had never been like him to just not show up, not even with this Gwen thing.

Glancing over at Warren, she thought that maybe things could work out with him, as well. They could be friends. Layla could see the two of them becoming good friends, even, and maybe he and Will would learn to get along.

She stopped in front of her house and turned to grin her normal happy Layla grin at him. "Thank you. Really. You're actually pretty great when you're not hurling fire at people."

Warren rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever."

Unable to resist herself, Layla stepped forward and pressed her body against Warren's. She was surprised at how it felt; he was at least six inches taller than her, and his body was smooth and solid whereas Will's had always been a bit… Soft. And short.

He smelled like cinnamon.

After a moment of being stunned, he awkwardly wrapped one arm around her and gave her a little squeeze back. "Step away before I singe you."

"You just have to ruin the moment, don't you?" She sighed, but obediently stepped away.

"Here, give that one to Stronghold tomorrow. Make him feel bad for not being there tonight." He handed her another fortune cookie.

"Okay. Thanks." Layla said again.

"See you at school, then, I guess?" He asked, clearing his throat and stiffening when he saw an older woman that looked a lot like Layla peering out the window.

"Yeah. Bye!" She waved joyfully, wiggling her fingers, and dashed up the walkway and through the front door.

She could still smell him and feel his skin on hers when she shut it behind her. She was tingling all over and there was this feeling in her…

It was want, though what exactly she wanted from Warren Peace she didn't know.

"Layla!" Her mother greeted, smiling in a suggestive sort of way from the living room and putting the blinds back in place. "Who was that gorgeous young man, hm? Should I set another place at dinner tomorrow? I thought you were meeting Will tonight."

Layla blushed. "He's just a friend. I'm really tired, I'm gonna head on up," Layla gestured towards the steps.

"Night honey. Love you!" Her mom said.

"Yeah, night," her dad grunted, not looking up from the Scrabble board. Her younger siblings giggled and chorused their goodnights, focused on their game.

She called Magenta for outfit advice again, giving her as few details about Warren Peace as possible. She certainly doesn't mention that she hugged him. She leaves the wanting feeling out as well, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

Magenta and Layla decided on her short tan skirt, and her green shirt that tucked in and hung loosely off her shoulders.

She looked good, she'd decided this morning. Good enough to ask Will to Homecoming.

That is, if he had a good excuse for not being there last night. If he didn't, then Layla was breaking this off completely. She couldn't put herself through the misery required.

"Layla!" Will called her name, and she turned around. "You'll never guess what happened to me last night!"

The words were right, but the expression and tone were all wrong, and Layla felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and not the good kind she got when she was talking to Warren last night.

Wordlessly, Layla pulled out the fortune cookie she'd saved and held it out.

"Thanks, I love these," Will took it and bit into it, chewing as he read his fortune. "Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends."

How incredibly fitting, Layla thought. She was beginning to wonder if Warren had something to do with these.

She just rose her eyebrows and waited.

Will's face fell, but not enough to erase his excitement. Layla felt the knife in her chest dig a little deeper. Oh no. She really was going to have to tell Will they weren't friends anymore.

"Oh God. Oh, geez, Layla, I'm sorry. I got so caught up with Gwen-"

And here came the anger again.

"Gwen? You blew me off for Gwen? You've known her for a few weeks, whereas you've known me for your whole life. I am your best friend, Will, and you've been completely ignoring me for awhile now." Layla tried to keep her voice down. The bus would be here any minute, and they weren't always the only two at this stop.

"I'm sorry, Layla, but she came over and my parents invited her to stay for dinner, what was I supposed to do?" Will pleaded.

"Gee, I dunno, how about mention you already had plans?" Layla hissed back.

She was not going to let him worm his way out of this one. This confrontation had been building for weeks now.

"You know I like Gwen! This was one plan, Layla. I'm really sorry about it, but come on! I'm going with her to Homecoming! Can you believe it? Me, a freshman, going with Gwen Grayson." Will smiled nervously, as though expecting her to start applauding or something.

"Seriously?" Layla asked in a low tone, glaring at him.

Will was quiet for a moment, and then, "Is that what this is about? You're jealous that I have a date and you don't?"

"As a matter of fact, I do have a date." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She resisted the urge to bite her lip.

"Oh. Who?" Will asked.

The bus pulled up.

Layla remembered last night and how awful she felt for blowing up like she did, and tried to reign in her temper.

Warren didn't try to control you, she thought to herself. Warren let you be angry.

His name filled the tense air, and she wasn't entirely sure why she did it, but it felt so right and she knew the look on Will's face would be worth it. "Warren Peace."

"Warren Peace?" Will spat the name like it was a dirty word. "Layla, you can't be serious. He's fricking crazy! Not to mention my arch enemy. He hates me. What in the world are you thinking? You can't be thinking at all, not if you're going with him. When did you even start talking to him? No. I refuse to accept this. You're doing this to get back at me, but can't you see that-"

Will had been ranting nonstop since they set foot in the school, and Layla was getting sick of it.

She slammed her locker door, something she never did out of respect for school property, and snapped as loud as she could, "Will, SHUT UP."

The entire student body turned to stare.

Well, no backing out now. "I don't care what you think, I don't care who you're taking to, and I don't care for your incessant whining. What I do is no longer your concern."

That felt good.

Layla left Will (and everyone else) staring after her slack jawed.

That felt good too.

But what felt best was knowing that Warren had walked by as she'd been telling Will off, and the look in his eyes made her flush with pride and more than a little bit of lust.

She had finally figured out what she wanted from Warren Peace.

(It scared the hell out of her.)

"You have to tell Warren." Magenta advised.

They were in the girls bathroom, their daily routine before lunch, reapplying makeup.

"No way. I can just tell Will we cancelled later, if he asks." Layla blinked onto her mascara brush.

"Layla, Will has made a huge deal out of this. All the freshman and most of the seniors already know you're going with him. You can't back out of this." Magenta protested.

"But-"

"Just tell him today at lunch. I'll be right behind you. We'll all sit at Warren's table today." Magenta left no room for discussion, and Layla sighed, knowing the battle was lost.

She went through the line quickly, grabbing her salad, and with a little prod in the back from Maj, scurried off to sit across from Warren.

Layla was trembling all over, and she didn't know how to make it stop.

"Hi Warren." She said as suave as she possibly could, plopping her tray down and immediately shuffling her lettuce around.

Warren was not pleased. "Did I say this was okay yesterday? Because it's not."

Layla tried for a smile. It always worked. "Haha, you're so funny. But, no, seriously. So, I was just about to ask Will to Homecoming this morning, and wouldn't ya know it, I told him I was going with you instead."

Warren stared at her for a good fifteen seconds and didn't burst into flames. Layla took that as a good sign.

"You're kidding." He said flatly.

Layla shook her head hyperactively, and went back to poking her salad.

Luckily, Magenta chose that moment to sit down next to Layla. "Hey Layla, you finish your homework? Can I copy? I was up all night, waiting for that new CD to come out online."

"What are you doing?" Warren asked threateningly.

Layla trembled harder, but not at the threat. At the growl in his voice.

God, what was wrong with her lately?

"It's called sitting." Magenta shrugged.

"No one sits here but me."

It had never occurred to Layla that Warren might choose to be alone.

Somehow she didn't think he had.

Ethan sat down next. "We're eating with Warren now? I feel so badass."

Warren didn't seem to know whether to keep being offended or pleased at that.

Zach sat down too, wearing a bright yellow shirt today, and playfully bumped against Warren. "This guy bothering you, Magenta?"

"Try the other fucking way around! Would you freaks go away?" Warren pushed Ethan further down the bench. Ethan didn't seem to mind.

"What, do all of you need a date to Homecoming or something?" Ouch. That was a low blow.

"Oh, I do!" Ethan raised his hand like the dork he was.

Magenta rolled her eyes and took Layla's offered homework.

Zach stole a piece of food from Warren when he wasn't looking.

Will walked by with Gwen and stared at Layla.

For once, there were no butterflies in Layla's stomach when Will looked at her. Just a sick feeling.

"Hang on a second Gwen," Will said, shocking everyone. "Layla, can I talk to you?"

Gwen glowered, but let go of Will's arm. He came around to Layla's side and hauled her up by her forearm, gently so as not to hurt her with his super-strength.

Layla shrugged him off and followed him out into the deserted hallway.

"What?"

"Look. I don't know what's wrong with you lately, but I want it to stop." Will had always had problems being assertive, and this time was no exception. He sounded weak and meager, saying things like that.

"I'm not acting any differently." Layla said nonchalantly.

"Warren's probably having some kind of effect on you, I told you to stay away from him-"

"Warren is a great guy!" Layla defended him, and realized as she said it that he really was. "If you actually took five seconds to talk to him, you might realize that."

Will groaned and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her. When he turned back around, he took three steps towards her, and she tried not to flinch back.

She didn't know her own best friend anymore. Gwen had taken him and made him a little lap dog, or something.

He was behaving like a mindless jock, and it was driving her nuts.

"Layla, I'm begging you. Break it off."

Layla narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Break it off."

"No!"

"I said dump him!" Will grabbed her arm, and in his anger, forgot his own strength.

"Oooowwwwwwwwwwww!" Layla wailed, dropping to the ground, and before she knew it, Warren was right there, blazing and furious, throwing Will against the wall hard enough to make a dent.

It didn't really hurt him, and for a moment Will slumped there on the floor, looking in horror at Layla, ignoring the fact that his sleeve and part of his pant leg was on fire.

"Touch her again, and I'll run a stake through you like the goddam marshmallow you are, then roast your puny ass." Warren snarled, then whirled around to face Layla.

Her arm was throbbing and she had a headache from all this drama. All she wanted was to go home and crawl into her bed, burrow into her white sheets and stare up at the fake tree branches that twisted above her head, sprouting from the four posts.

Forget about all of this.

Will jumped to his feet, putting out the tiny flames, and ran back into the cafeteria, back to Gwen no doubt. Layla couldn't find it in herself to care.

Warren crouched down in front of her, tilting her chin up, surprised to find her eyes and cheeks dry.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, caring. It made Layla feel warm and cared for.

"Yeah. He didn't mean it, really, he's super-" She was upset, yes, but she was also Layla Williams, and Layla Williams was nothing if not understanding and forgiving.

"Strong, I know. Doesn't make this okay." Warren grunted, then reached for her arm.

"Don't!" Layla gasped, drawing it away.

Warm brown eyes met stormy gray ones. "I won't hurt you, Layla."

He called me Layla and not Hippy, she thought in a daze, and held out her arm.

His fingers were warm and calloused, touching her gently, rotating her arm and moving her shoulder.

"He could've done a lot more damage." Warren finally determined. "It'll definitely bruise, but it should fade in a week or so. Come on."

He held his hand out, and Layla took it, standing up and following him down the hall.

He led her to the nurse's station, and she was about to protest- she didn't want to get Will in trouble for something that was an accident- but he gestured for her to stop where she was and went in alone.

"Hey Nurse Spex," Warren's voice was light and respectful; it was almost a cheerful greeting.

Layla leaned against the cool wall and listened.

"Mr. Peace. Back for some burn salve again?" Nurse Spex sounded completely at ease around the school bad boy. Almost matronly.

"Nope. Bruise salve and some ice." There was a grin in Warren's voice, but also leftover anger at Will.

"Mhm," Nurse Spex murmured reproachfully. "Don't you send any more kids in here today Warren Peace!"

"No mam, I won't." Some shuffling and then, "Thanks."

"Sure. You're a good boy, Warren. Act like it every now and then."

Warren barked a laugh. "Not a chance."

A moment later he emerged, shutting the door behind him.

"This way," he took Layla's hand, and she let herself be guided out the door and into the sunshine. Warren led her to the grass at the side of the building and sat down underneath a shady tree.

"We're probably not supposed to be out here." Layla bit her lip.

"Probably not. Oh well." Warren muttered distractedly, opening the little jar and swiping the applicant over the white stuff inside it a few times.

He took her arm again and rubbed it on the already-forming bruise.

"Thanks," Layla said quietly.

"I've had a few bruises in my time," he shrugged. "I think the nurse has a thing for me." He winked and Layla laughed.

He wrapped the ice around it next, then leaned against the tree. "Going dress shopping soon?"

Homecoming was not this weekend but next. At least the bruise would be gone by then. "I don't know. Maybe."

Layla hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I didn't mean too, it's just that he gets me so worked up and I wasn't thinking."

"Don't give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Hippy. I'll go along with it."

"Really?"

"Mhm. Just don't expect me to rent a tux."

"…Okay."

Layla settled on her back and focused on the sun above her and the grass beneath her and the tree near her and Warren.

Within ten minutes she was asleep.

Warren woke her when the final bell rang, and instead of being mad, she yawned and smiled at him.

"Here, keep this. Put it on every night, okay?" He instructed, handing her the salve.

"Sir yes sir." Layla smirked.

"That's Mr. Peace, sir, to you." He leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

Then it was his turn to smirk and Layla shivered.

"Don't think I didn't notice that," he grinned.

Layla felt a rush of desire run down her spine and settle between her legs, and she flushed bright red.

Homecoming would be interesting.

Somehow they settled into a routine.

They'd all sit together at lunch. Warren would harass her friends, and her friends would ignore his threats.

Then in the afternoons, Layla would go to the Paper Lantern and sit until closing time, and Warren would walk her home, then go back to get his bike.

He still hadn't managed to get her to ride it. He was determined to one day, though.

Sometimes they touched, and that was nice too. Turns out Warren was a very physical person once he'd warmed up to you. (No pun intended). He always made sure some part of him was in constant contact with Layla, unless he was working. Their knees touching, leaning against each other in a booth.

Once, Layla had gotten up the nerve to entwine her fingers with his. It had been late one night- the Paper Lantern had been packed, and it was a weekend- and Warren had slid into her booth to take a break from cleanup.

"You look tired." She said, brushing hair back from his face.

"So do you," he noted.

Layla had just shrugged and leaned her head over on his shoulder, heart beating out of her chest.

Her fingers had slid down his thigh, and he shuddered, and her hand found his.

He had glanced down at their joined fingers and took a shaky breath, then looked back at her; their eyes met and they both felt the connection, the pull, lean in lean in lean in…

His boss yelled then, and he jumped back, giving her hand a squeeze before pulling away, looking apologetic. She had simply smiled, and that night he had given her a piggy back ride the whole way home.

They did this for over a week, and on the Tuesday before Homecoming, Warren got off early and they decided to go see a movie later.

Which meant that Layla had to get on The Bike.

She followed Warren behind the restaurant, nervously twisting her hands together. She lost her breath when she saw it, a metal monster sitting there waiting for her.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea." She began to protest.

"Scared, Hippy?" He taunted her, teeth flashing.

"No." Layla set her jaw.

"Prove it." He tossed a helmet at her, and she caught it, putting it on uncertainly. He put his on as well, swinging one leg over the bike expertly.

Layla's knees almost buckled at the site. Damn he was hot.

(That was another thing. Her reserves about language had almost disappeared. They were just words, after all. No big deal. She was beginning to think that while Warren was an overall good person, his bad habits were contagious).

He patted the space behind him, and Layla's legs propelled her forward without her permission.

She clumsily swung her leg over and slid into place, noticing how incredibly intimate it felt to be pressed up against him, chest-to-back, her hips fitting against his.

