Spend Time Between The Holidays

Hurt You, Heal You

summary: prompt fill. your friends have rallied around you to make you feel better after your boyfriend cheated on you. Wally, in particular, is determined to put that pretty smile back on your face... (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. flashfic. AU - everyone's alive. hurt/comfort lite.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🤎

Hurt You, Heal You

You sit at the end of the deck, feet kicking the water, the world around you quiet and still, though you can hear your friends laughing up at the firepit. Up the path and through the trees, Claire's lakehouse lit up at the top of the hill.

It's almost sundown and you needed a moment to yourself. Spent the whole weekend surrounded by the people you cared about most in the world. Who'd essentially kidnapped you at someone's behest because you'd isolated yourself for days after the doubt crept back in.

Two months and things are better—they are—but...in the lonely in-betweens, you forget the rage and indignance. The lies and the deceit and the pleas for forgiveness that kindled that beautiful, empowering anger that got you through most of the aftermath.

Brandon Bowers, your boyfriend of a year, cheated on you with Kirsten Bloom. One of Claire's former entourage, now exiled to cling to the last shreds of her popularity on Brandon's arm.

You were devastated. Not that you'd pictured white picket fences and a wedding dress, but you'd invested time, energy, love. Really made an effort and enjoyed being in a relationship. Found yourself discovering new parts of who you were and reveling in them.

Now, you wonder if you'll ever find that again.

With a sigh, you lay back on your drying towel, eyes watching the stars appear above. It's so clear, unlike your head which is steadily descending into chaos as you imagine Brandon and Kirsten, cuddled up somewhere, all in love and happy.

You hear footsteps on the wood, the cadence telling you exactly who it is without you having to look.

Wally Clark plops down beside you and lays back, joining you in repose. His body so close to yours that you can feel the heat emanating from it. He turns his head and you turn yours, eyes meeting. He gives you a big smile, eyes bright and soulful.

"You doing okay?" He asks.

You return his smile with one of your own, meaning it when you say, "Better."

Before the incident, Wally was a casual friend. Someone who hung out with your group when everyone got together. But after the incident, you aren't sure what changed, but there he was. Every time you were down, he picked you up in every way he could think of.

He rallied where your friends were reluctant to. They knew you liked to handle things alone and respected that. Wally, however, didn't believe that for a second, and maybe he was right, since you don't think you would've made it out the other side without him.

It wasn't gradual. Wally was all in all at once. He showed up at your door when you texted Maddie that you weren't going to make it for Movie Night. Standing at the door with a calculating look on his face as he gave you a once-over.

"Get changed." He said.

And that was it. First was the rage room, and, God, was it cathartic. Then came the escape room (a few of the others joined in). After that, karaoke because, belting it out is good for you, cutie, trust me. Friend date after friend date, Wally anticipating exactly what you needed when you needed it before you even processed what was happening.

The night at the old theater downtown was by far your favorite. The band was terrible. Screechy and out of tune. Lyrics that were supposed to be profound sounded like inexperience and naiveté. Still, you and Wally moshed your bodies aching, laughing the whole time until you nearly peed yourself.

He's a good friend.

Your heart flutters, cheeks pink as you recall the few instances he's looked at you in a way you can't quite decipher, but the feeling those looks stirred inside you was more than platonic.

You didn't mention it then, and you won't mention it now. Too afraid for too many reasons. You don't want to ruin a good thing, you don't want to feel how Brandon made you feel again. Fear and confusion and self-deprecation.

Wally's hand finds yours between your bodies, and he squeezes. Although his face is toward the sky, you know he's paying attention.

"You sure you're okay?"

You take a moment to answer, letting the heat and weight of his hand on yours sink into your skin.

"Yeah." You say, trying to sound nonchalant. Keep it brief so you don't reveal where your mind wandered.

He remains silent for a while. Just lays there with you as the sun sets. And then he's in motion, rolling onto his side, eyes glittering as he grins down at you. Uh-oh. You know that look. That playful gleam.

The next thing you know, he's on his feet, his hands clasped around your wrists to haul you up then haul you over his shoulder. Spins on his heal, you shriek, and he jumps into the water, taking you unceremoniously with him.

When you break the surface, you're spluttering, pulling your hair back out of your face, spitting water and glaring at him as soon as he comes up with that stupid, crooked grin that makes your blood tingle.

"What the hell!?" You demand, splashing him in the face, "I just got dry!"

Wally cackles, splashing you right back, "You were getting in your head again, angelface, I had to!"

Oh, no, he absolutely did. not. have to.

You splash him again. He launches toward you as fast as the water will let him and then pseudo-tackles you back, submerges you both gleefully before releasing you so you can suck in a harsh breath.

"You're the worst!" You say, but even you can hear the laughter in your voice. Giddy. Happy. Wally's bright mood is contagious.

As he treads water, you see that look fall over his face. The soft one that makes your brain fuzzy and your stomach twist. He ruins the moment by spitting a fountain of water at you and backstroking out of your reach when you try to lunge in retaliation.

He's never said I told you so, despite being the only person you know who could. He warned you about Brandon, how Wally didn't like the guy, thought he was bad news. No one else picked up on it, so you ignored him and Wally never brought it up again.

You've been waiting for Wally to boast since he started spending his free time putting a smile on your face. Now, you realize he isn't the type. He'll never say those words, never make you feel like an idiot for trusting someone who Wally read like 3rd Grade English while you chose to be illiterate.

You've never appreciated anything more.

Wally sloshes the water around, tipping onto his back to float while he gazes at the sky. You join him, drifting close by in the water, allowing the moment to settle between you and him.

"How're you feeling now?" He asks eventually, voice as soft as the ripples. "And be honest. I know when you're lying."

He really does. It's kind of scary how, in such a short time, Wally knows you better than Nicole or Maddie or Simon.

This time, you really think about it. Take stock, measure and analyze and process. Finally, "I feel really good." The water slips as you turn your head to look at him, "Thanks to you."

It's so quiet, you aren't sure he hears you, but he does. You can tell by his smile. The gentle, pleased-with-himself one he wears when you've said he's done a good job.

Unfortunately, the moment ends with a shriek, this time in horror, not delight, because, ah, holy fuck, ew, oh God, you felt something bump against your leg in the water.

You're a flurry of motion and noise before you feel Wally's hands on your body, hear his laughter in your ear, loud and carefree.

"It was seaweed," He snorts, lifting up the clump that drifted into you for you to see.

Embarrassed, "I knew that."

"Sure you did," He tosses it further into the water.

Your lips twist in displeasure. Either way, "I'm gonna get out now."

"Just in case the Loch Ness Monster tries to eat you?" Wally grins.

"And here I was starting to like you," You glare. It lacks heat, a smile already curling the corners of your mouth at his teasing. "Now you're being mean."

Wally doesn't go still, can't unless he wants to sink below the surface, but he's so close you can sense how he tenses.

"Yeah?" He says in a breath. His leg brushes yours under the water when he wades closer. "You're starting to like me?"

There's something in the question—in his tone—that ignites a spark of heat in your belly. And now he's as close as he can get without absorbing you, your legs forced to spread to make room for his impossibly long ones. Only a narrow fraction between your chest and his. His face right there, lips still holding that dumb, gorgeous smile.

He says it like a secret, nearly lost under the chirp of crickets and distant laughter from the lakehouse.

"I'm starting to like you, too." Wally confesses and lets it sit in the air between you, waiting with baited breath for you to respond.

Your brain halts, eyes widening slightly. This isn't his usual playful teasing. The unsubtle flirting he lays on thick to make it a joke. This is real. Sincere. Vulnerable.

"Wally..." You begin, have no idea where to go from there so you trail off and leave it at that.

He doesn't seem to mind, can probably read it all over your face, as dark as the world is now. You feel one of his arms hook around your waist and draw you into his body, his lap.

Wally's eyes dip to your lips, then return to hold your gaze. He doesn't speak, just holds you, stares at you as if taking in a work of art. You swallow, shivering at the intensity in his eyes. The air thickens around you and him, syrupy and warm, and, wow, you never felt this with Brandon. This innocent, sweet desire for something to happen.

"I—" Wally stops, starts again, clearly nervous yet determined to tell you, "I do like you...a lot."

As if you couldn't figure that out from the way he holds you now. Actually, you probably wouldn't have. Would've chalked it up to Wally being casually affectionate and touchy like he is with everyone.

No, this is different, and you know it.

A single, short moment of silence as you try to find your words, only for you to blurt, "Me too."

Jesus, the smile he gives you rivals the sun.

You find yourself melting into him as you and he bob in the water, shallow enough that you can feel him steady his feet on the bottom of the lake as he keeps you in his lap. Buoyant. Light as a feather, yet feeling the weight of everything pushing you into him.

He doesn't waste a second. Takes it slow, sure, but makes sure you know exactly what he means by likes you. One of his hands grips your hip to keep you steady, the other trails gentle fingers down the slope of your jaw.

Wally leans in by degrees, giving you a chance to change your mind, no doubt. You have no intention of doing that.

And then, barely a touch, his lips brush yours. You gasp at the sensation, lips already tingling, and it prompts him to release a sigh. He lets out, lingers, then moves back in with more purpose.

A flick of his tongue, "Baby," and he kisses you harder, his grip on your hip sliding down to your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Nothing else exists. Not the lake, not your friends. Not the memory of Brandon and Kirsten tangled together in Brandon's bed. Nothing apart from Wally and you and this kiss.

When it breaks, you're breathing heavy, somehow pressed even closer to him. Wally openly admires you, his hand on your neck so damn worshipful, his thumb stroking your cheek before pressing into the corner of your mouth.

"I wanna do that again," You murmur without thinking.

He chuckles, raspy and rich, "Me too."

So he does. And again. And again, until someone—Nicole—calls from the top of the path that burgers are ready! and you and he have to get out of the water to rejoin the gathering.

You sit beside him, curled up in your Adirondack chair, feet on his lap. No one mentions the new exchange of intimacy between you and him, and you realize belatedly, scanning your friends' expressions over the course of the night, that they knew.

Wally doesn't deny it when you stage whisper the question. Instead, he takes advantage of the fact that you figured it out to manhandle you from your chair into his lap, where he keeps you for the rest of the night.

And, just like every time before, you didn't realize what you needed until Wally gave it to you. Somewhere safe. Somewhere secure.

Now, you don't have to wonder if you'll ever find the type of love you wanted again, because it found you.

🤎___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.

fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.

Need this man BIBLICALLY

Also look how adorable Peyton is in the back. Love her too

Tell me why I can’t think about anything else. Bro needs to start paying RENT for taking so much space in MY MIND

Get a load of this guy (I’M TRYING TO)

I’d let him eat me (out)

Wally Clark

Just me or is Wally also my husband???

Can't stop thinking abt school sprits tb

I think about it when I'm sleeping, when I'm awake. When I get home and when I'm at stake😭

Anxiety

summary: prompt fill. Wally isn't clingy. he isn't. honest. but something about your aura makes him nervous, and suddenly he's all hands everywhere and babbling where he's normally calm, cool, collected, and he needs you to get his head back on right. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. nothing Anxiety Disorder related. Wally Clark is a whiny lil' babe when he's nervous.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍋‍🟩

Anxiety

At first, you don't even acknowledge him. Which, alright, fine, you don't have to, it's not a rule. But Wally's suddenly anxious, tracking in his head all the things he said to you yesterday when he left your house. Hopped out the window, dashed across the lawn, and strutted home with a skip in his step because you showed him how much you love his cock.