The bike roared to life underneath them, and she screeched and buried her face in Warren's shoulder.

He laughed. "Hold on tight, Hippy!"

Layla's main organs were left somewhere far behind her as he sped off, bike engine roaring. Her hair streamed out behind them, glowing red like Warren's fire in the sun, and slowly she began to relax.

They roared through downtown, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Will, Gwen, the Pennys, and some other popular kids hanging out outside an ice cream place, and she saw Will's shocked expression when he recognized her.

The Layla he knew would've never got on a bike like this. But the Will Layla had known would never have betrayed her, and besides, being goody good Layla got boring. She was in high school now; she should be able to have a little fun before she was expected to save the world.

Well, help her hero save the world. Whatever.

"This is so great!" She yelled to Warren over the wind and the bike's roar.

"I knew you'd love it!" He yelled back.

The bike wasn't the only thing Layla was beginning to love.

Warren's mother was small and slender with one of the prettiest faces Layla had ever seen. She was sweet and conversational, and wore pink and cute accessories. She was not what Layla had pictured her to be, but Warren shared the same brown eyes.

"My room's the second door on the right, up the stairs. You can head on up," Warren murmured, and Layla took that as a dismissal and left the kitchen where all three of them were drinking lemonade.

She stayed still on the steps, listening. Layla wasn't one to eavesdrop, but then, she wasn't one to get mad at friends, or cuss, or ride on the back of a motorcycle, either.

"I like her, Warren."

"I'm glad."

"Seriously. She's sweet and charming-"

"Ma-"

"And she sorted out my recyclables which I've been meaning to do for ages-"

"Ma!"

"And she was wearing the cutest shirt."

"Ma…"

"You two would make the most adorable couple! Really, give it a chance, won't you?"

Layla couldn't hold back her grin.

Her and Warren as a couple… The thought made her lick her lips in anticipation.

"Wait…Hang on a second…" Warren muttered, and the next second, his head popped around the corner.

"Ahh!" Layla squeaked and rushed up the steps, Warren right behind her.

"You little sneak!" He roared.

Layla reached his door and went to slam it on him, but he was faster and he knocked it open again. He grabbed her and his fingers found her ticklish sides, then her stomach.

"W-w-warren stop!" She managed around her giggles.

He pulled one hand away and held her tightly cradled against his body. Then a fireball engulfed his free fist and Layla shrieked.

"Warren!" His mother reproached from the doorway, looking very amused. "Don't scare the guests like that!"

"Yeah, don't scare the guests like this!" Layla gasped.

"Never listen in again." He ordered, and let her go.

"Alright, well, you kids be good. I have to go…. Tend to business." Warren's mother excused herself.

Layla glanced around, now having the chance to actually observe the room she was in.

Warren's bed was large, the sheets slightly singed.

He had a desk in one corner, a large bookshelf spanning two walls. There were two windows wide open, letting sunlight in.

She turned towards him and bit her lip, sitting on the edge of his mattress. He leaned against the wall and watched her.

"What time does our movie start?" She asked.

"Seven."

She nodded and kicked off her flip flops, leaned back onto the bed. Warren's eyebrows shot up, and she motioned for him to come to her.

"Lay with me," she invited.

"I don't do the whole cuddling thing," he said stiffly.

"Did I say we were cuddling?" She asked.

They ended up cuddling.

Well, Layla didn't think this really qualified as cuddling, per say. It was more like holding. He was on his back and she was sprawled across him, her head on his shoulder, their stomachs pressed together. She could feel slivers of skin against hers where their shirts had rode up. One of her legs was between his, and he had an arm around her, playing with her hair.

She didn't exactly know how this had happened, but she wasn't about to complain.

They were talking about everything and nothing; Warren's daddy issues, how Warren's name was a pun on War and Peace ("You caught that?" He asked, stunned).

Layla talked about how she felt stereotyped and underestimated. She talked about how hard it was to keep her temper lately, and how concerned it made her.

"You know, a lot of times," Warren said, "When kids come to Sky High, their powers sort of… awaken. They're being used on a daily basis, applied, strengthened. Everything is suddenly a lot more real, a lot more accepted too, so it's not uncommon for some people to lose control for a little while when they're first learning."

That made Layla feel so much better she could've done a dance right there in the middle of the floor.

Then he went on, "And if you're so tired of being stereotyped, stop wearing green so damn much."

She knew he was teasing, but what he said made sense. "Oh yeah? What color should I wear instead, then?"

He studied her a moment, making her body flush and hum.

"Red," he finally said.

She was quiet for a moment, her body thrumming with energy from being this close to Warren.

Then she turned her head to the side to look at him. "Why did you agree to come to Homecoming with me?"

"Why did you tell Will I was your date?" He countered.

"Touché." She mumbled.

After a little while longer, when she'd plucked up her courage, she kissed his cheek, then his jaw.

He rolled his head to the side and brushed her hair out of her face. "We should get going if we're gonna make it to the movie."

Layla tried not to analyze the crushing disappointment in her chest, tried not to stare at his lips, mere inches from hers. "You're right."

The movie the night before had been fun; a lot of crappy affects that Warren made fun of, Layla's favorite male actor to swoon at. (Watching Warren get so jealous he set the popcorn on fire was funny. Watching him try to put it out before smoke detectors went off was even funnier.)

Now it was Wednesday, and Homecoming was Friday, and Layla still didn't have a dress.

She did what she always did. She called Magenta.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or does the caller I.D actually read Layla Williams?" The sarcastic voice at the other end answered.

Layla winced. She'd forgotten to call Magenta last night and let her know how the movie went. "Sorry! I was so tired when I got in!"

"Uh huh. Now dish."

Layla told her all about Warren's mom, all about how they'd laid on his bed and talked, how he'd set the popcorn on fire.

"Why don't you just kiss him already?" Magenta pushed.

"I don't know!" Layla chewed on her lip. "Can we go dress shopping? Please?"

"You don't have one either? Alright, give me ten minutes, I'll be over there. Mom can give us a ride to the mall."

Layla texted Warren to let him know why she wouldn't be at the Paper Lantern.

Stay away from the greens ;) he replied.

She smiled and stuck her phone in her back pocket.

"Mom, Magenta and I are going Homecoming shopping," Layla called into the kitchen.

"Have fun!" She called back. "Hey, do you want to invite Warren over for dinner?"

Oh geez. Layla could just see how that would go. "No, Mom, he has to work!"

"That poor boy is always working," her mother sighed.

"I know." A car horn honked. "Magenta is here."

"Alright, bye! Be good! Remember to thank Magenta's mother!"

"Of course!" Layla nodded and shut the door behind her.

The mall was pretty empty; it was a random Wednesday, after all.

They hit six different stores and couldn't find a thing. Magenta went into Hot Topic, a store that had always intimidated Layla more than a little, and found a cute black and purple, lacey dress.

"Maybe I should try somewhere else, like a small store," Layla worried.

"No… Just try this one," Magenta gestured to a colorful, upbeat store tucked away in the corner.

"I didn't even see that one. Okay, this one and then I'm done," Layla agreed.

There weren't very many people in here, which made searching the racks easy. Magenta held up several green dresses in various shades and styles.

"How about these?"

Layla thumbed through them. "They're all so cute…" And they were. It was just that she didn't want to wear green to Homecoming. She had something to prove, after all, not only to Warren and Will and Gwen, but to herself.

Her eyes fell on it then; it was a tiny little thing, a short, silky, strapless red dress.

"I wanna try this on," she said, grabbing it and headed to the back, where there were curtains drawn around tiny dressing rooms.

"That?" Magenta sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. I'm… trying something new." Layla confirmed. She slipped out of her shirt and jeans and slid the dress over her head.

It conformed to her body like a second skin, and she stared wide eyed at herself in the mirror. She had curves. She'd never noticed before. It didn't clash with her hair, either, like she was expecting. It hit the middle of her thighs, making her legs look longer. With a killer pair of heels, Layla would almost be able to call herself hot.

Imagining the look on Warren's face solidified her decision. This was the one she wanted.

"What do you think?" She asked Magenta, pulling the curtain aside.

Magenta's mouth fell open. "Oh my God."

"Does it look bad?" Delusions all alone in a changing room were very different from the actual thing.

"No. It doesn't look bad at all. You're gorgeous." Magenta stressed the word, scanning Layla from head to toe.

Layla grinned. "Thanks. Can you go look for shoes while I get changed back?"

"Of course. I kinda want a new pair, too." Maj nodded.

Layla put the dress back on it's hanger and put her clothes back on. She found Magenta at the shoe section a few minutes later, comparing different styles of black pumps.

"Peep toe or criss-cross straps?" She asked.

"Peep toe. It's more feminine," Layla advised.

She scanned the rows herself and soon found the perfect pair; they were the exact shade of red as her dress; lace up ankle booties with the same peep toe as Magenta's shoes, and four inch heels.

"Whoa. Those are hot." Magenta nodded her approval. "You gonna get them?"

"Definitely."

"Warren's gonna go inferno when he sees you in that."

That's what Layla was hoping.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Come on, Hippy, just a hint!"

"Not gonna happen."

"Let me know the color, at least! It's not green, is it?"

Warren had been begging for dress details ever since he'd nonchalantly mentioned it while working and Layla had just smirked. Homecoming was tomorrow night, and she'd decided to keep the dress a secret, wait to see his reaction.

Warren didn't like secrets, apparently.

"I will get this out of you," he threatened as he cleaned his last table for the night. It had been unusually busy for a Thursday night; it was almost nine. Layla was glad her parents weren't normal ones. They didn't believe in silly restrictions such as curfews.

"You can try…" Layla trailed off, unconcerned.

He glared menacingly at her and tore his apron off.

She smiled angelically.

She slipped her fingers into his without even thinking about it, and was reluctant to let them go to get on the bike.

He took it slow and steady, not wild and crazy like the other day, turning corners smoothly and going slow. Layla relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder blade.

They came upon Will's house, and she scoffed when she saw the bright lights and heard the blaring music. Will had never been the type to throw huge parties when his parents were gone.

Another change of Gwen's, no doubt.

"Wanna crash it?" Warren asked, a dare in his voice.

"Sure!" Layla smirked.

He sped up and hit the curb; Layla squeaked, and he parked in the middle of the perfect lawn.

She swung her leg over the side, and took his hand again. The door was already half open, so she let herself in.

Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold were gonna have a cow.

The entire house was messed up; furniture was overturned, there were tons of spills, and some things were broken. Her crystal was being used as light reflectors, and the floors were scuffed. One side of the couch was broken from where Larry the Rock had sat.

Warren looked around in curious disdain. "Shittiest party I've ever been to."

"Ditto," Layla nodded, even though her party going experiences were very limited.

Heroes in training ran around wreaking havoc, and Layla moved forward, looking for Will. She wanted to let him know that what had happened to her arm was forgiven, that she knew it was a mistake. The closest she'd gotten to him since it happened was in passing, dozens of feet away in school halls.

Penny- or one of her copies- closed in on her immediately, and Warren gave her hand a tiny squeeze.

She shot him a grateful smile, and that's when Gwen decided to make her appearance. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Who invited the sidekick?" Penny called out, and everyone in earshot turned, "oohing" and smirking, like they were better or something.

Layla rolled her eyes. "Where's Will? Tied up on a leash out back?"

"He's avoiding you, actually. Come on, Layla. Will knew you liked him." Gwen looked mean, but mostly she just seemed bored.

Layla noticed with some satisfaction that the pink halter top she wore didn't look nearly as good on her as she probably thought it did. "Did he?"

She felt Warren step closer to her and inconspicuously leaned back against him.

"Uh huh. Obviously he's not interested. He's just too nice a guy to tell you himself." Gwen smiled in a sickly sweet sort of way and tilted her head to the side, twirling her hair.

"He wasn't too nice," one of the Pennys said, "to tell us though. God, he is constantly whining about what an obsessive little bitch you were, calling and trying to make plans all the time."

Okay, that stung a bit.

The whole time they had been friends, had Layla simply been nothing more than a nuisance?

"Whatever," Layla muttered, looking away.

"I mean, take a goddam hint, would ya? He's going to Homecoming with me, he's throwing a party and didn't invite you, and he's too embarrassed to be seen with you at school." Gwen snarled.

"I don't care, alright? Whatever was going on with me and Will- or not going on- is over now, so just back the hell off!" Layla yelled, trying to sidestep Gwen and get out of here. This had been a very bad idea.

Gwen blocked her, glancing at Warren for the first time. "Oh, that's right. Layla's got a new boy toy now. Warren Peace, resident psycho."

She looked back at Layla. "Careful, Layla. You never know when he'll turn evil. Wouldn't want to get too involved with a guy destined to end up like his father; worthless and locked up like an animal."

Warren seemed to sense a change in Layla, and he grabbed her by both forearms, careful to avoid her still-tender spot from Will. "Whoa, Hippy. Calm down."

Gwen snorted. "Like she could do anything."

"You wanna see what I can-" Layla started, then stopped. She took a deep breath like her father had taught her, and turned. "Come on, Warren, let's go. This was stupid."

He slid his hand down her arm to take her hand again and they headed towards the door.

"Layla!" Will called, coming from the kitchen, looking happy to see her.

Layla remembered what Penny had said and glared at him. "Fuck off."

"But, but, I mean," he stuttered.

"Save it." Warren growled, his free hand beginning to ignite.

Will's face hardened. "When did you become such a, a, a bitch Layla? You used to care."

That hurt more than anything else, and Layla turned away, not willing to let him see her face crumple.

"Have fun with Gwen, Stronghold," Warren stormed, throwing the ball of flames, and missing Will's head by an inch on purpose. "You two are perfect for each other; you never did deserve a second of Layla's time."

The door slammed behind them, and Layla stumbled down the porch steps and a few feet away from the house, her tears starting to pick up pace. Her shoulders shuddered and her vision blurred and she couldn't believe that that had just happened.

"Whoa, whoa," Warren said, his voice tender and soft. "Whoa, Layla. Shhh. Calm down." He wrapped his arms around her, not stiff or awkward at all, and she buried her face against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Warren," she gasped. "I'm so sorry, this was a horrible idea."

"I was the one to suggest crashing, if you remember," he huffed, sounding frustrated with himself. "This was my fault."

"No," Layla shook her head, "it's Will's."

"Layla?" Oh great. The Commander and Jetstream were home.

Warren didn't let her go, and for that she was thankful. She just turned her head to the side.

"Layla, sweetheart, what is going on here?" Mrs. Stronghold asked.

"Will is throwing a party," she sighed.

"Well we can see that. Why? And why are you so upset?" Well, Mr. Stronghold had always been blunt.

"I guess because his prissy little girlfriend asked him to," Warren answered for her, barely contained anger in his eyes.

"You're… You're Barron's boy!" The Commander sounded utterly shocked to find his arch enemy's son in his front yard.

"Yeah." Warren's voice was flat.

Mrs. Stronghold's eyes darted back and forth and she intervened immediately. "Layla, I apologize for whatever Will has done. Warren, it was nice meeting you. Come on, Commander, we've got a son to severely punish." She drug him to the front door, cape fluttering behind her as Mr. Stronghold continued to gape like a fish at Warren, and more specifically, at Warren holding Layla.

"Where are we?" Layla sniffled, arms across her chest. She leaned back against the bike, staring at Warren through the dark. He was about thirty feet away, just gazing at her.

"Come here," he said, his voice husky, and she obeyed, going to stand just a few inches in front of him.

After a second of looking into each other's eyes, a huge circle of fire sprung up around them, about three feet high, thirty feet away in either direction.

Layla gasped, eyes going wide, and Warren smiled.

"When I was little," he began, "around six or seven, when I was finally able to control my powers, my mother and father went to war again. It killed her to do it, because she loved him. Still loves him."

Layla focused solely on him, drinking in every word. He was letting her in, and she wasn't about to pass this up.

"Sometimes, when she thought I wouldn't notice, she'd go lie in bed for hours and not get up. She didn't sob her eyes out, and I almost wished she had, because that would've made sense, ya know? But she just laid there and one tear would come out at a time…" He trailed off, wiping a stray tear off Layla's cheek.

"I couldn't stand it. And I thought I was adding to the problem; I have the same power as my father, and I got to thinking that all the destruction I caused when I lost control made her even more sad. So I came up with a way to show her that fire isn't just destruction, and also make her happy again. Practiced for hours outside, while she laid in bed."

Another ring popped up, burning brighter than the first, and larger, a few inches outside it Layla's eyes flickered to it before returning to the deep brown ones.

"It worked. It made her happy again. I still do it sometimes, when things get really bad." He stepped back a few feet and stripped his shirt off.

Layla's eyes widened, focused on his rippling muscles and smooth skin, imagining what it must feel like, taste like.

She licked her lips.

Warren opened his palms toward her, leaving his hands at his side. Then, after a moment, the fingertips of his right hand began to spark.

The sparks dripped onto the grass and fizzled out, but sometimes they landed on his wrist, and he let these grow. They licked their way up his forearm to his bicep, onto his shoulder. They cascaded down his chest, thin little waterfalls of flame.

Any shirt he could've been wearing would have burned up.

Layla smiled at him, feeling calmer than she had in a long time. He smiled back, and lifted one arm up. A little ball of fire went rolling from his wrist, down his arm, across his shoulders, and down the other arm. He bounced it back and forth, coaxing a laugh from her.

Another ring popped up, then another, closer to where they stood. Layla wasn't scared.

Warren slowly tilted his head back and opened his mouth wide. After a second, a large fountain of fire erupted from him, shooting up to the night sky, and Layla gasped, jumping a little.

Warren could literally breathe fire.

"Oh my God!" She laughed, adrenaline and desire running through her, mixing and making her grow warm in a way that had nothing to do with the flames.

He laughed too at her reaction, then his torso burned brighter, and geysers of flame burst everywhere sporadically, turning different colors and heights, turning everything golden-blue-purple-red-pink-orange. Just not green.

It was the most magical thing Layla had ever experienced, and she wondered how anyone could have ever thought this incredible person would go evil.

"You're amazing," she breathed before she could stop herself.

Warren looked more than a little smug. "I try."

He stopped blazing himself, but the fire all around them kept on. He came back towards her, taking one of her hands in his, palm up.

"Now for the grand finale," he murmured. His eyes met hers. "You have to trust me completely for this to work, alright? You can't freak out."

"What's going to happen?" She asked, anticipation coiling in her stomach.

"You'll see. Pick a color." Layla opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Not green."

"Prejudiced," she grumbled. Then she smiled. "Blue."

"Is that the color of the dress?" He asked.

"You'll have to wait and see," she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright. Blue it is."

A moment later, Layla's hand caught on fire.

She started to yelp and draw her hand away, but Warren held on tight. "I told you not to panic, Hippy. If you freak out, it'll burn you."

Layla relaxed instantly, meeting his eyes again before looking back down at the flame in her hand. It glowed brightly, soaring ten inches, dancing and swaying.

"Pick another color," Warren advised.

"Purple," she said without thinking, and just like that, it changed.

"Oh wow. This is incredible. How are you doing this?" She asked, grinning up at him.

He shrugged. "I dunno. How do you make flowers bloom?"

"Thank you, Warren. So much." She whispered.

He let go of her hand, and the flame went out. Her palm tingled where it had been.

Very slowly, as though he might scare her off, he brushed a piece of hair off her face. He shuffled closer to her, and she thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

He brought his other hand up to cradle her cheek and she nearly whimpered aloud. "Warren…"

"Layla…" he breathed, and then his mouth was on hers and her knees trembled with the effort of holding her up.

His mouth moved gently against hers, and she was surprised at the way they felt; how did such a hard boy have such soft lips?

Her brain stopped working and she acted on pure instinct, moving her lips with his, every inch of her tingling and wanting more.

Her fingers twisted into his black and red hair, pulling him closer, and he grunted in surprise before clutching at her lower back, drawing her to him, parting his lips and rubbing his tongue against her bottom lip.

She opened her mouth gladly, rubbed the tip of her tongue against his and moaned at the feel. He went deeper, his lips as intense and wonderful as the rest of him, kissing her mercilessly. His tongue rubbed against the roof of her mouth, and the place was so sensitive she gasped, pushing herself closer, trying to create friction.

She could feel their powers clashing, trying to find balance, and knew he felt it too. She was dimly aware of the flames around them burning brighter, higher, hotter.

Fire and earth just didn't mix. They weren't even polar opposites; there was nothing there to work with, and Layla could feel both herself and Warren desperately searching for some sort of click, some sort of stability.

And then it came.

Fire was underneath the earth, glowing hot in the core; it was the sun; it was what made life possible. Plants and trees and every other creature flourished. They relied on each other, fed off each other, in a never-ending cycle.

Warren felt it the second Layla did, and clutched her even tighter, breaking their kiss to breathe. She felt his tongue behind her ear, felt his teeth scrape her collarbone. She pressed flurries of kisses to his cheek and jaw and bare chest, any part she could reach.

He lifted her up easily, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinning against his mouth before kissing him some more, making sure to flick her tongue against the roof of his mouth in payback. He growled playfully, letting her support herself, tangling his fingers in her hair. She did the same, clenching her legs around him.

She could feel how much he wanted her, and she carefully rubbed her center against him. He groaned and she moaned, and they started touching all over again.

When they finally stopped a thousand lifetimes later, Layla felt dizzy and achy and sated and unsatisfied all at once. Her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess, and she was pretty sure Warren had a hickey where his neck met his shoulder.

She felt amazing.

"I should get you home," he managed, his voice cracking. He ravaged her with his eyes, memorizing the way she looked.

"Probably," she agreed, hating to say the word.

He kissed her again, sweetly this time, and when he dropped her off, he kissed her another time, a little more deeply, with a little more need.

Her mother pounced on her as soon as she was through the door; not because it was past eleven on a school night, but to shriek and ask for all the juicy details. She had seen the last kiss through the window.

Layla smiled at her mother and agreed to some tea; she gave her the footnotes version (because really, the entire evening was just too personal to share), called Magenta and gave her the full version and then some, and then went to bed.

She was in love with Warren Peace, and she'd never been happier.

"Seriously, Layla, stay still! You're lucky you don't have a hickey, I'd never get it covered up." Magenta had come over to Layla's house to get ready for the dance. The school had been buzzing with excitement all day. (Coach Boomer was not happy about having to give his gym over to the decorating committee).

Magenta was trying to do Layla's make up, but Layla was way too keyed up to sit still.

"I can't help it." Layla fidgeted, twirling her silver earring around her finger.

"There. Done. Finally. What do you think?" Magenta asked, pushing Layla towards the mirror.

Layla's hair was pinned back in curls, a few hanging down around her face. Magenta had dusted silvery eye shadow across her lids and worked magic with eyeliner and mascara.

"I think Warren and Zach are two very lucky boys," Layla's mother chimed in from the doorway.

"Thanks Mom," Layla smiled.

"Sure. Now get going! You don't want to be late. Here, take lots of pictures," her mother said, putting the camera in Layla's little clutch bag.

Layla and Magenta got to the school early, but plenty of other students had as well. The silver diamonds hung from the ceiling and the disco ball turned in the dark, making everything look silvery.

Magenta spotted Zach waiting for her at the entrance, and Layla looked around for Warren but he wasn't there yet.

"Do you mind? I'll wait with you if you want," Magenta offered.

"No, go ahead," Layla waved her friend away.

She spotted Mr. Boy working the snack table and went over to him. "Hi, Mr. Boy."

"Layla!" He greeted, smiling. "Want some punch?"

"No thanks," she shook her head.

"Don't worry, the bubbles are just ginger ale!" He said, when a stretchy arm and hand knocked the cup over on to him.

Layla turned to glare at Lash and handed Mr. Boy some napkins. "Don't mind him. He is such a jerk."

"Hope you're not talking about me," Warren said from behind her, and Layla whirled around.

He scanned her from head to toe, slowly, and the appreciative look in his eyes made her beam.

"Red, huh? Nice choice." He complimented.

"I thought you weren't going to rent a tux?" She asked quizzically.

"It was my dad's," he shrugged, "he doesn't have much use for it in solitary."

Layla tried to hide her shock and how much she was touched. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, and he smiled when she pulled away.

After awhile, when Ethan finally showed up all decked out in orange and they'd socialized enough, Warren pulled Layla over to the corner and kissed her the way she'd been aching for.

His hands were on her hips, his leg parting both of hers-

Dimly, Layla was aware of people clapping and cheering and a bright spotlight…

And his head was tilted in a way that made tasting him so much easier and better and she ran her tongue in between his lips, stroked her hands across his broad shoulders-

"Good evening, first some quick…"

He pulled away from her, ran his tongue across the shell of her ear, made her shudder. "I fucking love what you're wearing." She shivered against him and pulled him back-

"Sorry, sorry, excuse me…"

"I thought you would," she breathed, smiling. His gaze roamed over her again, settling on her cleavage and the shape of her hips-

"A special thank you goes to our guests of honor…"

"Maybe we should just ditch this shindig altogether," Warren groaned when she pushed his shirt and jacket aside to lick at the spot she'd made-

"Most powerful super-being ever to walk the halls of Sky High… Me!"

That got Layla's attention.

She turned just in time to see Gwen Grayson rip at her skirt right there in front of everyone, revealing some sort of robotic getup and a cape. A helmet formed over her head.

"What the fuck?" Warren asked.

Layla silently echoed his sentiments.

What looked like lightning burst from Gwen's fingertips, and out slid signs reading Royal Pain.

Layla's stomach dropped through the floor. Mr. Boy had made them take a test over the most well-known battles known to hero-kind, and one of them included was the battle between Royal Pain, Jetstream, and the Commander. (Another had been the one between Barron Battle and the Commander. Layla had tried to skirt over that one).

A creepy, demented, laughing little elf thing skipped onto the stage, releasing a hatch on the podium and handing Gwen what looked like a giant, clear gun.

"What the hell is going on?" Magenta ran up to Layla, clutching her arm.

"I… I don't know…" Layla stuttered.

Zach and Ethan were right behind Magenta, and together, they moved closer to the refreshment table, closer to exits.

The Commander's voice rang out, filling the gym. "Royal Pain… is a… girl."

"Yes I'm a girl, you idiot." A robotic voice came from Gwen- er, Royal Pain. "Now prepare to be Pacified."

The Commander scoffed, and Layla and Warren shared a confused and worried look. Gwen had really lost it this time. "You really think you can kill me with that thing?"

"My dear Commander, who said anything about killing you?" Royal Pain asked.

And then she pulled the trigger. Energy that looked light lightning shout out and hit the Commander square in the chest. He shrunk immediately, and the sound of a baby crying echoed throughout the gym.

Bursts of more lightning-stuff shot out as Royal Pain aimed at others, hitting adults and students alike. People screamed and panicked, running as fast as they could-

Only to have the exits barricaded by Speed, Lash, and Penny.

"Boomer, get the kids out of he-" the principal started to scream before she was hit, as well.

"Sparky, find an exit," Coach Boomer ordered, addressing Warren. He started to continue, and then he was hit.

"Come on," Warren directed, looking around for a moment before spotting their way out; a vent in the side of the wall.

He held Layla back, and then sent fire hurtling towards it. It fell off easily, and Magenta rushed past them, climbing inside. Layla followed, then Zach, Warren, and Ethan.

They crawled as fast as they could, and Layla tried not to feel self conscious about the way the short dress was clinging to her and the fact that Zach was right behind her.

They twisted and turned, leaving the screams and bursts of light behind. After awhile, they slowed down, and Magenta asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"In a vent?" Zach said in a duh sort of tone.

"Smart ass," Magenta hissed.

Layla stifled an almost hysterical giggle.

"Hey Warren, how about a torch?" Ethan asked.

"Not unless you wanna be barbequed," he grumbled, and Layla could feel his frustration at not being able to help anyone or anything, at feeling powerless.

An eerie green glow filled the shaft, and Layla fell to the side along with Magenta, letting Zach past.

"And then all the reindeer loved him..." Magenta sing-songed, smiling softly at Zach.

"Hey, way to glow man!" Ethan snorted.

Warren came up to Layla, and she reached out and stroked his cheek, squeezed his hand. He huffed, blowing his hair out of his eyes and motioned for her to go on.

Layla was really glad right about now that she wasn't claustrophobic.

"We've gotta get out of these goddam vents," Magenta griped in irritation.

It felt like they'd been crawling for an eternity.

"Head this way," Warren suggested, pointing to a place where the vent let out.

They did, and as soon as Zach reached the metal barrier, it was ripped out of the way.

"Sup, kid?" Layla heard Zach say.

Magenta crawled out after him, and Layla followed, pulling her dress down, but she froze when she saw Will.

He offered her a small, olive branch smile, but Layla didn't return it. He had done too much damage to be forgiven so soon, even under these circumstances.

Warren was right there with her in an instant, throwing a protective arm around her shoulders. Will's face fell a bit.

Ethan fell out of the vent, then popped back up. "Hey, Will."

"You guys are never going to believe this! Gwen-"

"Is Royal Pain's daughter?" Layla asked flatly.

"Yeah! And she-"

"Stole the Pacifier?" Zach chimed in.

"Right, yeah, and she's turned everyone into babies, including your parents, dude." Ethan sighed.

Will looked more than freaked out. "Okay, that I didn't know."

"I think this is more than anyone can handle." Layla groaned, turning and leaning against Warren, closing her eyes.

She loved that she had a safe place to land now.

"No, you guys, we can do this!" Will protested.

"Who, you and Warren? The rest of us are only sidekicks." Magenta hissed, putting an extra bite in her words.

She knew what Will had put Layla through.

Will sighed. "Just because someone has powers doesn't make them a hero. Sometimes it just makes them a jerk. It makes me a jerk."

Layla stiffened and turned around at that. Will pleaded with her with his eyes. "Layla, I'm so sorry. I never meant anything that's happened these last few weeks."

Warren went rigid behind her, and Layla realized that he probably thought she was going to fall into Will's arms now, leave him all alone.

Couldn't he see that she needed him as much as he needed her?

They were fucking co-dependent.

"And in case my homecoming date ends up killing me tonight," Will said, stepping closer, "I just want you to know-"

"No Will." She protested, stepping backwards. Warren looked down at her in shock. "No."

Will's eyes went wide, glancing between her and Warren. "W-what?"