Thrice.

You kissed him goodbye, sleepy and sweet, after he tucked you in. Normal. Better than normal, actually. And you didn't text him this morning to suggest anything's wrong.

Oh God. Does that mean something's wrong?

You don't always text him before school since, as you said, you know you're going to catch him before class. He left you pretty late last night, so no wonder you showed up only minutes before the bell instead of your usual twenty, and shit, is that the problem?

He wasn't considerate of your time? He should've been. Fuck, he should. have. been. Not whining and begging you for, "Just one more time, baby, please. I can't stop, I'm still so hard for you, come on."

With a whine he doesn't realize he releases, he crosses the cafeteria and takes a seat beside you. Fiddles with his hands in his lap, knee bouncing, trying to smile at Simon and Ajay who smile back, though something in their eyes is mildly concerned.

You chat away to Claire and Nicole as if Wally isn't buzzing out of his skin beside you, pretty and awake, voice tinkling like a bell. Wally chews his lip the longer you go without indicating you notice him.

You're wrapped up in the conversation, he tells himself. You're not mad at him. Right? .... Right!?

Uncertain, but desperate for acknowledgement, Wally reaches out and places a hand on your knee. You don't shoo him away. Don't move it. In fact, you inch closer, pressing your hip against his and curling your hand around his. You don't look at him, but Wally considers it a win.

Or maybe it's not.

Maybe you just don't want to cause a scene, and you're giving him crumbs of affection to placate him before you take him somewhere private and blow his world to smithereens.

By the time the bell rings, Wally's worked himself into a frenzy. Palms sweaty, face pale, lip worried red. He keeps his eyes down, offering you a nervous, tight smile when you gaze up at him as you stand and grab your bag.

You notice and tilt your head, studying him like last night's Bio homework.

You and he have English next, but you don't seem to care, dragging him by the wrist into and empty classroom where you instruct him to, "Sit."

Wally does as he's told, sitting in the teacher's chair, staring up at you with enormous, soulful eyes, as if pleading for you to forgive him for whatever he did wrong.

You scan his face through narrowed eyes, and then slide your bag off your shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Quite unexpectedly (though very much appreciated), you plant your legs on either side of his and plop down in his lap with your whole weight. Hips right against his, no air between you; your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist.

He gulps, blinking at you, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, "What's going on in that silly head of yours, pretty boy?"

Wally releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relaxing as your lips curl into a warm, sedate smile. His hands tighten on your waist.

"I...thought you were mad at me?" He poses like a question, feeling stupid now that he hears himself say it out loud. And then, babbling, "I thought I might've disrespected your time last night. I know I left later than we planned, and I'm so sorry. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again, babe, I promise. But you know how I am when I get you all to myself—" Which sounds like he's blaming you, crap "Not that it's your fault, I'm not saying that, I was just trying to say that I know I need to be more aware of the time—"

You shut him up with a hard, deep kiss. Your lips taste like candy, tongue sweet-sour as you sweep it over his, moaning in delight when he begins to respond.

His hands fall to your hips, then glide back to grab your ass cheeks, hitching you as close as he can get you. Wally spreads his legs wide, cock fattening up so quick he sees spots behind his eyes when you grind forward and gasp.

"There's my good boy," You murmur, breathless, beautiful; cheeks pink and eyes glossy, and, oh fuck, Wally whimpers. You fist your hand into his hair and drag him into another heavy kiss, not letting him breathe until you've had your fill.

He pants, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass as you grind in slow, delirious rolls of your hips against his.

"I'm not mad at you, Wally," You assure him, "What did I tell you last time you thought I was?"

It takes everything in Wally to remember anything outside of this moment, but eventually he says, "That you'd tell me immediately."

"And I meant that." You pause, going still, and he whines in frustration. "Don't you trust me?"

He nods vigorously, "I trust you, I'm sorry," pinning you to him which in turn shifts you against his cock. He moans weakly, grinding his hips up, begging you to take pity on him.

Fuck, it's insane how easily he gets worked up for you, but he wouldn't change a thing. You and he are already skipping English, might as well use the time doing something...productive.

"Shh, you don't need to apologize," And you say it as you wedge a hand between your body and his, fingers deftly undoing his fly, hand sneaking under the denim to palm him through his boxer-briefs. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Wally's breathing too quick to respond, to thank you for being so understanding. His eyes roll back, head tipping backwards, hips bucking into your hand.

"Baby, please," God, he needs you, is already leaking a wet spot into the cotton.

Cruelly. Sultry. "Use your words, pretty boy," You purr, biting a trail down his neck. "Tell me what you want to do."

He swallows thickly, groans weakly, a pathetic little mewl. He hates having to ask, especially when he knows you know exactly what he's angling for.

But then your hand stops, your hips stop, you stop, and he forces out, "I wanna be inside you so bad..." Choked and desperate.

He opens his eyes and sees you smirking at him, cool as a cucumber. Or that's what he thinks until you grab his hand and bring it under your skirt, encourage his fingers to slip under the crotch of your panties. Fuck, you're so wet. Juicy and slick and hot just for him. Again, he swallows, throat dry, eyes heavy-lidded and blown, panting like a dog as you begin to ride his fingers.

"Is that good?" He asks, cock throbbing when you throw your head back, arch your chest forward, moan like a porn star because of something he's doing to you.

He can't take it anymore, needs to have you, needs to be inside you. He pulls his fingers out too soon. You pout, but don't complain, shifting to peel your panties off before resettling in his lap. Wally has enough brain power left to check that the door is locked, the little window still covered by that Drug Prevention poster plastered all over the school for the next month.