"I said no. I-" Layla cut herself off. What if Warren didn't feel the way she felt, even after all they'd been through? Oh, well, too late now. "I'm in love with Warren, okay?"

"Please tell me you're joking," Will said weakly.

Layla stared up at Warren, gray meeting brown. "No. I'm not joking."

"I love you too," he whispered, and a giddy sort of head rush clouded over Layla's brain because all of this seemed to be happening very fast but it was oh so right, and she reached up to kiss him-

"Isn't that sweet? I hate sweet," Penny snapped from behind them, standing between Lash and Speed.

"You guys are involved in this too? Why am I not surprised?" Will asked, glaring.

"Go take care of Gwen," Warren said darkly, "we'll handle these bitches."

With one last despairing look at Layla, Will ran off, straight through a wall.

Lash reached out, grabbing Magenta by the throat. "Hey there little rat. Hard to transform now, huh? Worthless. You shouldn't have even been allowed into this school."

"Maj!" Zach yelped, reaching out, catching her when Lash let her go. He pulled her back into the air vent, and Layla could hear her gasps and wheezes, and Zach trying to take care of her.

Warren took off his jacket and flamed up instantly. Speed rushed past him and Warren took off, still blazing.

Penny duplicated and came after Layla. She barely had time to see Warren turning the corner and Ethan being grabbed before she branched off into another hallway, her heels clicking on the floor.

Layla burst through the double doors, into the cafeteria.

"Come on, you little sidekick slut," Penny taunted, "aren't ya gonna fight back?"

Layla turned around, pressed against the big glass windows now. "I don't believe in using my powers for violence," she said as calmly as she could managed.

She hoped Warren was alright. She remembered the way Speed had cut off his air supply during Save The Citizen, and fear gripped her.

"I don't believe you even have any powers," Penny smirked.

And then she hit her, right across the mouth. The side of Layla's face erupted in pain as her neck twisted harshly to the side.

"Ha," Penny said cutely, spitefully.

"Big mistake, bitch," Layla said, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth. It matched her dress.

She felt her powers inside her, lying in wait, and she tapped into them, remembering the forests she'd grown outside her house, the gardens that rivaled royalty's. This was just like that, only anger and not peaceful, creative imagination was fueling her now.

She reached for the ivy outside the windows, felt them grow and coil, and raised her hands up to direct them.

Penny actually stepped back.

A few seconds later, and the enlarged, strengthened vines burst through the windows. Glass shattered and rained down on Layla, cutting into her back and shoulders and legs. They wrapped around each of the Pennys, and tightened until they could barely breathe, out long move.

"I thought you were a sidekick!" One of them called out.

Layla smiled. "I am a sidekick."

She started to turn, to walk away, go find Warren, when another Penny called out, "Don't leave us here to die!"

Layla turned back around.

"Royal Pain is sabotaging the antigravity device!"

"The whole school is going to fall out of the sky!"

"We only have ten minutes!"

Way to totally keep the plan a secret, mutant Barbie.

Layla raced through the halls, ignoring the sting of the glass.

Warren met her back where the halls conjoined, and she raced to him, holding him tight against her. He was safe.

"Hey," he breathed, kissing her and simultaneously picking glass out of her hair and brushing it off her shoulders.

"Come on, there's no time for that. We need to get to Principal Powers' office," Layla grabbed his hand and drug him along behind her.

"What, why?"

"Because we need a map to the antigravity device. Royal Pain sabotaged it, we have ten minutes until we start falling." She summarized.

He started to run.

They hit the door head-on, Warren blasting right through it. They scourged the cabinets and finally found what they were looking for- the internal map of the school.

They found Ethan, and ran back to the vent together. "Zach, Maj!"

They crawled, out, Magenta still seeming shaken. Layla explained once again and laid the map out on the floor.

Warren leaned against the wall, keeping watch, while they tried to come up with a plan.

"Here's the antigravity room," Layla pointed.

"Didn't Royal Pain seal off every route?" Magenta pointed out.

"Hey, what about this?" Ethan pointed.

Zach snorted. "Yeah right, you'd have to be like a rat to fit in there."

Everyone instantly looked at Magenta. She winced and averted her gaze. "Don't use that word."

Zach's eyes widened in understanding and he reached out, drew her to him, kissed her on the forehead. "C'mon, Maj, You're the only one who can do this."

After a moment's hesitation (a moment they didn't have) she nodded.

They'd left Ethan and Zach to direct Magenta, and were trying to find Royal Pain and Will. As much of a jerk as he'd been, he still probably needed help fighting her, and Layla and Warren were the strongest (and only) two.

They followed the sound of fighting back to the gym, which was now empty of people and barricades.

"Will!" Layla called, finding him hovering over top of Gwen/Royal Pain. Had he already won?

Royal Pain repowered and hit him hard, sending him crashing through a window.

Seeing her best friend since first grade go hurtling to his death sent a bolt of terror and grief through Layla. No matter how mad she was at him, she still cared. "No!"

Royal Pain turned around, probably smirking under that stupid helmet. "And there goes your last chance at stopping me."

"We'll see about that," Layla snarled, taking several enraged steps forward. Warren held her back, and she stopped dead when she saw Will outside the window, in midair.

"Surprised?" He called. "Yeah, so am I."

"You're flying?" Royal Pain gasped. "That's impossible."

Will surged forward, grabbing her and carrying her upwards, then dropping her and hitting her as hard as she'd struck him.

Her helmet went flying off and she laid motionless.

For a beat everything was still, and then Will was rushing towards Layla and grabbing her in a bone crushing hug and she didn't protest because a part of him was still her friend and he was alive and Warren was awkwardly clapping him on the back while pulling Layla away-

Layla's stomach and heart dropped and her knees buckled when the floor dropped out from under her.

She shrieked and grabbed onto to Warren, holding tight. "The school is falling!"

"Oh God, if we make it out of this I'm gonna kill Magenta," Warren groaned, gathering Layla to him as best he could.

They could hear Ethan and Zach screaming out in the hall, and Layla felt a scream of her own rising in her own throat-

Just like that, Will was gone.

Layla clutched at Warren, wishing the horrible free-fall-feeling deep inside her would go away.

"Warren," she cried, a sob escaping her. She was more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life.

What if they hit the ground and they all died? What if this was it?

He gritted his teeth and held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

And just like that, it was over.

They stopped falling.

Slowly, they started rising. It was almost the same feeling as when you're on the freeway and a big truck goes past, making you feel like you're going backwards.

Black spots danced in front of Layla's vision.

"Oh my God," she whimpered.

"Holy fucking shit, mother of Jesus," Warren gasped, shaking.

Layla was trembling so hard she was practically vibrating.

They laid there on the floor together, until the school stopped moving.

Then Ethan, Zach, and Magenta came running in.

"Took you fucking long enough!" Warren yelled.

"I'm sorry!" Magenta squeaked, her cheeks stained with runny mascara, and Warren softened.

Layla jumped up on legs that felt like jelly and hugged Maj, the two rocking back and forth.

Will came flying back in. "Ron Wilson needs us, but first we should probably take care of Royal Pain and her posse."

They decided to put them all in the detention room until Principal Powers was back to herself and could decide what to do.

They unloaded all the babies, and then stood around awkwardly.

"Um… Now what?" Layla asked.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," a small voice piped up.

When the science teacher was through explaining, and several people had been returned to their appropriate ages, and Principal Powers was once again the picture of decorum and order, the group stood huddled together, not entirely sure of what to do with themselves.

It had been a long night.

Layla was curled up on Warren's lap. He'd went to the nurse's station to get some Band-Aids and cream for her cuts, and was now patching her up.

"Best doctor ever," she purred against his lips and he grinned.

He stroked her bare thigh absently, sending tingles through her worn-out body.

Zach was holding hands with Magenta, and they were whispering quietly. Ethan was emerging from the de-Pacifying line and looking for another baby.

"I think this belongs to the real heroes," Jetstream suddenly said, and handed the fake trophy down to Layla.

Ethan and Zach grinned, putting their hands on it. Magenta stuck out her finger. Warren just shrugged and kissed Layla on the lips gently.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and he sucked on her upper lip a little before releasing her. She relaxed against him.

"Whatever your teaching them, keep teaching…them…it." The Commander advised Mr. Boy. Jetstream gave him a kiss on the cheek and he flushed crimson.

Will seemed amused, and settled down between Ethan and Zach.

After everyone was back to normal, Principal Powers called all the students and faculty back into the gym. "I think it's only fair we let the students continue their night! School will be out all of next week, however; we need to make repairs."

The assembled teenagers cheered.

The group looked at each other, standing in the back corner. "I really just wanna get out of here," Magenta muttered.

"Me too," Layla nodded.

"I've had enough excitement to last me a long time!" Ethan yawned, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I don't wanna leave you alone," Warren frowned, brushing a curl off of Layla's neck.

"I don't want to leave any of you guys," Zach said.

"I have an idea." Will said. "Layla, is your mom still up for hosting sleepovers?"

Layla smiled slowly. "I think so."

"Hang on," Will held up a finger and then went to his parents. After a few minutes of talking, he came back. "They said they could call all of our parents. They don't think we should be split up after everything that's happened tonight, either."

Looked like they were getting the band back together.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. Layla was tucked safely underneath Warren's arm, Magenta pressed into her other side. All six of them had slept in the Williams' living room floor, among a mess of a million blankets and pillows.

All the parents had congregated late last night, bringing pajamas and clothes and making sure their kids really were alright. A big barbecue was planned for tonight. Everyone got along smashingly, even Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold and Warren's mom.

Layla's mother was delighted to have a houseful of teens. She was nurturing by nature, and couldn't wait to get to know everyone.

Layla's father had studied Warren intensely and then warned him that if he stepped a toe out of line, he would regret it; Layla had cracked up at the thought of her sweet father threatening someone.

Warren hadn't seem as amused.

Layla and Warren bowed out of the barbecue early that night, escaping on his bike. They went back to his empty house, kissing their way from the driveway to the living room.

Layla's knees pressed into the couch and she leaned against it, allowing his tongue into her mouth, sliding his shirt up and over.

Things were never meant to be slow with the two of them.

Not when they got going like this.

She sighed and traced every contour of his chest with her fingers, down to his stomach, over his arms. He shuddered underneath her.

"I love you," he whispered raggedly.

"I love you," she breathed back, looking up at him in wonder.

If someone had told her a few months ago that this is what she'd be doing and saying to Warren Peace she'd have laughed in their face. Now there was nowhere else she'd rather be in the entire world.

His fingers slid up under her shirt, teasing around her belly button. She moaned and arched her back, kissing down his neck, across his collar bone.

His hand found her butt, squeezed once, then hiked her leg over his hip. She sighed before bringing her mouth back to his.

He picked her up and carried her upstairs to his room. Her shirt got lost somewhere, and then her jeans, and suddenly there was nothing but skin on skin, delicious touches and moans and friction and pleading and ecstasy and pain and declarations of love and tiny bursts of flame moving up and down their entwined bodies.

Outside, the flowers bloomed larger and more stunning than they ever had before.

Layla Williams loved to love Warren Peace.

Fin

[korvidian]

Watched 'I Saw the TV Glow' last night and tbh... I was not impressed?

Spoilers below the cut.

I have, of course, seen posts going around talking about the movie and the plot points and character interactions, and I am fully convinced that some people have hallucinated a bunch of things that simply Were Not There.

Throughout the film-- and I was honestly quite keen for this movie! The hype had excited me!-- I kept finding myself disappointed every time it fell flat.

It felt like the movie, in trying to be subtle, refused to give its audience anything. They had one scene with a tiny jumpscare with a monster, some frankly awkward looking dances from the villains' sidekicks, and the villain himself had so little screen time or presence he might as well have not appeared.

This movie seemed far more interested in its own aesthetics than anything of substance, and it was not, in any fashion I can tell, trying to make some kind of social commentary about that.

The face to camera telling of so many of the events, of saying how good The Pink Opaque was, without showing more than a handful of scenes, the complete lack of... any real character interactions? It just felt amateurishly trite.

The whole thing gave me the vibe of someone's Year 11 end of year English writing project that honestly would have made a better epistolary novel than a movie, where a teacher gave it a really good grade because it was vaguely edgy and desperate for approval, and then the director/screenwriter did not like... edit it in any way.

It did not feel like Owen and Maddy had any actual friendship or closeness despite the textual 'tell don't show' relationship they're meant to embody through their on-screen personas. They had Justice Smith catatonic for 90% of the movie, like I could see points where it seemed like he desperately wanted to portray literally anything beyond that one screaming scene at the end, and the director made him pull back until you'd have to use an electron microscope to see any action from him whatsoever.

There was no development of the relationship with the mother-- one of the few people who seemed like she cared about Owen-- or even the father, who was relegated to like four lines and mostly sitting out of frame watching television until he too was killed off in a summary skip with no real sense of... any emotional change from Owen?

There was one fragment of a scene with him in a dress, just for those poor audience members who weren't quite sure what the movie was haphazardly trying to go for. And a brief Phoebe Bridgers cameo and another a cool queer artist whose name I don't remember right now but whose song just dragged on in the scene and felt supremely out of place.

There was no exploration of the sense of repressed gender or expression from Owen beyond the small smile in the dress in the mirror, no bit where Maddy's return and taking him to a queer club opens up some of that potential for happiness or just life that Owen could have if he accepted himself and made any positive changes in his life for himself? Even if they had decided to have him decide it was too frightening/dangerous to explore that part of himself further it would have been something.

Owen somehow managed to get a wife and start a family and we see literally nothing of them, even if it was meant to be a 'ohhh the luna juice just made you think you have a family!! they weren't real!!' give the audience like... anything about them beyond a single line so they might actually feel some sense of horror for those made up relationships that maybe also brought Owen a sense of happiness but feeling removed from who he ~truly is~ or, again, any message at all. We get nothing.

No sense at all that like... the 'safe', 'closeted', 'repressed' life/death Owen chooses is worth it to him vs the dangers in the tv show, the representation of that 'true life' he isn't brave enough or ready enough to face.

The plot felt as starved for air as Justice Smith's death rattle asthma cough in the last part of the movie.

Anyone who said that this was a 'love letter to being obsessed over media' has never been obsessed over media and is, moreover, someone I don't think actually watched this film. The movie betrays this sense that the media was profound to the characters by instead revealing The Pink Opaque was actually horribly trite and terrible and does nothing to say that this was fabricated or a deliberate attempt by Mr Melancholy or Owen's subconscious to say that the thing that was his lifeline/way into a better and more fulfilling and exciting life/possible way to avoid the implied death/egodeath of his inner self.

It really seems to laugh at its audience and the idea that media you were obsessed with as a teen could actually be good, even if the effects end up dated and the acting a bit stiff, but there should still be something there.

I would even have liked it if they had decided to portray the horror of watching two people spiralling into a shared delusion, with Maddy desperately pulling Owen into their Bridge to Terabithia-esque wonderworld of maladaptive daydreaming and excitement and attempts to express and explore themselves they couldn't get in Suburban Whereverthefuck. Like, have the burial attempt to 'go back to the show' be real and don't undercut it and just say 'oh I never saw Maddy again' and have that... just not really come up again at all??

Not enough media portrays the insane hyper detailed world-building codependency and shared mythology of two repressed teens, and the highs and lows that come with that dynamic.