You bring him right the fuck back into the moment by dropping down on his cock, one slick-slide move that punches a grunt from Wally's chest. You start slow, always taking your time to build a rhythm, drive him batshit fucking crazy with lust before giving him what he needs to get to the edge.

"You're such a good boy, Wally," You praise, lifting and sinking down on him again and again and again, squeezing tight around him every time, "You're so sweet, so perfect."

And, shit, he needs to hear that, his blood pumping harder, weak sounds of pleasure and gratitude released from his core, his hands clutching you like worship. Then, you start to move faster. Sharper grinds, harder drops, wet squelches telling him how close you are.

How close he got you.

"Oh, God, baby, I'm gonna come," He sobs, feet planted, hips bucking in tempo with your movements, fingernails digging into your ass cheeks, "Don't stop, fuck, baby, I'm gonna—"

It hits him like a Mack truck to the hypothalamus. He explodes inside you, crying out like a fucking princess, pumping his hips as he spends everything he has in him.

It rips your climax from you, Wally can feel it, shit, fuck, it's so good, the way you go so tight around him, a vise holding him deep inside you. The way your thighs spasm and your mouth falls open and you look at Wally like he's the most important person in the world.

Moments later, cooled down and cuddling in the afterglow, you pet his hair sweetly and kiss him with fondness; soft, loving.

"What do we do the next time you think I'm mad at you?" You say like a kindergarten teacher talking about sharing crayons.

Wally pouts, mumbles, "Talk to you about it."

You grin. "And when do we talk about it?"

"Before I get anxiety..." Wally pinches his lips together and averts his gaze.

You don't let him avoid your eyes for long, drawing his face back so he has to look at you.

"If it makes you feel any better, Wally, I honestly don't think I could ever get mad at you." You kiss the tip of his nose. "But if I do, I promise, I'd tell you straight away, okay?"

Wally nods, as solemn as he is grateful and relieved, "Okay."

You lean in, nip his earlobe and whisper, "Good boy." And suddenly he's fucking hard all over again, flipping you onto your back on the teacher's desk and showing you with his body exactly how good he can be.

🍋‍🟩___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Simp..

a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write.

THAT LOOK THE SMILE I WOULD MELT

Man’s aura is off the charts

Season 2 finale spoilers.. ish

Season 2 of School spirits really left on not one, not two but THREE cliffhangers? What?! As someone who only got Paramount Plus in January and watched the show and immediately fell in love now I have to wait for confirmation of season 3? Ugh this show man, I love it and hate it all at the same time

October Moon

summary: the day after Dawn's ascension, things had picked up speed. research had uncovered more of the school's secrets. meanwhile, Maddie's memories had been triggered, and Simon had made a connection that'd dragged your family further into the mystery.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.11

Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Visiting Ginny in the hospital never got easier.

"She was such a quiet girl, you know..." Nanna said softly, holding Ginny's hand as she spoke. Her eyes were distant as she fell into the past, reliving memories of their childhood.

Ginny was much older than Nanna. Nanna had been a surprise after their mother, your great-grandmother, had been told she wouldn't have been able to create—never mind carry—another baby. Ginny adored Nanna. Had adored her the moment Nanna came into the world.

After a fire had killed their parents, Ginny took on multiple roles (sister, mother, guardian, friend) and did her best to raise Nanna. Though she'd still been young herself, it hadn't stopped her from doing what needed to be done. There'd been some relative outside of Split River who could've taken Nanna, but Ginny had insisted they not be separated.

Ginny and Nanna had been two peas in a pod since. Where one went, the other followed.

"What changed?" You finally asked, gazing at Ginny as she slept, oxygen tube down her throat. That was the worst you'd ever seen her.

Your eyes pricked and your stomach clenched, and you so badly yearned for her to wake up. To hug you, pet your hair, and tell you that you were being ridiculous to worry over her.

Nanna chuckled, her thumb stroking the back of Ginny's hand, "The reason her lungs are so weak." She said, quiet, tired, "The fire."

"The fire made her more—" Blunt, dramatic, stubborn, batshit insane with a warm heart and a warmer smile. You settled for, "Loud?"

"It scared her. You come face to face with death like that, sweetpea, and it changes you. Either for good or for bad." Nanna cast you an amused smile, "I like to believe that's why you and Aiden were so mischievous. Obnoxious little munchkins, the both of you."

"What do you mean?" You asked around the lump in your throat, pictured Aiden at that farmhouse as he clutched Limon and asked strangers to play.

Nanna gave you a surprised look, one that indicated you should've known what she meant.

She told you anyway, "Aurora was an easy birth. Out in minutes. Squalling like a banshee." She chuckled, shaking her head with a fond smile. "But you...you were impatient. Wanted to be in the world as soon as possible." She paused, patted your knee, "You came early. Such a wee thing." Nanna's smile fell, "You weren't breathing. But," Her smile returned, "They saved you. You recovered quickly and I have a feeling my wily sister had something to do with it..." Nanna cast Ginny's unconscious form a playful look of bemusement, "You didn't have to suffer years of treatments like most unlucky infants."

Amelia's words rung in your head like the knell of a church bell: Death ushered them into the world and left a piece of himself within them.

So...you'd been delivered with Death at your heels. Amelia had mentioned that that was how you could interact with the metaphysical world and those who inhabited it. Holy shit.

"And Aiden?"

Nanna sighed, "Poor little bug." She made the sign of the cross, something she only ever did when Aiden was mentioned. "I always wondered if he knew..." She shook her head as if to dispel the very thought and diverted, "He was blue as a violet. The cord had...had wrapped itself around his neck. He was dead for almost a minute before they revived him..." Nanna's eyes glistened. She gazed over her sister again, lips pinched in despair.

Death had had its arms open for Aiden since the day he was born, you mourned. You weren't surprised that Nanna thought it possible that Aiden knew, somehow, someway, that he hadn't been destined for a long life. If anyone in the house would've known, it would've been her. She'd examined his palms the same as she'd done everyone else's...

"Did you know?" You had to ask, uncomfortable that you hadn't remembered until now exactly what your grandmother's connectedness was capable of. "That he wouldn't live long?"

Her face was grim as the reaper, eyes haunted, "I hoped against it. Reading the Awen isn't precise, sweetpea. And I prayed, in that instance, I was wrong."

But she hadn't been.

You almost wanted to confess to her about Aiden and the farmhouse and the other ghosts. You didn't, of course, but you suddenly realized how ill-equipped you were to face everything alone. The responsibility of stopping Amelia, retrieving Maddie's body, and freeing the ghosts. Freeing Wally. It was a vise that strangled your heart without remorse.

Nanna brought the conversation back to Ginny, faraway eyes and compassionate smile, "That fire might've weakened her body, but it strengthened her spirit." She ended wistfully, "Few realize that Death is also capable of giving gifts. It can be kind as it can be cruel."

Minutes later, Nanna excused herself to fetch a cup of hot water to steep the dry ingredients Aurora had delivered from the flower shop. She left with a kiss on your head and a squeeze of your shoulder. You took her place in the chair beside Ginny. Held Ginny's hand in yours, and tried to tamp down the slurry of emotions that rose within you.

After a long moment of silence, you choked, "Everything's fucked up." A plea to someone who couldn't hear you.

She couldn't Travel, you imagined because her body and mind were too weak, but you desperately needed her right now. Or you needed to finally unload the burden of truth on someone you could trust because it had become too much.

"There weren't any stupid storms or squalls or whatever you and mom said there would be. But it feels worse. Like everything is out of control—" A thick sniffle, a hiccup, "Maddie's a ghost and her body is missing. I think there's someone out there who wants to use it for themselves," Your voice broke when you continued, "I--I don't know what to do... I-I don't even know where to look. Or how to look. I need help, Ginny. Xavier and Simon are great and they want to help, they do, but they don't know this stuff and now I'm expected to be a walking encyclopedia and—" A self-deprecating snort, "Fuck. I barely know anything..."

The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. The ventilator whirred. Ginny remained a gaunt statue in repose.

You leaned over and pressed your forehead to the back of her hand, hot tears falling onto her cold skin, "Please wake up..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon ran his thumb over the pendant, his other hand in Maddie's as she urged him to lure her mother to the school. Get her here, he heard Maddie plead, I always know when she's lying.

But Simon's mind was elsewhere, his eyes flicking over the pendant's design, teeth clenched as he berated himself. He should've asked more questions when he'd—God dammit, the answers might've been right fucking there and he'd been too busy minding his pleases and thank yous.

He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized the pendant the night of the dance, strung around someone else's neck. One of a pair, your great-aunt had told him. Maddie had worn the necklace every day since he'd known her. A gift from her father she rarely, if ever, removed.

Without acknowledging Maddie's insistence to get Sandra in a room with her, Simon asked, "You said your dad gave this to you?"

Maddie's teeth clicked when she abruptly closed her mouth, visibly stunned that Simon would ask that now. A brief moment of contemplation and then, "Yeah. Right before he died."

"And you're sure about that?" Simon's eyes never left the pendant, but his grip on Maddie's hand tightened marginally, a gesture expressing that it was important, that he needed her to be precise.

"Yeah." One beat. Two. "I mean, not really. I got it in the mail. Mom said he sent it when he was still in Texas. That it took longer to get there than he did. He was back for a couple of weeks before..." Maddie trailed off. Simon could fill in the blanks.

Christopher had been home for a couple of weeks before he'd killed himself while wearing your body like a meat puppet.

"In the mail?" Simon prompted as he released her hand to cup her jaw, gaze boring into hers. "And you're sure your dad was the one who sent it?"

Maddie swallowed. "Yeah. It was definitely him."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Simon, I'm sure." Prickly, fierce. "My dad sent it. I know he sent it. There was a note with it in his handwriting."

Simon dropped his hand back to hers, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like you don't know what you're talking about, Maddie. I just want to make sure that we have all the facts."

"Why?" Maddie asked and leaned back to examine him since he wasn't making sense.

Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put into words the weird coincidence he was beginning to think wasn't a coincidence at all.

"When I went to pick her up for the Homecoming dance... Maddie, her great-aunt had exactly the same pendant. Ginny said that it was one of a pair, earrings or something, but she lost the other one a while ago."

Maddie frowned and then her face went slack in shock, "You think her great-aunt might've been the one to give it to me?"

Simon shook his head, frustrated, confused, steadily more defeated as he realized he was so far out of his depth that he couldn't hold his head above water anymore.

"I don't know." He slumped, rubbed his eyes, and gave Maddie an apologetic look. "But we have to find out. Someone has to know."

"Si, I know my dad gave me that necklace."

"I don't doubt it, I'm just saying: We know one of the two earrings isn't in Ginny's possession anymore. We know Amelia has been in her house. We also know that Amelia stole your dad's body," He stopped, his tone shifting when he realized how indelicate that'd sounded. Simon regrouped, squeezed Maddie's hand, then continued, "We know that your dad asked her to give you something."

"And you think it was my necklace," Maddie murmured, staring at it as Simon laid it carefully on the table between them, bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind like shattered glass.

"It makes sense. She doesn't remember what your dad asked her to take you. But what if it's this? If it's the same as Ginny's..." Simon leaned in to draw Maddie's attention from the necklace to him, his hand on her knee, "If it's like Ginny's, it probably works and keeps the bad spirits away from you."