I don't think I came into this movie with expectations that were too high, but I think by coming to this movie with any kind of expectation of... something? was its downfall.

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Too many Binghe haters jumping into the askbox so I'm here to represent Binghe lovers.

Luo Binghe is a fun, interesting character who suffers a lot from shallow readings. Which is ironic considering the main source of tension in his relationship with Shen Qingqiu, the MC - who is originally a reader of the novel in which Luo Binghe is the protagonist - is that Shen Qingqiu keeps reading him shallowly / expecting him to act according to some or other character archetype, and thus misses that Binghe is a complex person with his own rich inner world. Basically it's meta-commentary on how readers do a disservice to characters by oversimplifying them to just a few traits and/or their role in the story (SVSSS in general is super meta) but unfortunately not a few ppl read the novel and fell into those same trappings ^^"

It also doesn't help that Shen Qingqiu is an unreliable af narrator, which leads to some people insisting that Luo Binghe forced him into a relationship or is manipulating him or w/e... This is about a guy who waxes poetics about Luo Binghe's unparalleled beauty every time he lays eyes on him. Like cmon, he just has a lot of internalized homophobia and shame to work through, give him a break!! And the so-called 'manipulation' is half the time Luo Binghe looking vaguely disappointed and Shen Qingqiu going "wow! I cannot believe the most beautiful man in the world whom i love so much that i died for him twice and whom im dating is making me have sex with him! Luo Binghe sure is a master of emotional manipulation!" and other half the time Luo Binghe super obviously whining for attention which - canonically, its in the text - makes it easier for Shen Qingqiu to be honest with him.

But enough salt; reasons why Binghe is a top blorbo go:

The narrative (which btw is a real force in this world) is trying to make him into an iron-fist Ruler Of Everything but his greatest aspiration in life is to be a househusband.

Was supposed to be a protagonist of an uber-straight harem novel but threw heterosexuality out the window within 3 interactions with MC. 

His love language is cooking! It's adorable but it'll also hurt u. (Binghe kept making three meals a day for Shen Qingqiu during the five years the latter was dead :) )

A big part of his arc is about learning to be vulnerable and show his sensitive side. (In general, one of the novel's major themes is toxic masculinity and how it harms ppl; I just particularly like how its explored with Binghe.)

A Good Boy (has been going through a corruption arc for 2/3rds of the novel yet it still took a cursed sword controlling his mind for him to start acting like the OG) 

Lotsa delicious fridge horror around him being the narrative's favorite chew toy. Things only ever get worse for him and reality will warp itself to deny him a chance to heal while the story is in progress, because he has a Role and that role is ‘a villainous protagonist’.

But also u get to cry about how he was saved in the end by the power of just one reader loving him and wanting better for him. (SVSSS is also a love letter to fandom/fanworks okay :] ) 

Very powerful but also a nervous wreck. Tripped and fell flat on his face when proposing to his boyfriend.

Just in general him being clingy and whiny and a mess is mega cute (me 🤝 Shen Qingqiu) 

This makes for a great contrast with him being a super OP nigh-unkillable demon lord btw. He could drown the world in blood but he's too busy crying Ghibli tears in his man’s lap. 

Also I need to mention he's extremely funny about being nigh-unkillable too. Like, *gets injured* Shen Qingqiu: "We can have sex once u r better 😔" Luo Binghe: *popping broken limbs back into place*: "I'm better! :D" 

Has a praise kink AND a masochistic streak. Apparently when Shen Qingqiu praises him and pats his head it's exciting, but when Shen Qingqiu scolds him and hits him that's also exciting. 

Has the peak character design detail in the form of a demon mark on his forehead. Built-in kissies target 🥰 Also when fanartists draw it in different shapes to represent his mood? Absolutely delightful 100/10 no notes <3

Why do I feel like this man has Kenergy

[noahsbookhoard]

📚March 2024 Book Review (Part 2/2)📚

Last post for March and there is only good and really really good books here!

The Tragedy of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Shakespeare famous telling of Julius Caesar's last days, the conspiration against him and the aftermath of his assassination.

In honor of the Ides of March I finally read Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. It's always fun reading a new Shakespeare play as someone who didn't grew up in an Anglo-Saxon culture: every time you fall on one quote and get to say "oh, THAT'S where the idiom comes from!". The fault in our stars, e tu brute... I didn't know they were Shakespeare's before (growing up I've always heard Caesar's last words being "Tu quoque fili" (you as well my son) and that's apparently from a 18th century biography)

Overall it's a good play although it's not my favourite. I especially love Mark Anthony's funeral speech (it is well know for a good reason). Plays are always best appreciated live so if anyone knows a good scene or film adaptation I'd love to see it!

Veiller sur elle by Jean-Baptiste Andrea

Mimo (short for Michelangelo) is a poor yet extremely talented sculptor, Viola is the clever and adventurous daughter of the rich Orsini family. These two that nothing destined to meet will quickly become the closest friends, but this friendship is put to test with the rise of Mussolini.

Mandatory French literature read and second book of my adventures in Goncourt land! This one is a total succes and I'm glad I finally picked it up after glaring at the red "Prix Goncourt 2023" dustsleeve as if it might bite. I was also hesitant because of the period: WWII and fascism can be very interesting themes to explore in a novel but I read one too many where it was token-ish and just a convenient setting. Nevertheless I read very few book about Italy under Mussolini so I gave it a go.

From page one the style took my breath away. It's funny (he describes coming back to Italy as "Welcoming it with open arms" before clarifying that he tripped getting off the train and fell flat, face first on the platform, the image stuck with me) and it's tender, it's hard sometimes but Mimo's life is and it doesn't sugarcoat it.

This is the story of two souls that were meant to met but found each other and never let go. Mimo and Viola can lose contact for years and meet back again as if the saw each other yesterday. There's nothing they can't forgive the other, no matter how terrible. And they will do and say some truly awful things to each other because they are trying to adjust to a world that grows faster and madder every day. But in the end the two friends will always be there for each other, looking after ("veiller sur" in french) each other. It felt like reading about my best friend and me sometimes, it was touching. I appreciated that it never ever was even a mention of romantic feelings between Mimo and Viola, to me it made all the tenderness and softness between them even more endearing that there was no ambiguity in it.

The story is told in alternate between Mimo as an old man dying in a monastery and Mimo as a child then a young man, both are in Mimo's point of view. There is a mystery of sort, too: when the sculptor moved in the monastery he asked specifically to be near her. And this feminine figure is shrouded in secrecy, no one can see her, only the abbot has the key, because she is said to turn people mad. As the story unfolds there are more hints but never any physical description, up until the very end and a really good twist that pulls together the past and present memories of Mimo. I felt like I should have seen it coming. I might have cried a bit too.

A huge book crush, I am currently lobbying at home to have my sister and mother read it. And I hope it gets translated because I want so hard people to enjoy that book as much as I did.

All System Red (Murderbot Diaries #1) by Martha Wells

The diary of a Security Unit Cyborg who overrode its programming and preferes watching soap operas to working. However the scientifc expedition it is assigned to is attacked Murderbot, as it calls itself, will have to involve itself more than it wishes to.

Another serie I started because Tumblr was gushing over it. Also I wanted to get into SciFi which isn't a genre I read much of as a kid. I like my alien and spaceship on TV so there were no reason I wouldn't enjoy it on paper!

In this future projects are handed to the lowest bidder and lowering security is a good way of driving cost down. I could definitely picture it, that's basically how they handle infrastructure and equipment repair at my job! The future is beautiful...

Murderbot is really relatable. I too would love to slack off at work watching series and just checking that things are not going to hell (more than usual) once in a while. It has an interesting balance between the disinterested SecUnit with professional detachment but and the Cyborg who unlocked the emotions its programming had locked down. The awkwardness of the relationship with the human crew was really funny.

I was expecting a full length novel not a novella (my fault entirely for doing my research) so the plot felt very quick. I'll be adjusting my expectations for book 2.

I enjoyed it, it has some really cool character, good world building. I think I missed what everybody found so brilliant about it, and that's definitely on me since this book and several others in the saga where finalist or won the Hugo and Nebula. I'll probably read the next book, as of the time of writing this post it is on the TBR.

The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fischer by E M Anderson

83 year old Edna Fischer is as surprised as anybody when a wizard comes to her nursing home with an announcement: Edna is the Chosen One, the woman who will save the Kights from the dangerous Sorcerer who rages for months in the land. Armed with her knitting needle and her cane, she will have to face this fight and maybe find it is not so black and white as she thought.

I was drawn to this book for this prompt alone: the Chosen One is not another teenager, it is an old woman in flowery dress and knitted cardigan. This was nothing I had ever read, although there is among the cast of character ye old smart mouth 17 year old. I was also surprised to find it was more of an urban fantasy that the traditional medieval setting but if your hero is an octogenarian you might as well have her fight dragons in a city!

I really liked all the little twists on the genre's cliché: those I had as a reader (the Sword of Destiny, the Big Final Fight...) and those other characters had that helped the main cast (or sometimes caused them more trouble).

Edna was believable as an old woman, healthy but with the difficulty of old age. She is kind, patient, compationate. I would have wanted her as a grandma. Yet she is also determined and won't let people walk on her toes. There is some good ideas to circumvent those mobility issue (Edna would NOT have been able to trek and sleep in camps) that makes also for some very nice companions and side quests.

Some elements were somewhat predictable but still deeply enjoyable. I especially liked that there was some chapter with the Sorcerer's point of view, which isn't usual in this type of novel. It really sets everything up for the ending (i won't say more than that.)

In conclusion a really good read, a nice twist on a genre and the chance to picture YOUR granny fighting a dragon (there is a physical description of Edna but I couldn't help imagining my own grandmother). I think the author is on tumblr? At least that's where I first heard of thos book. If I can find the url I'll add it here.

[mhaynoot]

no one asked but one of my favourite josei novels I Am This Type of Woman by Yue Xia Die Ying just updated and the latest chapter had my heart fluttering like mad like holy fuck i love how the author always creates these heroic main characters but ban hua is just a step above and spectacularly written and endearing

ban hua is just so charming and true to herself and it is just so fucking hot okay. move aside ml, i'll take ban hua's hand in marriage at any time!! plus her entire family is so adorable and hilarious. i think the younger brother is one of the sweetest and funniest side character i've ever read. but i always adore the side characters the author creates in general.

this is one of the author's sweeter novels and the ml is full "fell in love first" and genuinely at that. him getting twisted all around ban hua's lil fingers and falling flat on his face when trying to charm her is one of the funniest things i've read in so long but its so true

[whitherwanderer]

14 // clear

This was a stupid idea, Sif realized somewhere between a shifting rock under her foot and another that felt like it was cutting into her hand as she held onto it. Not that she'd die if she fell, but it would hurt like hells and put her off of trying this again, and the whole point was to push herself a little. What did she expect? The walls of her comfort to give easily as she went and clumsily clambered up a godsdamned mountain?

She groaned to herself and grit her teeth as she found better footing. It had been a long trudge up to the peak already, but the peak itself was the hardest bit yet—a short scramble up a stack of weather-worn stones, and also exactly where she wanted to be. That is, that’s where he would be, if he was the one up here on this dumb-arse mountain, climbing this dumb-arse rock. But she was here and it was too late for regrets.

She hauled herself up slowly, one step at a time. Getting herself up onto one rock meant taking a few minutes to examine the next step, standing there with her hands on her hips as she squinted up into the sun. In truth, she just needed to catch her breath. She had all day and no one to buzz in her ear about how slow she was, so she took her sweet time. She certainly wasn’t as strong as she used to be, but she still had a sense of balance and focus on each placement of her foot, her hands, the shift of her weight. An odd sense of calm about it all. Eventually, she’d pulled herself to the top and rolled across it, lying flat across her back and staring into the empty sky with her heart in her ears, and even dared to feel something like accomplishment as she breathed a weary laugh.

Sitting up to admire the view and let the dizziness fade, the hush of the land washed over. Naught but a few distant bird calls, the breeze through the shrubs, and her thoughts to keep her company. So this is what he was after. This soul-drenching quiet that seemed in rare supply beneath a certain altitude. Normally she detested the quiet, but it made a certain amount of sense—she realized that at some point, she’d become so focused on the path that everything else in her mind was less important. All that mattered was the moment, keeping one foot in front of the other and being aware of her surroundings. The small stresses of her daily life and the larger worries that haunted her along her every road were still there, but they were held back somehow. Unable to make the climb? Perhaps he was onto something.

Her hand slipped into her pocket to produce a sharp obsidian stone, one half of a whole, which she rolled between her fingers in some meditative motion that was as comforting as it was strange to her. Glittering black on its face in the daylight, but still managing that odd glimmer from within, like something held in a prison of amber. Not wholly untrue, she mused. The thing contained more than skill and memory now, and if she focused hard enough, she could sense it: the murky, black chill of fear, worry, injury. But also the warmth brush of contentedness, confidence, even a touch of thrill.

She’d never had one of these before, and she’d argue she still didn’t, but it was novel to feel a visceral connection to something. Bound much more than by simple words, as it was bluntly put, though she’d learned that was a grave understatement. Splinters of memories, the vague outlines of things that may or may not have happened—notions, rather than actual events—were ghosts they now shared. It was their choice to untangle them, decode them, reconcile with them, or do nothing and remain haunted in this way, by shadows of the other. For now, they had chosen the latter. The wound was still fresh; looking at the stone still felt like failure, even though she’d arguably saved the man’s damned life again.

She supposed that’s why she was up here at all, admiring the view and turning her half of the stone in her hands. Not for answers, but to escape the noise so that she could sift through sand to pick through some kernels of truth. Reading the landscape like tea leaves for hints instead of sure facts. Unbothered by the pettier demons that harried her through the day.

He’d said once that he found clarity up on his perches, and she thought she understood what he meant at the time, but now she suspected it was another one of his many ironies. It was easier to think, yes. But clear? Was anything ever clear?

She sat there for a while, turning the stone and contemplating their lot without any real conclusions. It would feel pointless if she’d stumbled all the way up with nothing to show for it, but perhaps the uninterrupted focus was its own reward. The revelations were reserved for those nights when neither could sleep and the whiskey had worn off just enough for her to feel that raw spot where she was still trying to strike matches to keep her ego humming along. Real conversation. The worst kind. Still, maybe this counted as a step in the right direction. A something where she’d before she'd have nothing.

She peeked over the rock with a sigh. That was assuming she could get down.