Maddie snorted, a weak, light huff of air, "Didn't stop someone from knocking my spirit out."

Simon let that sit in the air for a moment as he devised a plan.

Taking Maddie's request to bring her mother to heart, "Your mom might know something. Like you said, you can tell when she's lying."

"Get her here." Maddie reiterated. "And we can figure out if—if my mom..." Had anything to do with Amelia and golems and hurting Maddie, she didn't need to elaborate.

Cutting her off, "Okay," Simon put the necklace back in the manila envelope, folded it, and shoved it into his back pocket before promising, "Okay, I'll figure something out."

Maddie sat silently for a long moment, gazing into the middle distance, so worn and small that Simon nearly choked on his heart looking at her.

Sandra might not have been the best mom, but she was Maddie's, and Maddie loved her. Simon couldn't imagine Sandra hurting Maddie. However, in light of all Simon had learned about in the last few weeks, it was easier to assume someone had used Sandra to do the work on their behalf.

Amelia, Anabelle, a secret third other, it didn't matter. Someone had the kind of power that could be used to control minds, bodies, the very fabric of the universe. His gut rolled.

As he stood, Maddie stopped him with a touch to his hip, "Simon?" She rose to her feet and shuffled into his space, looped her arms around his neck and held him, "Yesterday, what you said about whether or not us figuring it out means me moving on—"

"Don't worry about that right now," Simon murmured into her hair. It was jarring, how she didn't smell like anything. Just clean air. He stammered, "I was being selfish."

Maddie tilted back a fraction and said firmly, "You're never selfish," which made Simon's heart skip a beat and break at the same time.

"Maddie...if it was her," He started, nervous to voice his concern, his fear, but he wanted to understand, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

She didn't answer. Simply tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held him close.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Everett sat in disbelief as he listened to his students. Things were far worse than he'd been led to believe. He picked at a thread on his suit jacket, fidgeted to maintain his composure under the onslaught of questions his students asked.

For someone who'd prided himself on having all the answers, he wasn't sure how to address what his students were demanding he address.

Had Amelia left him be, had she stopped interfering and dragging him away to help her on a quest he couldn't actually help with—trapped behind a barrier as he was—none of this would've happened.

It'd been her fault, anyway, that Janet had done what she'd done. Everett didn't know everything, the hows and whys, but he knew enough to understand that Janet had been pushed to the edge by something Amelia had done or planned to do...

If only Amelia had let them be.

Dawn's ascension had happened while he'd been in the fallout shelter. He'd felt it. Felt that peace. That warmth. That omniscient truth that he'd never felt before because crossing over was supposed to be impossible inside the barrier.

Wally and Charley and Rhonda spoke over each other, a cacophony of questions with no answers. None that he was at liberty to give. He finally snapped the thread from his blazer, hands shaking because of what it signified that his clothes were deteriorating instead of resetting as they'd done since 1958.

"—the light at the same time as the goosebumps. Simultaneous goosebumps." Wally ranted between Charley's retelling of what they'd experienced.

Everett's collar felt too tight.

Bernie and Katelynn agreed and confirmed and Everett wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. The noise of their curiosity caused his mouth to dry, his heartbeat to quicken, his palms to get clammy.

His students' eyes were on him, pinning him in place. He strung together the right words in the wrong context, anything to supplicate them, but they continued to press like walls closing in. And then Mina's face, sad and scared, seared behind his eyes, and he couldn't manage the pressure.

"After all these years, how can you still be so clueless?" Charley demanded, and Everett absorbed it like he'd absorbed Amelia's outrage when Janet had vandalized a plan that had been decades in the making.

It had been such a struggle to attain the right pieces and set them on the board. Amelia had been righteous in her anger. A glorious, beautiful blaze of fury that had left Everett wounded and weak. All because of Janet, who'd argued with him and accused him of being naïve. Who'd rearranged the board under his nose to steal what didn't belong to her.

"What if looking back isn't a bad thing?" Charley hounded, "What if it's actually the key to get out of here!? Why shouldn't we at least try that?"

They weren't allowed. They weren't allowed to look back. Amelia had warned him that everything he'd worked for, everything he'd done for them, everything he'd ever wanted would be snatched away if they looked back. And he couldn't have that. They needed him. To put them back on the right path, to guide them and teach them and be the person they relied on.

He refused to lose them like this.

"Because it's painful to constantly be thinking about it!" Everett's tone hit his ear belatedly and he deflated in his chair, eyes imploring, begging his students to listen to him like they used to. "Right!?"

His students went still, their eyes on him, willing to receive what wisdom he imparted. He gave them his impassioned speech, voice pleading, hoping his vulnerability would get them to see sense.

Subdued and seeming remorseful, they listened. Eyes down, features contorted in regret. For now, at least, Everett had won.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally kissed you like it was the last time. Slow, deep, explorative; memorizing every shape and taste of your mouth as he held you by the hips in his lap.

The school was empty aside from the teachers involved in the awards ceremony. Ajay had snuck you in and escorted you to Wally before he'd accompanied Maddie to the teacher's lounge for a coffee and a heart-to-heart.

Wally had stumbled upon Maddie in the hallway after Group. She'd been in bad shape. He was grateful that Ajay had stepped in to be there for her while she waited for Simon to arrive with her mom so that Wally could soak in your presence privately.

Needless to say, Group had left him rattled, and he needed the comfort.

"Wally?" You asked, likely having noticed his mind had wandered. "You okay?"

Wally's grip tightened on your hips, then smoothed down to your thighs, back up under your skirt to drag you closer by the ass. He gave you a weary smile, about as much as he could muster.

Between Mr. Martin's behavior in Group and Maddie's comment—"What would you do if the one person who was supposed to protect you was the one who hurt you?"—unleashing a repressed sense of betrayal toward his mama, Wally's strength of will had rapidly declined.

He didn't think he could do this anymore.

Call him selfish, but he missed the simpler times. The times before Maddie and the mystery and the cloak and dagger he and the others were forced to come to grips with. There was peace in ignorance and he wanted to find it again, just for a second, just to regroup and start fresh and—

"Hey," Your hands on his jaw, angling his face toward yours, "You still with me, big guy?"

"Sorry baby," Wally said, low and solemn, "Too many thoughts."

You nodded, "Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I never noticed Maddie's necklace. I see it every day, you'd think I would've put two and two together as soon as I met her, yanno?"

Not exactly where Wally's mind was, but that was odd.

"You said you and Maddie weren't that close before now," Wally tried to reason so you wouldn't drive yourself crazy thinking about it. "Who really pays attention to that kind of thing?"

You raised a brow, "I noticed Nicole had the same spider ring as Maddie as soon as she started wearing it."

"Okay. Fair. But that spider ring didn't ward off evil spirits, right? Maybe it's a magic necklace thing." And then he put on an all-powerful, godly voice, "All who look upon this necklace shall forget its importance lest they be cursed!"

You giggled, a sound as beautiful as a summer breeze, and beamed at him. Jesus, he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his existence. He lifted one hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, dipped in to brush his lips against yours, a smile of his own forming.

"Very impressive use of the word 'lest'," You teased, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Hey, I was practically a straight A student, thanks."

"What I'm hearing is that you bullied nerds into giving you test answers."

Wally scoffed, "I didn't bully anyone! I used my popularity to charm certain academically gifted individuals into helping me along. It was give-give, baby, I swear." He grinned, both hands back on your ass, massaging your flesh.

"You may be onto something though, Wally." You said after a moment, "I wouldn't be surprised if Amelia glamoured the necklace so that no one would recognize it." A cheeky grin, "Lest her whole plan go up in flames before she could finish it." You raised your hands and made a poof gesture.

Wally drew you closer by the back of your head, his gaze flickering over your face as his eyes went heavy and heated, "Have I ever told you how sexy your brain is, baby?"

"Once or twice," You smirked and brushed your lips against his, "But you're welcome to tell me again."

A slow, thorough kiss before Wally said, "You have a very," kiss "very," kiss as his large hand pushed your closer so you were planted flush against him, "sexy brain."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was insubordinate on a good day, but the little nuisance had been more so in recent weeks. Austin didn't like it. By then, Xavier didn't need to be cagey or deflective for Austin to recognize when Xavier was hiding something.

In fact, Xavier had been combative, had shown up of his own volition to once again challenge Mr. South's innocence. And hadn't that been the cherry on top of a taxing day...

It was hard enough keeping the deputies' instincts from firing on all cylinders, pumping them with enough tea to fill an ocean. But Austin was at a pivotal point in tracking down and locating Madison Nears' runaway body and getting the plan back on the rails. He couldn't afford any more disruptions or screw-ups.

It rankled to think that perhaps, as had happened to Amelia's little pet who'd stopped drinking the tea under Amelia's nose, Xavier might've done the same thing. Austin was not one to be trifled with, and refused to acknowledge that that could possibly be right. He had a far stronger influence than Amelia.

But, he supposed, it needed to be looked into. After all, things had shifted since Madison Nears had been unceremoniously (prematurely) separated from her body. Xavier's manipulated subconscious could be another thing affected by it.

Pausing at reception, Austin noted the address he'd scribbled down earlier. Another possible lead.

At his hip, out of sight of those milling about the station, he typed a text to Dave's phone. The address and a blunt reminder that Amelia had better not let her former student slip through her fingers again or Anabelle would snatch her precious vessel right from her clutches without remorse.

'Find her.' Austin texted and hoped it was simple enough to get through to Amelia.

He didn't want to have to do it, but Austin was willing to discard Amelia to this lifetime to rot. Age had not given Amelia wisdom, that was clear, and Austin—Anabelle—wasn't sure he cared to coddle an idiot for the rest of time.

Dave's response came through.

'I will. I promise.'

Austin should've known better than to trust Amelia after everything she'd already failed to do...

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Are you finding anything?"

"Dude, this thing was old when I went here," Wally told Charley from his place at the microfilm reader.

The file room was dark, claustrophobic, filled with a lot of information yet very few answers. So far, anyway. You sat at the single tiny table, flipping through transcripts from 1960 while, at your feet, back against your leg, Ajay perused the stack of yearbook printouts from around the same era.

Your mind was torn between doing the research in front of you and what you'd been slowly translating in the books you and Xavier had found at the farmhouse. Unfortunately, you'd done a very poor job in the early hours of that morning, your eyes crossing as the Old English script bled together on the page. Flipping through the first book was a chore, the pages so fragile that you'd lost margins and corners that might've been important.

The second wasn't as cumbersome to flip through, but it made about as much sense as the first. Tonight, you'd decided, you'd lock yourself away in your room, roll your sleeves up, and get stuck in for as long as it took to find something about the barrier around the school.

"Dawn found something yesterday when she looked into her past." Charley said, determined, "I mean, Janet must've done the same. So...maybe if we look into their pasts, too, we could find something that could explain all of this."

Ajay sighed, "Don't we already know?" When Charley snapped a pointed side-eye at him, Ajay flapped a hand, "I get why we're doing this. What, against all odds, made Janet and then Dawn special enough to clock out of this place. But do we really think it's going to be written on paper?"

"Or microfilm." Wally inserted, peeking out from behind the machine.