[amostimprobabledream]

My thoughts on the new Matilda movie musical

Yeah, I’m gonna get this out of the way - I am extremely biased because I grew up on the OG Matilda with Mara Wilson. It’s one of my comfort movies, so I was likely to be critical of this. However I’m also a fan of the musical and Tim Minchin in general, so I was willing to give it a shot. Overall? The Mara Wilson version is the absolute superior movie. The musical is somewhat more true to the book (except the bullshit with Miss Honey’s parents), but there’s something very overly-produced and rushed about this new version. I liked most of the songs, but they felt a lot faster than the songs on the musical soundtrack and it gave the movie this weird pacing issue where it was both slow, with its overindulgent dream sequences, and incredibly rapid-paced with how quickly it jumps from plot points and the songs are sped up. “Bruce” was my favourite of the musical numbers but I don’t like that Bruce was downgraded into being Matilda’s age instead of a child a few years older. It doesn’t really feel like a cohesive story so much as a bunch of fantastical set pieces linked together. And while the actress who played her was a good singer, I couldn’t help but find this Matilda kind of unlikeable? There aren’t many scenes where she’s interacting with the kids the way an actual kid would, like in the OG movie and the book where there’s a long scene with her and Lavender as Hortensia explains the ins and outs of Cruncham Hall to them - instead we get a musical number of the kids singing about how tough the school is. Most of her scenes involve her yelling at the adults around her or singing about how unfair her life is. Also, she kept purposefully defying Trunchbull (lying about that kid having narcolepsy, trying to defend Bruce, etc) but Trunchbull never really does anything to her for it aside from vaguely promising to punish her “late”. Like when she shoves Bruce in the Chokey, why not come back and do something to Matilda? (Also Miss Honey’s aghast at Bruce being put in the Chokey because “he’s too young!” but like...putting a child in the Chokey at all is cruel and unusual so what weird complaint? The way she says it makes it sound like she’d be fine with it if he was a nine year old.) Like in the OG movie, she locked Matilda in the chokey just because her dad sold her a shitty car, tries to have her locked away when she figures out Matilda was at her house and blames Matilda for the glass spilling even though she was sitting at her desk. The movie tried to get you to feel sorry for her by giving Mr and Mrs Wormwood moments where they mistreat her, but it just fell kinda flat for me, especially since the Wormwoods came across like they were doing another movie offscreen. (I also found it weird they cut Matilda’s older brother Mikey.) This Matilda just comes off like a bossy little showoff and the actress’s habit of shrieking half her lines didn’t help - I think it’s obvious she’s more used to acting onstage where you have to project your face than in a movie.

I don’t have much to say about the other kids because they barely seemed to be in the movie - Hortensia got changed to a weird kid with a beret and I don’t think anybody even spoke her name onscreen, Lavender became “the newt kid” and more like Matilda’s secretary than her best friend and Bruce got that one song and went right back to being irrelevant again. Emma Thompson was easily the best part of the movie, she was clearly having an absolute blast playing Miss Trunchbull and they included some scenes that were in the original novel, like picking a boy up by his ears, but I’m sorry - Pam Farris’s Trunchbull would have utterly destroyed Thompson’s. She’s played way more for comedy and her defeat is a lot more anticlimactic and cartoony.

Miss Honey is a massive downgrade from the original. The actress had a good singing voice, but Miss Honey in this is a soggy pile of lettuce. She spends the entire movie stuttering and quailing and makes very limp attempts at protecting the kids and overall it’s easy to completely forget she’s in a scene. The OG Miss Honey had a dark past that caused her great pain, but “she did not allow it to interfere with her teaching” and she makes much more of an effort to be proactive in her children’s lives - including when she goes to Matilda’s house and tells off her parents directly. This one was just so bland and two-dimensional and she just spends like every scene with this annoying timid smile on her face. I also found it weird Matilda happened to tell a story that was exactly what happened to Miss Honey’s parents - does she have clairvoyance in this version as well and she can see the backstory of her future adopted mother? Also, with how the character of Ms. Phelps suddenly became like a major supporting character, why didn’t Ms. Phelps just adopt Matilda? It seemed very weird to me Matilda spends all this time with another adult who isn’t Miss Honey and she never gets suspicious about why this kid doesn’t appear to have any friends or why she’s never met her parents - also, why did Matilda keep lying to Ms. Phelps about having shitty parents? She’s fine with outright confronting her parents over her father’s dirty business dealings and outright defying the Trunchbull, but she can’t tell the one adult she actually trusts the truth about what’s going on? Ms. Phelps didn’t seem to have much of a life outside of driving her library van around and listening to Matilda’s story, so it seemed off they put so much focus on her. Matilda’s bond with Miss Honey also suffered greatly in comparison to the book and OG movie and we didn’t even have the scene where she officially has her adoption papers signed by the Wormwoods. If it was that easy for Matilda to leave, why didn’t she just ask Ms. Phelps if she could live with her before the movie started? Why keep lying? Also I found it interesting that every mean/abusive adult was white but every “sympathetic” adult had been raceswapped. I don’t think the filmmakers bothered to stop and consider how problematic that is, but this post is already getting pretty long so that’s as much as I’m going to say. All in all, I regret paying money to see it. Again, Tim Minchin’s songs were the best bit but the whole movie just felt like it was trying to distract you from the weak storytelling with flashy set pieces and overly-saturated colours. (Also what the fuck was that bit right at the end where Crunchem Hall has a fairground built on the playground? Like yeah, I’m sure kids will really want to focus on learning when there’s a fucking ferris wheel and helter skelter outside!)

[world-literatures]

just read: The Dry by Jane Harper

Suspenseful and gripping - I sped through this book. One of the highlights was definitely the setting in the remote Australian bush. Having lived in the wheatbelt of Australia, I definitely recognised these people and this oppressive feeling which lingers over the towns and its residents. There is two mysteries in this novel, one from the present and one from the past and I felt the author did a great job weaving the various storylines and timelines together.

However, the final third of this book fell flat for me. First, I thought it began to drag around the 50-75% mark. I also did not like the way in which the author chose to end this. Without giving too much away - my preference in mysteries is always that the clues given come together in a surprising and interesting way, not that a third unforeseen option comes to light to solve the mystery.

That said, this was an entertaining novel and I would consider picking up the sequels.

genres: mystery, thriller

translator:  nil

rating: ★★★

themes: rural living, abuse, childhood friendship, love and family

A small town hides big secrets in this atmospheric, page-turning debut mystery by award-winning author Jane Harper.

In the grip of the worst drought in a century, the farming community of Kiewarra is facing life and death choices daily when three members of a local family are found brutally slain. Federal Police investigator Aaron Falk reluctantly returns to his hometown for the funeral of his childhood friend, loath to face the townsfolk who turned their backs on him twenty years earlier. But as questions mount, Falk is forced to probe deeper into the deaths of the Hadler family. Because Falk and Luke Hadler shared a secret. A secret Falk thought was long buried. A secret Luke's death now threatens

[skyllion-uwu]

Being a YIIKer is so hard because it failed really bad at what it was trying to do that the majority of people just go "bad game" without examining it as a novel because really that's how it was written, but the people who do like it see it without flaw and get mad when you point out that the execution fell flat on its face. YIIK is a multi layered experience of "everything about this sucks" that you have to pluck apart and reform in order to get what it's trying to say which makes you go "OH I get it now". It has a lot of cool ideas but the game requires you to sit down and analyze its story to bits in order to get it instead of most games where it's incorporated into gameplay and cutscenes outright. Alex YIIK is a liar. He is telling you the story and that's why everyone forgives him for his actions and it gets disjointed. Because he's trying to paint himself as a hero for you. But if you say "hey this could've been incorporated in the story better" other YIIK fans accuse you of not actually getting it. I did get it. It would work a million times better as a novel because the way it's written doesn't mesh with the execution of being a video game and thus the average person's expectations aren't met and they go "it's bad". Does this make sense? I dunno I just saw a post where OP made fun of YIIK and people in the comments ripped them apart but also acted like YIIK is flawless

[angelfoodcake222]

The Lesser of Two Evils [pt. 2/?]

HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoy this & please reblog. Thank you!

[Above] Gif/Art by Clownillustrations

TW(Trigger Warning): female puppet reader, talk of murder, metamorphic aftermath & descriptions, scopophobia(-philia), fictophilia, paraphilia, & xanthophilia(-phobia).

A/N(Author's Note): This one's just a drabble & longer than the last one, but I hope you enjoy it. I focused a bit on Home's involvement in you're shaping... & I wanted to gush over 30s/70s fashion for at least a paragraph. Read on if you'd like.

Light stabbed your revivified eyes as you strained to shield your hand over them, but your appendage & its limb fell flat over your lower belly. The sound of shutters closing gave you shaded comfort. For lack of better words, your vision was fuzzy at first. You regained consciousness, submerged neck down in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water with a fluffy towel embroidered with "W.D." in coiling font folded behind your head. It took you a few winks to clear your vision but once you did, you thought you were still dreaming of your transformation.

Upon looking down, you note your lilac body was cloaked in an orange, purple-trimmed tunic dress with slight matching details & white/amber dress heels. Not long after you awoke, Darling entered the room with a far bigger towel for your whole body. It seemed even fluffier than the one you had under your head. He sees that you're awake & grins.

"Good morning, Y/N!" He beams, dipping his finger into the water, most likely to check the temperature, while you start taking stock of your novel body: not numb but not overstimulated. Decent hues. Not too bad, if you had to say so. Your eyes float to Darling's face while a smile settled onto yours. He knows your looking at him, he likes you looking at him, he's just focused on tending to you (your recently reformed body).

Soon, he helps you out of the tub & dries you off due to a lag in mobility. Now that you're dried & (partially) standing, you get to see your brilliant orange hair being pulled mindfully into a high ponytail with the green strip of textile by your darling companion before he sets his hands on your shoulders. Your eyes looked as dreamy as his but you had magenta-hued eyeshadow instead of his reds/blues & a very faint line bordering your mouth's edge to possibly signify lips. You began toing-&-froing your head as slight glimmers of what you assumed were microscopic glitter showed nicely in the lit-up mirror's reflection of you. Wally's reflection leans to your right with a smile on his cat-like face.∆

"I hope you don't mind, my darling, but I did your makeup for you. I hope you like it." He shines well in the mirror's lights, leaving you starstruck. If he hadn't known to catch you sooner, you would have swooned straight into the sink's edge.

After wringing out any excess moisture, he begins leading you to a separate bedroom within Home. It's relatively quaint; a dresser of night clothes & intimates, a vanity mirror set that doubles as a writing desk complete with a well-padded swivel stool & pastel purple rotary phone, a twin canopy bed, in-wall bookshelves of blank sketch books/diaries, & a full-on walk-in closet full of on-theme wardrobe options.

"This room is yours!" Wally spoke gleefully, gesturing you into it with an encouraging wave. "It will evolve with you the longer you stay here! & look! Home even gave you books to work in!" His bright skin shifted into a giddy smile, the smooth voice giving a honeyed tone as you began exploring your new dwelling. As you did, Home creaked to gain Wally's attention. The filming was starting soon & he needed to finish his routines. Wally bids you a good day, turning to leave while Home gives a series of creaks that he reacts to happily while carrying on to greet the Viewer at the train/bus station.

While you wait, you root around the room curiously. You had always loved the Neighbors' style, the whole "70s Kidcore" fashion, & sought to throw something together due to your secondary-hued garbs not matching. Wally did just help you into a new form, new living arrangements, new everything, so maybe you could blend in a bit better. Easier said than done. Your fleece & yarn didn't go well with anything in the entirety of the primary-hued wardrobe, even the night clothes didn't fit your shades.

Defeated & dejected, you place everything back into its places respectfully, returned to your initial garbs & flopped onto the lush bed with the lusher beddings puffing up around you. You barely noticed the low rattling of the closet & dresser until Home tumbled Its floor to draw your awareness back to the root of your downed behavior. "Home, with all due respect, I was just in there. I can't wear any of-" your words catch in your throat. "-that."

You blink in shock, seeing a totally you-themed armoire that you excitedly dance into. Tea dresses, Whoopee-style denim bodysuits, peasant blouses, day dresses, bell bottoms, house dresses, frayed jeans, midi/maxi dresses, a kaleidoscope of tie-dyed options, tunic-type garbs, headbands, scarves, & jewelry (made of wood, stones, feathers, beads that look like eyes), fitted wide lapel blazers, flared pants, sweaters, cardigans, jumpers, numerous shoe choices from casual to formal, the whole 70s shebang.