"I think Charley's onto something, actually." You said as you scanned another transcript from 1960: Maria Volkov. "Maybe there was something special about their pasts that allowed them to move on easier." You glanced up, eyes finding Wally's, "I mean, you've all looked back before, right?"

"More or less," Ajay said, flipping through another yearbook. "Yet, here we still are."

Wally corrected, "We've thought about our deaths, bro, we haven't looked back the way Dawn did at the séance."

Ajay seesawed his head and made a noise of acceptance, but didn't add anything.

"Really?" You glanced at Wally. "You think it's the lobotomy thing?"

Wally nodded, chewed his lip in thought before disappearing behind the microfilm reader again.

A few minutes later, "What year are you on?" Charley asked Wally as he carded through the accordion folder containing Dawn's student files.

Wally responded, "1959. I'm trying to move backwards, but I am not seeing Janet's name anywhere." He glanced between you and Charley. "She died in 1960, right?"

"Yeah," Charley confirmed though he was distracted.

"That's what we have in our files, too." You added and then sat up straight to stretch out the kinks that had settled between your vertebrae. "Apparently she fell down the stairs and broke her neck?"

Wally cringed, "Sounds shitty." He looked at Charley again, "Did you know that? Because I didn't know that."

"As we've established, we've been discouraged from asking each other personal questions," Ajay muttered so only you could hear.

"Especially related to your deaths..." You murmured, a frown on your face. "Huh."

From his perch on the picture files cabinet, Charley rummaged through more of Dawn's files, engrossed though managing to reply to Wally, "And things just get creepier..." He exhaled sharply through his nose and finally looked up, "Nothing of much interest in Dawn's student file, either..." Awkwardly, tinged with a thread of guilt, he admitted, "I know we weren't super close, but I feel kinda awful that we didn't get to say goodbye to her."

You listened as Wally answered, heart twinging, "I don't want it to happen that way for me." He caught your eye, let his gaze hold yours softly, "I didn't get a goodbye last time..." You stood, shuffled around Ajay, and went to Wally, settling in his lap when he shifted to accommodate you. "I do not wanna just disappear..."

You nestled into his body, kissed his temple before pressing your brow against it.

"Me either." Charley said quietly.

Though it was obvious he felt the same, Ajay didn't say anything. Simply allowed Wally and Charley's grief to be heard and sat with it.

Wally turned his head, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand squeezing your hip before he tucked his face into your shoulder for a minute.

You felt him breathe in and out deeply, absorbing your presence, your scent a balm for his soul, and then he returned to the slide he'd just inserted under the lens of the microfilm machine. Beneath you, he tensed.

"Whoa. Whoa, wait. This is weird." You peeked up at the screen, adjusted as Wally leaned in to read the small print. At Charley's prompting, Wally read, "Split River High School has been chosen for a national pilot program to protect students and teachers from the threat of a nuclear strike."

Oh. Shit. Had you not told Wally about the fallout shelter below the school?

"A fallout shelter will be built below the east wing of the school," No. No you had not. You'd been too busy dry humping him and then throwing Xavier under the bus about the kiss he'd stolen from you. "The same location where a fire destroyed the former chemistry lab on January 14th, 1958." You were a terrible girlfr—wait.

"Wait...1958?" Charley voiced so you didn't have to. "That must be Mr. Martin's fire. Does it mention him?" Charley moved closer, half-sat on the side of the desk, and watched Wally scan the rest of the old article.

"I don't see..."

You pointed to the screen where you saw Mr. Martin's name, "There."

"Oh, yes," His hand snuck under your shirt, thumb stroked your skin in thanks as he began to read again, "Authorities determined the fire was accidental. Four people were killed in the fire that overtook the lab during a routine chemistry lesson. Beloved Chemistry teacher Mr. Everett Martin was one of the deceased—"

"Wait." Charley interrupted, confused, "Four people? He said he was the only casualty."

Ajay was on his feet now, positioned himself behind Wally, a hand on Wally's shoulder as he curved forward and reread what Wally had already dictated. "Four people..."

Wally's attention returned to the screen to pick up where he left off, "Uh, two other staff, secretary Melinda Fontaine and school nurse Karla-Anne Mayfair, who had tried to help contain the fire while students evacuated were killed in the blaze as well as one student, sophomore..." He stopped, causing you, Ajay, and Charley to squint at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?" Charley asked.

Wally picked his gaze from the screen and skirted it to Charley, "Janet Hamilton." A moment of tense silence, and then Wally, pinning you closer to his body to quell his anger, wanted to know, "Why did they both lie to us?"

You stared at the name Wally had pointed to. It didn't make sense. Even in your family's files, Janet was cited as dying in 1960... Only... She hadn't had a death date until Ginny had remembered something and had Nanna write it down. You slipped out of Wally's lap and went to the stack of yearbooks Ajay had been scouring through to find the right one. Bingo. 1958.

You opened it, flipped through the pages until, "My great-aunt was in that class." That was the fire that'd weakened her. You'd assumed it'd been the same fire that had killed your great-grandparents, but no. There was Ginny's young face, smiling shyly from the page between your neighbor, Darcy Behr, and Mr. Anderson's father, Douglas.

"What does that have to do with Janet and Mr. Martin?" Ajay wondered as he, Wally, and Charley crowded around you.

You scrutinized every other student's face for clues, because stealing bodies was the work of expert connectedness. And though they became new people in new bodies, their connectedness had always and would always remain. If you were right...

"There were only two ghosts." You uttered, and you felt Wally's hand on your hip, a steadying force, as he pressed himself against your back. "If the symbols were already around the school to trap Mr. Martin and Janet—"

Somber, Wally asked the question on everyone's mind, "Then where did the other two go?"

💀___________________________

PART TEN - PART TWELVE

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