You stood there, mouth wide open & stupefied at the expansive wardrobe Home had made especially & explicitly for you. What could you do but hug the door & its frame leading to your fashion fantasies? Home gives a seemingly happy creak, rattling Its floorboards in the direction of a wall-mounted vanity far bigger & with more makeup & hair items. Oh, yeah! This'll be fun~.

~~~~~

Wally slides behind Home's front door, bidding the viewers a good day while breathing a sigh of relief after the door clicks shut. Home cheerfully welcomes him & gets his attention, leading him up the stairs & into the doorway of [Y/N]'s room. He's confused yet trusting of the structure he's come to trust in his relatively short life. Once he reaches his destination, he was unsettled to find the room empty of his newest companion until the dual closet doors snapped open, giving you a much-obliged path for you to twirl out of.

Your high bun was held up by your bow-tied textile, orange-based peasant blouse, love beads, bracelets, a dark purple, full skirt complete with a light purple, cutesy poodle detail, frilled white socks, & the shoes you came into your new life with. You only noticed him when you stopped twirling for a second. He's just there, gazing at you.

"Home made me some new clothes." you chuckle shyly. "What do you think? Is it too much?" Your hand moves to dust off nonexistent filth from your skirt's front & sides as Wally stares on, only answering when Home gave a robust creak. The sound was most likely Its way of snapping Wally from his trance. "You look dynamite! It fits you so well!" His slightly raised vocals & bright smile are contagious, spurring you to look over your shoulder to the full-length mirror hanging within your view.

The rest of your day was spent being taught how to behave around others outside of Home's walls & Wally's gaze, should the need arise. For instance, say an episode calls for Wally to be away in the Neighborhood while you sit all alone in Home. You'd like to be out & about like any sane person/puppet. If you do leave, you'd have to change into something akin to Wally's apparel but feminine. Blouse, skirt, all that. You can keep the hair tie though. What to say, what not to say, both needed to not cause any unfavorable attention to you by anyone.

You listen intently, scribbling into one of your books you had labeled "Behavioral Know-how", as Wally speaks next to you at the kitchen table. Somehow, your pen hadn't run out of ink yet with all the writing you were doing. Wally pauses, giving a small, robotic chuckle as you lift your head with a furrowed brow. With a smooth movement, he boops your tongue's tip that had poked out in your bit of concentration.

"You're so cute like this~." Had his voice dipped? You hadn't noticed due to flustering into hour hands. Wally gives his odd laugh while you tried to recompose yourself. The sweet scene was seemingly untainted by the fact that, while the Viewers were distracted by a couple of skits that didn't feature him, Wally slithered off to handle some of those bullies from the night before.

He was still upset at the sight of you, frightened half to death, crumbled at Home's doorstep, nearly being punished for the heroic deed you had done to keep his dearest friends safe & unsullied. It made his stuffing feel like kindling & his fleece shift heatedly. Once he found the first few Home had described for his mental list, he made sure to keep out of the splatter distance when he blinked at them.

The lesson ends & Wally escorts you to your room with that warmly odd demeanor of his. You ask an extra question or two about the dos & don'ts of your new life, suppressing yawns as you did, while he patiently answered them. You were strangely eager to adapt to his life, but he couldn't be happier than right now. You were on his arm, sleepily talking of a life you wholeheartedly planned on living with him while content to be a side or background character, planning to have a building of your own to the side; something the Neighborhood doesn't have yet.

By the time the two of you reach your room, Home had somehow laid out night clothes for you. Two-piece men's set & a classy silk gown were your options. You vanish behind the privacy of your closet's doors while you tossed ideas around about the new building concept until Wally mentions the lack of blooms around the Neighborhood. You sprung from the closet, second wind shortly blasting through you, as you suggest a floral set up. "A flower shop!" you squeak excitedly. Wally laughs, amused by the sudden burst of energy, before agreeing to the idea.

You tuck yourself in, nuzzling into the warm bed as your companion strolls to your bedside with a soft smile adorning his face. "Sleep tight, [Y/N]. Tomorrow may not be your debut, but soon the time will come. Nighty night~." His vocals lull you to sleep as images of the flora-clad shop danced in your mind; brilliant blooms, radiant roses, beautiful Bergenias, & breathtaking bundles of bouquets all twirled in your dreams as sleep graced your novel form.

Not too far from the Neighborhood, somewhere in the vast studio, three men's bodies were hidden carefully so as to not be found. They lay on the grimy floor with whole halves & massive hunks 'bitten' from their bodies, taken slowly until each target passed due to blood loss or vital pieces of themselves vanishing, both sending them into shock & leaving them helpless against the beast that committed the most horrid act. Three down, eight to go...

There it is! I'll be working on pt.3/? soon! Leave your favorite blooms/herbs/plants in the comments & I'll try to fit them in somewhere.

Likes are nice, but reblogs are better!

[officialksm]

Dream Garden

Group: Xdinary Heroes Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: None About: Seungmin gets a little bit over-involved in the book he's reading.

Cast

Seungmin sipped a fresh black coffee and settled into his seat. He finally had enough free time to sit down and read a book. A book he’d found under his Christmas tree, Dream Garden. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, as he’d thanked all of his family members for the gift, yet they all denied buying it for him. Seungmin had put the book away in his room hoping its rightful owner would come and fix the mix up soon, but curiosity got the better of him and he had come to a quiet little cafe so that he could read it. This spot was his favourite to come to when he needed some alone time. This cafe was fairly unknown in the area, meaning that it was almost always empty, welcoming some much needed deep relaxation.

Fueled with caffeine, Seungmin turned the first page. The book told a tale of a whimsical land called the Dream Garden, full of mischief and wonder. It was clear from the beginning that this was no ordinary novel, with the main characters being a purple cat, a pair of air-headed twins referred to as the Nuggets, and an unusual character merely named the Host. 

Seungmin reached for his coffee cup, wanting to take another sip. He was hooked on Dream Garden, and almost couldn’t tear his eyes from the pages, but as he pulled his beverage closer, he spotted something moving in the liquid. Upon closer inspection, Seungmin found a goldfish inside his drink. He was certain that it hadn’t been there before, and began poking at the animal, just to make sure it wasn’t an apparition. Seungmin jumped back, startled as his finger met the swimming creature in the coffee, his eyes following its every move. Confused, but curious, Seungmin leaned in towards the cup, watching. He leaned in closer and closer, and closer yet until he lost his balance and fell face first into what should’ve been scalding liquid. 

Seungmin found himself falling through the coffee. The scent filled his nose and swirled all around him. Multi-coloured goldfish swam past, yellow, green, blue, orange. The black abyss looked endless and Seungmin was falling for what he thought was forever. Seungmin felt his eyes beginning to close, the sound of the fish bubbling and the aroma of the tunnel lulling him to sleep. He tried to fight it, to keep his eyes open, to remain aware of his surroundings, but his efforts went to waste.

Seungmin awakened, laying flat on his back. He rested in a bed of flowers that cushioned his fall. He couldn’t get up, however, as an animal had settled on his torso. From the angle he was looking at, it appeared to be a furry purple blob, but it was heavy and Seungmin wanted it off. He poked the blob, hoping to awaken the sleeping creature. On contact, the animal’s ears pricked up, and it began to uncurl itself, turning its face towards Seungmin. It was a cat! A purple cat. Seungmin recognised the animal straight away, “The cat from…” he whispered to himself.

The animal yawned and stretched out its body from its paws right down to its tail. Seungmin smiled softly and reached up to stroke the cat’s head, feeling honoured that it chose him as its resting place. The purple cat welcomed petting, and began to purr, kneading Seungmin gently with its paws.  “You’re a very cute cat but unfortunately, I have to get up now,” Seungmin said aloud to himself, as he tried to lift the cat off of his body. The cat didn’t seem to like this and hopped off by itself with a small yowl, freeing Seungmin and letting him sit up. Seungmin brushed down his shirt and the back of his hair, looking around at the area. 

Seungmin was sitting in the middle of a lovely meadow with colourful flowers all around him. But none of them looked like what they were supposed to. The roses were blue and the daisies were red, and the grass wasn’t green but a vibrant plum colour and the sky a pastel pink. 

“Are you ready to go now?” Asked an unfamiliar voice. The voice almost made Seungmin jump out of his skin. He was sure he had been out there alone, just him and the cat. As Seungmin turned back in the direction of the sudden voice, his gaze was met with another young man, who looked about the same age as him, the cat nowhere to be seen.  “G-go where?” Seungmin stumbled over his words, surely his mind was playing tricks on him. How could someone have approached so quickly without him knowing about it? Seungmin examined the boy in front of him. He looked familiar, though Seungmin was sure he’d never seen him before. Seungmin didn’t want to let himself think that this boy could be the cat that was asleep on him just minutes ago. 

“To the tea party, of course.” The boy laughed and reached out his hand, an offer to help Seungmin up, “Did you hit your head too hard or something?” Seungmin hesitantly took the boy’s hand and stood up beside him. Seungmin had so many questions. Where was he? What tea party? Where was the cat? And who was this boy in front of him? Deep down inside himself, Seungmin knew the answer to those questions, he just didn’t want to believe that he was right.

“I’m sorry but, who are you?” Seungmin managed out, hoping the boy wouldn’t say what he didn’t want to hear. “Ah, that’s right! You haven’t seen me like this yet.” The boy laughed, and grabbed Seungmin’s wrist, “Let’s walk and talk.”

The boy introduced himself as Jungsu and, much to Seungmin’s dismay, also as the cat from before. As if his purple hair and cat-like features didn’t already give it away. Jungsu believed that it would be rude to attend a party in the form of an animal, though he would much prefer to be in his natural body. 

The cat-boy led Seungmin through the meadow, and through a nearby stretch of trees. As the pair progressed through the small forest, they began to hear a commotion that got louder with each step. Jungsu brought Seungmin to a clearing, where a long, rectangular table was laid out with six seats, two occupied and four empty, three on one side, two on the other, and one at the head. Each seat at the table had a name embroidered into the back of it.

The head seat was occupied by a young man who at this time wasn’t saying much. He had been watching when Seungmin had arrived with Jungsu, and began smiling when Seungmin’s eyes met his. His eyes were full of kindness and his smile was pure and warm. This was the nature of he that they called the Host. The seat to the Host’s right was occupied by a boy with long black and red hair that was sprawled out across the table as he leaned, hunched over in his labelled seat, “Joo”.  Joo was asleep, mumbling words whilst dreaming, “Red, orange, yellow…”.  The seat to the Host’s left was labelled “Gaon”, but it was empty. The seat belonged to the other black and red haired boy, who was not at the table, but on it. Gaon was sitting, cross-legged on the table, filling two teapots, talking nonsenses loudly to himself, “Bananas are long, long, long…”

It seemed that the noise was solely the result of the two matching haired attendees, as the Host sat in complete silence, overseeing all. “Wild geese are still wild geese…” Gaon continued, “Green, blue, navy…” Mumbled Joo at the same time, “Even if you flip them over!”  “Purple… Rainbow…” The two continued like this, simultaneously uttering their meaningless words, one sleeping and one working. Seungmin quickly deduced that these two were the dummy Nugget twins introduced in his book.

Jungsu hastily made way to his reserved seat beside Gaon’s and sat down, motioning for Seungmin to do the same. Seungmin, however, did not have a seat with his name on it. He stood floundering, eyes looking to Jungsu and then to the Host for assistance. The Host gestured towards a seat at the end of the table on the right side, labelled “Ode”. As soon as Seungmin took Ode’s seat, the Host called for the tea party to officially begin. At the order, Gaon stood up, a teapot in either hand, and began to serve the partygoers. Gaon first crouched down and poured his own cup, but what came out of the spout didn’t look like tea. The water was clear and seemed to be frothy, like it was full of soap bubbles. 

Lacking any sense of spatial awareness, squashing cakes and snacks, and smashing cups and saucers as he went, Gaon walked down the length of the table to serve Jungsu.  “Tea or coffee?” Gaon asked with a smile, and crouched down once again to pour from the teacup in his left hand. Jungsu seemed pleased at his choice of drink, which looked like pond water full of goldfish. Goldfish! The same ones from Seungmin’s coffee back at the cafe. 

Gaon’s next stop was to Seungmin, who was seated directly across the table from Jungsu. Seungmin chose his drink, left — the same side as Jungsu — but Gaon didn’t care. Asking was just a formality, and Gaon chose to pour from whichever pot he deemed suitable for the guest. Thus, Seungmin was served a nice teacup full of bubbly water. Gaon continued past the empty seat beside Seungmin and up towards Joo.

Seungmin glanced at the seat beside him, between his and Joo’s. At first, the seat appeared empty as there was no one in it, but it wasn’t actually empty. The seat, labelled “Jun Han”, was occupied with a stack of books and atop the books was a handheld mirror, propped up as though it was a guest. Seungmin leaned over to peek in the mirror, startled to find a red-haired boy inside, huddled into himself, looking rather sad.  “Who’s that, inside the mirror?” Seungmin asked, curious as to why no one was paying the mirror boy, Jun Han, any attention. 

Jungsu looked up from the fish in his cup, a confused look on his face, “You mean the rabbit?” Seungmin made a face back, and picked up the mirror, showing Jungsu the boy inside. Jungsu laughed and asked if Seungmin had his head screwed on right, how could he not see that the mirror just showed the image of a red rabbit? Jungsu looked back down at his tea, or more so, at the fish, poking and playing with them, as a cat would do. 

Seungmin looked at the mirror once again, he was sure he wasn’t crazy, it wasn’t a rabbit. Seungmin absent mindedly tapped at the glass, feeling sorry for the ignored guest inside it. But his eyes widened as Jun Han responded to the tapping, coming closer to the glass, his mouth moving as though he was trying to speak. 

Getting out of his seat, Seungmin walked around the table, first to the Nuggets, to show them the mirror and ask for some help. Joo raised his head to listen to Seungmin’s query. The Nuggets looked first at each other, then back to Seungmin, then back to each other before bursting into hysterical laughter. Joo suggested that Seungmin was going insane, or that he was just stupid for thinking there could be someone trying to talk to him through a mirror, let alone someone living inside it. Gaon, through laughter, informed Seungmin that what he was seeing in the mirror was a mere rabbit with red fur, who could not speak. 

Seungmin, a little bit defeated after being called an idiot by the resident dummies, continued around the table to the Host, hoping that if someone was going to be even a little bit normal, it would be him. But unfortunately, he was met with the same answer everyone else gave, that inside the mirror was just a rabbit. Seungmin did start to feel as though he was going crazy as he stared into the glass, Jun Han on the other side frantically tapping and trying to speak. As Seungmin passed Joo once again, he was knocked into by the second Nugget jumping out of his seat. Gaon had broken Joo’s teacup, standing on it while Joo had been asleep, and with nowhere to serve his drink, Gaon poured the fish-filled water directly into Joo’s lap. 

Joo ran back and forth around the edge of the table in a poor attempt to catch Gaon for drenching him. The first Nugget, safely up on the furniture, avoided his twin by running up and down, destroying almost everything in his path. Jungsu and the Host simply lifted their teacups out of the way as Gaon passed, completely unbothered and entirely familiar with this type of situation. 

The commotion and sudden chaos made Seungmin accidentally drop the mirror face down onto the ground. Apologising out loud to Jun Han inside, Seungmin quickly bent down to pick it back up. The impact with the ground caused a crack to appear right across the centre of the mirror.  “I am so sorry, I’ll put you down now,” Seungmin said, upon seeing the now slightly distorted image of Jun Han in the glass. He hurried to prop the mirror back up on the books, but stopped when he heard a small voice, “Don’t put me down! Get me out of here, please!” It was Jun Han! The crack in the mirror had broken part of the seal and his voice could be heard.

Jun Han explained that he’d stayed late alone out in the forest one night and had gotten himself stuck in the mirror after everybody else had left the party, and nobody would pay any attention to him to help get him back out.  “If I break it completely, will you be free?” Seungmin asked. He certainly could have guessed the answer to that question by himself, but it felt rude to start destroying a mirror that someone had been residing in without permission. Jun Han nodded eagerly, desperate to be released from his prison. Seungmin did as permitted, and hit the edge of the mirror against the frame of Jun Han’s seat, smashing it instantly. The glass shattered and shards and dust rained onto the grass surrounding the chair.  

Jun Han climbed out as quickly as he could, just happy to be free. At first it was nice inside the mirror, allowing him a much needed break from the anarchy unravelling outside, the unorganised tea parties, the disarray, the noise, the mess. But the longer Jun Han watched, captive, separated, the more he wanted to be reunited with his friends, the chaotic but loveable Nuggets, the odd but gentle cat, the abnormal but kind-hearted Host. Jun Han shook Seungmin’s hand vigorously, thanking him for helping him escape the mirror, and took his seat at the table.

“Late!” Exclaimed Gaon, halting in his tracks. “Late!” Repeated Joo, also coming to a standstill, arm, hand and finger extended, pointing right at the red haired Jun Han. It appeared that no one had realised that Jun Han had just climbed out of the mirror, they treated his arrival as delayed despite him having been present the entirety of the party. Jun Han reached for one of the few intact teacups on the table and silently held it out for a serving of Gaon’s special “tea”. 

The Host watched, as he had been the entire time, his eyes full of affection, but he began to stir in his place once all of the seats at the table were full. It was a rare occurrence that all six seats were occupied so the Host grabbed this opportunity to say what he had been holding in. He tapped his cup with a teaspoon, calling for everyone’s attention. As disorderly as the group was, not a single one of them dared disobey the Host. At the tap of his cup the table fell silent. The Nuggets sat up straight, Jun Han placed his cup neatly on the table and turned in his seat towards the head of the table, and Jungsu spat out the innocent goldfish he had been taunting. Nobody said a word. The Host had everyone’s undivided attention. 

“I would like to thank Ode for honouring our invite,” the Host raised his teacup above his head, smiling. His eyes explored his messy table and his attendees, before settling on Seungmin in the seat belonging to the still absent guest, Ode. The partygoers began to clap and cheer, raising their teacups in what seemed to be Seungmin’s honour. Seungmin’s eyes darted between Jungsu, the Nuggets, Jun Han, and the Host. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Host continued. “Ode, if you would be so kind as to share with us, a piece of your hair,” The Host smiled again, ever so politely. Seungmin looked around, all eyes were on him. He was Ode. “I’m sorry but my name is Seungmin, I’m not who you’re looking for.”  

Seungmin noticed Gaon climbing up out of his seat and onto the table once again, something in his hand glinting in the sun. Something that looked like a very large pair of scissors. The Host spoke once again, his tone different to last time, “We are so thankful that you honoured our invitation, Ode. Now if you would be so kind as to share your hair with us.” The once soft and gentle demeanour of the Host had completely vanished. His voice was stern and his eyes strict. How dare Seungmin oppose him? The entire table stared daggers into Seungmin, shocked, appalled, disgusted. How dare Seungmin oppose the Host? Gaon took a step forward along the table, scissors ready in his hand. 

Seungmin thought about his hair that he’d recently had treated and dyed a pretty shade of baby pink. Sure, they had been nice to him, but there was no way he’d let these lunatics start hacking away at his hair with a pair of shears. Who knows what they would do with it! “I’m sorry, I can’t give you my hair,” Seungmin protested, as politely as he could. Of course, he didn’t mean to offend the Host, as he’d been so nice as to welcome him to their party at such short notice. Gaon snipped his large scissors a few times, a signal of warning, whether Seungmin liked it or not, Gaon was going to get that hair. 

Nobody at the table spoke a word. Seungmin daren’t move. He trembled in his seat, afraid of what would happen next. Seungmin watched, shaking as the Host placed his teacup gently on the mess of a table. As soon as the cup touched its saucer, Gaon sprang into action. He leaped forward, scissors outstretched, snipping, cutting. 

Seungmin fell backwards in his seat, shocked and afraid, terrified for his life. He scrambled to get up but was pinned down by Gaon, who flew from the table and landed on top of the Seungmin sprawled across the floor. Gaon grabbed a chunk of Seungmin’s hair and swiftly snipped it off. Tightly clutching his prize, Gaon retreated back up and across the table towards the Host, where he would present the soft tuft of pink.

Seungmin lay, panting and shaking on the floor, watching helplessly as his lock of hair was tucked away neatly into one of many pockets on the inside of the Host’s jacket. As the Host closed his garment, his sweet smile returned. And he raised his teacup once more, “Welcome, Ode. We hope you’ll be happy here.”

Ode sat up from the floor to the sound of cheering and applause. He no longer felt fearful or trembled. He smiled warmly, picking up his chair as his eyes met his friends around the table. 

All of the partygoers raised their teacups in a toast to the successful initiation of their new friend to the Dream Garden.

[softly-potter]

Still Friends | Chapter 5: Books

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Chapter 1: Greetings | Chapter 2: Unloading | Chapter 3: Cherries | Chapter 4: Worth the Wait | Chapter 6: Grief | Chapter 7: Unlikely | Chapter 8: Happy Birthday, Soldier | Chapter 9: A Christmas Moment | Chapter 10: The Best Holiday | Chapter 11: Permission | Chapter 12: Revitalize | Chapter 13: Backstabber | Chapter 14: Luck of the Dead | Chapter 15: Pain Reliever | Chapter 16: Apologize | Chapter 17: Specially Gifted | Chapter 18: New Day

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Chapter 5: Books

November 3rd, 2026

He was never a reader, not really. He’d read the classics, he’d been a big fan of The Hobbit when it originally was printed, but to just read all the time? No, he couldn’t say it was a common pass time of his.

Wanda was a major book worm. She said it helped her sooth, helped her decompress. If anything, it took her away from him, and he wasn’t a fan.

Being in her presence was his way of soothing. Hearing her sigh underneath him was how he decompressed.

Her favorite were sappy romance novels, the kind that had half naked men with ripped abdomens on the front, a skinny blonde in their arms or hanging off of them. Bucky couldn’t understand the appeal, not when they had their own romance.

Last week, he’d bought her a bouquet of daisies. Nothing insane, just a little gesture to brighten her day. Girls in the 40’s had always loved flowers, and Wanda was really no different. She’d blown him in the closet as he’d been trying to choose his attire after she’d put the flowers in a vase.

Now she was propped up at the kitchen table, her book flat and open on the surface as she leaned over, her hair draped over one shoulder. He wanted to kiss her.

Placing a hand gingerly on her back, he dipped his head, brushing his lips against her temple. She murmured in response, hand on the center fold of the page, eyes unmoving.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She replies, and gives his hand a squeeze, but doesn’t look up.

“Wanda?”

No answer.

He nods, understanding she’s preoccupied. Pulling out the chair, he sits down, propping his chin up to wait.

And he waits.

He drums his fingers, watching her. She flips a page.

How long had it been since he first attempted at an interruption?

More time passes.

For fucks sake.

It can’t be that interesting, can it?

She’s so pretty when she’s intent.

How on earth is she still so focused.

He’s hungry, bored and desperate for her. Standing, he begins opening cabinets and drawers banging them shut not so gently. He sees her stir, her hand dropping from the book to drum on its edges and he grins triumphantly.

Continuing his noise, he finally settles on the peanut butter, removing the lid and letting it clatter to the counter top. Her shoulders twitch, and she sighs lightly, scooting back in her chair before waltzing over to the sofa, plopping down. She’s further from the kitchen, therefore further from the noise.

He groans in frustration, scoops some of the peanut butter and takes a bite. He’d rather be eating her, making her thighs tremble, and he slams the jar down before following in her wake.

He sits on his haunches in front of her.

Book open on her lap, she’s wearing one of his night shirts. Hair loose and unbrushed, it covers her neck and shoulders, whips falling into her face. She’s got fuzzy socks on her feet, her butt and thighs hidden beneath the tee.

He’s looking at home.

“Sweetheart.” He mummers, calling her by her favorite nickname. Her eyes flick to his and he has her within reach. His flesh hand holds her knee, nudging it apart from the other, eyes looking down.

Wandas wearing her silk panties. They’re ruby red, with a black little bow in the middle.

His cock jumps in excitement, and he swallows.

She’s watching him, the book open on her lap but long forgot. Green eyes peering onto his face, the corners of her mouth turning up.

Her leg moves, spreading wider, and she moves so that the tee rides up. Creamy skin is covered by red, her hips opening like a flower, waiting for him to pick her. He looks between her panties and her eyes, both of them mesmerizing.

“Is there something you need, Buck?” She asks innocently, like she is bewitching him. Like he isn’t about to beg her to let him touch her.

“Just you.” His voice is hoarse, needy, and he should be embarrassed. He is embarrassed, but then she leans forward, tucking his hair behind his ear as her foot moves, pressing into his length, and his mind is fuzzy.

Slowly, her foot moves against him, palming him, and he inhales sharply. She smiles at his reaction, kisses his nose and leans back, her foot dropping.

“Can I taste you?” He asks helplessly, hands skimming up her knees to her thighs to her hips, kneading the flesh. She cocks her head to the side, closing her book.

“I don’t know…” she teases, shrugging, but she’s smiling so wide he knows she’ll give in. It’s his turn to play his hand, and he cocks an eyebrow.

Pushing back onto his knees, his hands begin rubbing her skin. He places a kiss on her knee, his scruff brushing her skin, then moves his mouth to her inner knee, and gives it a kitten lick.

He doesn’t have to look up to know she’s starring.

Since her thighs are already spread, Bucky begins his slow crawl up her inner thigh, pulling her closer to the edge of the couch. He licks slowly, her skin soft against his tongue, and puts her legs over his shoulders.

“Ah.” She hums. It’s one word, but it’s all the confirmation he needs to know he’s winning.

Catching her eye, he smiles as he places a kiss to her inner thigh, his nose brushing the silk of her panties. Her mouth is open, and he holds her eyes as he bends down, giving an open mouth kiss to her covered cunt.

Wanda forgets she isn’t the only dominate one.

He won’t rush this, his kiss soft against her. She’s been teasing him for days, sending him risqué photos when they’re apart, dressing in less-than-there clothing when they go out.

They’d formed a habit of taking walks. The fresh air did them well, but when her sports bra had a V-neck, he found it hard to focus on the walking.

His actions are slow, and she’s getting antsy, her chest rising and falling quickly, goosebumps gracing her legs. Placing his mouth over her again, he presses his tongue into the silk, can feel her beneath the thin material, and she tenses.

“Buck.”

His eyes flit to hers, and she’s panting. He lifts his head slightly, jaw slack, and she’s burning with want. Diving back down, he repeats his actions, harsher, and she lets out a low moan, eyes falling shut.

He pulls back and leans up slightly, kissing the crease of her. “If I could die in-between these thighs, I’d be a happy man.”

“You’d be a lucky man,” she retorts, her eyes hooded. “Come here.”

“Ask nicely, ma’am.” He teases, and the look she gives him makes his cock stir.

Sitting up, she removes her legs from around his neck, balancing on the edge of the couch on her knees so that they’re chest to chest. Her hands snake up his chest, fingers curling in his collar. She pulls him to her, searing his mouth with hers. Pulling away, her lips are moist. “Please, kiss me here.”

As she speaks, she grips his wrist, and places his hand between her legs. Emeralds pierce into him, pleading, and he pushes the fabric aside. She’s slick against his fingers and he groans.

He knows she’s had enough, and she asked so nicely. He stands, grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder. She screams, before laughing wildly as he walks them to the kitchen. Placing her on the dinner table, he shoves her back against the surface, standing between her dangling legs as he removes his shirt.

Wanda bites her lip, spreading her legs happily, and his hand goes to the waist band of her underwear. He pauses, earning him a wail of discomfort.

“Please,” she asks, nodding rapidly. “You’re so close, please.” He pulls the silk off in one felt swoop, dropping it on the table next to her, before going to his knees.

“Best meal in the world.” He whispers, his breath fanning her core and she shifts. Placing her legs over his shoulder, he kisses her thigh. Wanda lifts her head, annoyance lacing her features, and she opens her mouth to tell him off.

All words die in her throat as he gives her a flat, slow lick.

Her head hits the table, the sound harsh and he repeats his actions. Her legs are shaking, drooping down his back and she’s sweeter than any fruit.

Bucky pauses, peeking up at her. Her eyes are closed, chest heaving with a blush creeping up her neck.

He’s done being slow. Yanking his jeans down, he rubs her clit once, twice, pushing the t-shirt up to expose those glorious tits of hers, and her back arches. He strokes himself, his other hand still on her bundle of nerves, and she moans, her voice hoarse.

“I need you,” she whispers, and he bends down over her, his hand balancing his weight by her face. “Don’t tease.”

He’s enjoying this more than he should. With a single grunt, he slides in, up to the hilt. Her nails scrape against the table, against his arms and chest, and her legs are shaking as he thrusts in and out.

The table creeks against the floor, the sound of skin on skin echoing around his apartment.

It’s nothing but bliss, and she stares up at him, a thoroughly-fucked smile on her face, emerald eyes shining in aw, in satisfaction.

He could get lost in those eyes.

His hips are fast, and she’s moaning, hands reaching for him. He bends down and claims her lips, their saliva mixing, and when she bites his tongue his cock twitches inside her.

He comes not long after, always weak when it came to her pristine cunt.

“Read to me?” He sighs, his cheek pressed against her thigh as they come down from their high. They had migrated back to the couch, settling in as Wanda picked up the nearly forgotten novel.

Flipping open the book, her eyes scan quickly. Her lips are plump, red from pressing into his, and he reaches up, his thumb brushing over them. She smiles against his digits, holding the book above his face.

“Have you ever heard of You?” Wanda asks, and Bucky gives her an odd look. She rolls her eyes. “The book. And the show actually. But the book is way better.”

“You..?”

She flips a page. “Yes. It’s about this guy, Joe. He loves this writing student, and he’s willing to do like, anything for her. But she doesn’t love him back, not really. And then in book two, he meets a new girl, Love.”

“Her names Love?” Bucky interjects, and Wanda nods. “What is with the titles in this book.”

“Books,” Wanda corrects. “Anyways Love loves Joe, even thought she finds out some dark stuff about him. She loves him no matter what.”

Bucky crosses his fingers on his lap, intrigued and content by her voice. “Interesting.”

Wanda clears her throat, eyes on the page. She begins reading, her voice light, fingers rubbing his hairline, and his eyes drift closed.

He wakes slightly when he feels a drop of water on his cheek. He looks up, and Wandas eyes are red. She’s still reading, but her voice is wobbly.

“‘It would be nice to have something alive to hold on to right now, something to love me, something with a beating heart that I can feel…something to be with me as I sit here, in hell, trying to figure it out.’” She sighs lowly, unaware he’s awake and watching her.

“Whats wrong hun?” He asks, sitting up. She snaps the book shut, sniffling, and can’t meet his eyes. She says nothing, and he reaches out, pulling her to him. She smells so good, his scent still strong on her skin, and he presses a kiss to her temple.

“Just a sad chapter.” She mumbles, curling into him.

“Mmm,” he hums, his fingers brushing her arm.

They fall asleep, the book faced up on its spine, waiting for her to finish it.

[teenageread]

Review: Just Happy to Be Here

Trigger Warning: Homophobia and Racism 

Initial Thoughts: 

I really wanted to love this book, but Naomi Kanskia made it hard with probably the worst plot of 2024, and a main character who has no backbone because they were just happy to be here. Tara, a recent trans girl, starts her first year at the all-girls school and wants to join the Sibyl's Society, an exclusionary club with massive scholarships that could get Tara out of her homophobic small town. Unfortunately for Tara, she does not have the grades or talent for the group, but think she should get in because she is BIPOC and trans? This is honestly a question, as throughout the entire book Kanakia did not make it clear whether Tara thought she truly belonged with the Sibyls or not, as even Tara debated back and forth whether she was deserving of a position. Kanakia wanted to write this story to give an honest depiction of what it was like being trans, and the struggles that go with it, but the book was so inconsistent and lacked depth that it made it difficult to read and comprehend at times. 

Characters: 

As a main character, Tara is someone you can root for and support, and feel pity for everything bad that happens to her. I wish Kanskia gave Tara someone she could be real with, but because Tara, essentially, has no friends, or someone trusting relationship with her parents, there is one Tara could be herself with for the entire novel. Like I get that this is a real situation of having no one close to you to share your inner thoughts and be your most ethnic self with, but it made it such a painful read. Even as the reader, Tara held you at arm's length, making you want to shake her and tell her to actually share her thoughts and feelings, instead of bottling them up all the time. I hated how mean Tara was towards Liam, and even doubting his trans identity at points, but then getting mad when Liam tells Tara she does not stand up for their (as trans people) rights enough. She thinks Liam is over-exaggerating the trauma he faces, and dismissing his feelings does not put Tara in a good light. I get that the point of this novel was that Tara did not want to be a political pawn, or leader of an LGBTQ+ movement, but having Tara do nothing every time someone attacks her, just makes you feel sad and provides no hope.  The romance Kanakia also tried to start with Felicity seemed so fake, that honestly even at the end I felt as if Felicity would turn on Tara, as their friendship seemed ice-thin the entire novel.    

Plot and Writing:

Now even if Tara came with her flaws, and the plot had some holes, Kanakia could have saved this novel with some expert writing skills - which they did not. The writing of this novel was inconsistent, fell flat, there were little to no heart no heart conversations, and pacing was inconsistent. Tara does not trust anyone with her feelings, including the readers, so it makes the time she does give emotion rare, too late, and at a weird timing. It was just so hard to keep up with this novel and be invested where the plot kept turning in on itself, and the only thing Tara was consistent on was getting hormone medication, which when her parents finally agreed was not even that big of a plot moment that Kanakia wanted it to be. 

Conclusion 

I wanted to love this novel, and for Tara’s story to be one I recommend it to every one of the real-life situations trans girls find themselves in. But with the bad writing, inconsistent plot, and weak characters, it's a hard book to recommend despite its important message